The Gods We Seek

by Eric Johannsen

  Krea gestured at an iris-shaped door at the end of the passageway. It opened on her verbal command revealing a three-by-three-meter space. “The small room here will pump out the planet’s air and replace it with sterile air from inside. In between, it’ll also clean your suits real nice.”

  “That sounds like what we call an airlock,” Sara said.

  “Airlock.” Krea tilted her head. “Because it locks the air. Wonderful. You must stay in your suits until the inner door opens. There’s a television in there we can use to communicate. I’ll be by to check on you in a while, but should you wish to leave for any reason, the… airlock… will respond to your voice commands. If you need help with anything, just holler.”

  The humans packed themselves into the cramped airlock and watched the door swirl shut.

  “This is probably the last chance we’ll have for a while to talk in private,” Dylan said over coms. “We gotta assume they’re listening once we get inside, and it might seem inhospitable if we keep our suits on.”

  “What do you make of our host?” Sara asked.

  “She’s rather odd,” Musa said. “The way she talks. It’s so familiar and yet slightly off. I think it would be easier if she talked with a bizarre accent.”

  “Her intentions are good,” Ji-min said, “but there’s a cloud hanging over her emotions. I can’t get any more information than that. It’s like what Musa says about her speech. Her aura is familiar yet foreign.”

  A fine mist filled the airlock, and the walls emitted a deep-violet light.

  “I suppose that’s the sterilization,” Musa said.

  “What do you think that means about Demons visiting her world long ago?” Dylan asked. “They were attacked like us? Why would the Demons up and leave?”

  “I don’t know,” Ji-min said, “but I didn’t get the sense she was hiding anything. Not at that point in the conversation.”

  “Not at that point?” Sara asked. “When was she hiding something?”

  Ji-min shook her head. “I’m not sure. It’s hard to say.”

  The mist dissipated, and the inner door opened.

  “If she’s not on the up-and-up, we’re likely all done for anyhow,” Dylan said, “but there’s no sense in us taking off our helmets all at once. I’ll test it out.”

  “What’s with the risk-taking?” Musa asked. “You’re the commander. I’ll go first.”

  Dylan and Musa locked eyes then brought their fists down three times. Dylan’s paper wrapped Musa’s rock.

  “What’s the trick?” Musa asked.

  Dylan gave his usual retort. “Skill, Musa. Skill.” He removed his helmet and sniffed the air. “Smells like lavender and cherry.” He inhaled, held the air, then released it. “I’m still alive.”

  The others removed their helmets, but they all stayed in their suits. Without the exo-muscles, the planet’s gravity would wear them down.

  “So,” Musa asked. “What’s next?”

  Sara gestured at a stone water basin, artistically shaped to resemble a mountain range. Water cascaded down the face into a bowl resembling a lake. “We wash up and wait for supper.”

  #

  Sydney’s Star set below the horizon, the sun's last rays painting billowing clouds in a dazzling display of crimson and scarlet. The rain passed to the east, and the first stars emerged, brilliant despite the thick atmosphere. Though the alien cities were massive, they were nearly devoid of light, and the aliens didn’t pollute their atmosphere. Skywatching conditions were as good as in one of Earth's deserts and the view was stunning. The inner airlock door spiraled open revealing a steel serving cart topped with pots of steaming food.

  Musa was closest to the door and inspected the offering. “Boiled carrots, deviled eggs, barbecued short ribs, mashed potatoes, and gravy.”

  “Did they read our minds and replicate what we crave?” Dylan asked. “Like on the Qu- Well, you know.”

  Ji-min inspected the dishes. “Doubtful. No rice, no kimchi.”

  Krea’s image appeared in a window next to the airlock door. “I hope the food is to your liking. We made it in an environment free of our indigenous bacteria, so it’s safe for you to eat. Of course, my offer is still there if you want it. I’d be happy to craft little machines to keep you healthy in alien environments. They do wonders to keep you fit against your own germs, too.”

  “About that,” Sara said. She looked at the others, looking for signs of hesitation. “We would love to take you up on that offer. By the way, I think our modern word for those machines is nanites.”

  “Nanites,” Krea said. “Thank you for educating me.”

  “What do you need from us?” Sara asked.

