Bridgers 3_The Voice of Reason

by Stan C. Smith

  “How did you and the mongrels get here?” Desmond asked.

  The creature paused as if thinking. “I have a suspicion that you—”

  Confused cries suddenly filled the air. The twenty refugees of group two had arrived, tumbling over each other with even less grace than the first group.

  Infinity went to the new arrivals to assist them, but Desmond turned to the three semitransparent figures within the purple bubble—the mongrels—to see how they would respond. The mongrels had moved together to a spot that was closer to the bridge-in site. In fact, the bubble’s wall in that spot was visibly expanding, bulging outward, presumably allowing the mongrels to observe more easily.

  Infinity continued helping the new arrivals get over their nausea and onto their feet.

  “Hundreds of you will be coming, you say.”

  Startled, Desmond realized the six-armed creature was now standing right beside him, watching the new refugees. The creature’s smell was now overpowering. “Yes. Seven hundred twenty of us.”

  “And this is how your herd will arrive?”

  Desmond turned to look at the creature. “Yes. We call it bridging.”

  “Bridging,” the creature said, pronouncing the word slowly. “My goodness. My goodness gracious.”

  In spite of its strange voice, appearance, and smell, Desmond had to remind himself that he was having a conversation with a creature that wasn’t even close to being human. Abruptly, something clicked in his mind. “Are you familiar with bridging? Is that how you got here?”

  The creature was still staring at the new arrivals, most of whom were now staring back at it or staring at the glowing purple blob. “It is not. But as you surely must know, the mongrels came hither in this way. And they brung my ancestors with them.”

  How was this possible? The revelation was staggering, although Desmond doubted it would help the colony survive. He turned to see whether Infinity had heard the creature’s words, but she was still busy moving the new refugees away from the bridge-in site.

  “The mongrels were curious before,” the creature said. “But now your growing herd has seized their utmost attention and consternation.”

  Desmond waited for the creature to say more, but it just stared at the frightened refugees. “Is that a good thing?” he asked. “That we’ve captured their attention, I mean.”

  The creature hesitated and looked at Desmond. It thrust out the centipede weapon into the purple light cast by the mongrel’s bubble. Desmond involuntarily stepped back. The object, with its twitching, needle-like claws and fangs, was possibly the most frightening thing he’d ever seen.

  “You inquired as to its purpose. Is it a weapon, you asked. I reckon it is and it ain’t. But even when it ain’t, it is. The humans of my bailiwick call it a venomcrook. It’s a living critter, thus to be tamed and controlled. Under my will, the venomcrook metes out pain you could scarcely comprehend. Or, if circumstances require, it can administer rapture—a pleasure so mighty that you’ll forever align your allegiances with mine in pursuit of more rapture.” The creature paused as if letting this sink in. “The mongrels made my venomcrook, and its power is akin to theirs. They may enrapture you, or they may bring you to naught. Either way is good, but not for you—only for the mongrels.”

  Desmond turned to gaze at the three nearly-invisible figures behind the membrane. Whatever the mongrels were, they’d be nearly impossible to spot within the luminescent fluid if they weren’t constantly shifting their positions. He took a step closer to the bubble’s membrane. In response, the figures shifted again, turning and moving slightly toward him.

  Although Desmond couldn’t discern the details of the mongrels’ shapes or structures, he couldn’t help but feel that they were staring back at him.

  8

  Weapons

  September 2 - 1:22 AM

  Staring at Desmond, Infinity’s mind reeled from the enormity of what he’d just told her. She should have seen it coming. She should have known immediately that these things hadn’t originated from Earth. But then, if they had bridged here, they would have originated from Earth—just not this version of Earth. But she had never seen anything remotely like these creatures in any of the versions of Earth she had visited. Goddammit. She shook her head and tried to focus.

  “They bridged here?” she asked.

  Desmond nodded. “Probably some time in the last 150 years.”

