Space Rocks!

by Tom O'Donnell

  After a bit of back-and-forth, we eventually agreed that I—presumably less slimy than a human—would physically operate the device. Hopefully, Nicki could tell me how.

  “I’m assuming this thing uses high-frequency radio waves,” she said. “Those controls over there, they probably move a transmitter somewhere on the surface. Can you ask Ydar?”

  After a bit of pleading (and a few more threats from Hudka thrown in for good measure), Ydar agreed to help us. The humans’ best guess was that additional vessels had met their mothership to assist with repairs and refueling at some midpoint between Gelo and the human lunar base. So we aimed the transmitter at Earth’s moon.

  “They planned on landing tomorrow,” said Hollins, who watched over our shoulders. “So the ship should be pretty close.”

  “When I see my dad,” said Little Gus, “I’m gonna be all like, ‘Hello, Father. When you left, I was but a boy. Now, I am a man.’”

  “When I see our parents,” said Becky, “I’m going to ask them for a car. Straight up. Emotionally, they’re going to be in no position to refuse. I’ll be the only eighth grader with a Ferrari.”

  “Ready?” I said. The humans all nodded. I could see the anticipation on their faces. They missed their parents terribly. “Let’s call.”

  I flicked the switch to begin broadcasting. On the screen now was a sea of rolling static. Hollins spoke into the microphone: “Hello. This is Daniel Hollins, Nicole García, Rebecca García, and Augustus Zaleski of the Nolan-Amaral mining vessel Phryxus. Is anyone out there? Over.”

  “That knob looks like it might adjust the frequency,” said Nicki. “Let’s keep trying channels.”

  Slowly, slowly, I turned the knob, as Hollins repeated his message over and over. Once or twice, the static jumped and almost resolved itself into an image. Each time, I could feel the humans jump with it.

  “Where are they?” whispered Little Gus.

  Just then, a voice crackled over the device.

  “Commander of . . . lan-Amaral mining vessel Phryxus . . . who is . . .”

  “It’s them!” cried Becky.

  “Mom?” said Hollins. “Mom, is that you?”

  “. . . nny . . . is that . . .”

  “We need a stronger signal. How do we boost the power?” asked Nicki. I asked Ydar.

  “Absolutely not. If that device draws more power, it could short out other—”

  “How about I hit your head against that computer until we find the right button?” said Hudka.

  “All right, all right, all right! There’s a little wheel on the side there. But be careful with it, will you? I don’t like the look of your fat, clumsy brips.”

  Despite the apparent fatness of my brips, I managed to slowly nudge the wheel up.

  “Mom,” said Hollins, “I just want to let you know that we’re all safe. We’re with aliens, Mom! But they haven’t hurt us. The Xotonians—that’s what they call themselves—they’re good guys, Mom.”

  “. . . alive! Thank Go . . . aw your SOS . . . safe? . . . back for you . . . your father . . .” the voice crackled.

  “Yes, we’re safe! Can you hear me? We’re safe!”

  Slowly, the static resolved itself into a fuzzy image of an adult human female. It was Commander Hollins. Standing over her shoulder was her husband. They both looked incredibly anxious.

  The audio was still patchy, though: “. . . not receiving any video . . . Hold on . . . m putting this through to . . . e Garcías . . . and Frank Zal . . . ,” said Commander Hollins.

  The image on the screen went black for an instant. Then it came back, now divided into four quadrants. The Hollinses were in the upper left square. The other three squares were each occupied by video feeds: another woman and two other men.

  “Mom! Dad!” cried Nicki and Becky in perfect unison.

  “Hey, Pop!” cried Little Gus. “They have burritos here but they’re not very good, and now I have a pet thyss-cat and I named it ‘Pizza’ and I miss you!”

  All the humans—four juveniles and five parents—began to talk all at once. And cry. Even Becky was crying. There was no dirt in her eyes this time.

  The quality of the transmission was still terrible, though. It was clear that the Phryxus was not receiving any video and only spotty audio. I boosted the power of the signal even further.

