Visitation - Exodus (book 2 of 2)

All four local craft back at the base were to be piloted by the last four of Ivan’s protégés. They had left successfully and had been crammed full with as many people as possible.

There had been no issues with possible detection and they had sped on their way uneventfully. The pilots, who were in effect still in training according to Ivan, had performed well. They had been met approaching the halfway point by Franz who escorted them to the obscured side of the Moon and into the Ark’s hanger where their contents of some two hundred adults and a few children disembarked to be taken to the occupation and restaurant areas.

Dr. Jarinda had not searched the entire Ark, that might take weeks, or more likely months, it was so large. Reading those signs that she had found would prove immediately useful, she had decided for expediency to write translations, in English, using a yellow wax chalk on the wall alongside them. This stood out fairly well on the grey surface of all the walls.

As soon as the disembarked passengers, many with wide eyes especially the few children accompanying the specialists, had been guided by one of Ed’s assistants out of the hanger and away to a dormitory area. To them this was one great adventure.

A little ceremony had been held to promote all the young trainee pilots up to fully qualified status by Caterin and Franz. It was explained to them that they would all now play critical roles in co-piloting the large crafts in the Exodus exercise proper; no more training, this was for real.

The new arrivals, having settled in the best they could, many would not have slept in such types of dormitory accommodation before, were then escorted to ‘enjoy’ a meal in one of the enormous restaurant areas.

The first large craft piloted by Ivan and one of his newly promoted pilots, from among those had come with us on the first flight, had left for Earth and the clock was running. Less than three hours from now the next craft would depart and should pass the previous one about mid-way, if all was going well.

Giving the first craft time to be away and leaving a clear space in which to practice, Franz took all the other newly promoted juniors on short training flights in a large craft outside of and round the Ark. He also allowed them all in turn to enter and park in the hanger area. 

This was much easier than they had all expected because of the Ark’s ability to take control of an approaching craft and bring it inside automatically.

I had sought out and found my way to those quarters set aside for Caterin’s team, which included myself, for a well needed rest. Dr Jarinda’s yellow chalked sign up there above the access door entrance -

 - told me all I needed to know. 

I entered, selected a bed without much thought in what was more or less a dormitory. Sharing space like this was not a problem for me as it was reminiscent of my military days. The beds were not the simple steel frames and foam mattresses of years past, but a sort of one piece, smooth, composite construction on four legs into which it was able to sink most comfortably.

I put my helmet aside and plonked my head down without any sort of ceremony, then rapidly sank into the warmth of a light sleep.

A short while later (I thought it might be a short while) I awoke and considered that I had rested for as long as I needed to. Not much more than a power-nap of about an hour and a half according to my suit watch. I was now restless and got up from my bed in this dormitory. 

Taking my helmet and gloves in hand, I wandered back towards the hanger.  I was curious to see how the Exodus was progressing and for any news of my family. Who was the person I walked into as soon as I entered the hanger, none other than Caterin.

“What are you doing here Ian? You are supposed to be resting, catching up on some sleep,” Caterin assailed me.

I attempted to get a word in but the opportunity did not arrive as she continued the assault.

“I told you that you were to have a period of rest because I considered that you were tired. Have you eaten today?”

“No? I didn’t think so,” she ploughed on not waiting for my reply. I guessed she didn’t need to; she could pick up my well being, or otherwise, by other than visible means.

“Correct Ian,” came the cold confirmation.

“Ian,” Ed’s voice behind me caused me to spin round. “You should be taking rest, what are you doing here?”

“Not you as well,” I replied, “this is an ambush. I’m fine. I just wanted to see how matters were progressing.”

“I can understand your excitement mate, but you have not even had the minimum of sleep. How long have you had, a hour or two?” came the rhetorical questioning. “You are not the young man in uniform that you once were.”

I was receiving a military bollocking for real, and after all these years!

“You may have had some work done on you back at base resulting in your body being well ahead of mine, but you need rest as do I. I’m starting to feel the effort to stay awake, and I am most certain that you must be,” Ed added.

“I understand that Caterin directed you to take a rest, why did you not follow her instructions, eh?”

Caterin was remaining strangely silent and I was actually stuck to make a sensible reply that did not lead to further incrimination. Ed was doing his job well, he had not lost any of his military skills. I looked him straight in the eye and started a wry smile that he understood immediately.

“What is it with you ex-military types?” Caterin interjected verbally with a genuine query yet edged with a firmness that should have elicited an answer.

“I’ll sort this out Caterin,” Ed offered before I could say anything in reply. “Leave it with me please. Ian follow me, now.”

This was an old fashioned order from Ed, not a request.

His open palm suggested the direction that I was to walk in, away from Caterin and I found myself obliging as my feet took me away. I did not look back.

