“It takes one to know one,” Guido quipped.
“Look, it’s getting closer,” I pointed out.
Indeed it was. A moment later, it clipped the top of the dome, stumbled, and righted itself. We were treated to the oddly humorous sight of a four-winged, blue-gray, red-beaked bird waddling on air eight meters above us, tilting its head from side to side and looking perplexed.
“Well, that proves the dome is invisible from the outside as well, unlike the one on P5M2.” Sparks commented. “I would guess that’s to preserve the local wildlife habitat, so as not to be a distraction—although it appears to be a bit of a traffic hazard from time to time.”
Guido asked, “Why do you suppose the hubs are on treetops and deserted islands?”
“Who knows?” Sparks replied. “Maybe they have to be in specific locations and at specific altitudes. Or maybe they’re a kind of tourist attraction. ‘Hey, be sure not to miss the hub on Brophyg-6. I hear it’s inside an active volcano!’” That was good for a laugh from the rest of us.
The furbird, as we began calling it, eyed us intently as it paced around on the roof of the dome. We stared back at it and Guido waved his right arm slowly. The bird’s head tracked his movements.
Guido walked across the dome and the bird waddled after him overhead. It was quite amusing to watch them moving in tandem. “I wonder if we look as funny to him—walking on air—as he does to us?”
Cap interrupted our fun to remind us, once again, that we were on a mission—to meet the Creators. “Don’t forget to seal your faceplates. We don’t know there’s a breathable atmosphere on the other side of the portal.” We all did as he suggested.
“Computer,” Tom ordered, “show us the portal to the Creators’ world.” The purple portal on our left lit up. Tom, whose turn it was to lead the way, stepped through. I was the last to go, so I waved goodbye to our friend the furbird. He merely cocked his head to one side and watched as I, too, disappeared from view.
* * * *
When I emerged, I nearly collided with Cap. He stood immediately in front of the portal. I started to tease him about hogging the road, when I realized that everyone was standing as if frozen, staring off into the distance. I turned to see what they were looking at, and then I too was overcome with surprise. Stretching before us was a vast crimson field of poppies. Beyond them, atop a grassy hill, was an enormous glittering emerald castle. I looked down at my feet and found that we were standing on…a yellow brick road.
“What. The. Hell?” For once, Sparks was left without a clever quip.
We looked around us, but there was nothing else within sight but poppies. The road began at the portal, spiraled once around the small terminal, and headed in the direction of the castle.
“It doesn’t look like we have much of a choice, does it?” Sparks said. “I guess we’re off to see the wiz—”
“Don’t start!” Cap scolded.
“Here we go again.” Guido looked sideways at Sparks in disgust.
“Any guesses why the Creators’ home world looks like a set from the movie?” Guido asked. “Obviously this can’t be Oz and Emerald City. So what gives?”
“It has to be either an illusion or mass hallucination,” Tom offered. “But why? And who would be doing it?”
Cap jumped in. “It would have to be someone familiar with Earth’s culture. But how would they know we were coming? Surely the place doesn’t always look like this.”
“If they knew we were coming, what do you suppose they’ll do now that we’re here?” Guido looked around wild-eyed.
“Relax, Guido.” Cap suggested. “If whoever it was wanted us dead, why would they create such a peaceful scene? Why not just vaporize us as soon as we stepped through the gate?”
“I don’t know,” Guido replied. “Maybe to lull us into a false sense of security?” His voice had an edge to it.
“Again, why go to that much trouble? Surely anyone who could create this place, real or not, wouldn’t be worried about us. We’re not even armed.”
Guido shrugged. “Maybe they don’t know that. Either way, I don’t like it.”
“I don’t see how it could be a hallucination,” Sparks said. “We’re wearing our suits and breathing suit air. How could we all be affected?”
“Beats me,” Tom said. “Some sort of mind control?” He shrugged. “Do you have any better ideas?”
“Not really,” Sparks conceded. “But a fabricated illusion makes more sense to me than hallucination.”
