Apes and Angels Page 26

  “You are a stranger. Yet you know my name.”

  Putting on a smile, Brad said, “I truly am Brad. This is my true form.”

  “True form?”

  “Until today, I wore a different form. I wanted to look as much like you as I could. Now we know each other well enough so that I can show myself to you as I really am.”

  Mnnx said slowly, suspiciously, “Your hands look like Brrd’s hands, but their color is different.”

  “This is the real color of my skin,” Brad explained.

  One of the Gammans said, “You look strange. Very short.”

  Before Brad could reply, another villager observed, “Your eyes are very small.”

  “There’s a hole in your face.”

  Brad said, “That’s where I make the sounds you hear. That’s how I speak.”

  “And there is fur on the top of your head.”

  Spreading his arms, Brad replied, “I told you that my village is far from here…”

  “In the sky, you said.”

  “My body is different from yours, in some ways.”

  “Your old body was better.”

  “My people made that body to look like your own as much as possible. But now I am showing you my true body.”

  They stood inspecting him, none of them daring to come closer than several meters.

  “It is really me. Brad. Your friend.”

  None of them moved.

  “I have come to help you get through the coming winter. And to help you build a new village for the new Folk.”

  Mnnx blinked his big, bulbous eyes, a nictitating membrane sliding over them and then retreating back again.

  “You are really Brrd?”

  “I am.” Nerving himself, Brad held out his hand. Mnnx hesitated, staring at it, then at last took it in his own tentacled grip. Brad suppressed the shudder of revulsion at the feel of the alien’s hand. He saw that Mnnx seemed stiff, uneasy, too.

  Once they released each other, Brad told them, “Soon there will be others like me to help you live through the winter and welcome the new Folk when they rise out of the ground.”

  Mnnx turned to one of the Gammans. “Run to the fields. Tell Lnng and the others that Brrd has returned to us.”

  Brad let out a gust of pent-up breath. He’s accepted me! he thought. Maybe not one hundred percent, but it’s a beginning.

  SUSPICIONS

  Captain Desai sat in the bridge’s imposing command chair and watched the curving bulk of planet Gamma slide across the main display screen. In the star-speckled sky, Beta was a bloodred crescent, safely distant and moving farther away.

  “Orbit established, sir,” said his navigator, a slightly plump Jamaican woman, her skin nearly as dark as Desai’s own.

  The parameters of their orbit sprang up on the screen, overlaying the view of Gamma.

  “Circularize orbit,” Desai commanded.

  “Circularizing.”

  Desai glanced around the bridge. Six men and women were seated at their consoles, tapping out commands or staring at data on their screens. Busywork, he knew. The ship was actually controlled by the master computer; the humans on the bridge were redundant, a sop to the deep-seated human fear of being replaced by machine intelligence.

  Desai shook his head tolerantly. We’re here to make contact with alien intelligences, yet we’re afraid of our own machines.

  With an inner smile he remembered that the scientific staff had given the master computer a human avatar for them to interact with, and the crew had even given it a human name, of sorts: Emcee.

  The minibursts of thrust that adjusted their orbit around Gamma were barely noticeable. After several minutes the navigator announced, “Orbit circularized, sir.”

  Desai saw the parameter numbers on the central screen.

  “Good,” he said as he got up from the chair. “Take the conn. I’m going to see Professor Kosoff.”

  Kosoff’s office was only a few meters down the passageway from the bridge, but it was like stepping into a different world. The science staff wore no uniforms, and they seemed to have no real discipline, just a gaggle of youngish men and women strolling leisurely along the passageway, chatting with one another casually. Desai wondered how Kosoff got any real work out of them.

  Kosoff’s office door opened as soon as Desai presented himself before the security camera. The professor was at his desk, as usual, conversing with the master computer’s avatar. He looked up and waved Desai to one of the chairs in front of his desk.

  Emcee’s image in the holo display blinked out as Desai dropped into one of the handsomely comfortable chairs.

  “We’re in orbit around Gamma,” the captain reported.

