Dragonstar Destiny (18 page)

And if he couldn’t ... well, it was better going out feeling fully alive and in command than to check out in disgrace and demoted.

This would be the redemption of Colonel Phineas Kemp.

He just
knew
it.

As the OTV roared ahead, Kemp thought.

After a time, he spoke.

“Okay, this is it,” he said with a decisive edge to his deep and resonant voice. “We get back, we regroup. We arm ourselves and we get the Saurians in order, tell them what is going on. You can take care of that, can’t you, Kate? You’ve become somewhat the Saurian expert.”

“Sure. And they love to fight. They’ll be very excited, I’m sure,” Kate said tartly, not sounding at all excited about the prospect.

“Fight those things we saw come out
of
the hatch?” Becky said in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me! It was child’s play for them to deal with capturing almost all of our party! Imagine if they really meant business.”

“Defense on our part, stubbornness,” said Kemp, “can only be construed as a sign of intelligent and resourceful beings. Perhaps a little concerted force on our part will make them want to
try
to communicate with us ... Something they refused to do a little while ago. Respect for the opponent goes a long way in establishing treaties.”

“Treaties! Those things can squash us like cockroaches!” Becky said, exasperated. “Why should they settle for a treaty?”

“Very simple. We’re desperate, right? We’ll use a little military tactic that Marcus Jashad himself might have devised. We shall continue to attempt to communicate with the beings via the radios back at the camp. And we shall promise them that if they get too close to us, we’ll blow the whole
Dragonstar.
Apparently
they very much want the ship itself, and its inhabitants. This will at least make them attempt to communicate, parlay.”

Becky was stunned and said nothing.

“Are you serious?” Kate demanded. “How could we possibly threaten to blow the
Dragonstar
up? I mean, can we?”

“For all intents and purposes, yes—it should be easy enough to rig up a bomb to blow a hole through the control-section big enough to depressurize the whole interior before there was any chance of repair.”

“You’re crazy!” said Becky.

“Drastic times call for drastic measures,” Kemp said assertively. “You have any alternative plans?”

“Can’t we just say we’ve rigged up a bomb, and not actually do it?” Kate said.

“Look, if the aliens are as technically capable as they seem to be, I’m sure they’d be able to sniff out a bluff, pronto. Now, I’m not saying that I would ever actually set this bomb off ... Just rig it. Hopefully the aliens will know little human psychology, and they will assume we’re in a totally irrational state. All I’m after is a chance to talk with them, and so
far they haven’t bothered to try. We’re just forcing them to.”

“Whew,” said Becky. “For a moment I thought you really had gone nuts, Phineas.”

“We have to make the aliens believe I’m just that,” Kemp said.

“And then, though, what are we going to actually
say
to the aliens?” asked Kate.

“Good question. Give us back our crew members or we’ll blow this ship up? Then give us a ticket on the next starbus to Earth?” Becky demanded.

“Communication is of primary importance. As soon as they understand who we are and what we need, there’s a chance. But without communications, there’s no hope at all. That’s what we’re playing a gambit here for.”

“But this might blow up in our faces, if the actual bomb doesn’t,” Becky objected. “l mean, the aliens are going to think they’re dealing with the equivalent of terrorists! And they might deal harshly.”

“No. Once we’ve
communicated
—and I cannot emphasize that word enough—we can simply tell them that it was all a trick to force them into talking. Whether they appreciate the joke and the strategy or not, we’re still talking... and there’s the chance of talking our way out of this situation. Otherwise, we’re absolutely nowhere.”

Becky gestured a surrender. “I guess you’re right. I certainly can’t think of a better plan. I suppose I just don’t like this bomb business. At all.”

“That’s simple enough. We’ll try to communicate via radio first, with no threat. If we get a reasonable response, there will be no threat. If we get no response, however, we shall prepare the explosive device.” Kemp seemed very pleased with his compromise.

“That’s an excellent idea,” Kate said. “You really haven’t lost it, have you, Phineas?”

Kemp smiled grimly. “Let’s hope not, Kate. If I have, then we’re all lost.”

They drove on, negotiating a hilly area.

After consulting the directional readout for navigation, Kemp directed Kate Ennis to take a turn around a very large boulder. Only a few more miles, he noted. A few more miles, a few more minutes, and we can start getting this thing together, start hauling our nuts out of the fire.

“Oh my God!” yelled Kate as she completed a turn.

Standing directly in their paths was a triceratops.

Frantically Kate Ennis hauled on the wheel, and the OTV skimmed over two large rocks.

“Watch out!” Kemp cried.

The wheel was wrenched from the woman’s hand as the triceratops instinctively charged, striking the side of the boulder hard.

The last thing Kemp heard was Becky’s scream, and then he was thrown into darkness.

“MISHIMA!”
called a voice. “Mishima Takamura!”

The man felt as though he were being summoned from the depths of the dead. Bits and pieces of his consciousness seemed to materialize from nowhere and to collect into a face. A woman’s face, blurry,

“Becky?” he mumbled. His firstborn thoughts were for Becky, naked and offguard.

