Once Upon a Saturn Moon

by Edward Antrobus

  The marines removed their helmets. The younger woman lifted her mask and took a tentative breath. Content that the humans' air wouldn't kill her, she removed her mask. The other two followed suit.

  The older woman extended her arm, staring at it as her hand moved away from her body as if unsure of the motion. In Titan, she said, "I am Marsil and these are my companions Graaf and Salaris. I am here to warn you of a great threat."

  Cynthia took the extended hand and shook it. "I am Cynthia. Welcome to Prometheus." She said the last word in English.

  Marsil looked around the habitat and repeated the word slowly. "Pro-me-thus."

  Cynthia smiled. "Why don't we sit and talk?" She waved her arm towards the main hall.

  The Marines had started the cleanup, but there was still blood in places and various broken pieces. Most of the tables were overturned, but there was one near the western edge that was still upright. Cynthia pointed to it and took a seat in the middle.

  The others sat. "Do humans require these spaces to be so warm?" Marsil asked.

  "We can tolerate cooler temperatures. Would you like us to turn down the heat?" Cynthia answered.

  "Please," the younger woman, Salaris, she had been called, "It is warmer here than even the temple."

  Franklin rushed off to disable the heater. It would get cold here soon enough, but this would get them started.

  "Why here you?" Cynthia asked in her halting Titan.

  Marsil laughed. "Your Baran is terrible." She said something else, but it was too fast for them to understand.

  Lana turned to Cynthia. "May I try? I studied Sam's language long before you were assigned to Titan."

  "Please, go ahead. My ego isn't so large that I won't take help," she responded.

  "Please talk slowly, we don't know language well," Lana told the aliens.

  Marsil snorted. Apparently, she didn't think much more of Lana's language skills than she had Cynthia's.

  Marsil spoke slowly, "I will use small words like talking to children. You are not safe. There will be an attack."

  "We know, one of your people tricked us and attacked two days ago," Cynthia answered through Lana.

  "No, no. An army. And not my people. Our enemy," Marsil answered.

  Franklin opened the door. "There is another one approaching."

  "Donoon," Salaris cried out. Marsil half stood. Lana's and Alvin's eyes narrowed at the name.

  "Is this one of your people?" Cynthia asked.

  "Yes, but he was going to stay behind because, well, it's complicated," Graaf spoke for the first time.

  The ambassador turned to the Marine at the door. "Corporal Franklin, please invite him in. All you come in peace are welcome."

  "I am not sure that is good idea," Marsil said. After translating, Lana agreed. "It had better be a different Donoon." Now it was Marsil's turn to tilt her head at the blonde human, her eyes full of unasked questions.

  "Nonsense," Cynthia replied. "We will take a break while we wait for him."

  "But time is short," Marsil said.

  "There isn't much we can do in the next few minutes," Cynthia shook her head.

  The sat in silence while they waited for Franklin came back. Alvin pushed his chair back and the others stiffened when Sam came in behind him. His arms were bound together and one eye was swollen shut.

  "What did you do to him," Salaris shouted and ran to him.

  "Stay back," Franklin yelled in English and aimed his sidearm at her.

  "You promised," Marsil yelled. Graaf pulled at her arm. She seethed at Franklin and her eyes roamed the room, probably looking for something to use as a weapon.

  "I did," Cynthia answered in English. She walked over to the Marine corporal. "I gave my word to these people. You will put that weapon away."

  Franklin kept the pistol aimed at its target. "This is the one that attacked two days ago. He killed Lee, Gregson, and Turner."

  "And Tom," Lana added. "Why is that thing still breathing?" She lunged at their captive. Franklin swung the gun in her direction.

  Cynthia put her hand on Lana's shoulder. "Violence will not bring Tom back." She looked Franklin in the eye. In a low and firm voice, she told him, "Put that away now." He looked uncertain and slowly put it back in its holster. "Did he attack you?"

  "No, ma'am. He appeared to be surrendering," Franklin responded.

  "So why did you beat him?" Cynthia asked.

