House of the Galactic Elevator

by Gerhard Gehrke

  Guards walked about alone or in groups of three. None paid attention to the compound where the refugees were held. When in larger groups, they pawed at each other as if they were adolescents confirming all the lessons learned in their life science classes. Some didn’t carry weapons and even looked disheveled, as if they hadn’t had time to groom before leaving the house in the morning. The sun was coming up. The vehicles Toggs could see sat idle and unattended. Toggs did his best job at stealthing, which for him was a slower-than-normal lumber with his arms held out for balance. Toggs made it to one of the larger vehicles.

  It had its rear hatch down. Toggs looked inside, saw no one, and climbed in. He had to duck. Six seats lined either side of the back compartment. He felt and smelled the armor of the vehicle. Some kind of painted aluminum compound. Processed and tough, typical for the Earth tech level. Nothing a Kloman particle beam couldn’t cut through in a flash. He moved to the forward seats reserved for the driver and other two crew members. Judging by the controls and the barrel out the front of the vehicle, one of these seats would be used by whoever would be shooting the weapon or weapons this war machine held. One of the other seats had a small computer, several gadgets mounted on the walls, a periscope, and plenty of switches with abbreviated labels. Toggs couldn’t sit in any of the seats, as they were too small. One device had a series of dials, a handset, and a toggle that read “On” and “Off.”

  It was already on. Toggs turned one knob labeled “Volume.” A faint hiss came from a speaker. Headsets hung unplugged next to each of the front seats. He saw open female jacks underneath the knobs. A radio, no doubt. Toggs worked one of the other dials, the numbers on a green-and-black display moving up at seemingly random intervals. Presets, he realized. He soon found a pair of humans speaking in a low tone. After a minute Toggs determined this was an exchange between a pilot and an airbase. Both humans sounded bored, running through a routine they had been through many times. No emergency, no sense of “Help, an alien virus has compromised my pod mates! Send digestive aids and purgatives.”

  He kept scanning.

  “August Curry Ten, this is Omega Watchdog,” a voice said. This repeated, adding, “You are four hours past critical status check, please respond, over.”

  Whoever this Omega Watchdog was, he repeated himself again. After a third reminder that the four-hour mark had been passed, Toggs heard, “August Curry Ten, this is Omega Watchdog, be advised. Level two security response has been initiated. I repeat, level two security response has been initiated.”

  Toggs considered saying something, as this Omega Watchdog fellow sounded concerned. But Toggs guessed that the human on the other end might react badly to an untranslated Kloman greeting, which had been unfairly described by non-Kloman as a water herbivore’s birthing cry.

  Toggs backed out of the vehicle and ran straight into one of the human soldiers. This one had a helmet and a bulging vest with pockets for ammo, flashlight, and maybe even his young for all Toggs knew. Toggs made a show of meaning no harm, kept his hands open and his arms down. Raising his arms tended to spook the humans, as he was already at least a head taller than any of them. The soldier leaned in and gave Toggs a sniff.

  “Thaco?” Toggs said. Toggs placed a hand on the soldier.

  The soldier brushed the hand away. “Do not interfere.”

  “We need to talk,” Toggs said, but the soldier ignored him and wandered away. None of the humans had translators, thus Thaco had none either. It hadn’t taken it from its original host when it left the corpse behind, and even if it had, the virus colony had divided dozens of times. Toggs watched the soldier wander towards a tent where other humans, soldiers and the ones in the dark suits alike, milled about. Toggs guessed there were around fifty Thacos at the tent. They brushed one another’s hands as they mingled.

  Toggs took a deep breath and marched towards them.

  “Hello Thaco!” Toggs said in the warmest tone he knew.

  It got the crowd’s attention. They all turned.

  “Do not interfere,” one said.

  “Do not interfere,” said another.

  So said a third. It turned into a softly spoken chorus, voiced in identical tones.

  “Do any of you have translators?” Toggs asked. “Anyone?”

  They stared at him for a moment and then went back to their mingling, a slow turning between dozens of partners where the steps were only known to them alone. Was this a Thaco victory dance? Had they actually grabbed all the humans around the camp?