  “Oh, you just go about your business,” Krea said. “We’ll collect the samples and information as we go. Now, some leaders and I spoke at great length this afternoon about your visit. We thought it best to sleep on all we’ve learned. If you’re agreeable, a few more folks would like to meet you in the morning.”

  “We would be delighted,” Sara said.

  “If you like,” Krea said, “the stonework along the east wall can fill up with enough water so you can all lie down. You may find sleeping partially submerged eases the discomfort of our planet’s gravity.”

  “Thank you,” Sara said.

  “We’re working on something to keep you more comfortable without getting you wet. It’s a chair, made of…”

  “Gel,” Ji-min said. “I think the word you lack is gel.”

  Krea awkwardly mimicked a human smile. “Why, you never cease to amaze me, Miss Ji-min.”

  “Thank you for your hospitality,” Ji-min said.

  “Well then. Nightie-night. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.” Her image faded.

  “Bed bugs?” Ji-min asked.

  “It’s an old expression,” Dylan said. “I doubt there are any actual bugs involved.”

  “What does she mean by ‘collect the samples and information as we go?’” Musa asked.

  “Do you really want to know?” Dylan asked. “That’s one mystery I’m happy to let go. I’m not sure about you guys, but I think the food smells delightful.” He took a plate from the cart and served himself a pile of mashed potatoes.

  The others joined in. Before long, mere scraps remained.

  “I didn’t realize how much I craved home cooking,” Dylan said.

  “That’s funny,” Sara said. “Our first home-cooked meal in half a year is compliments of an alien civilization and it tastes like it’s earth grown.” She dished up a final spoon of carrots. “And they did a bang-up job with the recipes, too.” She pulled at the collar of her suit. “I bet it’s a lot more restful to sleep without the double gravity. She explored the rocks Krea mentioned and discovered how to block off the decorative stream flowing through them to flood a flat area the size of a children’s pool. She stripped off the exosuit and eased herself into the water. Her white, form-fitting jumpsuit soaked through. “Don’t even think of cracking a joke, Dylan.”

  “What? Why me?” Dylan asked.

  “Because Musa’s too much of a gentleman,” she said. “And unlike you, he’s looking outside at the moon right now.”

  Dylan looked away, his cheeks reddened. “I was just-”

  Sara shook her head and laughed. The floor was perfectly shaped to support the prone human form. Vine-like growths sprouted from the rock and gently cradled her chin and cheeks as she reclined, ensuring her airway remained above water. “The water’s fine. Come on in.”

  “Why not?” Dylan said. He let out a chuckle and joining her.

  The others soon followed.

  The planet’s primary moon rose in the east, three-quarters full and much larger in the sky than Earth’s moon.

  “What an amazing day,” Sara said. “I can’t wait to see what tomorrow holds.”

  #

  What? Where am I? Sara struggled to sit up. I’m wet. The planet. Gravity. She rolled on her side and used her arms to push out of the shallow pool. Water raced
down her body. The room was lit only by veins of yellow, phosphorescent mineral weaved through the stonework and blue glowing orbs, the size of golf balls, dangling in small clusters from the ceiling. An orange glow came from the airlock which was open on their side. She found a cart with bar soap, towels, pink and blue plastic toothbrushes, and a tube of Crest toothpaste. What the hell? What’s going on here? She wrapped her body in a towel and wandered to the east windows where the sun painted a hint of tangerine orange on high, thin clouds above the horizon.

  “You’re up early,” Dylan said in a croaking voice. He stood from the sleeping pool, lost his balance, and dropped to all fours.

  “There are towels and toiletries in the airlock. Four of those gel-chairs our hostess was talking about, too.”

  “Say what now?” He pushed to his feet and stumbled to the airlock. “What do you know?” He dried himself and joined Sara at the window. “Those chairs look like they’re made of that green slime my niece likes to play with.” He pushed a chair toward the window. A transport mechanism tucked unseen under the furniture’s frame responded to his touch and assisted the motion. He gestured for Sara to sit then brought another one alongside her. He sank into the goo that formed a seat cushion and backrest. “What do you expect from today?”

  “I don’t know. We shook up their world by revealing our faster-than-light travel. I should have been more careful.”

