Star Search

by Colin Kapp

Genres: Science Fiction; Sci-fi Action & Adventure; Hard Science Fiction

Synopsis

Book by Kapp, Colin

Release date: July 3, 1984

Publisher: DAW

Print pages: 200

Sample

CIRCUS-MARSHAL Chi Nailer was having a tough time. To his normal chore of controlling the two hundred square miles of the bustling Solarian Circus had been added three new factors: firstly he had to relocate the attractions in the prime centre site to accommodate the vast hall which was being built for the celebration by the Centre for Solarian Studies; secondly, Madam Leez Layor, president of the Mars Shell Federation, had notified him that she intended to attend the celebration and preside over some of the functions; and thirdly, both the foregoing items threatened to increase the attendance at the circus to something like five times its average. For the circus, the Solarian Celebrations were good business: for Chi Nailer, they were a foretaste of Hell.

Even so, at the back of his crowded mind as he harried the power engineers to lay more lines at impossibly short notice and harangued the caterers who appeared to have developed a mental block about the magnitude of the coming demand, Chi’s mind was occupied with fears other than the threat of a serious breakdown in the mammoth circus organisation. The reason for the celebration, which he had volunteered to host, was to fete the little exploration team which had bravely penetrated the concentric shells of the Solarian universe to reach the star in its centre, and then gone out again to visit many of the greater shells outside the shell of Mars. Now this team was planning the greatest voyage of all – right out to the limits of Solaria to learn what lay beyond. And one of this team was Cherry, the scrawny little holo-illusionist who had once held a pitch in the circus itself. It was Chi’s experience that where Cherry went, trouble was sure to follow.

Dusk was approaching, and the myriad lights of the mammoth circus were beginning to appear, before Chi was finally able to disengage himself from the hectic routine of the day. He left his rooftop office which looked clear over the vast concourse, and took his vehicle fast through the private service lanes with which the circus was criss-crossed, to the point where the new dome of the hall for the Centre for Solarian Studies dwarfed the gaudy huddle of the surrounding exhibition stands and side-shows. Here two of his security team had been charged with a special responsibility.

‘Any sign of the Shellback yet, Swaf?’

‘Not yet, Chi. But air-control says it’s in our sector. And everything’s ready here.’

Chi glanced approvingly at the broad concrete dais which had been prepared to receive and display the fantastic little ship which was currently the only vessel in existence with the capability of exploring the other shells and the far reaches of the universe. The brilliant lights which would be needed to flood the exhibit at night had all been fitted, although the cables still ran untidily beside the new-dug trenches, and the wide circle of strong mesh security barriers was in place. By all accounts the Shellback was nothing spectacular to look at, and was hardly likely to be damaged by the inquisitive attentions of idle sightseers, but the circus-marshal was never a man to take chances.

‘Right, Swaf! But when the Shellback has landed, you two have another job to do. You remember Cherry used to have a pitch here. Well, he and that other twisted holo-illusionist Harry Castor had a feud going, which caused the circus more trouble than enough. I know Cherry is a celebrity now, but I wouldn’t put it past either of them to have another go at each other. If a rumpus is allowed to develop, you two are in real trouble. When that scrawny old scarecrow gets out of the Shellback you plant yourselves one on either side and stay with him until he’s off circus territory. Is that quite clear?’

‘Understood, Chi.’ Swaf’s eyes were searching the sky in the direction from which he expected the little ship to appear. ‘There’s no way he’s going to get past us.’

‘Just ensure that.’ Nailer was already checking with circus air-control over his belt radio. ‘Estimated touchdown time fifteen minutes. I’d better get the reception committee into line.’

In point of fact it was only five minutes later that the unusually heavy drone of the little ship’s engines was heard, and all the circus, operators as well as patrons, stopped what they were doing and came out into the open to catch a first glimpse of the most famous craft on Mars shell. Soon a small black dot could be discerned high in the wan evening sky, coming in on a smoothly controlled descent towards the touchdown area which had been prepared for it.

Swaf pulled his lip nervously and turned to his companion. ‘It’s running way in front of schedule. Better call Chi and have him hurry that reception committee, also he’s going to miss the grand opening.’

‘Check!’

With its engines producing a continuous pattern of thunder, the ugly, boxlike little ship now found its position directly overhead, hovered deliberately as if aware of the necessity to delay its arrival for a few moments, then dropped precisely towards the waiting concrete bed. The need for the strong mesh security barrier was immediately apparent, because the press of the assembled crowd was such that had it not been for this precaution those nearest to the point of the little ship’s descent would have been thrust uncomfortably close to the flux of its powerful jets.

Swaf and his companion were actually inside the security area, standing hard against the mesh, marvelling at the great tongues of flame which curled outwards from the most powerful engines which had ever been put into a flying craft, and the roar of the great motors made conversation completely impossible. Swaf, intrigued by the squared, blocked ugliness of the little craft and the sense of sheer brute force which had been imparted to its design, had his attention suddenly diverted by his companion who was making signs that they should draw the communications pouches of their helmets over their ears and communicate by radio instead of direct speech.

