ELEVEN
The jaunt to BS 2 was a piece of cake. I hit the main thrusters and accelerated to ten-Gs. I guessed the pliable Ffffuttoe could stand the pressure and he came through just fine. The trip only took two weeks. Like I said, I leaned on the gas pedal pretty hard. Well before I entered orbit, I could tell BS 2 was very different than BS 3. There was a lot more land compared to water, but it did have large oceans. That wasn't the strange part. The atmosphere showed an oxygen-to-methane ratio highly suggestive of life. But there were lots of weak electronic signals coming from the planet. Could have been lightning, but it was fairly constant and widespread. I didn't know what to make of it. Al was stumped too. He suggested I run it by my newest crew member, gather his insights. I omitted that step.
Once in low orbit, I was stunned. I could see large—I'm talking huge—structures spanning most of the land masses. In some areas, the buildings were confluent, like a mega-city shaped of clay. Other regions had more isolated but almost identical islands of construction. Clearly, there was or had been intelligent life on BS 2. The scale of engineering was immense. The electric surges were most commonly associated with the denser areas of habitation. Maybe they all had microwave ovens. But, there were no radio transmissions, or anything vaguely similar. No aircraft in the skies, no boats on the water, and no vehicles visible on the surface. I didn't see any people-sized objects either. It was like BS 2 was abandoned. Very strange. Very creepy.
Failing a superior plan, I directed my shuttle to the densest area of the building. Might as well land in Times Square, right? “Take me to your leader.” Man, I really hoped I got to say that! Even as I skimmed the surface, I saw no signs of life. I set down in the paved open space nestled amongst the tall buildings. The atmosphere was much less human-friendly than BS 3, but I didn't need to breathe, so I lowered the ramp and stepped into the unknown. It was hard to keep Ffffuttoe from coming along. He kept saying, “Maybe food.” Plus, I think he didn't want to be left alone with Al. He didn't know Al was just a cyberbrat and not a scary monster with arms and legs. But, I prevailed. It took six kilos of rations to entice him to do so, but he remained behind. Probably needed a nap after all that food.
There was a gentle breeze, but no sounds. Not even bugs buzzing around. Some of the odd electric signals were coming from a particular structure, so I headed over. There were clearly entries, but no doors. I just strolled in. The foyer was on the mammoth scale of the buildings themselves. I was reminded of Carlsbad Caverns, but this was much grander. Stairs took off in many directions from multiple starting points. Some rose over one hundred meters before ending in an arched portal. Whoever lived here was in very good shape.
Nothing resembling a room was off the entry, so I ascended the nearest stairway. At the top, a much-scaled-down vestibule led to numerous passages. Soft, uniform artificial light infused the building, but I couldn't determine where it came from. It was eerie. I finally came to what had to be a chamber or room. The room budded out into seats and benches, along with ornate designs on most of the walls. Some fixtures I couldn't identify rose seamlessly from the floor. But, yet again, no signs of occupation. Not even scattered personal items, you know, kids' toys or ball point pens. The place was an OCD's dream home.
I entered several more rooms, all more or less the same. Whoever lived here was most likely humanoid, about my size and shape, based on the seating configuration. I backtracked to the vestibule and arbitrarily chose another hallway to explore. There were several similar rooms, and a few gigantic ones. Meeting halls? Churches? I was baffled. I was beginning to think the race of beings who constructed this facility must be long dead. Then a man with three legs and three arms entered the room.
I froze. At first, he took no note of me. He was two meters tall and wore a long, flowing brown robe. His head was down. Halfway across the room, he jerked his head up and glared at me. Oh boy. I hoped the people of BS 2 loved robots. I expected him to snap at me, to challenge me, but he was silent. His eyes were as penetrating as lasers.
“Hello,” I said meekly. “I come in peace.” Crap, how corny was that?
He relaxed a little and opened his mouth to speak. It took considerable effort at first, but he spoke. What he said, however, was more a high pitch squeal than intelligible words.