  “One hundred two years heretofore, I am told,” the stinking, six-armed creature said. “The year of 1927.”

  Infinity stared at the creature. It looked like something that should be climbing trees in the jungle and eating fruits, not sitting around talking with words like heretofore. She had too many questions and no idea what to ask first. She turned to scrutinize the thirty-eight colonists, who were huddled together, strangely illuminated by the violet glow of the looming bubble. They had become surprisingly quiet, although many were reflexively touching their now-bald scalps, as most first-time bridgers felt inclined to do. They were solemn, likely beginning to realize that their well-laid plans for an easy transition into an existing civilization were falling apart.

  She decided to focus on what she knew best. She turned back to the creature. “You said humans would come here in the morning, and they’d be angry we’re in their territory. We’re happy to leave their territory, but we have to stay here until all the members of our group have arrived. Will we be safe, or do we need to prepare to defend ourselves?”

  The creature spread its two lower hands like it was showing they were empty. “You wish to protect your herd from harm. Yes, of course. There will be a dispute. Perhaps a squabble. Perhaps even a fracas. One, or the other, or the other. This will be good, but not for you. Only for the mongrels, for they are ardent watchers of such strife.”

  Infinity shook her head. “What the hell does that mean? Will we need to defend ourselves or not?”

  The creature spread its lower hands again. “It is likely.”

  “I assume our attackers will be well-armed?”

  The creature tilted its head to the side. “I do not understand well-armed.”

  “Well-armed, as in guns. Firearms. Rifles or pistols. Weapons.”

  It hesitated a moment. “You have come to this land ignorant of its history. No such contrivances are to be found here.”

  Infinity exchanged a glance with Desmond. He turned to the creature and said, “This world was identical to ours until 150 years ago. There were certainly firearms here then.”

  “Yes, I have heard tales of such weapons. Generations before my time. They ain’t to be found here now. Mongrels don’t allow such contrivances. They prefer to watch indigenous critters in their primitive state.”

  Infinity shook her head again, still struggling to understand the creature’s responses. But one thing was clear—a group of combative humans was likely to appear in the morning, and they wouldn’t be armed with guns. This scenario was something she could understand and prepare for. She turned to Desmond. “We’ll need to make some weapons, maybe some stabbing tools and spears.” She nodded toward the creature. “If this thing is telling the truth, we need to be prepared.”

  “I prefer not to be called a thing,” the creature said.

  Infinity stared at it. “So what’s your name?”

  It hesitated. “Some humans call me Abel. It’s the name I prefer. Others call me a musk monkey. That one may be derogatory, but I don’t much give a care.”

  In spite of the obviously dire circumstances, Infinity almost smiled. Musk monkey? It was a fitting name. “We’ll call you Abel, then,” she said.

  “I’m Desmond,” Desmond said. “And this is Infinity.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Desmond and Infinity, but the pleasure, I fear, is only for me.”

  Infinity was glad the musk monkey didn’t try to shake hands. “I have a question,” she said. “Thirty-eight hours ago, we sent a group of animals here. It’s what we call a bio-probe. To make sure the world is sur
vivable. One of the animals came back in a different form, looking like a smaller version of you. Can you explain that?”

  The musk monkey stared at her, its eyes blinking out of sync. Finally, it said, “Oh my goodness. My goodness gracious.”

  “What?” Infinity and Desmond both said.

  “Did you touch it? Did you touch the smaller musk monkey?”

  “No,” Infinity said.

  “Did others touch it? Other humans?”

  Infinity glanced at Desmond, who was frowning. “Yes,” she said, “but with gloves on. So, no, not directly. It was put into a containment chamber.”

  “My goodness gracious,” the creature repeated.

  “What’s wrong?” Desmond asked. “Why do you want to know if we touched it?”

  The creature finally got up off the ground and stood fully erect, about five feet tall. “Perhaps it don’t matter. The runt musk monkey must have been mongrel shenanigans. But perhaps they intended no ill will. Perhaps.”

