House of the Galactic Elevator

by Gerhard Gehrke

  The Director pointed at Toggs, a wordless order to the soldier next to him. But the soldier’s hands were trembling. He put down the rifle and the vitamin overdose did its magic trick on the alien virus in his gut. Again came the wet rumbling noise that would become etched in Toggs’ mind before this was all over. The Director sighed in frustration. He pulled a sidearm and aimed it at Toggs. Toggs backed up. The Director stepped inside. Toggs kept himself between the pistol and the doctor.

  “How do I stop this?” the Director said.

  “You don’t,” the doctor said. “Looks like the virus is coming out of you one way or another. If I were you, I’d pick the one that preserves the most dignity while there’s still time.”

  ***

  The guards had become the patients, and the prisoners were the nursemaids. Toggs tried to have Kwed take the lead in training some of the former internees in the finer art of nursing sick humans, but the millipedoid was once again nowhere to be found. Once Toggs gathered enough willing help together, Doctor Cochran took over, instructing the alien visitors on setting up enough cots outside and caring for the cleaning of the recently infected.

  For every Galactic Commons citizen repulsed by humans and their body fluids there was another willing to help out, if for no other reason than to get a first-hand education on human anatomy. The sick men and women were stripped and washed and put to bed.

  The first indication that any of the humans were free of infection came when Flat Nose asked for water. The doctor put him through a series of tests. She bemoaned the fact that she didn’t have a swallowable camera but settled for mouth and throat cultures and drawn blood. She moved efficiently about the makeshift lab and griped about the ad hoc setup. Toggs watched everything she did, marveling at the human female’s tireless efforts to help the soldiers and agents get well, especially in light of the fact that these had only recently been trying to infect her.

  It was evening time when Kwed showed up again.

  He burst through the door, colliding with Toggs. He was babbling. His feet and hands were a frenzy of motion. Toggs reached out and clamped a hand on Kwed’s neck.

  “What is it?”

  “The elevators are back.”

  ***

  The remains of the storm faded into a centrifugal swirl of thinning clouds that moved lazily away from the palace. Jeff checked each display available within the virtual weather control room. Of the few diagnostic processes that he could access and understand, everything looked peachy. But so much remained locked down behind the Grey’s password. There was no way to know whether Lady Capitoline’s final act had done anything to the palace or its programs.

  He logged out. Oliop and Jordan sat on the plinth of a thick-legged elephant statue. It held a hammer and a chisel in its dual trunks and wore an expression of resolve, as if it were about to single-handedly chip a tunnel through a mountain of stone.

  Both the Grey and Akimbo were lying asleep where the elevators had once stood. Jordan had stabbed both of them with the tranquilizer needles Oliop had stolen.

  “It’s been about eight hours,” Jordan said. “I’m starving, and this place doesn’t seem to have a bathroom.”

  “What did Ceph say?” Jeff asked.

  “If I understood his mixed metaphor, the refugees were coming home in twos and threes. You’d think they’d be a little quicker on their feet in coming back.”

  “Some are helping the sick humans,” Oliop said.

  “Tell that to my bladder.”

  The hairs on Jeff’s arm rose. With a faint hum and a pop, an elevator appeared. Ceph emerged with a bot and another security officer. The detective considered the sleeping Grey.

  “Like a shedding snake returning to his regurgitated vole,” Ceph said.

  Jeff and Jordan looked at each other.

  “Let’s round these creeps up and go,” Jordan said.

  “How’s the city?” Jeff asked.

  “A mess,” Ceph said. “Like…like…” His voice caught in his throat. “It’s a mess.”

  ***

  Jeff returned to the Galactic Commons. Most of the refugees were in the lobby being examined for any Earth germs. Jeff passed through the crowd and read through the security feed Ceph had given him, the information scrolling efficiently enough over a screen piped in though his optic nerve. Once he replaced his tablet he could delete it all. He went outside to check on the city.

  Dozens of other buildings had fallen. Lord Akimbo’s first wave of worms had descended from the storm and scattered. The little machines had then executed their master’s bidding to go forth and destroy. Seven districts had to be cordoned off, with a trench cut around each. The perimeters were guarded by the thinly stretched security forces along with as many hastily repurposed bots as could be pressed into service. Security had been bolstered by volunteers and thousands of newly minted worm-hunting cockroaches. The only saving grace was that the worms didn’t have the concentrated numbers they had during their initial assault on the security building’s district. Some buildings under attack were saved as the cockroaches were sent in. Others hadn’t fallen but were a total loss and would have to be torn down.

  Structural printers were immediately set to the task of repair and reconstruction. The slowly rising frames climbed the exterior of each damaged structure’, ministering to one floor at a time. Long tentacles from the printers cared for the rewiring, replumbing, and patching of the many worm-sized holes. Jeff had never seen so many Galactic Commons citizens out on the street, intent on the work going on around them. Citizens moved with purpose, helping with the logistics of robot crews, traffic management, and hands-on volunteering for the hundreds of tasks set before them.

  Jeff had only been back in the city for an hour when he had to break up his first fight.

