by Mars Dorian
“Something along these lines.”
Tavio knelt and paid attention to the HUD user interface of his helmet. It showed a 55.3% dose of oxygen left, which meant he would have a standard day and a half left before he’d choke inside an alien chamber. Reasons to worry, but Tavio had come too far to cave in. He had survived the orbital front lines of the Colony War and lived long enough to tell the story. He wasn’t going to die on some exoplanet without fulfilling his purpose.
Tavio closed his eyes and recited an adequate line from the Liquid Lancer. ‘Where the brain goes, the body follows. Perception comes before action. The right action follows the right perspective.’
But what was the right perspective? Tavio knew the new priority was to get his team out of here alive, but with no weapons and no plan, the venture seemed to be doomed straight from the start.
Tavio cursed at himself in silence.
A man with his experience should have known the right move, but even during the worst times of the Colony War, he had dealt with humans. And they acted in predictable ways, no matter which colony they had originated from. The life form on the other side acted without reason. But maybe this challenge was the opportunity.
39
Tavio decided to be proactive. He inspected every part of the chamber and noticed slight changes in the wall plating. Some surface cells shifted for unknown reasons while the rounded corners of the ceiling swapped. It made no sense until one idea popped into Tavio’s mind. “They’re watching us.”
Bellrog nosed up from his bench. “Eh?”
“They’ve been watching us since the second they put us here.”
Dr. Eriksun stopped her interior design inspection. “What for?”
“Maybe they want to see how we react in unknown situations.”
Bellrog’s massive eyebrows furrowed. “Like lab rats?”
Ideas whirled around Tavio’s mind. His curiosity had fired up dozens of scenarios, ranging from unlikely to downright crazy. “Think about it. They have sent a signal to our satellites and used a single English word. Which means they have studied us and know at least parts of our society.”
Who knew how long they’ve been watching humanity—it could have been years, decades, maybe centuries. And they waited for this specific point in time to make the first step. The longer Tavio thought about it, the faster it made sense.
“Then why did they attack us?” Bellrog said.
That part still puzzled the captain. The actions of the alien contradicted themselves.
“There’s something we’re missing, but the doctor was right—if they wanted to kill us, they would have done so a long time ago.” He tried to declutter his own mind. “Maybe they’re conflicted… like us?”
“Speak for yourself, sir,” Bellrog mumbled under his breath. “Inner conflict is for first world settlers who are divorced from reality.”
Eriksun rolled her eyes. A gesture she seemed to exclusively reserve for the Martian. “The universe doesn’t work like you, Sergeant.”
“No beef. We’re slowly but surely solving this puzzle.”
Tavio marched toward the force field again. “If they did study us, they are likely to speak more than one word. They may be fluent in English.”
He raised his chin and talked toward the barrier, hoping some kind of listening device would pick up. “I’m Captain Alterra of the SAS Moonshot from the Solar Alliance.”
First, he feared sounding like a crazy man talking to himself. But then he realized he was stranded on an exoplanet, trapped inside a glowing chamber built by an advanced alien civilization.
“I believe we’ve had a little misunderstanding. We received your signal and traveled to your planet to make first contact.”
He paused and focused on the ceiling. If the alien used some kind of public announcement system, it was likely to be embedded into the wall structure. Tavio raised his arms and opened his palms. “We come in peace and mean no harm.”
Pause.
“Can you hear me?”
Tavio awaited their answer. His crew members watched him with rising curiosity. Apart from the faint humming of the energy barrier, silence dominated the area.
Please, give me a signal. Anything.
Bellrog broke the mood. “Wake me when it works.”
Sixty seconds of waiting, and Tavio had to agree with the soldier. He turned away from the force field and began to formulate a plan B when the unbelievable happened.
The energy barrier disappeared.
40
Tavio couldn’t believe his eyes. “Tell me I’m not tripping here.”
“You’re not,” Dr. Eriksun said as she stepped closer. “The force field has vanished.”
