“Negative,” said another Chinese voice. “We grazed it, it’s still moving.”
There was a burst of static and the video faded. Yi’s crackling voice said, “The moon is moving out of range. Convey our thanks to the Ameri-”
The Museum
The crew followed Krea, Mr. Jones, and Mr. Wilson down a short side branch of the passageway they used the previous night. It led to a grassy lawn fenced in by well-tended, bluish trees with broad, twisting leaves. In the center of the grass was an honest-to-goodness UFO, like the one Krea intercepted them with and the one they found crashed under a mountain on a distant world. The silvery saucer was open on the near side, part of the wall unfolded into a ramp.
“We’re taking that?” Sara asked. She and Dylan exchanged glances.
“Yes,” Krea said. “It’s a short trip to our largest moon. It’s perfectly safe, but if you prefer to take your own ship…”
“No,” Sara said. “We’re delighted for you to transport us.” The way the Lander almost fell apart on the way down, it’s the safest option.
They trudged up the ramp. Inside, under a transparent dome, were four seats, low to the ground but broad enough. Gliese Eight-Nine-Twoian-sized seats.
“I’m sorry,” Krea said. “We didn’t have time to make new chairs to fit your form. I’ll be sure that’s done before the return trip.”
“No worries,” Musa said, squeezing into one. He looked like a parent at a kindergarten back-to-school night. “You’re not joining us?”
“Each ship holds four. Another will pick us up the moment you depart,” Krea said. “Don’t worry. We’ll be right behind you.”
“This ship will fly automatically?” Sara asked.
“Yes, it flies itself,” Krea said.
“I wish you a pleasant journey,” Mr. Wilson said through his pendant.
The ramp folded shut and the UFO, for lack of a better term, fell upward. Takeoff was far gentler than blast-off from Earth, even with the planet’s baseline two g’s. Between the gradual acceleration and the thick atmosphere, the trip to space was long. Unlike a conventional rocket blast-off, the acceleration continued after they reached space. A second UFO appeared next to them, Krea and the two other aliens clearly visible.
“The journey will take an hour,” Krea said through a video panel. “If you like, I’d be happy to share information about our moon to help pass the time.” She lectured at length, beginning from primitive legends associated the large moon and two smaller, more distant ones, covered the era of scientific observation, and told a story about the first time her species traveled to that moon. She concluded with, “We expect our efforts to re-establish an atmosphere on the moon will result in a breathable environment within a century. Come to think of it, humans will probably be able to tolerate it a bit sooner, perhaps a few decades from now.”
The saucer drifted toward a broad crater, dusty in the center, with patches of green fringing the top and dotting the outside slopes. In its center, a vast structure came into view, low-set and curved along the edges, its color matching the natural terrain. They set down in a circular annex of the main building. Moments later, the other ship landed nearby, then a domed roof closed over the area.
“We’re establishing an atmosphere,” Krea said. “It’ll be just a moment now.”
A wall of the ship unfolded, granting access to the outside. “I suppose that’s our cue,” Sara said, pushing up from her seat. “It feels like Earth gravity. Maybe a little less.” She strode down the ramp, the others following close behind.
Krea and her companions joined them. “This way, if you please,” she said. Krea led them to a tube, the floor of which was a moving walkway with three zones. The slowest, outermost was red, followed by an intermediate yellow band, then a fast, violet band. Krea stepped onto the red stripe and worked her way inward, traveling faster with each move. The others followed.
The conveyor carried them to a vast, squat, transparent hemisphere inside the building. It was over a kilometer across and they were on a viewing platform a hundred meters up.
“Oh my God,” Sara said, mouth agape.
They looked down upon a vintage, nineteen-fifties small town complete with a hardware store, cinema, church, and town hall. People, human people, walked the streets as if living out an ordinary Small Town, USA life on a moon orbiting a planet over twenty light years from Earth.
