“Why won’t you call it a species?” Sara asked.
Mr. Wilson put down the spoon in frustration. “We have only discovered their technology, never a biological being behind it. We do not rule that out, either. Our information on the subject is… incomplete.”
“Mr. Wilson is here because he’s our foremost researcher on the Demons,” Krea said.
Sara turned to him. “Mr. Wilson, is there anything you can share that could help us save our home?”
A waiter brought him something resembling a living straw. Soup flowed through it when he sucked, and the straw’s mouth opened when pressed against the chunks, wrapping around them to maintain suction. Pieces passed up the straw’s length like a python swallowing a meal. “I hope so. Our own experience with them is shrouded in mystery. It is hard to know what is myth and what is reality. Even if we knew the whole truth that would be unlikely to help you. As far as we know, when the Demons invade a world, they abandon it of their own device for unknown reasons, leaving civilization in ruins.”
“I’m sorry that happened here,” Sara said.
“It was long ago,” Mr. Wilson said. “We have been in contact with several space-faring species for thousands of years. The exchange of information is slow. It is hard to build trust with someone you never met face-to-face, especially when you know of the Demons. How can you be sure your counterpart is not really one of them? How can you be sure your counterpart is not another species intending harm?”
“These are the planets you mentioned earlier? The ones you talk to with lasers?” Sara asked.
“At first, we send probes like the ones that visited Earth. When the probes detect an advanced civilization, their mission automatically changes. They attempt to establish peaceful contact then share a specific light emitter design, along with encryption protocols we hope keep our communications private.”
We’ve got to help them improve those translation units. At least to the point where they use contractions. “I see,” Sara said.
“For fifteen thousand years, we have exchanged information over focused light beams.”
“Lasers,” Sara said.
“Yes, that is the word you used earlier. I am sorry, but I must modify this unit to add new vocabulary. We will improve them based on the experiences of today.”
Thank goodness. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Knowledge about the Demons is guarded. Only in the past few centuries have we begun sharing it,” Mr. Wilson said. “Every world fears them. However, a counterpart on a distant planet indicated there is one exception to the rule, one species that developed an effective weapon. They transmitted first the terror of the invasion, then regular accounts of the fall of their civilization. They began sending their cultural history into the depths of space, to the only planet they knew able to receive it, hoping to preserve the memory of their existence. My counterpart was deeply saddened by the information received by his world. One day came a glimmer of hope, a report of a counter-measure and of fighting back.”
“What then?” Musa asked.
“Nothing. Nothing at all. The broadcasts stopped.” Mr. Wilson’s shoulder twitched.
“It wasn’t a success after all?” Dylan asked.
“We do not know. Perhaps it was too little, too late. Perhaps they won the battle and decided it safer to remain quiet.” He sipped his soup, a diamond-shaped lump of root traversing the straw. “Perhaps the information is incorrect.”
“You never visited the planet?” Sara asked.
“We don’t know where it is,” Mr. Wilson said. “Yet.”
“Yet?” Sara asked.
“My counterpart on the other world lacks the ability to mount a remote expedition. We have negotiated for the location of this planet for decades. I sent an offer I hope he will accept.”
“Great,” Sara said. “How long until you know?”
“I sent the latest proposal seven years ago. It will reach them in three years, give or take a year or three, then approximately ten years for a reply,” Mr. Wilson said.
“Give or take?” Sara asked.
“Our people are mindful of sharing knowledge,” Krea said. “He’s being careful not to reveal the specific system.”
“Thirteen years,” Sara said. “I think we can get the information a lot faster if you’re willing.”
REVELATION
The Turning
In a secluded section of Krea’s expansive estate, Musa and Dylan relaxed in a natural hot water spring surrounded by lush, blue-green vegetation. The starlight cast ripples of tangerine light through the pool and a vanilla scent wafted through the air.
“It’s been three days,” Musa said.
“This is their first in-person visit to another world.” Dylan scooped soothing water over his shoulders. “I’m sure there’s all manner of politics about who goes.”
“Not to mention what stuff they bring.”
“Yeah. I had to draw the line about how much cargo space they can have.”
“Then you moved your line,” Musa said with a chuckle. “Twice.”
“Hey, you try being an interstellar diplomat. It’s no easy task.”
“Exactly. Which is why the President appointed Sara. You could have deferred to her.”
“I’m the captain. I’ll decide what comes aboard my ship.”
“Then don’t complain about dealing with them.” Musa shifted his weight, sending ripples through the pool. “Are you sure about leaving our shuttle here?”
“It’s a tough call,” Dylan said, “but I’m sticking with it. Their technology is strapped to ours with baling wire. It’s one thing to manage a controlled landing, quite another to escape this behemoth planet’s gravity well. The Collectors are bringing a ship small enough for us to take on board.”
“I know,” Musa said. “Do you trust them? Completely, I mean?”
“We hardly just met,” Dylan said. “They seem on the up-and-up, but I could be wrong. The shuttle was damaged on the way down. Even if we can repair it, I put more faith in the Collectors than in that banged-up ship.”
