The table toppled over, flinging the glass chimnied lamp to the floor. As it shattered, a wash of kerosene and shards splashed across the rugs. The rugs instantly ignited and, in a blinding flash, a shower of flames cast about the room. The antique furnishings quickly caught fire. Despite the burgeoning inferno flaring all around, the Reverend remained defiantly transfixed upon the unholy, living shadow, the hapless victim of an enlivened gorgon.
His eyes widened with confused curiosity as the amorphous manifestation began to dissolve into wispy rivulets of browns and grays like tendrils of dark smoke that twisted and curled in upon themselves. These were extended toward him, beckoningly him come nearer. Only in those final moments before he bucked and ran screaming from the burning house into the starless night, did the holy man realize the truth of what he saw. Only then was he able to give name to the thing bent on the utter destruction of all who dared defy it. Well he knew its name and repeated it endlessly as hellish damnation overtook him.
A low hum breached the numbness of his senses, a nerve-shattering shrill sound that amplified a thousand times until the sound of a thousand tiny, buzzing horrors swarmed through his head. His screams could not prevent the groping of what felt like countless miniature limbs pawing at every exposed patch of his skin, their biting mouths ruthlessly attaching themselves to his face and hands. Still, he ran, unable to stop himself even when the filthy things flocked into his open mouth, drowning his final, helpless shrieks. More of the unseen tormentors tore at his eyes, scratching and digging their hideously alien bodies beneath his eyelids. Once inside, they chewed through the soft tissues, that they might fester within their victim’s brain.
The flailing madman’s gait began to slow once he had cleared the yard and burst into the fields beyond. In the end, the pathetic parson found some slight sanctuary in recitation of the jumbled confusion of prayers that swirled though the last vestiges of his fevered mind.
The following Sunday found the normally quiet rural community abuzz with the news of the awful tragedy that had struck the Walraven farm. Everyone for miles around had witnessed the brilliant illumination caused by the burning of the ancient farmhouse. Word that their children’s high school teacher had gone berserk and murdered both his hired hand and Sheriff McKinny before attacking the community’s beloved spiritual leader had shocked everyone. It was universally agreed that in being consumed in the subsequent conflagration, Walraven had met with divine justice in its most blatant form. No one would have believed such events possible had the details come from anyone other than Reverend Peterson himself, the only survivor.
Three days had passed and now, with the exception of those who were bedridden with an unusually harsh flu-like illness, the entire community had turned out for Sunday morning services at Peterson’s church. They had heard that Peterson had emerged from it all without so much as a scratch, but folks wanted to see for themselves as well as show their support for the minister. With any luck, some hoped, his sermon might provide further details of Walraven’s madness as an adjunct to the overall sermon which, according to the placard displayed on the sign outside, was peculiarly entitled, “The Lord of the Flies, He Dwelleth Within.”
Self-Correcting
Mechanism
“Nature, having averted Her eyes for but an instant, stared aghast at the result of Her carelessness. For in that brief moment the means of Her undoing had come into existence.”
- unidentified Cathdenian philosopher
Deep within the Daleth-Vau star system, a gaudily-designed, globular metallic craft maintained its age-long silent sentry, unperturbed by the small Earthcraft presently keeping pace with it. The orbits of both ships lay far above a green-marbled world dubbed “Cathdeny” by its discoverer Clark Cathdeny, the Earthly astronomer who had charted the quadrants of the Daleth-Vau system using data transmitted back to Earth by an unmanned explorercraft. The data provided Cathdeny enough data to prove the “moon” orbiting the fourth planet was actually of artificial manufacture, undeniably the product of a highly-skilled, ultrahuman intelligence.
Within three months, the starship Perception, the smaller of the two vessels currently in orbit around Dr. Cathdeny’s mysterious little planet, had been dispatched as Earth’s ambassador to the newly discovered planet and the intelligent beings assumed to dwell there.
