Thunderbird (14 page)

“Okay. When you get to the door, keep off to one side. In case I need a clear shot.”

Three wooden steps led up onto the porch. She climbed them and faced the door. It had a lever. She paused and listened. Something was moving around inside.

Tree branches moved in the wind. She knocked. Softly.

Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing,

Only a signal shown and a distant voice in the darkness,

So on the ocean of life, we pass and speak one another,

Only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence.

—Henry W. Longfellow,
Tales of a Wayside Inn
, 1863

S
OMEONE
WAS
COMING
. April heard a click, a latch probably. Then the door swung open.

She looked up at a gorilla.

Well, not really a gorilla. It stood straight, its arms were no longer than hers, and its face, despite the fur, bore no resemblance to a simian. Its eyes went wide, and its brow creased. It stared down at her. She would have bolted had she been able, but she was frozen in place. It looked as shocked as she was. They stared at each other. April tried to back away, but she lost her footing and went down. The thing hurried out after her, grabbed her arm, and prevented a hard fall.

It growled. That was when April saw the fangs. But then it released her.

She tried to scramble away. Its eyes were looking past her now, over her shoulder, and she heard John coming. He had the clear shot he'd wanted.

April's eyes were locked on the creature, which was still holding out a hand to her, as if to invite her to stay.

Suddenly, April realized it was
wearing a robe
!

“Don't, John,” she screamed. She caught her breath, grabbed the hand, and steadied herself. She tried to get between the creature and her security escort. “Don't shoot.” And she performed what probably was the gutsiest act of her life. She threw herself into the creature's arms.

“April,” he shouted, “what are you doing? Get out of the way.”

She stayed where she was, waving at John to stop. “Put it down,” she said. “For God's sake, put it down.”

The creature stared at the weapon, breathing hard. “Get away from it,” said John.

It growled again. Or, rather, it
spoke
.
“Kiballah di santo.”

“Hello,” said April, hanging on to the creature. It was also wearing
slippers
.

It backed away from her, withdrawing a step into the cabin.
“Kumenta dirk.”
And it closed the door between them.

The others had fallen in behind John and were all moving cautiously toward the porch, urging her to run, to get out of there. Other than a few red marks on her right arm, she was fine.

“Come on,” said Brad. “Let's clear out while we can.”

April retreated back onto the grass. The creature appeared at a window. It looked afraid. “What the hell was that?” asked Abe.

“I have no idea. It's a simian of some sort. But look, how about if everybody goes back to the trees, and we try again?”

“I don't think that's a good idea,” said Cornelius.

April held out both hands. “It's trying to talk to us.”

“Maybe.” Cornelius fixed April with a warning glare. “Even if you're right, you don't exactly speak the language.”

“Let's give it a try, okay? Everybody get back out of the way.”

“A lot of good that'll do now,” said Brad.

April watched them retreat into the trees. John stayed where he was, a few steps behind her. The creature was still watching through the window. April raised her right hand. “Hi. How are you doing?”

It didn't move.

She went back to the door and knocked softly.

It drew away from the window and, after a few seconds, the inside latch clicked again. The door opened. April removed her fedora. “Hello,” she said.

It stared down at her, then glanced back at John, who was still holding the rifle but pointing it off to one side. And it said something that sounded like
Shall eye
.

“Shall eye,” April said, hoping she'd gotten the pronunciation right.

The creature replied:
“Shalay.”

April understood. “
Shalay
to you.” She pressed a hand against her breast. “April.”

It hesitated, looked past her again, toward John. It showed a set of fangs, but she wasn't sure it hadn't been a smile.
“Ay-pril,”
it said. It hesitated, and backed away, leaving room for her to enter. She saw two large armchairs, a framed painting hanging on a wall, and a shelf with
books
. The creature stood watching her. Waiting for her to enter. It tightened its robe and she saw it had breasts. She placed a claw over them.
“Solya,”
she said.

The radio buzzed. “You okay?” John's voice.

Solya
looked startled and shifted her focus to the radio, which was clipped to April's belt.

“Yes. I'm fine.”

“Be careful.”

“I'm okay.” She left it on so John could overhear everything and smiled at the creature. “Solya?”

“Gont.”
It added a question, which of course April couldn't translate. But she could guess.
Where are you from? Who are you?
What
are you?

She showed her a picture of the Cupola. But it simply looked puzzled. Or maybe shocked. “Glad to meet you,” April said.

“Gont.”
Yes. And, holding both hands to her head:
“Loka.”

That might have meant
Welcome
, or
Glad to meet you
. Or that she didn't have a clue what April was talking about.