“There’s one way to find out which it is,” Cap began. He walked to the nearest “flowers,” bent and plucked one. He tugged on a petal and it came off in his hand, just as a real petal would. It even seemed to have dew on it. He crumpled the delicate petal between his gloved fingers. “Well, it seems real enough. It isn’t smoke and mirrors.”
“Assuming we aren’t all dreaming this,” Guido countered.
Cap shrugged. “I don’t know how to disprove that notion. Either we’re awake and alert or we’re not. If our minds are under alien control how would we know? Unless you have a way of telling the difference, I have to assume that we’re really standing here and seeing what we think we’re seeing.”
It was Guido’s turn to shrug.
“Maybe it is real,” Sparks suggested.
“What do you mean?” Cap replied.
“All those reports of flying saucers, little green men, and so on. What if even a few of those reports are true and the aliens collected specimens of plants and animals and brought them back to their planets? There may very well be Earth flowers all over the galaxy.”
Cap thought for a moment. “That seems unlikely, but I suppose it makes as much sense as anything else we’ve come up with. Right, then. We’ll proceed as if this is all real, whether natural or fabricated for our benefit, until we find out otherwise. How is the air here, Sparks?”
“According to the sensors, it’s breathable. I can’t detect anything toxic, but if the inhabitants are capable of creating all this, they can probably fool my sensors too. I can’t be sure of anything the sensors say.”
Cap frowned. “That’s a disturbing thought, but I guess you’re right. We should be skeptical of everything we see and hear. We’ll stay on suit air for now; we still have nearly five hours of it left. If we can’t establish soon that the air is breathable, we’ll have to head back within the next couple of hours. Before we head down this path so conveniently laid before us, let’s take a look around to make sure we haven’t overlooked anything important.”
We investigated the immediate area. Unlike the other terminals, there didn’t appear to be a dome or wall surrounding the portal. There was only an invisible dais behind us containing the portal, which the computer made visible at Sparks’ command. We were exposed to the planet as soon as we arrived. Other than the dais, there was nothing there but the yellow brick road and the poppies.
“Not much of a terminal,” Guido said, “considering that this is supposed to be the home world of the Creators.”
Cap nodded. “True. Oh well. I guess, as Sparks said, we don’t have any other choice—unless we want to go back.” We all shook our heads, no. “Right, then—let’s go. But look sharp. There’s no telling who else, or what else, is here besides us.”
We began walking toward “Emerald City.” After a few minutes, I noticed that Sparks kept glancing up and surveying the sky. “What are you looking for?” I asked.
With a slight quirk to his lips he replied, “Flying monkeys.”
I took the only appropriate action under the circumstances. I hit him. Hard.
An hour later we were past the poppies and nearing Emerald City. Grass covered either side of the road as we walked up the hill to the gates of the castle. Surrounding the entrance were shrubs that could have come straight from any garden on Earth: climbing ivy and jasmine, rhododendrons, and hedges that I recognized but couldn’t put a name to.
We walked right up to the gate. It was a massive affair, at l
east five meters high and four in width. It appeared to be made of solid oak with iron hinges and braces. I looked up at glittering emerald spires that rose more than a hundred meters above us. I still wasn’t sure this was real; but if not, I sure couldn’t tell the difference.
“Now what?” Tom asked.
Cap shrugged. “I guess we knock,”
Tom took a deep breath and pounded on the door—BAM-BAM-BAM! “Sounds real. Feels real.”
A small, circular wooden porthole swung open at chest height, just large enough for a child-sized head to poke through. Not at all what I was expecting. Was this one of the Creators? If so, he/she/it wasn’t exactly impressive.
The head spoke gruffly, in a high-pitched voice. “What’s all the racket about? What do you want?” Like the castle, its skin and hair were bright green. It had a slender face and delicately pointed ears. It looked vaguely like an elf from mythology. Or the little green men Sparks mentioned.
“At least that’s different from the movie,” Sparks said softly, out of the side of his mouth.
“Is it real, or an illusion, do you suppose?” Guido whispered. I shrugged and shook my head.