  "This is the one who attacked two days ago. He killed Lee, Gregson, and Turner," he repeated.

  "Corporal, you are relieved of your duties. Your conduct will be reported to Captain Johns when he returns." She reached for the intercom microphone. "Corporal Simmons, please come here and relieve Corporal Franklin and see him to his quarters."

  Simmons entered the room, "What's happen—oh, holy mother." He stared at Franklin and his prisoner. "What happened?" He repeated in a lower voice.

  "Why did you come back?" Cynthia asked.

  Lana started to translate, but Sam held up his hand. "I speak English much better than any of you speak our language. My name is Donoon, and I came back to surrender. I was misled by my leader. I cannot help the man that tortured Salaris to hurt others."

  Marsil and Salaris started talking at once. The two voices were much too fast for any of the humans to understand. Alvin caught bits and pieces. Marsil said something about it not being part of the plan, but Donoon countered that it was his. She asked Salaris if she knew.

  Salaris got quiet and nodded. "Donoon, the Saarkaaks would have protected you."

  Sam - no, Donoon, Alvin corrected himself, said, "They would have executed me. If the humans kill me, at least if will be for my actions instead of for simply being a Barakaak. I know you don't like it but it is done."

  The other aliens didn't seem to have an answer for that. Donoon turned back to the humans and spoke in English. "My uncle is the leader of our people. He sent me to spy on you and to take out your leadership ahead of our army attacking you for your ship. From there, we were going to invade the Earth by reducing your population with the plague that killed our people a generation before. When Salaris found out, she spoke against him and he had her tortured and then lied to me about it. I've overlooked much of what he has done because I believed he was trying to protect our people from our enemies, but these two," pointing at Marsil and Graaf, "have shown me that my enemy cares more about me than my own family."

  Cynthia nodded. "That is a lot to take in. You say that your uncle is heading this way. How much time do we have? We have our own soldiers heading towards your city."

  "They will be ambushed and killed," Donoon replied. Vaamick is waiting for them. He knew they would seek revenge for my attack. And then the army will be here tomorrow to kill the rest of you. The Saarkaaks can stall them, but cannot stop them without help. But I have a plan."

  "We will hear this plan. But we need to get our people out there, to safety. Is there any way to get to them in time?" Cynthia asked.

  Donoon shook his head. "Not unless you can fly."

  Alvin's head snapped up. "Well, it just so happens that it might be possible."

  Human and alien alike followed Alvin to the cargo locker by the air lock. He opened a trunk and riffled through it until he found what he was looking for. He started to unroll the canvas.

  "You crazy, SOB," Simmons told him. "That just might work. But never with your spacesuit. Too much weight. Use Lee's groundsuit. He won't need it anymore." He bit his lip and looked down.

  Alvin looked down as well. Wearing the dead man's clothing didn't seem right to him somehow. But if Simmons thought the spacesuit would be too heavy, he wouldn't question it. He walked down the aisle to Lee's locker and pulled the garment out.

  Simmons showed him how to put it on and how to attach the various cords and valves needed to keep him alive outside. He tied the PVC tubing to his arms and legs and bundled up the canvas in his arms to squeeze through the air lock. Before putting on Lee's helmet, he kissed Sandra. "Wish
me luck."

  "Please don't do this," she pleaded. "It's too dangerous. Why can't somebody else do it?"

  "Because I'm the only one who has ever seen it done," Alvin told her. "And I'm probably the only one here with enough muscle but not too much mass. Only I can do this."

  "Well, be safe," she cried.

  "I will." He put on the helmet and the air lock door closed. The suit felt different from his own as the pressure changed. The outer door opened and he stepped outside.

  He let the canvas hang from his arms. "Time to fly." He took a running start towards a large flat rock near the edge of the camp. As he stepped on the rock, he pushed himself as high as he could go. He spread his arms and the thick Titan air filled out the canvas.

  He caught an air current and was thrown back and up. Alvin leaned his body forward and the breeze no longer pushed him in the wrong direction but he started to sink. He flapped his arms, regaining the lost altitude and moving forward.