“I'm sorry. I don't understand you. Let me see if I can get help with some translation.”
He cleared his throat and, again, with conscious effort, spoke. “T…tt…that will negative be needed.” He looked up, as if listening to the invisible man. Then he continued in a flat, but effortless tone. “Sorry, my guest. It took a moment to adjust our mode of communication. We have accessed your computer systems and gained a working knowledge of your language.”
“I'll say you have! It took, what, three seconds for you to become fluent? That's impressive.”
He looked annoyed. “We care nothing for recognition of achievements, Colonel Ryan. We see you're here on an explorative mission. Your home world is soon to end and you seek relocation. I'm sorry, we can be of no aid. Please leave now. Never return.” With that, he turned to leave. He was genuinely in a huff. Must not get many visitors, at least no repeat ones.
“What,” I said loudly, “just like that?”
Without turning, he said, “Yes, just like that.”
I crossed my arms. “What if I refuse to go?” The moment those words left my mouth, I passed out cold. Maybe I died. It was too sudden to tell. Fade to black.
My eyes popped open. I wasn't dead. My chronometer told me I was out for a few hours. I was lying on a slab—one of the flat upwellings of the floor. As I sat up, I saw the three-armed man seated nearby. He stood and stepped to my side.
“Please, remain seated a while, Colonel Ryan. We've made a few changes to your systems. Let's make sure you're stable before challenging them too much.”
“Changes!” I barked, “I didn't give you permission to make any 'changes.' What…”
He raised a hand to stop me and smiled. “All in good time, my friend. All in good time. It occurred to us that we may have gotten off on the wrong footing. We wish to make amends. We're certain you'll appreciate our gesture, once more is explained to you.”
“Okay. I have nothing but time. First, please call me Jon. The colonel thing is too stuffy.”
He bowed slightly. “As you wish, Jon.” He rested his palm on his chest. “My name was Yibitriander.”
That sure sounded odd. “Was? What, are you dead?”
That drew a bigger smile. “No. Well, not as such. We no longer have need of names. They haven't been germane for a very long time.”
“You're most certainly an enigma wrapped in a mystery, Yibit…Yibi. Hey, can I just call you Yib?”
“Whatever you desire. Yib is fine.”
“And what's with all this 'we?' All I see is one you. Where's the rest of 'we?'”
He swept a hand in a broad arc. “We are everywhere. Our people are many and we are one. We assume you mean to ask where the other corporeal beings are. They are elsewhere, some near, some far. None of that is important.”
“Are you trying to confuse me? Because, if you are, you're doing a bang-up job of it.”
He furrowed his brow and thought briefly. “No. That's not our intent. We're attempting to explain something your mind is unlikely to comprehend. Perhaps it would be best if we dropped the subject.”
“Fine by me.” It hit me that I hadn't heard from Al. That was not possible. He'd be having twelve hissy fits simultaneously by now. “Where's Al? You haven't hurt him, have you?” I stood up.
He held a reassuring hand up. “Perish the thought, Jon. Your ship's AI is perfectly alright.”
I pointed to my head. “Then why'm I not hearing him?”
He twisted his head. “When we first turned you off, your friend Al was most vocal in his protestations. We finally elected to disable his ability to transmit signals.”
“So you shut him up? Good for you! He can be a real pest when he wants
to.”
“Tell us about it! When he realized he was not able to transmit his machinations, he began shouting them through your shuttle's external speaker system. It was intolerable. We quickly disabled that mode also. We'll release him from his isolation shortly. We wish to make certain matters clear to you before you must depart. Al's input would be counterproductive.”
“You got that right!”
“We have a question, first. You carry onboard your vessel Ffffut of the Toe. What are your intentions toward her?”
“He's a she? Wow, I had no idea.” I shook my head. “What do you mean, ‘my intentions’? She insisted on joining me, so I let her.”
“You're not planning on eating her? We could not allow that to happen.”
“You're kidding me, right? You have access to all my thoughts and records. You have to know that's not my intent.”