One might think that we would show more surprise or excitement at finally meeting a nonterrestrial sentient life form. It should have been a momentous occasion. Instead, we were at least half convinced that this was all an elaborate hoax or a figment of our imaginations. That, plus the fact that we came here hoping to locate the people who created the portal network—people who must surely be awe-inspiring—left us feeling a bit let down at finding only this diminutive elf.
“You speak Universal?” Guido blurted out.
“Of course! Do you think me uneducated?”
Those of us from Earth exchanged blank looks.
“Are-are you real?” was Guido’s next tentative attempt.
“Obviously! I’ll ask again, what do you want?” Elf 2, Guido 0.
“Er, um, can we come in?” I inquired.
“Er, um, no,” the elf replied, and slammed the porthole. I blinked, and then again. Make that Elf 3, Humans 0. I was at a loss for what to do next.
“That went well,” Sparks teased. I wanted to wipe the smirk off his face.
“At the risk of repeating myself,” Tom said, and then did so anyway, “now what?”
“Well, we can’t stand out here forever,” Cap reminded us, “and there doesn’t seem to be anywhere else to go.”
“Unless you think we can force this gate open with our bare hands,” Guido said, “I suggest we try to persuade the gatekeeper to let us in.”
Cap pounded on the door and once again the porthole opened.
The elf frowned at us. “Why are you still here?”
“We need to get in,” Cap said firmly.
“Why?”
No one had a good answer for that. After a moment, the elf pulled his head back and began to close the porthole.
“Wait!” Sparks shouted. “We’re here to see the Wizard.”
“Wizard?” I repeated. I was ready to hit him again. “Sparks!”
“Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place?” the elf responded. Tom and I looked at one another in confusion. “Come on in.” The elf’s head disappeared and the porthole slammed shut. Just as I started to think that we’d been snubbed again, the huge gate ponderously swung in with a prolonged creak. We paused for a moment in indecision.
“Don’t just stand there,” the elf beckoned. “Come in, come in. I can’t wait all day for you!”
We did as he requested and the gate shut behind us with a resounding BOOM!
“We didn’t just walk into a devious trap, did we?” Guido questioned softly. The elf scampered on ahead, waving for us to follow.
Cap shrugged. “In for a penny, in for a euro, as my mum used to say. Stay alert.”
CHAPTER 17
We followed the elf, who was no more than 1.3 meters tall, to a great hall hung with tapestries and the trappings of heraldry. There was an ornate, if overstated, gold and emerald-encrusted throne sitting upon a dais in the center of the hall.
“Wait here,” the elf ordered.
“Wait a minute,” Tom said. “What’s your name?”
“My name?” The creature repeated the words with a frown, as if pondering a difficult question. “You can call me Gatekeeper.” With that, he was off, quickly disappearing through a door concealed behind a rich green and gold brocade wall-hanging.
“That was odd,” Guido said softly.
“This whole place is odd!” Cap retorted.
“WHO DARES COME BEFORE ME?” a thunderous voice demanded.
I jumped. We looked all around the hall, but saw no one.
Then a look of determination came over Sparks’ face. “That’s enough of this nonsense, damn it!”
He strode over to the tapestry that the Gatekeeper had just disappeared through. Whipping it aside, Sparks reached in and pulled the elf out by the scruff of his neck.
“I’ve seen this movie! Now what’s going on here?” Sparks demanded, as he shook Gatekeeper.
“Don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me!” the elf pleaded. He looked younger and more vulnerable than ever. “I’ll tell you.”
“First, you can dispense with the illusion,” Cap said.
“Very well,” Gatekeeper conceded with a sigh. His voice lost all trace of fear. “As you wish. Computer, reset environment.”
With that, the impressive emerald castle disappeared. It was replaced with a rather drab gray room—square and devoid of furniture. Through a circular window we saw low hills in the distance and a patch of sky. Everything had a gray cast to it, even the light entering the window. Only the appearance of Gatekeeper hadn’t changed.
“All right,” Sparks demanded. “Who are you, and what’s going on? Is this some sort of trap?”
The elf blinked. “A trap?” It repeated the word as if it were unfamiliar. “Dear me, why would I want to do that?”
“Then why the elaborate deception?” Guido added.
Gatekeeper sighed again and said, “This will take a while. You may as well sit.”
