Chapter 2: Visa-Vis

Turbulence battered the little shuttle as it glided down through Valbara’s atmosphere, the other occupants in the cramped bay gripping the handholds on their seats and checking their safety harnesses nervously. Steven was strapped into one of the chairs, the lack of portholes making him feel like he was being shaken around inside a tin can.

Valbara was more than sixty light-years from Ganymede, and after spending five months on a commercial transport ship and enduring several superlight jumps, Steven was ready to stretch his legs. He had seen the planet from orbit before boarding the dropship, its continents stained in shades of green and curious violet, its glittering oceans wreathed in swirling cloud formations. Although he had been born and raised in the Sol system, he had never seen Earth, and Valbara was the first time that he had glimpsed a habitable world. The idea of liquid oceans and a breathable atmosphere, when potable water back home had to be melted from ice and the air filtered through machines, was almost too much to process. It was like spending your life starving, then discovering a planet made of cake.

As the shuttle leveled out, he guessed that they were close to landing, and it was soon confirmed when the craft transitioned to vertical flight mode. It lowered itself to the ground on its thrusters, its landing gear making it bounce as they absorbed the shock, then the ramp at the rear began to open. Steven felt his stomach churn momentarily as a lifetime of habit warned him to reach for his helmet, but instead of hard vacuum, warm air and bright light flooded through the gap.

The occupants rose from their seats, retrieving carry cases and bags that were stowed beneath their chairs or inside cargo netting above their heads, Steven following suit. By the time the ramp hit the tarmac, the sun was so bright that he could barely see, squinting against a kind of natural light that he had never been exposed to. Like standing too close to a UV lamp, he could feel its heat on his skin.

As he stumbled out of the ship, raising a hand to shield his eyes, he felt the breeze ruffle his hair like the current from an air vent. Someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned to see a man in a suit offering a pair of sunglasses to him. He put them on, and like turning down the brightness on a monitor, the world shifted into clearer focus.

“Thanks,” Steven said, the stranger giving him a nod. The man was a little taller than he was, his dark skin making his shaved head shine beneath the sun, his suit suggesting that he might be some kind of businessman.

“You’re from one of the Jovian moons, right?” the man asked with an accent that was hard to pin down. “Or perhaps Titan?”

“Ganymede,” Steven confirmed. “How did you know?”

“Because the first time I stepped off a shuttle on a habitable planet, I felt like someone was waving a welding torch in front of my face too. My name is Joseph – I’m from Enceladus, born and raised. I recognize a fellow tunnel rat when I see one.”

“Steven Zheng,” he replied, extending a hand. “You’ve been here before?”

“This is my third time,” Joseph replied as they shook. “My company has been negotiating contracts to buy aquaponic equipment from the Valbarans. They have a knack for designing self-sustaining farms with a very small footprint – perfect for moons like ours.”

“Seems a long way to come for some fish tanks,” Steven said as they began to walk away from the idling shuttle.

“The Valbarans can be surprisingly personable once you get to know them,” Joseph replied, guiding Steven down a ramp that led off the raised landing pad. “It helps to have someone here to grease the wheels, so to speak. There will need to be some modifications to the systems for the specific species we want to produce, but we could be eating salmon steaks with basil and chives in the tunnels before very long.”

“I’d love to try salmon.”

“Then you’ll do well here. The Valbs have discovered sushi, and they’re mad for it.”

He stopped to look back as Steven paused, taking in the sights for the first time.

Instead of an expanse of inky darkness, the sky above his head was a deeper azure than he could ever have imagined, clouds of water vapor the size of mountains drifting lazily through the stratosphere. If it hadn’t been for his familiarity with Jupiter, their scale alone might have made him lose his balance. As he turned his eyes to the horizon, he saw trees – not herbal gardens hanging from racks or crops bathed in UV lamps, but actual wild plants. Some were huge, their leafy fronds resembling those of palm trees, their hues ranging from familiar greens to the strange violets and purples that he had remarked from space. Life was endemic here, a carpet of grass waving in the breeze, shrubs and bushes lining the path ahead. There were beds of flowers, the myriad colors of their petals forming tiny nebulae, the reflective wings of insects catching the sunlight as they flitted between them.