She went inside and pulled the door closed. There was a sofa that April had missed. Other than being oversized, the furnishings looked comfortable. Solya indicated she should take a seat. April had some reservations
about sitting, but she said thanks and eased into one of the chairs. She could see into two other rooms. The gorilla went into one and came back a minute later with a basket of red- and orange-colored fruit, which she held out for her visitor. The instructions were not to eat the local food. But April didn't want to offend her host. She selected something that looked like a lemon. “Thank you.”

“Bana ki.”
She was trying to commit to memory the words she was reasonably sure of. This was probably
You're welcome
.

Solya asked her something, but it was completely unintelligible. April looked up at the bookshelf. There were nine volumes, and another one lay open on one of the chairs. She wanted to ask whether there was a city nearby. Where had the books come from? How many neighbors did she have? April took a photo of Solya and showed it to her.

Solya's mouth dropped, and her eyes went wide.

Obviously, these weren't the people who'd created the Cupola. “I would like to take some more, if I may?” She spoke slowly, hoping that Solya would grasp the meaning. The creature waved her hands—
claws
was the wrong word; she had fingers—in a manner that suggested April could do as she wished. Meantime, she slipped out of the room again. April busied herself taking photos of everything, especially the paintings. (She'd discovered a second one.) Both were landscapes. When Solya came back, the robe was gone. She was wearing orange slacks and a blue knit blouse.

“Your home looks very nice,” April said, smiling and extending her hands toward the furnishings.

Solya shook her head and looked puzzled. She had no idea what April was saying.

There was no sign of electrical power. Two lamps were visible, but both appeared to be oil-based. She couldn't keep her eyes off the books. She got up from the chair and walked over to get a better look. They were bound, with titles on the spines in exotic characters. They were
printed
. She reached for one, touched it, but the shelf was high, and the books were large. She was afraid she'd drop it if she tried to take it down, so she picked up the volume
on the chair. Solya said something but all April could do was smile and nod. What had she said? Probably
Are you familiar with it?
Maybe
You can have it if you like.

What kind of book was it? A novel? A history? A philosophical work? Whatever it might be, it was priceless. She looked through the pages. The print was a bit larger than would have been found in a book at home. She held it against her breast to indicate that she was entranced by it.

Eventually, she put it back on the chair, watching Solya for any signal that it would be all right if she kept it. But none came.

Solya pointed at the door, held her hands out, and shook her head. April translated it as
Maybe you should leave now.
Or
Where did you come from?
She decided to go with the second reading and tried to indicate very far away. But maybe it was time to back off. She asked whether it would be okay if she returned later so they could talk some more. She pointed to her lips. “I would like to get to know you better. Learn your language. “

Solya smiled. It was a bit unsettling, that smile. Too many fangs in it. But yes, she seemed to understand. The smile widened. She pointed at the door and moved her arms back and forth. Come and go. As you like.

Eventually, April got to her feet and glanced at the book, still without a reaction. “I should be leaving.”

Solya also got up.
“Gormana,”
she said, as April started for the door.

“Gormana, Solya.”
And for one wild moment she thought about grabbing the book and making a run for it.

It is prudent for a man to abstain from threats or contemptuous expressions, for neither weaken the enemy: threats make him more cautious, and contemptuous remarks excite his hatred and a desire to avenge himself.

—Niccolò Machiavelli,
Discorsi
, II, 1531

W
HEN
G
EORGE
F
REEWATER
heard the news about Solya, he was delirious with joy. He jumped on the grid and went back to North Dakota. The security detail and a handful of pool reporters watched him arrive. He was off schedule so they knew something had happened. “We found
aliens
,” he told them. “Well,
one
alien, really. It doesn't look much like us, but it's friendly.” He waved and laughed. “They look like oversized monkeys.” The audience was torn between cheering and laughing. “They have books,” he added. And the laughter went away. Then he went back to the Cupola to serve the final hours of his watch.

Jack Swiftfoot heard the story on his car radio while on his way to the Roundhouse. He was scheduled to relieve George in an hour for the next watch. Johnson's Ridge was usually pretty quiet at that hour, but when he arrived, it was jammed with reporters. None of April's team had gotten back yet, but the chairman was there, shaking hands, smiling, giving statements to interviewers, commenting on the courage of those “who put themselves at risk to explore new worlds.” Jack was delighted. They
were talking to aliens, and the Spirit Lake Sioux had been the ones who'd pulled it off.

The media took pictures of him as he arrived, asked for comments, and stayed with him until he got into the Roundhouse, where he was greeted by the pool reporters. He said hello, commented that he was proud to be part of the operation, picked up his rifle, and made his way to the grid. The questions continued, including one asking why he was carrying a rifle. He responded “Safety first,” and pressed the arrow icon. Questions were still coming at him when the system activated. Moments later, he arrived on Eden to find George stretched out in a chair listening to an audiobook. It was midmorning there.