  Alvin recalled being a child and imagining that he could fly if he only jumped the right way and flapped his arms hard enough. Now that childhood dream was coming true. He was flying.

  The heads-up display in the helmet showed him the direction. Twenty miles separated him and the Marines. He banked to his left and flew in their direction.

  Clarke had been right; the flight exhilarated Alvin. He had to force himself to stay on course and not attempt all the tricks he imagined himself doing. He was making good time, but Alvin noticed a problem. The oxygen gauge was dropping faster than the distance he needed to travel. He watched the needle drop into the red. A mile away, the alarm started blaring.

  He had to keep going, lives were at stake. He spotted the Marines at the horizon and pushed forward. His lungs burned. The oxygen was gone. How long could he hold his breath? Alvin had made it to two minutes once in the pool, but he hadn't been performing a marathon at the time.

  He aimed in their direction and hoped they would spot him if he didn't make it. He heard a gunshot and a hole appeared in his left wing. The air rushed through it and the hole started widening. He lost altitude. At least he had confirmation that they saw him.

  Alvin tumbled into a dune and blacked out. When he woke up, he was still in his suit with a new oxygen canister attached.

  "That's got to be the stupidest thing I've ever seen anyone try," Johns said. Alvin looked to his right and saw the Major standing over him. "There had better be a reason why you stole a dead man's gear and risk your life to get to us. And if I find out that you were trying to warn the enemy, I will take your helmet off right here."

  "Oh, for the last time, I'm not working with the aliens." He pounded the sand next to him with his fist and got to his feet. "I'm trying to warn you. They know you are here." Alvin recounted the events leading up to his flight.

  Johns didn't say anything for a minute. Then he called, "Fitz. Go scout the next dune. Go the long way and tell me if you can verify Mr. Smith's story."

  A voice Alvin didn't recognize confirmed the order and left the camp. Alvin glared at Johns. The man seemed intent to distrust Alvin's every word and take risks just to spite him. For his part, the Major ignored him and reviewed something on a ruggedized tablet.

  Fitz returned. "It's true, Major. The enemy has troops scattered over the next ridge. At least two hundred. There's a choke point ahead and we would've been sitting ducks."

  "Roger that, Fitz. Good work." Johns turned back to Alvin. "You just saved a lot of lives. Thank you. I'll sound the retreat and hopefully we don't alert the enemy. You say there are allies coming?"

  Alvin nodded. He guessed that was as close as he was going to get to an apology for the way Johns had been treating him since the Prometheus landed. "But they won't be here until tomorrow. There's a plan to assassinate their leader and hopefully stop this before we have casualties. I need to get those wings repaired and get back so I can fill my role in it."

  Johns held out his hand to Alvin. "Well, make sure you take enough oxygen this time, will you?"

  Marsil

  Marsil didn't like the plan. Everything about it made her nervous. She'd had little input into its design. Even though she had risked her life and thrown away her career to warn the humans, once Donoon showed up, he stole the show and conducted business in human. No, make that English. She shook her head at the thought. She knew Earth was bigger than Bara, but it boggled her mind that the humans' world had so many languages. English wasn't even the most spoken.

  Donoon said that he wanted to make amends by helping the humans and they had jumped at the chance to use their own language. He translated for her, but how did she know that he was translating faithfully. He had his own agenda. Of that, she was sure.

  So now, she and Alvin were tied up and following him to meet with Vaamick. She couldn't believe that Vaamick fell for "They have information that could be of use." If one of her soldiers had told her that they had a prisoner with information, she would have directed them to get the information and get rid of the prisoner. It seemed harsh, but they didn't have the resources to feed idle hands these days.

  Marsil fidgeted under her bindings. She had to take Alvin's word that she would be able to get out of them easily at the right time. He'd shown her the fake knot they would use and how easy it was to slip out of. He'd called it the Wookie Gambit and said it was the oldest trick in the galaxy.

  The humans had laughed at that. Marsil frowned just thinking about it. She'd frowned then, too. "Don't worry if you don't get it," he'd said. "It requires a cultural reference that is almost universal amongst our people."

