Micah Trace and the Shattered Gate

by Eric Swanson

  “The other party charged with the protection of Earth is Dr. Edwin Kennedy. He—”

  “A physician manages their defense apparatus?” Tobiah asked.

  “Actually, humans can earn doctoral degrees in many disciplines, it’s qui—” Pollai stopped as Aquis moved through the center of the room, past him and toward the images of Earth’s defenses.

  “All that…” Aquis whispered at he stepped closer to the monitor. “Is for us?”

  “Well… The proverbial us, Aquis.” Meremoth said as she came nearer to the Ceran giant and tried to comfort him. “I mean, they can’t see this ship as much of a threat… We’re not armed.”

  “Which is precisely why…” Sanballat rose from his seat quickly and set down his ever-present data pad. It clicked on the steel table amidst several seats as he left it. “First contact with the humans must be handled by someone adept at diplomacy and skilled in discretion.”

  The entire crew chuckled at Sanballat’s naked grab for power. They all knew well that it was coming, but the Courtier had done little to ingratiate himself to the rest of the crew during their long journey. Bereft of allies as even Tobiah lightly laughed at his attempt to wrest control from Micah, Sanballat glared around the room and saw nothing but derision.

  “Sit down, Sanballat.” Micah stepped closer to him, a weight in the Hybrid’s voice. Without further protest, Sanballat sat. That settled, Micah turned back to the rest of the group. “I’ll handle first contact and Garreous and Remy will engage with their scientists to verify what I am...” Micah looked around the room at Wes, Po and Lahm for a moment. “What we are… Then we’ll deal with what comes next.”

  “The gate.” Garreous said as the image on the screen pulled out once more, almost as if queued by his words.

  On the screen, just past the massive network of steel, polymer and plastic tools of monitoring and defense floated a massive black broken circle. The gate, shattered hundreds of years earlier in a desperate attempt to stop the last of the Cerans’ ships from leaving through the burning blue fire, hung agape and dormant.

  While he stared at the image in breathless wonder, Garreous found himself speculating as to just how visible that gate was to the people of Earth.

  “Well…” Wes said to fill the silence Garreous’s tense comment had created. He flexed his right hand a couple times before he continued. “At least we know we shouldn’t expect a parade or

  anything…”

  Satisfied that the goal of the discussion had been accomplished, Micah called to an end the gathering and everyone began to disperse. As the room cleared out, the screen continued to display the broken gate which hung idle in space.

  Micah stepped within inches of the screen as everyone else left the room. The screen floated a bit of warmth into the otherwise cool room, but it only heated the air half an inch from the black glass surface. The last of the Virgalis’s crew padded out of the common room and Sanballat’s bootheel clicked against the steel floor in the entry way as he left in a deliberate rhythm.

  As the former Mimic came nearer to the screen and the image of his objective upon it, he felt a bit of the emanated warmth on his face. On the monitor, the gate hung in near-Earth space, shattered as it had been for centuries. Micah pulled stale recycled air into his lung with an aggressive inhale and held his breath for a moment longer than typical.

  The air in his chest pressed his lungs with each passing beat and began to burn. Absently, Micah wondered how many times that same air had found its way into his body over the course of his years aboard the Virgalis.

  Hundreds, perhaps thousands of times…

  That same air, machine filtered and pushed back out…

  In that moment, Micah fully realized that the gate was a secondary objective for him on this voyage to Earth. He wanted the air of his ancestors in his lungs, the soil of his people beneath his feet and the sun of his half-home-world on his skin. The old air, contained, static and staid, finally forced its way out of Micah and his pursed lips sputtered against the wind through it.

  “What was that, Mike?” Wes’s question came from the narrow entryway behind Micah. The leader of the Virgalis mission spun to face the voice of his closest friend. Embarrassed, warm blood flushed Micah’s face.

  “It was ju—” Micah waved his hand before his face, a small smile on his lips. More words wouldn’t come, and Micah just laughed with his eyes dropped to the gray steel floor.

