Parker's Folly

by Doug L. Hoffman

  “Along with the technological data was other information, about the creators of the artifact and how it came to reside on Earth. This is the most unbelievable part—proof of the scientific data is all around us but the history of the artifact must be taken mostly on faith.”

  “Let me guess, it was put here by aliens.”

  “Yes! How did you know?”

  “I have read science fiction. You said ‘mostly on faith,’ what evidence do you have?”

  “We dated a sample of material from a damaged portion of the artifact. It's around four million years old. The geologist verified that the strata the artifact was found in was even older, meaning we were not getting spurious background readings.”

  “Anything else?”

  Jack was getting the feeling that Ludmilla wasn't buying the whole aliens thing. “Historical data extracted from the artifact describes in great detail a series of experiments performed by the aliens. Biological experiments—carried out on Earth lifeforms. It seems that the aliens themselves didn't survive on Earth all that long, but their ship did.”

  “This is an alien spaceship?”

  “No, no. We built this ship using technology gained from the artifact. No insult to Folly, but as fantastic as she is, she is a primitive nothing compared with the ship the aliens arrived in. But back to the biological experiments. Because the aliens were dying out, they programmed the ship's AI, its artificial intelligence, to breed sentient creatures from the local fauna using genetic manipulation. The idea being that, when the locals advanced enough to handle the technology, the artifact would make its presence known. Only something went wrong, maybe the breeding program took too long, who knows? We do know that the ship was failing and the artifact was released early when a chance opportunity presented itself.”

  “And that is it? That is your explanation for all of this?”

  “Don't you see, Ludmilla? You're a biologist, you know that around four million years ago primates suddenly underwent a spurt of rapid evolution. Not just once, but time and again, new species radiated out from the area where the Arabian Peninsula and Northeast Africa collide. Species after species—Australopithecus afarensis, Homo ergaster, Homo erectus—each with subtle improvements: An easier upright gait, an omnivorous diet, larger brains and vocal cords that allowed spoken language to develop.

  “These hominins became more facile tool makers, smarter too. Eventually, by the time the last glacial period peaked, 20,000 years ago, there were only three competing finalists left in the alien breeding program: Homo neanderthalensis, Homo denisova and Homo sapiens. The last species won.”

  “You are saying...”

  “I'm saying that people, Homo sapiens, were created by aliens.”

  “And the talking bear?”

  “They were the backup plan.”

  Chapter 11

  Lt. Bear's Quarters, Parker's Folly.

  In the aft section of the ship there were a number of storage compartments. On the lower deck, near the engineering spaces, there were two large walk-in freezer units, reefers in Navy lingo. Reefer #2 was also known, informally, as Lt. Bear's quarters. Inside, the Captain was having a conversation with his security officer and friend.

  “So, did you put the moves on her?” asked Bear.

  “No, I did not. It was not that type of liaison.”

  “Next time try grabbing her and biting her on the back of the neck—that always makes my dates feel amorous.”

  “Right,” said Jack, adding somewhat crestfallen, “Bear, you don't understand. I laid it all out for her—the artifact, the ship, the alien breeding program, the whole thing—and she just sat there looking at me.”

  The reefer door opened and Lt. Curtis walked in. Like the Captain, she was wearing one of the parkas that hung outside, next to the big freezer units. Inside the reefer the temperature was kept at -25° Celsius, cold enough to give unprotected humans frostbite in 20 minutes.

  For Bear, this was just comfortable sleeping temperature. Normal shipboard temperature was punishingly hot for him, which is why he lived in the reefer. After glancing in her direction, Bear continued. “So you had her speechless? Like I said, you should have gone for the old neck nip.”

  “I think I've missed something important here,” said Gretchen. “Jack, you're not taking romantic advice from Bear, are you?”

  “No, no. It's got nothing to do with romance. I was trying to describe the outcome of my talk with Ludmilla.”

