The Star of Polaris: Chapter 1

         The night was a clear one, with not a cloud in the sky to block out the stars. Despite the city nearby, the light of all those skyscrapers didn’t reach far enough to blind the surrounding mountains to the majesty of space and its final frontier. Those who wished to stargaze would often journey up the lower ones, if only because the tallest peak was safeguarded by a village which had called it home for almost a century.

         The mountains themselves weren’t anything peculiar, giant rocky outcroppings borne from the results of tectonic plates mashing against one another. Entirely ordinary, yet enchanting to gaze upon as the morning sun glistened off their cliffs. At their bases rested a grand forest, which grew outward to surround the city, creating an idyllic little grove for all who lived there.

         The tallest mountain, however, named Mons Stellae for its supposed connection to the heavens above, had not remained untouched by the very heaven it reached for. Many of the older generation spoke of a meteorite which had fallen to the planet, throwing up a cloud of dust and dirt from its impact upon the peak. Countless astronomers had tried their hand at scaling the peak, only to be turned gently away by the folks of the village. They preferred no outsiders.

         William, however, was no outsider, and he hadn’t been since starting middle school. Though his parents had perished, leaving only a decade-older sister to care for him, he had always been adventurous, preferring the great outdoors and all its dangerous splendor over the sameness of the city. As such, he had come to find the village in his travels through the woods, and had come to meet a young girl his age. From that moment forth, William was seen by the people of the village not as an outsider, but as another child needing to be taken care of.

         When William had worked his way through high school, applying himself to earn a scholarship to his university of choice, he’d chosen to pursue astronomy. It had been his and his parents’ favorite pastime, and his love for the stars was greater than any other. So it came to pass that, in an attempt to study the unstudied, he approached the mayor of the village with an entreaty. A journey up the mountain with a guide, to see what exactly lay untouched for decades.

         That was how William found himself near the peak, hours later, sweating despite the chill of midnight, led by the only other man who had dared to near the peak since impact.

         The man was an older African man, rugged body familiar with the terrain and how best to navigate it. William, on the other hand, was a scrawny young man of European descent, with only the faintest hints of Asian blood carried from his mother’s half of the family. He had inherited his father’s shaggy black hair, yet his eyes shone the same amber that his mother’s once had. With William’s lack of experience, he found himself struggling to remain caught up, and several times had to shamefully accept help from the older man.

         However, a half-mile from the peak, with the remaining journey a long stretch of back-and-forth turns, the man stopped in his tracks. “I will go no further,” he said to William. “The peak is sacred to our village. You have been granted permission to view it by the mayor, but only this once. Good luck on the return journey.”

         William remained silent for a moment, huffing and puffing to catch his breath, but nodded in agreement. He had already asked far too much of the village to even politely request the man stay.

         “Here. Supplies, if you wish to camp out before returning.”

         The man handed over a bag which he’d packed with a sleeping bag and tent, as well as some packaged meats and cheeses. William took it and slung it over a shoulder, and with one last nod, thanked the man and wished him farewell on the journey downward.

         Only once he was out of view, and once William had decided he’d rested enough, did he start for the peak. Secretly, he was thankful for the easy final stretch, after the precarious climbing he’d had to do beforehand. There were no uneven paths, no exposed rocks for him to trip over, no wild animals daring to dart at him from the underbrush. In fact, as he rose further up the path, he found there didn’t seem to be much sound at all, the night eerily lacking the music of insects and the rustling of plants. There were no winds blowing across the mountain, no distant yips or growls from whatever may have lived near the peak, nothing except William’s unsteady breathing.

         He stopped halfway up the final stretch, rubbing his hands together and wishing he’d taken along a jacket. The night had swiftly grown cold, the chill only worsened by the altitude, though rather graciously, the mountain wasn’t tall enough for the lack of oxygen to be a concern.

         Once he was certain he was warm enough to finish the journey, William set off once more. With each step that carried him closer to the truth, he felt this sensation welling up inside of him, unsure if it was a sense of excitement, or fear. It made his pulse race, his breathing quicken. The slightest of smiles formed on his face as he began to imagine what he would find. It wasn’t often meteorites were studied so late after their crash landings.

         However, whatever he may have imagined, nothing could have prepared him for the truth. There, nestled deep within a crater, was … something. It was clearly an artificial creation, and not at all the meteorite William had been expecting to find.

         “What am I looking at?”