#
“What the hell’s going on?” Dylan asked. Is this a goddamn trap? “What have you done with those people?”
“Done?” Krea asked. “We merely brought them here for further study. I assure you, we take excellent care of them.”
“They’re in a cage,” Dylan said.
“Dylan.” Sara rested a hand on his shoulder. “Krea, why are they here?”
“I told you,” Krea said. “We collected them as specimens. When our probes visited Earth almost a century ago, you were a primitive species. You hadn’t even visited your own moon. We had no way of knowing you would advance so fast.”
“It’s a zoo,” Dylan said. “A god-damned zoo.”
“Yes,” Krea said. “I can see why you would label it a zoo. It’s more of a combination research facility and museum.”
Are we the next exhibit? Dylan took a deep, cleansing breath. “So, you’re saying we’re advanced enough for you now? You will stop collecting us?”
“Yes,” Krea said. “Direct interaction is possible now that your species is sufficiently advanced.”
“Direct interaction, how?” Dylan asked, arms crossed over his chest.
Mr. Wilson took a half-step toward Dylan. “We exchange information with other advanced worlds using lightwave communication.”
“Lasers?” Dylan asked.
“I am not familiar with that word,” Mr. Wilson’s pendant said.
“A focused, coherent beam of light.”
“Yes. That sounds right.” Mr. Wilson stepped back.
“I see this upsets you,” Krea said. “That was not my intention.” She looked at her alien companions. “We thought you would find it interesting to glimpse your history.”
Dylan ignored the searing glance Sara shot at him. “We have films that document the nineteen-fifties in plenty of detail.”
“I see,” Krea said. “Would you like a peek at your pre-history? Want to see a real-life caveman?”
“You have-” Dylan said. “How?”
“We visited your world over an extensive period. Our ancestors took to the stars twenty thousand years ago and Earth is not far away.” Krea gestured toward another moving walkway that traveled in a great arc over the Small Town enclosure and beyond. “This way?”
Dylan moved to follow Krea, but Sara grabbed his elbow and yanked it toward her. “Cool your jets, Cowboy.” There was no playfulness in her tone.
Dylan shook his head. “It ain’t right, Sara. They have people locked up.”
“Yes, they do. But these aliens are the best lead we have to save ten billion people back on Earth. Triage the problems, Dylan.”
He nodded. “You’re right. Of course, you are. Shit.”
Krea turned back. “Are you coming?”
“Yes,” Sara said with her trademark smile. “Right behind you.”
#
The caveman enclosure was a good deal wider than Small Town. Craggy peaks unclimbable by the inhabitants disguised narrow, almost transparent supports to shore up the load of a larger dome. Between the peaks was a broad plain with a river running through it, leading to a placid lake at one end of the habitat.
Musa pointed to the lake shore. “Mammoths.”
“From here, they look just like the ones at the D.C. Zoo,” Sara said. “I’d love to see them up close.”
“I’m glad to oblige,” Krea said. She ran her finger over the dome wall and an image of the herd appeared on it. She showed Sara how to pan and zoom.”
“They’re not exactly the same,” Sara said. “I wonder how much of that is natural variation
in the species and how much is errors in the zoo’s genetic reconstruction.”
“Look,” Ji-min said, pointing to a slow-moving bump in the grass.
Sara panned the magnified view. “Hunters approaching the herd. They look like a museum reconstruction. How long have they been here?”
“Oh, these aren’t the original inhabitants we brought twelve thousand years ago. They lived their natural life and perished long ago. These are distant descendants.”
“They haven’t evolved?” Musa asked.
“There’s little evolutionary pressure,” Krea said. “But we also have protocols to limit genetic drift.” She turned to Musa and attempted a smile. “You’re part Middle Eastern, aren’t you? Egyptian?”
“On my mother’s side, yes,” Musa said. “My father’s ancestry is Irish.”
Krea reached toward his cheek but stopped short. “May I?”
Musa nodded.