We looked around us, but there wasn’t a stick of furniture to be seen—then, between one blink of the eye and the next, there were stuffed chairs behind each of us. Except for Gatekeeper, we all jumped.
“More illusion?” Cap asked gruffly. He ran his fingers along the brown tweedy fabric of his chair’s right arm.
“They are quite real—and comfortable. Please, be seated.” Gatekeeper sat in his human-scale chair. (Somehow, I couldn’t help thinking of Gatekeeper as anything but male.) His dangling feet emphasized his childlike appearance. It was hard to imagine him as dangerous, but maybe that was part of the illusion. The rest of us followed his lead.
“Please, feel free to open your faceplates. The air here is perfectly breathable by your species.”
“If you don’t mind,” Cap said coldly, “I think we’ll keep them closed for now.”
“As you wish,” the elf replied. He didn’t seem disappointed by our refusal—as I would have expected if he was trying to kill us.
“First,” Tom interjected, “what’s your real name. It can’t be Gatekeeper.”
“Gatekeeper is a reasonable approximation of my duties here. I am the keeper of what you call the portal you came through. My real name is Drelxrsng’qqernslidtrn’lseirnhsdmte-dwwwxr.” It came out sounding like a buzz saw. “It is a common name among my people—in fact, I am the 123rd in my line—but you may call me Drelx. Your vocal cords should be capable of reproducing that. And you, I believe, are Cap, Swede, Tom, Sparks and Guido.”
We humans exchanged surprised looks. How could he know that?
“All right, Drelx,” Cap said with concern painted on his face, “maybe you can explain—in terms our brains can handle—what all of this,” arms gesturing to include everything, “is about. And why you and the portal equipment understand Universal.”
“And who ‘your people’ are,” Guido chipped
in, “and why there isn’t anyone but us using the portal hubs.”
“And why some portals are on unpopulated moons,” I added.
Drelx’s jade green, pointy-eared head swiveled back and forth as each of us interrupted with our questions. It made Drelx look absurdly like some sort of animated children’s toy.
“Give the man a chance to speak!” Cap scolded. “At least…I’m assuming you’re a man.” The latter was addressed to Drelx.
“Our biology differs considerably from yours. In the respect to which you are referring, however, yes, I would be considered male.”
“So, what is this place—this planet?” Sparks asked. “It looks dead.”
“It is dead,” Drelx replied, “which is why I amuse myself with fantasies when I am here, such as the illusion you experienced when you arrived. As for this planet, called Stripi, you were correct. It is the home world of the Progenitors, those whom you called the Creators—the beings who originated the network of portals you have been exploring since yesterday.”
“So they…” I began. “Wait a minute! How did you know we call them the Creators? I don’t believe we’ve mentioned them since we arrived.” I looked at the rest of the crew for support. They all shook their heads no to signify agreement—we hadn’t discussed the Creators. “And how do you know how long we’ve been exploring the network, or our names? We didn’t tell you that, either. Are you telepathic?”
I asked this with a degree of apprehension. The idea of dealing with a being who could read my thoughts was disquieting, to say the least. If he could rummage around in my brain, there was no telling what mischief he could cause. What if subterfuge should be necessary at some point? How could we lie to a telepath?
“You needn’t be nervous,” Drelx said with a small smile. Was he mocking me? “No, I am not telepathic, merely curious. If you will let me start at the beginning, I can answer all of your questions.”
“Go ahead,” Cap prompted.
“More than two billion of your years ago, the race of beings who inhabited this planet developed self-awareness and the intelligence to question their surroundings, just as your people once did. In time, they developed space flight and began exploring their star system. The discovery of what you call tesserene—and, yes, I will get to how I know that—opened the stars to exploration. Over the course of millions of years, their empire grew to span more than a quarter of the galaxy, using tesserene-powered starships. The younger races they encountered were embraced as friends and treated as equals. For thousands of generations, there was little discord in the galaxy, because the Progenitors acted as the guardians of the younger races, not permitting aggression against them by others.
The Imperative Chronicles, Books One and Two: The Mars Imperative & The Tesserene Imperative Page 51