         The entire thing had come to be buried halfway into the ground, dented from the impact, and rusted from the decades it had spent exposed to nature. Nearest to William, there was a spire, tapering with a curve to it, as opposed to a sharp downturn. Although it was massive. From the base of the spire to its top, William estimated it reached a hundred feet, and perhaps a third of that in width at the base. Beneath that, jutting from the ground, was a massive half-circle. Most of that half-circle was dirt with a border of steel, overgrown with plant life that had taken hold since the structure’s descent. Yet, William could make out the dead, scorched trees which vines and bushes clung to for support.

         William stood there in awe for several minutes before his mind finally kicked back into crater. He was standing at the edge of the crater, with a single step being the only difference between him remaining on firm ground, and him sliding downward to join the structure.

         After a brief second of hesitation, William made his decision, and stepped over the edge. He’d thought the structure was massive from the lip of the crater, yet as he got closer, it absolutely loomed over him, filling his mind with a rush of intense anxiety. His body seemed to scream at him not to go, every rational thought telling him it was a one-way trip, yet as he neared the bottom of the crater, only one thing mattered: satisfying his curiosity.

         He stood there, taking in the full breadth of its size. It stuck from the ground at nearly a forty-five-degree angle. Not enough to be called unclimbable, yet certainly enough to be a challenge for William.

         Once he’d calmed his fears, he circled the base of the structure, taking in every detail he could, memorizing them for his sketches later. As he neared the underside of the ring, it became obvious it wasn’t just a crash. The whole event had gouged out a crevice from the earth, the scar reclaimed by nature after who knew how long. William knelt and touched a hand to the grass, finding it cool in the night air, if slightly dewy.

         He continued his circle, pulling a flashlight from the bag. Its beam pierced the darkness with ease, shining against the structure and revealing what lay beneath the ring.

         A giant metal tube, or perhaps the exterior of a massive tower, extended into the ground. On the outside of it, etched into the material, was what could only be a star map, or perhaps a map of the galaxy, yet it didn’t match any layouts he knew of. At the center of it were two large circles, a foot across, with curving lines connecting them in a larger circle. Beyond them, contained within five concentric rings, were smaller dots, each extending in a straight line to the side.

         William drew closer to the etchings, running a hand along them, and only up close discovering a line of tiny symbols beneath each. They weren’t numbers, and certainly weren’t English letters, yet also didn’t seem to match any of the Asian languages he’d tried and failed to learn. The furthest ring from the center, which encompassed the whole set of etchings, had a similar set of symbols following the left side of the curve, with a dashed line leading away.

         William followed the line until it reached another smaller set of etchings. This one had only one central dot, with thirteen smaller ones spread out beside it. He admired the level of detail as he observed them, only after a while making the assumption that these etchings corresponded to the solar system in which he lived. The tipping point had been the presence of rings around four of the further circles. Which meant, at least to William’s mind, the other set of circles had been another system entirely.

         Though, of course, whether the design had been human built, with the help of some intelligent life, or perhaps a gift from one race to another, William wasn’t certain. All he knew was that this confirmed life beyond his planet. It was terrifying for him to accept.

He stepped away, returning to the topside of the ring. In an effort to clear his mind, he stared at the plants. There was wild grass, moss, ivy … no doubt, it had once been a beautiful area of repose, now reduced to a mere shadow of its former self. It was disheartening, and William felt a somber mood fill his mind.

         Though the discovery was astounding, and would get him published in newspapers all around the world, there was no more excitement, not when he considered the air of sorrow which now lingered about the structure.

         Nevertheless, as his gaze trailed over the structure, he noticed a doorway nestled beneath the base of the spire, halfway up the ring. The door appeared to be jammed halfway open, no doubt a result of the crash.

         William took a deep breath to prepare himself, then began the steep climb up the ring, using the plants and dead trees as grips. On more than occasion, as he made the trek, a dried, scorched branch would give way, and he’d slip before catching his hand upon a sturdy vine or another nearby branch. It was a harrowing, yet his desire to know if there were any remains he would need to bury properly outweighed any sense of personal safety.

         His hand found purchase upon the sturdy glass doors, surprisingly undamaged despite what had happened with the rest of the structure, and he eased himself into the chamber beyond. There wasn’t much to look at, the interior of the spire housing only a spiral staircase that led in both directions. However, the floor had scattered papers and books, as well as shattered dishware, utensils, even burnt clothing. Curious, William picked up a book. Time had not been kind to it, and with the fire damage dealt to its pages, it was hard to make out what lay beyond its cover, though one thing was for certain: it had been written in English.

         William stashed the book in his bag before he journeyed downward into the structure, one hand on the railing of the stairs and the other focusing the flashlight before him. The stairs were difficult to manage, thanks to the slope of the entire structure, and more than once he felt like he’d twist his ankle. Yet he pressed ever onward, driven only by his own curiosity.