‘We’ve got a problem, Swaf. Chi doesn’t believe the Shellback could have got here so soon. In fact he says that air-control have it on radar, still about seven minutes out.’

‘I guess that’s why they call them air-control. It’s all they have between the ears – hot air. Well, Chi can miss the show if he wants to, but the moment those engines cut we go out there and keep strict tabs on that nutty old scarecrow Cherry. The way Chi feels about him, anything less would lose us a couple of good jobs in the circus.’

Seated precisely on its concrete dais, the little ship finally wound its engines down to silence, and the same silence descended on the crowd, who waited breathlessly for the hatch to open. As it did so, they all pressed forward to see who would first emerge. First through the aperture came the tall, spare, leader of the expeditionary team, ex-assassin and now a director of the Centre for Solarian Studies, Maq Ancor, whose legendary ugliness and mane of red hair which flared around his collar had earned him the nickname of the ‘Lion’. He was followed by the startlingly attractive green-skinned Engelian girl Sine Anura, who was reputed to have an electromuscular system which could kill a man, and who was said to be more at home in the water than she was on land.

Thirdly came Cherry, ex-circus holo-illusionist, a skinny scarecrow of a man with a hollow face and an impudent and wispy goatee beard, who was clad as ever in sandals and white toga. He was followed by Tez, his projectionist, and the trim and pert Carli, his former assistant. Through holopresentations and newscasts all of the exploratory team were well known, almost legendary figures, and the acclaim of the assembled crowd was a sound even greater than had been the noise of the Shellback’s engines.

Strangely, the five figures on the dais seemed unresponsive to the welcome and offered no acknowledgment. In fact Maq Ancor drew the green-skinned girl to his side and appeared to be interested in something on the far horizon. Cherry looked round apprehensively for a moment or two, then apparently decided to go exploring on his own.

‘Our cue, I think,’ said Swaf. ‘Let’s go and greet our old friend Cherry.’

The two circus deputies made their way towards the point where the white-clad figure stood. Cherry had produced a bottle from beneath the voluminous folds of his toga, and out of sight of Ancor he was taking a surreptitious drink.

‘Well, if it isn’t old Cherry!’ Swaf approached him from behind and made to give the illusionist a hearty pat on the back. To his complete amazement his hand contacted nothing but empty air, and realisation hit him almost with the force of a physical blow.

‘Christ, it’s a bloody terrain hologram! Who…?’

To confirm his fears he climbed the concrete dais, walked right through the image of the Shellback, and came out the other side. The crowd of watchers outside the barrier first became strangely quiet and then began to sound angry.

‘It’s a swindle! A con! A rotten holo-show! What a lousy circus!’

‘Harry Castor,’ said Swaf. ‘It has to be! It can’t be Cherry responsible because he hasn’t landed yet.’

‘He’s made a damn good job of the image, though,’ said his companion admiringly.

‘Bit of a standard holo-tape release from the Centre for Solarian Studies. I’ve seen it before. But if I know Castor, I doubt if he has resisted the urge to doctor it.’

The tape had been doctored. Before their startled eyes the image of the little ship began to melt and flow, whilst in its centre there rose a bright spray of crackling fire made entirely believable by meticulous synchronisation of the ambiphonic sound from concealed speakers. Higher and higher rose this display of simulated pyrotechnics until it dwarfed even the great hall of the Centre for Solarian Studies and drew a gasp of admiration from the crowd. Then, as it reached its zenith, it began to hurl great fire-balls, like miniature suns, high into the air, and finally the fire leaped suddenly to coalesce into man-height illuminated letters in the sky.

THE GREAT CASTOR – FOREMOST HOLO-MAGICIAN IN ALL SOLARIA

‘And not shy with it, either,’ said Swaf ruefully. ‘Let’s go grab Castor and get this damned thing turned off.’

His companion, however, grabbed his arm and pointed upwards. ‘Too late. The real Shellback is just coming in.’

‘Hell! Can you imagine what Chi will say if the Shellback sits on the dais surmounted by Castor’s crummy advertisement? He’ll have kittens. With the president and the reception committee and a direct video link to every newscast outlet on the shell… All standing under that…’ Words failed him for a moment. ‘Come, we daren’t let Castor get away with it.’

‘But Chi said specifically for us to stay for Cherry.’

‘We’ll have to catch up with Cherry later. You contact the power manager and see if you can get Castor’s power-lines disconnected. And you’d better let Chi know what’s happening. I’ll hunt around and see if I can find where those damn holo-projectors are, and if I find them I’ll put a spanner through the optics and to hell with any laser damage.’

This time the arrival of the real Shellback was unmistakable. Although the image and the sound had been faithfully recreated in the holo-play, the hot breath of the jet flux from the little craft spread across the whole area like a cosy blanket, and dust-swirls were distributed high into the air. In the closing dusk the floodlights were switched on to illuminate the dais, and the space-stained and ugly little ship hunched itself in the full glare of the illumination, and looked remarkably like a blocked, mechanical spider warily watching out for prey. The hatch opened and Maq Ancor and Sine Anura came out together, highly pleased as they acknowledged the roar of the crowds. Then out came Tez and Carli, scarcely less popular figures, because these were the ones with whom the ordinary men and women on Mars shell could more readily identify themselves.

