Helium 3: Fight for the Future

by Brandon Q. Morris

  A few micropulses later, several Mendraki had gathered in front of the door to the alien’s room. Before them were the vibration transducer, the cart with the paste and water, and another cart with some simple objects on it. Along with a small metal ball and a simple wooden block, Tolkut saw a piece of cloth, a bolt with a nut, a sheet of paper, a pen, an empty plastic container, and several other utensils for the alien to name. None of them looked like they could be used as a weapon.

  Two Mendraki drew their ray guns, and Tolkut opened the bulkhead door to the room.

  The alien was still sitting on the folded space suit and looked up at the opening door in surprise.

  Tolkut led, pushing the cart with the food into the room, and the technician followed with the vibration transducer. The two armed officers kept their weapons pointed at the alien menacingly, and the meaning of this was clearly understood. He didn’t budge. He just watched what was going on with interest. One of the assistant weavers brought the cart with the objects into the makeshift cell, then withdrew.

  Before Tolkut closed the door to the bulkhead, he executed clearly-accentuated steps of welcome, but the alien didn’t respond. From up close, Tolkut could confirm his suspicions that the alien’s two legs were not suitable for complicated dance steps.

  Now all they could do was wait and see what happened.

  53rd of Frien, 298

  He was alone. It had taken Norok a long time to check the entire ship. Three crew members were missing, including Kimi. In all probability, they’d been thrown out of the enormous hole in the cockpit. He’d found the others’ bodies one by one. Every time he had hoped against hope that he’d register signs of life. Grisok, the Keeper, had been sitting in his tiny cabin with his eyes open, and it looked as if he were studying something important. And then Norok had seen the bullets in his suit.

  He’d had to put Lashok out of his misery. A sudden movement of the ship had driven the magnetic cannon into Lashok’s thoracic cavity. At first, Norok had just seen the gun, which someone had previously removed from the storage room to prepare it for use. The cannon had partially covered Lashok’s body, and Norok didn’t find him until it was too late. Lashok was breathing hard and, lacking all sense of orientation, was twitching. His magnetic sense must have been damaged, and he didn’t stand a chance. His eyes welling up with tears, Norok drew his handgun and sent him off to the ancestral cloud.

  Out of all of them, why had he been the one to survive? He didn’t deserve it. It was because of him that the attackers had found the ship in the first place. Admittedly, Kimi’s theory had been hard to digest, but he should at least have considered the possibility that there was a kernel of truth to it. He had failed. He was certainly no ordinary Iks, and as Supreme Explorer bore the responsibility for all this.

  But it was all over now. There were no more Explorers—the aliens had wiped out the entire faction. There were still three Iks who were on their way to becoming Explorers on the generation ship, but there wasn’t anyone who could teach them everything they needed to know. The Explorers were practically extinct. For many generations they’d had a say in the fate of the Iks, for better and for worse. Perhaps Bulukaminok, who had founded the group ages ago, would return from the ancestral cloud and punish him for it.

  Norok slowly returned to the cockpit. There were still things he could do. He had to try to get the ship going again, and if that didn’t work, he’d be compelled to emerge from the gas giant’s atmosphere on his own. But he’d lost all hope of success. And as a leader, he understood better than anyone that without this hope, he’d have no chance of remaining Supreme Explorer.

  The cockpit was a dismal sight. The hole caused by the enemy cannon was beyond repair, and although some of the control computers were still working, it wasn’t clear how much time they had left. The ship’s energy stores would be depleted soon. Nevertheless he started an analysis, since there was nothing else to do. It showed that one of the engines required repair.

  Norok roused himself from his inertia. The computer showed him where he could get the required spare part. It was something of a miracle that it happened to be on board. Norok memorized the steps needed for the repair and left the cockpit to search for the spare part. He first had to push aside the magnetic cannon. He encountered Lashok’s corpse again and was unable to prevent the tears from running down his face.

