Regan's Reach (6 page)

Then, as if to make a liar of her a blue
shimmer filled the right side of the cabin. Reaching out she found her hand
could pass through it, with a sensation like passing through thick goo, a gel
without wetness. She pulled the hand back with a shudder. He still seemed to be
breathing freely.

Moving back out on to the hillside events
caught up with her and she suddenly dropped to her knees gasping for giant
breaths. Gathering her composure Regan picked up the SatPhone from the ground.

"Ms Stein, you can take the seat on
the left."

"Whoa!" She protested "Let's
get some things straight. I don't know you, either of you, and I don't know
what's going on. I've done what I could for Marin. You were right, he needed
help, badly. But I'm not a doctor and I don't take rides from just anybody, particularly
when they clearly don't want to contact the right authorities."

"Please Ms Stein, you're an
intelligent woman. You already suspect why contact wouldn't be wise and your
suspicions are correct. This is asking a lot of you, but Marin still needs your
help."

She felt sick. Things were coming to a
head. "I understand your concern for him, but I'm nothing to you, perhaps
even a threat. How do I know . . .?"

"You are not a threat and you won't be
harmed. True, it would have been desirable to avoid this but it has happened,
and you've helped. This may change everything. Please, Marin is unconscious, he
still needs someone and there is no one else."

"What about you?" she protested.

There was a long pause. . . . . . . "This
ship doesn't have arms Regan."

She remained rooted to her knees, hardly
feeling the pain from the cracked rock beneath her, implications of the reply swirling
through her mind. A sinking feeling came over her. This was a situation of her
making. From the moment of first rolling the man over she'd known. While his
features were familiar enough, they were also immediately, obviously, clearly,
different. Otherworldly! It was seriously weird.

She wasn't stupid, empty headed or
gullible. The only conclusion she could come to at that point was too shocking,
numbing, and unthinkable. The only certain thing was that the need of this
person was undeniable. The decision she made on top of the mountain was to help
in any way she could . . . nothing had changed.

Inclined to go with her gut in most situations,
Regan always acted with instinct. It had served her well in the past and the STEIN
success was evidence of those qualities. Now, intuitively she knew this was a
defining moment. It could prove to be the most terrifying and exciting moment.

Where is this going to lead?
You simply can't miss this, you can't! Just roll with it.
Before
even thinking the question she knew what she would do and her hesitation was
brief. Without another word Regan entered the Pod and took the seat. It didn't
surprise her that immediately she could feel it shape and mould to what felt
like a perfect fit.

She took a big breath, "What now?"
She asked.

"Nightfall is still seven hours away
and the Pod won't lift until then. For now try to sleep, you need rest. Marin's
vital signs are stable and there is nothing else you can do for the moment."

The craft was already drifting downward to
settle in its earlier position, the movement imperceptible to her. Drained,
mentally and physically, she felt comfortable and warm for the first time in
almost two days.
Dear God,
she thought,
what am I doing?
Exhaustion
finally overcame her and she slept.

Eyes still closed; a dream lost in an
instant. Regan felt herself spark to life as she woke and listened. She could
hear nothing, only silence.

For a moment she rested perfectly still, savoring
that floating sensation as if detached from her body. She opened her eyes and
examined the surroundings, goose bumps breaking out on her arms as she did so
and a shiver passing down the small of her back.
I'm still in the Pod.

She took in more detail, noticing the
ceramic look of the walls, the comfort of her seat, the absence of any
spaceship type paraphernalia . . .
Oh shit, shit, shit, shit!
The walls
seemed hard and smooth although not plastic or metal. It looked and felt like
some kind of composite, even the front.

"
Does
this thing have a screen?" She spoke.

"Of course," The Irishman replied
immediately.

The forward wall suddenly resolved into a
view so clear it took her breath away.
How did that happen? It just looked
like wall a moment ago.
The detail was almost too much, the content rich.
Looking out she could see they were still on the ground and although still
light, darkness wasn't far away. Regan checked her watch, six seventeen p.m.

Do or die!
She thought. . .

"I have questions."

"Fire away."

She paused at the reply . . . "Your
language is distinctly . . . colloquial."

"Is that a problem?"

"No . . . just . . . not what I would
have expected."

"How so?"

Regan smiled wryly at the response and
chose to ignore it. "Why the German?"

"German?" The voice replied.

"You know, when you first called, you
spoke in German and something else."

"Ahh . . . Your name, Stein; it has
German and Norwegian roots."

"Hmm, how did you know my name?"

"The SatPhone registration."

"That was quick work." Regan sped
through the process steps; scanning, picking up the signal, checking the
number, then registration, identification, deciding on the approach, composing
the words, making the call to her, all before she herself had time to dial. It
was more than impressive, it was impossible!
They are NOT from anywhere
around here!

She drew in a big breath. "Where are
you from?"

"Regan, you're going to think you're
being suckered here, but you're not. These are important questions and there
will be time to answer them later. But the Pod will need to move soon and Marin
needs hydration. Look up, there's water behind the panel you can see there. The
tube will extend to him. Please attend to his needs then retake your seat, and
Regan . . . thank you."