  Infinity and Desmond exchanged another glance. Even if the smaller creature was a danger to people back home, they wouldn’t be able to warn Armando until they bridged back. “But how was it even possible?” Infinity asked. “The bridging device can only bring back the animal it sent out, or the body tissue of that animal.”

  The musk monkey let out a series of hiccuping sounds that sounded very much like forced laughter. “Yes, yes. Mongrel shenanigans. Mongrels take pleasure in fiddling around with the essence of living flora and fauna. They’re capable of such things. This is good, but only for them. You will take no pleasure in it.”

  Infinity sighed. “Is there anything about this situation that’s good for us, not just for someone else?”

  The musk monkey hiccupped again. “But of course. You’re still you. And you’re still alive. Come the morning’s light and the herd, however, a different story may be told.”

  “How many are in the herd?” Infinity asked.

  “Fifty will come to feed. Thereabouts.”

  “You said they would not have firearms. What kinds of weapons will they have with them?”

  “The mongrels don’t fancy human-made contrivances. They’ll have no weapons.”

  No weapons? Infinity did some quick math in her head. By sunrise there would be almost 160 refugees here. Even though most of them were soft, unskilled lawyers and civic leaders, the odds would be in their favor. She turned to Desmond. “I’ll show the refugees how to make weapons. If there’s going to be trouble, we’ll be ready for it.” She started to step away.

  “The mongrels don’t fancy human-made contrivances,” the musk monkey repeated. “You will not be allowed such weapons.”

  She stopped and turned. Then she stepped closer to the musk monkey. The creature raised the clawed object it still held in one of its upper hands as if preparing to defend itself. She pointed at the thing. “That looks like a weapon to me. Why are you allowed to use one?”

  The creature made a sound like it was clearing its throat. “The venomcrook is mine. I wield it in service of the mongrels. Assisting the mongrels is my purpose.”

  Infinity glared into the musk monkey’s eyes. “My purpose is to protect these humans. Are you saying you’re going to use that venomcrook to stop me from doing that?”

  The creature hesitated. So Infinity turned and headed for the refugees. As she walked away, she heard the musk monkey say, “I don’t reckon I’ll have to.”

  3:12 AM

  Only seventy-eight refugees had arrived, and Infinity had already grown weary from wrangling them and trying to explain the most relevant information to each new group. After the arrival of the most recent group, she had chosen a dozen seemingly-capable people to take charge of the task for the remaining thirty-two groups. If there was one thing these refugees excelled at, it was talking. Soon they would probably form a committee with several subcommittees to systemize the task. Which was fine with Infinity. Anything to keep them occupied.

  “How’s it coming, Arty?” she asked as she approached the three weapons assembly lines she’d organized. Arty Heath was the guy Infinity had put in charge of weapons production. Mainly because he had volunteered. He also appeared to be fit and very sure of himself, despite now being naked.

  “Getting close to fifteen of each,” he said. “Of course, once we use up the raw materials in the immediate area, we’ll have to start searching beyond the perimeter of available light.” He nodded toward the giant bubble emanating violet light.

  Four refugees were collecting straight saplings or limbs, four were busy breaking them down to about five feet long and stripping away the lateral branches, and four were sharpening the tips against several large rocks Desmond had found. Another team was working on weapons that were the same other than being only twelve inches long, to be wielded in close-quarters. A third group was making much longer, forked spears. These spears had two or three sharpened prongs at the end of an eight-foot shaft, and could be used to stop opponents from closing in for hand-to-hand combat. Of the seventy-eight refugees who had arrived so far, only seven of them had training in martial arts, wrestling, or any other type of fighting. If the people in the so-called herd had any skills at all, then close quarters fighting would need to be a last resort.

