Jury Duty (First Contact)

by Peter Cawdron

  Waves roll into the shore, kicking up hints of bioluminescence, but the creature is gone. A blue trail follows its wake as it swims beneath the water, racing toward Jazz.

  “You can’t kill that thing,” Adrianna says, getting to her feet. “It’s too big.”

  “The hell I can’t.”

  Jazz is illuminated by the eerie red light coming off the flare. Clouds of smoke surround her, hiding her boots from view. She holds a wide stance, scanning the water as she peers through the night-vision scope on her M4.

  “She’ll be okay,” Nick says, hoping rather than knowing that.

  “No, she won’t,” Adrianna replies. “The water—her shots won’t go more than a few feet. They’ll splinter and deflect when they hit the water. Within five feet, they’ll be nothing more than pebbles sinking to the bottom. She’s not going to hit a goddamn thing.”

  If Jazz knows this, she doesn’t care. She fires a burst of three rounds into the lake, barely fifteen feet from where she’s standing. Water is kicked up by each thundering impact. The spray glows with neon-blue bioluminescence. The report from each shot is deafening. Chunks of ice fall from the ceiling.

  “No, no, no,” Adrianna mumbles, sheltering beside Nick. “She’s going to bring the cave down on us.”

  Silence descends on the cavern. In the quiet, Nick dares to believe it’s over. Whatever that creature was, it must sense the raw power standing on shore. Perhaps the shockwave from the bullets scared it away. As the seconds pass, he breathes a little easier.

  Jazz pushes her back against the ice, crouching as she surveys the smooth, dark surface of the lake. Before she can react, a tentacle erupts from the water, lashing out at her M4. The rifle is ripped from her hands.

  “It’s a squid,” Adrianna whispers.

  “A what?” Nick replies.

  “Giant squid!”

  Jazz has her Glock out. She fires several shots, but her bullets are no match for an animal the size of a school bus. As if it senses how vulnerable she is, the creature rises from the deep. Thick arms reach through the air, surrounding her. Suckers squirm, threatening to attack. Jazz ignores them, keeping her gun trained on the body of the animal as it floats just below the surface. A large, bulbous eye examines her. Tentacles wave around her. They’re longer and thinner than the arms, with thick pads at each end. In the flickering light of the flare, they look utterly alien—only they’re not. Water drips from the arms as they sway.

  Jazz growls, “Come on, you asshole!”

  Behind her, the creature’s arms grab at the boulder, rocking it off the ground, cutting off any means of escape. To Nick’s horror, Jazz steps forward. Her boots splash in the water.

  She holsters her sidearm, yelling, “What the hell are you waiting for?”

  Bubbles rise to the surface. The creature positions itself in front of her. It might have missed Adrianna and Nick. It’s not going to miss Jazz.

  The lake explodes as the animal launches itself out of the depths. Water erupts from around the squid, soaking the shoreline. The aquatic creature rises from the lake. It opens its circular mouth, rushing in toward the boulder. A massive, sharp beak snaps at the air.

  Jazz drops into the water below the creature. She has a clacker in her hand. It’s a small device that looks like an oversized switch. With her hand above her head, she plunges beneath the waves.

  Both Adrianna and Nick have their hands over their ears.

  From beneath the water, Jazz squeezes the clacker, firing the claymores. Three synchronized explosions rip outward through the cavern. Fire erupts from the ice. Each antipersonnel mine releases seven hundred steel ball bearings at over a thousand feet per second. Blisteringly hot metal screams through the cavern, perforating the arms and tentacles of the squid. Chunks of flesh are torn from the creature.

  Slabs of ice fall from the ceiling, crashing into the water, sending waves racing across the lake. Within seconds, it’s over. The acrid smell of explosives chokes the air. Smoke hangs low over the lake. The flare dies. An eerie blue gloom descends. Severed tentacles float on the surface of the lake. Black ink seeps across the water.

  Adrianna runs toward the shattered boulder. Jazz grabs at the rocks along the shoreline. Nick reaches in, helping her out of the icy cold water. His ears are still ringing, making it difficult to hear.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Fine.”

