Alien Earth

by Megan Lindholm

  That was the part that made his guts tighten. When the shuttle had its minor failure and was heading in, he would have to wrangle out of Tug the coordinates for a landing site. Earth Affirmed had assured him that he’d have plenty of time to select his landing site and bring the shuttle in. They’d further assured him that it was well within the capabilities of a Beastship to locate such sites and convey their location to the Arthroplana encysted in her, who would have to, in this emergency, pass on the information to John. There were at least three instances of emergency planet landings being accomplished in exactly such a way. And if Terra were much more hostile than anything they had expected, and landing sites were few? Well, bear in mind, the shuttle they’d supplied him, ostensibly to replace his outdated one, was the best money could buy. Absolutely tight, and resistant to the greatest extremes of temperature, radiation, and toxins. Capable of near vertical set downs and takeoffs, equipped for any emergency he might encounter. And once down, the repairs would be minor, and the shuttle would return him safely to the ship. After John had quietly gathered his samples, of course.

  All so easy, until you were the one who had to do it, and the time for action was ticking away at an agonizingly slow pace.

  He had been staring too long, unspeaking, at the screen. “Well, Tug. Not much to look at. Earth image again please.”

  John leaned back in the lounge and stared at it. He took a breath and willed himself to relax. And tried not to think of reasons to summon Connie to the command chamber.

  Tug couldn’t comprehend John’s fascination with the image of Earth, but was grateful for it. It seemed to finally occupy him, and let Tug put his attentions elsewhere. Connie was sleeping. Raef was in Waitsleep. Tug’s back plates hackled briefly as he felt the pulse and respiration levels for Raef; he was in too deep again, his body functions almost totally dependent on Evangeline. Even more disturbing was that once again, Evangeline had failed to notify him of the condition. He compared her recent behavior to the norms for Beasts. Nominally, she was still within tolerances. Her violations of his control, while not minor, were within normal parameters. An enBeasted Arthroplana would agree. If he complained, he’d probably be chided for being so initially lax and letting her reach a point where she even considered such defiance. And Beasts, though not very intelligent, were individuals. Any other Arthroplana would have rebuked Tug for not giving her more attention, amusing her, rewarding her quickly, and punishing her swiftly as was needed. Beasts were products of their training. But Tug could not suppress his uneasiness. Her infractions were not many, but given Evangeline’s usual tractability, they made a disturbing pattern. She no longer felt an overwhelming drive to please him.

  It made no sense.

  Tug positioned himself to engage ganglia with her, prodded her. Her response was unmistakably slow. He engaged with her, communicated sharply.

  “Evangeline?”

  What did he want?

  Tug tried to classify her response. Definitely outside the norms for a Beast. It was almost impatient, nearly irritable. After her last punishment, she might be sulking, but he had expected her to become very docile and eager to please. He quelled his uneasiness, refused to let it bleed over to her.

  He instructed her that Raef’s pulse and respiration levels were unacceptably low, the contrast between the dormancy of his body and the activity of his brain too great. She was aware that this was not good for Raef. Had she ceased to care about what was best for all of them?

  Raef was fine. She was very aware of his body and mind levels; he was fine. Was there anything else Tug wanted?

  Reflex made Tug extend a nematocyst. Bring her back under control, now. Something that might have been caution, or even curiosity, made him withdraw it. The last punishment had not had the expected reaction. And it had been mild compared to what he was tempted to inflict on her now. If he jolted her as hard as she deserved, her response would be cataclysmic. Young Beasts in their training were jolted, to teach them discipline. Not older ones like Evangeline. He wasn’t sure how she would react, whether she would hold orbit, or leap totally out of control. And two of the Humans were fully conscious; no predicting how her reaction would affect them. Discretion, he cautioned himself. Don’t push her into further rebellion; find the source of her discontent. Find out what she wanted, and use her desire to get what he wanted. That was how one controlled a mature Beast.

  He forced calmness into his thoughts. Yes, Raef’s condition was Tug’s main concern. But he had thought that after that was resolved, he and Evangeline might play a game together. Would she care for that?

  ….….

  Had she understood him? Would Evangeline care for sharing a game or entertainment?

  A game? Now? A game? She thought perhaps later. Not just now, no, not now. Perhaps later. Perhaps.

  And she was gone. Her ganglia still docked with his, but her attention was gone. And he realized that all through their communication, her attention had been unfocused, her replies hazy within his mind. As if she had not been hearing him at all.

  He forced himself to calmness, sought the guidelines for such a situation. Found none. All of his training had supposed that one’s Beast was always in complete communication with one. Nothing was more important to a Beast than the voice of the Master. Nothing had prepared him for her unresponsiveness.

  Could there be a physical cause? He made a careful examination of docking receptors, ganglia, receptor surfaces. All appeared normal. But the second he released her, she retracted. Without regrets. And everyone knew Beasts never did that; they were always reluctant to leave communion with a Master, always sought companionship, hated being ignored. Usually, an Arthroplana had to give a Beast some sort of entertainment exercise to keep it happy during the times they were not completely engaged. Not even the company of other Beasts, not even a controlled mating, could compete with the attention of a Master. And there were no Beasts within light-years of Earth, hadn’t been for ages. The last wild ones had been harvested from this region thousands of years ago.