  “Holding your breath again?” Wes asked after he moved to Micah’s side. Both faced the image of the shattered gate but only Wes watched the screen. He smiled and bumped Micah’s shoulder with his, eyes still on the gate. “The ambient air pressure on the ship isn’t quite as low as it is on Ceres…” Wes said as his eyes floated around the common room for a silent second.

  Micah lifted his gaze from the floor and locked eyes with Wes. Micah’s eyebrows twitched up and matched smiles came across both faces.

  “… Garreous mentioned the air pressure thing a while back, I just…” Wes shrugged.

  “It’s good information.” Micah interrupted with a nudge back against Wes’s massive frame.

  “Good information.” Wes repeated with a tight nod.

  A spate of quiet moments passed as both stared at the screen and the gate, neither near enough to be warmed by it. Wes rested a massive hand on Micah’s shoulder for a long moment then squeezed the shoulder for a beat.

  “We’re here, Mike.” Wes said. He gestured to the gate and space around it and the fingers that pointed at the screen tingled. Wes flexed his hand, fingers flayed then bunched into a fist, quickly before he dropped the stinging hand to his side and spoke quietly. “You made it.”

  “Wes, I…” Micah’s head fell slightly as doubt weighed on his mind. “I don’t know what’s next.”

  “That’s next.” Wes pointed at the gate again. “Don’t wrap yourself up in the unknown. In a situation like this, we deal with what we know. We know we’ve come this far following you and your mission, your calling.” Wes waited for a moment for Micah’s eyes to meet his before he continued. “We know that the gate’s still there.” A scoff and quick chuckle from the larger Hybrid broke some of the conversation’s tension. “If I’m being totally honest, that was a worry of mine, Mike.”

  For the first time in years, the preternatural, unspoken connection between Micah and Wes didn’t seem fully functional. Micah simply eyed Wes with a slightly cocked head and wide, lost eyes.

  “Those whackjobs Kaymar and Pollai said they saw pieces of the gate… It’s more intact than I thought it would be after all this time…”

  “Makes the second part of our job easier, I guess.” Micah said. He nodded a bit then shrugged, surety in his sky-blue eyes for a moment then gone again.

  “Second part?” Wes asked. He turned his full attention to Micah and away from the screen and gate.

  “Absolutely.” Micah walked toward the circular port window in brief quiet. “The gate’s the job we get after a promotion, Wes.” He pointed out the port window at the distant planet Earth. “We’ve got to convince them, humans, that we’re here for their benefit.”

  “Well,” Wes said as he came to Micah’s side before the window and a far-flung Earth. He smiled brightly as his massive shoulder nudged his best friend. “Good thing that’s your job, Mike. Like most, I fear public speaking more than death. I’ll jump in front of a bullet for you but don’t ask me to jump in front of any crowds.”

  “No bullets in your future, Wes. I think…” Micah paused for a moment as a moment of wonder washed over him. How far they’d come, how near they were to the mission’s objective and simultaneously, how far they were from the journey’s end. “I think what’s ahead of us is pretty clear… It’s the who that remains a mystery… Kaymar and Pollai made some joke about us asking to be—” He held up quote-fingers. “—‘Taken to Their Leader’…”

  Wes shrugged, unsure of Micah’s reference.

  “I don’t know, I guess it’s par
t of some of their entertainment, when they imagine meeting…” Micah gestured between the two of them with a lazy hand. “Us…” A final shrug reset Micah’s tone a bit and he continued “Who their leaders are and what they think of us… That’s what scares me most. That’s the hard part.”

  For a few quiet moments, Micah and Wes stared out the port window at Earth. “People make decisions about you pretty quickly, Mike. You’re likable, genuine. They’ll trust you quick, just like I did.”

  “They’ve been staring at the sky for four centuries, waiting for death and fire to come for them again, Wes… I’m not so sure…”

  Wes wrapped a massive arm around Micah’s shoulders and pulled him in for a half-hug.

  “Fine. Don’t be sure.” Wes said. He leaned in close to Micah and spoke with a level of conviction rare for someone so light-hearted. “I know you. I know what you are and what you can do. I’ll be sure for the two of us.”

  Wes turned away from the window and walked away from Micah as the Mimic continued to stare at Earth alone for a moment.

