The Pouakai

by Sperry, David;

  It may be one hell of a long shot, but it was the only plan I had.

  I couldn’t see outside, and had no idea of where the sun was. According to my watch it should have been just after noon in Hawaii, but I wasn’t sure if it had kept time well enough over the past few days. I wanted to do this in daylight, so if my watch was right, I needed to get moving.

  I changed the image displaying so I could see the sun, as well as the Earth. Sure enough, I was on the night side over northern Europe, which meant the Pacific was in daylight. Time to get moving.

  Handling this vessel through the image box was like steering one of my airliners with most of the hydraulics shut off; slow and awkward. I had no way to tell exactly how fast I moved, or if I might run into a piece of orbiting space debris. I missed the detailed information I got while flying, but I knew if my experience flying airplanes allowed me to herd this vessel through space, I was up to the job.

  “You will not make it to your destination,” the computer said, surprising me.

  “You’ve been wrong before, and I’m betting you’re wrong again.”

  “I am not programmed to bet.”

  “That’s why you’re going to lose.”

  I hoped that would shut it up. I needed to concentrate.

  It took an hour of maneuvering to get myself over the southwest Pacific basin. Tired and woozy, I had a hard time focusing on the image. I had to do this quickly, or I’d pass out, and it would all be over.

  Now I had to find Tikopia, a tiny speck in the middle of an enormous ocean. At least I knew roughly where it was, west of the route we normally flew between Hawaii and Australia; the one that overflew Nanumea. Australia was easy to see on the image, but in the image the islands were mere specks of dark gray, in an ocean of lighter gray.

  I found Vanuatu, and the island of Espiritu Santo, so if I backtracked toward Hawaii a bit then looked west…got it. Tikopia. I slewed the vessel toward the island, and dropped further into the atmosphere. I had to be careful how much I accelerated, and in what direction, since I didn’t have a seatbelt in this thing. If I punched it too fast, the G-forces would knock me to my feet, or worse, across the room. My legs were already tired, and started shaking when I put too much weight on them. I didn’t want to go too slowly either, and use up what little oxygen I had left.

  “Hey,” I said to the computer, “if you want to survive too, could you tell me how fast this thing can go in the atmosphere before it burns up?”

  It didn’t answer. It must have wanted me to fail.

  It only took about ten minutes to position myself over Tikopia. I must have been moving many times the speed of sound as I descended toward the island, creating some impressive sonic booms. That may be a good thing, because I needed someone with the ability to communicate to see me before I moved on.

  The island looked odd, and it took me a moment to realize what had happened. A large chunk of the eastern half of the island was missing. The entire mountain ridge this vessel had been sitting on had vanished, blasted away by the dozens of nukes dropped on the island. I’d left five days ago, and it probably still glowed red-hot. I couldn’t see any of that in the image though.

  I had no idea how high I was over the island, but from what I remembered, it was about two miles long, which, according to the image, meant I sat about six or seven miles above it. Good. Low enough to have aircraft fly by, but high enough to maneuver quickly if I had to. Time passed, and I felt happy to be back on, or at least close to, Earth. Hovering over the island, I wondered about the effect of all those nuclear detonations. If there was a lot of fallout, where did it go? I hoped my friends on Nanumea weren’t downwind of all this. I’d like to go back there someday. It was such a beautiful spot. It’d be a shame if it got contaminated.

  I shook my head to stop my mind from wandering. Damn CO2. I had to focus, to keep my mind on the job.

  What would someone on the ground think about the ship being here? Would they think it was looking for its lost Children? Or maybe that it came back to evaluate what kind of damage the inhabitants of Earth could do.

  The image beeped, and a dot appeared off to one side. I zoomed the image in, and recognized a cruise missile, like the ones the Ohio launched. On the upside, at least someone knew I was here.

  The light on the side of the box blinked, and I touched it. Hum, roar, crack. A moment later I got knocked sideways by the shockwave. It tossed me to the ground, but I jumped back up to the box and held on. Nothing else showed on the monitor. Good.

  Anuta was easy to find, a short distance northeast. I flew the vessel over it a few minutes later, and then descended. It looked familiar in the image, even if there wasn’t any color.

  Nothing happened. No planes flew near, and nobody launched missiles at me. I stayed for half an hour, and hoped that whoever launched the missile against me at Tikopia could see me here too.

  Time to move on.

  I slid my left hand up, and the vessel surged skyward. Next, Nanumea. It was on a trajectory between Hawaii and Vanuatu. I found it quickly enough, and slewed the vessel through the sky like a drunken cruise ship captain. Not far from the truth, with all this lousy air in here.

  It only took a few minutes to get into position over Nanumea. This time I wanted to be lower, so the Chief, or Fata, or someone else would see me clearly. I descended slowly until it looked like I hovered maybe a mile up, just offshore from the village.

  Hello down there. Look up at the friendly spaceship. I really hoped I’d make it back to Nanumea eventually, if only to hear the stories of the day an alien spaceship made an appearance.