“You don’t need to look back, Ian, and put your blocking wall back up again. I can’t have your thoughts bouncing round at such volume when you become excited or upset,” her thoughts followed me as I walked away.

“Get back to the level of control you started a short while ago.”

“Will do,” I replied simply.

I stayed as blank as I could, not upset, not angry, just as blank as possible as I walked through the door out of the hanger.

“I want to show you something Ian,” Ed offered.

“Yes, OK. whatever mate,” I responded, picking up on his dropping of anything hinting at a military stance; that had been for Caterin’s benefit.

Ed led me along the corridor back towards the dormitory where my bed-space was located. He walked straight past it, myself following, for another twenty minutes or so until we stepped into a room identified, by Dr. Jarinda’s chalk, as - 

This was the first time, after I had been told about them earlier, I had actually been inside one. I was somewhat taken aback by the size of the place.

These were full of long tables and chairs easily recognisable as something from Earth and at a guess could probably seat over a thousand people.

Two long side walls, were lined with what looked like recessed glass faced cabinets each with a sort of symbol engraved keypad alongside.

It had taken a little while for Dr. Jarinda to figure out that these were food dispensing machines; Caterin’s gamble was paying off. Dr. Jarinda had some difficulty in determining how they operated but with Ed’s practical mind it had been sorted, and in an obviously practical way. 

He told me that he had pressed each button in turn on one of the pads, guessing which one was the ‘OK’ one, until it was clear something was working from the slight noise coming from the cabinet. 

This was followed by a side wall inside the cabinet opening from which a small wax like coated paper plate appeared with something, believed to be food, sat in the centre of it.

This had not been recognisable as food at first, being delivered in small variously textured slabs, some hot, some cold. 

Ed, as enterprising as ever, had simply sampled everything that was produced and declared what he had in front of him as either savoury or sweet and occasionally gave a particular sample the name of something back on Earth to which it approximated in taste. 

A list of symbols and corresponding descriptions in English were put together hastily and then copied onto pieces of paper (who had brought stationary with them? As an ex-senior rank or even as a working engineer, I should have but I had not - a mistake I did not own up to) to be stuck on the walls adjacent to each of the dispensing machines.

The cold drinks in plastic type tumblers that were produced by these ingenious machines, depending on which button had been depressed, were altogether another issue as they were all acceptable fruit juice sorts but only one that Ed recognised, the one that I had enjoyed in my recovery and since. 

There were no hot drinks.

Ed was kept busy, placing himself at some risk tasting everything, as was Dr. Jarinda preparing the hand written menu notices.

The rations that had accompanied each new arrival were stored away for an emergency as, to everyone’s delight, the food dispensers continued to work perfectly even after hundreds or was it many thousands of years left unattended. They were producing a range of food and drink that was most welcome and generally acceptable.

How they could function after such a period of time was unfathomable but that they did was the most important thing worthy of consideration.

A lot of tables were taken up by, what I assumed to be, some of the initial party from the base that had left in the local craft. A great deal more were occupied by faces I did not recognise at all.

“I guess that these are some of the people that came in the four local craft,” I asked Ed rhetorically.

“Correct Ian,” he replied. “They are enjoying a meal and a drink from these dispenser cabinets along the walls. I have sampled most of what they produce and I’m still standing so I guess the technology is still working well and the people who built this, Caterin’s ancestors, were much like ourselves.”

“What you should be saying Ed,” I replied, “is that we are much like them. They modified us way, way back, creating us in their image. Have you not read my book.”

“No mate, I’ve heard of it, but I’ve not read it all the way through. The phrase ‘... in their image ...’, isn’t that something from the Bible?”

“Correct,” I replied. “And it is quite literally true, although not in the complete way that the Bible text would imply. Our DNA was altered, or added to, with some of theirs and that’s why we are so similar.”

“I must get hold of your book and read it properly. I thought it was just some sort of sci-fi novel. I’m not really a fan of sci-fi, not my stuff. I promise I will try again to understand where you are coming from. There’s clearly a lot I don’t know.”

This was quite genuine from Ed and I just left matters rest with a smile.

“What was it you wanted to show me,” I asked.

“You were an engineer, weren’t you?” Ed asked for confirmation.

“I still am mucker, just not at the office any more,” I replied flippantly.

He just smiled and continued, “Well come with me, I want you to see this.”

Ed moved off to the far end of the restaurant, me close behind, past the seated people with empty plates and part full beakers, who seeing the ‘suits’, raised an arm in a friendly wave to match their beaming faces. A few “thank you’s” were directed our way as we passed through.

I smiled and nodded back in reply but hurried on to catch up with Ed who had barely slowed his pace.