  “I take it things did not go smoothly?”

  “I don't know, I couldn't really tell. We had a nice friendly dinner and were lingering over dessert and brandy. She asked about the ship and our mission so I began to explain how we came to be in this situation.”

  “And she didn't buy it?”

  “She just sat there. Whenever I paused she just looked at me and said ‘please continue.’”

  “You told her everything? About the artifact, the encoded data, the technology, building the ship?”

  “Yes, I even told her about the alien breeding program, why Bear can talk—nothing got a rise out of her.”

  “Well, at least she didn't laugh in your face.”

  “You know, they can't laugh in your face if you have them by the back of the neck.”

  “Put a sock in it, Bear,” Gretchen snapped. Working together over the past several years the three ship's officers had actually developed a close friendship. It was understood that their private meetings in the reefer were totally informal but sometimes Bear's sense of humor ran away with him. Of course, he might be serious about the neck biting.

  “Polar bear romance isn't the issue here, my friend. I got the distinct impression she thought me crazy. You know, humoring me like I was an escapee from a mental institution.”

  “I thought you were crazy when I first met you, maybe I should go talk to her? You know I can be very persuasive, particularly with females,” Bear offered helpfully, “I'll tell her what a great guy you are.”

  “How did the evening end, Jack?” asked Gretchen, ignoring Bear's offer to act as an intermediary.

  “She said, ‘that's very interesting, Jack, I will need to think about what you have said.’ We stood up and shook hands, she said goodnight and left. Gretchen, I couldn't read her at all. I'm normally good at reading people but she was indecipherable.”

  “Tell me why we need this Russian pizda again?” asked Bear.

  “Bear, that is a very rude word,” scolded Gretchen.

  Damn, I keep forgetting that she speaks Russian. Defensively Bear added, “I didn't call you one.”

  “Keep it up and I'll go get my bokken.”

  “Oh would you, please?” Bear's nostrils flared and his ears lay flat against his head, a sign of eager anticipation. If he had been a dog his tail would have been wagging furiously.

  Crap, Gretchen thought, Jack's having a confidence crisis and the four legged fur ball is only interested in some inter-species S&M. Not that Bear was aroused sexually, her rump wasn't big enough or hairy enough to qualify as polar bear sexy. But everything that polar bears did—from feeding to making love—involved violence. Hanging around on the ship with nothing large to fight with had Bear suffering from sensory deprivation. All he really wanted was for her to smack him with her wooden sword a few times during mock combat.

  “Maybe we can spar later,” she said, reaching out and scratching the top of his muzzle. Then, turning her attention back to Jack, “I'd take her at face value, that she wanted time to think about what you said.”

  “I hope you're right. We have plenty of physicists and engineers on board, but she is the only biologist. I would really like to have her on the team when things hit the fan.”

  “Hang in there jack, I can't believe she actually thinks you're crazy.”

  Guest Dayroom, Lower Deck, Parker's Folly.

  “The man is psychotic! He should be institutionalized before he hurts himself or someone else,” fumed Ludmilla. She was pacing back and fourth in front of Iva
n and Susan. Their impromptu troika was joined by JT, who had just finished his watch.

  “Please slow down, Ludmilla,” begged Susan, “tell us what happened last night with the Captain.”

  “OK. The evening started out fine—we had cocktails, a nice dinner with a really nice red Bordeaux. Conversation was polite, we exchanged stories about our childhoods and careers, typical dinner conversation. He is actually quite charming, our Captain.” And your heart was all aflutter, like a school girl, she chided herself.

  “Yes?” prompted Susan, her reporter's instincts tingling.

  “Then I asked him about the ship, about his mission. The sookin syn proceeds to tell me this fantasy story about aliens visiting Earth and devices containing secret technology. Does he think I am some kind of belokurva, an empty headed bimbo that he can feed me such horse manure?”

