The children of venus, p.8
The Children of Venus, page 8
They approached the entrance and pushed the door open.
Vertigo took over as Wilson felt like they stepped out of the city and into the swirling atmosphere. They floated amid the thick clouds of Venus, yet did not fall.
But they weren’t floating. They stood on a glass floor that overlooked the planet beneath. Wilson couldn’t help but feel that they were walking among the clouds.
He only heard rumor of this place: The Grand Courtyard, capital of the cloud cities. Its beauty was different than anything aboard a SIC vessel. Everything was effortless; nothing extravagant, artificial, or elaborate. The beauty came from the planet itself, the simplicity of seeing it for what it was and not from the kind of accents SIC always put on everything.
In the center of the courtyard hung a ceiling fountain, carved into an abstract shape and looked like it once flowed gracefully to the floor beneath it. Now it was a husk, the years of no use showing. All around them the walls opened to different entryways, various parts of the city that were meant for high volume traffic. Wilson wondered which ones led to the libraries and research labs, untouched since the abandonment.
Their feet echoed through the wide courtyard. They passed the fountain.
Wilson stopped.
He stepped over the raised ledge that surrounded the floor beneath the ceiling fountain. All dried up, it was roughly thirty feet in diameter. He approached the center.
He reached above and touched the tip of the ceiling fountain, dangling delicately. Even through his glove, he could tell it was fragile, that unused years had taken a toll on its fortitude.
“You think SIC will allow it to flow again?” Wilson heard Gomez’s voice through the intercom. She was standing across from him, on the other side of the fountain.
“Maybe, if they could get it to one of their planned surface colonies,” Wilson said. “But then again, it was built for something, everything that SIC stands against. Why should they preserve anything like that?”
“Right you are Dr. Wilson,” Bitiir’s voice boomed over theirs. “SIC’s already pulled the research they need and has superior plans beyond this dump. You’ll see, and you’ll be proud to know that you’re a part of it.”
“I said no detours!” Cocteau yelled. “Brainiacs, catch-up. Not supposed to leave anyone behind, but I will if you don’t keep up. Last thing I want is for you two to get into something you’re not supposed to and send the city crashing to the surface. Come on!”
They finished crossing the courtyard to an entrance larger than the others. Above it read ‘Passage to Central Command’.
“We’ve wasted enough time sight-seeing,” Cocteau said. “Up we go.”
Through the entrance they climbed stairs, up to a locked metal door.
“Allow me,” Bitiir said smoothly as he dialed into his EC. The door powered up and the sound of an electronic lock unhitched. He gently pushed against it and it swung open.
“What can I say?” Bitiir took a slight bow. “Have I proved my worth on this mission yet? Am I more than—what did you call me Cocteau? SIC’s babysitter?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Cocteau said taking the lead. Wilson knew it must’ve taken all she had not to shove Bitiir over as she walked past him.
They entered the control center. It was a small room, but laid-out as a living map of the city, packed full of panels to control every aspect of it.
“We’re looking for maintenance,” Cocteau said. “Maintenance has the access to anchor the city and to give power to the shafts we need.”
“Here,” Gomez said, pointing to a panel that hung off the wall. “This one looks to be it.”
“Bitiir, do your thing,” Cocteau said.
Bitiir approached, once again dialing into his EC.
“Won’t let me without your command code,” Bitiir said to Cocteau.
She dialed into her EC, and the maintenance panel came alive.
“Alright, let’s anchor her,” Cocteau said. “Bitiir, get on that. Gomez, help him. Wilson—come here!”
Wilson jumped. Had he done something wrong again? He felt rather useless at this point, not being as tech savvy as he always wanted to be. He observed at one of the layouts of the city, hoping to look too busy to face Cocteau.
“Wilson,” Cocteau barked. “That was an order!”
Wilson tore his attention from the layout and approached Cocteau.
“You know, I’m not one of your military cronies,” Wilson said. “You can’t order me about like one of them.”