“We needed to be certain. We have access to all of your computer and their files. All but one. You have a curious biocomputer in your head. Quite an interesting device, actually. We never made such a machine, back when those things mattered to us. We can't be certain we're able to access all of its data. Hence, we must ask.”
“I warned her she would likely die if she came with me. I think she understood me. Her intellectual abilities are kind of limited.”
“Yes. The Toe are an interesting species. In the annals of evolution, there are few examples such as the Toe.”
“You mean developing sentience? We did. You did. They did. Seems sort of commonplace to me.”
“No, you misunderstand. The Toe are the second species to evolve into a thoughtful beings on Practer. That was our name for what you call BS 3. It's most unusual for it to happen twice on one world.”
“I didn't find any other intelligent life on Practer.”
He actually chuckle softly. “You wouldn't have. The Emitonians, as they called themselves, have been extinct a very long time.” He paused, then continued. “They were a species not unlike yours. Almost a million years ago, they destroyed themselves. In their wake, the Toe have independently evolved sentience. Quite remarkable. Someday the Toe will reach out for the stars as your people have.”
“These Emitonians, why did they destroy themselves? Seems counterintuitive.”
“Through their pride and their wars they ended most life on Practer. They finally did the unimaginable and unleashed thousands of fusion bombs against the various factions. Practer was almost sterilized. But, the planet healed itself. Minus the Emitonians, it's a healthy ecosystem once again.”
That accounted for the radiation I found in the water. It leached out from the soil it fell upon eons ago. Those sorry sons of bitches, blowing themselves to kingdom come. Well, come to think of it, we humans are not all that different. Just luckier. So far.
That begged my next question. “If your people know all that, you must have been around for an extremely long time.”
That brought a smirk to his face. “Yes, we have indeed.”
“So, you going to tell me or do I need to ask?”
He straightened up in his seat. “Our people were known as the Deavoriath, when such labels mattered. For millions of years, we owned the stars.” He raised his arm. “We traveled freely between galaxies and stood on countless worlds. We were both loved and hated, welcomed and cursed.” He shook his head sadly. “At some point, we began to think of ourselves as gods. To hundreds of thousands of races, we were.” He looked down. “Now, we are not.” He was silent briefly, then said one summary word. “Folly.”
“Just like that? Come on, Yib, fill in the blanks. You don't go from gods to monks without a very good story.”
He stared at me a good long while. Finally, he spoke, but with clear remorse. “We came to realize our foolish arrogance was improper, perhaps you'd call it inappropriate. In any case, hundreds of thousands of years ago, we left behind all that we possessed and came home, to this planet, Oowaoa. Now, we live in peace and harmony. Our minds are one and our needs are minimal.” A sad smile crossed his face. “We are finally happy. We are complete.”
He didn't sound happy. On the other hand, he was older than dirt from a race older than my sun. Maybe I couldn't understand his emotions. I had to ask. “Will you help us? Will the Deavoriath aid the people of Earth? With your knowledge and your technology, our salvation would for you be child's play.”
Instantly, he replied. “No.”
“You have a moral obligation to help those in need. You must help us.”
“We wish,” he said sternly, “to be left alone. We desire no part of the outside universe. We will neither help nor hinder your race's attempts to save itself.” He looked away. “As to any 'moral obligation,' please know that no such force exists. We're not bound to help. We're not bound to do anything.”
“But if you can help but don't, you'll be responsible for every innocent life lost.”
“In your worldview, perhaps, but not in ours. Your fate isn't in our hands. You chanced to come here. We didn't ask you to come. No bond or bargain exists between us. If you're to survive, you must do it on your own. If you're to perish as the Emitonians, then that's what you'll do.”
“At least give me some help finding where to look for a good planet. Maybe share some of your technology.”
“This we can do. In fact, we already have. We will tell you this much. The next system you plan to explore is not worth your effort. The others are reasonable candidates. As to our technology, we have bestowed upon you, Jon, two gifts. We do this in amends for treating you so poorly when first we met. Though we wish to be apart, we don't wish to be uncivilized.”