Surrounding him were the buildings of the spaceport, their white facades and curving, oddly organic shapes like nothing he had ever seen before. Far from the utilitarian architecture of Ganymede – if industrial warehouses and refineries could be referred to as such – every structure seemed to be making some kind of statement, as though its designers had tried to distinguish it from the rest without straying too far from a common theme. There was a tall control tower with windows that looked out over the runway and landing pads, hangars for storing aircraft, and ahead of them was a terminal large enough to fill half a dome.

“Take it one step at a time,” Joseph warned, beckoning to him. “Your brain has to recalibrate to everything being a lot bigger than you’re used to. Look at the ground if you get dizzy.”

“I should be alright,” Steven replied, taking a few unsteady steps as he got his bearings. “I did surface work cutting ice.”

They followed the other passengers from the dropship down a path lined with bushes and trees, soon arriving at an entrance to the terminal. It was so strange to approach a building from outside and see the doors just ... open, as there was no pressure differential to account for and no airlock. It was cooler inside, likely air-conditioned, the edifice of glass and carbcrete letting the sunlight filter through. A series of support pillars held up the impossibly high roof, the white material lit from beneath by spotlights that were hidden inside planters, creeping vines that sprouted colorful flowers climbing them like tree trunks. The floor was polished to a reflective sheen, broken up by more planters filled with green ferns and motorized walkways that ran down the length of the building. The ceiling was made of twisting, interlocking shapes that flowed together like water, the gaps between them filled with glass to give the occupants a view of the sky. Most of the walls were giant panes of glass, and those that weren’t were occupied by booths and kiosks that flashed colorful messages in looping alien text. It seemed relatively quiet – Steven couldn’t see any aliens yet.

Steven took off the sunglasses and offered to return them, but Joseph shook his head.

“Keep the shades. You need them more than I do.”

They made their way to one of the walkways, stepping onto it and letting it carry them along like ore down a conveyor belt. It wasn’t even that far to walk.

“What brings you here, anyway?” Joseph asked.

“I won the lottery,” Steven replied.

“No joke?” Joseph chuckled. “I didn’t think anyone actually won those.”

At the end of the moving walkway, they passed through another door into what appeared to be a customs area. The passengers formed an orderly line in front of a metal archway that was guarded by half a dozen aliens clad in form-fitting jumpsuits, the trailing wires beneath the dark lining of their clothes giving them the resemblance of veins, their faces concealed beneath opaque clam-shell helmets. They had no weapons drawn, but each of them had a holster on their hip for some kind of handgun.

Steven had read up on Valbarans during his journey, but it was his first time seeing one in person. They were short creatures, standing at barely shoulder height to the average human, with comparatively short torsos and long, digitigrade legs that ended in two-toed feet like birds. These didn’t look like they weighed more than fifty or sixty pounds. They had prominent hips and stocky thighs, their long tails held aloft to help balance them. Based on the pictures that he had seen, he knew that they were covered in green scales beneath those suits – with some who lived in the planet’s colder regions having a covering of fluffy proto-feathers. Their snouts were elongated and lizard-like, filled with sharp little insectivore teeth.

Their most unusual and prominent feature was their feathers. Contained in flexible, muscular sheaths that attached to their heads and forearms was vibrant plumage used for emotional displays and social signaling. He was disappointed that he couldn’t see any through the suits, but he noted that the aliens had colored panels on their sleeves and on the twin appendages that hung from their helmets like hoses. Perhaps those translated their feather signals into color patterns.

The aliens were waving the visitors through one by one, the arch scanning them, perhaps searching for contraband or collecting biometric data. Joseph went through ahead of him, and then it was Steven’s turn, the nearest alien gesturing for him to stop. It was a quick process, and once the scan had been completed, he was silently waved through.

Next was a processing area with several staffed booths, the visitors heading over to them, Steven following suit. There was no baggage claim like there would be on a human colony – he was simply carrying everything that he had brought with him in a rucksack.

When it was his turn, he stepped up to a desk that was at about chest height to him, seeing a Valbaran without a helmet peering up at him. Just like the pictures, it had a mosaic of fine, shiny scales covering its long snout. Its eyes were a vibrant violet, the black sclera framing them, the two feather sheaths draping down the back of its skull like a pair of long braids. It looked like a little dinosaur to him.

