Maxwell's Demon Ch. 15-21

The tall alien flipped hair away from her large red eyes. "Or, you're from that star that fell from the sky. It's not the first time stars have fallen, but it hasn't happened in generations."

"What do you think, Ralia, where am I from?"

"Growl-hmm", Ralia said, walking around John, making him nervous.

There was something alluring about Ralia, like looking at deviant fetish art from the datanet. The red tint of her eyes reminded him of a demon. She stalked around him with a light heel, a predator waiting to pounce. He swiveled his neck to catch her coming around his side, having completed her loop around him. He saw it, that bit of animal that attacked him in the mountains, in her jaw and in her teeth. It was subtle, civilized but present. This sentient creature was an animal only recently evolved.

"Are we enjoying staring at each other?" Ralia said.

"I might be. Maybe you look as different to me, as I do to you."

"Oh? Tell me about the women on your continent, or wherever you are from."

"I asked you where you thought I was from first."

She arched her back, demonstrating impressive shapes, disturbingly human, in places John didn't expect.

"I haven't decided yet: a mythical boy from another continent, an attractive local, or a Lani from a fallen star. Answer my question and I will decide."

"They are smaller than you."

"Is that so. Why are you here?"

"I'm an explorer. Our ship was destroyed; I don't know when I'll go home."

"A great steam vessel? Our most powerful ships cannot traverse the uncrossed ocean. You are not from here, but I cannot believe in one fallen from the stars, unless you are a devil or an angel. I'm not one to believe in higher powers; most of us here aren't. You get kicked hard enough, you stop believing in heaven, and know there's only the hell we make. That brands you a devil then."

She stepped closer. John took a step back.

"Don't be frightened. I wouldn't waste time talking to you if I meant harm."

With a bent knee perched on the footpeg of her bike, she stared at him for twenty seconds. Her unblinking red eyes stirred childhood nightmares inside him, and he felt smaller with each passing second under her scrutiny. She was the one who looked like a devil, not him.

"Would you be surprised if I could tell you why you were here? Let me show you," she said, rising to full height, pivoting, grabbing a black satchel from the motorbike, and heading into a building John previously assumed was abandoned.

-*-

Ralia walked down a hallway filled with doors on the left and right -- more than could be reasonably counted. They went through one of them. It branched to another hallway. Midway through was an arched opening to the right. Broad stairs led down one and a half stories to a rectangular area. He faced a sturdy door affixed with three levers, a Telluki female standing next to an alcove with a desk, and another seated in a stool adjacent to the desk. They wore vests with medieval chainmail. A dark yellow sash ran diagonally from their waist to their right shoulder.

There was a crossbow in the corner next to the standing female. A scabbard and its holster was sewn into the thigh of her pants. She stared expressionlessly, focused on him from the moment he stepped off the stairs.

"They are blue... how?" the Guard said.

"Mind your duties," Ralia growled, bending over to mark in a book. The seated female waved her fingers to the guard, who turned and manipulated the three levers on the door. John heard the sound of a mechanical relay reverberating from the other side.

"Leave the door open," Ralia said to the seated female. "Admit no one else."

"As you wish," she replied.

Ralia walked the hallway to an unremarkable door on the left and entered. The room included the full length of hallway just traversed, and extended an equal amount in all directions with large vertically rolled doors on the far end, designed to allow shipping cargo in and out. John's jaw slacked upon sight of the object centered in the room.

Metal-vapor lights were strung overhead; it was stiflingly hot. In front of him was an object once white, but long ago faded from its creator's loving intentions. Three steel pads and struts supported a tubed metal frame two meters from the floor. A squat, hexagonal structure was suspended in the center, three quarter meter in diameter and ringed with rectangular boxes of various sizes. A spherical chamber attached at one edge of the hexagon, neatly recessed between two of the steel struts. On top was an aerodynamic cover, blistered with marks from localized heating.

Ralia stood still while John was drawn closer to the object.

Above the steel pads and their shiny struts were cylindrical chambers designed to allow the tubes recess upward into them. There were booms and arms mounted on the top of the central hexagon, the highest of which held a parabolic dish. On the back side of the hexagon were silver machined thruster bells, defiantly resisting the abuse and decay visited upon the other components. They shined brightly, calling proudly for one more use.

