by Thomas Stone
Fagen sighed. "The Corporation is run on greed. If that star Bonner located goes nova, they won't show any interest in this place. Mia Culpa will be a burned-out cinder."
"There's still the minor problem of explaining why we weren't able to establish a peaceful dialogue with the first advanced species found in the galaxy."
The commander looked out the port. "You think you could do better than Harry? You think you could get those things to talk to you without taking your head off?"
Parker sniffed. "I couldn't do any worse than Irons."
"Is that so? Well, would you like to have a chance at it?"
"What do you mean?"
Fagen pointed out the port. "Take a look."
Parker followed Fagen's pointing finger. Outside the shuttle, at the treeline and motionless as statues, stood two of the aliens.
"Shit," the doctor exclaimed, "let's get out of here."
Fagen smiled. "That's what I thought. Sure you don't want to go out and have a chat?"
"Don't be absurd. Let's get out of here!"
"Let's not be so hasty. If we fire up now, they might just blow us out of the sky as we're lifting off."
"What are we going to do then?"
"First, we're going to protect ourselves." Fagen pointed to an instrument panel. "Flip the bottom toggle switch."
Parker did as he was told. "What's that going to do?"
"We just applied power to the laser cannon."
Parker's eyes grew wide. "We can't fight these things!"
"I see. First they're intelligent and you think we should make every effort to communicate, then you think we should bug out." Fagen laughed. "Make up your mind, Doctor."
Parker didn't reply. His attention was riveted on the aliens. Fagen toyed with the joystick that controlled the sighting device for the cannon. The aliens remained motionless at the edge of the trees.
Fagen knew he could no longer afford to wait for Harry. There was a good chance the linguist was no longer alive. It was a shame. Harry was a good man.
He entered a command onto the console keyboard ignition. A high-pitched whine came from below as pumps worked to apply pressure to the fuel flow system. The patched hydraulic system held together like new. Bonner had done a good job. In minutes, the shuttle would be ready to go.
Outside, one of the aliens suddenly scurried to a flanking position. The other took a few steps forward and stopped. It reached for an instrument on its equipment belt.
Fagen brought the laser cannon to bear on the alien who lingered in front.
"We can't do this!" exclaimed Parker.
"I have no choice."
"Try the radio! Try anything first!"
"Go ahead," said a calm Fagen. "Try to raise them on the radio. Maybe it'll work this time."
Parker put on his headset and punched a button. Several channels opened at once. "This is Earth galaxy survey team. We are here with peaceful intentions. Do you understand me? Can you hear me?"
As Fagen expected, there was no reply. He checked the instrument readings for the cannon. The elements had pre-heated and the weapon was ready to fire, if necessary. To no avail, Parker tried the radio again.
Fagen shook his head. "I'm telling you, these things aren't interested in casual conversation."
"That's just too hard to believe."
"You better believe it. It just might mean both our lives otherwise."
While the two men argued, the alien in front leveled its weapon and fired a beam over the top of the shuttle. Parker ducked under his console.
"It was a warning shot."
"Let's get out of here!"
"I'm working on it!"
*
At the sound of the beam being discharged, Harry stopped dead in his tracks. Kretin and Arai stopped as well. All three peered through the trees, searching for the source of the sound. Kretin pointed ahead.
"We are very close."
Harry nodded in understanding.
*
Parker was on the radio again, calling the Magellan. Nadine's voice floated out of the shuttle speakers. "This is Magellan. What's going on down there?"
Excitedly, Parker shouted into his headset. "We're under attack! Two aliens are outside the shuttle!"
Nadine's voice came back over the loudspeakers. Matter-of-factly, she said, "What would you have us do, Doctor?"
Fagen interrupted. "Nadine," he said calmly, "we're preparing to lift off. If all goes well, we'll see you in thirty minutes or so. If not, well, you have my permission to leave orbit and head back to the wormhole."
Parker pivoted to Fagen, an angered expression on his face. "What are you saying? We'll be stranded! We'll be killed!"
"Calm down. Give us a chance to get out of here before you write our obituary." Fagen spoke into his headset. "Did you copy all that, Nadine?"
"That is affirmative. We'll be waiting. Good luck. This is Magellan, out."
"Now what?" The doctor asked.
"Now we protect ourselves and try to bug out without being burned."
Fagen checked his instrument readings. The shuttle was ready for lift-off. The computers waited for the initiate command. He glanced out the window and saw the alien advance toward the shuttle. It was only twenty yards away now. Fagen doubted whether the blast from the engines would do them any harm.
They would have to leave the laser cannon where it was. For the time being, it offered some degree of protection.
Fagen didn't want the creatures getting any closer. There was a chance that if they reached the shuttle, they could open the main hatch again and gain entry. Fagen wasn't going to allow that to happen.
As the creature continued its advance, Fagen aimed the laser cannon at the legs of the beast. It took another step forward and Fagen squeezed off his shot.
The white-hot light jumped from the barrel of the cannon and burned into the creature's metallic foreleg. The shot staggered the alien as the laser burned into the metal. Before it had sufficient time to cut through, the leg bent and the creature tumbled forward to the ground. The beam shut off and the cannon began to accumulate charge for the next shot.