“Cut the bullshit and give me your arm.”
Wilson raised his right arm.
“Other arm, smartass.” Cocteau sounded frustrated.
He raised his left arm. Cocteau grabbed it, pressing his EC against hers, dialing into it.
Bitiir looked over his shoulder at them. “Captain, what are you doing?”
Cocteau ignored him and continued to dial, Wilsons EC bringing up the syncing signal.
“Captain, I asked what you are doing? Bitiir stopped his work at the maintenance panel.
Gomez stepped aside. “Um, Captain, are you—”
“Shut-up,” Cocteau said, focusing on her task. “I don’t answer to any of you.”
“You certainly do,” Bitiir sounded offended. “Answer me—what are you doing?” He stepped toward her.
“Watch it Bitiir,” Cocteau pointed at him. “Down here, I’m leading the mission, and what I do and say is law. Unless you really want to challenge me on that. Lawyer like you should know.”
Bitiir stepped back.
Cocteau released Wilson’s arm.
Wilson looked down at his EC. It didn’t look any different.
“I’m not going to suddenly start breathing in sulfuric gas am I?” Wilson said.
“Not likely,” Cocteau said. “But now, if something happens to me, your EC will automatically take command of the mission and of the emergency power of the city.”
Bitiir’s mouth dropped. “Are you kidding me?”
“I know I have one hell of a sense of humor,” Cocteau smiled, “but I’m serious.”
“He doesn’t even know how to use that thing!” Bitiir yelled at them. “Even Gomez has more access codes that he does. He’s only here for the survey, nothing more.”
“Which is a lot more than what you’re here for,” Cocteau glared at Bitiir.
“This goes against protocol,” Bitiir said. “I should have those commands.”
“Liar,” Cocteau said. “You know the protocol and that you very well cannot hold command codes, plus all the access codes. It’s dangerous to put them all in one place. Gomez is already the backup for your access codes, so it only makes sense for Wilson to be the backup for my command codes.”
“Why sync my EC now?” Wilson said. “Why didn’t you establish this back on Venus station?”
“I had to finish downloading the commands for the city,” Cocteau said. “And I couldn’t do that until we were closer to central control. Bitiir and Gomez have the access codes, but none of it will work without the command codes. You’re my backup if anything happens to me. Don’t be a smartass about it.”
“Um, thanks?” Wilson gulped. He had no idea that Cocteau held him in such high regard.
“No thanks,” Cocteau said. “You were just the logical choice.”
“Sorry to break up this lovely confrontation,” Gomez said. “But the city is ready to anchor and the maintenance shafts are ready for us. We don’t want the city to drift too far from our mountain.”
“Good,” Cocteau said. “Finish the mission. Let’s go team.”
Gomez followed Cocteau. Wilson went to follow, but Bitiir grabbed his shoulder.
Wilson looked at his face. With the intercom on, there wasn’t much they could say without the others hearing, but Bitiir’s expression was enough. Just remember who’s in control.
Wilson shoved off Bitiir’s arm. “Come on, we have a mission to finish.”
Chapter 7: Doom
EARTH’S TWIN. THAT was nickname given to Venus, long before the age of space exploration.
Not just for its similar size, but as humankind evolved to understand creation, they began to understand the creations of both Earth and Venus. But even as twins are created in the same womb, they will still possess slight differences, even if only in personality.
The same was for Earth and Venus. Both were organized within the same creation cycle in the beginnings of the solar system. Formed from the same materials brought in from their mother Sun and father gravity.
In the end, they took different evolutionary paths just as human twins take different walks of life. Venus, being ever so slightly closer to the sun is naturally hotter and receives more solar radiation than that of the cooler Earth. A slower rotation allowed the heat from the sun to evaporate all the water on Venus, creating a greenhouse effect that trapped all the gasses from tectonic activity.
Overall, Earth’s distance from the sun and fast rotation gave it all the advantages it needed to evolve enough to support and sustain life.
