Firmament: In His Image

by J. Grace Pennington

  “If they’re men, what are they doing here, dozens of kiloparsecs away from Earth?” the Captain reasoned. “Anyway, it will be your job to tell me what they are when you get a chance to examine them.”

  “Sy de tou neikein aneis elthe,” said the same man who had spoken before. Then he turned towards the structure we had been heading for earlier, and began walking.

  His two companions stood there, as if waiting for something.

  “I think he wants us to follow him,” I whispered, looking up at the Doctor.

  “I agree.” Fumbling in his pocket, the Captain pulled out his communicator. “But I have to check in with Lieutenant Howitz and Ralston first.” He held the communicator up to his mouth and spoke into it. “Lieutenant, this is the Captain, is all well?”

  “Yes, Captain,” came August’s voice from the small black box. “We’re examining the…”

  Before he had time to get another word out, the second man jumped forward with a short cry and grabbed the communicator away from the Captain, at the same time babbling something with obvious alarm.

  “It looks like he’s afraid of it,” Crash observed, watching the man hold it delicately with two fingers.

  “Phere! Phere!” called the leader of the group impatiently, from several meters ahead. Not wanting to upset them further, we followed.

  “Where do you think they’re taking us?” I murmured to the Captain, as we crossed the hot sand towards the structure we had been heading for before this strange turn of events.

  “To their leader, presumably.”

  “Hopefully,” Whales added.

  “I wouldn’t say that.” The Captain shook his head cautiously. “We don’t know what kind of creatures these are, and what they may think of us. Apparently, they saw the communicator as some kind of threat.”

  Reaching carefully under my jacket, I switched off my communicator. If August called me, they would hear his voice, and would confiscate it. I saw Crash subtly do the same with his.

  We kept silent for the most part as we marched across the desert-like world. There was no sound except for the crunch of our boots on the sand and the softer thud of the strangers’ slippers. At first I couldn’t understand what was so surreal about the experience. Yes, there were these “people” that we didn’t understand, and the surroundings were different than what I was used to. But there seemed to be something more. After all, the beings, whatever they were, were not fundamentally different than us, and the visual tone of the place was enough like the deserts of earth for me to relate to it.

  At last I understood. It was the somber and complete silence. There was certainly no beeping and whirring, such as I was used to, but there were not even more earthly sounds such as leaves rustling in the wind, locusts chirping, insects or other vermin scuttling. No trickle of water, not even a slight whisper of a breeze going past our ears. Nothing.

  As we approached the structure, it became clear that it was a hard, brick-like wall rising up out of the sand, about ten meters high. Looking carefully at the dull, sandy surface we could see that it turned sharply and seemed to form a square enclosure. At first I could not judge how long the front of it was, but as we got closer I decided it was something like four hundred meters.

  There was a small opening in the front that was about twice the size of a standard doorway, and it was the only visible gap in the firm, resolute wall. There was clearly a door that had been slid out of the way, and I wondered why these beings found it necessary to erect this wall. From what could they need protection?

  Elasson and the apparent leader had now reached the doorway, and stopped to turn back to us. I studied their respective faces, and found what certainly looked like very human emotions there. Elasson’s young face was full of worry, and his eyes turned towards me frequently. At the same time, there was a curiosity, an alert wonderment in his dark eyes. His companion looked stern and authoritative, yet I thought I could detect a different kind of worry in his face too. Elasson looked as though he were afraid for someone else, and the other appeared more concerned for himself.

  It was strange, I mused, that we could not understand a word each other said—yet we understood each other so well.

  “Eiserchomai,” commanded the older one, gesturing into the walled place. I peered through the doorway as the Captain obeyed. I could see a long row of tents and about forty people in the dust, some sitting in front of tents, some walking in and out and between. I felt my jaw drop, and I looked up at the Doctor.

  He patted my arm, which was looped through his, and we followed the Captain inside. Crash and Mr. Whales followed us.

