Utu lifts his head and turns toward her, touching her arm. “Rest sister.” He slowly returns his attention to the assembly. “We wish to speak of your intention to land upon the Moon.”
Everyone turns instinctively to Borman, as if this whole Moon landing caper had been his idea. Obviously, it falls on him to respond at this point. He asks, “What would you like to know?”
“We wish to reach an understanding,” says Ningal. “There is territory on the Moon that belongs to us. We ask—”
“We demand…” says Utu.
His sister tilts her head slightly and pauses a moment to rise above her brother’s rudeness. “We ask for your assurance that we will be left alone.”
Borman is so relieved he can’t help smiling. Utu frowns. “Is this your response?” he demands angrily. “Would you prefer we blow your spacecraft to dust?”
The threat wipes the smile from Borman’s face. “No, I’m sorry, it’s just that…” He throws his hands up in surrender to avoid digging a deeper hole. Diplomacy is not his strong suit. “Let me explain. Your base is at the bottom of a lunar crater in the northern hemisphere of the lunar far side. It’s not visible from Earth. Am I right about that?”
Utu nods slowly in assent.
“We, that is, the American space program, have no intention of landing on the far side. It’s way too dangerous for us. We would have no contact with Earth if something went wrong. Where we touch down on the surface will be, I’d estimate, four to five thousand miles away from your home.”
“This is good,” Utu tells them.
“Lunar landing missions,” Borman continues, “will need to be in contact with Earth at all times. You can rest assured we won’t be coming anywhere near you, except from orbit.”
Utu nods, but does not appear entirely satisfied. “Perhaps not in your lifetime, Frank Borman. The future, however, shall remain an open book.”
Menzel cuts in at this point to say, “It is we who are an open book to you, Utu.”
Borman admits, “We do eventually plan to build a Moon base, but that’s a long way off. A long way off.”
Menzel says, “With Nixon in the White House, it may never happen.”
“We haven’t even made it to the surface yet,” Borman points out.
“But you will,” says Ningal, looking up at him. “I see it in your eyes, Frank Borman, the determination that drives you. I see your confidence.” Her eyes are gleaming. Her gaze is both intense and hypnotic.
Borman smiles shyly. “And I see yours.”
Utu says, “But you have something you want from for us, do you not?”
Fallon speaks for the first time. “We would seek the same assurance from you. Namely that you will not make your presence felt to any further manned lunar missions. Otherwise we cannot guarantee your existence remains a secret.”
She says, “On this we can agree.”
Emboldened, Borman takes a chance. “Please… would you allow me to see the inside of your ship?”
Trick puts his hand on Borman’s arm and whispers, “Careful now, old buddy.”
Coming from Trick, the note of caution is almost comical. Besides, the opportunity is simply too tempting. Who knows what technological wonders are inside? “I will understand if you refuse.”
Indeed, Utu refuses immediately. “No human has ever set foot inside a Ryl flying ship.” His tone suggests he’s worried they’ll infest the Ryl ship like rats.
However, Ningal demurs. “Frank Borman is no ordinary human being, brother. He has shown himself as a man of vision and courage. And I respect his audacity in daring to ask the question.” Damn it if she isn’t flirting with him. “I will show you and you alone,” she declares. “You have earned that right.” Utu looks far from pleased, whispering his reticence in her ear none too subtly. Yet he seems unwilling or unable to openly challenge her. She rejects his concerns. Her decision stands.
Fallon looks at Borman and mutters, “I hope you have a photographic memory.”
Ningal rises slowly to her feet. Utu stays seated with the rest of the human delegation, as his sister and Borman walk out of the tent and up to the Ryl spaceship. She waits while he walks all the around the ship’s circular hull.
The shape of the craft appears to pay no heed to aerodynamics. There is no suggestion of a leading edge or anything that could create aerial lift. He can’t begin to imagine the science on which its propulsion system is based. Up close, the ship’s skin gives off a dull glow like it’s super-heated. He returns to her with a list of questions and an expression of wonder on his face that makes her smile. He points to the hull and asks, “Is it safe to touch?”
She puts her hand on the hull. “Quite safe.”
He does likewise. It feels warm to touch, but not hot. He can feel a gentle pulsing vibration. He says, “It’s as if it has a heartbeat.”
“In a way, it does. The ship is self-aware.”
“Are you saying the ship is alive?”
“That it operates with its own level of consciousness, yes.”
“Incredible.”
“Oh, that is just the beginning. Inside, you will not believe it. The interior does not accord with the exterior.”
“Like the ship in Dr Who.” She looks at him oddly. “It’s a British TV show.”
She says, “See for yourself. But I must warn you — the ship security system will not allow you to remember it.” He stares at her blankly. How would that even work? She smiles. “I see you don’t believe me.”
“It’s not a matter of belief. I’m a test pilot and a lecturer in aeronautical engineering. And I have no idea how any of this is possible.”
“Our ship’s interior exists in a multi-dimensional state of flux. The inside is on a different dimensional plane from the outside. The interaction between the two states is the force that propels it.”
Borman has no words for what he’s feeling.
“You have been warned. Would you still like to see inside?”
He shakes his head in wonder. “I think you know the answer to that question.”
A door appears in the ship’s hull. She leads the way. He hears himself saying, “I can feel you.” It’s the last thing he remembers.
31
Borman is momentarily disoriented, like he’s waking out of anesthetic-induced unconsciousness. He has a sense that something has happened. Time has passed. He’s outside the Ryl ship again, standing in the same place he had stood before entering. Ningal is beside him. “Did I go in?” he asks.
“I did tell you that you wouldn’t remember. But I guess you forgot.”
Borman feels like the kid who lost all his candy. “Why take me in there if I can’t remember?”
“It was your wish. I want us to trust one another. I wish to be honest with you and hope you will pay me the same honor.”
“How can I know?”
She touches the top of his head, running her fingers across his short-cropped hair in an intimate gesture that for most women would be more than a little suggestive. He senses she has no such intention. Surprisingly, he’s also slightly abashed to note a certain feeling of disappointment. In defiance of all logic, her touch is incredibly alluring. Even in admitting this much to himself, he can see the absurdity of it. Yet he can’t stop himself — he reaches up to touch her face. Her skin is almost translucent but also bright, as if she too is lit from within.
She says, “I want to take you into space.” The way she says it almost sounds euphemistic. Borman doesn’t know how to respond. He’s immediately conflicted, flattering though the invitation may be. Taking flight on this ship would be an incredible experience, unforgettable if not for the fact that he would likely remember none of it. But there is Susan to consider. If he accepts, he knows Menzel will insist he keeps it secret and how can he do that? He promised her Apollo 8 was his last. If he goes now, OK, maybe she’d never know. But what if he never came back?