Chills flared through Captain Darius Khatami’s lean form as he stared at arabesques adorning the surface of the artificial globe now limned against the blackness of space on the monitor in his cabin. Professor Galen Niles, standing next to him, noted the sudden shiver, then moved behind to wrap his arms protectively around the handsome Persian captain. “It’s scary, isn’t it?” he whispered directly into Khatami’s ear as he felt his encircling limbs being caressed.
“More than I ever imagined. More than any of us could ever have imagined,” replied Khatami. “I’ve dreamed of meeting another intelligent species all my life, and now it’s about to happen — right here, and I’m in charge of the whole show. They say you should be careful what you wish for ….” He slowly closed his eyes and leaned back, resting his head upon Niles’ chest. “I’m scared to death, though I hope you’re the only one who knows it. Captains have to be fearless and in control at all times.”
Although no known form of weaponry had been detected aboard the alien device, Khatami still worried that there had been no response to endless attempts at establishing radio contact with the satellite and its creators on the planet below. By all rights, the airwaves around the planet should be flooded with a cacophony of radio and television transmissions, short wave signals, and broadcasts of a thriving civilization. Yet nothing but silence came from beneath the thick cloud that blanketed the planet’s surface. Radar maps of the landscape revealed thousands of metropolitan areas littering the planet’s three huge continents, yet the ship’s most sensitive equipment failed to register the slightest indication of the signal concentrations of energy that denote advanced technology. Were the aliens “playing ‘possum” or were their ways beyond human understanding? Beings capable of placing an artificial satellite in orbit would certainly notice an unfamiliar craft invading their territory. Why didn’t they communicate? He knew any unidentified craft approaching the Earth risked being blasted into oblivion by a net of autolasers, but Earth was very far away from this place, beyond even radio contact.
Aware of his lover’s turmoil, Niles said, “If you weren’t afraid, you’d have no business captaining this mission. It just shows you’re human. You are a great captain!” He paused a moment, then added slyly, “And behind every great man stands … another. Isn’t that how the saying goes?”
Khatami chuckled, disengaged himself from Niles’ gentle embrace, and twisted around to face his youthful companion. Raising both arms stiffly, he brought them to rest on Niles’ shoulders with a smile. “Yes, I’m sure that’s how it goes.”
Great or not, Khatami still sometimes felt an urge to offer a silent prayer to Allah, a god he had abandoned years before, when he realized he could never reconcile his religious needs with his homosexuality. For years, he had repressed both of those inner needs, refusing to allow either control over his life. The battle had ended, however, the day he met Niles, a self-confident linguistics student who had surprised him with more than a fluency in Farsi. The ensuing relationship had brought an end to his frustration and attendant bouts of depression. Niles gave him the courage to recognize that his needs were natural, despite the opinion of the majority.
With time, Khatami had begun to realize he was “as normal as anyone else, only with better taste,” as Niles put it. Khatami’s family had disowned him when he had introduced them to his “lover,” and friends had fallen by the wayside — but for the first time in his life, Khatami understood the meaning of self respect.
The vast majority of the military big brass consisted of heterosexuals who expressed their “open and unbiased attitude” by ridiculing homosexuals in private. Nonetheless, his career had progressed
well, albeit slowly, based strictly on his merit in spite of the preference shown to more conventional officers. When he heard of his appointment to command the Perception for this most special of missions, his own incredulity far surpassed everyone else’s.
He had been chosen from five candidates considered for the post by General Mark Anderson, a man who had been Khatami’s roommate for four years during college. They had developed a strong bond of mutual respect and platonic affection that had endured throughout the years.
Anderson had flown all the way from Lunar Headquarters to discuss the appointment with Khatami on Mars Base. The General made it clear that their friendship had in no way influenced the decision; of the five candidates, only Khatami possessed the intuitive insight and sensitivity required for such a delicate situation.
Once Khatami had accepted the appointment, Anderson admitted he had recommended Niles be chosen to fill the position of linguist for the mission’s science team; that, he confessed, had been a personal favor to his old college friend. Niles had accepted the assignment with his usual aplomb.