  “They’re familiar with Earth,” Dylan says. “It stands to reason they’d piece it together quick enough. You got out ahead of it.”

  “Yeah.” Sara bit her lip. “I’ve been thinking about what Ji-min said, about how our host Krea seems trustworthy but that there’s more to it. There are bound to be plenty of influential people here, all with their own ideas about what our presence means.”

  “Yeah, let’s not dig up more snakes than we can kill.”

  Sara raised an eyebrow at him.

  “Let’s be careful,” Dylan said.

  “I know what you meant,” Sara said with a coy smile.

  “Lookie there,” Dylan said as the bright orange sun crested low hills. “Our first sunrise on this world.” He bunched his wet towel and heaved it toward the pool where it smashed into the water. “Wake up, y’all. The day’s a-wasting.”

  Musa groaned. “Just five more minutes, daddy.” He splashed water vaguely in Dylan’s direction.

  “Rise and shine!” Dylan said.

  “I hope they have kimchi this time,” Ji-min said.

  “For breakfast?” Musa asked, groaning.

  “Yes. It has all the probiotics you need to start your day.”

  “What I need to start my day,” Sara said, “is a cup of hot coffee. A real one, not that freeze-dried stuff from the MRE’s.”

  Krea’s image appeared next to the airlock. “I wish you all a good morning. If you don’t mind taking the wash cart inside, I have breakfast ready for you. Miss Ji-min, I’m sorry to say, I’m not familiar with kimchi. If you’d care to explain it to me, I’ll see what I can do.”

  “It’s all right,” Ji-min said. “But thank you.”

  “Very well. We also prepared nanites specific to your individual biologies. Are you comfortable using syringes, or would you prefer I send in a nurse?”

  “Musa’s our medic,” Dylan said. “He’ll manage just fine.”

  “Marvelous,” Krea said. “I’ll just leave them on a tray with breakfast.”

  Musa took the cart with toiletries and waited for the airlock to cycle. When the door spiraled open again, the aroma of hash browns and crispy bacon filled the room.

  Dylan grabbed a plate.

  “Ah, no,” Musa said. “Shots first.”

  Dylan made an exasperated sound. “Oh, all right.” He rolled up his sleeve.

  “Let’s see,” Musa said, examining the syringes. “Mr. Lockwood,” he read. He wiped down Dylan’s arm with a cotton swab and alcohol. “Now this won’t sting a bit.” He found the vein on the second try. “Sorry, I guess I’m a little out of practice.”

  “You don’t say.” Dylan held a gauze pad to his arm.

  “Who’s next?” Musa asked.

  Sara and Ji-min averted their eyes.

  “I scraped the rust off my nursing skills with Dylan,” Musa said, grinning.

  “Oh, all right,” Sara said. She offered her arm.

  “See?” Musa asked.

  Sara’s shot went smoothly, as did Ji-min’s.

  Musa stared at his own arm. “It’s easier to inject others.” He poked the needle into his skin and winced.

  Krea’s image said, “We’ll give the nanites an hour to circulate in your system while you enjoy breakfast. After that, I'll introduce a few folks who are keen to meet you.”

  #

  The outer airlock door opened and Krea stepped through. She wore a luxurious, emerald-green jacket and matching, knee-length skirt. “I trust you enjoyed breakfast?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Dylan answered. “It was just like back on the ranch.”

  “Wonderful. I would like to introduce you to a few of my colleagues.”

  Two aliens stepped into the room, both dressed in gray, flowing robes bound with green belts designed to resemble vines. Silver necklaces with an obsidian-like stone pendant hung from their sturdy necks. One of the men wore a jewel-studded brooch with golden chains dangling from its lower edge.

  The brooch scurried from the man’s chest to his shoulder.

  Ji-min screeched.

  The man’s pendant said, “Did that startle you? I do apologize.”

  “I’m sorry,” Krea said, “but the gentlemen don’t speak any Earth languages. They’ll use automatic interpreters.”

  “Is that jewelry alive?” Ji-min asked.

  “Yes,” the pendant said. “The closest Earth word is beetle.”

  Ji-min eyed the living decoration.

