“Analysis complete,” the computer said. “The atmospheric content is 21% oxygen, 78% nitrogen, and 1% other inert gases.”
“That’s disappointing,” Ineete said. “Well below the 40% oxygen we need.”
“Then we’ll just have to adapt,” Quuru said. “We’ll lower the oxygen a little bit in the ship every day. Our metabolisms should be able to adapt in time.”
“We’d better hope the target planet is capable of supporting us, because if it isn’t, we don’t have enough fuel to go anywhere else.”
****
July 25th, 1850
Earth’s horizon stretched out in an arc delineating the swarming, living sphere from the cold blackness of space. Deep blue oceans were separated from green and brown continents by a microscopic, jagged line of sand. Quuru and Ineete were near enough that they could see less than a quarter of the planet’s circumference, yet far enough that it didn’t seem to move despite their great speed.
“It truly is the prize of much gold, as Inaka used to say,” Quuru said. “There has to be life down there; it looks too vibrant for there not to be.”
“Yes. Look at the atmosphere in the telescope view: you can see clouds stacked on top of each other, some flickering with what might be static discharge. And if we pan over this way, there are mountain ranges visible in relief. The infrared shows that the optimum temperature is about halfway between the poles and the equator.”
“I wish there was more oxygen in its atmosphere,” Quuru said. “I’ve found it hard adjusting to 21% in the short time we’ve been awake again.”
“Yes, I found it hard too. You know what’s strange?”
“What?”
“There are no radio transmissions at all coming from down there. That means if there is life it’s pretty primitive.”
“That’s probably good for us-there isn’t another intelligent species to compete with.”
“Very true.”
“Where do you think we should land?”
“There’s a large island I’ve been studying. It’s climate is good for us.”
“Why do you think an island is best?”
“It’s less likely to have highly evolved predators since it’s naturally cut off by water. Yet it’s big enough that it will likely have any resources we need.”
“Is it this one?” Quuru said, pointing of the virtual globe of the earth in between them. A tentacle indicated Great Britain.
“Yes, that one. Plus, it’s night there at the moment, which will help us to hide.”
“We’re 135.5 units from the landing zone,” Quuru said. “Beginning braking procedure now.”
The ship turned to a tail-first attitude and the Sun’s blinding rays caught them full on before the glass darkened to temper them. Once the rotation was complete, they felt themselves pushed back in their hemispherical seats, flattening their squashy, bulbous forms as the thrust took effect. Soon, Earth’s horizon came into view again, much straighter than before. Bands of gold, orange, and yellow fire erupted across it as the Sun set.
“I can’t believe we’re actually entering the atmosphere of the target planet,” Ineete said
“Me neither.” Each of them morphed a stalk, projected towards the other. They twisted together halfway between their seats.
They became weightless again as the thrust ceased. The ship turned again so that it was belly up to the rapidly approaching envelope of Earth’s atmosphere.
“Here we go,” Quuru said.
Their seats tipped back, and they felt themselves pressed down again as bursts of bright plasma flashed past the windows. A roar reverberated through the cabin as the ship’s structure shook and buffeted in the massive shockwave of the ionosphere.
A few minutes later, their craft was no longer a streaking ball of fire. It was now merely falling, rushing toward the ground through pitch blackness. A display curving around Quuru and Ineete showed the virtual topography as though they were approaching the planet in broad daylight.
“Look! There is life!” Quuru said, peering out of the window. “There are faint lights here and there.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s any kind of higher life form. Could just be luminous rocks, other naturally occurring fluorescence, or bioluminescence. I’m actually hoping there isn’t intelligent life here.”
“There’s the big river delta,” Ineete said, indicating the top right. “I’m of the opinion we should land roughly five units southwest of it.”
“I agree; it looks flat. Computer, zoom in on that point.” The display gave the impression of plunging into the map, stopping perhaps a mile above a patchwork of fields. They were different shades of green, their borders as haphazard as cracks in a paving stone. “That spot?”
“Yes.”
“Computer, land us there.”
“Very well.”
The pair remained silent and the roaring vibration gradually subsided.
After a long pause, the computer said, “Commencing propulsive braking.”
The cabin shook with the rhythmic thrumming of the engines. “Our exhaust is as bright as the local star,” Quuru said. “If there is anything living there, they know we’re coming.”
****
Featherstone Farm, near the town of Woking in Surrey, England, was quiet. Night had laid its oppressive hand on every flower, cow, sheep, horse, chicken, dog, and cat, plus the farmers George and Martha Barnard. All were resting and recuperating for another day, according to the timeless circadian rhythm that governed everything.
Still half asleep, the large ginger cat’s ears swiveled forward at a faint, faraway sound. He opened his eyes, instinctively scanning for mice. They had mostly learned to avoid him, but every now and then one unlucky idiot didn’t get the memo, and he would have his sport for the night, followed by a snack. But this was no scratching. The cross members of the small kitchen window were casting a shadow that moved slowly across the floor. He followed them, as the hair on his back stood up. He uttered a low growl and backed up past the hearth, into the corner and away from the light now starting to reflect from the stone floor worn smooth from centuries of use. In his rising panic, he bumped into a broom propped against the wall. As it crashed to the floor, the cat felt like his whole world had exploded. He jumped straight into the air, hissing and scrambling even before he landed again, racing away.