  “Come on, Mike. Billions of new friends to make… Let’s get you to Earth.”

  As the pair walked toward the corridor that led from the Common Room, several tones came from the ceiling and ANDI’s voice jumped into the quiet.

  “Alert: Readings from some of the Terrans’ equipment indicates detection of the Virgalis.”

  Micah and Wes exchanged wide eyed, horrified looks and ran from the Common Room toward the Control Center. An unimaginably massive distance from the only home either had ever known, both struggled to grasp a very simple idea: The humans knew they were coming and almost certainly saw them as a threat.

  Epilogue

  Unity Day

  12:59 Central Standard Time CHICAGO, IL

  Kurt McCreary, the leader of Humanity, Guardian of Earth and Premier of the Global Congress, stood backstage at the Unity Day Opening Ceremony, a block of glass pressed to his ear. Each time he spoke into the device, his blond hair shifted a little bit around the phone. The Premier’s normally bright blue eyes darkened as the conversation in progress weighed upon him.

  “I understand. Of course, Ed.” Kurt McCreary spoke in a low, serious voice. As he responded to the other voice, tension and a bit of fear pulled at his face. “Absolutely. … As soon as I’m done with the Unity Day opening address…” Kurt nodded as the other party spoke again. “We are.” After a brief pause. “We will.” Kurt nodded once more and gently squeezed the crème colored sheets of paper in his other hand without thinking. The crinkling sounds the paper made as it creased beneath his grip shook the tension from the Premier of Earth’s Global Congress. “Of course. Ten minutes. Thank you, Ed. Speak to you shortly.”

  Kurt ended the call and tucked his phone into his left-hand rear pants pocket.

  Kurt spent so much time handwriting his speeches that memorization of them was never an issue. Long ago, when humanity used to put ink to paper to record everything, it was known that the process of writing, physically, actually writing somehow encoded most of those words deeply into the writer’s memory.

  Kurt’s grandmother used to tell him stories about her grandmother… This far flung, time lost woman remembered almost every fact, figure and notable historical event taught to her in school because she wrote everything down.

  Repeatedly.

  Dozens of times, “2x2=4”.

  Hundreds of times, “The Episode occurred on September 10th, 2054. Over 100,000 taken.”

  So, committed to the long-lost art of handwriting and the benefits of it, Kurt crafted his speeches then transcribed them a dozen times, word-for-word. Kurt’s approach to speechwriting and retention was well-known and an aspect of his public persona which came to signify his steadfast commitment to the Terran way of life.

  All that, ink, paper, repetition aside… His aides often still tried to hand him a data pad copy of each speech as he walked toward the stage and podium.

  “I’m fine, thank you Perry.” Kurt smiled at his newest aide, a young man in his early 20s. Perry dropped his eyes to ground and drew the data-pad back to his chest. A step past him, Kurt stopped and turned back to the aide. Perry still had his head down, data-pad clutched to himself like it was a child. “Perry.” Kurt reached out and rested a hand on Perry’s shoulder. Kurt flashed a genuine, reassuring smile and his shining blue eyes almost disappeared as his eyelids narrowed. Small dimples like his son’s appeared as Kurt held the smile for a moment and Perry slowly brought his face up to meet Kurt’s friendly gaze.

  Behind Perry, the muted roar of a crowd of thousands, gathered for Kurt’s Unity Day speech. The backstage area Perry and Kurt occupied was shaded but streaks of sunshine from the stage suggested a beautiful day.

  “Kurt McCreary, Premier of the Global Congress, will address the Unity Day celebration momentarily.” The voice over the Public Address system was automated and largely emotionless.

  “Perry.” Kurt renewed his smile and leaned closer. “It’s fine. You’re new and I’m weird. I have idiosyncrasies that defy logic or explanation…”

  Perry laughed for a moment with Kurt and his shoulders slacked a bit. “Thank you, sir.” He almost whispered. He averted his eyes from Kurt’s for a beat but then met them again. “Thank you.” He said with more strength this time.