  A five-tentacled ovoid with no head was slapping a buxom biped silly. None of the ovoid’s blows delivered much force, but the sheer audacity of the attack had the biped reeling. Jeff got between them. They both began to punch him.

  “Enough!” Jeff shouted. The Galactic Commons had quite a number of citizens better equipped at shrieking and making loud noises, with many hailing from worlds with thick atmospheres, jungles, deaf neighbors, and broad deserts where rising air dispersed weak voices. But something about the way Jeff shouted caused both combatants to freeze in place.

  “Just stop. What is this all about?”

  Neither of the two citizens wanted to speak. Finally the ovoid said, “My customers appreciate a certain tactile quality to the surface of a structure from where they shop.”

  The biped’s skin flushed a plum color. “Your customers are mostly blind. They won’t see or ever touch the outside of the building! A smooth metallic finish with cobalt piping up the side is eye-catching and appealing and would be completely ruined if you texture it with the stucco you’re suggesting.”

  “Wait a minute,” Jeff said. “You guys are arguing over the building’s looks?”

  Both were silent. Finally the biped said, “We’re both on this district’s design committee.”

  “Who else is on this committee?”

  “There are a dozen others, but they haven’t come out from hiding since the storm. We thought we could speed up the process.”

  “Then get them together. You guys probably don’t even have a quorum. Find the rest of the designers and figure it out. Now if you don’t get off the street, I’m going to stun you and take you to a holding cell.”

  The two grumbled and sodded off in different directions. Jeff limped back towards the transportation terminal, glad that no one but him knew that he didn’t have a stunner, a working com, backup, or any holding cell of any kind.

  ***

  An even greater crowd mobbed the terminal. Word got out quickly that the refugees had returned and these were reacquainting themselves with friends, family, fellows from their own species, and debt collectors.

  Jeff saw Kwed was being attended to by two medical bots, who busied themselves
keeping the millipedoid propped upright while both fanned him.

  “You made it home,” Jeff said.

  “A near thing, human. I got us through the perils of your world.”

  “Where’s Toggs?”

  “He hasn’t returned. He’s still busy tending to all of the sick humans. We’ve done all we can, I told him. But he has a strange affinity for the human doctor.”

  “But you’re okay?”

  “I almost fainted at the sight of my beloved city.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing for us that you made it back. There’s work to do.”

  “Yes, of course,” Kwed said.

  He almost fell over when Jeff commandeered both medical bots. They followed him through the crowd towards the elevator platforms.

  “Human, they were tending me,” Kwed called from behind.

  “I’m sure you’ll manage.”

  ***

  Oliop sagged at the control console in front of one of the elevators. When he saw Jeff he perked up a bit, but his drooping ears and half-mast eyes spoke to the technician’s exhaustion.

  “Get some rest,” Jeff said.

  Oliop just shook his head. Five worms moved about on the console. Oliop absentmindedly nudged them with a finger.

  “We can get someone else to watch the elevators.”

  “Not until everyone comes back.”

  “That could be a while longer. I’m going to go back to Earth to check on Toggs and bring him some help.”

  Oliop just nodded. Jeff gave him a pat on the shoulder before ushering the two med bots into the elevator.

  ***

  Jeff saw the second elevator vanish as soon as the door on his opened. Another small group of refugees had gone home. Warm evening air greeted him. He was once again on the abandoned airfield. A Galactic Commons security bot stood waiting. Otherwise he saw no else around. One of the black Suburbans was parked nearby. Inside, Jeff found the keys in the ignition. The med bots climbed into the back.

  It felt strange driving towards the base. Jeff expected a guard to step out and challenge him at any moment, but he saw no activity until he pulled close to the infirmary. Dozens of cots held as many men and women, all out in the open evening air. Bright lights on the corners of the structures shined down on them. Four of the former internees circulated around the cots, wiping down brows with damp cloths and offering sips of water. These also patted hands and readjusted pillows and gave comfort where needed. The incongruity of the nurses’ physical forms in comparison to those of the humans receiving care made Jeff smile.

  He deployed the bots and had them assist those providing care. Then he went inside the infirmary and found Toggs and Doctor Cochran. He smelled coffee. A pot gurgled the end of its brew cycle. Doctor Cochran sat at a work station, entering data on a computer. Her eyes were dark and lined. Her shower cap with the translator unit hung askew.

  Toggs leaned against the wall next to her. He gave Jeff a nod when he entered.

  “You made it, human.”

  “I brought help. There’s two medical bots out there now that will be able to test each person to see if they’re infected and help out in other ways.”

  “Bots?” Doctor Cochran said. “You brought robots from…”

  “The Galactic Commons. They’re a shared city resource there. They know enough about human physiology that they’ll hopefully do more good than harm.”

  “I need to see this. I’ve wanted to examine more of the alien tech first-hand.”

  When she got up, she almost collapsed. Toggs caught her.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “I just need more coffee.”