George smiled, looked at his watch, removed the headphones, and put them on a side table. “Glad to see you, partner.”

“Are they really monkeys?” Jack asked.

“John says they're a pretty good imitation.”

“And they wear
clothes
?”

“Well, there's only been one.
She
does. April says she's a female.”

“Any hostility?”

“No. None whatever. It even gave April some food.” He reached down on the side of the chair that Jack couldn't see and raised his rifle. “So everything's okay. Jeff and Chris should be here in about fifteen minutes. The rest of the crew started back a half hour ago. They'll be a while.”

“Okay.” Jack noticed a large puddle on the floor. “Where'd that come from?”

“Glad you reminded me. In case you get bored—”

“Yeah?”

“Don't go near the octagon, okay? It goes underwater.”

“You're kidding. How do you know?”

“Let it go. Just stay away from the icons. Like the boss says.” He started for the grid, stopped to pick up his audio equipment, and pointed at the radio, which was also on the table. “There are a couple of extra batteries here in case you need them.”

•   •   •

J
ACK
'
S
FIRST
ACT
was to call John. “Is everything okay?”

“We're fine, Jack. On our way back now. So far, at least, the aliens are friendly. Or I should say
the
alien. We've only seen one.”

“That's what George was telling me. A monkey.”

John laughed. “She was wearing a bathrobe when we first saw her. April says they tried to talk. And she has a library in her cabin.”

“A
library
?”

“Yeah. Books. They
read
, too.”

“This is not exactly what we expected, is it? Is there just one cabin?”

“We only saw the one.”

“Well, I hope they're all friendly.”

“So do I.”

“All right. I'll see you when you get here.
Cupola
out.” Jack enjoyed playing the role. He smiled and sat down, facing the door. The sweet sounds of singing birds and the wind in the trees provided a sense of exhilaration. Life was good!

He was enjoying the cool air when Chris Gold and Jeff McDermott showed up. He saw immediately that they weren't happy. Both had their hands jammed into their pockets. Their faces reflected gloom, like people who'd just experienced a seriously bad night at the casino.

“Everything okay, guys?” he asked.

“Yeah, we're good, Jack,” said Jeff. “Damned sons of bitches.”

“What's the matter?”

Chris turned angry eyes on him. “You know what happened back there, right?”

“I know they talked to a monkey.”

“First contact.”

“So what's wrong?”

“You know where we were when that was happening?”

“On the road, I guess.”

“We were a mile or so away, headed back here.”

“Why didn't you stay for the—umm, conversation?”

“Because,” said Chris, “April didn't think it was a good idea for everybody to be there. So we got sent back.”

“As a safety precaution,” added Jeff. He delivered a series of expletives.

“I'm sorry, guys. But I can understand why she did it.”

They walked directly past him. He followed them into the Cupola, where Chris pointed at the icons. “They don't want us touching these damned things either. So, if you don't mind—” He climbed onto the grid. “Please just send us home.”

Jeff got on beside him. Jack pressed the stag's head.

“Sorry, Jack,” said Chris. “It wasn't
your
fault.”

•   •   •

H
E
WASN
'
T
GOING
to let their attitude bother him. There was some open ground off to one side of the Cupola. That would be the place where field, beach, and woods all came together, where Jack would have enjoyed building a cabin. He'd been thinking about it all along, but of course it wouldn't work. He'd have no way of getting groceries, no electrical power, no way to get around. No place to go, really. He'd always dreamed of living on an island somewhere, or a mountaintop. But when the opportunity actually arrived, it no longer looked very inviting.

He clipped the radio to his belt, swung the rifle over his shoulder, and went outside into the wind. He headed for the beach.

Jack was in love with a nurse he'd met when he was taken to the hospital with a broken arm. The fracture had resulted from a collision in a baseball game. Her name was JoAnn Sanders. Unfortunately, the chemistry wasn't working on her side. Although they still dated periodically, he knew the end was coming. It was just a matter of time before she would explain why they couldn't continue. So he was enjoying her company while he could, resisting the temptation to be the one who broke things off. He couldn't help thinking, on that bright sunlit day, what life would
be like if he and JoAnn had a cabin on
this
beach. With its occasional twin moons. What a great place it would be to visit on weekends.

The surf was rolling in. He went down to the water's edge and stared at the horizon. They needed to bring a boat and find out what else was here.

•   •   •

A
PRIL
CALLED
. T
HEY
were four hours away.

“What did it feel like talking to a monkey?” he asked.

“She's not a monkey, Jack. I'm not sure what she is, except that I think she's as smart as we are. And I don't think we should be talking about monkeys when we get back.”

“Okay,” he said. It was a little late to head that off. “What did she have to say?”

“It's a little hard to communicate. But she let me know I was welcome. Told me her name, waved at everybody, and invited us back.”