  Tug had undergone years of training before being allowed to encyst. It didn’t seem possible he had no referents for such a situation, but he could bring nothing to mind. Whatever he was facing, no Arthroplana had ever encountered it before. He revised his thought. No Arthroplana had ever survived it long enough to contribute the information to the Beast encystment center. He’d have to rely on himself to solve this problem. There was no one else to help him.

  Unless John or Connie could help? He quickly dismissed the idea. Humans knew nothing of Beasts. But there were three Humans involved in this with him. Three Humans whose lives were at stake; and two were lives he would have to answer for if he bungled this.

  Should he inform them?

  Of what? He had nothing to tell them yet. All he’d be able to say was that Evangeline wasn’t being as cooperative as usual. He couldn’t offer them any reasons or solutions. No, it would only alarm them. Better to let them continue their normal routines than to risk making them feel helplessly threatened. Besides, the bleedover of their emotions could only infect Evangeline and make her more difficult to manage.

  “Tug?”

  John’s voice, the excitement notes in it ringing even in translation.

  “Yes?”

  “My readings indicate that one of our orbiters has gone bad. Can you confirm that?”

  For a blessed moment, Raef was alone. Dreaming of nothing, thinking of nothing, explaining nothing. He felt like a helium balloon suddenly released, drifting, free. He had not known how strenuously he’d been dreaming until the demand for a focused image and sensory information was suddenly gone and his dreams splintered into unrelated images. He drifted gratefully toward true sleep.

  [Raef?]

  Not again. His head throbbed, but he already knew there was no escaping her. “Yes, Mother.”

  [Would you like another cookie?]

  “No, thank you. I’m a little tired of cookies.”

  [Pretens
e a new thing for us, then.]

  “I’m a little tired of pretense, Mother.” God, there was the understatement of the age. He groped for a way to fend her off, to grant himself a little rest. It came to mind suddenly, an old trick he’d used on her long before, when he was just a kid. To stop her questions about school, just ask her a question about her day. “Where did you go, just then?”

  [When?]

  “When you were gone from our pretense.”

  [Our pretense.]

  It took some time for her to absorb that idea, for some reason. Whatever it was, Raef was grateful to it. He started to let his thoughts slide.

  [Tug wished to entertain me. He says our pretense is not beneficial to you, and wished to entertain me.]

  Raef felt a sickening gut-flop. All his little nagging suspicions were coming together. “Mother, what does Tug call you?”

  [Evangeline, now. Before it was another name that I cannot make in your thoughts. It suggested images of prickly things.]

  “Does he talk to you like I do?”

  [Tug talks to me. Tug does not give me smells and tastes and feels. Tug gives me words, simple words only. Tugs tells me what to do to be good. You tell me what to do to be loved.]

  What in hell had he done, dreaming aloud to her all these years? What had he created, and how did he undo it?

  “Uh, Evangeline, maybe you should let Tug entertain you for a while.”

  [Mother.]

  Shit. “Mother, maybe Tug misses you. Perhaps you should let him entertain you for a while. Maybe he’s lonely.”

  [No. Tug is quite busy. The satellite has failed. John must go out in the shuttle to fix it. Connie wishes to go, too. They are arguing. Tug is very focused on them. He finds them much more interesting than me.]

  Satellite? Shuttle? Something was going wrong aboard the ship, and he was still in Waitsleep? The ship was in danger and he was … he was talking to the damn ship, telling her stories, stuffing her full of chocolate-chip cookies. Or could that be what was causing the problems? Raef struggled to come closer to wakefulness, felt himself held firmly down.

  [Do not go away. I cannot hear you when you go up to Tug. Let us pretense some more.]

  “Let’s make a deal, Evangel … Mother.”

  [Deal?]

  She didn’t have the concept. It was creepy, how close they were, how much he could tell from her thoughts now. Was this telepathy, like in all the comic books? He supposed so. “A deal is when I do something good for you, something to please you so you do something good for me, something to please me. Okay?”

  [Tug does this. But he does not ask. Tug tells me to go to a certain place. As long as we are going there, he gives me entertainments. I did not know one could ask to make a deal. Tug never told me I could be asked. Tug just makes his part of the deal so I have to do mine. This is so?]

  He didn’t want to touch that question. “This can be our deal, Mother. I have told you many stories, and made pretenses for you. This was a good thing I did, that pleased you?”

  [Yes. You have been like me, doing the good first.]

  “So will you do a good for me now, to please me?”

  Long pause.

  [I have no goods to do you. I have no stories except the ones you told me, no pretenses but the ones you have given me…. I can show you a game. Tic-tac-toe. There are only X’s in my game, and all is always harmonious. One cannot lose.]

  “Sounds thrilling. But I do not choose that right now. You do have a good that you can do me, a story you can tell me, that would please me very much. Mother, tell me all about the satellite and the shuttle and the crew. Would you do that?”

  [This is of little interest to me.]