  While Alvin tried to explain about something called Star Wars, Graaf worked to rewire the radio again. His original work at served its purpose but now Donoon had to lure Vaamick out into a trap. Marsil didn't want to lose the ability to contact the Saarkaaks. "Why don't you use one of the humans' radios?" She had asked.

  The soldier in the humans' party had handed Graaf one of their spares. He gave it a cursory glance. "No good. Their technology is too primitive. I'd never get it to work with our stuff."

  The soldier squawked when Donoon translated Graaf's opinion. "What are you calling primitive? That is state of the art. They are hardly two cans and a string."

  Graaf struggled for a way of putting it as inoffensively as possible. "Our people have been around for a long time. We experienced our technological revolution similar to your current one when your people were discovering how to work metals."

  The explanation didn't seem to satisfy Simmons. Marsil supposed she needed to make the effort to remember all of their names, even the one who hadn't even tried to learn her language through Donoon's misdirection.

  "So you are calling us cavemen?" He'd said.

  "No, I—Look. I have a lot of work to do and not much time to do it if you don't want your people slaughtered. One of the others may be more diplomatic about how far you need to go to be considered on the same planet, technologically."

  Marsil snorted at Graaf's loss of temper. She took the radio from Donoon and led him to another room in the human structure. She wished the humans didn't keep their living space so warm. Even Salaris, who had grown up in the warmest spot on all of Bara had rolled up the sleeves of her jumpsuit and opened the top a little. For Marsil, only modesty kept the top of her jumpsuit on at all.

  "Don't worry about them. How well would you react if you met an alien civilization that made us look like ants? And then told you that you could be of no use in saving us?" She defended the humans to Graaf.

  "I suppose so. He just wouldn't quit," he told her. "At least the tools they have here aren't totally useless. It should go a little faster this time." He sat down at a workbench. Marsil started for the door. "And it will go even faster if you have some patience and wait for me to finish." He smiled to take the sting out of the barb.

  Marsil listened to Alvin's broken Baran until Graaf returned. "It's done."

  "Thank Bara," she exclaimed. She jumped over and met him on the other side of
the great room. "Donoon," she called over to where he was explaining Bara's political structure to an eager Cynthia.

  Donoon stood and walked over to her and Graaf. "Okay, I'll need silence for this. He keyed in the identifier for Vaamick into the restored keypad and waited for it to connect. "

  "Donoon, Thank Bara you called. I was beginning to think that something happened to you." Vaamick said over the radio.

  "There were some complications," he explained. "I have prisoners. A human and a Saarkaak. They almost stopped me. But I stopped them instead."

  "Well, that's good. But why did you take prisoners? I have no use for them. Kill them."," Vaamick sad.

  "The Saarkaaks already made contact," Donoon lied. "They can give us information on how the Saarkaaks are going to return."

  "Fine, bring them to me," he responded.

  "Not enough time," Donoon said, shaking his head. Marsil noticed that he always made gestures even if the other person couldn't see him. Her people tended to laugh at people like that. "Meet me at Grey Rock. It's halfway."

  Vaamick agreed although he didn't seem to be happy. He'd be a lot less happy when he realized that his own nephew had turned on him and was turning him over to his mortal enemy, Marsil mused.

  They walked across the plains to their destination. Marsil kept fidgeting in her bonds. Alvin didn't seem to be faring much better. His face was still swollen from Donoon's attack, a fact that they wished to capitalize on if Vaamick needed convincing.

  Marsil hoped it didn't come to that. Jeef and his guards should be there already. Two seemed like a good compromise between force and stealth. She kept her eye out for the mark he was supposed to make to signal his arrival. They reached Grey Rock. There was still no sign of Jeef but Vaamick was already waiting for them. She looked at Donoon but he kept his stare ahead to his uncle.

  They closed the last few feet to Vaamick. He stood alone. She guessed that he didn't want any more witnesses to the treachery he was about to undertake. Donoon pushed her down. "Kneel." She glared at him, but he boxed her ear. He leaned forward and hugged Vaamick. "Here they are."