  “Nice talking to you,” Toggs said. He went back to the medical exam tent, not bothering to sneak. No one stopped him.

  “It’s me, Toggs,” he said as he entered.

  The doctor stood over one of the tables with a guard on it. The guard lay on his side, a paper emesis basin by his mouth. The basin was close to full of vomit. The doctor was fully gowned with goggles and gloves that went to the elbows. An IV line was attached to the guard’s arm, running from a bag of clear liquid hanging on a metal stand. The second guard and the Grey remained secured to nearby tables. Neither moved.

  Jeff Abel stepped from the side of the tent. He held one of the human weapons.

  “You look like you’re feeling better,” Toggs said.

  “Maybe the doc got to me quickly enough,” Jeff said. “Or I got some help from an app that has priority access to my brain.”

  Toggs just nodded.

  “What’s going on outside?” Jeff asked.

  “Thaco has taken over,” Toggs said. “It’s holding a celebration or something out front.”

  “Wonder why it hasn’t come after its two missing mates?”

  “Because it’s not telepathic. If it knew about them or the two of you, it would be here by now.”

  “Let’s be glad for that,” Doctor Cochran said. She pulled a thermostat from her patient’s ear and checked the results. She then took the dish of glop and poured it into a plastic sink. She chased it down with a jet of water from a long hose.

  “How is he?” Toggs asked.

  “I’ve administered antivirals and a purgative. I’d like to induce a hypermetabolic state followed by an ice bath, but we don’t have the tub set up for that. I’d have to leave the tent to gather up the equipment. Still, he’s brought up as much stuff as Jeff has, and Jeff seems to be feeling okay.”

  “Is he awake?” Toggs asked.

  “More or less,” she said.

  Toggs got close to the guard on the table. The man’s eyes opened halfway and stared dully.

  “Who is Omega Watchdog?” Toggs asked.

  When the man didn’t answer, Toggs tapped the man’s head with a finger. The man squinted and tried to draw away.

  “Can you ask?” Toggs asked Doctor Cochran. “We need to know about Omega Watchdog. And what is the level two security response?”

  The man gave a cough. Toggs thought the man was about to pass out, and was about to tap the man’s head again when Doctor Cochran grabbed Toggs’ arm.

  “I can answer that,” she said with a sigh. “Level two is when the outer quarantine zone reacts to the suspicion that the inner zone has been compromised. The protocol allows for the fact that there might be something exactly like Thaco among the alien visitors. So the next step is to confirm whether there are any unaffected personnel left that can respond. This will be followed by remote surveillance. Cameras around the camp will look for signals that would confirm a simple communication failure. They’ll also check for prearranged all-clears with drones.”

  “What kind of all-clears?” Jeff asked.

  “Guards at posts. An hourly series of lights either on or off at the command tent that the Director controls. If the radio guys stopped answering and giving check-ins, the assumption is that things aren’t going so well.”

  “Sounds like the camp is about to fail the level-two check,” Jeff said.

  She nodded. Her face hardened.

  “So what’s level one?” Toggs asked.

  “They nuke the
site,” she said.

  Toggs thought about that for a moment and without a word headed into the compound where the rest of the prisoners were being held.

  ***

  “So we need to get everyone out of here,” Jeff said.

  “And take them where?” Doctor Cochran asked.

  “Anywhere but ground zero. Nuke the site? Are you kidding me? This is California. They can’t nuke it.”

  The doctor removed her gloves, washed up, pulled the mask on her face down and put the goggles up. She moved with calm precision, as if she were about to break for lunch and hadn’t just announced that they were going to have an atom bomb dropped on their location. Jeff saw that she looked tired. That didn’t stop him from wanting to shake her to snap her out of her lethargy and to answer his question.

  “If it’s any comfort,” she said finally, “it’s not so much a nuke as a fuel air bomb. Same basic result without all the radiation.”

  “The Director would authorize this?” Jeff asked.