         The next floor down, William found what had to be a library, though it was in horrible shape due to the crash. Books had been thrown everywhere, or lay in piles of ash, while the shelves themselves, once carved from a beautiful species of wood, had been seared black and coated with ash. Amid the wreckage, more clothes and dishware, as well as broken tables and chairs.

         William remained on this level long enough to get a sense of what had once been, before moving to the next. The next floor down, there was what appeared to be a tiled dining room, with cracked porcelain lining the walls and floor. There were open cabinets upon one side, surrounded by several stoves, ovens, and similar such cooking appliances, and ruined picnic tables piled against the other wall.

         William continued further downward, entering upon a small central chamber, from which a handful of hallways spread off. Down each hallway, there were four doors, and through those which remained open, he could make out the fuzzy shapes of beds and sheets, or upturned dressers spilling their contents onto the floor. From the looks of things, the structure had once held a rather large team of individuals, though for what reason, William wasn’t yet sure.

         At the bottom of the staircase, William found himself in a central chamber, walls made of steel and warning signs plastered everywhere he looked. Though each of the posters had been singed almost entirely, he could make out writing in both English and several other languages from Europe and Asia, and pieced together that, whatever chamber he would soon further descend into, there was some chance of radiation exposure.

         William followed the path of the warning signs to two curving staircases which sat against the wall, and led into the floor. He stared at the steps with an innate sense of fear, yet after a moment of internally wrestling with said fear, he decided against giving into it.

         He kept one hand upon the wall as he ventured toward the staircase, images of every possible horrible outcome flashing through his mind. Would he perish here to some unthinkable horror, never to return to his home and older sister? Or would he stumble upon some great secret that would catapult him to the peak of fame?

         Instead of any of that, he found a wide circular chamber, with a cylindrical glass container standing in the center. The glass was undamaged, though the same couldn’t be said for its surroundings. Within the glass rested a sphere the size of William’s torso, slowly spinning around its own axis, with no external structures to support it. Its surface seemed unstable, as if comprised of swirling gas clouds, the entire thing a deep brown color with lighter stripes scattered about its surface. He could feel great heat emanating from the container as well, though the room was lit only by his flashlight.

         “What is that?” he asked aloud. Though he was eager to discover the truth of the odd sphere, he pushed it from his mind long enough to observe his surroundings, searching for anything which might help should the sphere prove dangerous. He found nothing except an emergency latch, which after some struggle, popped free a cabinet from the wall.

         Within the cabinet rested two objects, both unharmed by the chaos around them. One was a sheet of paper, on which were instructions written in dozens of human languages. The other object was a canister, thin enough to fit comfortably in his hand and as long as his forearm, with a needle-like spout on one end. What was within the canister was unlabeled, however.

         With the canister in hand, he scanned over the instructions. “In the case of reactor failure, pull the latch at the base of the containment unit to unseal the reactor.” William glanced at the glass tube within the center of the room and its accompanying sphere, before reading on. “Once the reactor core is exposed, insert the spout of the fuel canister into its full depth and hold for thirty seconds to achieve stellification.”

         William took pause at the mention of stellification. He knew of it, it being a theoretical process through which small sub-fusion planetary objects could ignite and turn into stars. But surely the instructions weren’t suggesting the reactor was a star, for that was preposterous. For one, it was far too small and dim to be a star, and for another reason, there was no technology possible which he was certain could contain such an object without breaking apart, or without the star collapsing in on itself.

         Still, he was inclined to believe the instructions, and so with the canister gripped firmly, he started for the central unit. The latch which he needed to pull was thankfully labeled “Emergency” in big red letters, and itself was a vibrant red. A quick tug lifted the glass out of the way, letting him see the sphere within without any filtering. Its color remained the same as before, though the heat it put out was much more intense, and William soon found himself sweating through his shirt.

         Desiring to get the glass back down and the heat contained, William did as the instructions had told, inserted the spout of the canister as deep as it would go, and held there, counting out the seconds. As time ticked by, he noticed the heat gradually climbing, and the color of the sphere began to brighten, until finally, the voice of a woman spoke up from somewhere.

“Stellification in t-minus ten. All crew back away from the containment unit.”

         William did as he was told, and nearly fell in his rush to return to the wall, yet he turned around at just the right moment to witness something truly wondrous. Soundlessly, the glass slid shut over the sphere and tinted, mere seconds before the sphere ignited, burning a subdued red.

         “Reactor core fueled. Reactor online. Stage one of reaction in progress. Cooling systems online. Life support systems online. Computer systems online. Spatial maneuvering systems online.”

