House of the Galactic Elevator (A Beginner’s Guide to Invading Earth Book 2)

by Gerhard Gehrke

  Jordan gave him a pat on the head.

  “You poor dear.”

  She ditched Lord Akimbo when she saw Jeff. She helped him up.

  “Where did you come from?” Jordan asked. “You’re all wet, and you’re freezing.”

  “I was outside.”

  “What were you doing out there? I thought you ran back out into the hallway.”

  “The Grey was chasing me so I ducked through the hatchway. Where is Irving now?”

  “He was here when I dropped down. He tried to come after me, but his little torch ran out of juice. I kicked him in the head, so he gave up. He’s not used to fighting in the real world. When the worms stopped getting into the machine and Lord Akimbo couldn’t get them moving again, Irving ran. I managed to get Oliop back up by removing his translator.” She looked Jeff over and stifled a laugh. “You were down there this whole time? We need to get you warmed up so you don’t get sick.”

  “I’ll be fine,” he said with a grumble. Shivers continued to course through him. He nodded in Lord Akimbo’s direction. “What about him?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Jordan said. “He’s no threat. Not anymore. His worms aren’t listening to him. Lady Capitoline’s last act was to offer one worm a job. It accepted and passed the invitation along to some of the others. Just look at the little critters now.”

  The ones on the floor had finished the new hatch cover. Jeff flipped it closed with a foot. It fit perfectly. The worms crawled onto the machine and began to patch the holes in the coppery surface.

  “So where’s Oliop?”

  “Irving ran for the elevator, if I had to guess. Oliop went after him.”

  ***

  Oliop caught up to his former boss at the first landing of the palace’s main floor. The little Grey was panting and holding a hand to its side. It didn’t hear Oliop as he vaulted a stone banister.

  Irving showed no reaction when it saw Oliop approach.

  “Why would you want to hurt everyone in the city?” Oliop asked.

  The Grey just shook its head. Oliop waited for the insult to his character or his intelligence.

  “Tell me,” Oliop said. “Please.”

  “Must I? Isn’t it obvious?”

  “It isn’t. Not to me.”

  “That’s because you’re one of the few that knows his place. Millions of your fellow citizens are only here to make a buck. With the transport system down and everyone cut off from their homeworld, how long before the parasites turn on each other? The city won’t survive. At least Lord Akimbo had a plan, and you and the humans ruined it. Congratulations. No doubt some of the worms that made it down to the city have been compromised with whatever sabotage the humans mustered. So now be ready for the long, drawn-out version of what Lord Akimbo might have prevented. The economy will collapse. The city will devolve into neighborhoods and blocks that set after one another for survival.”

  “No, they won’t. There’s plenty of food and power. Everyone will help keep it all running.”

  The Grey laughed its pinched little laugh. It started to walk down the hallway towards the entrance to the central chamber.

  “The prosperity of the Galactic Commons requires the resources of a thousand connected worlds,” the Grey said. “Now it’s isolated. What do you see everyone doing for work? The city has enough for us all to subsist. But that’s not the lifestyle of the dilettante or the intellectual or the pleasure seeker. It’s too big of an adjustment.”

  Oliop trotted along and blocked the Grey’s way forward.

  “We’ll manage somehow,” Oliop said. “I’ll help. You can help, too.”

  The Grey considered Oliop, waved him aside. When the technician didn’t move, it stepped around him.

  “Keep in mind I wanted to burn this place down before we found ourselves in this predicament. And now people like you are here to offer me advice? No, thank you.”

  Oliop kept pace as the Grey went around him. They passed through the double doorway and walked between the statues of giants. He stopped the Grey again. New smells wafted up. The fruity suggestion of irritation were now heavily mixed with the textured, earthy off-notes of pride.

  “Maybe we need your help,” Oliop said.

