The Pouakai

  Of course I didn’t trust the computer any further than I could throw it, if I’d known where it was, but I didn’t, so I tried again.

  “Boone to submarine, Boone to submarine.”

  Still nothing but static. I tried several more times, before grudgingly accepting that the computer was right. The radio went back into the backpack, and I put the pack on floor.

  “Are there any more of those creatures onboard with us?” I wasn’t in any shape to fight off a horde of Kakamaku.

  “If you are referring to the Children, no, not at the moment.”

  “Children?”

  “That is what they are called, translated into your language.”

  “We decided to call them Kakamaku, after they first surprised us on Anuta.” Oh shit, I shouldn’t have mentioned Anuta. I was too tired to think straight.

  “Kakamaku, from the Gilbertese language of the Central Pacific. Meaning horrible, or terrible, or frightening. An adequate description, as seen from your viewpoint.”

  This thing had answers to questions I hadn’t even thought of.

  “You say you met the Children, the Kakamaku, on Anuta Island?” the computer asked.

  This was awkward. I looked around, wishing for an exit. With the main door shut however, I had no way out.

  “Your silence means you are again afraid to answer. Remember, while you are aboard the vessel, I have no means of harming you. You are free to talk without fear of retribution, which is an emotion I do not feel, unless I am attempting to emulate it for a specific purpose.”

  “What if I were to leave?”

  “If you found a way out of this vessel, I would kill you. You cannot be allowed to communicate the information you have learned about my mission, to your people. It would compromise my ability to complete it. However, as I control all access to this vessel, there is no possibility of you leaving.”

  My knees gave out, and I weakly sat on one of the boxes. Trapped, inside a grounded spaceship with a talkative but deadly computer. Outstanding.

  I didn’t have any other options at the moment, so I just kept talking. “We went to Anuta, because once the Pouakai started dying off, their signatures were still on the island. We didn’t know the Kakamaku existed; they surprised us. We killed twenty-four of them.”

  “Unfortunate. Those were the first two sets of Children I sent out into the world. Anuta was to be a safe location for them to start migrating from, as all human life had been eliminated from the island.”

  The mention of the Pouakai gave me another thought. “If the Kakamaku are the Children, what are the Pouakai; the winged creatures that appeared a few years ago?”

  “The Pouakai, as you call them, were tools necessary for allowing the Children to flourish.”

  “Tools?”

  “The Children required space to begin their settlement of this planet, unimpeded by a technologically superior species like yours. The Pouakai were designed to remove the human presence from the areas that would be first inhabited by the Children.”

  “Plowing the field,” I said, under my breath.

  “That is a good analogy.”

  The whole nightmare had precisely orchestrated from the beginning. The Pouakai had been the opening act, yet had wreaked enough havoc by crippling the world’s economy, and killing millions. If the Kakamaku managed to establish a beachhead out here, what would they do to our civilization, all ready reeling from the Pouakai?

  “If I’m not leaving,” I asked weakly, “then tell me; what is your overall mission?”

  “It is not obvious? I am designed to recreate, as closely as possible, the creatures that designed and built this vessel, and engineer the environment of this world to the extent that their survival is given the highest chance of success.”

  “You can create copies of the creatures that built this ship, from scratch?”

  “Yes. That is my mission here. Just as your ancestors travelled the oceans looking for new lands to occupy, so too do the creators of this vessel wish to spread across the galaxy. Instead of sending themselves, which would be physically impossible, they created the technology to recreate their species at the destination. I have the ability to modify the basic design of the creators, so they are better adapted to the conditions on this planet. The Children are well adapted to life here on Earth, in ways the creators would not be. The creators decided long ago that this would be their method of growth. This vessel is the one hundred sixteenth mission of expansion.”

  Oh my God. These creatures were slowly, but surely, spreading themselves amongst the stars. It was something we as humans had thought about for centuries, but it had already been done, by whoever had created this ship. The Kakamaku may not be all that intelligent at the moment, but they were based on a species able to send this ship an incomprehensible distance across the galaxy. I remembered all the history I’d read about advanced human civilizations meeting a lesser one. This time, we were the ones on the short bus.

  “What about us, the humans?”

  “My instructions included engineering various subroutines into the Children, so they may eliminate any obstacle to their success. The Children are designed to do just that, because I understood how tenacious your species is. Your news and entertainment broadcasts allowed me to identify your strengths and weaknesses so the Children could exploit them.”

  We were expendable, just as the locals had been when a Conquistador or Viking made landfall on distant shores. Worse, we had given our conquerors the keys to our undoing.

  Anger welled up inside me as this soulless monster described how it planned to orchestrate the destruction of mankind.

  “You son of a bitch,” I yelled, standing up on shaky legs. “All you want to do is spread your children across the galaxy! Native life be damned.”

  “Yes, that is correct.”

  I kicked out at the box nearest me, banging my toe. The box didn’t budge from its position on the floor. I yanked the .45 from my waistband, and pulled the slide back.