Reaction control thrusters, a communications dish, and shock absorbing landing gear -- what sat in the center of the room was designed to land unmanned on a planetary surface.

John heard Ralia's jacket drop to the floor. He turned around to see plantigrade feet with four toes walking toward him. Brown fur mottled with black markings rose from her angles to dark green shorts stretched around well-muscled thighs. A wide set of hips rested atop, tapering to a sleeveless yellow shirt, tight around her abdomen, with three smooth columns of vertical muscle visible through the fabric, shadowed by volleyball-sized breasts, all too human in appearance. The front of her chest was solid light brown, as were the palms of her hands and feet. Jet-black hair sat full on her head. Styled and draped around her face; it flowed to a mane that ran three-quarters of her back. She had a jagged black border surrounding the muzzle of her jaw, with fine fur indistinguishable from skin. Sharp white incisors twinkled in the artificial light with fresh saliva coating them.

She growled. He reached for his sidearm, but it was a timid and incomplete thought. It was so hot; he wasn't feeling well. Ralia batted his arm away from the weapon's holster and grabbed his face with her hand, covering his entire jawbone and squeezing until his mouth opened from the pressure. It probably hurt, but he couldn't tell; his neurons were misfiring due to the flailing software of his damaged neural link.

"Do you recognize this machine?" she said with a metallic and minty smelling breath.

John did recognize the machine. It was constructed by the Chinese Expace corporation -- and its presence on Proxima b meant only one thing: The Fuzanglong myth was real, and he suspected Jennifer knew this too, before they'd ever left Earth.

"John," she said, mastering his name on her second try. "Tell me what you are looking at or I will kill you." She relaxed her grip when he tried to speak, leaving the pressure of her claws against his cheeks.

"I know what this is," he said.

"I suspected." She released him -- as casually as if they'd simply shook hands. "You could build it, couldn't you?"

"Not by myself, not here, but my people did. They sent this here to learn about you; they were curious. Like Northlights and Mainlights, we have many towns on my world. I did not know we had the ability to send this to you. We are very far away from you."

"Then how did you get here?"

"We discovered a way to travel great distances. We didn't intend to visit face to face, we do not possess the capability to come and go in that way. We were supposed to watch and learn from the sky, from above you, but something went wrong."

"You were the short lived star we saw. A part of you fell to the ground?"

"Yes. Ralia, how did you get this machine?"

"It was stolen by us, from a ship at sea that intended to return it to Mainlights. It was said to have come from the sky on a column of fire in the North. Your people have caused a great deal of trouble for me, and I may yet take payment that suits me personally from your hide in reparation, but not this exact moment, though I'm greatly tempted to do so."

She led him from the room.

"About two and one-half wanders ago, travelers like you visited us."

"The Lani, the characters on playing cards I saw in the mining settlement?"

"Yes, those cards were inspired by them, though the common people are often not sure if they were real or not. Beyond writings and a few artifacts which are kept well hidden, there is little evidence of their visit for the commons to see. That machine you see is mostly forgotten. Many of your kind died of illness and violence, though not all. We were not ready for the advances they brought: the lights that power our big cities, engines that run on metal ore. The Lani jumped us to those things, but they are also the cause of fighting and unrest."

"Mayana told us of the conflicts over the evaporation pools."

"Then you know Adir unfairly taxes Northlights ships, restricts our access to the cloud free zone, and works on building a new railroad from the mining settlements to further increase the disparity. She enslaves the Teolid slums of Mainlights to work in the mines, and seize riches for herself. Our people starve while hers enjoy excess." She stopped and looked John in the eyes. "She'll kill you as soon as she confirms your presence here. I believe she is one of your kind, or a corrupt Centauran, sculpted and manipulated by yours all the same."

John stumbled; the heat from the lamps was making his fever worse.

"You are ill like those that came before you. I can see your heat," Ralia said.

"I just need some rest. Maybe we could go somewhere... cooler?" John said.