He noted that this one was wearing jewelry, a gemstone hanging from a fine chain over its forehead, its eyes ringed with some kind of paint or makeup like mascara. Suddenly, its twin sheaths flexed, sticking out straight to either side of its head. They erupted into a mesmerizing display of plumage, the emerald hues shining with iridescence, each impressive feather tipped with an eyespot that reminded Steven of a peacock. When the alien saw that he was alarmed, the hues shifted from green to purple, and it stowed them again.

“Apologies,” it began in a high-pitched, male voice. The accent was impeccable, indistinguishable from that of a native speaker. “I did not mean to alarm you. Welcome to Kalahar. I assume that this is your first time visiting Valbara?”

“That’s right,” Steven replied, trying not to stare. Knowing that aliens existed and speaking to one were two very different things. Every time the Valbaran moved his head, his fine scales reflected the light, picking out their texture.

“May I ask what the purpose of your visit is?” the alien asked as he began to swipe at a display that was out of view from Steven’s perspective.

“I’m relocating as part of a UN job placement program,” he explained.

“Oh, congratulations!” the alien replied. His sheaths flashed a display of yellow plumage, but Steven was ready for it this time. It might be a gesture of surprise or perhaps a compliment. “It says here that you traveled from... Ganymede on a ship called the Jovian Star – is that correct?”

“That’s right,” Steven replied, noting that the alien stumbled over the unfamiliar words. He seemed to be pronouncing them phonetically. Strange for someone who seemed to have such a perfect grasp of the language.

“I see that your request for a permanent work visa was filed and accepted half a rotation ago, and all of your United Nations documentation seems to be in order. We have your biometrics on file now, and you’re registered in our database. Do you have any foreign biotics to declare that might have been missed by our scans, such as unprocessed meat, seeds, or live insects?”

“Nope,” he replied. “I can empty out my pack if you like. I’m traveling pretty light.”

“That won’t be necessary,” the Valbaran replied, his eyes scanning a readout. “Everything seems to be in order. Do you have a data storage device such as a tablet or phone with you?”

“I have my phone,” Steven replied as he fished it out of his pocket.

“May I have your consent to download a data package to it?”

“Of course. Do whatever you need to do.”

The Valbaran took the device with a three-fingered hand – Steven seeing the sheath that was wrapped around the alien’s forearm – then moved it out of view. A few moments later, it was returned to the counter, and Steven picked it back up.

“Your phone has been linked to your biometric ID and will now be able to access the city’s intranet,” the Valbaran explained. “I have also uploaded a copy of the legal documentation that we provide to new arrivals. It gives a brief overview of our laws and customs, along with advice about how to access emergency and public services, and an outline of your rights and responsibilities as a foreign resident. Please take some time to go over them and ensure that you understand them properly, as you will be asked to sign a consent form before you leave the terminal. You will find some human seating over there,” the alien added, gesturing behind him. “Please do not hesitate to ask if you have questions. I am here to help.”

“Thanks so much,” Steven replied, giving the alien a grateful nod before heading over to the seats. There were a few other visitors sitting there already, scrolling through the documents on their various devices. He sat down and opened up the files, his phone displaying a holographic image.

“All good?” Joseph asked, flopping into a seat beside him. “I see they gave you the primer.”

“What the hell?” Steven muttered, his brow furrowing as he began to scroll. “How is this a primer? There’s twelve hundred pages here! It would take me all day to read this!”

“That was how I reacted when I first arrived,” Joseph chuckled. “One thing you need to know about the Valbs is that they love their bureaucracy. They won’t do anything if it wasn’t decided by committee, and they like to have everything in writing. They think, read, and speak faster than we do, and they have close to perfect recall. A Valbaran could probably read that in a half hour and recite any given subsection back to you.”

“I can’t even remember my own civil ID number,” Steven grumbled.

“Do yourself a favor and just sign whatever they give you,” Joseph advised with a shrug. “It’s not like you’d rather go back to Ganymede, right?”

“Guess I don’t have much of a choice in the matter.”

“Here,” Joseph added, producing a phone and swiping it in Steven’s direction. “I just sent you the address of an expat forum. They’ll be able to give you a much more concise rundown and answer any questions you might have.”

“Thanks,” Steven replied. “I don’t know what I’d do if you’d decided to take a different shuttle.”