  Once inside the walls, I looked around in amazement. Row upon row of tents stretched off into the distance. They appeared to be made of the same greenish substance as Elasson’s clothes. The people stopped their work as we passed, staring at us with wide eyes; frightened, curious, some even excited. Middle-aged women were seated in front of the tents with young children at their feet, weaving green sinews on wooden looms, or pounding out red grains similar to corn. Small children stopped playing with stones and sticks and hurried to stand behind their mothers, their sandy hands clutching at the coarse skirts. A tall, black-haired young woman with a jar of water balanced on her shoulder stood motionless, watching as we moved along.

  Our guide led us down the middle of the vast, dull space, and the way people moved out of his way showed that he was someone of importance. It was only slightly shaded inside, as the sun was still fairly high in the sky.

  There didn’t seem to be enough people for the massive amount of tents that crowded the walled space. About half of the tents we passed had no one near them, and the spaces between the rows weren’t crowded enough to make walking uncomfortable or slow. More young women carrying water and baskets pushed past us, and my arm was poked by something hard and sharp as a young man about my own age passed me. I squealed a bit, and looked to see what looked like a wooden hoe being carried off. I rubbed my arm where it had scratched me.

  As we passed one of the tents, a tiny girl with jet black hair and a tunic that fell to her knees and left her shoulders ran up to me. Reaching up towards my face, she cried out, “Horaios thrix!”

  I slipped my arm out of the Doctor’s and knelt on the girl’s level. Her mother left her loom hurriedly and reached after the child.

  The girl, undaunted, reached out and ran her sandy fingers through my light hair. “Horaios thrix!” she repeated, and looking around, I understood her wonderment. Everyone here had black or dark gray hair, and even the others in my group were fairly dark haired. My honey-golden color presented quite a contrast.

  The woman snatched the girl away and looked at me with her head down as if to apologize. I smiled and stood up.

  “Come on, Andi.” Crash pulled at my sleeve. “They’re leading us out.”

  My eyes still on the child, I followed him and the others as our guide turned and led us to another portal in the wall.

  When we entered, I saw that we were in another roofless enclosure, about the size of one of the public lounges on the Surveyor. It had a tent in one corner, larger than the others. Against the back wall sat a man, in a large but fairly plain wooden chair.

  The man was black-haired and relatively fair, like Elasson, but there the resemblance ended. This man was tall and broad-shouldered, with a strong jaw and jutting nose, wide eyebrows and black hair that fell to his earlobes. I thought that if he stood he would be at least two meters. He was clothed much like the others, but on his head was a round cap, shaped like Elasson’s but bigger. His muscular arms rested commandingly on the arms of the chair, and he looked down at us with power in his dark eyes.

  Elasson and the other two men knelt at once before this striking figure, and we thought it wise to do the same. I felt the warm sand shifting below my skirt as I pressed my knees to the ground.

  “Anistemi,” the man said in a deep voice, and following the lead of the inhabitants, we stood up.

  Elasson appro
ached the chair, and the man who sat there looked disdainfully at him. The man who had led us stepped forward and began to speak, a long speech that I don’t remember. But the king, emperor, or whatever the man was, looked at us periodically, and I felt sure that our escort was telling him everything he knew about us. At one point the man behind us interrupted, and strode forward to place the Captain’s communicator in the ruler’s hand.

  The ruler looked at it with his dark eyebrows furrowed, and glared at the Captain.

  “Hymeis men apochoreite, Perekhon,” he said, and the two who had been speaking bowed and left, letting down a cloth in the doorway behind them.

  There were a few moments of silence, during which the leader stared at us and we stared back.

  Then he turned to Elasson and asked a question of some kind, to which the younger man shook his head. With a sigh and a stern look, the ruler turned back to us.

  “Houtoi d’ eipete hoitines este?” he asked.

  The Captain stepped forward and shook his head. “We can’t understand your language. I’m sorry.” He pointed to himself and said “I’m Captain Trent.”

