Border Patrol

by Rod Galindo

  She shrugged. "I only know the Mahabharata. And I've not exactly memorized it."

  One of §9ylÎx's eyes twisted to look toward her companion, who was busy working on the bulbous controls in front of her with delicate, insectoid limbs. "See? Just as I said. Clueless."

  ß7ylÎx cooed.

  "I agree. It's not their fault."

  Don thought of ß7ylÎx as female also, simply due to the creature's mannerisms, but he wasn't certain. He admitted to himself he was assigning human characteristics to beings he had never even known existed before yesterday, and that male and female characteristics probably weren't universal. Or were they?

  "Okay," Adrienne said, suddenly snapping out of her trance and standing up. "The Mahabharata records a global flood occurring at the time of a man named Mana, and that he and his family were the only ones to survive after taking seeds and animals with him to repopulate the Earth."

  "Like Noah?" asked Don.

  "Yes," she replied. "Surprise, your holy book says a lot of same things mine does. And probably a great many others as well."

  §9ylÎx seemed to chuckle. "She's right about that."

  Don sighed. "Brea always believed all those stories were analogies. Parables. Warnings. Stories written down to try to explain things no one could explain, or to control a population, or to scare us into being good people."

  Pearls' hands were on her hips now. "So are the stories true? Did any of them actually happen?"

  §9ylÎx laughed. "We will be here for great many Mji1»¥coys if we start from the beginning and I tell you what I know! We may have time someday. But for now, regarding the deluges of Earth… I witnessed many, many people building boats. They took on board anything and everything they could, including animals and plants. The flood that happened on my watch wasn't exactly global, but it was widespread and devastating. It killed most humans, animals and insects that didn't live in the mountainous regions. But it was nothing truly special; these deluges always happen at the end of ice ages, when the glaciers begin to melt. There have been many of your 'global floods' over the eons. I don't know which flood in particular your ancient texts speak of—it could have been the one that occurred about eleven thousand Earth years ago—but many survivors likely experienced one of these great floods and lived through it, and passed the story on to their children."

  "Many… floods…" whispered Don.

  "Yes," replied §9ylÎx. "Floods, meteor and cometary impacts, the list goes on. Life, especially human life, survives natural disasters due to its resourcefulness. Over and over again. Commander, it was not a natural disaster that nearly destroyed you. It was yourselves. Your violent nature. The Earthlings waged war on the various races of this great galaxy many times. The ØÝ*)(*ÝØ Council nearly ordered your complete extinction—yes, genocide—not merely the destruction of your military might. But the populace of the galaxy spoke out against it, and leaders of all the countries and kingdoms of Earth pleaded for mercy. The Council offered the human race a deal. The humans didn't like it, but in the end your leaders agreed that it was better than the alternative."

  "What was the deal?" asked Adrienne.

  "The deal was to drastically shorten the human life span. It was believed that if the troublesome humans didn't live so long, they would not have time to grow so jaded, so… heartless. Not enough time to stay focused and build armadas that could reach the stars. Never reach other civilizations they could dominate, enslave, and steal their lands. No time to do much beyond worry about their own meager existence on their own tiny world. And it has proven to work, for over ten thousand Earth years. It was a good choice for all involved, even the humans." §9ylÎx's mandibles curled, resembling a smile. "For even existing only half a »¥coy is better than not ever existing at all."

  More chirping and gurgling.

  "Commander Bouchard. ß7y wants to know something, and so do I. Why did you come out here? What made you come?"

  "Nothing made us. We just wanted to know what's out here. I guess humans are curious by nature. Another of our less-than-desirable traits, I imagine."

  "Curiosity isn't undesirable. Don't ever think such a thing. We admire your curiosity, and your bravery to do what it takes to discover new things. Speaking of which, this was a one-way trip, wasn't it? You never intended on going home, did you?"

  Bouchard paused before answering. "No. We couldn't have turned around if you had demanded it. Our ship wasn't built to do so."

  §9ylÎx nodded. "So what was your mission?"

  "To put it simply, to reach interstellar space and report our findings back to Earth."

