Firmament: In His Image

by J. Grace Pennington

  The Captain stopped his pacing and stood thoughtfully. “For once I agree with you,” he sighed at last. “Whales, your communicator please.”

  Whales obediently reached into his pocket and pulled out the little black box. The Captain switched it to the correct frequency and spoke calmly into it. “Lieutenant Howitz, this is Captain Trent. Please do not respond to this message, or call any of us until I give you permission. We have discovered humanoid life forms who have taken us captive about half a kilometer away from you. The beings seem opposed to our communicators, so we will keep them turned off for the most part. Continue trying to fix the reactor, and find out what happened to it. If you need to communicate with us, send a beep but no message until we respond. If you have understood all this, please say understood.”

  A slightly fuzzy voice with a well-known Austrian accent answered, “Understood, sir.”

  “Trent out.” Putting the communicator back in his pocket, he said to Whales, “I’m going to have to keep this.”

  Whales nodded, and then said, “There’s no sign of technology anywhere that I’ve seen. Most likely your communicator scared them.”

  I rubbed my eyes absently. They itched. This didn’t seem so strange until I looked up to see Crash making the exact same motion.

  “I know you don’t care about my opinions, Trent,” the Doctor began, “but I’m going to tell you anyway. You can say anything you want and you’re still not getting me to believe that these are aliens.”

  “Good gracious, Gerry!” The Captain strode up to him. “I knew you were stubborn, but you’re not the kind of man to disregard your own senses! What do you want me to believe? That this is all some illusion? That they’re actually from our planet? You’re twisting facts to fit theories.”

  “I don’t know what to believe,” the Doctor went on firmly, “but I do know two things. Man and man alone was made in the image of God. And humans are the center of God’s love, judgment and care. We are made in His image, Trent. That’s not something to be taken lightly, or given up without a fight.”

  “Uncle,” Crash broke in, “we have discussed before that some kinds of life could be found on other planets without…”

  “Yes, non-sentient, non-spiritual life,” the Doctor interrupted. “And we’ve seen evidence here of spirituality and intelligence.”

  Crash was silenced for a moment. Then, “But here they are, Uncle. How do you explain that?”

  “There’s something I never expected to see,” the Captain half-laughed. “You’re on my side, Mr. Crash? Gerry, you know I don’t believe in God. That’s no secret. But even if I did, I never have understood why sentient extra-terrestrial life was contradictory to a Christian perspective. And I never will.” He reached up and rubbed his eyes momentarily.

  “Gentlemen,” spoke up the matter-of-fact voice of Mr. Whales. “I don’t know whether I should get involved in this discussion or not, but it seems to me that the proper, scientific way to solve this difficulty is to gather what data we can and then see what is the most likely theory based on the evidence. Such strong pre-conceptions will only cause problems.”

  I rubbed my eyes again. The Captain had a point. So did Whales. But I had always looked to the Doctor for guidance in everything. Crash’s sudden unsure manner disturbed me as well. His stubbornness had always matched that of the Captain and the Doctor. The three of them were among my favorite people, and their disagreement was starting to make my head spin.

  “Miss Andi,” Whales said, peering at me curiously. “Are you feeling alright?”

  “Yes,” I answered, looking straight at him. “Why do you ask?”

  “You keep rubbing your eyes. I just noticed it.”

  “They just itch a little.”

  “That’s odd. Mine do, too. Captain?”

  The Captain’s fingers went to his eyes and rubbed again. “I suppose they do itch a bit, though I hadn’t thought of it.”

  “It must be something in the air,” the Doctor said, rubbing his eyes.

  “Did you notice any of the—natives doing the same?” the Captain asked no one in particular.

  “No sir,” I responded quickly. I thought I would surely have noticed if a number of the many inhabitants had been doing it.

  “Their race must be immune to whatever it is.” The Captain smiled almost mischievously at the Doctor.

  “Adaptation, Trent. It happens on Earth all the time.” With these pointed words, the Doctor took my hand and helped me up. “Let me take a look at your eyes.”