Bellrog shot up from his bench. “Careful, sir. Could be another trap.”
Possible, but Tavio’s curiosity won over. He advanced toward the mark on the ground where the energy barrier had shone and extended his arm. Instead of touching the force field, his armored fingers swished the air. “Nothing. Null. Nada.”
He tiptoed into the freed-up corridor where an intersection of three pathways awaited him. The ones to his left and right hummed with force fields. “Only one way forward.”
“They’re playing us,” Bellrog said. “Like rats in the maze.”
Maybe, but playing still meant interaction. And Tavio chose to play. The only way forward led to a wall opposite their chamber. Tavio experienced yet another puzzling moment from his alien captors but wanted to solve the mystery. He raised his arms and gestured the universal ‘I come in peace’.
“Can you understand me?” he said to no one in particular.
“Do not worry, son of the solar system, she means no harm.”
Tavio turned toward Dr. Eriksun five steps behind him. Her voice sounded oddly pitched. “What do you mean?”
“Mean what, sir?”
“Didn’t you just talk to me?”
“About three minutes ago.”
Tavio realized he sounded like a lunatic. He hoped the soldier would verify his experience. “You didn’t hear it either?”
Bellrog shook his helmet. “But I knew a comrade with PTSD who heard voices too. Didn’t end well for the fella.”
“It’s not like that.”
Tavio stepped toward the wall. “Hello?”
He instinctively reached for his ion pistol which was still missing from his holster. No answer echoed back. Both Bellrog and Dr. Eriksun waited inside the chamber and eyed their captain with worrying eyes.
“I swear someone or something just talked to me.”
Tavio closed his eyes and swallowed. He tuned out the visual distraction and realized someone had pinged him on the comlink. “She is here among you. Farther, a connection is inbound.”
Tavio shook his head. “Same voice again.”
Flabbergasted faces from his crew.
“We go left,” he ordered.
The trio walked up the corridor. Tavio couldn’t identify the source of the light, but it seemed to emanate from the pathway’s surface and walls themselves. Maybe they consisted of nano-plated technology that could deflect photons. “Yes, yes. Forward, friend. Fear is futile. She knows no harm.”
A bodiless voice with broken grammar didn’t inspire trust, but he didn’t have any other option. “Where are you?”
“Who?” Dr. Eriksun asked.
Parts of the wall glowed. One hexagon-shaped plate after another disappeared until the whole wall became transparent. The new chamber resembled Tavio’s former ‘cell’, except for one difference; a skinny figure seemed to emerge from the glistening walls. The being appeared vaguely human, albeit taller and more slender with long, upgraded arms like a humanoid mantis. A cybernetic pattern graced its delicate skin like a silver tattoo. The signature ran throughout the legs, arms, and parts of the triangular head, which resembled that of a cat’s face shape. The creature had oval-shaped, dark eyes and no mouth. Something about the life form felt elfin and feminine. The angelic appearance enamored
the captain. He almost forgot how to speak. Almost. “Is that you? Did you speak to me?”
The second Tavio stepped forward, the creature strolled back. “No, no. Too fast. She must reconcile with the process.”
Tavio focused his HUD and realized the creature had used his comm channel to communicate, which meant only he was able to hear her. Tavio opened the channel up to his crew members.
“Hearing it, too, sir,” Bellrog said.
Dr. Eriksun shrieked with surprise. “Oh my dear. It’s happening. We’re making first contact.”
Tavio focused back on the elfin creature and slowed down his moves. He pointed toward his chest plate. “My name is Tavio Alterra, and I’m the captain of the SAS Moonshot.”
He directed his flat palm at the doctor. “This is Dr. Shay Eriksun, our xenologist and chief scientist.”
Tavio turned to his right. “And this is Sergeant Bellrog, our… security guard.”
His choice of label sounded more neutral than soldier or warrior. The cybernetic creature stepped forward and ran her claw-like fingers across Bellrog’s face shield, which clearly annoyed him. Tavio sweated and silently willed the soldier to stay calm. The creature said, “He is the iron walker.”