  Jazz shivers as she crouches by the edge of the lake. She clings her arms around her, trying to warm herself.

  Adrianna is in a daze. She lifts a shredded length of squid up, holding it out before them. Suckers pulse on the arm, reluctant to die.

  “Calamari, anyone?”

  “Not funny,” Nick says.

  “Really not funny,” Jazz says, dripping wet. “What the hell was that?”

  “Mesonychoteuthis,” Adrianna says. “The Antarctic Colossal Squid. We picked up DNA samples in the water, but I didn’t think it would be that big. Or that aggressive. A big old boy like that only thinks about two things—sex and food.”

  Jazz laughs. “I guess I should be grateful it was hungry and not horny.”

  “This air pocket probably served as a hunting ground for it.”

  “Is it dead?” Nick asks, looking out at the still water on the lake.

  “Probably not.”

  “Damn,” Jazz says.

  “It’ll be back,” Adrianna says, dropping the severed limb on the ground. “We’ve got to get you out of here.”

  “Wait,” Nick says, seeing movement on the lake.

  From out of the haze, a watery figure approaches. At first, only his head is visible above the surface of the lake, then his shoulders, arms, and torso. The alien figure rises out of the water as he approaches the shore. Blue bioluminescence sparkles around him, lighting up his arms and legs. Tiny fish swim within his torso.

  “What the hell?” Adrianna says as the man comes to a halt a few feet from the rocks.

  “It’s okay,” Nick says. “This is the crystal man.”

  Crystal Man

  “So A—Anni? And Elizabeth?” Jazz says, kneeling on the rocks, trembling in the cold.

  “Yes,” Nick replies. “They saw him in the research center.”

  “And you?” Adrianna asks. Her words are followed by a fine vapor in the frigid air.

  Nick is relieved rather than scared. “Me? I thought I was going mad.”

  Adrianna steps over the rocks, peering carefully at the watery shape. She examines his legs, his arms and hands, pointing in astonishment. A blue tinge in the water causes the apparition to glow.

  “Not possible.”

  “B—B,” Jazz says, shivering uncontrollably. “Beau—Bee. B—Beautiful.”

  “It’s not beautiful,” Adrianna says. “It’s not even alive. This isn’t real. At best, it’s a projection—a distraction.” She turns her attention to Jazz. “We cannot stay here. That water is a shade under three degrees. We have got to get you out of here.”

  Adrianna crouches in front of Jazz, turning her back on the crystal man. She straightens her up, pulling at her jacket, wanting to get it off her. “We need to get you back inside the base and get you into dry clothing.”

  “B—But.” Jazz points at the shimmering blue figure.

  “No buts.” Adrianna peals the soaking wet jacket from Jazz, tugging it free of her arms. “He’s not going anywhere, right? He can wait. You can’t. You’ll die from hypothermia if we don’t do something.”

  Nick’s unsure if it’s the soft light, but Jazz looks pale. Her skin is turning blue.

  “Wait,” he says. “Look.”

  The ghostly figure crouches within a foot of the shore, pointing at Jazz. The alien is matching her gesture, holding his finger a few inches from hers.

  “Whoa,” Adrianna says, shifting on the rough gravel.

  Jazz leans forward, still holding her gloved finger out.

  Adrianna says, “I’m not sure you want to do that.”

  Nick is shaking
, but not because of the cold. Jazz touches the luminescent watery finger. A blue tinge runs down her arm. Within seconds, it envelops her entire body. Then it retreats as quickly as it came.

  “What the?” Adrianna says.

  “I’m dry,” Jazz says in surprise. She withdraws her finger as the watery man stands upright again. “How is that possible? I—I’m still damn cold, but my skin, my clothing—they’re dry.”

  “I don’t under—” Adrianna turns to Nick. “What exactly did you see inside the research center?”

  “Ah, it followed me. It was interested in what I was doing with the pumps. It didn’t look like this, though. It wasn’t blue. It was just water. Back there, it looked like a see-through store-front mannequin brought to life.”

  “And?”

  “And it pointed at the room with the jurors. When we were on L3, it pointed at the room down on L4.”