"Follow me," she said, walking to the far end of the hangar and into an adjoining room. It was filled with strange things, alien tools John guessed, except for two oddities: a box with HouYin-9/10 shells, a Chinese military weapon, and a torn piece of polycyanolucent paper. He picked the paper up. It was a photograph, rare to see, even on Earth. Datapads could carry unlimited amounts of pictures. Photographs such as these were something the first deep space travelers carried, pictures of their family on the most primitive media possible. It was a way to say their final goodbye to a loved one should they find themselves drifting in space amid a complete systems failure, without even enough electronics to look at a digital picture. Polycyanolucent paper was rumored to be indestructible; stories of it surviving doomed spacecraft reentry existed. Chemists were aware of its limitations, but to the average person it was invulnerable.

On the front was a woman. Her gymnast-like shoulders were unmistakable, as was the curve of her face, and unique but rarely seen smile. The young woman had shiny black hair, not the platinum blond last seen on Jennifer, but there was no doubt this was a picture of her, taken twenty plus years ago. He flipped the sheet over. On the back was writing in Hanzi glyphs, which he could read with his implant. It said, 'I love you, Father', and was signed with the Chinese name: Xiaoli.

"Ralia, where did this picture sheet come from?"

I will not answer any more questions. Convince your people to come to me and see what I am fighting for. The next time I make port in Newtown, it will be with ships of war -- and you will wish you were in Northlights on that day.

Ralia walked out in the hangar, retrieved her jacket, compressed her buxom upper body back into it, adjusted something in her pants, preened her hair, and called one of the female guards to her.

"Take him back to the port. Give him two passage cards and see that the watch is aware of his possible return."

-*-

Mayana had located work for Sarah and Jennifer in the clinic at Newtown, and she would have employment for William and Greg in several days. No one had seen John since he left, and there'd been no trace of him on the ad-hoc network. Jennifer was scrubbing up after stitching a wound on an injured Telluki worker when there was a pounding on the steel door. Damnit, I'm hungry and just want a break, she thought. Sarah opened the door. A rough looking Telluki worker came in with their arm in a sling, carrying a brown jar with hand painted decorations on it.

"Hello," Sarah said.

The worker replied with a formal greeting, holding the vase like a human might hold a child in its arms.

"I came to bring my heartfelt thanks. I was certain to have taken my death, to be lifted away to Mother's eyes, but I am able to continue, thanks to you. It is truly amazing," the worker said, removing her arm from the sling and rotating it around.

There was a gruesome incision on the back of her arm, deep into the muscle. The fur that normally ran along the outside had been shaved or burned away. There was scarring from her elbow to her shoulder, but no sign of infection. The wounds were no longer swelling, and the Centauran happily pressed on the injured area, proud to show that such action gave no pain.

"You were the one from the track car derailment two days ago. That was quite a blow you received. The healing seems to be going well," Jennifer said.

"Please take this clan jar as a gift of my thanks. I have filled it with the finest cuts of meat from our stores. It is the least I can do," she said, formally bowing one last time before turning to leave.

"That was the most remarkable wound recovery I've seen since I've been here. I thought for sure that arm would be lost the day of the injury. How'd you do it?" Jennifer said.

"I used some of our antibiotic foam. They were about to lose the arm to infection. I ran the scanner; I couldn't see any reason to believe it would harm them, and there was little else to try. I know we don't have much, but I figured good karma might not hurt on this world. It's easy to mix up from components the Centaurans have, it's just too expensive for us."

"Sarah, you might be a genius. I'm going to get changed. Meet me by the stone pool," Jennifer said, pulling one of the dried meat cuts from the jar. "Oh my. These are quite delicious."

Jennifer changed into a set of native clothes. The tailor had been uncertain what to make for her. Some considered her and Sarah as having a medical condition, that they were midget females, and regarded them with fascination, or pity. A few thought they were oddly developed males, with the peculiarity of having breasts, which the Centauran females did have -- though this fact was difficult to discover on casual inspection given how most dressed. Breasts were not secondary sexual characteristics for Centaurans, so no one cared about them one way or another. It was a shame, Sarah quipped in the clinic after being shocked by the alien's unadvertised and buxom figure. She said Earth boys would drool, though none of the Centaurans had any idea what she was talking about.