She traced his cheek and jawline with her index finger. “You inherited a great deal from your mother.”
“Yes,” Musa said. “If I don’t talk too much, I can pass for Arab,” he said with a white, toothy smile.
“Was that hard for you? When we last visited your world, American society was intolerant toward racial minorities,” Krea said.
“Yeah, it was tough being a brown kid in Boston. America was still fighting a war that started when a group of fanatics from the Middle East destroyed a pair of skyscrapers. The attack was years before I was born, but somehow the white kids blamed me.” His broad shoulders slumped. “My parents always told me, ‘Nobody is better because of the color of their skin. In a good world, people are better because of their skills and talents. In a perfect world, we're not concerned with whether we're better, but with helping others be the best version of themselves.’”
“That’s very enlightened for a prima-” Krea caught herself. “I’m glad your cultural development seems to keep pace with your technological advances. That’s not always what happens.” She touched his shoulder. “Would you like to see how your ancestors lived? What they looked like? How they spoke?”
“I would,” Musa said.
“If you would be so kind as to follow me,” Krea said. She stepped on another moving band, this one taking them around the circumference of the caveman enclosure and into another building of the museum complex.
“Krea,” Sara said, “our conversations are awkward referring to your people as Gliese Eight Nine Twoians, but we’re hesitant to use another term you may find offensive. Seeing all this,” she gestured toward the cavemen below, “a name strikes me as fitting, at least until we better understand your language. Collectors. How do you find that name?”
“Most suitable,” Krea said, “and in no way offensive.”
“Collectors it is,” Sara said.
The conveyor carried them to the Egyptian enclosure, which was a touch smaller than the caveman display but still massive. Desert sands gave way to a thin band of palm trees, shrubs, and reeds along a broad river. Nestled among the greenery were small buildings, huts that together formed a village. People worked along the water’s edge, filling jugs, casting fishing nets, cleaning tools.
Musa’s eyes widened, and he leaned toward the dome. “Amazing. Simply amazing.”
“I always said you should visit your homeland,” Dylan said. “Who knew it would happen like this?”
“Would you like to see artifacts we brought back from the period?” Mr. Wilson asked.
“Yes,” Musa said. “I have seen museum displays on Earth many times. It would be fascinating to see how you perceive my ancestors.”
Mr. Wilson led the group along a short corridor into a room that could have been at home in the Smithsonian back on Earth. Some usual trappings were on display but also many items of daily life, in flawless condition, that would never have survived millennia in the desert yet were perfectly preserved here. In the room's center, on a raised platform, rested a peculiar structure. It was an open pyramid shape, seven or eight meters tall, constructed of worn, brass-like beams. In the corners where they met, the metal had the luster of polished silver. In the center was a meter-diameter, jade sphere that seemed to float waist high.
“There must be a mistake,” Musa said. “The pyramid shape is familiar, but the Egyptians never made anything like this.”
“No mistake,” Krea said. “My grandfather oversaw the expedition that collected this item. It was retrieved in thirteen thirty-five BC by your calendar and arrived here fifty-two years later.” She attempted a smile which was becoming less unnatural with practice. “I agree, though, that humans didn’t make it.”
#
“What do you mean, ‘Humans didn’t make it’?” Sara asked.
“Exactly that,” Krea said. “The technology is far beyond anything humans could have made then.”
“The metalwork would be extraordinary, though theoretically within their ability,” Sara said.
“Not that. I mean the anti-gravity.”
“Anti-?” Sara leaned forward and drew her brows together. “The sphere? I assumed it was suspended by a thin column or wire.”
“Yes, the sphere. We developed our own anti-gravity technology by careful study of that artifact.”
“But,” Sara said, “doesn’t that technology require power?”
“It does. We’re not sure how it generates the power, but it hasn’t faded in over three thousand years. It’s a topic of ongoing research.”
Musa stepped toward the pyramid, eyes wide and jaw slack then paused. “May I?”