Finally out came Cherry, clad as ever in sandals and toga and altogether the showman as he bowed to the thunderous applause. Then, as the reception party approached, he chanced to look up, and there, writ large across the sky above his head, there still burned Harry Castor’s message. Although the presidential welcome occupied a great deal of newscast space, the image most oft and fondly repeated for the Mars shell’s thousand million million million inhabitants was the expression of incredulous rage which passed over Cherry’s face.

IN POINT of fact Harry Castor was wrong, and this was very much Cherry’s night. Before the presidential party and an invited audience in the great hall of the Centre for Solarian Studies, the wizened holo-illusionist conjured some of the finest holo-images ever produced, depicting unforgettable scenes from the voyages of the Shellback on its journeys through the concentric shells of the Solarian universe. Much of the material from the earlier trips had been seen before, and was available from the public archives, but a lot of it was from Cherry’s own private tapes, and the whole was blended and presented with such realism that none in the vast hall who witnessed it would ever forget the experience.

Such was the fidelity of the holo-scenes that the audience, seemingly encapsulated in a sphere of imperishable glass, were apparently transported high up above the great lands of the Mars shell, breathlessly to see their vast towns shrink to indistinguishable dots and the mighty oceans appear as little more than puddles. Then they were floating through the luminary belt, where orbited the sequence of artificial protostars which warmed and lit the surface of the shell. Soon a breathless descent again towards one of the immense ‘volcano-like’ structures, ten thousand miles across and with walls rising a thousand miles in height above the surface of the shell, which guarded the cavity which led right through the shell to the space region inside; and in which cavity sat, slowly spinning like a serene marble, one of the fabulous cageworlds around which the concentric shells of the universe had been constructed.

The fantastic journey had begun. Soon the sights and scenes flowed swiftly, as, telescoped by careful editing, they followed the path of the Shellback’s first journey inwards through the concentric shells of Earth, Venus and Mercury and finally had a view of that most unforgettable of sights, the natural sun which lives in the centre of Solaria. Then they returned via a different cageworld route, drinking in the sights of strange places and strange peoples, and having a look at the one cageworld which was itself completely and solidly occupied by Zeus, the mammoth computing complex which built, maintained and regulated the entire Solarian universe. They had a fascinating glimpse of the great spokeways, the hollow tubular Exis force-fields radiating like spokes from the shell of Mercury, which tied the whole universe together and through which Zeus regulated the affairs of the universe and redistributed its populations.

Thus back to the Mars shell, and then on outwards towards the greater shells of Solaria, each shell being increasingly massive as it enclosed the inner shells within itself. Asteroid, Jupiter, and the mysterious Boxa shell; then on out to the Saturn, Uranus and Neptune shells, the farthest point out from the central sun which the intrepid little Shellback had ever reached. Finally the cameras turned again outwards, looking at the far darkness where the fabled shell of Pluto, yet unreached, was supposed to be. And outside that, what… ? More shells reaching to infinity? Or an ending in some other sort of space which even the mighty universe-builder Zeus could not conquer?

Cherry’s dialogue dwelt upon the point. Now the whole of Solaria was becoming overcrowded, and much more space would be needed to house and support the human populations still growing exponentially. The future development of all mankind depended crucially on what lay beyond the Pluto shell, and whether it could be made hospitable to man. Was it possible that out there somewhere was yet another natural star, around which they could build a new universe? The great question remained unanswered, and on this note of cosmic speculation Cherry drew his amazing holo-presentation to a dramatic close.

For seconds the audience sat silently, then rose to give the loudest and most thunderous burst of applause which any performance in the Solarian Circus had ever known. Then the Speaker quietened the tumult and introduced none other than Madam Leez Layor, the popular president of the Mars-shell Federation, which co-ordinated the activities of over half of the great shell’s population. Some good-natured heckling began from the front row of the audience, but Madam Layor silenced it with her customary control, and smiled broadly.

‘No speeches from me tonight. Nor is there anything in these proceedings tonight which is likely to rouse contention. We are here to celebrate the founding of that remarkable institution, the Centre for Solarian Studies, to hear about the plans for an even greater exploit than those you have just seen so dramatically presented, and to meet in the flesh some of those whom most of you have until now known only through the video newscasts. Like the rest of you, I have come here to learn, to indulge my sense of wonder, and to enjoy myself. As proof of this I intend to introduce Prince Awa-Ce-Land-A of the Hammanite Principality, whose foresight and determination first made possible the exploration of the Solarian universe. Having done that I shall step gracefully from the limelight, having made the shortest appearance in my entire career.’

She made her exit to a great burst of laughter, which was swiftly quelled when Land-a made his appearance. His entry on silent wheels was dramatic. He was fully two-thirds life support machine, and only one-third man, everything below the centre of his chest being contained in a wheeled cyli. . .