“George dear, something’s going on outside,” Martha said, shaking her husband awake.
“Probably just that damn cat again.” Their border collie, Bess, began to bark loudly, running from her spot on the end of their bed and down the stairs to check on the commotion.
“Go and check on the chickens, it might be another fox.”
“Alright, keep yer ’air on. I’m goin’.” George’s old feet hit the floorboards, and they creaked as he stood up. “It’s ’otter than ’ades tonight, it is. Can’t breathe.” He took a candle on a small china dish from the nightstand and lit it. As he made his way through the flickering shadows of the small, low room, he noticed the cross members of the window casting a moving shadow on the floor. “What the ’eck?” He changed course at the end of the bed, heading for the window instead of the landing. The bright light now illuminated his feet. “What’s that damn racket?” he said, as he reached the window. A faint, low roar echoed across the hilly landscape. Horses whinnied and neighed. George stooped slightly and craned his neck so he could look up. “Bloody ’ell!”
“What is it? George?”
“I fink it be… an angel! That must be it!”
The thundering grew with every passing second. The small lawn, hedgerow, barn, and fields beyond were bathed in a ghostly light. Martha screamed. “George! We’ve got to get out of ’ere! What if it’s the angel of death?”
“There was angels what told of Jesus… maybe it’s them! The Rev would know what to do. I ’hope ’es watchin’ this!”
“I’m frightened, love. I fink we should get out of ’ere!”
“I fink you’re right. No
time to get dressed. We’ve got to run!” George turned around and offered his aging wife his arm.
She grabbed it and pulled herself up and out of bed.
George’s hand shook so badly that he dropped the candle. “Curses and bovver! It’s going to start a fire!”
“No it isn’t, it went out. Let’s go!”
Their feet shuffled across the worn area rug to the top of the stairs, as the room grew ever brighter.
The house began to shake as the first of the blast waves from the descending ship’s engines reached the ground. Plates crashed from the mantle, shattering on the kitchen floor.
“Good God in ’eaven!” Martha coughed, as they reached the bottom step.
“It’s comin’ down out in the pasture!” George half-screamed as pots and pans hanging in the kitchen clattered and banged together in a perverse, cacophonous alarm. Cracks spread across the ancient plaster of the dining room walls as George and Martha made their way through that room. Bess barked up a storm. They rushed through the kitchen, George throwing open the back door as the air was rent by the blast waves. They ran headlong across the muddy gravel in their nightshirts. George flung open the gate into the field beyond, pulling Martha as fast as she could go. She stopped to catch her breath, and turned toward the descending hellfire, holding her arm up to shield her eyes. George yelled something, but the words were sucked from his mouth, stolen by the sheer wall of noise.
The pair ran as fast as their old legs would carry them, as their small holding of land turned to hell on Earth. George tried to catch his breath as his chest shook, and the back of his neck felt like it would burn away. He put his left hand across it to shield it, while Martha clutched his right arm.
Martha tripped and fell. She yelled something, but all George saw was her mouth moving as she wildly pointed across the field, away from the fire. Then George got it: Leave me and save yourself.
“Not as long as there’s breath in my body!” he tried to shout back. He bent to pull Martha to her feet again, but she just laid there clutching her chest. Rocks, fieldstones, and chunks of dirt pelted the ground around them, kicked up as the shock from the massive engines gouged great holes in the ground, blasting debris in all directions. George sank to the ground beside his wife. A tree, halfway between the house and the landing zone, having already been stripped of its leaves, burst into flames. The earth heaved and shook as George prayed that their end would be quick.
And then all was quiet.
The roar echoed and rolled away across the land from Featherstone Farm, leaving frantic neighing and mooing as animals, many with severe burns, pushed and shoved against the fences, trampling each other in panic. The last of the stones clattered down around the old couple as darkness shrouded the landscape once again.
George, prone on the ground, rubbed his right temple and felt warm liquid where a stone had hit him.
“What the bloody hell was that?” Martha screeched from somewhere to his left. “T’weren’t no bloody angel, I can tell you that!”
****
Quuru and Ineete watched the display in front of him, which currently showed the view outside in infrared.
“I see quadrupeds all over the place, herded into these enclosures, so that means there’s at least one dominant species here. We’ll have to be careful. Computer, switch display to visible light.” The screen now displayed the patchwork of fields below and out to the horizon, which were lit up as bright as day by the glare from their engines. They were just over half a mile up and descending rapidly. Ineete pointed to the bottom right of the display. “There’s a structure that doesn’t look natural. It seems they can at least build rudimentary structures.”
“Look closer,” Quuru said. “There are two bipeds running away.”
“So the cultivators are bipedal beings. Interesting.”
“We’ll have to assess things quickly once we land. They’re understandably frightened of the ship, so they’ll be gone and we can probably get away undetected.”
“The quadrupeds are getting away as far away as they can, all gathering in the corner there. We’re going to crush at least one of the dividers between the enclosed areas. Hopefully it won’t pierce the hull.”