  "And that's it? You weren't looking for a wayward space probe by any chance, were you?"

  "Well, that was a secondary mission. That's why we chose this particular route out of the solar system. We haven't heard from it in about a hundred and fifty years. We had hoped to repair it and release it back on its original trajectory."

  Don could have sworn §9ylÎx smiled. "In that case," she said, standing from her chair and balancing graciously on four thin legs, "I have something to show you."

  ß7ylÎx chirped.

  "Yes, yes, don't worry."

  "What did she say?" asked Pearls.

  All of §9ylÎx eyes darted in Adrienne's direction. "She?" She smiled. "You're very perceptive for a human."

  Bouchard turned to Perle and muttered, "I knew that."

  NINE

  Don stared at the lone object in the center of the large hangar. "You're kidding me."

  §9ylÎx chirped and cooed. It sounded like pure delight. Standing before them, in all its space-weathered glory, was Voyager 2, illuminated by bright spotlights from somewhere in the depths of the darkness above them.

  "How long have you had it?" asked Pearls.

  "I've had the pattern stored for about one of your centuries, half a »¥coy," said §9ylÎx. "I was with the Border Patrol when they intercepted Voyager 1 in 2012 of your Common Era, right after it crossed the heliopause. Its fate was debated in the Council for several weeks. I argued that if it was destroyed while still transmitting information to Earth, the humans may send an envoy after it to learn what became of it, and hasten another interstellar incident. I knew of your weapons and spacecraft capabilities back in that era better than anyone, and witnessed before the Council that neither you nor the tiny probe were any kind of threat to even a pupas' toy mUu*i, let alone the Federated Worlds. But the treaty was the treaty, the all-coveted Earth-ØÝ*#Îm Pact. It was steadfast in its mandate, and Earth had violated it. Like the two Pioneer spacecraft that came before, the Voyager 1 had to be destroyed as well. And what was right on its heels? A second one! Almost instantly, the same fate was decided for Voyager 2."

  "But," Don interrupted, "NASA briefed us extensively on Voyager 2. They have, on-record, data analyzed by a company in Lawrence, Kansas that dates back to 2027, when it finally went dark."

  "You have me to thank for that," beamed §9ylÎx with pride. "I was able to talk the Council into waiting until 2030 of Earth's Common Era before the order was sent to the Border Patrol to destroy the quaint little craft. Both of them. I told them that waiting just another one-quarter Mji1»¥coy would give the power cells time to completely die—the Earthlings were expecting this, after all—and so the people of Earth would not become suspicious and try to determine why their probe went silent so abruptly. Uninhabited stealth drones shadowed it twenty-five hours a day from 2019 to 2030 by your calendar, just to ease the minds of the masses following it in the news, not to mention the small mind of the Constable. Luckily, I am smarter than him."

  ß7ylÎx chirped loudly.

  §9ylÎx chuckled. "Yes! My smallest claw is smarter than that drone! I was able to trick the Constable into allowing me to perform a facsimile scan just prior to the incineration date. The machine standing before you is a perfect replica from the year 2029, down to the microscopic flaws in the grooves of Mr. Carl Sagan's gold record! And with non-organic matter such as this, our facsimile error rate i
s a solid zero percent!" She stated this last fact with not a small hint of superiority.

  "So," said Adrienne, "she wouldn't have been out there for us to catch and release even if the Constable hadn't shown up."

  "No," said §9ylÎx.

  "I guess that explains why we hadn't picked her up on any sensor or telescope yet," said Don. "I thought perhaps we were simply too far away and Voyager was simply too small."