  “My help? My help?” The Grey let out a cackle that made Oliop flinch. “What, you think because of Lord Trippy Legs’ plans going sideways that I’m ready to see the error of my ways and to roll up my sleeves and pitch in? Do you see me sweeping the streets? Digging furrows for some herbivore’s sugar beets? You’ve spent too much time with your machines. Every part has a place in your world. Not in mine. This city is like an overgrown bramble thicket that just needs a well-placed flame. Now get out of my way.”

  Oliop watched the Grey waddle on. Hmmm. He thought the Greys all liked sugar beets.

  Oliop strolled between the monuments of the city founders. He let out the occasional “oooh” as he looked up at the grand and varied figures of the Galactic Commons’ unsung ancient history. He found himself less interested in the specifics of each individual and more fascinated by the way each statue had been formed and from what material they were made. Small imperfections spoke to a methodology that didn’t involve matter printing, yet these could have been intentionally added by the sculptors, couldn’t they? And how had such a large amount of material even been hauled up here? That led to him wondering about the palace itself and how it stayed afloat without anyone below even knowing it existed.

  Perhaps this explained the moratorium on flying vehicles that had restricted their use within the Commons for, like, ever.

  The chamber was perfectly silent. No hum came from the machine below. The wind outside no longer howled. And Oliop always walked softly.

  That was when he heard the Grey screaming his name. Oliop went trotting in that direction. He found his former boss where both of the elevators had arrived. But neither elevator was there now.

  “Where’s the elevator?” the Grey said. Its hands were balled into fists.

  Oliop shrugged but couldn’t keep his mouth from forming the smallest smile.

  “What did you do?”

  “With the help of two of the new worms, I sent both of the elevators back to Earth. I’m sure it’s what you would have done eventually.”

  CHAPTER 32

  The Director tried to approach Doctor Cochran as she busied herself in getting the refugees a meal. Since the rest of the camp personnel were compromised, no one had bothered to make the visitors their lunch, and there were two thousand mouths and other food-receiving orifices that needed feeding. A Thaco-infected soldier followed behind the Director, his rifle dragging in the dirt behind him. Both the Director and the soldier looked a bit pale for humans.

  They were mostly all back at the camp near one of the hangars. Doctor Cochran had two rows of folding tables up, with trays of food set out that didn’t require any preparation. Toggs kept as many refugees close by in the outer camp as would still listen to him, but many had returned to the makeshift barracks behind the fence, all at Kwed’s request. The millipedoid was proving a cheerful assistant to the Director.

  Toggs got in the Director’s way. The Thaco soldier glared hungrily at the doctor, as if he was tempted to take a bite.

  “We need the doctor’s help,” the Director said.

  “You’re not getting near her,” Toggs said.

  The Director spoke up loud enough for Doctor Cochran to hear. “A couple of my men are sick.”

  Doctor Cochran came through the refugee lunch crowd and put her hands on one of Toggs’ arms. “What’s wrong?”

  “If I knew, I wouldn’t be here.”

  “Tell me what’s happening.”

  “A couple of agents are having a hard time moving. Looks like some kind of fever.”

  “That would make sense. You’re infectious foreign agents, and you think these hosts are going to let you in without putting up a fight? It’s an immune response. The body might let itself die before letting you win. We’re hardwired that way.�
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  “So you’ll let them die.”

  She sighed and looked up at Toggs. He shook his head.

  “Place them in the infirmary,” Doctor Cochran said. “Clear the rest of your soldiers away from the building. I don’t trust them to be near me. I’ll check on the sick ones. If I see an ounce of Thaco anywhere, I’m letting the men die.”

  “If they’re actually sick,” Toggs said. He turned to look down at the doctor.

  “I know it’s probably a trap. But just in case it isn’t, I can’t just ignore them.”

