"Look!" Kemi said, pointing. "There, between those stars! It's the black hole!"
They all stared. Yes. Marco saw it. A section of the swirling blue and golden sky was missing. A black hole hung in the sky like a black splotch in the painting.
"So we did survive the flight through the black hole," Marco said. "And this isn't Earth."
"So where are we?" Kemi said.
Marco pointed skyward. "Look. See those? Lights. Moving lights."
They all stared. The lights were tiny, so small they were barely visible. They floated like satellites in the depths of space.
"The Ghost Fleet," Lailani whispered, and tears filled her eyes.
They turned back toward the Marilyn. The ship seemed fully repaired. The windshield had been replaced, the hull cracks mended, the wing patched up. The companions raced into the starship, and Kemi sat at the helm.
"All systems are ready to go," the pilot said. "They even repaired our azoth engine! I can't believe it. There's a new crystal installed. Bloody hell, they did good work. I haven't seen engines calibrated this well since flight simulators. They didn't just repair the Marilyn. They souped her up."
"Who is they?" Lailani said.
"We're about to find out," said Ben-Ari. "Lieutenant Abasi, take us up there. Let's get to the bottom of this."
They reached space within sixty seconds. Or was it space? They had never seen such a place. Space was black and empty. But here the cosmos was all coiling purples and indigos and beams of golden light. Marco indeed felt as if they flew within Van Gogh's Starry Night.
"Look at the black hole." Kemi pointed. "I can see our universe."
They all looked. Through the black hole they could see it: their old universe. The blackness of space punctuated by small, white stars.
"We're in a different universe," Marco said. "A different reality. A place where space is colorful and dreams come to life."
"Dreams?" said Ben-Ari. "Whatever we encountered down there seemed real enough. Our bodies are still wounded."
"And I'm still full from unicorn meat." Lailani hiccupped and covered her mouth. "Excuse me." She checked her instruments. "It's bizarre in here, wherever we are. Half my functions are breaking. The sensors are working, they just don't know what to do with the data. It's as if the constants of the universe are all wrong here."
"Because this isn't our universe," said Marco.
"A parallel dimension?" said Lailani.
"A parallel universe," Marco said. "A thousand years ago, humans believed there was only one world: Earth. The idea of multiple planets seemed laughable, even heretical. It challenged the notion that we humans are at the center of creation. But then we discovered Mars, Venus, Saturn, the other planets of our solar system. Fine, people thought. So there are multiple worlds. But at least there's only one sun, and the universe revolves around it. But then we discovered that the stars were distant suns, that they have their own planets, that the galaxy is massive. But surely, we thought, there's only one galaxy, and ours is the center of the universe. Well, we know how that ended up. We found other galaxies, found out that our own Milky Way is quite ordinary. Do you see where I'm going with this?"
"That you want to bore us all to death?" Lailani said.
Marco rolled his eyes. "Very funny, Tiny. Look, we went from planet, to sun, to galaxy, then to believing that there's only one universe. Well, here we go. There are more universes than ours, maybe billions, maybe infinite universes. And that black hole is a portal between our universe and this new one. At least, that's my theory. If anyone has a better one, I'd love to hear it."
"That doesn't explain all the weird shit we saw down on that planet," Lailani said.
"No," Marco said. "But they might be able to explain it."
He pointed.
They all stared.
Ahead they saw it: distant lights, growing closer, taking form.
A fleet.
A massive fleet.
"The Ghost Fleet," Lailani whispered. "They're real. I always knew they were real."
"Help for Earth," Kemi said, tears in her eyes.
"Hold it together, everyone," said Ben-Ari. "We don't know what we're dealing with yet. We don't know if they're friends or foes. Lieutenant Abasi, take us closer. Slowly. Let's get a better look."
The Marilyn glided forward. The alien fleet came closer into view. Marco couldn't help but gasp. He had seen many amazing sights during his journey—alien ships of crystal and light, starwhales that swam through space, and worlds of wonder—but he had never seen anything like this.