  "There is light at the end of the tunnel, or at least I have hope that there is," continued §9ylÎx. "When the ØÝ*)(*ÝØ Council makes its decision in your favor—and I suspect they will—I plan to release this little bird back into the sky, with a full compliment of protector drones to ensure its safety from both natural and sentient threats. I've even upgraded those terrible nuclear power cells with a ¥×(*), which you might call a type of 'zero-point energy' device, which will draw energy directly from the vacuum of space. Voyager will broadcast data back to Earth for another half-million of your years! Of course, there's not much to see out here between Sol and the solar system you call Ross 248, but with its improved equipment, it will give your scientists 'something to chew on', as I've heard say. For instance, all of the probe's equipment can now be switched back on with no worry at all of running out of power. Plus I replaced its plasma spectrometer and Cosmic Ray System with devices that can make measurements from 0.007 to 1.3 billion electron volts! I won't go into how big of a pain in the abdomen it was marrying our nano¿~ technology with your antiquated circuit boards."

  Bouchard shook his head. "But why? Why do all this?"

  "Why? This is a beautiful piece of your history!" exclaimed §9ylÎx. "It, along with its sister spacecraft, expanded your understanding of the outer planets of your solar system by an immeasurable factor. It opened innumerable doors to humankind's understanding of the interstellar medium near your star. Don't you want to preserve it?"

  "Well of course. I mean… I guess," he replied. "It just seems kind of pointless now, doesn't it?" Bouchard looked around. "I mean, the Explorer Two is so far advanced from this thing, we could almost fly circles around it. We were only going to refit the old girl just to say we did it. With our ship relaying back to Earth a thousand more measurements than Voyager ever could, and doing so every second of every day, the whole idea was more for space history and nostalgia than anything else. And now we're in a spaceship—no, a starship—that can likely travel faster than light itself, and is probably capable of things I could never dream of! This ancient piece of machinery here is the equivalent of a hand-written note when compared to transmitting data via quantum entanglement!"

  "But even a hand-written note has value, Commander. It allows a being to encode information and transfer that message to another being without the two being present at the same time. A note, by its very nature, assumes an educated society, in which two people understand common encrypted data, which you call 'language', and with this language you can share complex ideas. It may be pointless to repair Voyager from your perspective, perhaps, but what of the people of Earth?"

  "Yes," Don agreed. "What of the people of Earth? We weren't scheduled to rendezvous with this thing—well, not this one, the original—for another couple of years. If you wake it up early, or don't let us continue our mission, guess what's going to happen? As soon as this bird starts sending data that its original instruments were never designed to be able to collect, and lighting up the receivers back on Earth thanks to what, tenfold more wattage than ever before?"

  "Twentyfold!" §9ylÎx interjected.

  Pearls' eyes bulged. "I know some people in Canberra who might have a heart attack…"

  "Twenty times more—" Don shook his head. "As soon as all that starts to happen, don't you think the scientists back on Earth will get suspicious then? It will be worse than if the damn thing had abruptly went silent out of the blue after being shot out of the sky!"

  His last word echoed throughout the large space, and silence filled the large, dark hangar.

  "It won't matter by then," §9ylÎx said.

  "It won't matter? Many of our scientists work for the military," Don added. "If my ancient ancestors were as much trouble as you claim they were, it goes to reason that you people would want to keep humans as scientifically in the dark as possible, lest we build another armada in another few coy-things, and are once again ready for the Border Patrol!"

  "You don't understand." §9ylÎx smiled, or at least Don thought she did. "Even before this most recent incident, we have been watching your society closely. For the past several »¥coys, ß7y and I have submitted a formal report once every Mji1»¥coy. But today we received new instructions. We are to report to the Council on a continual basis, daily if necessary, focusing on any and all significant human advancements. Commander, Ms. Perle, I believe in your species, otherwise you two would not be standing before me. I believe, as does ß7y, that humans have the capability of using science for the betterment of their kind, rather than the detriment of themselves and other species, on Earth and across the galaxy. I believe you can use what you learn to feed everyone on your planet, improve medicine, further education, all the while balancing this with security for all. Some focus in the Art of War is ironically necessary to maintain long-term peace, but pouring the greater amount of your efforts and resources into conquering endeavors is what brought about the treaty in the first place. I do not wish to see another 'deal' made to your detriment, and I especially don't wish to see your world come to harm. I wish we could return you and warn your people that we will be paying close attention. Unfortunately, we no longer can."

