Back To Earth - Danilo Clementoni 2 стр.

Elisa did not attach much importance to all this. Her real reason for accepting the offer to participate in one of these expeditions was that she would finally be able to return to the place she loved most in the world, doing the work that she loved. In spite of her relatively youthful age (thirty-eight), she was one of the most accomplished in her field.

“Good evening, Colonel,” she said, wearing her best smile. “To what do I owe this honour?”

“Doctor Hunter, there’s no need for affectations. You know very well why I’m calling. The permit you were granted to complete your work expired two days ago. You can’t stay there any longer.

His voice was firm and decisive. This time, not even her undeniable charm would be enough to secure any further extension. She decided she would play her last card.

Since 23 March 2003, when the coalition led by the United States had decided to invade Iraq, with the express intention of deposing the dictator Saddam Hussein, accused of holding weapons of mass destruction (an allegation that subsequently proved to be unfounded), and of supporting Islamic terrorism in Iraq, all archaeological research, already difficult enough in times of peace, had suffered a setback. Only the formal end to the hostilities on 15 April 2003 had rekindled the hope of archaeologists around the world that they would once again be able to access the site where one of the most ancient civilisations in history had developed, before spreading their culture across the globe. The decision of the Iraqi authorities, in late 2011, to reopen the excavations in some sites of inestimable historical value, in order to "continue to enhance their cultural heritage", had finally turned hope into certainty. Under the auspices of the United Nations, and numerous authorisations previously signed and confirmed by countless “authorities”, several research groups, selected and supervised by appropriate commission staff, would be able to work for a limited time in the most significant areas of archaeological interest on Iraqi territory.

“My dear colonel,” she began, leaning as close as possible to the webcam, so that her large emerald green eyes would get the results she was hoping for. “You are absolutely right.”

She knew that giving face to her caller would put him in a more positive frame of mind.

“But we're so close now.”

“Close to what?” thundered the colonel, sitting up in his seat and placing his fists on the desk. “You've been repeating the same old story for weeks. I can’t support you any longer unless you come up with something concrete.”

“If you’ll do me the honour of joining me for dinner tonight, I should be delighted to show you something that will make you think again. What do you say?”

A beautiful smile revealed her white teeth, and she ran her hand through her long blond hair. She was certain that she could convince him.

The colonel frowned, trying to maintain an angry appearance, but even he knew that he would not be able to resist this offer. He had always liked Elisa and the idea of a dinner for two intrigued him.

Despite his forty-eight years, he was still an attractive man. With an athletic body, angular features, closely cropped, greying hair, a sharp, decisive look in his intense blue eyes, a broad general knowledge that enabled him to converse widely on a variety of topics, and the indisputable charm of the uniformed officer, he was still an ‘interesting’ man.

“Okay,” snorted the colonel. “But this evening you’ll have to bring me something sensational, otherwise you’d better start getting all your junk together and packing your bags.” He was trying to use the most authoritative tone he had, but he wasn’t doing too well.

“Be ready by eight. I’ll send a car to pick you up at your hotel.” He cut off the communication without saying goodbye.

Hell, I have to hurry. I only have a few hours before it gets dark.

“Hisham,” she called, peering out from the tent. “Call the whole team together. I’m going to need all the help I can get.”

She hurried across the few metres that separated her from the excavation area, leaving a series of dust clouds behind her. Within a few minutes everyone was gathered around her waiting for instructions.

“You, please remove the sand from that corner,” she ordered, pointing to the side of the stone furthest away. “And you help him. I suggest you take care. If it’s what I think it is, this thing might well save our asses.”

Theos spacecraft – Orbiting Jupiter

The small, but very comfortable, spherical, internal transfer module was travelling, at an average speed of around 10 m/s, along conduit three, which would lead Azakis to the entrance of the compartment where his companion, Petri, was waiting for him.