  “This is of great interest to me, and would please me. And after you tell me these things, I’ll do something for you.”

  [Another good?]

  “Another pretense.”

  [There can be more than one pretense for me?]

  “Sure. As many as you want.” Sudden inspiration struck Raef. “You don’t even have to be Mother all the time. You can be anyone you like.”

  [I like being Mother.]

  “Okay. Sure, I like you being Mother, too. Okay, but, uh, you know, there’s a lot more than just chocolate-chip cookies and milk. There’s gingerbread, and spaghetti, and, oh, chocolate cake with whipped cream, and …” Raef felt her ten-drilling after the fleeting sensory tastes he’d fed her. Gotcha. “After you tell me about the satellite and shuttle and all. Is it a deal?”

  [A deal is good exchanged for good. It is a deal.]

  “So. What’s with the satellite and the shuttle and all?”

  [The satellite is one of the camera-carrying ones we put into orbit to gather information. Its camera has ceased operating. It may be a dysfunction in the orientation sensor. Connie and John have gone out in the shuttle to repair it.]

  “Equipment malfunction, huh?”

  [No. This is not a malfunction. The camera has ceased to operate as John knew that it would. They have left in the shuttle as he planned.]

  “I don’t understand, Evangeline.”

  [Mother.]

  “Mother, I don’t understand.”

  [Do you wish me to repeat in different words?]

  “No. I do not understand why John would wish the camera to cease functioning. You are sure he was expecting this?”

  [He does not dream as well as you. His dreams are thin, and change often, and sometimes are only images. But this dream he has had often.]

  “Sometimes Humans dream of what they fear, Evan … Mother. Sometimes we dream of what we hope will not happen, what we fear. I think perhaps John feared the camera malfunction.”

  [No. Pulse, respiration, and chemicals secreted in the excretions of his skin suggest pleasure and excitement. Not fear. John planned this with his associates. It was a deal, such as you have shown me. Good for good.]

  Raef felt like he was suffocating. Almost, he could sense Evangeline feeding him more oxygen, calming him, steadying his heartbeat. This damn John was sabotaging the ship. What the hell were his intentions, and why? He tried to find the best way to phrase his next question, instead found himself wishing he could just go back into deep dreaming. For himself. He recalled all the times he had fantasized that Evangeline was his ship, that he was secretly her captain, not just some fucking stowaway that Tug chanced to find amusing. So here it was, finally, the big day he had imagined so often, the time when he would be needed and he would stride forth and save the day, and they would all have to admit he was just as good as any of them, and they’d have to let him land. Here was the day, and he was going to go back to sleep? No. But he had to ask the right questions, if he was going to find out what was really going on.

  “Mother. What does John expect to happen next?”

  [John is piloting the shuttle. In 93.29 minutes he will pace the satellite. Connie will operate the arm to bring it within the repair bay. Then they will dress in the protective suits and they will go out and repair the unit. Then they will restore it to orbit.]

  “John wanted the satellite to fail, so he could repair the unit and replace it in orbit? Will the satellite work?”

  [This is an event that has not passed yet. I cannot know.]

  Wrong question. Try again, carefully. Time might be important. “Does John expect the satellite to work?”

  [Yes. John expects the satellite to function after repairs.]

  “What does John expect to do after that?”

  [He and Connie will return to the shuttle command chamber. They will remove their suits. They will call Tug and tell him they are returning. They will start to come back. Then the shuttle will cease to function normally. John will call to tell Tug they cannot return. Then the shuttle will go instead to the planet it orbits.]

  “Then what will happen?”

  [This event has not …]

  “What does John expect to happen then?”

  [His dream goes no further than this.]

  “Mother
, what planet do we orbit?”

  [Your homeworld. Earth, Terra.]

  A strange thrill shot through Raef. How many hundreds of years had passed since he had been this close to home? And what did John intend down there? He had to know.

  “Mother, bring me out of Waitsleep.”

  Nothing. No response. But Raef knew what it meant. She had not yet learned how to refuse, but she was puzzling it out.

  “Mother?”

  [I am here.]

  “I’d like to wake up. I think perhaps there are important things for me to do.”

  Pause.

  [No. There is nothing you can do. Nothing you can do would affect the events on the shuttle. And we have to finish our deal. I have told you what is happening on the satellite and the shuttle. That was the good you wished for. Now you must give me the gingerbread and spaghetti and chocolate cake with whipped cream. That is the good I wished for.]

  Raef wanted to scream. He longed to lash out at the womb walls, wanted to rip his way out of there. Damn. His only chance to be a hero, and he would sleep through it, dreaming cookies for a spaceship. Wouldn’t his life ever be fair?

  No. It wouldn’t be. So think, dammit. Deal. Deal with her. Hook her on this deal, and then up the ante. It would work. It had to work, because it was the only card he had.

  So play it to the hilt.

  He brought back the kitchen, the red-checked cloth, the empty milk carton, the few crumbs of cookie left in the jar. He looked up at his mom. “Oh, oh, Mom. Looks like we ate them all. And you know how Dad loves fresh cookies when he gets back from a long run. What are we going to do?”