  Obediently, I stood still and opened my eyes wide to let him examine them.

  The Captain pulled out his communicator again. “Surveyor, this is Captain Trent. We have been taken captive by an alien race here, but are not in danger at present. Do not try to call us, send an alert if you need something and I’ll get to you when I can. Please standby in orbit until further instructions. If you have understood this message, say ‘understood.’”

  “Understood, sir,” was the reply, and the Captain pocketed the communicator once more.

  The Doctor’s face was very close to mine, and his brow furrowed in confusion.

  “What do you see?” I asked quietly.

  He shook his head, let go of my face, and drew back slightly. “That’s just it. I don’t see anything. No redness, nothing.”

  “What we need,” the Captain began, but stopped as the tent flap opened.

  Crash’s hand went to his blaster, but the Captain shot him a warning look. Elasson’s face appeared in the opening.

  “Erchesthe meta mou chairontes,” he said, beckoning to us.

  Then he held up the tent flap, and the Captain, with a glance in our direction, followed him out.

  VIII

  “Phere,” Elasson said again, beckoning, and I took the Doctor’s arm and followed with him. Crash and Whales came behind us, Whales with his ever-present crate of instruments.

  The young man began leading us through the colony, which was slightly busier than before. The sun had sunk below the top of the wall, and cast an orange light over everything inside, and men of all ages carried crude baskets between the rows of tents. Women wound their extra threads onto wooden cards, and teenagers carefully placed shovels and rakes against the wall. I saw the little girl who had looked at my hair earlier, and smiled at her. She smiled back, and ran her fingers through her dark stringy hair as she stared after me.

  Elasson led us into a tent at the other end of the wall. It was a very large one, about double the size of one of the cabins on the Surveyor. In the center was a crude wooden table with wooden stools for seats, like the stool Crash had been leaning against earlier. There were about half a dozen places on each side. Other than this, the room was completely bare. There was nothing to embellish it or make it even interesting.

  Sitting down on one of the stools, Elasson beckoned for us to do the same. The Captain sat across from him, his head held high. He is an imposing figure; I couldn’t help thinking, as I sat between Elasson and the Doctor. Crash sat next to the Captain, and Whales beside him.

  There was an awkward silence for a moment, because there was nothing to say. We couldn’t understand each other.

  Finally Elasson pointed to the Captain. “Cop-ten Trent?” he said slowly and curiously.

  “Captain Trent,” he affirmed.

  “Elasson.” The youth pointed at himself again. Then he looked around at each of us. “Pinao?”

  We were all silent, looking at each other. After a moment, Elasson repeated the word while pretending to put something in his mouth. Leaning forward, I nodded my head and rubbed my stomach. “Yes, we’re hungry.”

  “Pikria,” he called, in the direction of a small doorway opposite, and a moment later, thin, a tired-looking woman emerged. Her black hair was tied back tightly and unattractively, and her clothes were as worn and severely plain as everyone else’s.

  “Nai, kurios?” she said in a thick, low voice.

  “Tois de xenois phere deipnon,” h
e said pleasantly, and with a slight bow, she left.

  I wondered again what relationship—if any—he bore to the stern Basilius. I couldn’t help thinking that it must have been by his influence that we had been freed.

  As I was thinking these things, the Captain said, “We don’t know what our status is. Perhaps he’s just been instructed to feed us and take us back. Don’t try anything rash.”

  He was addressing all of us, but he looked at Crash.

  Crash shrugged and turned to look at Elasson. “What do you call this?” he asked, pointing to the table.

  Seeming to understand, Elasson pointed too, and said, “Trapeza.” Then he looked questioningly at Crash, and Crash said clearly, “Table.”

  “Tay-bull,” said the young man carefully, and then smiled excitedly.

  I rubbed my eyes again, and the Doctor squeezed my arm gently. “Does it hurt?” he asked.

  “Not really. Just bothers me a little. It doesn’t seem to be getting any worse.”