  “You’ll get to know them and like everyone else…” Kurt said as he walked up the stairs toward the stage. “I’m sure you’ll mock me for them behind my back!” Kurt laughed loudly and took that energy into his first steps on to the open stage.

  As the crowd roared and applauded in unison, Perry joined them. He clapped hard and fast, and an emotional mix of admiration and inspiration overwhelmed the young man. A few stray tears welled in Perry’s eyes as he watched Kurt stride to the podium.

  “Thank you! Thank you!” Kurt stepped to the podium, hands up, palms out to the crowd. Kurt smiled more and waved hard to the massive crowd with each hand, alternatively, left-side then right-side of the stage. “You people are amazing, really!” Kurt yelled as he walked back and forth across the stage.

  A small child seated on her father’s shoulders held a translucent digital signboard in her hands and waved it over her head. It was one of many in the crowd which read “Kurt McCreary: The Conductor of the Concert of Earth!” The nickname came as a result of Kurt’s efforts to continue the process of unification the people of Earth had begun seventy-five years earlier. Kurt stood at the center of the Global Congress and directed the actions and reactions of straggler nation-states who hadn’t fully joined the GC yet along with full-fledged members.

  Kurt pointed at the girl and her sign with another bright smile. The dark-haired, green eyed girl began to scream with excitement and waved the sign wildly.

  “He pointed at me. Dad!” She leaned down nearer to her father’s right ear and screamed the same thing again.

  Her father smiled then grimaced a little as she screamed straight into his ear a third time.

  Kurt gave her another wave and stepped to the podium.

  “Thank you, really.” Kurt stood at the dark wood podium and waved for another moment while he waited for the crowd to quiet. The small Global Congress logo on the front of the podium matched the massive, one-hundred-foot-tall version behind Kurt. The logo was a white circle with a sky-blue outline of the Earth and it’s continents with the letters “GC” in the same shade of blue below the globe. The letters overlapped the sky-blue Antarctica in stately block characters.

  Slowly, the clamor from the crowd quieted.

  “Thank you.” Kurt said one final time. “Welcome, to those of you here in Chicago and the billions watching around the world… to the opening ceremony of Unity Day!” The crowd roared once more but swiftly quieted. “Welcome, Global Congressional representatives, diplomats and gathered peoples of the Unified Earth! Long ago, this city was part of a great nation, among many great nations of our planet.”

  Kurt drew a deep breath and continued.

 
; “We existed as a people, divided by lines on a map, by the color of our skin and by beliefs in our hearts. Those divisions led to war, cruelty and death… One death in the name of a nation or a deity is too many. The millions upon millions of deaths we could account for and attribute to all the wars we fought amongst ourselves… The number boggles the mind and the idea of it deeply saddens us. But we cannot live, grow and progress as a people if we operate unaware of our past failings.”

  The clamor of the crowd, ambient noise and side-conversations faded entirely as Kurt drew people in by bringing them to a visceral moment of realization. Tens of thousands in attendance and others who watched around the world found loved ones near them and reached out for brief hugs.

  “Four centuries ago… A force came to our planet. We don’t know who they were. We don’t know what they wanted… other than us.” Kurt dropped his head and briefly stared at the podium’s wood table top. To most, it may have looked like Kurt was lost in emotion and looked down to refresh his memory… To everyone who knew him, it was clear that emotion stopped his speech and Kurt was collecting himself. Steel in his voice and a new fire in his eyes, Kurt’s head rose and he looked back out over the nearly silent crowd. “They succeeded. One hundred thousand brothers and sisters taken from all over the world… Still, four hundred years later, the specter of that day hangs in our sky.”

  Kurt pointed to the sky and the broken gate. Most of the crowd spent at least a few minutes a day looking to sky and the gate… wondering. Most didn’t need to turn toward the implement of alien terror to recall what it looked like or allow Kurt’s point to resonate.

  “We stare at it. We can’t remove it because too much of it would survive the fire of reentry. So it stays… In a horrifying day… a single day… we learned that we were not only not alone in the universe but whatever others do exist don’t have our best interests or a friendly relationship in mind. Suddenly, the fear of the unknown of space was replaced by a fear of the known…”