  With an unsmiling nod, Kosoff said merely, “Good.”

  “I presume you’ll want to send a team to the ground as soon as possible.”

  Kosoff heaved a weary sigh. “Yes. Once I’ve checked out conditions on the ground with MacDaniels.”

  * * *

  It was late afternoon. Mithra’s glaring red orb was sliding toward the distant mountain ridge as Brad sat with Mnnx in the top floor of the longhouse.

  “Why did you wear your disguise?” Mnnx asked. He was seated at the end of a long table with Brad at his right. It reminded Brad of Kosoff’s conference table up in the starship, but he and Mnnx were the only two people in the big, open room.

  “My people thought it would be easier for you to accept me if I looked as much like you as possible,” Brad answered.

  For several heartbeats Mnnx remained silent. Then, “Are you one of the Sky Masters, Brrd?”

  Surprised, Brad replied, “No. My people come from far away—”

  “They live in the sky?”

  Careful, Brad warned himself. He’s frightened of these Sky Masters, whatever they are.

  Slowly, Brad explained, “My people live on a world that is very much like yours. They can travel from their own world to yours, through the sky. But the sky is not their true home.”

  Mnnx sat in silence, trying to digest what Brad was telling him. The ropy tentacles of his hands kept uncoiling and then clenching again. His equivalent of tapping his fingernails, Brad thought.

  “The Sky Masters are very powerful,” Mnnx said at last. “We have disobeyed them. We should have let the monsters kill us, so that the new Folk will have this village for themselves when they rise out of the ground.”

  “You’re afraid the Sky Masters will return and punish you?”

  “Yes. They are very powerful, and they will be angry at our disobedience.”

  “Surely they didn’t want you to die,” Brad said.

  “Surely they did,” Mnnx snapped.

  “But you still live. You chose life over death. That is good.” Before Mnnx could object, Brad went on, “My people will help you. Together we will build a new village for the new Folk. You will all live, and you won’t have to fear the monsters from Beta anymore. Or the Sky Masters, either.”

  Mnnx said, “Once this land was covered with villages. Villages far bigger than what we have now. The Sky Masters destroyed them all. They send the monsters from Beta to kill us so that the new Folk can have villages to live in when they come out of the ground.”

  “That’s no way to live,” Brad said.

  “It is our way, the way that the Sky Masters have ordained for us to be. I fear that they will grow angry and return to destroy us all, destroy everything, as they did so long ago.”

  With a certainty that he did not actually feel, Brad said, “No, they will not return. And if they do, my people will protect you.”

  Mnnx stared at Brad. “The Sky Masters are very powerful.”

  “So are we,” Brad said, hoping that Mnnx’s story was really mythology and not an actual threat.

  REUNION

  Brad trudged back to his shuttlecraft, through the lengthening shadows of evening, mulling over the tale of fear and death that was troubling Mnnx.

  They’ve disobeyed their so-called Sky Mast
ers, he thought. When presented with a way to survive the beasts from Beta, they allowed me to save them. When face-to-face with certain death, they chose life.

  Okay. But now Mnnx is afraid that he’s broken some moral commandment. Afraid that their supernatural overlords are going to return and punish them.

  How can I convince them that they’re terrified of phantoms? And what happens if they’re not phantoms? Mythology is based on reality, at heart. How did this legend of the Sky Masters get started?

  Then one overwhelming fact rose up in Brad’s mind. How did those monsters from Beta develop the technology to fly here during the planets’ closest approach? Those egg-shaped spacecraft aren’t mythology. They’re high technology.

  What happened to these people? What’s going to happen to them—and to us?

  * * *

  It was fully night by the time Brad reached the crippled shuttlecraft. In starlit darkness he scrambled up the tree trunk that served as his ladder and ducked through the air lock’s outer hatch.

  Turning to look out at the quietly peaceful night, he saw a point of light rising in the star-flecked sky. The starship, he realized. It’s in orbit, only a few hundred kilometers away. Felicia’s there.