“Please, be my guest,” Mr. Wilson said.
His steps a mix of hesitation and excitement, Musa entered the pyramid. He stood before the levitating sphere and extended a cautious hand, feeling the smooth, warm surface under his fingertips. The sphere became an absence of light, a void in reality, and the pyramid’s metal edges glowed brilliant red. A haunting voice rung out from everywhere and nowhere, the words an unintelligible chant. “Mu ha ya kutoa bu teno dayanda.”
“What have you done?” Krea shouted.
Musa’s gaze fixed on the darkness below his fingers.
Dylan rushed to his side. “You OK?” He gently removed Musa’s hand from the orb. “Talk to me.”
The chanting stopped, the sphere was again of jade, and the metal was again simply metal. “What… what happened?” Musa asked.
“Are you all right?” Dylan grasped Musa’s shoulder and scrutinized his friend.
Musa touched his chest and abdomen with trembling fingers. “I… I think so, yes. I’m a bit shook up, but I think I’m fine. What happened?”
“I’m not sure,” Dylan said. “It’s like something activated the moment you touched the sphere. So, don’t do that again?”
Musa nodded, his features still a confused daze.
Krea regained her composure. “Mr. Malik, if you don’t mind, I should like to examine you. This has never happened in the millennia the pyramid was with us. In fact, I should like to examine each of you.”
“You’ll have our cooperation,” Sara said.
“Excellent,” Krea said, turning away from the pyramid. Her eyes lingered on it as she pivoted toward the exit. “For now, I suggest we go somewhere to talk. Over lunch, perhaps? It’s getting to be that time.”
“I could do with a bite,” Dylan said, still scrutinizing the pyramid.
Krea led them a short way to a small room overlooking a swamp-like habitat filled with plants and creatures none of the humans recognized. One species used pointed sticks to fish and wove grass to make hammocks in the trees. She gestured to a round, wooden table. Four of the chairs were human-sized, alternating with the shorter yet broad chairs better suited to their hosts. “Please be seated,” she said.
Mr. Wilson took a seat next to Musa. “Mr. Malik, how do you feel?”
“I don’t know,” Musa said. “Fine, I suppose. I’m still processing the experience.”
Mr. Jones sat on Musa’s other side. “Tell us about the
experience. How would you describe it on an emotional level?”
Musa lowered his chin and pulled his lips tight. “Haunting, if I had to pick one word.”
“Interesting,” Mr. Wilson said. “Did you see or hear anything the others might not have?”
Musa described hearing the same chant the others did. His gaze was transfixed on the black orb during the experience.
“Now, let’s not interrogate our guest,” Krea said. “Not on an empty stomach.”
A pair of aliens, dressed in a manner similar to Mr. Jones and Mr. Wilson, brought trays of food. They served hamburgers and French fries for the humans and Krea, and a thick soup with a pale-yellow, chunky-cut root floating in it for the male Collectors.
Mr. Wilson stirred his broth with a broad spoon.
“You use spoons?” Sara asked.
“Goodness, no,” Krea said. “It’s, how should I put this? Ah. It’s a Terran-themed restaurant.”
Mr. Wilson tried his food, slurping loudly. “Pardon me,” he said through his pendant.
“The tour is fascinating,” Dylan said. “But I feel like we’re dancing around something here.”
Krea shifted her facial muscles, an awkward approximation of raising an eyebrow.
“We’re not talking about why we’re here in the first place,” Dylan said.
Sara shot Dylan a quieting glance then leaned forward and let out a breath. “Please tell us what you know about the invasion of Earth. About what we call Demons.”
Krea set down her burger. “We have pieced together information. From our own ancient history, from our visits to other worlds. From worlds we are in communication with. There is a force, I won’t call it a species, active within at least a two hundred fifty light year radius of here. Maybe more, maybe a lot more. That’s the limit of our reliable information.”
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