The small courtesy took her by surprise and
for a moment she considered something to say. She decided no, it could wait and
reached instead for the panel above. It ratcheted down like a shelf and she
could see packets, sealed tubes like toothpaste and yes, a long thin tube with
a tap end similar to that on her Camelbak. Turning to Marin she saw the blue
goo had disappeared. Stretching the tube to his lips she released the tap and
trickled liquid to his mouth. To her surprise his lips closed on the end and he
began to suck and his eyes opened. He froze, and then made some unintelligible
sounds.
Were they words?
His eyes were wide, startled, and then they
glazed over as he lapsed back into unconsciousness. Disturbed she took a moment
to calm herself then tentatively reached out and stroked his forehead, using a
sleeve to wipe his chin. She then rearranged his jacket pillow and stood.

"For a moment there he came around, it
was a bit of a shock for him to see me I think."

"You're not that hard to look at."

She laughed spontaneously, a surprise even
to her. "You're way too quick. I'm talking to a computer aren't I?"

"Hmmm, beautiful and quick, you're
living up to your reputation."

A thrill passed through her so quickly it
made her shudder. She hugged herself in delighted shock. This was a dream,
something that had proved so elusive. Oh sure, she could use voice commands . .
. even have basic conversations with her own system, but nothing like this.
True
artificial intelligence . . .? Steph, Kutch, they won't believe it!

"How do you know about me?" and suddenly
this felt like a game, a computer game, it was comfortable ground.

"Three days, plenty of time to access
information from your web. Data update is why we come here. Unfortunately . . .
Marin tends to depart from strict mission protocols."

"Uh . . . huh, so where are you now?"

"Here, there, the ship, in orbit."

"But can't you be seen?"

"Normally the ship comes and goes
quickly, but Marin . . . ."

"Say no more," she interrupted, "Men
and children." She continued, "So, have you been detected yet?"

"Certainly, but what can they do?
Those who know we're here hold off reporting and the ship transmits signals
that mimic Earth's encrypted communications. It gives them pause to think. They're
all convinced they might be looking at a satellite or some vessel of a
competitor, or another nation. Of course the ship is way bigger than a
satellite and looks nothing like any shuttle from earth so it's stupid really.
So far there's been a lot of related traffic in messages but not much insight."

"Good thinking on the encryption
thing. I like it. Have you been here before?"

"Naturally, researchers have been here
many times. We're here to update our data. The ship trawls for all information
possible which is studied by Marin and his colleagues, and compared with past
records. Only . . . Marin can't resist feeling soil under his feet. And because
its 'verboten', he comes on his own to do it. This trip may turn out, to put it
in your wonderful colloquial style, a complete fuck up."

She smiled. "Why New Zealand, why come
to this place?"

"Why indeed? What is that famous
quote? Mine is not to reason why, mine is but . . . . well, you know the rest.
Why this place? There is low possibility of observation, very low aircraft
traffic, easy to deceive with false aircraft signals etcetera, etcetera."

"You're quite a joker aren't you?"

"A joker?"

"Yeah, you're quite a joker, a ham."

"Ms Stein . . . really . . . a
machine, remember?"

She snorted embarrassingly, "I've
never met a machine with a sense of humor."

"You haven't met Marin's mother then."

Regan couldn't hold back a laugh and it
felt good to relax, part euphoric geek, part stunned observer.

"Enough of this Regan, it's time to
move. Better take your seat; you won't feel anything but this may be a bit
disorienting."

She looked back to Marin. "Do you
think he'll be ok?"

"Thanks to you he's alive, nothing is
more important. When he's back on the ship all will be well." The blue
again shimmered around him. Regan let her gaze linger, unable to shake the
impression he was in a tank. As she turned back to her seat she saw darkness
had settled.

The view presented by the full wall high
definition screen was too much and combined with dim light she felt incredibly
vulnerable. It already felt unsettling sitting stationary only a meter or so
from what appeared to be clear window, so she felt certain it would be
terrifying once they really started to move, like falling forward.

"Could you reduce the view on the
screen, just the top half maybe?"

Instantly the outlook changed to the more
familiar windscreen view. She looked first at the composite wall underneath
then drew her eyes upward to the screen. The transition was seamless with no
difference in the surface. At the same moment the Pod lifted, accelerating
alarmingly down the valley before banking upward and streaking toward the
clouds. Regan found herself holding her breath. It was like watching a
rollercoaster ride on Imax as she had as a child. The visual movement was fast
and smooth but she could hear and feel nothing. In only a few minutes she could
feel the muscles in her cheeks aching and realized her teeth were grinding
tight.

What the fuck is this?
It hovers, climbs, maneuvers, accelerates, all without sound or
any G force.
She could feel her heart pounding. From somewhere in her
unconscious words popped into her head,
'There is no real difference between
fear and excitement.'
Well
,
I'm damn excited now!
It was
draining.
Questions, God, so many questions!
She gripped the sides of
the seat for dear life and forced herself to keep her eyes open.

The view via the forward screen proved
bewildering. They were travelling so fast that clouds, if that was what she
could see, appeared only as a fuzzy blur. It wasn't possible to focus on
anything specific as they shot into the sky and she considered how this would
look from the ground.

"Can you tell me our altitude?"
She asked.

"Five thousand meters . . . . . . . .
. . seven . . . . . . . . . . ten thousand . . . . . . . fifteen."

"Unreal! Are we being tracked by
anyone?"

"We had company, very briefly, United
States F Twenties. They have a carrier off Australia but we passed through
their air space too quickly for response. That's now twenty five thousand
meters and reducing climb rate . . . and twenty six thousand."