  “Neither does mine,” Crash agreed, turning to me. “Hey Whales, I just had a thought… did anybody see any animals while we were coming here?”

  “I thought of that.” Whales nodded seriously. “I didn’t see so much as a lizard or a cricket. No birds in the skies, no snakes in the dust—nothing.”

  “A planet with only one kind of inhabitant,” the Captain mused. “How does that fit with your thesis, Gerry? What kind of a God would create human beings on a planet that was so barren, so harsh? Isn’t part of your creation legend supposed to be God creating animals as companions for man, and plants for his food?”

  I swallowed, and looked up at the Doctor again. His response was as stubborn as ever. “And your thesis, Trent? If these people evolved here, where are the creatures they supposedly evolved from?”

  The Captain laughed slightly.

  Crash didn’t take part in the conversation, I noticed. Elasson watched us, curiosity very evident on his face. I tried to think of a way to ask him some of the many things I was so curious about.

  At last I thought of something. I tapped him on the shoulder, but when he turned to me I felt suddenly shy.

  “Elasson,” I stammered. “What is this?” I tried to make sure my tone was obviously questioning, and I reached up and touched his cap.

  I thought he understood, and he appeared deep in thought about how to tell me. We sat there in silence for a moment, and then his face brightened.

  “Touto kat’ ophthalmous soi deixo,” he said eagerly, and then stood up and hurried a little ways from the table. He knelt in the sand and looked expectantly at me. I stood up, but looked back at the Doctor, who was still talking with the Captain. But Elasson hadn’t gone far, so I followed suit and sat next to him, wondering.

  Digging his index finger into the sand, he began drawing. I watched as he drew crude figures of several small people bowing in a group. Then he drew a large object that I was unsure of at first, but as he drew a large person sitting on it, I realized that it was a chair. The little people were bowing to the large person, I realized. Then he made a clumsy effort at drawing the round cap on top of the person’s head.

  I had thought as much—the cap had something to do with the rulers. But I was still unsure why Elasson wore one.

  “Andi?” The Doctor had noticed my absence now, and was looking for me.

  I waved my hand at him. “I’m here, Doctor. Elasson is trying to show me things about the people and the culture.”

  The Doctor started to get up to come join us, but the Captain held out an arm to stop him. “Let her alone, Gerry. You can watch her from here, and we may learn more if we just let him show her. We don’t want to overwhelm or alarm him.”

  The Doctor submitted, but from that point on he didn’t take his eyes off me for more than a few seconds at a time.

  Elasson kept drawing, and I went back to watching. He now drew several more people, larger than the bowers but smaller than the ruler. They all were standing beside the “throne,” and when he had drawn five or six, he drew caps on their heads and connected them with lines.

  Either people working for the ruler, or the family of the ruler, I thought. But which was it? I thought back to the subservient Perekhon. He had no cap, but it was clear that he was part of the “government” of this place.

  Elasson looked at me, and I furrowed my brows, trying to show confusion. I pointed at him, then pointed to the picture of the big man.

  Shaking his head, Elasson wiped the picture away with his hand and started fresh. First he drew the man in the chair again, and then he drew what I thought to be a baby wrapped in a blanket. Then he drew a line connecting the two.

  I wasn’t sure if he was saying that the man in the chair was the baby, or that he was the son of Basilius, but I was silent and watched as he continued drawing. He drew a man standing next to a woman, and drew the same picture of a baby between them. Then he paused for a second to look at me, as if to see if I understood. Next he drew another woman on the other side of the man and another, smaller baby between the two of them. He pointed quickly from the man in the chair to the larger baby, and then from himself to the smaller baby.

  At last I thought I knew what he meant. He was the half-brother of Basilius. That seemed to fit—he was technically a part of the “royal” family, but much younger, and also the son of a different wife. That would explain a great deal of why he was both favored and scorned.

  I nodded, and smiled to show that I understood. He wiped the picture away with his hand again, and looked expectantly at me.