  Feeling faint, I grabbed onto the box, through the image. Hang on, just a little bit longer. I took several deep breaths, and that seemed to clear my head.

  The only drawback would be if they launched another nuke at me while I hovered over Nanumea. The last thing I wanted was to be responsible for frying everyone down on the island. I waited for half an hour, but it was quiet. If I had been detected, it would have been by airborne radar. I didn’t think this vessel was all that stealthy.

  It felt like I’d pushed my luck as much as I could here, so I vaulted skyward again, looking for Palmyra. This would be the tough one to find. I knew it sat almost due south of Hawaii, but there were several small atolls in that general area. I’d have to come in close, and look for whatever I remembered about the island.

  I found Hawaii, over the horizon on the image. Several small specks showed up in about the right location for Palmyra, so I steered the vessel toward them. The first turned out to be the wrong shape, and the second was too small. The third island looked about right, and as I closed in, I recognized the lagoon and the dirt runway cut into the forest. I absolutely had to wait until I was sure I’d been spotted here, or my plan wouldn’t work.

  I put the vessel into a hover over the island, a few thousand feet over the lagoon, and waited. Desperately thirsty, I needed my water. But my backpack had bounced through the open hatch to the lower level. I’d have to wait until this was over. I couldn’t leave the image, in case they launched another missile at me. My legs shook with fatigue, and I sat on the box next to the image, ready to react if something showed up.

  My watch read three in the afternoon in Hawaii, and roughly the same time here at Palmyra. I felt my eyelids droop. No. Not now. I forced myself to stand, and stumbled around the room like a drunk.

  An hour after arriving, the image beeped. The dot on the screen didn’t approach, but circled slowly, at least fifty miles away. Good, someone was taking a look at me. I rose upward a few miles, but stayed over the island until positive the aircraft had seen me.

  One more leg to go, the last hop home.

  Hawaii was easy to spot on the monitor, the biggest islands in the mid-Pacific. Upward I went, my legs barely holding on through the acceleration. Twenty minutes later, I sank back into the atmosphere, aimed at Oahu. I didn’t want to make the military any more nervous than it was, so I aimed for a spot several miles o
ffshore, south of the Honolulu airport. With a pull of G-forces that almost buckled my knees, I came to a stop above the ocean. The image beeped constantly at me, with dozens of aircraft circling nearby. The military had to be in a frenzy by now.

  The planes circled closer; probably F-22’s from the Hawaii Air National Guard, my old unit. I didn’t think they would use nukes on me, this close to Honolulu, but I wasn’t sure of their orders, how desperate their commanders were, or if anyone had deciphered my journey back across the Pacific.

  Two aircraft detached from the formation, and flew toward me. The image beeped louder and more insistently. I couldn’t push that light. It would kill those pilots, and end any chance I had of making it safely home. Whatever happened next, I’d done my best. I had always tried to control what had happened to me; Jennifer had said it, and at last I understood it. Now, I had to trust others to act, to do the right thing. There wasn’t anything more I could do.

  The fighters closed in, aimed directly at me. They flew in standard attack pattern, five miles away, and then four, three. Don’t shoot. Please don’t shoot. I couldn’t look away from the image. Two miles, one mile.

  They roared past the vessel, without firing. I collapsed onto the box next to the image, my legs shaking badly. I owed those guys a lifetime supply of beer.

  There was one more maneuver to make, and I did it as slowly as I could. I drifted the vessel toward the airport, and stopped over the reef runway. That was as far as I could get from any buildings or people, but still be on dry land.

  Gently, slowly, I lowered the vessel. More planes circled overhead, but they didn’t approach. The ghostly image of the runway grew closer, and with a jarring thump, the vessel smacked onto the concrete.

  12

  I strained to move my leaden feet. They resisted, but I had to get out. The full gravity of Earth pulled on me, and I struggled just to stand up. I carried the flashlight down the rod ladder, almost losing my grip a couple of times. The backpack lay on the floor. I picked it up and draped it over my shoulder.

  The air seemed liquid, my legs encased in cement.

  I put the bent flashlight under the recessed handle next to the exit door, and pulled. It didn’t budge. I put more effort into it, then the flashlight snapped in half, and the batteries skittered across the hard floor.

  “Son of a bitch,” I gasped.

  I looked for something else to use as a lever, but there was nothing. A faint sound came from behind me, and I turned around.

  “I told you that you wouldn’t make it. You will die here,” the computer’s voice whispered at me.

  Blood pounded in my ears.

  “Shut up motherfucker! I am DONE listening to you!”

  I grabbed the handle with both hands, put my feet on the wall, and pulled with every ounce of energy I had. It moved a fraction of an inch, and then stopped. I pulled again.

  “MOVE!”

  The handle gave and came up slowly. A rush of air blew over me, and my ears popped. I could smell the blossoms of Hawaii, the tang of the ocean, and the sweet stench of jet fuel. The handle slid into the up position, and the door ponderously lowered itself toward the ground.