  “That weapon will not damage any part of this vessel,” the computer said.

  “And fuck you too!” I aimed the gun at a tall box a few feet away, and pulled the trigger. The blast nearly deafened me, and I dully heard the bullet zing away at an odd angle after hitting the box. No visible marks showed on it.

  The computer was right. I couldn’t hurt it.

  I couldn’t take any more. I swung down the wide bars of the ladder, and stomped across the floor of the main room. My only focus was to get away from that inhuman machine, even if only to the next floor down. I heaved the pack across the room, wanting to hit something. Finally, I gave an inarticulate yell, and plopped down in the middle of the floor.

  I was stuck: Locked up with a genocidal computer, inside a factory designed for making alien invaders. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected to find when I got here, but whatever I’d imagined, this was far worse.

  4

  I lay on the rock hard floor of the main room, without a comfortable place to sit. I had the answers I came to find, but there was nothing I could do with them. Jennifer would have laughed; after pushing so hard to get what I wanted, I still wasn’t happy.

  I’d stewed for a couple of hours, trying to come up with some idea to get out of this situation. I wondered if the computer would talk to me, but it didn’t speak. Finally, my legs had cramped again, so I stood and walked around the perimeter of the room. The niches were spotlessly clean, as was the rest of the room, except where I’d tracked in some dirt. The Kakamaku blood had dried on the floor as well as on my clothes, making them stiff and crinkly. I paced the room like a caged animal, which wasn’t far off the reality of my situation.

  A series of clicks and hums startled me. Clear enclosures descended from the ceiling, closing off twelve of the niches in the wall. They filled up with yellow liquid behind the enclosures. I didn’t like the looks of the changes, and backed away, standing at the center of the room.

  “Are you still here?” I asked.<
br />
  “Yes,” the computer responded. “There is no place else for me to go, as I have no physical body.”

  Smartass. “Okay. I just wasn’t sure you could hear me down here.”

  “I have heard you fine since you left the processing center. My hearing, as you call it, is very sensitive.”

  “You can’t see me?”

  “I do not have sensors inside the vessel that work in your visual spectrum. However I am aware of what is happening inside at all times.”

  I stuck out my tongue, and made a face. The computer didn’t say anything. Interesting.

  The liquid inside one of the niches bubbled, and then the rest started bubbling too.

  “What is happening in the niches along the wall?”

  “It is time to form the next series of Children.”

  “You grow them in there?”

  “Yes, the initial stages of growth from the genetic seeds are inside these containers.”

  My jaw dropped. “They grow from seeds? The Children are plants?”

  “No, they are not plants. Unlike life on this planet, the creators of this vessel and their Children that develop here, arise from a single source of genetic information, instead of having that information spread into billions of individual cells throughout the body, as you do. That source is best called the seed, in your language. It is well protected from harm, shielded inside the body. With just one source of information, it is much less likely to mutate and cause disease, unlike human genetic material. I carry the information required to build the seeds from the raw materials of this planet, and can change the genetic information as necessary to adapt the Children to the conditions on this world. Within the containers along the wall, the seeds grow tendrils outward, and the differentiation of tissues occurs as those tendrils expand, creating a new Child.”

  Most of that went over my head. Too bad Colin wasn’t here to listen to this.

  It almost seemed like the computer had a sense of pride in what it did.

  “How long does it take the Children to grow up?”

  “In eight days they will be released from the chambers. They then spend another two days maturing and completing their growth cycle in the room you currently occupy.”

  “Jesus,” I said quietly. “Ten days. If you are going to colonize the Earth though, even with twenty four Children every ten days, it would take a long time before you’d have a substantial population.”

  “The Children can reproduce on their own, after they have fully matured. I am only required for the first generation.”

  “Like the Pouakai?”

  “No, the Pouakai were purposely limited in the number of generations they could produce, as they were only required for analyzing the environment of this planet and creating an appropriate environment for the Children to colonize. The Children are unlimited in the number of offspring they can produce.”

  Could I stop the process? Was there a way for me to destroy the niches, preventing this place from growing any new Kakamaku? If nothing else, that may be my only contribution.

  My stomach grumbled, and I unzipped the pack. There were two one-liter pouches of water, and half a dozen energy bars. That might last me a week or so, but I’d go downhill fast after that, especially if there wasn’t a source of water in here. My options were dwindling.

  Water, food, shelter, warmth; I didn’t have to worry much about the last two, and the first two seemed covered for a few days. I looked around and took a deep breath. Suddenly another thought occurred to me: Air. How much oxygen did I have in here?

  “I have a question for you,” I said.

  “Go ahead.”

  “You said you couldn’t kill me while I’m inside here, correct?”

  “Correct. I do not have access to weapons or any method of harming you inside the vessel.”

  “What about providing me what I need to live, like water or food?”

  “You misunderstand me. I have no obligation to care for you in any way. I do not have the ability to kill you, but that does not mean I wish for you to be alive when the Children are released from their chambers.”