  As he made his way through the inner air lock chamber and along the tilted passageway that led to his quarters, Brad also realized that Kosoff and Littlejohn and all the others were aboard the starship, too. The whole chain of command, ready to look over his shoulder, ready to second-guess his decisions, ready to take control of his life.

  He went past his narrow sleeping chamber and straight to the cockpit. Sliding into the only chair there, he called, “Emcee, connect me with Felicia, please. Private and personal.”

  Felicia’s image took form in the holographic display. She was in their quarters, on the couch in their sitting room. Waiting for me, Brad thought.

  “Hi,” he said, feeling awkward and happy at the same time.

  “Hello, Brad.”

  “You’re here.”

  “Yes, we established orbit a few hours ago.”

  “I saw the ship overhead.”

  Felicia smiled. “Captain Desai told me he’ll send a shuttle down to pick you up tomorrow morning.”

  “What time is it aboard the ship now?”

  “Nineteen hundred hours, almost. We’ve adjusted ship’s time to agree with your time on the ground. It’s costing us four hours of sleep tonight.”

  “Sorry about that,” he said, feeling slightly inane.

  “It’s all right,” Felicia replied, the corners of her lips curving upward slightly. “Tomorrow we’ll have a regular night, full time. The two of us.”

  Brad could feel his own face breaking into a wide, cheery grin. “We sure will.”

  * * *

  Emcee woke Brad just as sunrise gleamed over the mountain ridgeline.

  “Captain Desai is coming in person to bring you back to Odysseus,” the master computer announced. “Arrival in two hours.”

  Snapping awake, Brad pushed himself to a sitting position on the bunk. Its sheet had somehow twisted itself around his body. As he disentangled himself, he recalled that he had dreamed while he slept, but it wasn’t the old nightmare that had plagued him. He couldn’t remember what his dream had been; the harder he tried to recall it, the more it melted out of his memory.

  Exactly two hours later Brad stood at the foot of his improvised ladder and watched a shuttlecraft glide over the distant mountains, white contrails trailing off its wingtips. It flew down the length of the meadow, banked gracefully at its far end, then lowered its landing gear and came in for a flawlessly smooth landing.

  And two hours after that, approximately, Brad stood before Kosoff’s desk. Littlejohn sat in front of the desk, beaming up at Brad like a proud father. Kosoff’s face, though, looked grimly unhappy.

  “You look slimmer,” Kosoff said.

  “And tanner,” added Littlejohn, smiling.

  “You’d better get Yamagata to—”

  Brad interrupted, “I had a preliminary medical scan during the flight up here. Dr. Yamagata said I’m in good health.”

  Kosoff h’mphed. “You should get a complete physical exam.”

  “Yessir.”

  “I suppose you know you’ve made a shambles out of the mission protocol,” Kosoff rumbled.

  “Could we talk about that later, please?” Brad said. “I’d like to see my wife.”

  Littlejohn’s eyes flicked to the office’s side door. “She’s in the next room, waiting—”

  “Excuse me,” Brad said as he bolted toward the door. “I’ll make a full report to you tomorrow, first thing.”

  Kosoff watched, open-mouthed, as Brad opened the door and rushed into Felicia’s waiting arms.

  Littlejohn chuckled lightly and turned back to Kosoff. “The course of true love,” he said.

  Kosoff tried to scowl, but couldn’t quite manage to pull it off. “I’ll schedule a meeting of department heads for tomorrow morning,” he grumbled.

  A broad grin splitting his dark face, Littlejohn suggested, “Better make it tomorrow afternoon. Give the lad a chance to recuperate before making his report.”

  * * *

  Brad awoke slowly, like a swimmer rising up to the surface of a deep pool. He saw that the bedroom was still dark, although the digital clock readout on the holo viewer said 08:54.

  Turning slightly, he made out Felicia’s tousled head on the pillow next to his. She was sleeping soundly.