Such things were on Wilson’s mind as he crouched in the dim, narrow maintenance passage. He was at least six inches too tall for the passage. His neck and shoulders ached as he helped Gomez pull a maintenance bin that barely cleared the ceiling; its wheels screeching and scraping against the dense metal floor.
Even slightly crouched, Bitiir walked nonchalantly in front of them. He followed close to Cocteau who held her EC arm in front of her, mapping and directing them. She led them through the myriad of confined passages, bringing them to the outgoing ones that connected to the city’s scaffolding.
Cocteau flashed a light in Wilson’s eyes.“We’re here.”
He heard a crack in his spine as he twisted to look ahead.
I’m going to feel that tomorrow, he thought.
The team stood in front of an enclosed threshold, a sealed doorway that stood as a barrier between them and the violent winds of upper Venus. In the center of it a small square window flickered dimly, swirling with the tumultuous weather that awaited them.
“Watch it,” Cocteau said, pressing her EC. The maintenance passageway shook. Like chalk scratching iron, a wall lowered from the ceiling behind them, cutting them off from the city.
Cocteau pointed to the threshold ahead. “Once I open this,” her eyes bore at them like high beams, “you’re going to feel a lot of turbulence. Feel that sway? That’s not from us walking down the passageway; that’s from outside. Winds reach 250 kilometers up here. Gear up and remember your training.”
Like mountaineers preparing for a steep climb, they took out an assortment of hooks and harnesses from the built-in packs of their suits, Using drill bits, Gomez secured the maintenance bin to the floor. She opened the wardrobe-like doors, presenting rolls of thick silver wire, SIC’s finest descent cables. They each attached a cable to the harnesses along their backs, as well as additional wind gear from the chest.
Cocteau lifted her head. “Secured?”
“Secure,” Bitiir and Gomez responded.
Wilson nodded his head.
“She needs verbal confirmation,” Bitiir sneered ever so slightly that any unknowing listener wouldn’t notice.
Wilson clenched his jaw, refusing to give Bitiir the satisfaction of his annoyance. “Secure,” he said, enunciating each syllable.
“Brace yourselves,” Cocteau said. She typed into her EC.
The sealed doorway parted.
A shockwave of wind abruptly knocked them back. Like a bomb bursting open, a thousand wistful wind voices howled, warning of the torrent before them.
“Remember your training!” Cocteau yelled above the wind howl. She stood, not even swaying at the sudden exposure. She stepped beyond the open threshold with ease.
How in God’s name is she so strong? Wilson thought as another wave of wind pushed him back. He and others pushed through, their cables slowly unraveling from within the maintenance bin. The pressure of the wind like a constant, unwelcoming hand pushing them back.
Wilson felt the magnetic gripping of his boots take hold as his feet dragged along the metal surface beneath. He hauled himself onto the scaffolding platform outside
It was as though he entered the center of a tornado, the wind going in no one direction. Although the metal on the platform was treated with resins and stains to protect it from sulfuric rains, the platform was still worn, corners warped and eroding away. He looked up, the Venus haze dimming the view of the scaffolding layers above him.
“Venus, ” Bitiir yelled over the windy tempest. “Truly the goddess of beauty.”
Droplets pelted swiftly across the visors of helmets and the thin material of their suits, both completely unaffected by the rain’s acidic nature.
“Doesn’t seem much of a beauty to me,” Wilson said looking over the side, down into more swirling haze and resisting the nauseating sensation brought on by vertigo. He couldn’t see more than a few feet ahead. Only the gripping in his boots kept him from blowing off the edge. “Seems more like hell.”
“Hell isn’t hot,” Gomez’s voice was oddly calm over the intercom, as though there were no storm at all. “It’s cold—empty.”
“Will you guys quit the small talk,” Cocteau yelled, signaling to them to come forward. “We need to prepare for the descent.”
The descent.
That was the part that terrified Wilson.