The second alien came to the aid of its fallen comrade. It fired a shot at the laser cannon and registered a direct hit. The cannon exploded, scattering bits of metal like shrapnel across the hull of the shuttle.
Without another word, Fagen engaged the computers. The ship responded immediately, igniting the chemical fires to the rocket engines. The shuttle heaved and began to lift off the ground.
Both creatures were in view. The wounded alien remained on the ground while its companion stood over it and pointed a weapon toward the ascending shuttle. Fagen concentrated on the instrument readouts. The shuttle performed normally, just a few more minutes and they'd be out of danger. Parker gripped his armrests and kept his eyes on the aliens.
The shuttle seemed to move extremely slow. Seconds stretched like minutes.
"Can't we make this thing move any faster?"
"Doing the best I can," Fagen replied. "What're the aliens doing?"
Parker stared out the window. "One of them's on the ground. The other is pointing something at us."
"Uh-oh," said Fagen even as the creature fired its first shot.
The beam struck the shuttle somewhere on the underside and the craft rocked wickedly from side to side. An alarm filled the cockpit and sparks flew from an instrument console.
"We've got a power overload," said Fagen. He glanced to the rear of the compartment. Calmly he added, "Will you put out the fire, Doctor Parker?"
Parker looked behind and saw flames springing from behind an instrument panel. He jumped out of his chair, for the moment forgetting the discomfort of his injury, and grabbed a fire extinguisher.
As the doctor put out the fire, the shuttle continued to rise. The aliens didn't bother to fire another shot, but plenty of damage had already been done. Fagen fought the controls and hoped the craft wasn't severely damaged.
*
; At the sound of the engines, Harry began to run. The forest filled with their roar. The aborigines followed cautiously behind. Harry didn't share their reluctance. He knew what he heard: the sound of the shuttle engines, the sound of his escape vanishing.
He ran as fast as he could. The additional gravity made him feel as though he was running through syrup. He stumbled once, but caught himself and pressed on.
Harry glimpsed the bright fires from the engines and gulped for air. As he watched, the shuttle lifted into the air. It wobbled for a moment and then continued upward. Harry slowed to a walk and finally stopped. There was nothing more he could do.
In the clearing, small fires burned from shrubs, grass, and tree limbs ignited by the hot thrust of the shuttle engines. Harry watched the shuttle for a long time, then turned and walked back to the two aborigines where all three took shelter under a towering redwood.
Harry sat on an exposed root and tried to think. He had no way to communicate with the shuttle or the Magellan. Would they come back for him? His heart began to race as panic became a knot in his stomach and threatened to rise up to his throat and strangle him.
He was well into playing 'what if?' when he realized that, if Kathleen was still alive, this was how she probably felt. Stranded.
Chapter 32
Harry didn't have long to mope before the sound of airjets got his attention. Both he and the two Bedorans froze while through the branches they glimpsed dark, polished metal passing directly overhead. The alien craft passed slowly but uneventfully.
Kretin looked at the point of his spear. Unsatisfied, he fished a stone from his pouch and began sharpening the tip. Arai sipped water from a pouch and offered some to Harry. Against his better judgment, Harry took it, planning only on washing out his mouth, but as soon as the cool water reached his lips, his thirst overcame him and he drank in deep draughts.
Without looking up, Kretin spoke. Harry caught the gist of most of it.
"We must go back," he said. "We must take care of Grandfather's body."
Arai nodded. "What about him?" The boy pointed at Harry.
"He can do what he wants."
"He is strange. Alone in the forest, he will be killed."
"That is everyone's concern."
While the primitives discussed his fate, Harry considered the options. He could stay put and hope Fagen would return. If he stayed where he was, he might have to contend with some of the aliens. If the shuttle didn't return, he was stuck, lost in a place he knew little about.
"Three are stronger than two," Arai reminded his brother.
"That is true. He could help us carry..." Kretin turned and kicked the alien. It dodged and spat at him. The Bedoran warrior laughed in defiance.
"The thing is puny. Perhaps we should kill it. Then we would not have to carry it."
Arai easily agreed.
Harry stared at the alien and struggled with his feelings. Could he make them spare its life? Probably not. It lay helplessly wrapped in the net and stared with its cold, piercing eyes. On the other hand, Harry thought, what did it matter? The thing was obviously beyond reach. It was intelligent enough to communicate; it simply chose not to. The first advanced species to be discovered and they turned out to be brutal little bastards. Harry would be in all the history books for all the wrong reasons.
"Wait," Harry said. He thought about the correct way to say what he had in mind. "We can use it," he pointed at the alien, "to trap others. If you are not afraid." Harry insulted them, hoping it would achieve the desired effect.
Kretin exchanged a glance with his brother. "Do my ears lie to me?" He straightened up and faced Harry. A tense moment passed. Kretin stared hard at Harry and finally banged a fist against his furry chest.
"I am Kretin, a Bedoran warrior. I have no fear!"
Harry replied without hesitation, in nearly perfect Bedoran. "Then let us spare the life of the monster and gather more in a trap. The creature will be, will be..." Harry searched for the word.