  I realized that he wanted me to show him something about us. But I was hesitant. He seemed nice and helpful, but we still knew so little about this place, and even less of the intentions of Basilius. I tried to think of what I could tell him that couldn’t endanger us.

  At last I put my finger in the sand and began to draw. I drew a stick figure of a man, and then pointed from the drawing to the Doctor, to show that they were the same person. Elasson nodded.

  Next I drew a picture of a baby in the Doctor’s arms, and pointed from myself to it, to show that I was his daughter. After smiling for an instant, Elasson frowned slightly, and drew a picture of a woman next to the picture of the Doctor. He looked at me inquiringly.

  Shaking my head sadly, I drew an X over the woman he had drawn. My mother had died long ago. I couldn’t think of a way to explain to him that the Doctor was only my adoptive father and that both of my parents were dead—but I didn’t think it mattered at the moment, anyway.

  Nodding slowly, he put his finger in the dust again and drew another woman, this one holding a small baby. After pointing from himself to the baby, he drew an X like mine over the woman.

  I looked at his face, for the first time feeling a sense of common humanity with him. Before I had subconsciously been thinking of these inhabitants as different from us, somehow not truly human, whatever their biological makeup might be. But that was wrong. This young man had a life just as real as mine; a heart, a mind, and emotions, as genuine as my own.

  I was looking at him, wondering what his life was really like, when I heard the Doctor call my name.

  “Andi,” he said, “our—dinner—is here.”

  I stood up, wondering what he meant by saying it like that, but it didn’t take me long to find out. Before each place was an earthen bowl full of tough-looking green leaves, dry, fleshy chunks of some unfamiliar greenery, and a few hard brown berries scattered here and there.

  I sat down beside the Doctor again, looking at the contents of my bowl. “Do you suppose this is the only food they have?” I asked the Captain.

  “Come on, And, don’t tell me you mind a little fiber in your diet,” said Crash, grimacing over a thick leaf he’d pulled from his salad.

  “He has some too,” Whales pointed out, gesturing towards Elasson. Sure enough, his bowl was neither larger than ours, nor filled with anything more appealing.

  “No wonder everybody’s so thin,” grunted the Doctor,
following Elasson’s lead by popping a piece into his mouth.

  “Aren’t you going to insist that we pray, Gerry?” the Captain asked as he took a bite.

  “This food doesn’t deserve to be blessed,” the Doctor responded grimly, “but if it makes you feel any better, I already prayed.”

  “Suddenly I’m not sorry for Howitz and Ralston. At least they have food stores on board.” Crash gnawed on a berry. “I take back every nasty thing I ever said about freeze-dried.”

  “Speaking of which,” I reminded, “we do still have ours in our packs.”

  “True,” the Captain nodded. “But I think we should save that for an emergency.”

  I glanced sideways at Elasson, who was eating his food with an almost ravenous relish. This seemed corroborate the idea that this meal was the usual fare of the colony. How could a whole civilization live off of food like this?

  But he had finished his food, and was watching me eat mine, clearly impatient to get back to our drawing. I did my best to scarf down the remaining food, instinctively feeling that it would be a high insult to leave any of it in the bowl.

  At last, I gagged down the last leaf and smiled weakly at Elasson, who was staring at me, unsure of what to think. He probably isn’t even aware that food can taste good, I thought, as I stood up and followed him back to where we’d drawn the pictures. The Doctor kept a careful eye on me as he continued eating.

  Elasson seemed to be waiting for me, so I started by wiping my picture away. Then I thought for a moment. What else should I show him? I began wondering again how he and his two companions had come upon us so suddenly, and I thought if I drew a scene of our arrival, he just might show me somehow.

  I drew a long horizontal line to represent the ground, and then a sun high above it to show the sky. To show that he understood, he reached down and drew a stubby tree and a pool of water on the ground.

  Next, I drew the best representation I could of the Apogee, suspended in the air, and then I drew people in it. I had nearly drawn seven, but I caught myself at five. We didn’t want them to know about August and Ralston; not yet.