  "Why not?" asked Adrienne.

  "We have new guidance now," §9ylÎx replied. "You see, upgrading Voyager and releasing her will not matter, because by the time I do so, the Council will have made its decision, one way or another."

  "Its decision?" Pearls asked.

  "Yes. A decision I plan to be made in your favor."

  Don and Adrienne eyeballed one another.

  "I will explain when we are back on the bridge," said §9ylÎx. "Come. I must check on the progression of the reconstruction project that is occurring in Lab Three."

  TEN

  §9ylÎx climbed into her chair, one Don could never sit in due to the fact it was designed for the comfort of a giant insect, and stared at a colorful display. "Ah! Everything appears fine and on-schedule!" She continued tapping on the holographic "screen" embedded in the large, round console. "Perhaps a few small adjustments…"

  Don leaned over to try to see if he could recognize some of the characters on the display, but from his angle he could only see a few circles. He waited for the alien to explain, but she was silent as her claws danced on the swirling colors. A few seconds later, Bouchard noticed she had turned two of her midnight eyes toward him. He gasped at the realization, and felt as though he had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He drew away.

  "So," said Pearls. "About this decision you spoke of..?"

  §9ylÎx pointed four eyes in their direction and kept working. "I'm both pleased, and admittedly a little terrified, to announce that your presence here has hastened the M_42¤3ØÝ=× decision timeline."

  Don's brow furrowed. "The what?"

  Adrienne shook her head. "What does that mean?"

  "It means the Council is preparing to meet in the coming Mji1»¥coy to determine whether to merely increase patrols, or destroy your kind altogether, once and for all. I'm sorry. We just received the communiqué a few Mji1s ago."

  "Oh." Bouchard muttered. "Great."

  "If it were up to me," §9ylÎx continued, "I'd be willing to give your kind another chance right now. Or at least some members of your species." A claw opened toward them, and she added, "Obviously, or you wouldn't have been brought on board. But it's not up to me, it is up to the ØÝ*)(*ÝØ Council, who oversees the governance of all the Federated Worlds. They're the ones who commissioned the Royal Border Patrol all those »¥coys ago. They're the ones pointing several anti-matter weapons at Ear
th. They're the ones making sure humans never again wreak their destructive nature on the peaceful peoples of this beautiful galaxy."

  Bouchard let out a long breath. "So if the decision is to destroy us…"

  "It won't be," §9ylÎx assured him. "I am confident I can sway the Council's decision in your favor. But, there is a slight chance I will fail. If so, you and your crew, Commander, will be all that's left of the human race. A tiny number, but six humans is not zero humans. The race will survive. As long as I stay one step ahead of the Council and the military, that is."

  Pearls gave Don a dirty look. "Negative Nancy!" She turned back to the alien. "So, if the decision goes our way, I assume the Council will make an announcement that will be heard all over Earth? And remind or inform everyone of the treaty? Then you can come clean and release fake Voyager 2 and let Earth continue to learn from it. Is this correct?"

  "Yes."

  "And you can let us go on with our journey?"

  "Your journey? I'm not certain the Council will allow that, no matter their decision."

  "What about going home?" asked Don.

  "That could be a possibility. There are factors ß7y and I must consider. Do we alert the Council of your existence at that point? Or do we keep you a secret to them and to your own people lest the Council intercepts your news broadcasts and discovers you? Could we hide you among them by changing your appearance? And let you live our your lives on your home world? Would you even want to return after all the wonders I will eventually show you? All these things we must discuss."

  Bouchard fell silent.

  "What exactly is a mil-coy?" asked Pearls. "I'm just curious as to how long Earth may have."

  "A Mji1»¥coy is about half of one of your centuries." §9ylÎx replied.

  "Fifty years!" exclaimed Bouchard. "We'll be dead by then!"

  "Oh, you absolutely will not! And anyway, a decision likely won't take that long. Please know that ß7yl and I will put in a terrific word for the current generation on your behalf. You were prepared to sacrifice yourselves all in the name of acquiring knowledge rather than territory for your people! That is very honorable."