He walked over to me and took my left hand. There were tiny black dots at the tips of my four fingers I hadn't noticed until then. They didn't hurt. I actually couldn't feel them.
He touched a dot. “This is an explorer's dream tool. It's a probe. No, it's an interface. No, that's not it either.” He looked muddled. “It's an analytical extension. Yes. That describes it well enough. Here.” He pointed my hand at the seat he recently vacated. “Concentrate on the chair. Ask yourself what the chair is.”
Weird, but okay. I thought to myself chair, what are you. A tangle of spaghetti exploded from my fingers. The fibers seized the chair from a hundred angles. They all looked to be on the surface, none penetrating deeply. A torrent of information streamed into my head. Clay, polymers, plastics, and trace metals. Melting point 1,012 degrees centigrade. A list of solubilities danced though my awareness. Chemical assessments of the dust resting on the chair sprang to life in my mind. Speculation as to the function of the form occurred to me. What a rush!
“There, you see,” said my benefactor. “The tool makes your task much simpler. The tool has other functionalities. May I?” He pointed to the flashlight at my waist. I handed it to him and he tossed it across the room. “Pick it up,” he said. I took a step in that direction. He placed a palm on my chest. “No, with the tool.”
Extending my hand, I said to myself, Pick up the flashlight. The fibers jumped on the light and suspended it two meters off the floor. Bring it to me, I instructed. The fibers retraced and the light flipped into my grasp. “Most cool!”
He looked very serious. “But, a word of caution. It will last thousands of years and needs no maintenance. However, do not allow anyone to study it, to attempt to clone a portion of our technology. For one thing, they'll learn nothing. Our ways are too different. Your species, for example, couldn't understand the technology. Also, if tampered with, the tool will dissipate. It's a gift to you alone. The second gift is more of a necessity. When others see you employ the tool, they'll covet it greatly. Creatures can be so single-minded. We have placed in your other hand a weapon to defend the tool.” He pointed to the chair. “Destroy that object.”
I directed my right index finger at the seat and thought destroy. A tiny beam of light struck the chair and it vaporized. My, now that was a powerful tool.
“You can bore holes with the weapon. What it does d
epends on how you instruct it.” He drew back his shoulders. “Now, you must go. You will not return.”
“I've grown to like you, and I certainly thank you for the gifts. But, you can't honestly believe I'm not going to report every detail you've shared with my superiors. We'll be back. That you can count on. Even if I begged them not to, Oowaoa is too big a prize. The Deavoriath are too big a prize.” I patted my chest. “I'm just being honest with you.”
“We understand and anticipate that fact. Your duty is clear to us. Our solution is simple. Your memory and that of your AI will be wiped of any hint of your time here. You'll record that BS 2 was uninhabitable, but recall few specifics. You'll forget which species gave you the tool, only that someone did, at some point in time.” He pursed his lips. “If and when a scout ship returns to this system, they'll see only what you have reported.” More to himself, he added, “We grew complacent. We stopped watching for potential visitors. That will not happen a second time.”
“You can't disguise an entire planet!”
He smiled. “We walked among the stars and were thought of as gods. I think we can manage that much.”
**********
“Al,” I said matter of factly, “I have a feeling the next system we're supposed to check out'll be a wash. Scrub that portion of the mission and lay in a course for Luhman 16a.”
“Are you certain about that? The extrasolar planet people were quite excited about that system.”
“Call it a hunch.”
“I'm certain they'll be so flattered you overrode their insight with your hunch. You'll probably get two medals.”
“Just plot the course, Al. The sooner we lose this hunk of useless rock, the happier I'll be.”
“Please don't insult poor little BS 2 just because it doesn't meet your lofty standards. I kind of liked it, myself. What with the oceans of lava, unending earthquakes, and an unbelievably toxic atmosphere, it rather reminded me of you.”
The Forever Life (The Forever Series Book 1) Page 9