  “He preauthorized it before entering the quarantine zone. We all knew about the possibility. It’s out of our control now unless we somehow get the Director and enough of the troops uninfected, and we just don’t have the time for that.”

  Jeff put a hand to his head and closed his eyes. “Why didn’t you say something earlier?”

  “I didn’t know Thaco could spread so quickly.”

  “How far out does the perimeter go? Is the airfield inside the quarantine zone?”

  “Yes, of course it is. Anywhere any of the visitors were has to be considered possibly contaminated.”

  “Let’s go call the outer perimeter then. There has to be someone we can reach.”

  “And without the proper passwords? What would be your assumption if you lost contact with your base that had been overrun by extraterrestrials and then get a call that everything’s hunky-dory from someone not in command?”

  “I’d have enough brains to not go nuclear,” Jeff said. He realized he was speaking at a raised volume.

  “Our primary goal is containment. Discovery and observation are secondary.”

  “And what about executing two thousand extraterrestrials from as many worlds? Any of you brainiacs game out the repercussions of that particular option?”

  Now Doctor Cochran was shouting. “It’s not my plan! I’m trying to keep anyone here from dying or being dissected.”

  “Will the two of you shut up?” the Grey said. Irving groaned, still strapped to one of the tables. “I have a headache, and this is not helping.” It wriggled about but couldn’t get free. “Hey, human, how about letting me up.”

  “You are staying put,” Jeff said.

  “We’re wasting time arguing,” she said. “And where’s Toggs?”

  Jeff looked around. He had seen the big alien head into the inner compound, but he hadn’t returned. A moment later, Jeff heard him.

  From the interior of the camp, Toggs’ voice boomed. “Everyone! I need everyone to listen to me. We are leaving now. The guards won’t stop us, and we need to head out. This way, please.”

  “Oh crap,” Jeff said.

  The ground rumbled and the tent vibrated as two thousand Galactic Commons refugees used the exam tent as an exit. They didn’t come two-by-two or in any orderly fashion but as one massive throng with Toggs taking the lead. Toggs waved the rest on when he got to Jeff and Doctor Cochran.

  “We’re leaving,” Toggs said. “I suppose we should take the Grey.”

  “Indeed!” the Grey said. “Get me off this table.”

  A complex whiff of pine tree mixed with rotten eggs wafted through the air. Toggs unstrapped the Grey and snatched the little alien up under an arm. It offered a token struggle but soon hung limp with a sour look on its face.

  “There could be a bomb coming,” Jeff said, still trying to wrap his own head around the idea.

  “I know,” Toggs said. “I was there. I heard.”

  “The old airport is still inside the quarantine zone. We have to assume it’s in range.”

  “Then let’s hope your friend can figure out how to get all of us out of here.”

  The parade of refugees continued to push past. Most gave Jeff and Doctor Cochran a suspicious glance or sniff.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Doctor Cochran said to the passing aliens. She repeated this in a soothing voice. None seemed soothed by her words, but a certain energy circulated through the crowd. They might be going home and they all knew it.

  The doctor shoulder-bumped Toggs to get his attention. “This is what we on Earth call a Hail Mary play.”

  “If you say so,” Toggs said. He repositioned the wriggling Grey. “Let me get to the head of this procession and keep it rolling forward. You guys might need to use the exodus as cover if you want to avoid Thaco’s attention.”

  With that, Toggs elbowed forward into the moving crowd. Each time he bumped the tent wall it pushed and stretched and looked as if it might tear or pull up from its mooring.

  “What about them?” Jeff asked, indicating the two guards.

  Both looked completely passed out.

  “I’m not one hundred percent sure they are free of infection,” Doctor Cochran said.

  She collected a bag and began to fill it with medical supplies.

  “Just in case,” she said.

  They pushed into the shuffling line and exited the exam tent. Jeff saw the doctor flinch several times as she was nudged or elbowed by the fleeing menagerie. The crush of creatures spread out once outside. The morning air tasted sweet and the rising sun felt warm on Jeff’s face.

  Toggs led the column forward through the camp. At a narrow point between two tents, a dozen Thaco soldiers stood nearby. These men and women in uniform watched with little interest. One studied them closer. Flat Nose. He stared intently and sniffed the air.