The Theos, which also had a spherical shape and a diameter of ninety-six metres, had eighteen tubular ducts, each being a little more than three hundred metres in length. These had been constructed as meridians spaced ten degrees apart, so that they covered the entire circumference. Each of the twenty-three levels was four metres high, with the exception of the central hold (eleventh level), which measured twice as much. They were easily accessible by means of the stops that each conduit made at every floor. Effectively, moving between the two most widely separated points on the ship would take fifteen seconds at the most.

The braking of the module was barely perceptible. The door opened with a slight hiss, and there stood Petri, his legs apart and his arms folded.

“I've been waiting or hours,” he said in an unconvincing tone. “Have you finished clogging up the air filters with that stinking crap you always carry around?” The allusion to the cigar was only slightly veiled.

Ignoring this provocative remark with a smirk, Azakis pulled the portable analyser from his belt and activated it with a flick of the thumb.

“Hold this. We need to hurry,” he replied, passing it to Petri with one hand while trying to position the sensor inside the coupling on his right with the other. “Our ETA is about 58 hours and I’m getting worried.”

“Why?” asked Petri, a little surprised.

“I don’t know. I have a feeling that something is wrong.”

The device that Petri was holding began to send out a series of sounds with varying frequencies. He examined the object, with no idea what this meant. Looking up at his friend's face, he searched for some sign of an explanation, but found none. Azakis, moving cautiously, placed the sensor into the other coupling. Another series of indecipherable sounds came from the analyser. Then silence. Azakis took the device from his companion, looked closely at the results, then smiled.

“Everything's fine. We can proceed.”

Only then did Petri notice that he had stopped breathing for a while. He sighed deeply and felt an immediate sense of relaxation. However minor, a fault in the couplings would have compromised their mission irretrievably, forcing them to turn around and go back. It was the last thing they needed. They were almost there.

“I’m going to get cleaned up,” said Petri, trying to shake off a little dust. “A visit to a conduit is always like this...” and twisting his upper lip, he added “an education!”

Azakis smiled. “I’ll see you on the bridge.”

Azakis smiled. “I’ll see you on the bridge.”

Petri called the capsule, and a moment later he was gone.

The central system announced that they had passed safely out of their orbit around Jupiter and were heading smoothly towards Earth. With a slight but rapid eye movement to the right, Azakis once again requested that his O^COM show him the route. The blue dot moving along the red line was now positioned a little further towards the Martian orbit. The count-down showed that their ETA was precisely 58 hours, and that the ship’s speed was 3,000 km/s. He was growing increasingly nervous. On the other hand, the spacecraft in which they were travelling was the first to be equipped with the new Bousen engines, whose concept was completely different from anything previously used. The designers claimed that these would be able to propel the ship at velocities close to a tenth of the speed of light. He had never dared to try this. For now, 3,000 km/s seemed more than enough for a maiden voyage.

Of the fifty-six crew members who would normally have been accommodated on board the Theos, only eight had been chosen for this first mission, including Petri and Azakis. The reasons given by the Elders were not clear. They speculated that this had been due to the nature and destination of the trip. There would be obvious difficulties and it would be better not to put too many lives at risk.

So we're expendable? What kind of talk is that? It would always end up like this. When it came to risking someone’s neck who would they put forward? Azakis and Petri.

In the end, however, their propensity for adventure, and their remarkable ability to find answers in ‘challenging’ situations, had enabled them to obtain a few concessions.

Azakis lived in an enormous building in the beautiful city of Saaran in the south of the continent, which had formerly been used as a warehouse for local Craftsmen. Because of these “concessions”, he had managed to get permission to modify it to his own taste.

The south wall had been completely replaced with a forcefield like the one used on the spacecraft, so that he could admire the wonderful view of the gulf below from his inseparable, self-moulding armchair. If necessary, however, the whole wall could change into a gigantic three-dimensional system, on which one could see as many as twelve GCS transmissions simultaneously. More than once, this sophisticated supervision and management system had enabled him to gather crucial information in advance, meaning that he could neatly resolve even the more far-reaching crises. He would not have given it up.

One entire wing of the ex-warehouse was reserved for his collection of souvenirs from various space missions over the years. Each one of them reminded him of something specific, and every time he found himself among this strange jumble of objects, he could not help being thankful for his good fortune, and especially for his faithful friend, who had saved his skin on more than one occasion.