  “You’re good, for a human. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  ***

  Two of the agents were laid out on top of two cots inside the infirmary. Both still wore their dark suits. One was Flat Nose. Toggs checked if either man was armed. Neither did anything to stop him. Both of their faces looked yellow and sweaty. Toggs removed both men’s pistols and stun guns from their shoulder holsters. He next searched the rest of the portable building. It was modestly equipped compared to the exam tent for the refugees. No Thacos lay in wait.

  “Normally, I have a nurse,” Doctor Cochran said. “I guess she got infected.”

  “Looks clear,” Toggs said. He double-checked under cots and behind the machines and furniture for any traces of the moving viral slime. He then opened the door and looked outside. The Director stood at a neighboring tent with a trio of soldiers. They all watched the infirmary and were too close by Toggs’ standards. He closed the door again.

  Doctor Cochran donned plastic glasses, a mask, and gloves. Toggs went to keep a close eye on the sick humans. The two men were breathing hard as if they had just exerted themselves. Their arms and legs lay at their sides unmoving. Only their drooping eyes followed the doctor as she began her examination.

  She used a number of small probes and devices on the men, murmuring as she did her tests. Both of the humans worked their mouths and throats but without the violent action that preceded a wad of Thaco. She opened Flat Nose’s mouth with a pair of flat sticks, proceeding as if she were disarming an explosive. Their saliva shined red with blood. She took a swab and bagged it. She lifted up Flat Nose’s arm. It fell back to the cot when released. She took notes on a computer tablet.

  “Are they dying?” Toggs asked.

  “Hard to tell at this point. There’s so many variables. They’re really sick, though. I’d need to run quite a number of tests on their blood. If there’s nothing else pressing, I’d like to start with that.”

  A knock came at the door. Toggs had the doctor back away from the patients while he went to see who was there.

  “I’m alone,” the Director said. He tried to step past Toggs but he wouldn’t let him. “Has the doctor reached an initial conclusion?”

  “She has not,” Doctor Cochran said. “I’m only as far as the preliminaries. Some of the tests will be extensive. I’ll need some of the equipment from my lab brought here. Send in Kwed, and he can get volunteers from among the visitors to help out. That way you can continue to keep your infected away from me.”

  “How about an initial hypothesis?”

  “They’re sick. You all are. There’s a big biological flip-flop going on in your gut, and where the gut goes, the rest of the body follows. I can, however, try a few things in the meantime.”

  “No antivirals.”

  “Hmm. Well, that’s out. But at least I’d like to give them something to help their bodies keep up their strength. There’s some basic nutritional ingredients, more than what’s in my lab, that I want brought here, too. Let me make you a list.”

  ***

  Once the Director left, Doctor Cochran removed her protective gear, washed up, and pulled over a stool.

  “What about the other tests?” Toggs asked.

  “I’ll run them soon enough just to give me something to do. But I’ve got a good idea that these gentlemen are suffering from a vitamin deficiency. I’ll treat that and observe their reaction. Thaco should have done its homework before jumping into the first gut biome it could. It still could be something else, but Thaco, in my professional opinion, causes scurvy.”

  “And how do you treat that?”

  “Large doses of vitamins. The only possible hitch is whether we have enough to go around and if the Director knows how big of a dose I intend to give each infected soldier and agent here.”

  ***

  Kwed demonstrated that he could be helpful, which surprised Toggs. He got a crew of refugees to bring in enough lab equipment to make the infirmary feel more cramped than before. Next they brought in supplements and foodstuffs.

  “We have the run of the camp,” Kwed said as they brought in the latest load of goods. “The humans must like me.”

  “You’re all the Director talks about,” Toggs said.

  “Really?”

  “No. Now keep watch outside.”

  Doctor Cochran picked through the supplies. She zeroed in on ascorbic acid. She took some pills out of a bottle. They didn’t look like anything special: oval, white, non-volatile. A look of doubt crossed her face.

  “What’s wrong?” Toggs asked.

  “What if this just makes the host better?”

  “Then you’ve at least done your duty as a physician. We’ll figure something else out.”

