Far Side Two
Copyright© 2025 by Gina Marie Wylie
Chapter 11
I
The exec of the U-37 spoke to his captain. “Sir, about those buildings. They can’t be very old, not unless they are made of something unknown on Earth.”
“I have a degree in Oceanography from an American university, the University of San Diego. It’s called pelagic ooze. It’s formed from microscopic marine animals and plants, and sediment from rivers, some dust from the atmosphere, and space. The animals that have calcareous or silica shells for the very greatest part. On Earth, deposition is maybe a hundred millimeters a century, a few centimeters over a thousand years. Our briefing didn’t extend to the micro-fauna of Arvala’s oceans,” Captain Friedrich replied.
“Captain,” the sonar operator spoke up again. “We are coming up on another break on the terrain. Sir, before I had a reading on how deep the bottom is. Sir, I’m not getting any return. It’s like the bottom isn’t there.”
“Probably the computer, sir,” the exec said. “It’s programmed to ignore anything below six thousand meters. Sonar, open your preferences and change the ignore depth.”
“Exec, I did that already. The greatest depth it will read is ten thousand meters. It still shows no bottom. I recommend we go to dead slow and make a circle turn so we can get a look at the cliff drop.”
“Helm, come to 180 magnetic and come to dead slow,” Captain Friedrich ordered.
A few minutes later, the sonar operator swore under his breath. Captain Friedrich looked over the man’s shoulder. He swallowed. Either the instruments were wrong or they were looking at a cliff more than ten thousand meters high.
“An eighty-degree slope, Captain,” the sonar man reported.
“Helmsman, start a circle, about a kilometer in diameter. Bring us up to periscope depth so we can report this to Director Schultz.”
II
“I don’t think I’m winning any plaudits with our employer, Number Two,” Captain Friedrich lamented after they had reported the depth of the abyss.
His exec smiled. “Captain, I don’t think the commodore or the DM has an opinion on our conduct.”
“I’m afraid we are nothing but mercenaries,” the captain said.
“The alternative was unemployment. We were docked, and the prospects were that we were never going to sea again, at least in this boat. I have a college degree in mechanical engineering. I will never be hurting, but for the enlisted men ... things are not so rosy.”
Captain Friedrich laughed. “A degree that is now meaningless. Andrea Schultz destroyed every economy on the planet and most technical fields of study. There are very few universities offering degrees in practical hydrogen fusion. As in none. Actually, my oceanography will be of more use in the future.”
He walked behind the new helmsman. “We are at eight knots, yes?”
“Yes, Capitan.”
“Let’s not waste any time. We are spending someone else’s money. All ahead full! Make turns for twenty knots!”
“Aye, aye, sir! All ahead full; turns for twenty knots.”
A minute later, the sonar operator spoke. “Captain, an unknown target designated Sierra-1 is coming up behind us. Captain, I can detect no screws ... but it is coming on at sixty knots.”
“Emergency blow! Up angle thirty degrees! Emergency surface!”
The exec laughed. “My grandfather wore a monocle. I wish I had one so I could have a perfect startle reaction!” He was holding onto one of the poles placed around to con to let the officers remain standing in dire circumstances.
“Side aspect shows that Sierra-1 is a hundred and twenty meters. Very streamlined! Coming up alongside us now.”
Captain Friedrich grimaced. “Remind me: there is no danger of destroyers here. We can cruise at periscope depth, not 75 meters.”
“Captain, Sierra-1 appears to be a biological,” the sonar man reported.
“So much for Schultz’s observation that nothing in the ocean was longer than a meter,” the captain complained.
“I’m leveling off to avoid broaching,” the planesman reported.
The chief of the boat spoke for the first time since they had departed Siran-Ista. “Captain, the target appears to be a marine animal of undetermined type. I can run the tape for you if you want.”
A voice spoke in the captain’s head. “It has been a very long time since our slumbers were disturbed. You may pass the deep areas unmolested so long as you cross the abysses with your depth sensors turned off. Otherwise, you will be destroyed with no further warning.” He got the impression of a very large animal turning around and returning to the deep water.
“Sierra-1 is breaking off, Captain,” the sonar operator reported.
“What was the maximum depth before the deeps?” he asked.