At the end of the restaurant were a few scrawled words in yellow wax chalk on the wall; Dr. Jarida’s work, no doubt; they spelt -

This was certainly my field and I looked forward to what was behind the door clearly outlined in the wall. Ed opened the door with a sweep of his hand along the wall and in we stepped.

It seemed there was no lock on the door and that bothered me so I questioned Ed.

“How come the plant-room door is not locked?” I asked

“No idea mucker, that’s how we found it,” came the explanation.

As we stepped through the open door, the lights came on in a sequence along the massive room immediately to reveal a plethora of vessels and pipework.

I had been in many plant-rooms in my career and even the best laid out and tidy ones were no comparison for this; this was immaculately clean, as clean as the restaurant we had just walked through. I would have been happy eating a meal in here.

High level rows of, what looked like multiple stainless steel pipes ran both left and right. Branches off them ran down the far and near wall to vessels, of a similar stainless steel appearance and with what I clearly recognised as hand operated wheel valves and some kind of solenoid valves. I wondered if I was really looking at stainless steel; probably not.

What I took as the electrics, perhaps they were also something else, I wasn’t sure, did not correspond to anything I had seen on earth. I guessed the very small tubing and what I took as a reducing-in-size containment trunking, served some sort of similar purpose.

I looked for a control panel, my first stop for inspection whenever I entered a plant-room I had not been inside previously. There directly opposite me, was another room projecting into this plant-room, windowless, but into which much of the ‘containment’ swept down from high level; this looked promising.

I walked over and looked for a means to open a door but there wasn’t one. Hand sweeps across the wall, where I thought it might be, and then everywhere else, were to no effect.

“I’ve tried that Ian in the manner of Dr. Jarinda, but to no avail. Perhaps it requires some sort of pass fob or card, restricted to Senior engineers and above, so that our sort definitely do not gain entry,” Ed offered.

“I was a Senior Engineer,” I replied with mock annoyance and a laugh, “but I guess this is not meant for my eyes or itchy fingers.”

“Take a look at this Ian; follow me.”

Ed led me off to the left, along the gap between the left and right rows of upright domed vessels, to the far end of the room. Here we turned left and more lighting came on. We were now looking along a plant space running behind the rear of the dispenser cabinets which projected backwards into this plant-room.

The cabinets, or rather the rear of them as I could see, were connected by multiple small pipes branching down off the plethora of others that were running in a very organised arrangement at high level.

There were some smaller ones, a bit like thin electrical cable, that I guessed correctly or otherwise had to be some sort of power supplies. What I perceived as some sort of ventilation ductwork, well I thought it looked like ducts, connected to either end of the cabinet shapes. None of them carried any identification banding or labels, which I mentally noted as bad practice, but there again I was thinking of back home and things were clearly done differently here. Who was I to be critical of those who had built such an impressive system aeons ago?

“It’s the same on the far side of the restaurant but opposite handed,” Ed offered.

This snippet was comforting in a sort of way to know that whoever designed and constructed this, had thought in a generally similar manner, many thousands of years ago, to the engineers including myself, of today. There appeared to be some solid principles in engineering which were being confirmed there before my eyes; this was most satisfying. There was one factor that contradicted this however and I spoke out loud, “Where are the pumps?”

I realised that among this wonderful installation of service pipework, presumably carrying some sort of food component or liquid, there had not been a sign of anything I recognised as a pump. Valves, yes, but no pumps. I looked for pipes passing through walls, thinking that they may be located elsewhere, but they did not exist.

If this was the food delivery, mixing, or whatever system, there had to be pumps and fill points for replenishment, but there were none. There were no temperature or pressure gauges, no safety valves and the more I looked for common features of a plant-room the less I found. I guess my initial presumption about a commonality in engineering over the aeons, was rapidly being modified and was now taking into account that I was looking at something way ahead of my understanding.

Senior Engineer? I had better think again.

This installation had a great feel of familiarity about it, but that was diminishing the more that I took in the detail. I was developing very rapidly a feeling that I should not be in here, less I touch something I shouldn’t, disturbing a delicate process or receiving an electric shock (or whatever).

I was a guest only and would have to carefully retreat until the engineers who designed this could explain what I was looking at; of course such people died many, many aeons ago.

I was impressed and somewhat nervous at the same time; a very good, life preserving attitude for an engineer in a strange place. I retreated out of the plant-room, into the restaurant, with Ed close behind me.

He directed me to the first table we encountered near to the end dispenser and pulled out a chair for me to sit on. This place had all the feel of a nineteen-seventy’s works cafeteria with plastic-like chairs and melamine-like faced tables. I had to assume that this was not the plastic nor the melamine of the sort to be found on Earth.

I wondered if the food might be in a similar vein, substantial but different, a stodge perhaps; I was guessing. Ed may have anticipated my curiosity and this was his reason, perhaps, for bringing me here.