Ships floated ahead. Tens of thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands. Some were massive, as large as cities. Others were no larger than cars. Small or large, they all had the same design. They were formed of three disks: a bottom disk of dark metal, a central disk of light, and a top disk of metal again.
"They look like giant checker pieces stacked together," Marco said. "A black piece, a glowing piece, then another black piece."
"They look like giant Oreo cookies to me," Lailani said. "Giant space Oreos with glowing creamy centers."
"How can you be so tiny when you're always thinking about food?" Kemi said. "I just smell food and gain three pounds."
The ships ahead weren't moving, even as the Marilyn flew closer. But their lights were still on. They were obviously still functional to some capacity, despite their antiquity. If this was indeed the Ghost Fleet, legends claimed these ships were a million years old, that they had flown to battle when humanity's ancestors were still swinging from trees.
"They're sending out signals," Lailani said, hunched over her controls. "They match what we detected from the Oort Cloud." She turned to look at the others, eyes shining. "We found them."
Kemi laughed and wiped tears from her eyes. "We finally found them."
But Marco did not share the others' enthusiasm. He remembered all too well the horror on the world below. He remembered feeling like a rat in a maze, tortured with cruel visions. The wolves. The trolleys. The monsters in the pit. Had these aliens tested the crew? If so, were they evil?
Ben-Ari seemed to share his concerns.
"That's close enough, Lieutenant," the captain said. "Stop here. Keep us battle ready. Sergeant Emery, man the cannons and be ready to fire within an instant's notice. Sergeant de la Rosa, send out a signal. Tell them we come in peace. But be ready to fight."
Lailani nodded, her smile fading. "Aye aye, Captain. Sending out our greetings."
They sat in the idling Marilyn, facing the Ghost Fleet. Waiting. The signal beeped, heading out into the void.
Will they understand us? Marco wondered. Are they truly friends, an ancient force for good, as the legends tell? Or are they the beings that tormented us on that planet, and will they torment us still?
For a long time—silence.
The Ghost Fleet hovered ahead, perfectly still. Marco wondered if anyone was on those vessels at all, whether their occupants had died long ago, and they had simply forgotten to turn off the lights.
"I'm detecting increased activity," Lailani said. "The ships are transmitting. They're talking amongst themselves. I can't interpret their signals, and nothing is broadcasting on our frequency." She chewed her lip. "They're talking about us but won't talk to us. Are your ears all burning?"
"Take us a little closer, Lieutenant Abasi," Ben-Ari said. "Another thousand kilometers, then stop. We'll see how they react."
"Yes, ma'am," Kemi said, nudging the ship another thousand kilometers closer, then came to a halt.
Nothing.
Silence.
Stillness.
Then—
"There." Marco pointed. "Look! The large ship in the center."
According to their scanners, the round ship was five kilometers in diameter, dwarfing even the largest warships humanity had ever built. The alien vessel's central disk pulsed with light, illuminating the metal disks that sandwiched it. In the bottom disk, a hatch opened, revealing a shadowy chasm.
&
nbsp; The crew looked at one another.
"They opened a door for us," Lailani said.
"It could lead to danger," Marco said.
"Poet, it's a ship the size of Manhattan," Lailani said. "If it wanted to kill us, we'd be red smears on the planet below right now."
They looked back at the alien vessel. Marco had trouble grasping the sheer size of it. A ship the size of a city . . . and behind it hovered hundreds of other behemoths, just as large. Between them flew thousands of smaller vessels. Marco had seen massive fleets before. He had flown with thousands of human warships against the scum. But he had a feeling that the Ghost Fleet could easily destroy any human armada.
And hopefully the marauders, he thought.
"Captain, what do you think?" Marco said, looking at Ben-Ari. "A door has opened. Do we enter?"
She turned toward them. She was pale. Her temple was still bandaged. Blood stained her uniform. But their captain smiled—a warm smile. A smile full of love, hope, and the hint of mischief.
"When have we ever turned away from an open door?"