  Of course, the goal was to avoid fighting altogether. The refugees—especially Gavin—had been reminding Infinity of this every couple of minutes, if not more often. Infinity knew that they needed to convince the locals to let them peacefully occupy this territory just long enough to gather the entire colony. She figured if anyone could do this, it would be this colony of refugees. They could probably talk a bear out of shitting in the woods. Infinity wasn’t opposed to diplomatic solutions, but if a fight was inescapable, she wasn’t going to be caught unprepared.

  She turned and gazed at the massive glowing bubble. The entities within it—the mongrels—had moved away from the outer membrane and were apparently now somewhere deep within the fluid interior. She wondered whether their waning interest in the activities outside the bubble was good news or bad.

  Desmond had been talking to the musk monkey for at least an hour, but now he stepped away from the creature and approached Infinity. “Okay, here’s what I know, or at least what I think I know. The mongrels bridged here over a hundred years ago. They brought Abel’s ancestors here with them, as slaves, or pets, or something like that.” He paused like he was thinking about this.

  “I already know all that,” Infinity said. “Why are they here?”

  He frowned slightly. “Well, that’s not clear yet. Abel answers some questions freely, but others—not so much. They’ve obviously been here longer than the standard thirty-six hour excursion, so assuming their bridging technology is the same as ours, they must have bridged without the radioisotope marker. Which means they came here to stay. Which in turn means they are probably refugees, like our colony.”

  Infinity considered this. “You think they destroyed the version of Earth they came from in the same way we’ve destroyed ours?”

  “Abel was elusive when it came to that question. But why else would they bridge here one way?”

  Infinity looked up at the bubble. “I can think of possibilities. Maybe they ran out of room. Maybe they wanted a change of scenery.”

  “Well, if they’re refugees, then we have something in common. That could be used to our advantage.”

  She continued staring into the glowing bubble. “Maybe.”

  “I learned a few other things,” he said. “There are more mongrels. A lot more. According to Abel, they’re all over this planet. They live in these big bubbles, and each bubble oversees the territory around it. Abel calls the territories bailiwicks.”

  “Not very sociable, are they? Aside from socializing with those in their own bubble.”

  Desmond nodded. “And in case you’re wondering, Abel learned to speak English from the local humans.”

  “That explains a lot,” Infinity said.

  “Here’s one thin
g Abel said over and over: the mongrels like to observe the flora and fauna. He even hinted that this was the reason they came here in the first place. They like watching the wildlife, especially in its natural state. Human-made contrivances aren’t allowed.”

  She turned to him. “Yeah, I heard that part. What does ‘aren’t allowed’ mean?”

  Desmond shook his head. “No idea. It’s just what he kept saying. He also said the herd of humans comes here every morning to feed. He said it like he was talking about birds coming to a feeder. To be honest, this place is starting to creep me out.”

  Infinity looked back at the refugees. They were working busily on their tasks, obviously trying to hide their fear. She said, “What the hell have we gotten ourselves into?”

  5:36 AM

  The three piles of weapons had grown to over sixty weapons in each stack. And with sunrise about an hour away, it was time to prepare the refugees for the possibility of conflict. Infinity waited for the sapling-gatherers to return, and then she and Desmond called the colonists together. All 118 of them.

  Infinity picked up one of the longer, three-pronged spears. She then moved within twenty feet of the glowing bubble to take advantage of its light. “Can all of you see me and hear me?”

  Without answering, the colonists quieted themselves and shifted positions until they could see. They formed a semicircle facing the mongrels’ bubble, perhaps unwilling to have their backs to it or approach it more closely. Most of them were wide-eyed and tense, and Infinity felt a brief pang of pity for them. They were neither physically nor emotionally prepared for an attack. She shook the feeling away—shit happens. Now it was her and Desmond’s job to give them at least a fighting chance at survival.

  “If you’re lucky,” she said loudly enough for them to hear, “you won’t have to use these weapons. But we’ve been told we’re trespassing on the land of some locals who may not appreciate us being here.”