  Brad tried to figure out how he could get out of bed without waking her. I told Kosoff I’d make my report to him this morning, he remembered. But instead of getting out of bed, he lightly ran his hand along Felicia’s back and across her bare rump.

  She popped one eye open.

  “Time to get up,” Brad said softly.

  “Wrong,” she contradicted. “I gave Emcee orders to leave us alone until ten hundred.”

  “But Kosoff—”

  “He can wait.” And she wrapped an arm around Brad’s neck and pulled him to her.

  Brad sighed contentedly. “I guess he’ll have to.”

  * * *

  When he finally got out of bed, Brad asked Emcee for any messages that had come through while he’d slept.

  “There is only one,” the computer’s humanized image replied. “From Professor Kosoff. The meeting of department heads to hear your personal report is scheduled for fourteen hundred hours, main conference room.”

  Brad grinned at Emcee and replied, “Please tell Professor Kosoff that I’ll be there. And thank him for scheduling the meeting at a reasonable hour.”

  After a long, luxurious hot shower and a breakfast of waffles slathered with oleomargarine and syrup, Brad tossed his bathrobe onto the thoroughly rumpled bed and pulled out of the closet a crisply pressed set of coveralls.

  “First new set of clothes I’ve put on in weeks,” he said.

  “You’re thinner,” Felicia said.

  “Haven’t had any real food down there: just pills and prepackaged meals.”

  She nodded. With a firm sense of purpose, she said, “I’ll take care of that.”

  Brad hesitated, then told her, “I’m going back there as soon as I can.”

  “I know. I’m going with you.”

  “You…?”

  “I’ll be part of the biology team. It’s all arranged.”

  With a grin, Brad replied, “Fine. Wonderful.”

  REPORT

  Brad sat at the foot of the long conference table, with Felicia beside him. He’d had to drag up a chair from the ones lining the conference room’s far wall to make room for her at the table. No one objected.

  The table was filled by all the department heads, including Ursula Steiner, Felicia’s boss. Even Captain Desai had come for this meeting, sitting up at the left of the empty chair at the table’s head. They were all chatting together, a dozen buzzing conversations up and down the table, as they waited for Kosoff.

  Precisely at 1400 hours th
e door to Kosoff’s office opened and the professor walked briskly to his seat.

  The smile on his bearded face looked a little forced, Brad thought, but as Kosoff sat down he opened the meeting with:

  “I know you’ve all been going over MacDaniels’s day-by-day reports. I thought it would be useful to hear what he has to say about his mission to the aliens. From the horse’s mouth, so to speak.”

  Someone stage-whispered, “A naysayer, no doubt.”

  A few chuckles up and down the table.

  Brad rose slowly to his feet. “The major impression that I got about the Gammans is that they are nonviolent; peaceable to the point of being suicidal.”

  “They allow themselves to be killed without offering any resistance,” said Steiner.

  “That’s because they didn’t see any way to save themselves,” Brad pointed out. “When I showed the villagers that the cats from Beta could be killed, they chose to save themselves.”

  “They chose,” Kosoff corrected, “to let you save them.”

  “Yes,” said Brad. “And now they’re worried that they’ve done the wrong thing and they’re going to be punished for their disobedience.”

  “What about the other villages?” asked Littlejohn. “Have any of them survived?”

  Olav Pedersen, head of the planetology group, answered, “Apparently not. They all seem to have been wiped out by the cats.”

  “And the cats have themselves died off?”

  Steiner said, “Yes. It’s as if they’ve been genetically programmed to die after a few days from breaking out of their eggs.”

  “Wait a minute,” Brad said. “Each village has a Rememberer, a person who is supposed to survive the death time and educate the new generation of Gammans, once they come out of the ground.”

  “But that won’t happen until their long winter is over,” said Elizabeth Chang.

  “You mean that one person in each village hibernates through the winter?”

  “Apparently so,” Brad admitted. “The Rememberer in the village I contacted was killed by the cats.”

  The table went silent.

  Then Pedersen, pale and gloomy, said, “Do we have to search those other villages for survivors?”