  “Calm down, Dr. Tropsha, and tell us exactly what he said,” demanded Ivan, playing the stern Russian patriarch.

  “Yes, Ludmilla,” offered JT soothingly. “We'd all like to hear what he said to upset you so.”

  “OK, OK,” said the still pacing Ludmilla. And to think that I was starting to like the son of a bitch! When it comes to men you can really pick them, Luda. Now stop acting like a teenage girl after a bad date and tell the others what that lying govn'uk said. She took several deep breaths and continued.

  “He said that all of the advanced technology found in this ship came from some alien storage device—he called it the artifact—which was found decades ago by an American geologist somewhere in Arabia. According to our esteemed Captain, a small team of scientists managed to decode this artifact and find out how to control gravity, produce energy from fusion and many other things.”

  “So far that would seem to fit,” JT observed, quickly adding. “I mean, I could believe that one or two breakthroughs came from some private lab, but the technology embodied in this ship is years ahead of anything on Earth. It seems improbable for so many advances to be invented in such a short time by the same small team. It makes more sense that the technology came from an outside source. I'm not a believer in little green men, but there may be some truth to the Captain's story.”

  “Are you done?” Ludmilla had stopped pacing and was glaring at JT. “Because there is more.”

  “OK, sorry.” JT sat down on one of the couches and fell silent.

  “I asked if the ship had been built by aliens, but he said no, that they had built the ship themselves using alien technology. I said fine, but he said that was not all. It seems that these aliens, through genetic manipulation and selective breeding, are responsible for the talking bear... and for us.”

  “Us?” Susan and Ivan asked simultaneously.

  “Us. People. Human beings! Jack said that the aliens bred us for intelligence, until we would be able to understand their technology.”

  “And how long did this breeding program take?” asked JT, no longer able to contain himself.

  “Four million years, give or take.”

  To herself Susan thought, either the Captain is totally nuts or this is the biggest story in the history of mankind. My God! If this is true it will cause riots in the street, and maybe war over possession of the technology. Ludmilla obviously doesn't believe it's true, but if it is, we humans are nothing more than some alien's pet poodles.

  “That does correspond to the evolutionary time frame for the development of modern humans,” JT added, earning himself another sharp glance from Ludmilla. You know, I think our Russian lady doctor is upset because she thinks the Captain dissed her. And now she thinks I'm making fun of her as well. She's not approaching this like a scientist. He decided to take a chance. “Could we try to think about this like scientists?”

  “Yes, remember the Captain's little speech right after we were rescued—about trusting the scientific method?” Ivan agreed. “If the Captain is insane, obsessed by aliens, the only way we might be able to reach him is using logic, using science. Reverse the argument. For this story to be true, and not just some fairy tale, what proof would we need?”

  “I can't believe you are both taking this seriously. It is ludicrous, nonsense on the face of it!”

  Sensing another rebuke coming, JT jumped in with an explanation of his reasoning. “Is the existence of aliens less probable than a whole string of scientific breakthroughs in many different fields, all sponsored by some oilman out in the wastelands of West Texas? Breakthroughs so fundamental that they defy science as we know it and allow a small group of people to build this ship—a real working spaceship—in secret?”

  “It will take more than ray guns and spaceships to convince me that we are the product of alien genetic manipulation. Show me an alien, alive or dead, get me a tissue sample! Then I will consider believing this madman.”

  Bridge, Parker's Folly

  Dr. Saito was intently studying the readouts on the navigator's console, where the results of the ground penetrating radar survey were being displayed. These readings are quite anomalous, he thought, I was expecting to find some buried water deposits or some minerals, maybe an empty lava tube or two, but that return looks for the world like an empty space beneath that small crater.

  “Mr. Medina, could you look at this display and tell me if everything is working correctly, please?” Yuki asked the engineer, who was once again OOD.

  “Hmm,” said Jo Jo Medina, examining the settings on the radar console. “Everything seems to be functioning fine, Professor. What seems to be the problem?”