Khatami wished his own self-confidence matched Anderson’s faith in him. The future of the human race might well lie in his hands, and every homosexual on the planet expected him to prove sexual preference has nothing to do with one’s ability to perform well in a position of responsibility. He was constantly aware of that dual responsibility.
Niles roused him from his rumination.
“I should mention that by stonewalling those who voted to break into the alien satellite, you won the respect of every scientist on board, not that they’d admit it to your face. Now they see you as some kind of champion to their cause.”
Niles’ words brought a flood of remembered images to Khatami. It had been the first crisis of the mission, and he had vetoed his advisors’ insistent demand that the alien satellite be “secured” as it posed a potential threat. Khatami had argued that common sense provided that any violation of alien property courted return hostile action, very possibly with weapons far superior to their own. He had ended the debate by emphatically stating that he would not permit any action that could be interpreted by the aliens as hostile.
Niles found himself staring blankly at the satellite’s image on the monitor, mumbling “You won’t talk to us, so ready or not, we are coming to see you in person.”
To Niles he said, “I still say it is entirely possible the aliens have tried to contact us. As far as they’re concerned, our radio signals might be as primitive as a pair of tin cans on a string. Do they even recognize our attempts at contact?”
“You’re probably right, but now you’re really scaring me,” Niles teased, reminded suddenly of how proud he was to be this man’s lover.
Moments later they parted after a swift but affectionate embrace. The ship was leaving orbit, and each had to prepare for landing.
Radio contact was never established, and no one came to investigate their arrival, although they landed less than a kilometer from a medium-size city and within sight of an incredibly high mountain range that Niles jokingly referred to as “the Mountains of Madness” after a Lovecraftian horror novella.
Nothing about the alien world was as they had expected. The climate, atmosphere, and gravity of the new world proved to be within the bounds of human requirement, incredibly enough; radiation levels registered normal as well. The planet’s ubiquitous golden cloudcover, they realized, served as a barrier, trapping heat and humidity beneath its umbrella to create a jungle paradise for the seemingly infinite variety of wildlife. The landing site itself presented a lush habitat of exotic trees and curiously bizarre plant life beneath a purled sky. None of the small, odd looking animals or insects appeared to threaten the humans, and three varieties of creatures were actually adopted by the crewmen as quite loveable pets, including one that looked very much like a house cat with reptilian scales. Protective clothing was not even deemed necessary when leaving the ship.
The more ideal the circumstances became, the more the Captain worried; he could not shake the feeling that they were trespassing in an alien Eden. Puzzled most by Cathdeny’s environmental similarities to Earth, Khatami sought the advice of Dr. Nephram Chandra, the cultural anthropologist and supervisor of the expedition’s scientific team. Khatami asked the Pakistani scientist if it were possible that higher life forms could evolve normally in an environment like this one.
Chandra curtly replied that he could not speculate on such an hypothesis as his definition of “normal” obviously differed greatly from Khatami’s. It seemed Niles had been mistaken — at least one member of the science team considered him something less than a champion.
Immediately after the landing, Khatami ordered three small unmanned robotic craft called “gnats” dispatched to compile a more detailed visual report on the planetary surface with special attention to the populated areas. The gnats were eventually to confirm a possibility that Khatami had dreaded from the moment it occurred to him — the gnats had been unable to locate any indication of a current population and none of the cities were currently inhabited. In all probability, there were no aliens left for the crew to meet.
On the second day of their stay on Cathdeny, the Captain gave the disappointed science team permission to leave the ship as long as they remained within sight of the vessel while collecting samples of flora and fauna. No problems were encountered, and involvement in the activities of the outing helped keep the morale of the participants from hitting rock bottom.