  “Uh-oh,” Jeff said.

  “Yeah, I see him,” Doctor Cochran whispered.

  They kept their heads down and maneuvered themselves so they walked on the far side of the moving column. Still, they would pass close enough to be seen.

  “This way,” Jeff said.

  They broke from the group and circled around the outside of one of the large tents, a path leading them well away from Flat Nose. Jeff stopped abruptly when he saw the Director along with six other men in dark suits standing in their way. Thaco had been waiting for them.

  “All we require of you is a moment of cooperation,” the Director said.

  As if receiving an unseen cue, two of the men barfed up Thaco globs into their hands.

  “Thaco, there’s something you need to know,” Jeff said.

  The two soldiers began to advance on them. Doctor Cochran gave Jeff a push.

  “Stop trying to talk and run!”

  They ran. They ducked between pallets of supplies and parked vehicles, running a path that took them further along the exterior of the compound fence. The men in dark suits followed with piles of yuck dripping in their outstretched hands, like young boys with a frog or a dead bird, eager to share with anyone that might be grossed out by such a sight. After making some distance, Jeff and Doctor Cochran turned a corner, passing along the side of a camo mesh blind that covered a pair of Humvees. Jeff felt his breathing coming up short. He began to sweat. A stitch already pinched his sides. Doctor Cochran stayed close, following with an easy gait, her heels barely touching the ground, her feet acting like springs. In contrast to her, Jeff’s feet fell flat, and he trotted along with no fluidity.

  “Are you okay?” Doctor Cochran asked.

  “Just out of shape,” he said.

  She was sweating but breathed easily enough. They paused and took a look behind them.

  “I don’t see them,” she said.

  “They’re coming, no doubt. Let’s move. I’m fine.”

  They found the edge of camp and headed for the distant trees. Jeff saw the line of Galactic Commons refugees heading in roughly the same direction across an open field of dirt and p
atches of dry grass.

  “So we have something that will get us out of here?” Doctor Cochran said.

  Jeff had to gasp and couldn’t speak. The cramp had grown worse. Trying to breathe felt like a vice on his throat. He couldn’t get enough air into his burning lungs. He promised himself to include a cardiovascular exercise in his routine. Honestly.

  Jeff gave up trying to speak and just nodded. Then he shook his head and shrugged. He waved them forward. There were no Thaco or any other humans in the field. Once they made it to the trees, Jeff put up a hand and they stopped.

  “We have an elevator to get us out of here,” Jeff said, panting hard. “At least that’s how it translates. It can take us back to the city where these people come from. The elevator’s kind of small, though. Just fits a few people at a time.”

  “That’s a start, at least.”

  “And all of that assuming Oliop gets it going again.”

  ***

  Oliop couldn’t get the elevator going again.

  He kicked the console. He tried rebooting the system. He checked for power, found the battery hooked up and in good order. Enough juice for a hundred transits even if it were decoupled from the power source when back at the transportation terminal. He muttered and cursed, but the boxy conveyance ignored him.

  He then looked for the worm the Grey had given him after their arrival on Earth and found that it was missing.

  He snapped his fingers, feeling a moment of joy in understanding the problem, which lasted but a moment when he realized that until he found the worm the elevator would never work. He searched his pockets and his tools but it wasn’t there.

  Maybe it had returned of its own volition to the elevator. He first checked the tiny recess where the worm had inserted itself. Not there. Of course, the thing was quite small, small enough that he hadn’t even known that they were an integral part of the machinery even after years of working as a tech with the transportation department. Up until the worms’ recent reveal, Oliop had certainly seen them, but he’d assumed they were merely some superficial bolt, a remnant from a design revision never eliminated, or perhaps some kind of sacrificial anode to care for an unknown issue the elevators experienced during operations. Since they never moved, they appeared to be one of many parts. The original building of the elevators was a mystery, so anything in their operation that wasn’t understood was left alone. The advice to check the manual had become a joke he had shared many times with the automated bots that came through his machine shop.