  Then he opened storage room 7B. It was dark, so he needed the flashlight from the suit’s tool bag. There were a few containers that had fallen off the shelves. He examined each of them and finally found the label he was looking for. He shined the light directly on the lid. Bright rays of light illuminated a series of holes in the metal. As he removed the lid, Norok cursed loudly, even though he knew that no one could hear him. The spare part, which served to shield the working mass container, had been grazed by bullets and was as porous as an old flatfish. The working mass container would never be able to build up the necessary pressure. What crap! The inventory didn’t include another spare part of this type. So, he wouldn’t be able to put the engine back into operation.

  All that remained was the second option. He’d have to leave the ship on his own to save Kimi—or to avenge her. Norok checked his suit’s reserves. If he connected it to the ship’s computer, he could get the energy cells up to 100 percent. He made the connection and crouched next to the computer. It would be challenging to ascend with his right wing injured. He didn’t know how far down in the atmosphere he was.

  The computer soon reported that the suit’s storage was full. Norok rose and stretched out both wings. At least with the huge hole in the cockpit he had enough room to do so. What if it didn’t work? The layers of air weren’t transparent down here. He’d immediately lose sight of the flying machine. Norok left the cockpit one more time to look for Lashok. He turned over his corpse, found the tracking device, and activated it. Lashok would direct him back to the ship. Norok ran back into the cockpit and then hesitated. But this wasn’t going to be of any help. He couldn’t deliberate for too long. He let out a battle cry and jumped.

  The injured wing was already causing him problems with the very first flight stroke. It wasn’t so much the pain that was the problem, it was the damaged joint, which demanded a significant amount of energy to move. The suit provided the necessary power, but this would more quickly drain the reserves. Norok made a valiant effort. He was miserable. He was the only one who could save Kimi, if she was even still alive. He wouldn’t believe that she’d died until he saw her corpse. But even this motivation was not enough. When he checked his analyzer screen after a few hundred wing beats, he saw that he had only made a mere 30 wingspans.

  The flying machine still had to be directly under him. At least that was what he thought, but when he located Lashok’s tracking device, the source was clearly behind him. As he flew back, it felt more like paddling. It was a little easier going down than up because the gravitational pull of the giant planet helped him. Should he let himself sink all the way down? At some point the pressure would become so great that his skull or his lungs would explode. Which of the two organs would it get to first? He’d be the first Iks to make this discovery, although he wouldn’t live to report it.

  That was the problem. That was his problem, which he had to solve. It shouldn’t be primarily about saving Kimi. The most important thing was to warn the other Iks, and perhaps the enemy was already well on its way toward the generation ship. He’d been the last witness at the battle at the giant planet, after all. He had already failed as the Supreme Explorer, and now he could not fail as an Iks.

  It took all the strength Norok had left to make it back to the flying machine. In the destroyed cockpit, he sat on his seat and thought. His brain was still working. How could he warn the others? A radio message wouldn’t make it out of the layers of the atmosphere. A messenger was what was needed. But the only candidate was too weak. He’d always considered himself strong, and now here he was, too weak to save his own species.

 
; But hadn’t the Iks already found a solution to their problem? There had been no weak points in the rope they’d used to slow down their generation ship because of the nanomachines’ constant maintenance. The nanos worked universally. They could fix anything as long as the right materials were available. Everything? Nobody had tried using them on a living body before. It was taboo, as the Iks worried about losing their true nature. But he had nothing left to lose. He had the small piece of the rope, which he’d shown to Kimikizu back during their expedition to the first planet. There had to be millions of nanos on it.

  Norok dragged himself into his cabin. He knew where to find the rope. He carried it into Grisok’s room. The Keeper couldn’t help him anymore, but Norok knew that he had a programming device for the nanos. The principle was simple—the tiny machines communicated with the computer via radio. All he had to do was send them the blueprints for everything they were supposed to fix, and then the nanos would take it from there. They procured the replacement material, performed the repairs, and coordinated everything. If necessary, they would also reproduce. They didn’t require the details, just the big picture.