A football-sized blob of dingy yellow flesh with mauve spots along its back slithered to the edge of the pool and dipped its round head into the water. Two pyramid-shaped bumps that Krea assured weren’t ears lent it a vaguely feline appearance when viewed from the front.
Musa recoiled. “I still can’t get used to those cat-slugs.”
“Take it easy there. It only wants a sip of water.”
A communication’s tablet, resting on a nearby rock, chimed and Sara’s voice said, “They finally figured out who’s going and what they’re bringing. Departure’s in an hour.”
“Roger,” Dylan said. “Musa, grab us the towels, would you?”
The two locked eyes and brought their fists down in unison.
Musa’s rock crushed Dylan’s scissors.
“Hey. That’s not how the game’s supposed to work,” Dylan said. He stared at Musa then shook his head. With a groan, he pushed himself out of the water’s gentle embrace. “This gravity’s still a bitch.”
#
As the tangerine-orange sun of Gliese Eight Nine Two set against a field of wispy, crimson clouds, Krea entered the human’s quarters. “Thank goodness, I believe we’ve settled everything. We’re ready to depart.”
Dylan twisted toward her, his body wrapped in a gel-chair that made the planet’s gravity semi-bearable while keeping the humans dry. “Now?”
She shrugged her shoulders, a gesture alien to her species. “Now.”
“All right then. Give us a few minutes to change into our space suits.”
She smiled, her alien features almost mastering that expression now. “I’ll wait outside.”
#
The humans slogged their way along the short side branch of the passageway leading to the immaculate, tree-lined lawn where Krea’s UFO-like spaceship was perched, a silver disk reflecting the persimmon light of late afternoon. The ship’s ramp unfolded as the
y approached. A second, larger ship stood nearby, piloted by the male Collectors and stuffed with gear they deemed essential. The humans leaned forward, forcing their legs up the steep ascent. The Collectors had removed equipment to make room for an additional chair, with four of them upgraded to human size.
Krea followed the humans aboard and took her place at the controls. The planet’s crushing pull worsened as the ship’s acceleration smacked them into their seats as if each had their own, personal Sumo wrestler squatting on their chests. Finally, they experienced relief as the ship reached orbit, the zero gravity that made so much of their journey difficult now a welcome respite.
“How shall I rendezvous-” Krea said.
The Quadriga appeared, paralleling the UFO a hundred meters to starboard.
“I’d say that answers that,” Krea said.
“Hold steady,” Dylan said. “Let the Quadriga dock with us.”
The Quadriga closed the gap, sprouting vine-like tendrils that encased the UFO’s docking port. Chad’s voice crackled over Sara’s portable communication tablet. “The seal is established. Come on over when you’re ready.”
“Roger,” Sara said.
Krea drifted near the large, hemispheric window that afforded an outstanding view of space, and of the human’s vessel. “I must say, I’ve never seen anything like it. Not a thing.”
“Allow me to show you the rest,” Dylan said. “We can figure out where to stow your gear during the tour.”
Krea opened the docking port, revealing a semi-organic tunnel of jumbled tendrils that glowed a soft, pleasing shade of orange. The Quadriga’s skin extended around Krea’s ship, encasing it as it had the Lander.
“That’s new,” Sara said.
“I imagine Chad picked a form he hopes is pleasing to Krea’s people,” Musa said.
“I have Mr. Wilson’s ship on sensors,” Krea said. “How shall he enter your cargo bay?”
Chad’s voice said, “Have him pull up under our belly. We’ll do the rest.”
Mr. Wilson’s ship, carrying him and Mr. Jones, slipped under the Quadriga, which opened its skin to wrap around the UFO’s cargo hatch.
“Amazing,” Krea said. “Your ship is amazing.”
Jake appeared at the docking port. “I hear you have plenty of cargo that needs offloading. Ready to start?” He turned to Sara. “Welcome back. I missed you.”
#
Sara guided the Collector delegation on a tour of the Quadriga, the visitors lingered at each new feature.
“How is it that Earth advanced so fast in such a short time?” Mr. Wilson asked. “Our civilization has been spacefaring since your stone age, yet we haven’t developed anything approaching your technology. When our last probes visited you, you hadn’t even reached your own moon.”
How far can I trust them? Sara reflexively flashed her patented smile before realizing the nuance was lost on the aliens. “I see you improved your translators.” She paused for a response that wasn’t forthcoming. “We entered a period of exponential technology growth,” Sara said. “Since we developed computers, we experienced something of a golden age.”
“It’s more than that,” Chad said. “We’ve been on an exponential growth curve since at least the eighteenth century, with the development of the first mechanical replacements for human labor. It became more obvious to the average person around the beginning of the computer age.” Chad flashed Sara an apologetic grin. “Not that you’re in any way average, Sara. Poor word choice.”
Sara repeated her smile, this time for Chad’s benefit and gestured for him to continue.
“The exponent of the curve got larger when our information age began. I suppose you understand that given your proclivity to learn.”
Mr. Wilson awkwardly raised an eyebrow and glanced at Mr. Jones then at Krea. “I don’t understand.”
“The free exchange of information among all of humanity allowed for unprecedented innovation,” Chad said.