  “If this instrument is correct, then there is a void under the floor of this crater,” Yuki said, indicating the computer generated visualization on the monitor. “I think I need to have Mr. Taylor come back to the bridge, since he is our astronomer.”

  “I didn't know the Moon had caves,” Jo Jo remarked. “What's the name of the crater?”

  “It is called Giordano Bruno.”

  Crew's Dayroom, Lower Deck, Parker's Folly

  Tommy Wendover was alone in the crew's mess when Col. Kondratov found him. The Colonel had been searching for the disaffected young man since Dr. Tropsha's diatribe in the passenger's dayroom. At first Ivan had thought that simply gathering as much information as he could about the ship and its fantastic technology would be sufficient. But now, given Ludmilla's description of the Captain's insane ravings, he felt that stronger action might be necessary.

  Unfortunately, there was little that a single man could accomplish on a ship full of fanatics. Ivan needed allies and had decided to begin his search with the angry young stowaway. The Captain's highhanded treatment of the boy should make turning him against the others simple.

  “Hello, Tommy was it?” the Russian Colonel said, walking up to where Wendover was seated.

  “Who are you?” Tommy asked, looking up with a scowl on his face. The other crew members were either sleeping or off working elsewhere in the ship. He had been ordered to clean out one of the storage lockers and stack the equipment on the deck. When he finished that, the grizzled old Chief had come back and told him to put the stuff back into the locker. In other words, they were just messing with him. Now Tommy was sitting in the crew's mess, hoping to be ignored.

  “I am Col. Ivan Kondratov, mission commander from the International Space Station.” That last was not technically a lie, he had been acting commander after the real commander abandoned the station. “I could not help but notice the unfair treatment you have been receiving from the Captain and his officers.”

  “Oh?” Tommy perked up. Up until now, nobody on board had a kind word for him. And this guy says he's some kind of officer, maybe he can help me out, the young man thought. “Uh, how are you Colonel?”

  “I am fine, except that I'm very concerned about the situation on board this ship. I have begun to realize that the Captain may be mentally unbalanced and that this is a kind of pirate ship.”

  “If the Captain ain't crazy that little fuck they call the Chief is. That old coot is nuttier than a shithouse rat,” Tommy fumed
, his hatred poring out in the presence of the seemingly sympathetic Russian. “And you're saying these jerks are pirates? No shit?”

  “Yes, Tommy,” Ivan agreed in a calm, sympathetic voice. “I believe that they are all in violation of international law and must be brought to justice. Their treatment of you is certainly a crime that warrants investigation.”

  “Ain't that the truth! Hey, all I want is out of here, can you help with that?” Like all con-men, Tommy was particularly susceptible to being conned himself.

  “Not this instant, but a time will come for decisive action. I'm looking for those who would be willing to help bring these brigands to the international court in the Hague.” Ivan had no intention of charging the Captain and crew in the international court of justice. What he had in mind was more along the line of taking over the ship, a secret landing in Mother Russia and a long interrogation of the ship's crew by the GRU, Russia's military intelligence agency.

  “Well I'm willing to help with that, Colonel,” said Tommy eagerly. “I want some payback.”

  “What about the American Marines? I understand that they are not members of the original crew but were on board at takeoff because they were ordered to take over the ship.” These Marines may not be Spetznaz, but they could be a help in handling the crew.

  “I don't know, they were all pretty pissed off at being wounded and zapped with ray guns,” Tommy said, throwing himself into the developing conspiracy with relish. “And they are all sure afraid of that talking bear. But the woman in charge, the Gunny, she cut some kinda' deal with the Captain and the rest are all going along.”

  “Too bad.” Yes, that is a disappointment, Ivan thought. He had hoped for some useful allies among the American military personnel. “No matter, we must be careful and bide our time. We need to gather intelligence and wait for our moment to come. Are you with me, Tommy?”