  I squinted against the sunlight streaming in through the opening, and staggered back from the opening, wobbly, as a wave of fresh air poured over me.

  The door hissed and thumped hard onto the concrete, forming a ramp as it had back on Tikopia. Everything was silent. The warm, inviting yellow light of our sun looked marvelous, compared to the cold, antiseptic blue I’d been living with for five days. I wobbled down the ramp, and onto the ground. Two fighters roared overhead, before peeling off toward the ocean. At the far end of the runway sat a collection of vehicles, their engines idling. I walked toward them but after a few steps felt so weak that I had to stop, barely able to stand.

  I turned around, and saw the vessel from the outside, without camouflage, for the first time. It was a flying saucer, flat on the bottom, with that slight dome on top. Black streaks covered the outside. The thing was well over two hundred feet in diameter, and forty to fifty feet high. It looked bigger from the outside.

  The trucks drove toward me, but stopped, a hundred yards away. I felt dozens of weapons trained on me. One door slammed, and footsteps clicked on the hard surface of the runway. Looking into the afternoon sun, I couldn’t see who it was. The person stopped, twenty feet away.

  “Boonie?”

  My knees gave out, and I sank to the ground. “It’s me, Colin, it’s me,” I whispered.

  Colin ran up and hugged me, nearly knocking me onto my back. Then he pulled me up to my feet, both of us sobbing and laughing at the same time. Within seconds we were surrounded by hundreds of armed soldiers, officers, medics, and men in suits. They were all talking at once, pushing to get next to me, and to the vessel.

  “Hey, hey,” Colin shouted, “give the guy some air.” He pushed some of the officers away as they tried to question me. I staggered back to the vessel, and sat down on the end of the ramp. Several of the men in suits started walking up the ramp.

  “Don’t go in there,” I said.

  “Why?” one asked.

  “Trust me. You don’t want to get stuck in there. Just give me a little time, and I can show you around.”

  The men looked at each other, then walked back down the ramp. Colin waved at some soldiers nearby. “Don’t let anyone, and I mean anyone, go inside this thing without Boonie here along. Got it?”

  “Yes, sir,” one said.

  “Got any water?” I croaked. Someone handed me a cold plastic bottle of water. I downed several gulps, the sweetest thing I’d ever tasted.

  Within a minute, the soldiers had formed a cordon around the vessel, leaving Colin and me alone, sitting on the ramp. I finished the last swig from the bottle, and looked at Colin. He grinned from ear to ear.

  “I knew it had to be you,” he said quietly.

  “You guys tracked me?”

  He nodded. “The satellite radar stations got you when you were a day out. I was still in the Ohio then, but we got the news relayed to us.”

  “You got back here pretty fast.”

  “Captain Baker didn’t want to hang around after we annihilated Tikopia.” The smile dropped from his face. “We’ll be dealing with that cleanup for years.”

  “I didn’t think you guys would go nuclear on me that fast.”

  “When we got back and told him what had happened, Baker went nuts. He got permission to go nuclear within minutes. Half an hour later, he’d convinced everyone in the UN to join in. We dove out of the way when the bombs dropped, so we didn’t know you had lifted off. Satellite tracking stations found you heading outbound though, and kept an eye on you for a long time. After the bombs hit, Baker didn’t have to worry about the Chinese or Russians tailing him, so we made a high-speed dash back here. We got in early this morning.”

  I closed my eyes, and breathed deep. After being shut inside the vessel for so long, I let the warmth of the sun sink deep into my skin.

  “Last night the tracking stations found the ship coming back,” Colin continued, “We weren’t too surprised that it went over Tikopia first, then Anuta. When you went to Nanumea though, I was really puzzled.”

  “They saw me at Nanumea?”

  “Yeah. The Navy sent a couple of subs down there to evacuate the locals, because of all the fallout heading that way.”

  “Oh.”

  “The subs were underwater, but the rescue teams, gathering up all the locals, went apeshit when they saw you. They radioed it to the subs who sent it on to us. Then when you went to Palmyra, I realized it had to be you, trying to tell us, to tell me, it was you.”

  I smiled.

  “I had to shout my way through all the hubbub at Admiral Bianchi’s office, but he listened. They were planning on nuking you again, since you were aiming for Honolulu, even if it meant sacrificing everyone in Hawaii.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah, wow.”

  We both sa
t in silence for a few moments, enjoying the late afternoon sunshine. Finally I stood up, unsteady, but feeling better than I had inside the vessel.

  “Where are you going?” Colin asked.

  “I’m starved. I was hoping you’d invite me over for dinner.”

  “Dinner? I don’t think Anna has anything prepared.”

  “Ah. Too bad. Here I came all prepared myself,” I said, failing to suppress a grin.

  “You call this prepared? You look, and smell, like crap.”

  “Yeah, but I finally remembered to bring you a makana.”

  “A gift? What the hell could you bring now?”

  I pointed at the vessel behind us.

  Colin burst out laughing, and then stood, holding onto my shoulder and keeping me steady. We made our way through the crowd, toward a waiting van.

  I was home.