Petri, who had also been academically outstanding, was no fan of push technology. Although able to pilot almost any kind of aircraft, and although familiar with almost every kind of weapon or local and interplanetary communications system, he preferred to rely on his instincts and manual skills to resolve the problems that presented themselves. There had been a number of times when he had quickly transformed a shapeless heap of scrap metal into a means of transport or a fearsome weapon of defence. It was remarkable. He could make almost anything he needed to. This was partly something he had inherited from his father, an ingenious Craftsman, but it was mainly due to a passion for Art. As a boy, in fact, he had always been in awe of the way that the Craftsmen were able to transform helpless matter into items of great utility and technology, whilst also creating objects of "beauty".

A loud, unpleasant and intermittent sound jolted him back to reality. The automatic proximity alert had been activated.

Nassiriyya – The hotel

It certainly wasn’t a five star hotel, but for someone who had spent weeks in a tent in the desert, even a shower could be considered a luxury. Elisa let the cold, refreshing water massage her neck and shoulders. Her body welcomed the chill, and a series of not unpleasant shivers ran down her back.

One realises how important some things are when one no longer has them.

It was more than ten minutes before she decided to get out. The vapour had steamed up the mirror, which had clearly been hung incorrectly. She tried to rectify this, but as soon as she let go it returned to its crooked position. In the end she ignored it. Wiping away the water that had settled on her with a strip of towel, she looked at herself admiringly. When she had been few years younger she had often been offered work as a model or actress. Maybe she could have been a cinema diva or a footballer’s wife, but money had never interested her much. She preferred to sweat, eat dust, study ancient scripts and visit forgotten places. For her, adventure meant the blood and emotion involved in finding an ancient artefact, unearthing some vestige from thousands of years before. Nothing else compared with this.

She drew closer to the mirror, looking at the small, accursed lines at the corners of her eyes. Her hand moved automatically to her make-up bag, from which she pulled her anti-ageing cream. “Visibly fewer wrinkles in less than one week”. She spread it carefully over her face and gazed at herself attentively. Were they claiming to perform miracles? It did say the effects would only be visible after seven days, however.

She smiled at herself, and at all the other women who passively allowed themselves to be duped by such advertising.

The clock on the wall above the bed was showing 7.40 pm. She would never be able to get ready in just twenty minutes.

She dried herself hurriedly, leaving her long, blond hair slightly wet, and stood in front of the dark wooden wardrobe, in which the few smart clothes she had managed to bring were hanging. At other times she would have taken hours to decide which outfit best suited the occasion. That evening, however, the choice was limited. Without thinking too much, she opted for a short, black dress. It was pretty, definitely sexy, but not vulgar. It had a flattering neckline that would certainly emphasise her voluptuous figure. Taking it out, she threw it onto the bed with an elegant sweep of the hand.

7.50 pm. It may have been a lady’s privilege, but she hated being late.

Looking out of the window, she saw a dark, glossy SUV right outside the hotel door. A youth dressed in military clothing, who must have been the driver, was leaning against the bonnet, and making the most of his wait by calmly smoking a cigarette.

She did her best to enhance her eyes with pencil and mascara, quickly painted some gloss on her lips. Whilst trying to spread it evenly by throwing kisses into the air, she put on her favourite earrings, struggling somewhat to find the holes again.

It was actually some time since she’d gone out for an evening. Her work took her around the world and she had never found a stable relationship with anyone. Her relationships were usually over within a few months. She had always ignored the innate maternal instinct she had felt from being a girl, but now, with the approach of biological maturity, she was becoming increasingly aware of this. Perhaps this was the time to think seriously about being part of a family.

She quickly banished the thought from her mind. She slipped on the dress, stepped into the only pair of high-heeled shoes she’d brought with her, and sprayed her best perfume onto each side of her neck with a generous movement. Silk scarf and spacious black handbag. She was ready to go. One last check in the stained mirror on the wall near the door assured her that her make-up was flawless. After a quick twirl she left the room with a satisfied expression.