Imaginary brunette changed to blonde the moment before the woman spoke, and he knew it wasn’t Rebecca Thalberg. “Mishima. It’s Mikaela. Mikaela Lindstrom.” The soft lines of her face flowed into recognizable form, and the bright blue of her eyes stared down at him sympathetically.

His awareness instantly snapped to his attention. He sat up and he looked around. “Where are we?” he asked immediately, though the question was more rhetorical than anything else. They were clearly in some sort of room, and clearly there were other inhabitants. Mishima focused and recognized them: Dr. Robert Jakes, James Barkham, and the Saurian known as Thesaurus.

They all seemed as perplexed as he was and they all looked as though they’d just regained consciousness as well.

“I don’t know,” said Dr, Jakes. “We could be on the alien ship, we could be on a planet. There’s no telling how long we’ve been out.”

The room was rectangular, about ten meters long, four high, and six deep. The walls were a beige alloy of some sort, as were the ceiling and the floor. There was no sign of a door.

Fully one half of the room was occupied by the couch-like expanse that they lay or sat on. It was a dark grey, with patches of white and black, and it was covered in an oddly pliant fabric.

“What ... what happened?” Mishima said, rubbing his head.

“That’s right. You were one of the first the things took out. Well, they stunned us all,” said Barkham. “And they hauled us away. Seems obvious enough.” He sat morosely in a corner, as though awaiting execution.

“No, you are not correct.” Thesaurus said through his digital translator device. “I saw a vehicle depart. Someone escaped.”

“As though that will do them any good,” said Mikaela. “They’ll get caught as well, soon enough.”

“Well, we weren’t killed. There’s a plus,” said Jakes. “And they’ve allowed us company. They probably don’t know what to make of us yet. They want to study us.”

“I don’t understand,” said Mishima. “Why didn’t they even try to communicate?”

Barkham shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe their policy is to stun first and ask questions later. It’s difficult to say when you’re dealing with aliens. And of course that’s not exactly something that we do every day, now is it?”

Mishima shook his head to relieve himself of his grogginess. The last-remembered images shot through his head: the floating alien-bubbles, the streams of energy, the feeling of being hit by a very large truck. “So I guess we’ll just have to sit and wait for their next move.”

“No, actually I rather fancied a jog around the park first!” Barkham said sarcastically.

“Hey, there’s no reason for anger,” Mikaela said, hopping off the couch and pacing. “I mean, we’re still alive and we’re absolutely unharmed. Just shaken up a bit. Doubtless we’ll find out what’s going on soon enough. Let’s take Thesaurus’s example. He’s taking all this very well. And no wonder ... he’s run into aliens before. Haven’t you, Thesaurus?”

“I live and I continue to learn,” said Thesaurus. “I am open to the new and the wonderful. I am grateful for every new experience before I must expire. And, I confess,” said the lizard-man, “I am very eager indeed to speak to the Makers of my home.”

“You see! We should all take it this philosophically!” said Mikaela. “We are privileged!”

“Privileged?” Barkham said. “To get bashed on the head and dragged into an alien spaceship? Yeah, maybe I’m in a bad mood and maybe I should get a little more positive ... But I refuse to agree that I’m privileged!”

Takamura got off the couch and stretched. He then began exercising out the tightness in his muscles. “I suspect that we can argue all we like, and we shall still remain in the same situation. We may as well be stoical about it. That is, while we examine the walls for any possible exit!” He grinned.

Dr. Jakes had to laugh. “And why not? First thing rats do when they get put in a new cage is to try to find a way out.”

It was a short search, and they found nothing, but Mishima felt better that they had at least examined their environment thoroughly.

He settled back on the huge couch in a comfortable position. “So much for that. I wonder if we’re going to be fed and watered.”

No sooner had he spoken than a portion of the central couch slid back and a small table elevated. On the table were five bowls of brownish gruel and five cups of clear water.

“Ask and ye shall receive,” said Mikaela, crawling over to the table. She examined one of the bowls and stuck a finger in it, tasting it.

“Tastes like oatmeal, but less flavor,” she said, making a face.

“Next time I’ll be more specific,” said Mishima.

Mikaela volunteered to be the first to eat and drink. She did so, with no ill effects. Mishima found the food to be as tasteless as Mikaela had indicated. But it was surprisingly filling and doubtlessly nutritious. Even Thesaurus had no trouble getting it down.

“Looks like our needs were specifically analyzed and met,” said Dr. Jakes.

“Which means we’re being more than watched,” Mikaela said. “God alone knows what kind of devices they’ve got tuned in on us!”

“Not a pleasant thought at all,” said Barkham, though the food seemed to have cheered him up a little. “I would think, though, that if they’re going to be offering us our food, there should at least be some kind of sanitary facilities!”

No sooner had he spoken than a door in the side of the room opened. They all blinked.

Dr. Jakes, who was closest, examined what lay beyond the new door. He came back with a bemused look on his face. “It’s a toilet. A toilet and a sink, and towels!”