In the abandoned air city they were safe; a minimum of fifty kilometers up from a surface hotter than the boiling point of lead. Although they were not dropping the full fifty kilometers to the true surface, the artificial surface on SIC’s man-made mountain would still be dangerously hot and risk the dangers of high pressure.
SIC was willing to send living people down, but kept their precious Infinite up in the air city, safe from lasting harm. Their suits protected them from the sulfuric gasses and acidic air, but Wilson still doubted if the atmospheric adjustments would be enough once they reached their destination. Would this new acrylic compound in their suits really be enough to protect them during the survey?
“Anchored just in time,” Cocteau said, displaying the readings on her EC. “The mountain is positioned perfectly. We’ll be able to descend at an angle with the minimum amount of turbulence.”
She seems confident enough, Wilson thought. Or she just doesn’t care anymore.
Gomez dragged out a large silver spool that their cables ran through. It was no ordinary spool; it was completely enclosed, only allowing their cables through an opening at the bottom. It had buttons and dials to a computerized motor within it.
Wilson and Bitiir held it in place as she drilled it onto the edge of the platform.
Gomez finished with the last bit and stood. “This should ease our descent,” she said and wiped her arm across her helmet as though she were wiping sweat from her forehead. “The software should detect errors and give us a more controlled fall.”
“Alright, just as we practiced in the VR simulator,” Cocteau said, tightening her gear and lining up along the edge. The others followed suit.
“Release your magnetic boot grips to jump the platform.” She patted her harness. “Your cables are made with the same compound as our suits and should be able to withstand the heat as we near the mountain’s surface. But don’t get cocky. It’s still going to get hot and we’re going to be blown around.
“On my call, three, two—release!”
She jumped, falling into the mustard yellow mist and out of sight. Gomez and Bitiir followed.
Wilson hesitated.
“Wilson, descend!” Cocteau’s voice yelled into the intercom.
He searched for his team through the Venus haze. He didn’t move.
“Wilson, do your job!” Cocteau yelled again.
How could she tell? He held his breath.
And leapt.
It was the strangest sensation. Venus’s gravity was similar to Earth’s more than any planet in the known universe. But even with such similarities, Wilson could feel that his presence here was alien, that he did not belong in this world of sulfuric clouds. He should’ve been on Earth, and he reminded himself that he was the stranger here.
He was a fly trapped on sticky paper, the winds whipping him around, the planet trying to flick him away before he could land on her sacred land.
Muscle memory from descent training kicked-in: arms out and elbows at ninety degree angles. Feet flat, toes pointed, and thighs positioned higher than his pelvis.
He thanked every fiber in his body for his years at NASA, the athletic training for the space mission he never went on. It gave him the physical prowess to withstand this ordeal, even if he’d never be as strong as someone like Cocteau.
His wind gear activated, a fine feathery fabric fanning beneath his arms and legs creating wind resistance. The gear was supposed to steady the descent, enough to give back control of his body. But it felt useless against the power of Venus’s breath.
Gravity kept him going down and the cables slowed him to a controlled fall, or else the winds would keep him spiraling in its torrent forever. Exhilaration filled Wilson as he felt the temperature and pressure of his suit change, fighting against the atmospheric changes. The uneasiness of the clouds made him doubt if there truly was a hard surface waiting for him beneath their wall of atmospheric gasses.
Miraculously the descent cables did not tangle with one another. Memory of a mention scratched at the back of his mind; a complex algorithm in their gear that kept that from happening. He didn’t really care at this point, feeling on the edge of death as his suit strained to stay connected to his cable, his wind gear’s constant clashing with the tempest.
“One kilometer,” Cocteau’s voice sounded.
Wilson’s EC beeped, signaling a slow down to their drop. He felt increased pressure pull on his back as the cable stopped his descent. Although the advancements of the suits made the pressure change for them smooth, they still needed to give their bodies and suits time to equalize, or risk barotrauma—the bends from descending.