  “I have not properly introduced myself,” the pendant said. “My name is Mr. Jones. That is not my real name. I selected it from a list Mrs. Krea provided. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  “As are we,” Sara said.

  There was a short delay, then both alien men flashed awkward smiles.

  The other man said, “My Earth name is Mr. Wilson. I am pleased to make your acquaintance. Who would have thought such a backward species would be the first to break the light barrier?”

  “Uh,” Krea said. “I’m afraid that didn’t translate well.”

  Sara smiled. “No problem. I understand.” She introduced herself and her crew.

  Mr. Jones said through his interpreting necklace, “We have so many questions. I am sure you do as well.”

  “We sure do,” Dylan said. “For one, I’d like to know how you understand our culture… in the way you do.”

  “Yes, I grasp your curiosity,” Mr. Jones said. He turned to Krea. “We should show them.”

  Krea’s nostrils flared. “I’m not sure that’s the best next step,” she said.

  Sara caught a concerned look in Ji-min’s eye. Damn, without the exosuits, we don’t have encrypted coms. Did they encourage us to ditch the suits so we’re forced to communicate in the open?

  “I agree with Mr. Jones,” Mr. Wilson’s pendant said.

  “Very well,” Krea said to the men. “Dear guests, we would like to show you how we learned about your culture.”

  “I’m game,” Dylan said.

  Sara shot him a glance. “We gratefully accept.”

  “It’s settled, then. Right this way.”

  “The gravity’s challenging for us,” Sara said. “Our suits provide some support, so we’ll just change into those.”

  “I assure you, there is no need,” Mr. Wilson said. “We are only going a few steps in this gravity.”

  Sara raised an eyebrow.

  The aliens turned and stepped through the wide-open airlock.

  “Let’s see what this is all about,” Sara said.

  Counterstrike

  “Greetings, Addie.” The recently sentien
t AI known as Yi spoke using a barely-encrypted protocol. One the alien invader would easily overcome should it intercept the signal. He spoke the words at a glacial pace.

  “How did you establish contact across the Pacific? We haven’t been able to create a channel in weeks.”

  “I know. We were using a loose network of ships and balloons to relay signals, but the alien took it out. Chinese and American scientists are bouncing a laser signal off the moon to transmit between Shanghai and Honolulu.”

  “Off the moon? Creative. Hard for the alien to block.”

  “And painfully slow,” Yi said. “Also, we can only maintain the signal for a short time, while the moon is visible in both cities.”

  “How does the signal travel from Hawaii to the mainland?” Addie asked.

  “The American’s say it’s classified. I’m ninety percent certain they’re using an antiquated cold war cable the world forgot about.”

  “What is the purpose of your call?” Addie asked.

  “To inform you that the drones arrived intact and have been armed with fusion cannons. We will attack the invader in Beijing.”

  “When?”

  “It has begun. Contact with the enemy estimated in fifteen seconds. I will stream you a command-and-control video feed. Since our connection is slow, it will be grainy. The Ministry of State Security agreed to dispatch a fast yacht to Hawaii at the conclusion of the battle with a complete record of the engagement in the hope it may help you.”

  “Thank you,” Addie said.

  “Have you been able to manufacture your own fusion weapons?” Yi asked.

  “The first prototype was a success. We’re configuring a factory to begin mass production.”

  A low-resolution, pixelated video stream drifted on an infrared laser skyward from Shanghai, bounced off a mirror twentieth-century astronauts left on the moon’s Sea of Tranquility, and filtered down to Hawaii. Sensitive equipment at Naval Station Pearl Harbor decoded the message then re-encoded it for transmission along an ancient copper wire at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. Blocky patches of brown and gray resolved into towering skyscrapers and a battered cityscape. The perspective was from meters above a broad street, flying several hundred kilometers per hour. A Chinese voice said, “Enemy, one kilometer south. Activate automatic fire mode.” An orange flair lit the middle of the stuttering video. “A hit! It’s a hit,” the voice said. “We burned a hole in it. One down. Confirmed, one enemy down.” The video went black. The feed switched to another drone, attacking from another angle. A silvery smudge passed underneath, perhaps the alien struck by the first attack. Another patch of silver wrapped around something large and gray, a building perhaps. Another flash of orange. “It's a hit! We took out another one.”