Kemi smiled too, then bit her lip as if trying to suppress a grin. "I'll guide us in, ma'am."
"Great," Lailani muttered. "Our first contact with a new alien civilization, and we're flying a 1950s diner. I just hope they like Buddy Holly."
The Marilyn flew closer toward the mighty alien ship. More details emerged. Marco could see glyphs engraved onto the dark metal of the ship's upper and lower disks. The runes were shaped as suns, stars, pulsars, orbiting planets, and even humanoid figures. Marco saw no portholes, no weapons, but grooves seemed to denote moving parts, perhaps other hatches that could open.
"I'm hungry for Oreos," Lailani whispered.
"Hush!" Marco said.
They flew toward the open hatch. The opening was just large enough for the Marilyn to enter. They glided into a massive, empty hangar, and Kemi brought them down.
Behind them, the hatch thudded shut.
The Marilyn stood alone in the hangar.
The walls soared toward a distant ceiling. More glyphs were engraved on the walls, displaying stars, planets, and humanoids. They reminded Marco of crop circles. Light filled the hangar, its source hidden.
For a few moments, the crew waited in silence.
Finally Lailani spoke. "Do we wait to be seated or go find a waiter?"
"Not everything is about food!" Marco said.
"We wait," said Ben-Ari. "A little longer."
They waited in silence on the Marilyn's bridge. Still nobody came to greet them.
"Maybe the aliens are dead," Lailani said. "Maybe the hatch is automatic. Like grocery store doors." She glanced at Marco. "When you go buy Oreos."
After several more uneventful moments, Ben-Ari nodded. "All right. We go investigate. No guns, no grenades, no knives. Leave all weapons behind."
"Is that wise, ma'am?" Marco said. "If anyone's still alive here, they might not be friendly. The planet below certainly wasn't."
"If they wanted to kill us, they could have done so long ago," said Ben-Ari. "We don't want to antagonize our hosts. We represent humanity now." She looked at their tattered, bloody battle fatigues and sighed. "I wish we had proper service uniforms, but this will have to do."
"There are the old vintage clothes in your father's closet," Kemi said.
"No." Ben-Ari shook her head. "We won't greet aliens looking like the cast of Scooby-Doo."
They stepped out of the ship and into the hangar. There was no need for spacesuits; the air was breathable, just like down on the planet. Their footfalls echoed in the towering chamber. Standing out here, the runes on the walls seemed even larger, towering circles, beams, and stick figures. Marco felt like an ant who had wandered into a castle. Were these aliens giants?
They walked deeper into the hangar, leaving the Marilyn behind, heading toward the far wall.
"Do you see those patterns on the wall?" Ben-Ari pointed ahead. "That looks like a round doorway. Let's knock."
The four soldiers stepped closer, and Marco felt naked without his rifle. Lailani was still mumbling something about cookies; she was scared, Marco knew, using humor to alleviate her fear. He had spent enough time with soldiers to know that humor sprang from horror. Kemi too was nervous, clenching and releasing her good fist, and she kept reaching to her belt as if seeking her pistol. If Ben-Ari was scared, she displayed few signs of it, only pale cheeks and tight lips. She walked at the lead.
They were a hundred meters away when the round doorway dilated.
The aliens emerged.
The crew froze.
Marco couldn't help it. He took a step back.
"Ugly fuckers," Lailani whispered.
The aliens scuttled forward, thin and pale and tentacled. They moved at incredible speed, their digits flailing like ribbons. Their actual bodies—the central abdomens—were no larger than basketballs, covered with bulbs that were perhaps eyes. Most of their mass seemed in those tentacles that whipped about in every direction, propelling the creatures forward. They reminded Marco of giant brain cells or perhaps crazed jellyfish.
"They don't look friendly," Kemi said, voice strained.
Marco gulped, curbing the instinct to flee.
"Hello, friends!" Ben-Ari said, raising her hand. "Greetings from Earth! We come in peace."
The aliens reached them. The tentacles shot out. Marco grimaced and turned his head aside. The tentacles trailed across him, poking, prodding, feeling, squeezing. Suction cups connected to him, then pulled back. Needles poked him.