  “Does the human leader understand that the juveniles haven’t been harmed?” asked Kalac. “That there is no need to attack us?” I relayed this to Hollins. He nodded.

  “Mom, like I said: We’re safe. You don’t need the soldiers! We’re safe,” said Hollins. “Are you hearing me?”

  I pushed the power up even further. It was at maximum.

  “Hold on, Danny, I think we’re getting visuals now.”

  All five of the adult humans’ faces changed from concern to outright terror. “The alien!” cried Commander Hollins. “Danny, it’s right next to you!”

  The young humans looked confused for a moment. Everyone—including me—had forgotten that I was on camera.

  “Oh no, don’t worry, Mrs., er, Commander Hollins,” cried Nicki. “This is just Chorkle! Chorkle’s our friend.”

  “My second-best friend!” said Little Gus.

  Commander Hollins shrieked, “Get away from those children, you—”

  And suddenly the signal went dead. The screen was black.

  “What happened?” cried Becky.

  “Where’s my dad?” asked Little Gus.

  “Does the human leader understand there is no need for an invasion?” asked Kalac.

  “Chorkle, we have to get that signal back!” said Hollins.

  I flicked the broadcast button up and down. I played with the signal strength and the frequency. I even moved the transmitter on the surface, tweaking its direction. Nothing changed. The screen was dead.

  Everyone waited in quiet anticipation. After a long moment, I heard a soft sound coming from behind me. It was Ydar, sobbing.

  “Now that console really is out of order,” it said pitifully.

  “High Observer Ydar,” said one of the other Observers, sitting at its workstation across the chamber.

  “What is it, Ghillen? And please don’t give me any bad news. We’ve just lost a console, thanks to these barbarians.”

  “I’ve just detected a massive power surge,” said Ghillen.

  “You see? You see?!” cried Ydar at me, suddenly furious. “You see what you’ve done? You and these awful two-eyed monsters. You’ve used too much power! You’ve blown out my entire system! By Jalasu Jhuk and all the lieutenants, I curse your—”

  “No,” said Ghillen. Its screen now showed several little red triangles moving toward a big blue circle.

  “I mean that I’ve detected a power surge in high Gelo orbit. Now I’m seeing . . . ships. Eleven ships. Bearing toward us. Fast.”

  “It’s the humans,” said Kalac. “They’re here with their soldiers!”

  “Negative,” said Ghillen.

  “What?” I said.

  “The ships—the ships don’t appear to be human. . . .”

  “What are you saying?” said Kalac.

  “I don’t really know what to make of this, but if our manuals are correct—well, the power surge is consistent with . . .” Ghillen trailed off, its voice filled with terror and uncertainty.

  “Spit it out,” said Kalac.

  “A hyperdrive field,” said Ghillen. “Faster-than-light travel.”

  “Impossible,” said Ydar.

  “It’s not impossible,” said Hudka. “It’s the Vorem.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  “Do you honestly expect me to believe that we’re under attack by a veth-time story invented to scare our offspring into cleaning their chambers?” shrieked Ydar, its voice a mixture of contempt and fear. “Perhaps next you’ll tell
me that you’ve found the shugg that lays the x’yzoth crystal egg!”

  “See that big triangle on the screen there?” said Hudka, pointing to Ghillen’s monitor. “That’s the battle cruiser. Just like I saw when I was a kid. And those little ones around it? Those’d be Vorem triremes. A cruiser can generate a hyperdrive field large enough to bring triremes with it. “

  “Look, I know you’re older than space-dirt, but have you completely lost your mind?” cried Ydar. “Ghillen, check those readings again. I’m sure what we detected was simply a solar flare or some sort of malfunc—”

  “High Observer, we’re receiving an incoming transmission,” said Ghillen.

  “What?” squealed Ydar. “Don’t answer it.”

  “They’re overriding our—”

  Suddenly, the dark screen in front of me came to life once more.

  On it was a person—a creature?—covered in sharp, segmented black armor. This armored being sat in a big black chair, aboard a black ship. The dim red lights of computer consoles pulsated in the background.