“I doubt it would be more than a skin wound. The carbon structure is almost indestructible.”
“Kicking up some dirt now,” Quuru said. “The plant life’s catching fire from the radiant heat. There also seems to be damage to the nearby dwelling, or at least its roof. It seems they don’t yet have advanced building materials.”
“Good. I was hoping not to have to subdue beings from a technologically advanced society.”
“Ground contact in three, two, one. Touchdown,” the computer announced. “Engines off.”
The silence that now enclosed the pair was deafening. They sat still and quiet for a long moment.
“We’re here,” Quuru said, eventually. “We actually made it to the target planet.”
“We crossed a gulf of twenty light years.” Quuru and Ineete formed into snakelike beings and curled around one another and embraced, steadying themselves now that gravity was present, while trees burned fiercely outside.
“I imagine we’re going to have a few spectators very soon,” Quuru said. “Let’s get the remote control and get out of here.”
Quuru and Ineete turned off their auras to stay hidden in the dark. They felt the heat on their bodies and smelled ash and manure as the bottom of the ramp touched the ground. “Let’s go.” The pair rolled out into a war zone, picking up ash on their saggy skin.
“We can use their dwelling as our first hiding place,” Ineete said.
“Yes.” They rolled around tufts of fiery grass to the burning gate, and scaled it by morphing into tentacular forms.
“I’m getting dirty here, and these small stones hurt,” Ineete said.
“Nobody said this was going to be easy.”
Sparks and airborne ash rained down as they headed towards the house, its stone front cracked and windows blown out. Quuru morphed a tentacle and turned the handle of the front door, opening it into darkness that smelled of wood polish.
Bess began to bark up a storm, and then appeared in the kitchen doorway, her fangs bared. Her head cocked at the sight of the aliens.
“An aggressive form of quadruped,” Ineete hissed. She flared up like a cobra, spreading to the size of a bed sheet. Bess turned tail and ran back through the kitchen and out the back door, whimpering. The cat smelled Bess’ fear and squashed herself even further back into the dark corner under the counter, growling, her back and tail one big brush of fur.
“Hopefully there are no others here,” Quuru said. “We need to plan our next move.”
****
Quuru and Ineete began once again to assume a gentle, orange aura.
“I hear voices,” Ineete said. She poked a tentacle cautiously above the sill of the smashed living room window. Quuru followed suit. “Some of the bipeds are coming to investigate.”
“Our strategy here is clear. We’ll use them. In-situ resource utilization won’t be necessary. We’ll infiltrate them and harness their society to our advantage. It’s obviously structured and advanced enough to be of use, though I haven’t sensed any electricity at all yet.”
“Right. But which ones should we inhabit?”
“The ones who fled this place might work. In order for them not to be too frightened to return, we’re going to have to get the ship out of here, and we can’t return to it for food since there are so many of the beings here.”
“Our options are to scuttle it or return it to orbit. I strongly favor the latter. The explosion from scuttling it would be massive and lethal.”
“I agree. That seems our only course of action. We need things to return to normal as soon as possible.”
“The crowd is gradually getting closer. And look—there’s a wheeled vehicle being drawn by quadrupeds and escorted by a large number of the bipeds. We must act now.”
Ineet
e held up a device the size of a matchbook. Pulses of her aura traveled toward it. It glowed the same orange color and she turned her attention outside once more.
The scorched ship began to shake, and a white-hot plume blasted from its underside. The cataclysmic roar echoed out across the countryside as the engines came up to full thrust. The burning remains of nearby trees were vaporized as the massive shockwaves pounded the field. The long vessel began its rise on columns of fire. The spectators scattered, screaming, in all directions and the bridled horses towing the primitive fire truck were left to fend for themselves. Quuru and Ineete watched as their home of nearly 40,000 years rose up, turning the area into day once again.
“We’re on our own now,” Ineete said, sadly. “We could die here.”
“Don’t talk like that. It’ll still be in orbit, and we can easily bring it back if we need to.”
Gradually, the roar from the ascending fire diminished. The ghostly apparition was observed keenly from London, and as far afield as northern France.
The two aliens watched as their vessel became a dwindling flare. They shook and shrank back as an atomic bomb-like flash burst through the atmosphere, illuminating giant banks of cloud like a stroke of lightning.
“What? It can’t be!” Ineete said. They watched in disbelief as a halo of glowing debris expanded around the point where the ship had been moments earlier.
“By Inaka it cannot be!” Quuru cried in utter disbelief. An eternity passed as they watched until an almighty BOOM issued from above. The house tried to stand strong, as it had against so many English winters, but it was no match for the fist of God. The weakened masonry and beams were torn asunder and Quuru and Ineete instinctively morphed into snakes, slithering through the falling timbers and crashing plaster and stones at speed. They fled out into the field behind the house just as George and Martha had done. The animals that were still alive mooed and neighed frantically as they bounded over the remains of their walls and fences, rushing headlong to anywhere that wasn’t home.
Quuru and Ineete reformed into spheres to watch the sky, which was black once again, as the last echoes from the blast faded.
The Cosmic Bullet: The Enigma Series, Part One Page 3