  The eyebrows only furrowed further, but the man pointed to himself and replied, “Basilius.”

  Nodding, the Captain pointed to each of the landing party in turn. “Doctor Lloyd. Crash. Whales. Andi.”

  As he pronounced my name slowly and clearly, the ruler’s eyebrow’s raised, and he looked questioningly at Elasson, who explained something. With a slight shrug, Basilius turned back to us. He began speaking in an authoritative voice, whether to us or to Elasson, I was not sure. He didn’t seem to be interested in an answer from either, but after a moment he called, “Perekhon!”

  The man who had escorted us before entered quickly, as if he had been waiting just beyond the cloth.

  “Es phylaken poieisthai dei tousde tous aprepos epembantas,” the ruler said loudly, pointing a thick finger at our group. “Kenen d’ eis skenen agagontes prostasset autois phylakas.”

  “Kathos keleueis, o basileu,” Perenku replied, and he took the Captain’s arm roughly.

  “What are you doing?” cried the Captain. “We don’t mean any harm to you or your people, we only…”

  “Basilius, lissomai se…” Elasson pleaded, but the ruler held up his hand haughtily for silence.

  “Oohk!” he called. “Ex aitheros pareisin hin’ hemas diaphtheirosi; dio kai aphairethenton.”

  Crash impetuously reached for his belt, where his blaster was, but the Captain put out a hand to stop him. “No,” he said urgently, “not yet.”

  Reluctantly, Crash drew his hand away and prepared to follow.

  “Best just to wait,” Whales agreed quietly. “We don’t even know yet what they’re going to do.”

  I kept my thoughts to myself but held the Doctor’s arm tightly once again. Perekhon led the Captain forcibly out, and we all followed. At the sound of Elasson’s voice pleading in the unknown tongue once again, I turned to glance over my shoulder. But it was clear that he was getting nowhere with Basilius.

  As we walked past the rows of tents again, I looked for even a single smile and didn’t find one. The women wove, ground and sewed incessantly, and the children’s play was quiet and unobtrusive. The few men were engaged in carving, building, or carrying things, and the place presented the appearance of a hive of bees; working, always working.

  Every face was dirty and tired, and every head of hair was uncombed and unkept or tightly tied out of the way. Everything was plain to the point of extreme dullness. Yet every now and then I found a pair of eyes that flashed with determination, giving me an idea of the strength they drew on to survive such harsh conditions.

  An old woman wrinkled almost beyond recognition sat on a stool in front of one tent we passed, her hands shaking as they slowly wove fibers through a wooden loom in front of her. Her gray hair hung around her face, and a shapeless tunic engulfed her thin form. As we passed, she looked up at me, her hands still shaking as she paused her work. Her eyes were a light brown, but as they met mine, I looked in vain for a hint of personality behind them. She just stared, expressionless, until we were five meters away, and then she went back to her work.

  We reached a green tent a half-dozen spaces from the wall, and one of our escorts bent and lifted the tent flap, then looked at us.

  “I guess this is our prison,” the Captain said dryly, and ducked in without further comment. The others followed, and I paused at the entrance to give the dusty community one more look. Then I turned and entered the faded tent.

  VII

  The Captain paced down the length of the tent, about a dozen steps, then wheeled abruptly and paced back to the other end. I watched him, and leaned my head against the Doctor’s shoulder. He put an arm around me, but when I looked up at his face it was serious and contemplative.

  “Are your communicators functioning?” The Captain stopped pacing and faced us to ask this question.

  “We turned them off,” Crash said clearly, “so they wouldn’t be discovered. Should we try to contact Lieutenant—”

  “They’ll hear us, you fool,” the Captain cut him off.

  Crash’s jaw set. “Captain, what way will they have of knowing who we’re talking to? They haven’t stopped us from talking so far, and they can’t understand a word we say.”

  “I do wish you two would stop arguing.” The Doctor said. “Calm down, Trent, and plan your next move.”

  The Captain relaxed slightly. “Are the guards still there, Whales?”