  “Greetings, Xotonian cowards,” it said in oddly accented but perfect Xotonian.

  “That’s not my dad,” whispered Little Gus.

  “My name is Stentorus Sovyrius Ridian, archon of the Vorem Dominion, general of the Forty-Third Fleet. Humble servant of His Majesty Phaebus Onesius Aetox XXIII, the most glorious imperator of a thousand worlds.”

  All the thoughts drained from my mind. I was face-to-face with a nightmare come to life. The deep, imperious voice. The chitinous armor. Truly, our legends did not do the Vorem justice.

  I stood frozen and unable to speak for several seconds, until Kalac stepped in front of the camera.

  “Greetings, General Ridian,” said Kalac. “I am Kalac, Chief of the Xotonian Council. We welcome you to Gelo.”

  “So this is the fabled Sanctum,” said Ridian. “I will admit, I was expecting something more impressive.”

  “Why have you come here, General?” said Kalac.

  “You have something that belongs to us, of course,” said Ridian. “We want it back.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” said Kalac. “But we will be happy to make any reasonable accommodations—”

  “You know exactly what I mean. We demand the Q-sik.”

  I felt the bottom fall out of my z’iuk. How could this Vorem know about the Q-sik?

  “I know of no such thing,” said Kalac.

  “I beg to differ. We recently detected an energy spike in this isolated solar system, near this dead, red planet,” said Ridian, gesturing toward T’utzuxe. “According to my scientists, the unique properties of this particular spike prove with absolute certainty that it could only have come from one source: the ancient Q-sik. The so-called Universe Ender.”

  “Again,” said Kalac, “if you would tell me what this ‘Q-sik’ is, then perhaps we could—”

  “You’re trying my patience, Kalac,” said Ridian. “We know the Q-sik is here. You have two options. You can turn it over to us and remain unharmed. Or I can destroy your world with the push of a button. Rest assured, I have the power.”

  “And why should we give it to you?” cried Hudka, stepping in front of the screen. “The Q-sik is a Xotonian artifact! It’s got nothing to do with the Vorem.”

  “Now we are getting somewhere,” said Ridian. “At last I speak to one who acknowledges the truth. Or part of the truth, anyway. The Q-sik is not Xotonian. The idea that your little people could create a device of such power is truly risible.”

  What was Ridian saying? Of course the Q-sik was Xotonian! How could it not be? It had sat inside the Vault in Core-of-Rock for ages, ever since Jalasu Jhuk had first put it there in the Time of Legends. . . .

  “What is all this guano you’re talking?” said Hudka.

  “Are you telling me that you honestly don’t know? Astonishing,” laughed Ridian, a thoroughly unpleasant sound. “Well, I suppose that at this point, I lose nothing by explaining. It will help you appreciate the magnitude of my achievement.

  “Long ago, a spy for the so-called League of Free Civilizations—a Xotonian starship captain called Jalasu Jhuk—managed to steal the Q-sik from the Vorem Dominion. We conquered Jhuk’s homeworld, but it nevertheless managed to elude us and hide the device somewhere in the vastness of the universe. Your asteroid is that somewhere.”

  All the Xotonians in the room were dumbstruck. Could Ridian really be telling the truth? Was our Great Progenitor actually an agent for something called the League of Free Civilizations? Jhuk’s holographic recording had mentioned a league, but . . . what was it?

  “Bah,” cried Hudka. “Now I know you’re lying. You never conquered Gelo.”

  “Have you been hiding in your little hole for so long that you’ve actually forgotten who you are? Why you’re here? Surely you realize that this asteroid, this space rock, is not your true home.”

  Hudka said nothing. Our legends had it that Jalasu Jhuk traveled the stars. We’d never stopped to consider that Jhuk might have come from somewhere else first.

  “Brilliant,” mused Ridian. “The Sanctum must have been deliberately isolated from the rest of the universe, the better to conceal its existence. I’d wager you don’t even have space travel, do you?”

  Again, Hudka said nothing.