“She doesn't speak English, does she? How'd you manage all that?”

“A lot of communication is nonverbal, Jack. You can read people pretty well from expressions, their eyes, their tone, you name it.”

“But monkeys aren't people.”

“This one is.”

He didn't like the accusatory tone she was taking. And he guessed she'd had no problem picking up the nonverbals from Jeff and Chris. “I wouldn't think you'd be able to do much interpretation with a gorilla, though. I mean—” He tried to imagine himself walking up to one of the animals and saying hello.

“I know what you mean, Jack. And in case I didn't make it clear, Solya's not a gorilla.”

•   •   •

H
E
WAS
BACK
staring at the ocean, thinking how magnificent it would be if he spotted a ship out there somewhere. Another historic moment. Jeff and Chris would probably get annoyed about that, too. The thought seemed cruel, but he couldn't resist smiling.

Something that resembled a crab with six spindly legs came out of the water. It moved steadily along just out of reach of the incoming waves, inspecting shells.

Jack sat down near the beach on the edge of the forest and watched the sun climb higher. It was getting warm, so he moved farther back to get some shade. He'd just gotten resettled when he saw movement in some trees near the Cupola. Something wearing olive-colored short pants and a gray shirt came out into the clearing. Another monkey. Or whatever we're calling them. But this one clearly wasn't a female. He briefly considered showing himself, waving, and saying hello. But that idea vanished quickly as he got a better look. The animal was a good bit bigger than he was. And it did not look friendly. Fortunately, Jack was carrying his rifle.

The thing walked easily, straight up, relaxed, chewing on something. It appeared to be wearing a necklace. And sandals. Jack squeezed down lower into the bushes, hoping he hadn't been seen. It strolled across the field toward the Cupola and paused before the front door. And Jack saw with horror that the door was
ajar
. He hadn't closed it. It put a claw, or a hand, against it and pushed. It opened, and the creature went inside.

He had to make sure it did no damage. But he didn't know how it would respond to him. And he didn't want to have to shoot something wearing clothes. Killing it was against the protocol anyhow.
What the hell do I do?
If it broke something, they might all be stranded on Eden.

The open door was probably what had drawn the animal in the first place. Stupid. He thought about firing a shot into the air, but that seemed more likely to cause it to hole up in there than to come out. Damn it.

He kept the rifle pointed toward the ground. Oh, Lord, he did not want to get into a fight with this thing. We make first contact and on the same day kill one of the aliens. How could he ever explain that to the chairman? Finally, he took a deep breath, came out of the trees, and approached the door at an angle that eventually allowed him to see inside. The gorilla was looking at the transporter.

Jack raised his right arm. “Hello!”

The creature flinched and turned in his direction. For a long moment, it remained still. Then it took a few steps as if to come out. But it stopped just inside the entrance, its eyes fixed on him. It took hold of the door.

Please. Don't close it.

It pulled the door shut.

Jack called John. “What do I do?”

“Maybe it would be a good idea to just get out of sight for a while.”

“Suppose it breaks something in there? I was hoping I could scare it off with the rifle.”

“It probably doesn't know what a rifle is.”

“Can it open the door from the inside? Or does it need the gloves?”

Then he heard April's voice: “It can open the door if you ask him nice,” she said. “Listen, Jack, I hate to ask you to do this, but you're going to have to go do it for him, open the door, then just back out of the way. Don't make any aggressive moves. If you don't scare him, or threaten him, I think you'll be okay.”

“You
think
?”

“No guarantees, kid. How'd he get in there in the first place?”

“I guess somebody must have left the door open.”

“Good move.”

All right. Stalling wasn't going to get the job done.

April again: “Leave the transmitter on so we can hear what's happening.”

“Okay.” He walked to the door and knocked gently. “Hello,” he said, raising his voice slightly. Trying to sound friendly. “You mind if I open up?”

He heard something he couldn't understand, not a growl, maybe just a grumble.

Then April was back: “Jack, I wasn't thinking. Its word for ‘hello' is
shalay
.”

“You don't happen to have the word for ‘friend,' do you?”

“Unfortunately not.”

“Okay.” Jack faced the door. “
Shalay
, old buddy.” It occurred to him that
old buddy
might translate into a threat. He raised his voice: “I'm going to open up, pal.” He heard movement inside as he reached out and touched the pad. Pressed it. Then he backed off as the door opened. The creature was just a few feet away.

He lifted his left hand. “Shalay.”

It stood a few feet back from the door, watching him.

“What's happening?” asked April.

“It's standing in there looking at me.”

“Wave.”

“What?”

“Wave at him. You know, friendly gesture.”

Jack raised his right hand, palm open. “Hi.
Shalay.
”

The creature said something back.

“Jack,” said April, “where's your rifle?”