“On the west side, about 1400 meters. This side we are approaching is 1350 meters, Captain.”
“Come to dead slow and begin another circle at periscope depth. This time, we will delay longer. I have to code the report for this.”
Captain Friedrich was aware that the code machine he used to do the report was a computer with absolutely no external ports, and he’d been told in his briefing that there were no internal ports either. There was an internal RAM drive with only one place to plug it in. He carefully prepared his report, winced when he reread it, and sent it off unchanged.
III
Andie had learned that assumptions were a bad practice, but she had assumed that U-37 was going to have an uneventful voyage until it was close to the Tengri base. She was slightly interested in the initial report, but she considered the source and decided that it was geology, not a city. She had a dozen people hastily assembled at Siran-Ista when Captain Friedrich confirmed his initial observations.
Andie told the captain to carry on with his mission while a posse of geologists and other scientists tried to make sense of the pictures. “They only saw two damaged buildings,” one of the mechanical engineers said. “Imagine a civilization trying to prepare for the unthinkable -- the latest buildings would be built with best practices.”
Linda Walsh shook her head. “Geology -- you told us that the time line on the steps was at least fifty million years. That’s at least two hundred million years and maybe as much as a billion years. I dare you to build with ‘best practices’ a building that would be still standing after that time. Maybe you can explain the lack of lifeforms covering the building? That takes these buildings back to the Cambrian on Earth.”
Dr. William Clifford, the lead geologist, spoke. “We told you that we think this planet is seven and a half billion years old. That’s time for the planet to develop from Cambrian to modern times eight times. Eight times, Andie. We told you that the geologic clock has been reset at least once, and now I’m thinking it has happened multiple times.
“The ocean currents today are fierce; there is every reason to believe that in the past they were beyond fierce. One of these oceans would swallow the meteor that paid finis to the dinosaurs without even a hiccup. The B’Lugi reported a volcanic eruption that was larger than Santorini, maybe four or five times larger. The crusts on those buildings could have regularly knocked off, while there were major extinction events among the species. But they have to have been built with adamantium frames and covered with unobtanium. There is no metal even theoretically possible that would survive structurally intact underwater for more than a few thousand years, much less hundreds of millions of years, much less not subducted by continental drift. And the currents have to be scrubbing the bottom clean, which is the antithesis of what we see on land where we see maybe two dozen miles of sedimentary layers.”
Erica came in and handed Andie a message form. Andie read it, then leaned forward, resting her elbows on the conference table and massaged her temples. Linda reached for the form and read it. She looked up at the German commodore. “You are here because your people discovered this city. Now, Captain Friedrich proves again that he is smarter than the average bear. Dr. Clifford, take all your guesses about ocean volume and put them in the wastebasket. Captain Friedrich has found a trench deeper than ten thousand meters between here and the islands a hundred miles off the coast.”
“There are several deep trenches in the Caribbean,” Dr. Clifford said. “The Puerto Rican Trench is 28,000 feet deep, more than 8 kilometers, and is a hundred miles from Puerto Rico.”
“And I don’t believe there is anything that close on the other side of the trench,” Linda said. She turned to Andie and said, “The Marianas Trench is eleven thousand meters deep.”
Andie lifted her head. “Commodore, Captain Friedrich reports that he can’t measure depths more than ten thousand meters.”
“It’s a physical limitation, Miss Schultz. You can only put so much energy into a sound wave without damaging other delicate systems. There is nothing deeper in the Atlantic than nine kilometers, and we can only operate in the Pacific with basing facilities of a friendly power. The Americans and their allies are ... reluctant ... to have German submarines operating in the Pacific,” he replied.
Andie waved her hand airily. “Who needs drama? Send a reply to Captain Friedrich; he is to report how wide that trench is forthwith.”
“You think it’s not a trench? What if it’s a crack?” Linda Walsh asked.
“Cracks would be a mechanism for rapid sea level change,” Andie agreed. “About on the scale observed. If it is narrow, it’s a crack; wide and it’s a trench.”
“Sweetie, you are moving fast...” Linda replied.