  “You don’t,” said Ridian. “You’ve been completely cut off. Hiding in the darkness here through the long years, while history marched onward. All the more impressive then that I, alone, have found you at last. And as an added bonus, this solar system contains another fully populated world, as yet unconquered by the Dominion. It will be ours as well.” He meant Eo.

  “So why do you need the Q-sik?” I blurted out, surprising even myself.

  Ridian stared at me for a moment. “Why does this child address me?”

  “Kid makes a fair point,” said Hudka. “If the Dominion is so tough—conquered all these planets, blah, blah, blah—then what’s one more weapon to you? Who cares?”

  “Because there are still a few deluded insurgents out there, hiding on scattered worlds, who refuse to accept Dominion rule. Rest assured, the imperator could crush them at his leisure. History shows that we have done so countless times before. But our sovereign is most compassionate. He wishes to conquer them without a regrettable loss of life. When we have the fabled Q-sik, all will give up hope of resisting us.”

  “And you guys spent thousands of years looking for this thing?” I said. “Why don’t you just make another one?”

  “I have no reason to answer more of your questions,” said Ridian. “In fact, they are beginning to annoy me.”

  “You can’t. Can you?” I said.

  “How dare you question the power of the—”

  “You’re just like us,” I said. “You don’t understand how the Q-sik works either. If you did, you could just create a new one. But you don’t, so you can’t. The Q-sik might not be ours, but it’s not yours either. I know that now.”

  “Regardless,” said Ridian, “we will take it from you. Again, I repeat my offer: Give us the Q-sik, and we will leave you there to enjoy your little lives in peace. If you don’t, I will use my ship’s arsenal of nuclear weapons to knock your little asteroid out of orbit. It will burn to nothing as it falls to the surface of the red planet. You have one day to decide. We await your response.”

  “I have an answer to your question, Ridian,” said Hudka. “We know why we’re here: to keep the Q-sik from the likes of you!”

  “Really? If you had not used the device, we would be searching still,” laughed Ridian. And the screen went dark.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  A silence hung over the Observatory. The screens on the walls now showed visible-light-spectrum feeds of the Vorem flotilla. Ridian’s battle cruiser was a jagged hulk bristling with weapons, somehow blacker than the space around it.
Nearby flitted the smaller, more agile triremes. They practiced sharp military formations and precise astronautic maneuvers. I supposed these demonstrations were meant to terrify us further. Speaking for myself, I was already plenty terrified.

  At last, Little Gus spoke. “So what the heck was that all about? That dude looked, like, super evil.”

  I roughly translated the exchange for the humans.

  “So these Vorem plan to attack Earth as well,” said Hollins grimly.

  I nodded.

  “And by the looks of it,” said Nicki, “their weapons are far beyond anything we have back home. I wonder if Earth could hold them off for five minutes. I mean, they have faster-than-light travel. That’s crazy. . . .” She trailed off as she noticed everyone staring at her. “You know . . . thinking out loud,” she shrugged.

  “What did he mean when he said you had ‘used the device’?” asked Becky.

  I sighed. I didn’t want to tell them, but they needed to know. “We—we fired the Q-sik to destroy the tunnels underneath your mothership. That’s what caused the asteroid-quake.”

  “You mean . . . you used it on us?” she said. “We could have all died, you know. We almost did.” I could see pain growing in her eyes. “Why didn’t you at least try talking to us first?”

  “Some of us wanted to,” I gestured to Hudka. “But we held a vote, and the majority of Xotonians decided on a—a different plan.”

  “Well, then the majority of Xotonians are no better than that creep in the armor!” she snapped.

  “You might be right,” I said.

  “Chorkle, I know this may not be the best time,” said Hollins, “but we need to get back into contact with my mom, with the Phryxus. We have to warn them that these Vorem guys are here now.”

  I asked Ghillen.

  “Negative,” said Ghillen, shaking its head. “The Vorem are somehow jamming all external communications. It looks like the only outgoing call we can make is to Ridian’s battle cruiser.”