Enigma Ship by J. York (small books to read .TXT) 📕

“Make it twenty,” said Gold.

*     *     *

Duffy looked down at the surf sloshing around the boots of his space suit. “I am definitely overdressed, for this beach.”

He, Gomez, and P8 Blue were standing on a sandy coastline under a sunny, pink sky. Pattie—smaller, lower, and generally more vulnerable to the waves—scuttled up the sandy slope away from the water. Thirty meters beyond, a cliff made of dark, volcanic rock reared up into the sky.

Gomez looked at him. “Any idea how we got here?”

“Felt like a transporter to me.”

“Where,” asked Pattie, “do you think we are?”

“Still inside Enigma, I’d say.” Duffy took out the magnetic probe and looked around for something to test it on. He could have simply tried it on the sand, but the environmental suit made it difficult to bend that far.

Ten meters to his right, a black outcropping of rock the size of a shuttlecraft rose up out of the sand. He trudged over, activated the probe, and shoved it against the outcropping.

To his surprise, the probe didn’t penetrate, but neither was the surface entirely solid. Instead, it gave slightly, like wet leather.

There was a rumble, almost subsonic, so deep and loud Duffy felt it in his ribcage as much as he heard it. “Ouch,” said the universal translator, in the very generic voice it reserved for the most extremely alien of languages.

A few meters to his left, a flipper the size of a man lifted out of the sand, traversed a five meter arc, and dug into the sand. With a grunt, the “outcropping” laboriously pulled itself a few meters farther up the beach.

Duffy staggered back, then turned and ran from the behemoth. He managed ten meters or so in the clumsy environmental suit before looking back.

The thing wasn’t chasing him. It labored to move on land, and he could have kept ahead of it at a slow stroll. “Did that turtle just talk?”

“Do not mock me, small visitor,” said the behemoth. “No turtle am I. Rogendera Godo-click, I am, far-traveler, brave adventurer, home from the stars after many seasons’ travels. Home to lay her eggs in familiar sand, and tell her children tales of distant worlds. Home to stay am I.”

Gomez stepped closer. “You’re a space traveler?”

“I was, as you must be. Strange is your form and speech. Never your like have I seen before, not in all the travels, mine.”

“We’re space travelers,” said Duffy, “but we’re a little lost.” He considered a moment. Whatever this thing was, it was real, and it didn’t seem to know it was on a ship. “In your travels, did you at some time collide with some unseen object?”

“This happened, on the four-hundred-and-sixth day of the twentieth season of our voyage through the black ocean. We were trapped for a time, but we escaped and after many adventures on the black ocean, returned here, to these fine sands.”

“Kieran,” said Gomez, “maybe we shouldn’t talk about this with the ‘locals’ till we know more.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right.”

“Friends,” said Pattie, “we are not alone.”

They turned to see a bright ball of light emerge from the cliff face. As it approached, it dimmed and changed form, into something more humanoid this time.

The being was shorter than Duffy, with caramel-colored skin, its head owl-like and topped with short brown feathers. The eyes were yellow, which surprised Duffy not at all. “This isn’t your story,” said the owl. “You must not interfere.”

Duffy turned to the behemoth. “Nice meeting you, but I think we’ll be go—”

*     *     *

“—ing.” Duffy staggered as the gravity changed.

Clouds of dust blew past him, kicked up by elephant-sized beasts that marched single file through the marketplace, cargo carried in slings tied between the tail of one animal and a blunt horn on the nose of the next.

One of the beasts contemplated him with a blue eye the size of his fist, a gaze suggesting intelligence, if not sentience. Then it snorted and moved on.

The plaza was crowded with thousands of people representing dozens of races, none familiar to Duffy. Open-air stalls sold goods of all kinds: food, artwork, and items of unfamiliar, yet obviously advanced, technology.

The first impression had been of a primitive market, but Duffy realized this might be an illusion. The primitive aspects might be recreational, or perhaps ceremonial.

Certainly, everyone seemed to be having a good time. He had the impression of a vast party, or a fair.

He, Gomez, and Pattie stood close together, earning no more than the occasional curious glance in the sea of races. This was obviously a place used to unfamiliar visitors.

“I believe,” said Pattie, “we have been sent somewhere where we can do the least harm.”

Duffy nodded. “That light entity was real, and he was clearly upset we were interfering with the alien’s ‘story.’”

Gomez looked around. “I wonder how much of this is real? Not much, I’d wager.”

“I agree,” said Duffy. “This was created for someone else’s benefit, and it could be only a few of the thousands of beings here. Maybe only one of them.”

Gomez pointed towards a largely empty seating area. In the middle was a large platform with an elaborate machine on it, constructed of brass and glass pipes. It might have been a sculpture, or a musical instrument on a stage, it was hard to tell.

“Since we aren’t likely to find anyone real to talk to, I suggest we sit down and assess our situation.”

There were benches and perchlike rails, in a variety of sizes. Duffy found one that looked right and sat down, Gomez taking the seat next to him.

Duffy reflected on their situation, and nodded his head in amazement. “The Lincoln can’t be the first ship to get trapped inside Enigma. There must have been dozens, hundreds maybe, and nobody escapes because they think they already have. They continue their voyages, go home, even die of old age, never realizing that they’re living in a holo-simulation.”

“Agreed,” said Pattie. “This obviously has