Today, it was an issue.
We’d learned from Department Zero records that an EM cage together with a light-opaque shell could be effective in keeping Antecessors out, so the transit sphere had been enclosed and rigged with the most powerful cage we could build. It was necessary because the transit spheres for uncontacted worlds have to be powerful enough not only to send material to another universe, but to bring it back as well. If the Antecessors chose to return with our ship, we needed to be able to contain them.
Iokan sighed as the Geology cruised gently through the entry port of the transit sphere. To him, it was a waste of effort, but he didn’t trouble himself to explain at length. A shadow fell across the viewing deck as we entered, and then there was only the safety lighting inside the sphere, newly rigged because they aren’t usually enclosed. And then that too was gone as the windows polarised and shutters slid into place to block even the slightest view. We were dealing with beings made of electromagnetism who would treat glass as an open door. No chances were to be taken.
“How long does it take?” asked Iokan. A bell sounded throughout the ship. “Not long,” I said.
For a moment, we were nowhere, nothing and no-one. We were conscious of nothing, but very much aware of the nothingness.
Then we were back. Iokan blinked. “That was it?”
“That was it.”
“We’re here?”
“We’re here.”
He got up, suddenly full of energy, taking a nervous breath. “How long before they come?”
“If everything’s going according to plan, we’re sending the signal now. So about eight minutes for that to get to the sun, then eight minutes for them to get back, if they move at lightspeed. Call it twenty minutes, maybe a bit less.”
“Ancients… after all this waiting, suddenly we’re moving fast.”
“We’ve planned this very carefully.”
“Well. Do we have to be anywhere in particular?”
“I’m waiting for a signal.”
“What happens then?”
“I’ll tell you when it comes.”
He was a little shocked. “Are you keeping secrets from me…?”
“Yes.”
“Why…?”
“I’m under orders.”
“I didn’t know you were a soldier.”
“I’m not. But I have superiors, and they have concerns about security.”
He was taken aback as he realised the implications.
“You mean they don’t trust me?”
“They’re being cautious.”
“Hm,” he said, mulling it over. But his frown did not last long. “I will see her, won’t I?”
“Of course.”
“And they’re not going to stop me going with her?”
“We’ve made arrangements to let it happen. If that’s what you want.” A chime sounded in my ear, and a message appeared before my eyes. “It’s time.” He took a breath as I rose. “Are you ready?”
He nodded, flexing his hands, trying not to show how much he trembled. “I’m ready.”
I took him through the ship, escorted by two security guards, to the recently installed Diplomatic Bay, a massive safe room in which normal humans could meet Antecessors without fear of contamination. A laminate carbonglass barrier protected the people within from both vacuum and anything electromagnetic. An EM cage was laced invisibly through it, and in addition the glass was polarised to opacity millions of times each second, so even something travelling at the speed of light couldn’t get through without being sliced in half. As an added precaution, we were issued with eyeglasses that would disrupt the sudden bursts of light-based information that had induced everyone on Iokan’s world to suicide.
The bay was big enough for a substantial number of people, but for now it was just me, Iokan and some security guards. Other people flickered into being in one section of the bay: diplomats and investigators, all of whom were restricted to remote access for now. This was primarily a diplomatic mission, but it was Iokan who had been invited first of all, and our initial responsibility was to let him join his species if that was what he wanted. The Antecessors had said they would come in peace and offered guarantees of safe conduct, so we were treating them with as much trust as we could under the circumstances.
Iokan was the only one smiling in the bay, and the only one who could not hear the ship’s Captain speaking to us through our implants, reporting that a response had been made to our initial hails, and that it came from very nearby — they had been awaiting our arrival in lunar orbit. They were coming to us now.
The empty space outside the bay filled with stars, a galaxy of lights surrounding and circling the ship. One of them brightened and approached, a point of light that became a disc, then a sphere full of suggestions of interlocking shapes, endlessly changing and forming, and then, as it floated into the bay, unfolding into a gleaming human shape whose brightness made us glad of the dimming effect of the glass wall between us and the creature.
The shape it unfolded into was that of a woman, hazy in form and outline save for the face, where her features sharpened to become those I’d seen in surveillance footage from the last days of Department Zero.
Iokan wept behind his glasses and stepped forward. “Szilmar…!” he whispered.
She floated there beyond the glass, and looked around, searching. She reached out and touched the barrier, then recoiled with a very human look of pain.
Words appeared on the far side of the glass wall, back to front from the perspective of all but the energy being: Please do not touch the glass.
She cocked her head.
More words followed. We apologise for any discomfort due to security precautions. Welcome to the Exploration Service Vessel Geology.
She read, then looked through the glass, scanning with who knew what senses. Please use the keyboard to communicate. A keyboard of light was drawn in the air in front of her. She didn’t immediately register it; instead, she locked eyes upon Iokan.
As far as he and the woman of light were concerned, there were only two people in the bay. He pushed past the security guards, who stepped aside when they saw me nod, and reached out to her, laying his palm flat on the barrier. She smiled back, and reached out her own hand, spreading it as close to his as she dared.
Messages came silently to me from the diplomatic team, saying they were about to ask the security guards to intervene. I begged them to wait. She might not be happy if we dragged him away.
Iokan took off his protective spectacles and looked on her with his own naked eyes, seeing the woman who had died and returned from heaven.
“Take me,” he said, full of joy and wonder. His words appeared automatically on the glass for her to see.
Her smile turned to sadness. She mouthed one word, too quick and indistinct for our translators to catch it. But Iokan understood, and looked confused. Someone thought to move the keyboard of light to her side. She noticed it, and tapped out a message: I will not take you.
His confusion turned to shock. She tapped again. It was wrong. It should not have happened.