“How thoughtful,” said Mikaela. “They’ve even provided us with a modicum of privacy!”

Mishima sprang up from the couch, addressing the walls. “Thank you!” he said. “Thank you very much. We truly appreciate your hospitality!”

The others looked at him as though he were crazy.

“Well, clearly they can understand what we’re saying,” said Mishima.

“All right,” said Barkham. “Why don’t you ask them where the hell we are!”

Mishima turned and addressed the walls again. “Is there any way that you’d be willing to communicate with us? We’d like to know where we are now, and what you intend on doing with us.”

There was a moment of silence.

And then the whole wall by the couch came alive with colors. The change was so abrupt that Mishima recoiled with shock.

He noticed that the others had responded in just the same way, as though a sudden wave of fire had washed through the metal side of the room attempting to engulf them. But the three-dimensional quality of the colors retreated into flat images, utilizing light and shadow to illustrate depth.

There was a sun, burning in the night ...

It was a hazy reddish star, an occasional solar flare licking out into the darkness toward its planets. This full image of a sun dissolved into a representational view of the same star, much smaller now and surrounded by planets ... and by something else. Another slow dissolve took the view from this system to an all-too-familiar object, drifting against a starscape:

The Dragonstar.

“It’s showing us the star system we’re in,” said Mikaela, the first to recover use of her tongue. “It’s saying, ‘This is where you are’!”

“Obviously,” said Barkham. “But what good does that do for us?”

“Shhh,” said Dr. Jakes. “I’m concentrating.”

The image of the
Dragonstar
faded away, to be replaced by the image of a huge grey planet—a planet without the usual features of continents and seas or clouds. Its entirety consisted of the geometric panorama of buildings of incredible heights, and fields of metal. Crystal sparkled in the sun on the day side, and on the night, strange colored lights burned.

“The central planet of the First Race,” Barkham muttered, disobeying his own request. But no one seemed to mind—they were too busy staring at this incredible sight with awe.

As they watched, the images began to change faster, flashing down onto the surface of the metal planet and then
within.

The viewers gasped. It was all too much to take in. Alien image piled upon alien image, and it felt to Mishima Takamura that his brain was overloading with the implications all these sights presented.

There were views of cities with unimaginably odd denizens roaming the streets. There were glimpses into alien biomes with the most fantastic of plants. And there was the sequence in which the wall showed corridor after corridor descending deep into the heart of this world, walls undulating with flashing lights and alien circuitry. And all through these wandered a most unlikely bestiary of aliens. Tall aliens and small aliens. Aliens with a multitude of limbs and aliens with none. Aliens with myriad eyes and aliens flowing through byways like wobbling piles of protoplasm.

“I don’t understand,” said Dr. Jakes.

“What’s wrong?” Takamura demanded, unable to tear his eyes away from these views which affected him almost as strongly as mystical visions of the divine might.

“I see what Jakes is getting at,” said Mikaela. “Where are the descendants of the dinosaurs?”

“Huh?” said Barkham, and Thesaurus’s reptilian eyes tore away from the wall screen to stare at Lindstrom.

“So far we don’t see anything much like Thesaurus out there,” said Mikaela. “We had assumed that the seeders would have created life after their own images.”

“Surely that doesn’t mean anything,” said Takamura. “There seems to be such a variety of alien life. There could be reasons for that we can’t possibly understand right now.”

“Perhaps if we simply watch,” said Dr. Jakes, “the images themselves will explain.”

“That’s apparently what we’re supposed to do,” said Takamura.

The images continued, showing a dizzying number of views of alien vistas until Takamura had to close his eyes for a time to relieve his brain. When he opened them again, however, the wall had faded once more to black.

Then a galaxy appeared in the center of the screen.

The Milky Way.

Then their home galaxy faded away and another galaxy, non-spiral, took its place.

Another faded in and out.

And another.

“It would appear that we’re being shown the range of this civilization’s spread. Which would explain the number of aliens down on this planet ... This must be the central hub,” said Dr. Jakes.

“Yes,” said Takamura. “The capital ...”

“And they’ve brought us here. They’ve brought the
Dragonstar
back,” said Mikaela Lindstrom. “And they’re taking the time to actually show us where we are and who they are ...”

“I don’t know,” said Barkham. “It doesn’t follow their modus operandi. I mean, they knock us out—”

“But they didn’t kill us,” said Takamura. “They dealt with us as possibly dangerous creatures. Without doing harm to us, they neutralized any possibility of a threat to them.”

The wall went dark again.

Takamura wondered what was next. They all stared at the wall, waiting in suspense for the next step of the communication process.

Then the wall faded, and an image of a creature’s head loomed. Its eyes were liquid sparkles of intelligence. It seemed to be staring straight into Takamura’s soul.

It opened its mouth to speak, and Takamura shivered with the importance of this moment ... the first verbal communication between the Creators and representatives of their children.

“Greetings,” said a hissy alien voice, pronunciation totally off. “And fuck you all!”