  Adrianna steps in front of the glowing figure, matching its posture and asking, “Do you understand me? My words?”

  “I don’t get it,” Jazz says, getting to her feet when there’s no reply. “If that thing is from outer space, why does it look like us?”

  “It doesn’t,” Adrianna says. “This is mimicry. It’s adopting a shape we’ll recognize—something to lower our stress levels. You know, like a zookeeper dressing up as a panda or a wildlife camera operator wearing a penguin suit.”

  “So it thinks we’re dumb?” Jazz asks.

  “Less intelligent,” Adrianna says. “Easily fooled. It thinks it’s dealing with animals. From its perspective, it is. It’s treating us the way we’d treat a chimp. It knows there’s at least some intelligence. It’s trying to assess how much. I think it’s worried about freaking us out.”

  She holds out her arm, moving her hand in a vast circular motion involving her forearm, elbow, and shoulder. It’s as though she’s cleaning a window. Although the watery man has none of these joints, being nothing more than a shell, he copies her motion with precision.

  Nick asks, “What the hell are we dealing with, doc?”

  “A communication gap. It’s copying us, trying to figure us out. See the way it moves its mouth as though it’s trying to speak? It probably doesn’t realize we rely on sound waves. It thinks we read lips.”

  “So it’s trying to say something?” Nick asks.

  “It knew I was cold,” Jazz says.

  “It must have sensed your body temperature dropping outside the range it normally observes.”

  “This is amazing,” Nick says, leaning over the water and taking a good look from the side. A tiny jellyfish darts up within the column of water forming a human shape. Neon blue tentacles pulse, driving it on. Thin strands glow, dangling below the gelatinous blob. The jellyfish is oblivious to where it is.

  “This isn’t them,” Adrianna says. “This isn’t what they look like. This is a projection—an attempt to appeal to our reason.”

  “Why?” Jazz asks. “What do they want?”

  “To get the hell out of here.”

  As if in response to what Adrianna said, the cavern lights up. In the distance, the thin edge of the spaceship glows in a rainbow of colors.

  “See that?” Adrianna says, pointing. “They don’t know how much light we can see, so they’re circling through the spectrum.”

  “So are we?” Nick asks.

  “Are we what?” Jazz asks.

  “Are we going to let them out of here?”

  “Whoa,” Jazz says, holding her hands out and signaling they should slow things down. “Is that really what’s happening here?”

  “Yes,” Adrianna says. “Look!”

  The watery humanoid holds up an index finger on one hand and both his index and middle finger on the other. Slowly, he brings them together. All three fingers point at the icy ceiling.

  “What the hell does that mean?” Nick asks.

  “One plus two equals three?” Jazz says. “Is he teaching us to count?”

  “It’s not counting,” Adrianna says. “Communicating, remember? It wants us to understand something about the number three.”

  “Is this like preschool for aliens?” Jazz asks. “Start with a little basic arithmetic?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Adrianna holds up her right hand, raising three fingers in a Girl Scout salute. The transparent man pulls his hands apart, holding them out wide. Slowly, he brings his hands together again. One finger raised on one hand. Two fingers on the other.

  “Okay, it’s not the number three,” Adrianna says. “It’s one thing made up of two parts.”

  “One and two,” Jazz says. “But not three.”

  Nick rubs his head. “Oh, man. I am so confused.”

  Jazz says, “They must think they’re dealing with a bunch of idiots.”

  “They are.”

  Adrianna says, “Whatever this is, it’s something they need from us. It’s something they’re confident we can figure out.”

  “They’ve seen us at work, right?” Jazz says. “They’ve seen our subsurface base. They know at least a little bit about what we’re capable of accomplishing. I mean, digging through a mile of ice and all.”

  “Yes,” Adrianna says. “They know we have machines and that we can harness electricity to drive our technology. They’ve got to be communicating within the bounds of what they think we’ll understand. I doubt he’s signaling something about dark matter or string theory. Whatever he means, it’s something we can understand with our current level of tech.”

  “So one plus two is something other than three,” Nick says.