It was not until the third morning that Khatami and five of officers led a delegation of the scientists through the jungle and into the alien city. They hacked their way through dense undergrowth for hours before the heavy vegetation abruptly ended, giving way to a sandy area of several meters’ width that surrounded the entire city. It almost seemed to the humans that the jungle had halted in its approach to the city, afraid or unwilling to barge into such an unnatural place. A type of parasitic vine had, however, crossed over the sandy no-man’s-land and once inside, its endless tendrils had done their best to efface the factitious facades.
The awe and wonder experienced by the explorers as they wandered through the streets of the vine-draped necropolis was tempered by the realization that the actual opportunity to meet the alien creators of the weirdly magnificent city was lost to them forever.
The strange architectural structures looked as if they had been vacated centuries ago. They remained intact, however, indicating a voluntary abandonment rather flight from attack. The haunting mood of the place reminded Niles of the equally ancient and abandoned ruins of Copan, a majestic Mayan ceremonial center in the jungles of Earth; several of his fellow scientists concurred and they unanimously agreed to call the city “New Copan,” at least until its native appellation could be discerned.
The architecture of New Copan did not, however, resemble that of its namesake. What they initially interpreted as skyscrapers populated a maze-like area of intertwined shafts that were bent and twisted at odd angles. The unordered reticulation of leaning near-obelisks bore no doors or windows recognizable to the humans, but rather were riddled with holes, as if a flock of giant woodpeckers had pecked countless holes in a forest of suspended causeways.
Murals and sculptures portrayed the former inhabitants of the city as a cross between a squid and a slug. A bulbous head with a pair of deep-set eyes topped a bulky mass of tentacular appendages, allowing the creatures to “stand” somewhat upright to a height of just over a meter. Apparently, the wet and viscous underside of the tentacles allowed them to adhere, slug-like, to any relatively flat surface, the suction making it possible for them to navigate the exterior walls of the tilting structures. They probably could even cling upside-down to the underside of the buildings’ outer surfaces.
The peculiar architecture of New Copan made much more sense to the humans once they understood the basic physiology of the Cathdenians. The ubiquitous holes had provided entrances and exits for adherent aliens moving from one tangent e
difice to another.
Khatami heard the scientists mumbling about the fascinating “cephalization” demonstrated by the alien form, which he knew meant the aliens’ sense organs and brain were concentrated in the anterior section of the head. He actually understood quite a bit of the scientific jargon but thought it best not to betray such unexpected acumen.
Nowhere among the dusty, windswept streets did they find physical remains of the city’s former occupants. This gave further credence to their initial speculation that New Copan had lain empty for centuries. The metropolis bore none of the tell-tale signs of violence or plague; it was almost as if the entire population had just disappeared, leaving even personal possessions behind.
The most startling feature of the crumbling architecture was unquestionably the queer decor of the one-story domestic dwellings, which were only slightly smaller than human dwellings. Whereas every imaginable variety of stone, glass, metal, and even brick had been thoroughly exploited in the larger structures where strength and durability were of primary concern, the private dwellings were all constructed of a uniform material. This hard amber-like substance of perfect translucence was used to create domes; the painted inner surfaces providing the occupants with privacy in the confines of their homes. The domes themselves were identical in shape and size, undoubtedly created by molding a liquefied substance which later hardened. Before the substance fully solidified, however, the Cathdenians evidently had inserted various items into its two-thirds meter thickness to serve as individualizing decor for their homes. Gems, stones, and bits of organic life, often arranged in baffling patterns and designs, had been encased within the depths of the domes, and Khatami was appalled to discover the carcasses of animals that had been slaughtered for decorative purposes. Some of the animals were frozen in imitation of natural poses, while just the heads of other, more bizarre beasts were arranged in geometric designs that some long-dead Cathdenian must have considered attractive. All of the crewmen were shocked and repulsed at the aliens’ flagrant disregard for other lifeforms, being reminded of Earthly trophy rooms of earlier decades. Further exploration would reveal rows of homes decorated with the butchered bodies of the affectionate cat-like creatures the crew members would come to love so much.
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