The Eye With Which The Universe Beholds Itself (Apollo Quartet) by Ian Sales

cheeks and he slides one foot forward and then the other. He closes his eyes and he can see Judy. She’s standing in front of the French windows and she glows with light like an angel. It’s the photograph he has back in the MM, it’s there in front of him, just out of reach. No, she is just out of reach, and she’s beckoning him to her. He roars through the pain, he can’t lift his arms to embrace her, but he stumbles on, drawn toward the presence of her, the light of her…
     
    1999
    Elliott is in the cupola when the Robert H Goddard arrives at Gliese 876. The pearly shell which encloses the asteroid abruptly vanishes and the universe rushes in, a sudden blackness which leaves spots before his eyes. Then a river of stars spreads across the sky in an eyeblink as if thrown by some Jackson Pollock of the heavens.
    Gliese 876 is a dim red furnace about two million miles distant. The Goddard rotates, and Gliese 876 d, Earth Two—Hell—rolls into view. It’s a huge world, three times the size of Earth, and it just plain looks hot. Beneath the crimson light of its sun, the land resembles a planet-spanning brushfire, the edges of hills and valleys limned in blood-red. He’s seen the PBS specials, but the one thing those shows can’t capture is the world’s sheer presence. There is nothing like it in the Solar System—it’s as barren as the Moon, but it has air and clouds and a climate. And that red light…
    Up near the north pole, where Phaeton Base is located, they say it’s like a hot day in north Africa. Elliott is not convinced. Surface gravity is 1.5G—that and the red light is not going to feel like Africa to him. He’s been told he’ll get used to it.
    He somersaults and dives down from the cupola. Another somersault as he approaches the deck, and he hits it with both feet and locks the triangular cleats on his shoes into the gridwork.
    Finley is standing behind the pilot and flight engineer, one hand on the back of the pilot’s chair. His other hand he has up to one of the earpieces in his communications cap and he is talking slowly and clearly into his microphone, saying, Phaeton Base, this is the Robert H Goddard, please respond.
    Elliott glances across at Stewart at the navigator’s station. No response? he asks.
    We can’t even find the damn base on the remote telescope, Stewart replies. He grimaces. Can’t get the radio beacon either, he adds.
    This is what Elliott was sent here to investigate. And it looks like Phaeton Base really has vanished. But if it has disappeared, where has it gone? And what caused the disappearance?
    Later they gather round the galley table in the rec area. A pilot and flight engineer remain on duty in the command centre, but everyone else is here. It’s crowded. The table can only comfortably fit six, so the other six are scattered about the area at different heights and in different orientations. Elliott is at the table, shoes firmly cleated to the deck. He’s sort of in charge.
    The base is not responding, Finley says, not on S-Band or VHF.
    From four hundred miles up, the base should be visible. They keep it brightly-lit at all times—the dim red sunlight badly affects morale. There is also an extensive greenhouse, and that splash of green would certainly stand out against the relentless red of Earth Two’s surface.
    I don’t get it, says one of the systems engineers, McKay.
    You think maybe it’s aliens? asks Stewart. He looks pointedly at Elliott, and adds, That’s why they sent you, right? You’ve been to Area 51, you’ve seen aliens there. Right?
    There are no aliens and no UFOs at Area 51, Elliott responds. He holds up a hand, and continues, But that doesn’t mean we can’t rule out an extraterrestrial cause here. We’re fifteen light years from Earth, after all.
    That last fact means they’re on their own. There’s no way of communicating with Earth. A radio message would take fifteen years to reach home, assuming they had equipment powerful