“Suppose the Big Moon hasn’t been here forever; it’s more recent. In order for it to get tidally locked and in a circular orbit, there would have been physical manifestations on both bodies: cracks. Cracks. More over, it would have taken a hundred or two million years to settle: cracks. Cracks. How about tidal heating? That would have increased volcanism, I imagine,” Andie replied.
“If the Big Moon did arrive late in the history of the planet, it might have broken up Arvala. I can’t imagine the arrival of the Big Moon was a gentle event. I realize I am showing my roots, Miss Schultz, but suppose the Big Moon was moved? A culture on one or the other planets moved one to close with the other. Suppose we knew how to move Mars into orbit around the Earth? If we could move Mars, we could move some of the ice bodies in the solar system. Imagine dropping a couple of the larger ice asteroids or moons onto the planet. If you were really good, you could skim the outer atmosphere for years. Slowly degrade the impactor...” Dr. Clifford stated.
“Perhaps they made a mistake?” Linda speculated.
“In fact, we may never know, but it does open a plethora of possibilities,” Andie said.
Erica handed another message form to Andie. “Twenty-two kilometers.”
Andie chuckled. “Proving I’m not cracked, but Arvala is.”
Everyone in the room laughed, and Andie turned to Erica. “Tell Captain Friedrich to Charlie Mike.”
“Roger, Boss!”
“An explanation for your code word?” Dr. Clifford huffed.
“Continue the Mission. It’s rather famous in our military. When Ezra Lawson agreed to provide security for Kris and me, we didn’t know it, but his desire to kill people was hanging by a thread. Still, he continued his mission in spite of his personal opinions. Back on Earth, he volunteered to help Kris Boyle rescue people lost through Far Side doors. That didn’t turn out like he thought, and after Chicago, he resigned. Now he’s the armorer at the Rookery. The best example of the military adherence to ‘Charlie Mike’ I know of.”
Andie stood up. “I have things to do; I assume everyone has something to do.”
She left, followed by Linda Walsh.
IV
Gregor spent an uncomfortable hour fighting sleep, where he kept reviewing his lessons. As a result, he wasn’t even aware when he slipped into sleep. He was aware when his mind was invaded.
“Do not fight me, Little One, lest I end you.”
“I can see it in your mind. You mean to enslave me.”
Her words were intended to be soothing. “You only need to do a few tasks for me.”
“Your mind tells me that you are lying, that once I do even one thing for you, I will be yours forever. I will fight, and if I end, sobeit.”
“And I can see in your mind you’re not sure if you can win. There are other things I can see as well. You have those of your race with black skin.”
“In my home, we have let too many such live among us. They despise all women, they despise our laws, our culture ... everything about us. Now they are numerous and have started attacking us.”
“Ah, I see you consider them inferior, as you once considered others to be inferior. Those others weren’t inferior, but these blacks are different; they actually are inferior. Know that my people war on men with black skins. We have killed nearly all we have met. But they are clever and have better weapons than we have. One who could show our smiths how to build such weapons would be rewarded beyond avarice.
“That is a hopeless quest. You need special tools to make the special tools that make the special tools that can make the weapons. You need special tools to make the special tools to make the powder that burns in them to make them function, and you need different chemicals to make the powder that burns without smoke. You need special tools to make the tools that make the small bits of metal that those weapons shoot. I know of no one who knows how to make the tools of all of them; we work by dividing a job up into many parts, and each person knows only his part.”
“That is good to secure the knowledge, but unwieldy,” the alien thought.
“There are many people on my world. Thousands, tens of thousands for each person here.”
“Your world ... where is it?”
“Our great war leader connects our worlds. You step from one to another like going from room to room. Not only can you not see our star from here, we can’t see your star, or any of your stars. The doors can be turned on or off; so far, all of the origins are on my world. If you are thinking of attacking one, such an attack would fail. Most of the doors are too small for you to fit through.”
“How do you know what I look like?”
“I know. It’s there in your thoughts. I can’t always see them, but things leak through.”
“I think, Little One, I must end you.”
“It will be a memorable fight. Perhaps it might not go as you expect?”
“You have a puny mind. I can squeeze it like ... a grape ... that’s the image in your mind.”
“Tell me about your war with the blacks?” Gregor could see that surprised her.
“Why? You could warn them!”