“This is not my first rodeo,” he said with a smile. “One more piece of advice – write things down. The locals will expect you to remember things that no human could ever remember. They might casually mention the date of a meeting in the middle of an unrelated conversation and be offended when you forget to show up. It’s not their fault – you’ll make plenty of false assumptions about them, too.”

“Are they friendly, at least?” Steven asked with a worried expression.

“They love aliens, and they’re very accommodating. Some of them might treat you as a celebrity or a curiosity, so be prepared to get more attention than you’re probably used to. Their first contact wasn’t all that long ago.”

“GPS seems to be working, and the UN gave me the address of the place I’m supposed to be staying at,” Steven continued as he scanned the phone. “I suppose that’s all I need.”

“Keep in mind that the GPS will estimate travel time on foot a little weird here. Valbarans tend not to walk long-distance – they ride scooters. Also, if you can’t find the restroom, it’s probably outside.” Joseph rose to his feet, extending a hand again, Steven shaking it. “I need to get going – got a connecting shuttle to catch, but I left you my number in case you have any more questions. I’ll be in Kalahar for a few weeks.”

“You’ll have to let me buy you a drink sometime,” Steven replied.

“I might take you up on that. Kalahar has some great lounges.”

They said their goodbyes, Steven thanking Joseph again before returning to the Valbaran at the booth. Signing the documents took the form of a biometric imprint akin to a fingerprint, and he could only hope that he hadn’t just consented to having all of his organs harvested for scientific research.

“Please enjoy your stay,” the alien said with another flush of emerald feathers. It made Steven wonder how they changed color – different layers, perhaps? “Your timing is impeccable. A vessel will be leaving for the mainland shortly.”

“Mainland?” Steven asked. “I didn’t realize that we were on an island. My shuttle didn’t have any windows.”

“Simply follow the path from the exit down to the main dock,” the Valbaran explained. “It’s impossible to miss.”

“Thanks again,” Steven said, heading for the exit.

He stepped outside through an automatic door into more bright, unfiltered sunlight, making him glad of his shades once again. Now that he was out of the spaceport compound, he could see that he was indeed on an island. Beyond the swaying palm trees in the distance, the grass gave way to white beaches, and further still was an expanse of sapphire-blue water. It seemed to blend with the sky on the horizon, the sunlight reflecting off its calm surface, gentle waves creating white foam as they lapped at the shore. There were more islands rising up from the ocean to form an archipelago, some little more than sandy atolls with a few clinging trees, others large enough to have their own pale buildings rising above the treetops.

“Holy shit,” he chuckled to himself, taking in the view for a moment. His shuttle must have crashed on its way down, because what could this be if not heaven? It was like a parody of a tropical paradise dreamed up for an immersive VR sim, the water too clear and blue to be believed, the sweet air free of the metallic aftertaste of filters or the stench of coolant. “Feng, you wouldn’t believe this. Double jackpot...”

Further ahead, he could see the docks that the Valbaran had mentioned – a small cluster of white buildings with a pier that extended into the shallows. Docked beside the pier was some kind of craft. Steven had never seen watercraft or aircraft in person before, as Ganymede had neither an atmosphere nor oceans, but he had seen pictures and toys of boats and planes. It looked like an airboat, its stubby wings ending in large pontoons like a catamaran, the main hull terminating in a rounded nose with a set of raised cockpit windows like a passenger liner to give it a kind of humped appearance. Instead of an enclosed fuselage like a plane, it had a flat section more akin to a ferry where it appeared that the passengers could walk about freely. It sure as hell didn’t look like it could fly, so maybe it was some kind of strange boat? These were aliens, after all, and their designs didn’t need to make sense to human eyes.

He started down the track, watching the fronds of the nearby trees sway in the wind, the movement of flitting insects catching his eye. The fact that he could see a destination that was so far away and simply walk there without having to pass through half a dozen airlocks had not yet lost its novelty.

It only took a few minutes to reach the docks, but as he neared the buildings, the allure of the ocean became too much to resist. He stepped off the path and crossed the grass, feeling sand crunch beneath his boots as he reached the shore. The surf lapped at the beach like it was breathing, Steven waiting until it was at its lowest before crouching down to sink his fingers into the wet sand, letting the cool water wash over his hand when it returned. He laughed at the sensation, then brought a finger to his lips, tasting the salt on his tongue. If he melted one of the blocks of ice that he mined in the quarry, it might taste something like this.