"Ow!" Marco blurted out. He heard similar sounds of protest from his friends. The creatures were nicking them, drawing drops of blood. They sucked up the liquid as if tasting. Nostrils opened on their tentacles, and they sniffed.
"What are they doing?" Lailani said.
"Studying us," Marco said. "Smelling, tasting, analyzing our blood. They're curious fellows."
The flailing creatures retreated. Tentacles whipping in a frenzy, the aliens scurried back through the doorway, vanishing deeper into the ship.
"Still nicer than the hostess at Denny's," Lailani said.
They all readjusted their clothes and took a few moments to shudder.
"The round door is still open." Ben-Ari pointed. "I take that as an invitation."
They walked through, entering a second chamber, and Marco lost his breath.
"My God," he whispered, looking around with wide eyes.
"A cathedral." Lailani crossed herself. "A cathedral of life."
Ben-Ari had tears on her cheeks. "It's a forest. It's a galaxy."
Trees grew here. Hundreds, maybe thousands of trees, their trunks and branches as black as the floor and walls. Their leaves hung like the leaves of weeping willows, long and woven of pure light, shimmering, sparkling with internal stars. Runes were engraved onto the walls and ceiling, shining, forming constellations. Crickets sang and a breeze rustled the leaves.
"They're mimicking their home planet," Marco said softly. "It's a bit of their world. Here on the ship."
The companions walked deeper into the woods. The hanging leaves brushed against them, veined and full of luminous beads. The air smelled like autumn evenings after rainfall, and fireflies danced. They reached a clearing. A throne rose ahead, taller than a man, formed from coiling roots and branches. A figure seemed to sit here, gazing down upon them, cloaked in shadows.
The companions paused.
Ben-Ari raised her hand.
"Greetings, friend! We are humans of Earth. Peace!"
A voice rose, sonorous, androgynous, vibrating with life.
"We know your world. Whether you are friends shall be seen."
Marco narrowed his eyes. Something about that voice triggered an old memory.
He took a step closer. "Will you reveal yourself?" he called out.
"Marco." Ben-Ari placed a hand on his shoulder.
He looked back at her, and he saw fear in her eyes. He nodded at her, gently, and she removed her hand.
Marco stepped closer to the throne of coiling wood. "Who do we speak to?"
The alien descended from the throne. She moved on digitigrade legs, like those of an animal. Her frame was delicate, but each of her hands sprouted three fingers tipped with powerful claws. She wore a wispy dress, the fabric silvery like gossamer, and a wooden mask. It reminded Marco of a kabuki mask.
He knew her.
He had seen her on Haven.
The ghost who had given him the conch.
"Tomiko," he whispered.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Petty sat in his quarters, reading a dog-eared paperback of The Moon is a Harsh Mistress, when the knock sounded on the door.
President Katson stepped into the room. "You wanted to see me, General?"
Earth's president looked ruffled. Haggard. Her suit showed a handful of wrinkles. Her hair had not been done in days. When Petty had first met her, he had thought Katson intolerably prim and proper—and that was coming from a general who folded his socks. Yet over the past few days, cracks had shown in Katson's steely exterior, and some light, some warmth, had shone through. She had barely left the colonists since they had rescued them on Mars. For days now, Katson had walked among them, comforted them, helped feed and tend to them.
I almost thought you were an android at one point, Petty thought. Now I see the woman behind the armor.
He placed his book aside. He stood up.
"Yes, Madam President, thank you for visiting me here."
She looked at a framed photograph on the wall. "Your daughter, yes? Captain Coleen Petty?"
"Major Coleen Petty," he said softly. "They promoted her posthumously."
Katson looked at him. "I'm sorry for your loss, James. I never met her, but I heard she was a remarkable woman."
Petty couldn't help but snort a laugh. "She was proud, impetuous, stubborn, and rude. She drove me up the wall, and half the time I wanted to strangle her. But I love her. She was my little girl."
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