Jennifer grabbed drinks from one of the street vendors near the clinic, an affable, talkative male. She pulled Sarah down the alley to a small alcove and tore into another one of the dried meat strips, handing Sarah her drink. "How do you like the clothes the tailor made for us?"

"They're not bad. It's nice to have the option of wearing something else. We can finally wash our original clothes, though I don't care for the feel of these alien thread materials on my boobs." She smiled, as if someone had whispered a joke to her. "Do you think the boys have figured out the females have breasts?" Sarah asked.

"I dunno. It might be best if they don't get too curious. The alien's odd anatomy aside, having one of those brute's of a girl pound your pelvis into the ground is gonna leave a mark, I'd imagine."

"That's crude, but the imagery is hilarious. You know, I'm not sure if I've thanked you for the opportunity to work at CoreX. I never expected I'd end up shipwrecked on Proxima b, but what a way to go. I wouldn't have had the chance if it wasn't for you," Sarah said.

"Don't thank me. You deserved the job. I'm not sure I've done anything but prolong our deaths by bringing us down here." Jennifer sat on the edge of the pool and twisted to face Sarah. "Have you seen John? I'm not sure where he went, and he didn't say anything to Greg. I can't ping him on the localnet. He's either out of range, or not wearing his neckband."

"No. He didn't say anything to me."

"Sarah, I want you to make another batch of that antibiotics gel. I have an idea."

"That will take all the money we've both earned for the entire week," Sarah said with an admonishing tone.

"I can fix that. We're going into pharmaceuticals," Jennifer said.

-*-

Jennifer stood with her hands on a stone fence near Mayana's courtyard, waiting for a meeting she'd requested. She recognized the chattering of Mion and Benue before turning to see Mayana. Her personal guards were posted, as always, at the back of the room in silent watch.

"I'm told you act as a leader for your group, in the same capacity as I lead Newtown."

"That is true enough," Jennifer said.

Mayana circled Jennifer grandly, spiraling into conversational range.

"I'm sure you're aware that your presence here consumes many resources, which I've generously provided," Mayana said.

"We are grateful, and happy to work in the clinic. Greg and William hope to contribute many innovations working with your telegraph line crews."

"No doubt, but I am interested in this healing ointment you have created. This neckband you wear, it is fascinating; may I touch it?"

"If you wish."

Mayana ran a clawed hand along the back side of the neckband, and Jennifer suppressed a wince from the sharp animal-like digits being so close to her neck.

"I should tell you something about Adir, if she comes for you, and I believe she will. I don't think anyone has seen her in the last few wanders. She dispatches faces of herself, but they aren't the real Adir. I saw one of her faces once, when I was very young. She was exactly like you."

So much was lost in translation, the words, the inflection, the facial expressions, but as Jennifer looked into Mayana's solid orange eyes, she understood. Mayana meant human when she said: exactly.

"Why are Centaurans so accepting of people who look different, like me?" Jennifer said.

Mayana laughed. "It is because your arrival coincides with the first great seafaring vessels and airships. It is fashionable to believe that the world is filled with all shapes and colors of us, waiting to be discovered from a ship of the air or sea, arriving from a far off land. This proclivity finds its roots in the past.

Two, maybe three wander periods ago, there were foreigners like you, strangers who claimed to be from a wrecked airship swallowed by the ocean. They were oddly colored, spoke a strange tongue, and carried machines of metal with fine finishes that baffled our artisans -- like your neckband. All we knew for certain was they arrived on the western shore of the uncrossable ocean.

"Yes... the uncrossable ocean," Benue said.

"Quiet, Benue!" Mayana said.

"Most would think this nonsense. They lived a short period of their lives among us creating inventions: an image taking machine, the electricity which lights the streets, engines that move but do not operate on steam; however, there was one machine which all of them wished to find, not build. It was no bigger than four Centaurans. It preceded their appearance, falling from a height in the sky so great none could imagine -- higher than any airship has ever floated. It landed with a flame as in an iron forge, directed toward the ground. It was said to have three shiny legs, and set itself down gently as a leaf on a windy day.