"Bait?" Arai offered.
"Yes," Harry said, "bait."
Arai looked at his brother who still stared menacingly at Harry. "What do you think, brother? A trap set for the others?"
To Harry's relief, Kretin relaxed and waved his tail positively. He stepped to the bundled alien and hoisted it aloft. Setting it beside Harry, he said, "Then you can carry it."
Kretin began walking and the others followed. It didn't take long to retrace their steps to the spot where the elder Bedoran was killed. They approached warily and soon found the body of the old man. The corpse was in bad shape. To their dismay, the head and one hand was missing. Animals had been at the remains as well.
The two Bedorans moved quickly, finding leaves to dress and pad the body, then giant fronds to cover it. Using branches, Kretin expertly fashioned a stretcher and tied the body into it. Harry kept watch and tried to help, but the abos didn't want him to touch their Grandfather's body.
As they hoisted the body onto the stretcher, Harry saw that both were crying. Still, they seemed to hold back, as if they wanted to save their deepest grief for a more proper time. Harry began to understand how important the rituals were to these primitives, how deeply ingrained into their culture, such as it was. Before they performed even the simplest of tasks, there was a signal, most usually a gesture with the tail, prior to the action. Presently, Kretin waved his tail and uttered a half-dozen stuttered coughs. He squatted on the ground and drew a circle as he whispered to himself. He looked into the forest as if to get his bearings, then back down to the circle. Using a stick, he drew a bisecting line, then short points along the line. Arai started the routine all over again in other spot.
In a short time, they were on their way. Harry carried the alien hoisted over his shoulder like a sack, and the two Bedorans carried the body of their Grandfather. Harry plodded on one step at a time and tried to occupy his mind. One thought kept returning to him, a verse from a long dead 21st century poet. It seemed appropriate and went like this:
“The choices are always the same,
as if we knew all along;
but we continue to play the game,
arriving at destinations unknown.”
Over and over the verse ran through his head until it became a silent chant Harry marched by. After a time, the words lost their meaning, but the beat remained.
*
Blane waited for the signal that would indicate the transmission gear was ready. He could have watched a light on the instrument panel -- it would indicate when the connections were made and the equipment was online -- but he didn't need it. Because of the terminal connected directly to his brain, Blane would receive the digital signal in his head before it reached the instrument panel.
He was aware that Fagen was trying to escape from the surface. It was a concern, but not his major concern. Fagen would either make it or he wouldn't. One way or the other, it didn't change Blane's plans.
He wasn't crazy, but he wasn't exactly sane either. When one spent so much time with computers, sometimes the distinction between reality and cyberspace became blurred. Nonetheless, Blane was a genius. His implants multiplied his intelligence tenfold and enabled him to analyze huge amounts of data quicker than most computers. The result of all this interaction with digital logic at times confused him. Simply put, sometimes he forgot he was human.
Even the alien computer had recognized him as a cybernetic intelligence, if the thing could be called a computer. It wasn't constructed like any computer Blane had ever seen. Its messages contained questions and requests as well as straightforward data. It seemed to think autonomously. There was none of the usual stimulus-response type of operating construction that was designed into the machines built on Earth. Instead, the alien computer seemed alive, spontaneous in its thought and the messages were passed faster than even Blane could keep up.
The computer had displayed no hostility. It showed little regard for life forms either, but Blane mused it could be because in many ways it adopte
d the mindset of its builders, just as the primitive computers built on Earth copied the logical mindset of humanity. Being inside the alien machine was strange, but also the most fascinating experience Blane had ever had.
The equipment signaled that it was primed and ready. The light on the instrument panel flashed green. Via his implants, Blane sent a command to the radio and a pre-coded message was beamed to the alien craft. Instantly, Blane detected a response.
Satisfied, he closed his connection to the communications routines and returned to a virtual reality that he'd found himself visiting more and more often. In it, he was in total control, godlike in his powers with the ability to create his every whim from thin air. And women. Oh, the women. They were everywhere, and everyone beautiful, with perfect bodies, and breasts that...
*
The shuttle pitched and Fagen fought to keep it under control.
"What's wrong?" shouted Parker.
Fagen didn't take his eyes from the instruments. "We're losing hydraulic pressure."
"I thought Bonner fixed that!"
"Yes, well..." Fagen shrugged.
The shuttle pitched violently to one side as the craft hit an upper atmospheric jet stream. Parker went sprawling and Fagen fought the controls. A loud thud sounded somewhere in the rear and the craft shuddered as if in pain.
"What was that?"
"We just lost primary hydraulics."
"Great. What are we going to do now?"
Fagen was too busy to answer. The shuttle was still climbing, but how long was anybody's guess.
Parker glanced at the instrument readings. Engine temperature climbed into the red. Parker pulled the seat straps tighter and waited for an explosion that would disintegrate the shuttle and spread his charred remains through the thin upper atmosphere of Mia Culpa.
And then, quite suddenly, they were weightless. The engines shut down and the shuttle drifted in orbit. The instrument panels flashed red. One system after another reached a critical point and shut down.