Tavio couldn’t believe he was talking to a sentient, bipedal life form. And against all worries, she turned out to be quite friendly.
For now.
“What is your name?”
“Name?” she echoed.
The creature tiptoed over to him but kept out of his personal space. Tavio noticed two tiny arms being folded against each side of the alien’s torso. A baby? An upgrade?
“She comes with no name.”
“How fascinating,” Dr. Eriksun said.
“Then what should we call you?”
“Hōshi,” the elfin creature replied. “She likes it. Hōshi flows into her spirit of the eternal star gazer.”
Despite her awkward phrasing, Tavio understood the gist of it. His breath became calm as the tension faded away. Tavio’s worst worry about a hostile life form dissipated, but he still had so many questions. “We came here with a starship. It’s supposed to be orbiting this planet, but we lost contact during our… encounter.”
He paused; Tavio wanted to avoid calling out the confrontation at the valley. “Can you help us reestablish contact?”
The creature inspected his face with apparent curiosity but didn’t reply. Dr. Eriksun stepped forward with care. “Maybe she’s still intimidated by us. Can I try, sir?”
“Go ahead.”
The doctor bowed slightly which seemed more comfortable to the creature than an extended hand. “Hōshi, your command of our language is remarkable. How did you learn it?”
“She watches them. Far, far away; from one system to another.”
“For hour long?”
“Long?”
“I mean—since when?”
“When?”
Lost in translation. Tavio whispered into his comm and faced the doctor. “Maybe she doesn’t understand the concept of the word ‘time’ like we do.”
“Or she has no concept of time.”
Tavio allowed Eriksun to steer the conversation. She was more delicate with her approach, probably due to her heightened empathy. “Hōshi, did you send the signal?”
The creature’s slender body bent forward but the response was delayed. Her body seemed highly bendable and almost looked like plasto-rubber covered with a metal shine. Eriksun changed her word choice. “We—our race has received a distress signal from your planet.”
The creature’s arms flailed. She seemed to dance. “Yes, yes.”
“Wonderful,” Dr. Eriksun said as her rapport with the entity advanced toward the real questions. The doctor winked at Tavio; he froze in position and awaited the next question with burning curiosity.
Dr. Eriksun said, “Hōshi, why did you use our word for ‘help’ in your message?”
41
Bellrog’s statement surprised Tavio with its simplicity.
“Hōshi,” he said and added an elaborate pause. He tried to focus on her leaf-shaped eyes which appeared darker than coal mines on the Northern Stratosphere. “Are you a prisoner?”
“She has to condone for the wrongdoing against the Collective.”
Unbelievable, Tavio thought. Bellrog’s right.
The captain’s initial relief swapped for anxiety. If Hōshi was imprisoned, someone else was in charge. Someone, or something, with far less empathy.
“This isn’t getting any easier, is it?”
Dr. Eriksun seemed too calm for his taste. She acted like a teacher during a mildly uncomfortable field trip. “We’ve just caught a glimpse of their race.”
“I need more than this, Eriksun.”
He returned to the gentle creature swaying around her spot. “Listen, Hōshi. You need to help us make contact with the rest of our crew. Who is in charge of this place?”
“She is not to be faulted. Everything she does is for the good of her kin.”
Another statement that made less and less sense. The creature’s poetic speech began to scratch the captain’s nerves. Hōshi sounded like the flowery version of the Liquid Lancer, colored with too much prose.
“Hōshi, do you understand what I’m trying to say?”
“Sir,” Dr. Eriksun said.
He realized his tone carried attitude, but frustration had started creeping up. His thoughts whirled around like a tornado. Tavio needed to contact Srini and Aidos in space and couldn’t allow this priority to be thwarted by a faulty translation. “Please answer me.”