  Toggs gave Jeff an inquiring look, perhaps wondering if coffee was indeed the solution to a human needing rest. Jeff shook his head. “She needs sleep,” Jeff said. “We all do. But I’m certain we’re on a time limit here before more people higher up the food chain from the Director decide to take matters into their own hands.”

  “There have been more drones,” Toggs said. “I can hear them even now.”

  “They must have seen the second exodus to the elevators. They also have to know that their remaining guests are roaming about unguarded outside of the compound. Maybe they see what’s going on here, but I’d hate to bank on their goodwill. Doctor, how are your patients?”

  Both of the men inside the infirmary were sitting up. They looked drained and feeble but alive.

  “We didn’t lose anyone,” Doctor Cochran said. “The virus only ever had a weak hold on its hosts. The vitamin dose acted as a purgative and flushed their bodies out quite nicely, with the added benefit of nuking the virus so it didn’t survive the process.”

  “Are you sure it’s all dead?” Jeff asked.

  “Of course not. It’s been just the few of us, and we’ve had our hands full with dirty clothes and sheets and keeping these men and women hydrated. I have no idea how much of the virus consists of a viable colony. The notion that a virus can even attain to sentience and mobility is staggering.”

  “You should come see the city sometime. We’ve got all kinds.”

  Doctor Cochran’s face lit up. “I’d like that.”

  ***

  She took Jeff to the back of the infirmary through a curtained partition. The Director lay on a standard hospital bed with straps on his arms and legs and across his torso. His glasses rested on a tray table. He wore a hospital gown. He stared coldly at the doctor and clenched his jaw.

  “How are you feeling?” Doctor Cochran asked.

  “If you’re asking whether I’ve any ill effects after your treating me for the virus, then no, no ill effects.”

  “That’s good. I checked your cultures in the centrifuge, and they look clear so far.”

  “Am I to be confined to this bed much longer?”

  “Hey, it’s your protocol. At least a forty-eight-hour watch for anyone with a possible contamination.”

  He tested one of the straps holding an arm. It held fast. “It appears that commendations are in order. You stopped an outbreak of a contagion of alien origin. We’ll be able to learn from this. I see your star rising, Doctor Cochran.”

  “Go blow smoke up someone else’s ass, Director. I’m going to get you out of bed early. Our people need to be looked after, and you’re the only one who can call it in. And I need to talk to you about something else.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Our visitors are leaving. Their way home has opened up again. What’s next is you wrapping your head around whether you want peaceful contact with them in the future. Mr. Abel here says that there are actual alien civilizations that wouldn’t mind meeting humans and getting to know us better. Don’t ask me why, considering the welcome we’ve given them. You need to figure out how we do that.”

  She undid the straps. The Director sat up on the bed. He gave Jeff an appraising look.

  “You’ve been there, this alien world,” the Director said. “You’ve been communicating with them through the translator.”

  “I have,” Jeff said.

  “Would you submit to some testing? We need to see what they might have done to you. Implants. Brain wave manipulation. Even emotional coercion. You’ve been stolen from your home and your loved ones. That separation and close contact with your abductors could cause a psychological condition where you feel an overwhelming desire to please those that might have harmed you.”

  “Like Stockholm syndrome?” Jeff said. “It didn’t go down like that.” Jeff didn’t mention the part when the Grey had initially snatched him up and had indeed done some harm. But he felt nothing warm and fuzzy for the little creep. “You’re just going to have to take my word for it that I’m fine.”

  “Our opportunity for a first impression is gone,” Doctor Cochran said. “But what we can do is leave them with a good taste in their mouth. Take a look outside. Those are the last of the visitors out there. Those beings volunteered to stay and help our sick. They’re going to be leaving, and I want you to see them off.”

&nbs
p; The Director went to the window, unconcerned with what his gown revealed to those in the room. After a minute he nodded.

  “I have one other request, Director,” Doctor Cochran said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Put some pants on before you go.”

  ***

  Jeff felt relief that the elevator was actually still waiting for them. The Director (once again dressed in a dark suit) and Flat Nose (the Director had called him Agent Humphrey) drove Jeff, the doctor, Toggs, and the four remaining Galactic Commons volunteers to the airfield. Getting the volunteers away from their wards had taken longer than Jeff would have guessed. Several of the soldiers gave their extraterrestrial nurses hugs and kisses before they departed. This required a bit of a cleanup on two of the patients, who were now covered in the goopy mucus secreted by one nurse whose skin glistened with slime when he got emotional.

  The med bots stayed behind.

  “This makes you our ambassador,” the Director said to Jeff.

  “I suppose it does. And as far as I can tell, this is the only place where we can return to until we make some repairs.”

  The Director nodded. “That will make my job easier. That means reports of crop circles, black triangles, and abductions can be dismissed as the usual hysteria or hoax.”

  “You can’t ever be one hundred percent certain. The Bunnie came here the old-fashioned way. Others may, too.”

  Jeff watched the Director for tells, but the man made no indication that he knew anything more about the Bunnie or any of their hidden ships that had brought them to Earth. But the government had at least one Bunnie ship in their possession. Oliop had crashed it in the middle of a small town just north of them.