He stepped up to the end dispenser and reading from a hand written list stuck on the wall, he pressed two of the buttons in sequence on the adjacent keypad.

There was a pause for a few moments and then I saw a plate slide out from the side wall inside the dispenser with something on it that was giving off a little steam. The glass frontage slid away and Ed reached in, taking the plate to present it to me.

It held a sort of rough textured, brownish substance, roughly square, something of the size of a piece of treacle tart cut from a large tray of some school meal. Why I had now thought of school meals, I didn’t know, but it seemed to fit.

The plate was something part way between waxed paper and plastic, clearly serving its purpose, and was accompanied by what I took to be a plastic knife and fork laid upon it.

This was now reminding me of in-flight meals on a budget holiday aircraft, then I realised I was in flight, of a different sort, but certainly not going on holiday; perhaps I was.

I was fascinated that a knife and fork of a not unusual pattern came with the meal; again I was struck with the notion that there was clearly some universality in the ergonomics of both ourselves and our ancient predecessors.

“Don’t just stare at it Ian, get stuck in, use the diggers it came with.” Ed broke my train of thought.

I hadn’t heard the term ‘diggers’ for a long time. This was another old military, humorous euphemism for a knife, fork and spoon, a ‘KFS’ set. In times of emergency ‘in the field’ they were laughingly taken as being an essential, but imaginary, set of tools to dig a hole or a ‘scrape’ in the ground to provide a degree of protection from incoming shell fire. Of course the ‘diggers’ could not actually dig a trench but the metaphorical analogy was a part of a well practised and humorous military slang.

The table now had another plate of food, or whatever it was, in front of Ed who was sat opposite me and also two beakers of chilled juice. Very clearly chilled drinks because of the condensation forming on the outside of the translucent beaker.

I recognised the juice from its smell and took a welcome draught; it tasted oh so good.

“Thought you might like that, Ian. It’s nearly the same as the one back at the base, isn’t it?” he asked.

I nodded.

It certainly was and I was feeling much better for it.

I tried the brown square, which broke easily under my plastic fork, and it was really delicious, a sort of savoury, fibrous texture which, if I closed my eyes, was very close, possibly, to a boiled beef casserole. I quite enjoyed it and it soon went down.

“Thought you would also enjoy that one, Ian; finish off your rations and then come with me.”

I scoffed the savoury stuff and knocked back the drink, then arose from my seat to follow Ed who, like myself, was also carrying his empty plate, beaker, knife and fork. He pressed another of the array of symbol engraved buttons and the glass door slid away to allow him to place his used plate and beaker inside.

“Add yours to mine Ian,” he directed, and I did.

He pressed another of the buttons and the glass door slid shut, the compartment filled with, what I had to assume was steam, and I caught a brief glance of the plates, etc., moving off to the left, the opposite direction from which they came into the dispenser.

“Great isn’t it?” he asked rhetorically.

“If you need to know what to eat and drink, look at the translations pinned up on the wall. It’s not exhaustive, there must be lots of combinations we have not tried, but there’s enough to provide a filling meal and something cold to drink.”

  “Magic,” I agreed. “The stuff of science fiction writers,” I laughed at my own joke.

“Do you really think this will keep everybody sustained for the journey ahead?” I asked.

“It looks like the combination of key presses on those pads is way beyond the few we have tried,” he replied, “and written up on those lists. Someone will no doubt continue to experiment and pass on the word of what they have found, for good or bad.”

He laughed at a joke that was partly explained. “Jarinda and I did not come up with our lists without tasting some pretty grotty scoff and neither of us have been casevacced yet.”

This was another piece of military shorthand that meant ‘casualty evacuation’; Ed was making me feel really at home. A ‘home’ from many years back maybe but in the current circumstances definitely a home. He led the way back to the dorm as we exchanged our experiences of life in the military, the big topic being the canteens which served some really solid food for hungry stomachs, unlike that which we had just eaten. Yet the restaurant food did make us both feel full despite the ‘small’ portion.

We agreed it must be something in the order of the military ‘compo’ field rations which never provided an enormous meal but were packed full of energy, but also often led to some difficult constipation problems.

Back at the dorm Ed insisted that this time I was to sleep for a few hours at least, as he would himself. He was not a youngster, although I guessed a few years behind me, but was tiring fast and in need of rest.

“I’ve not found any (sleeping) bags yet,” he told me, “so we will just have to doss-down on those mattress things, they’re not that bad, and the room’s warm.”

He put himself on a bed next to mine, dumped his helmet and gloves on the bedside cabinet thing, as did I on mine, and stretched out to sleep.

I let the warmth and pleasure of descending into a sleep, on an apparently full stomach, take over again.

 .