“Warn blacks??” Gregor’s mind laughed and laughed. “Sweet justice for all the trouble they’ve caused at home! The War Leader warned them after your attack on their base that you might attack one of their ships. Like our blacks, they are not up to playing against serious opponents.”
“You seem to hold this War Leader in some regard,” the voice in his ear said.
“I respect people who deserve it. My nation warred with hers three generations ago. Not her, but their war leaders of the time turned the tables on us and beat us handily. They built more weapons than we did, built better ones, and then brought them to bear against us with tactics and strategies better than ours. Many of my people died, and all of our cities were devastated.”
“They could attack cities?”
“In fairness, we started attacking cities first. Our leaders thought that if their people got a taste of what war was like, they’d surrender. We viewed them as soft, not warriors. We were wrong. Then the current War Leader’s people intervened. They made enormously more weapons, enormously better weapons, and outnumbered us five to one. Our War Leader was a fool who thought everyone else was weak. No one has ever been more wrong.”
“Tell me about the machine you were on when you came.”
“It travels on and under the sea. I was responsible for steering it. But now my superiors doubt my abilities, and I’ve been ordered to headquarters to deal with messages.”
“I’ve noticed the blacks seem to do things in one place and know elsewhere what is being done.”
“My secondary job aboard the submarine was to work the radios. Radio allows us to talk to others, far away. The blacks have only the most primitive of radios. I made my first crystal radio when I was eight. You wrap some copper wire around a branch, two inches in diameter. You put a broad wire touching it, then hook copper to a pin or needle and touch it to a metal crystal. You run another copper wire from the crystal to the copper coil.”
“Very faintly, you can hear bursts of static. If nothing else, it is lightning in the vicinity, but you can create electric sparks easily enough, and the message is a number of short pauses and long pauses between sparks. Once you get to making sparks, you can change to short and long sparks. That’s what the blacks use. More than a hundred years ago, we could do better. On our submarine, we could talk into a radio, and the words could be heard thousands of miles away.”
“Can you build a device such as that?”
“If you imagine how difficult it would be to build a firearm, a radio like ours is a thousand times more difficult. And while I have the general knowledge of how to repair a radio, a general knowledge of submarines and how they work, I don’t have the particular knowledge to build anything complicated.”
“One of your people, I think it was the War Leader, sat down next to a midden heap and built a crossbow. Could you do tha?”
“
“Do you understand that the War Leader is one of the most intelligent people on my planet? Yes, I can make a crossbow, and could probably make one if I had the right materials. The thing is, I doubt very much if I would have known to do it. Picking a simple, but effective weapon from the materials available and knowing what would be useful is beyond me.”
“I should end you.”
“Before you start down that path, there is another way.”
“You either surrender or you will be ended. That is the only acceptable resolution to the impasse.”
“Perhaps we can find common ground.”
“I do not negotiate with such as you.”
“I hate blacks. Did you know we have yellows, reds, and browns? We have all kinds of hair color as well. You hate my race, white or black. The War Leader is going to carry the war to the lands of the blacks. When that happens, it will be too late because she will win quicker than any reasonable thinker would imagine possible. If you think about it, we are far more advanced in technology than anyone else on this planet. Imagine our war machines, like my submarine? We fly, you know. But we fly much higher and very much faster than you do. And our tactics are likewise more advanced than yours. The War Leader has brought special guns with eyes that see for many miles and follow anything flying. One shot, one hit. At fifteen kilometers.
“She has brought two iron surface ships as well as two iron submarines. Those vessels are nearly immune to any attack you can mount against them.
“I will help you against the blacks, but not the whites.”
“Unacceptable!”
Gregor felt her mind prying at his. He had no idea how to fight back or even if he could. He started simple, trying to imagine a shield he could wield against her mental thrusts. The more he concentrated on it, the more effective the shield became. It took about ten minutes of dueling before he realized she was rapidly weakening. So he studied the next two attacks and launched one nearly as strong.
The beast screamed in pain and frustration, launching another, heavier stroke. He parried that easily and smothered her next attempt at an attack. “Who is going to end whom?” Gregor said. “I have to add a little pressure, and you will be mindless. Surrender.”
“You filthy beast, once you do something for one such as us, you are their thrall.”
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