  Still in Grisok’s room, Norok set down the piece of rope and started with the programming. The computer confirmed that all the data had been transferred. Then Norok put his hand on the rope so the nanos could enter his body. He felt a tingling sensation, but he must have just imagined it, since the machines were far too small to trigger his body’s sensory system.

  Now all he had to do was wait. Once the nanos were done with their job, he’d be perfectly healthy. But more than that, he would be invincible. The machines would then treat any injury in a flash, just like they’d repair damage to a flying machine. He would never be the same as he’d been before. This scared him, but he also knew that he had no choice but to make this sacrifice. The reason it was a sacrifice was that the Iks would consider him a monster. It didn’t matter to him in terms of all the other Iks except for Kimi. She’d never see him for anything other than what he had become.

  “Our plan has two parts,” said Likarizu, the Supreme Protector.

  As she spoke, she looked at the Supreme Leaders in attendance. The Supreme Mother, in particular, would not like the second part of the plan. She didn’t like it herself, but it was necessary, and even the Supreme Conqueror had finally agreed to it.

  “The Conquerors are responsible for the first part of the plan,” said the Supreme Conqueror.

  “Is there any news in terms of communication?” the Supreme Mother asked them.

  “We’re sending signals at all wavelengths, but they’re not responding,” replied the Supreme Knowledge Guardian.

  “Perhaps you’re not looking carefully enough.”

  “Supreme Mother!” stammered the Supreme Knowledge Guardian, her feathers bristling. The Supreme Mother never spoke so sharply.

  Likarizu was on the verge of losing heart—the Supreme Mother would never accept her part of the plan.

  “There is, however, good news from the gas giant’s system,” the Supreme Conqueror said in an attempt to lighten the mood.

  “I’m listening?”

  “A precise analysis of our recorded material shows that only a few of the alien ships participated in the battle. Maybe they’re the only ones we have to deal with.”

  “Maybe?”

  “Our plan, Supreme Mother, naturally accounts for all possibilities.”

  “So what does it look like, this plan of yours?”

  “We have to make sure the attackers approach us only in small groups. To do this, we will release all the remaining flying machines except one. They are equipped with magnetic cannons, and have the task of only allowing a maximum of three of the alien ships to pass through to us. We can destroy such a number with the weapons on the asteroid’s surface.”

  “What’s the catch?”

  “There will be casualties. We probably won’t see the flying machine crews again. The crews will be made up of volunteers who are no longer in the reproductive phase.”

  “And how certain is the success of this plan?”

  “So far, not certain at all. We’ll have to adjust it as we gain experience fighting the enemy.”

  “There won’t be much time for that.”

  “We’re aware of this. And we can’t rule out the possible failure of this plan.”

  “And then comes Plan B?”

  “Correct, Supreme Mother,” said the Supreme Protector. “Under my command, the last flying machine will head toward the third planet’s moon. It’s halfway to the gas giant and has the right size and kinetic energy.”

  “For what, Protector?”

  Likarizu fully understood that the question was meant rhetorically. The Supreme Mother’s eyes sparkled.

  “We will anchor the rope.”

  “What...”

  She ignored the Supreme Mother. “We will anchor the rope,” she repeated, “and hurl ourselves out of the system. This is our last chance to ensure the survival of our civilization.”

  “That... is... entirely... unacceptable.”

  She had known the Supreme Mother wouldn’t agree with the plan. It was too bad, but it didn’t mean they’d have to abandon it. The Supreme Mother may have been the commander of the Supreme Leaders, but she had to defer to a vote, too. All they had to do was convince the other Supreme Leaders. The Supreme Mother had never lost a vote so far, but they had also never encountered an aggressive alien species that was technologically superior to them.

  “I understand, Supreme Mother, that many Iks have had great hopes for this system. Therefore, in the first part of the plan, we will try to hold our ground here. But if we fail to do so, the species' survival takes precedence over any other option. I’m sure you see it the same way, Supreme Mother.”