  “One and two,” Adrianna replies. “Forget about three.”

  “What the hell is one and two if not three?”

  “I dunno.”

  As if he can sense their confusion, the blue facsimile of a man gestures with one hand. He keeps his two fingers still, while moving the other away until it reaches arm’s length. He repeats the motion a few times.

  “Three minus one is two,” Nick says, shaking his head. “That’s all I’m getting out of this.”

  “Wait,” Jazz says, watching him repeat his movement. “Perhaps his motion is intentional. One can move, but two can’t. Two stay still.”

  “One moves, two remain,” Nick says. “Is he talking about us? Does he want one of us to leave?”

  “No, that’s not it,” Adrianna says. “Why is one in motion while the other two aren’t?”

  “They’re different,” Jazz says. “Whatever one is, it’s not the same as two.”

  “Yes,” Adrianna says. “One is affected by an external force. The other two aren’t.”

  “So they’re neutral?” Nick asks.

  Adrianna copies the glowing man, but she moves one finger in several directions. She keeps two of her fingers still, while raising the other, lowering it, and even passing it in front of the others.

  The watery figure repeats his motion, ignoring the different directions. He only ever moves his finger one way.

  “It only ever goes left,” Nick says.

  “Right, from his perspective,” Adrianna says.

  “Oh,” Jazz says, getting frustrated. “I know what this is. These are giraffes. Each finger is a long-neck giraffe.”

  “Penguins,” Nick says. “We’re in Antarctica. They’ve got to be penguins.”

  Jazz counters with, “Caterpillars. Worms.”

  Adrianna does not look impressed.

  “Come on,” Jazz says in her defense, throwing her arms wide. “Three fingers could represent anything. Bananas. Birds. You name it.”

  “But they don’t,” Adrianna insists. “They represent something simple. Three simple things with a simple, clear distinction between them. Notice how he only ever moves his finger in one direction. That’s deliberate. There’s got to be a simple explanation, we’re just missing it.”

  “We’re talking to an alien,” Nick says, feeling exasperated. “There’s nothing simple about this. I mean, look at him. He’s playing a game of charades wi
thout any categories. His fingers could describe anything. Those could be three churros, but only one gets dipped in chocolate.”

  “And yet it’s not,” Adrianna insists. “He’s using a simple form of communication because he knows this is simple. Think about it. We’re complicating this. Not him. We have to simplify our thinking. What’s the simplest thing you can make something out of?”

  Off the top of his head, Nick says, “LEGO.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s a kid’s toy. They’re just a bunch of blocks but you can make anything out of them.”

  “Oh,” Adrianna says. “Now we’re getting somewhere. And what’s the simplest thing in the universe? What’s our equivalent of LEGOs?”

  Jazz shrugs. She says a tentative, “Atoms?”

  Adrianna has a glazed look in her eyes. She stares past them, lost in thought.

  “That’s it!” Adrianna copies the motion of the crystal man, holding three fingers up and moving one away from the others. “It’s an atom. It’s made up of one proton and two neutrons. The proton can be influenced by an electromagnetic field, but not the neutrons. In his example, they stay where they are.”

  “What?” Jazz says.

  “Wait,” Adrianna says. “What’s the atomic number for oxygen?”

  “Oxygen?” Nick asks, surprised by the notion.

  “You’re asking us?” Jazz says, pointing at the two of them.

  “Is it eight or ten?” Adrianna asks.

  “Seriously,” Jazz says. “You think either of us know that?”

  “Eight,” Nick says. He smiles at Jazz, adding, “High school chemistry. It was the one class I didn’t sleep through.”

  Adrianna reaches down and cups some water in her hands. Slowly, she lets it drip in front of the shimmering figure.

  “Okay, let’s see if this works.”

  Adrianna holds up a single finger on each hand, keeping her hands separate. Then she lowers her hands and brings them together, holding four fingers up on each hand. Now, though, instead of having her hands next to each other, she puts her wrists on top of each other, interlacing her fingers.

  “I need this thing to understand the number eight.”

  “Eight protons,” Nick says. “Oxygen.”