         The floor shook and rattled dangerously, spreading through the entire structure as lights slowly rose to life all around William. Then, with no warning, the floor lurched upward, and William found himself tossed to the stairs, grasping the railing for dear life as the structure straightened out.

         “Life support systems viable only within reactor chamber and crew quarters. Crew onboard: one. Instating crew member as captain. Captain, state your orders.”

         Though the rattling had stopped long before, William still held onto the railing, unsure if it would pick back up where it had left off. “C-captain? No, I’m not a captain. I’m just a university student.”

         “As the only crew member remaining onboard, you have been designated as the captain of the vessel. Now, please state your orders.”

         “F-fine. But tell me what this place is, first.” William couldn’t help the trembling in his voice. For all he knew, he was trapped on an alien vessel, talking to an alien computer, waiting for something to happen.

         “You are currently onboard the vessel Polaris, a research station designed to observe the universe. It once held a crew of thirty-two, though it appears they have abandoned the vessel. I’m not certain where they’ve gone, my sensors appear not to have been working for quite some time.”

         William, eager for more answers despite his fear, carried on the conversation. “What happened here? Why was this place damaged?”

         “I am uncertain. My records appear to be corrupted due to physical damage. Certain racks of the server appear to be unreachable by any methods available.”

         “Right.” William nodded his head twice in understanding. Though, of course, that understanding was shallow. Though he was an intelligent individual, he knew little about servers and how they operated. “Do you have a name?”

         “My name is Anna. It stands for Artificial Neural Network Awareness. I manage the onboard computer systems and help the crew with whatever they request. Now, might I ask again for a command?”

         William grumbled, but hauled himself to his feet. “Fine. What kind of command do you want?”

         “Currently, we are hovering two-thousand feet above the planet’s surface, above the peak of a mountain. As this vessel was designed for operation beyond the atmosphere of the planet, I recommend we relocate it there as soon as possible.”

         “Then do that,” William said, with more than a hint of frustration within his voice.

         “Unfortunately, the life support systems and artificial gravity systems are offline. Ascending beyond the atmosphere will lead to unfavorable results.”

         William sat upon the stairs and buried his face in his hands. When he had requested a journey up to the peak of the mountain, he had expected to find nothing more than a lonely space rock overgrown by wild grass. The discovery of a functioning space station had never even crossed his mind, nor had anything else which had happened in such a brief span of time.

         “All right,” he said after taking several deep breaths through his fingers. “Can you show me what the outside looks like?”

         “Unfortunately, until stage two of the reaction is in progress, the power available for computer systems is limited. The best I can do is recommend a journey to the garden.”

         William took in one final deep breath, then rose and began the long journey up the stairs. As he went, he gazed upon the other floors now that the structure had straightened out. They were as messy as before, though thankfully the messes were all piled upon the floor, rather than against the wall.

         Once back upon the main floor, William headed for the glass doors. They had closed, most likely upon the reactivation of the ship, and as William approached, the seamless glass panes split in three, spiraling away into the walls. He marveled at the intricacy, then stepped into the garden, as Anna had called it in a confirmation of William’s initial assumptions. Though there wasn’t much to see in the garden itself, the ship had indeed gone airborne, the mountain no longer visible around the outer ring. There was a path around the central tower which lit up with small path lights, as well as one which led to the edge of the ring, similarly illuminated.

         William followed the path to the edge, wrapping his arms around himself to keep out the chill of the night once more. There, he found himself staring out upon the world below, marveling at the lights of the city in the distance, or the landscape stretching out in all directions. Whatever anger or frustration he may have once held toward Anna, he felt melting away. He felt as if he could stand there forever, watching the days pass by.

         “How do we achieve stage two reaction?” he asked after what felt to him like hours.

         “Stage two reaction will occur within approximately seventeen days. At that point, I will be able to expand the life support systems to encompass the entire vessel.”

         William thought on the response, coming up with a plan which would serve to keep the vessel hidden from view, without losing it forever. “Is there any way to remain in contact with you if I leave?”

         “I have detected a communication device on your person, and have taken the liberty of connecting it to my systems.”

         “My phone?” William asked.

         “Yes. If you wish to return to the surface for some time, I can withdraw the vessel to a stationary orbit above the planet, away from interference. Is that what you wish?”

         “Yes.” William turned back to the central spire, though he knew there was no one there to speak with. “I … need to do some planning about fixing this place up. I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”

         “Of course, Captain. I eagerly await your decisions.”

         “Okay. Send me down?”

         From the edge of the garden emerged a circular platform, suspended by nothing, and hovering in the air with no visible source of propulsion. William stepped on it nervously, though was glad to discover it didn’t sink beneath his weight. “I’ll be back soon. I promise.”