  “The Supreme Protector is right,” the Keeper said.

  Likarizu had expected him to approve. Knowledge Guardians tended to make rational decisions, and it was logical to flee before being destroyed.

  “As our last resort, I also think escaping makes sense,” said the Supreme Provider.

  Her vote was important. So that made four. Likarizu had already convinced the Supreme Conqueror, who had been the one to work out the plan with her. So they just needed one more vote for the majority.

  “Since Norok is absent and I don’t know his intentions, I’ll abstain,” said the representative of the few remaining Explorers.

  “We don’t set a good example for young people if we give up our struggle before it’s lost,” said the Supreme Teacher.

  This was what she had expected. He belonged to the particularly conservative faction.

  “I support the Supreme Mother,” said the Supreme Artist. “I know that she only wants the best for our species and has great experience, so I trust her decision.”

  Crap. She’d expected more from the artists than to hide behind the mother.

  “I already made a mistake when I rejected Kimikizu’s thesis about the wormholes,” said the Supreme Navigator. “I don’t want to make a second mistake. But I don’t know what’s right either. That’s why I’m abstaining.”

  It was four to three for Likarizu’s plan.

  The Supreme Mother had lost the vote. “But,” the mother suddenly said, “If that’s how it is, I’ll change my mind and agree to your plan. Let us hope that the first part is successful.”

  A smart move, Likarizu thought. And so it remained true that the Supreme Mother had never lost a single vote.

  Intermedium 2

  “Where are they? The universe is billions of years old. Space and time were created 10-43 seconds after the Big Bang, or the collapse of a previous universe, or a fluctuation in the void, or collision of two branes in the multiverse—or after God snapped His fingers, if you prefer this explanation.

  “After 10-35 seconds, the newly-created universe had expanded by a factor of 1050 during its inflationary phase, and after 10-32 seconds it was filled with a primordial soup that included quarks, neut
rinos, and electrons. From then on, it only expanded at nearly the speed of light.

  “The first helium atoms formed after one hundred seconds, and an hour later, the newly formed universe was filled with hot plasma that was several million degrees.

  “After 400,000 years, the plasma soup thinned, and the microwave radiation that can still be measured today was able to spread freely.

  “Assisted by dark matter, hydrogen and helium contracted after a hundred million years to form the first stars.

  “The first galaxies formed after three-hundred million years.

  “The Milky Way has at least a hundred billion suns, and there are at least a hundred billion Milky Ways. There are probably seventy trillion stars in the universe, and perhaps even more! That’s ten stars for every grain of sand on our insignificant planet Earth, dear Shra! And most of these suns have planets. Quite a few support life, and intelligent life has surely developed on many of them, billions of years ago, on probably millions of planets. Everywhere! But where did it go? Where are they all?”

  Mart waved his hand, and the hologram with the countless galaxies and suns disappeared.

  “The answer is logical,” he said. “They just couldn’t make it!”

  “Nice gimmick,” Shra observed. “But you could have just linked me to the data instead of putting on a show. Besides, I already know all this.”

  “That would be less poetic, don’t you think? There’s something so prosaic about bare facts.”

  “What does this have to do with my request?”

  “You promised me something extraordinary—a surprise. But so far, this is just plain boring. It is neither extraordinary nor surprising. It has happened countless times in the history of the universe.”

  ‘You’re contradicting yourself, Mart. The two species meeting is exceptional. As you yourself said, most of them didn’t make it.”

  “Ah, you’re coming to the wrong conclusion, my dear Shra! It’s not exactly extraordinary, but almost inevitable. Most did not make it because they encountered each other! Well, if they hadn’t already killed themselves off. Species don’t perish because they simply die out—they perish because they either destroy themselves or are destroyed by others. Life doesn’t survive in the long run, because ultimately it always destroys itself! It’s that simple.”