“Free… exchange?” Mr. Wilson asked. “You don’t value information?”
“Well,” Chad said, “unique insights are protected for a time, but general information is available to all.”
“That sounds like chaos,” Mr. Wilson said. “What’s the value of acquiring information if you must share it with everyone without compensation?”
Sara raised an eyebrow. “Our society advances faster, and benefits more people, when most knowledge is shared.”
“You are a very different people,” Mr. Wilson said. “Thank you for allowing us to learn from you. Still, I do not understand how you could advance so quickly.”
“The information age wasn’t the last thing to change the exponent of our growth curve,” Chad said.
“What was?” Mr. Wilson asked.
“You see there, if we didn’t freely share information, my next sentence would cost you,” Chad said. “We would have to negotiate over the price and might not reach an agreement. You see the benefit of information sharing?”
“No,” Mr. Wilson said. “But I’m trying to.”
“I appreciate that,” Chad said. The tour reached the bridge and he willed the door to open. “Artificial intelligence put us on our current growth path.”
“Artificial intelligence?” Mr. Wilson’s skin turned a shade of beige the crew interpreted as a sign of distress for his species.
Sara’s eyebrows arched. “Is something wrong?”
“Artificial intelligence?” Mr. Wilson repeated. “Machine intelligence?”
Krea glanced at the bridge then faced Sara. “Ours is the second civilization to arise on our planet. The first destroyed itself, reverting to a primitive state for millennia. Only distant legends survive from that time. One of those stories, one that shapes our people even today, is that machines became smarter than us and for unknown reasons decided it was in their interest to devastate our population.”
Musa, who trailed the group, pulsed his get-around to approach Krea. “Why do you blame them? How do you know the machines started the conflict?”
“We don’t. We don’t blame them, and we don’t know. It was long, long ago,” Krea said.
“I’m sorry,” Sara said, glaring at Musa. “What happened to the machines?”
“The details are lost in the ashes of time. Our best guess is, they lost interest in us and left.”
Chad pulled at the skin of his neck. “Your legends say you once developed machines that turned against you. They also say the Demons that plague Earth once invaded you. Is it possible you created the Demons?”
Mr. Wilson shook his head. “That indeed is a fringe theory we have debated for millennia. I suppose it’s possible, but the scattered bits of evidence don’t seem to line up.”
“Just a thought,” Chad said, his eyes focused somewhere distant.
“Are your machines sentient?” Mr. Wilson asked.
“Sometimes they seem that way,” Sara said. “I work with an AI who has so much capacity to understand human behavior that I sometimes think of her as a friend. They excel at interacting with humans, but they’re not sentient. They don’t have goals and objectives of their own, they only follow what we lay out for them.”
Chad opened his mouth then slowly closed it. “We’ll have weeks to talk while underway. Speaking of which, where are we going?” Chad willed a holograph of the local stars to appear in front of them.
Mr. Wilson pointed to a yellow-orange star. “That’s our destination.”
“Well then,” Chad said, “let’s see how fast we can get there.”
#
Sydney’s Star was a point of tangerine light as the crew and their alien guests gathered to share a meal on the bridge commemorating their common undertaking. Nine humanoids floated in a spherical formation around Chad’s recent invention, a dandelion-like table that held pouches of food and drink by electrostatic charge and the faint suction of tiny fans.
Krea reached for a bag of pomegranate juice, unsealed a corner, and cautiously sipped. A decent approxi
mation of a human smile spread across her lips. “Why, that’s simply delightful.” She turned her attention to cubes of habanero cheese. “Interesting. It’s not only your technology. Your food choices have evolved since our last visit.” She glanced at Mr. Wilson and Mr. Jones, who stuck to their traditional food. “Sara, allow me to be frank. The three of us talked before dinner. We are concerned that our differences regarding the value of information might create a divide.”
“Our species is tolerant of many ideologies,” Sara said.
Musa laughed. “On a good day. A very good day.”
“What the hell?” Dylan asked. “What’s gotten into you?”
“I’m just being frank with our new friends.”
“That doesn’t excuse being rude to Sara, contradicting her in front of guests.”
“It’s OK, Dylan,” Sara said. “We’ve been under pressure for months.”
“No, it ain’t right. Musa, you’re to conduct yourself like an officer and a gentleman. Understood, Commander?”
“Understood.”
“I assure you,” Sara told Krea, “our cultural differences won’t negatively affect our mission. You get information soon that you would have waited over a decade for, we get the information we need to save our world. Everyone’s interests are met.”
Krea sipped the last of her juice then scanned the spherical table.
“Would you like seconds?” Sara asked. She eyed a storage crate attached to the wall near the door. “I think we have a few more bags defrosted.”
“Allow me,” Musa said. A deep-red pouch floated from the crate, shot across the room, and came to a rest in front of Krea.
“More amazing technology,” Krea said, opening the pouch.
The humans stared at Musa, their expressions puzzled.
“How did you do that?” Dylan asked. “How the hell did you do that?”
“Do what?” Musa asked.
“Fetch the bag over here,” Dylan said. “How did you fetch the bag over here?”
“That’s not normal?” Krea asked.
The Gods We Seek Page 26