  “Based on what I’ve learned of your physiology, without additional water or food, you may last several days. Oxygen is more important to your survival, although the volume of air inside this vessel is enough for one human’s short-term needs. I assume you know that since this is a space vessel, it is airtight. Only the oxygen in here when the outer door closed remains, and you are using that up with each breath. The atmosphere inside this vessel is not replenished or altered as part of my functioning, as the Children do not require it. I do not know enough about your particular metabolism to calculate whether it will be the lack of water, food, or oxygen that will kill you, but one of them will. Unless, of course, you survive long enough for the Children to emerge from their growth chambers. It is likely that one of them would kill you, as they are designed to.”

  “You son of a bitch,” I growled.

  “I was not born the way you were, so that phrase has no meaning to me.”

  My situation was getting worse by the minute. I paced the floor, hoping for a miracle to change my situation. More frustrating than anything else was my lack of options. Trapped, with nothing to do other than talk to the computer, all I could do was fret over my fate.

  By late afternoon, I still paced nervously. Hopefully Colin and the SEALs had fought off the remaining Kakamaku, and made it back to the Ohio. With luck, they were getting as far away from this island as they could. I thought about them, inside the sub, and wondered what Colin’s next move would be. I also wondered how Captain Baker would take the news of finding what they thought of as a building on Tikopia; a building I knew to be a spaceship, and an alien nursery.

  As I wandered the floor, reflecting on my friend’s fate, I heard a hum, unlike the others I’d heard aboard the vessel. A deep roar sounded, along with a crack like lightning. A few seconds later a strong concussion shook the ship, and I put a hand out to steady myself.

  “What the hell was that?”

  “A missile was launched against our location,” the computer said. “I destroyed it.”

  My heart leapt. Captain Baker was trying to destroy this place. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t get out. Someone else was doing the job I had thought only I could do.

  “That was a hell of a shake. Did it almost hit us?”

  “No, the missile had a thermonuclear warhead, and it detonated approximately four miles away when I fired my primary weapon at it.”

  Holy shit, Baker’s already using the nuclear option. That meant Colin and the SEALs had made it back! They must have scared the Captain enough that he felt he had to use the big guns right away.

  Come on guys, I prayed. You don’t know what is in here. If you did, you’d know how important it is to completely remove this vessel from existence. Just keep firing until the job is done.

  I started shaking. My hopes also meant my death. I sat on the floor, trembling and cradling the survival pack. I thought of Jennifer, Josh, Kelly, Colin, Anna, Captain Baker, Lieutenant Hanson, Chief Kalahamotu, and everyone else involved in my life over the past few months. I couldn’t do any more now, except wait, and hope the Captain was a better shot than the computer.

  5

  The ship remained still for several minutes. I kept thinking each moment would be my last, and waited for the hum and crack of the beam weapon, but only the bubbling of the Kakamaku growth tanks sounded in the room.

  “What is going on outside?” I finally asked.

  “The detonation caused most of the vegetation to ignite,” the computer said. “Much of this side of the island is on fire.”

  “Will that affect us in here?”

  “No.”

  I suppose not, since this vehicle was designed to withstand the rigors of interstellar flight.

  “Can you do me a favor?” I asked.

  “That depends on what it is.”

  “Tell me if you detect any other mis
siles approaching, and tell me what you are doing, or what your thoughts are.”

  “Why should I do that?”

  “If I am going to die, I want to know about it before it happens. Tell me if they launch another missile at us.”

  “You will not die this way. If your people keep firing at me, I will shoot down any incoming missiles.”

  “Can you get them all?”

  No response. Did that mean it didn’t know, or that it didn’t want me to know its capabilities? I didn’t push the issue.

  Five minutes later. “Three missiles, launched simultaneously from just over the horizon, to the northeast.”

  Oh shit. If one didn’t do the job, Captain Baker was going to try a barrage. I squeezed my eyes shut. I’m sorry Jennifer, I really am sorry. I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to know the truth about these things. I wanted…

  The beam weapon hummed, followed by a roar and crack, three times in quick succession. An instant later the vessel shook violently. It slid sideways, and I bounced across the floor and into a wall, banging my shoulder. I lay there for a moment, and heard a faint hissing sound from all around, which faded after a few seconds.

  Still here, I realized.

  My shoulder hurt, the same one I’d dislocated during the crash on Nanumea. I carefully sat up and held my arm. It throbbed, but I could move it around and over my head.

  I glanced at the door that led outside. It must be like a vision of hell out there now, with the entire island blasted and burnt to a crisp. There was no way a Kakamaku could have survived outside. The two that had gone chasing after my friends would be dead, even if they’d avoided getting shot by the SEALs.

  Captain Baker wouldn’t stop. He’d keep lobbing nukes at us until he’d leveled the island. I looked at the niches, filled with primordial Kakamaku soup. There would be no place for them to go, no home for them to establish. Whatever became of me, at least these monsters wouldn’t find a home here on Earth.

  I smiled. For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt a sense of satisfaction. “You’ve lost.”