  She gave Toggs a smile. “Who’d have ever thought an alien could be such an optimist. Okay, let’s try this. Signal the Director. I want to talk to him.”

  ***

  “Vitamin C?” the Director asked. “And these others?”

  “B complex supplements, biotin, and folic acid.”

  He looked skeptically down at the handful of pills.

  “Why so much of the C?”

  “Because your new friend seems to absorb or leach that out from the host.”

  The Director continued to examine each pill.

  “There’s nothing there I haven’t taken,” Doctor Cochran said. “Each pill is labeled. We’ve added nothing to them. You’re free to check. If you want to feel better and want your men to feel better and to go forth and become productive Thaco, they’ll need to take their vitamins.”

  The Director leveled a stare at the doctor. The expression on the man’s face made Toggs uneasy. He had met skull-crushing lava lizards back home with looks like this, creatures that would smile while they unhinged their jaws to swallow you whole.

  Then the Director smirked. “Vitamins. Such an elegant solution.”

  The Director put the pills in his mouth and swallowed them. The doctor handed him a paper cup with water, which he drank down. He paused for a moment, belched once, and nodded.

  “I’ll have the others come by,” he said. “They’ll behave.”

  Soon, every Thaco-infected human in the camp visited the infirmary, all under the watch of the Director and Toggs. Kwed handed each sick human three small cups of pills and a bottle of water. None took the vitamins but carried it all with them as they exited. Once the last patient had come by, Toggs escorted the Director out and closed the door. Doctor Cochran pestled up some of the vitamin C pills and put them in water. This she gave to the two agents on the cots.

  “Why so many other vitamins?” Toggs asked.

  “That’s just to distract the Director from the one that hopefully will do the trick.”

  Toggs took a look out a window. All of the infected humans gathered just outside the infirmary. The Director went to each in turn and took their hand. Then each took their vitamins.

  “Give me a hand,” she said. She began to move a filing cabinet. Toggs and the doctor began to block the door.

  “This won’t stop them if they really want to get in here,” he said. He moved a metal desk and tipped it up against the filing cabinet.

  “If I’m wrong, it won’t matter. They weren’t going to let me out of here. But if I’m right, then it’s going to get messy out there. Hopefully they’ll be too busy to want to bother getting back at me. At least this will delay them a little if they try.”

 
***

  Toggs heard the sounds from outside and instantly knew what they were. This was the noise all life made, from the excretory vacuoles of a single-cell organism to the eight stomachs of the thunder slugs of his homeworld. Every citizen of the Galactic Commons joined in this chorus, even though it divided and repulsed rather than drew together.

  The anal braying of the two human patients on the cots was followed by a smell that almost made Toggs tear away the door’s barricade so could open the door. Both men convulsed. Then they vomited.

  Doctor Cochran put on fresh protective gear. She began to tend to the men, changing their garments and the sheets. Whatever had begun in the infirmary continued outside with the rest of the Thaco-infected. The sounds of wet purging reverberated through the windows. Soon came the weak moans of the afflicted men.

  Someone tried to open the door. Bang-bang-bang. It sounded like a fist. Again, louder, came BANG-BANG-BANG. This sounded like something hard, perhaps a rifle butt.

  Doctor Cochran froze. She was in the process of sponging off Flat Nose. His eyes were closed and his lips moved, but he uttered no words. He was covered with sweat. She had all of his clothes off. Toggs could see the man was covered with tattoos that gave his pale body a bruised look.

  From the other side of the door, the Director called out, “Open up, or I’m going to blow up the infirmary with a grenade.”

  When Doctor Cochran moved towards the door, Toggs asked, “What are you doing?”

  “I’m letting him in. He’ll blow us up.”

  “He could be bluffing.”

  “I doubt it.”

  She started to tip the metal table away.

  “See to your patients,” Toggs said. He moved the rest of the barricade away and opened the door.