  Shortly after the man addressed as “Perekhon” had brought us to the tent, we had discovered that two burly natives had been stationed at the opening. Also, our tent was on the back edge of the walled tent city, and to get out we would have to pass scores of people who could not fail to notice our escape.

  Whales peeked out the half-open tent flap. “Still there, sir.”

  The Captain rubbed a weary hand across his forehead, and sat down next to the Doctor. “What do you think, Gerry?”

  “I think you’re all wound up,” was the Doctor’s decided response. “Calm down and just think. You’re clever.”

  The Captain gave a half-smile. “You’re a lot of help, you know that?”

  “I’ve been told.”

  I smiled at the Captain’s half-sarcastic, half-grateful statement. There was nothing profound in the Doctor’s words, but his reaction once again helped to calm the Captain.

  “Alright.” Slapping his palms on his knees, the Captain stood up once again. “First, we have to have a talk about these inhabitants. I want to hear the thoughts of each one of you. And yes, Mr. Crash,” he turned to face Crash, who lounged in a corner, leaning cockily on his elbow, “I am asking for your opinion.”

  Crash, strangely enough, had no response to this. The Doctor didn’t say anything either. Whales, too, was silent.

  After a few moments of silence, I spoke up. “Captain?”

  “Yes?”

  “If you’re asking what they are, I think we can’t really know much about that. They’re here, they live on another planet. That’s points for your ideas. But they sure look like regular humans, just like us. That’s points for the Doctor’s beliefs.”

  “I disagree. If they’re humans, I ask again, how would they have gotten here? I don’t think their extra-terrestrial state is in question here. Are they hostile or just frightened? But another thing, Andi—I don’t need you to tell me what I think, or what your father thinks. What do you think?”

  I had nothing to say to this, and began to understand the silence of the others.

  “This is beside the point,” the Captain went on. “At the moment I don’t care whether they’re humans, aliens, or overgrown chickens with arms and legs. The point is, they have us in their custody. Why did this happen and what do we do about it? Interesting as the situation may be, survival is the first order of business.”

  “Here’s a question, Captain,” Crash spoke up, leaning back a little more. “What happened to o
ur ship on the way down here? There was no hole in the reactor when we left, and nothing unusual happened between then and our descent. What made that hole?”

  The Captain paced a few more steps and leaned his hand against the wall of the tent. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t know what caused that, and I don’t know what’s going on here.” Studying the thick, coarse, solid fabric under his fingers, he said, “Whales…”

  “The fibers are something like cotton, sir,” Whales supplied, anticipating the Captain’s question. “I didn’t see any plants that would produce anything like it on the way up here. Presumably the clothing of the inhabitants is the same material.”

  Turning to the Doctor, I asked quietly, “What do you think of Elasson?”

  “Elasson?” his face bore no sign of recognition.

  “I think that’s the name of the young man who has the cap, the one who stood next to the chair of the ruler in there. Who do you think he is?”

  The Doctor shook his head. “Perhaps he’s the son of the man—what did he say his name was?”

  “Basilius,” Whales reminded.

  “But Basilius looks too young to be his father.”

  “I don’t know, Andi. We have bigger problems on our hands right now.”

  I fell silent, and let the three of them—captain, doctor, and pilot—discuss the situation.

  “I say we just get out of here as quick as possible and get back to that ship,” was Crash’s decided opinion.

  “I’m surprised at you, Mr. Crash.” Pacing once again, the Captain clasped his hands behind his back and looked hard at Crash’s face. “This is a historic opportunity! And we have no reason at the moment to think we’re in real danger.”

  “And no way to know we’re not,” came the quick rejoinder.

  “We haven’t been hurt yet,” the Doctor reminded. “So let’s not hurt anyone, shall we?”

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Crash said impatiently, clapping his hand on the stool and standing up. “What about August and Mr. Ralston? What about Guilders up there wondering what in the world we’re doing and why we haven’t contacted them?”