Hōshi tiptoed backwards with the elegance of a dancer. She moved to the left corner and knelt while wrapping her slender arms around her shins. Her eyes lined up with Tavio’s, but she refused to speak. In a fetal position, she hovered an arm-length over the ground—like a levitation cup in alien shape.
Bellrog grunted next to the captain’s side. “Controls hovertanks but can’t handle an argument.”
“She probably didn’t control anything.”
He faced the ceiling and pretended to speak to an omnipresence, similar to how he had addressed the Moonshot’s AI.
“Can you hear me? I’d like to speak with your Chief Commander.”
No sound, no answer echoed. Worse, Tavio noticed the orange percentage counter of his helmet’s HUD displaying the remaining oxygen. The level had dropped to 24.3%. In the midst of the alien interaction, he had neglected his life support supply. Bad. Tavio went straight captain mode. “Team, what’s your oxygen level?”
“Exactly seventeen point four percent,” Dr. Eriksun said.
“Around twenty eight,” Bellrog added.
Sufficient for a couple of standard hours. Still, the crew’s supplies were destroyed with the APE while the life support backup remained in the dropship many kilometers away from their position. Tavio reassessed the situation. “We need to reestablish contact with the Moonshot and get our supplies.”
“Maybe they’ll let us out for recess,” Bellrog said.
Tavio chose to ignore the remark.
“They dissolved our force field and let us speak to Hōshi. She seems to be a prisoner, but still. We’re advancing.”
Tavio rotated 180 degrees and targeted the main corridor when the energy barrier charged up like an electric mirror. He felt a jolt touching the shield with his gloved fingers. “Perfect worst timing.”
His eyes settled on the floating elfin creature in the corner. She ogled him with her head turned sideways but kept her communication shut down. The captain launched more questions at Hōshi, but she refused to answer. He reviewed the mission status:
Trapped behind a force field inside an alien super structure. Depleting oxygen supply and no contact with the SAS Moonshot. Sulky alien who speaks mind-gibberish.
Tavio realized the real trouble had just begun.
42//Gym, Alliance space station orbiting Venus
Quintan Alterra adapted to the military routine of the Venus spa
ce outpost. Daily workouts in the tech gym, virtual fleet simulations with Rykan and her key lieutenants, and the various tactical and strategic discussions had steeled his military mind. If interstellar war broke out, Quintan was ready.
Sure, he did miss the open wildness of Texas, the thunderous blue skies and the Southern life style, but that homesickness vanished when the cringing memories of his training center rut crept in. It sounded like a petty problem of a first world settler, but nothing drained Quintan’s spirit as much as rotting in classrooms while wasting his precious talent on a group of undedicated snowflakes.
Quintan stacked the weights of his ergo lifting machine and added fifty kilograms. Thanks to muscle enhancements and his recent regeneration, he had the strength of a potent twenty-five year old. During the weight-lifting, he noticed that every member had left the gym. He remained the last idiot pushing his physical boundaries, but pain meant weakness leaving the body. The saying was often used by Chief Director Jackstadt back when he acted like a force to be reckoned with. Quintan hoped that he would never fade into a softened shadow like the former war hero had.
He was about to stack more on the weight machine when a call from Brigadier General Del Rykan pinged his comlink. Quintan released the handle, straightened his back, and wiped the sweat from his buffed-up body. Rykan’s holographic avatar projected into his augmented vision. She looked as if the holographic technology was invented to make her look good.
“Brigadier General, always a pleasure. Any news from the crew?”
He only cared about his brother’s well-being but didn’t want to seem biased. Rykan’s holographic avatar glittered one meter in front of him. At first, Quintan thought the transmission glitched, but he quickly realized Rykan had delayed her response. “Unfortunately not.”
“Nothing? Not a single sign of life?”
Rykan breathed heavily. She seemed more stern than usual with her stiff posture and frosted expression.
Quintan licked his salty lips and pondered her response with rising concern. If Tavio stayed in command of the Moonshot crew, he would have sent another update by now. Which meant he was either trapped or, worse yet, dead.