Echo

THIRTY-ONE

She played the transmission for us. A voice with a remarkably high pitch. “It is an unknown language, Alex.”

It was almost a series of squeals. Not at all like a normal voice pattern. We listened in silence for several minutes. “That can’t be human,” I said.

“Belle, how many voices are there?”

“Only one.”

“So nobody is responding to the transmission.”

“Not that I can determine.”

“It never pauses,” said Alex.

It went on and on. “It seems more like a general broadcast,” I said, “than a two-way transmission.”

“Belle, what’s the point of origin?”

She showed us on the display. It was coming out of a string of islands in the middle of an ocean, at about thirty degrees south latitude.

“What time is it there?”

“Approaching midnight.”

“What can you see?” Alex asked.

“I’m running a scan now. There seems to be a town. A group of buildings. They’re all single-story. Small houses, apparently. But one of them seems to be illuminated.”

She showed us, and I caught my breath. There were about twenty houses in the town. With lights on in the ground floor of one.

Lights!

If they were humans, they’d been cut off a long time. But the voice certainly didn’t sound human.

When I pumped a fist and made some noise, Alex kept watching the displays. I knew what he was thinking. But I was inclined to enjoy the moment. How many people, how many Sunset Tuttles, had lived and died over the past nine thousand years, hoping for a moment like this? A glimmer of light? A radio transmission from an unknown source. A voice that was almost certainly not human. Please, God, let it be so.

“Don’t get too excited,” he said. In fact, he was having problems following his own advice. His voice sounded uneven. “We don’t know what we have yet.”

“Hey, I’m calm. You know me.”

“Absolutely.” He was staring at the house with the light.

“You think that’s where the signal’s coming from?”

“There’s an antenna. Belle, do you see any others?”

“Antennas? No, Alex.”

“That’s strange. Anything moving anywhere?”

“Other than what appears to be windblown, no.”

“The town looks run-down,” I said. We were approaching it from the east. “We going down?”

“You bet.”

“We can do it on the next pass.”

He nodded. “Let’s get ready.”

“Maybe we should radio them first? Say hello?”

“What language would you use?”

“Standard. Friendly voice. See what happens.”

Alex looked uncertain. Finally, he said okay. “You talk to them, Chase. You’d be less threatening.”

“Belle,” I said, “open a channel.”

A momentary pause. Then: “Done.”

“Hello,” I said. “This is Chase Kolpath aboard the Belle-Marie. Do you read?”

The voice stopped. Then, it answered. We had no idea what it was saying, of course, but it sounded excited.

I told it we were visitors, that we wanted to meet whoever it was, and that we were friendly. When I finished, it replied again.

I would at that moment have given anything to have been able to understand it. I explained how we’d come from Rimway, how we were curious who was speaking with us, and explained that we were going to come down to meet him, or her, and we hoped that wouldn’t be an imposition.

“It understands,” I told Alex. “It knows what’s going on.”

Alex remained cautious.

While all this was happening, we were getting into our pressure suits and preparing to leave the ship. Alex buckled on a holster and slipped his scrambler into it. “You know,” he said, “it would kill me if we actually found an alien and had to shoot him.” He leaned over the control panel. “Belle?”

“Yes, Alex?”

“Are there any other artificial structures on the island? Other than the town?”

“There are two piers. Something that is probably a boathouse. Nothing else shows any activity, however.”

“That means there’s no vehicle of any kind, either?”

“That is correct.”

“Is there a possibility there could be a lander down there, and you missed it?”

“If it’s hidden in a cave. Or buried. Otherwise, the possibility is remote.”

“Okay.” His face scrunched up the way it does when he’s trying to make up his mind. “There’s an outside possibility that after we’re on the ground, I’ll send you a message that I will want you to ignore.”

“Then why would you send it, Alex?”

“Only out of necessity.”

“And how shall I know this bogus transmission?”

“I’ll start by saying, ‘We have a problem.’”

“ ‘We have a problem’?”

“Yes. If you hear that sentence, play along. Okay?” I must have been looking at him funny. “It’s just a precaution, Chase. Until we find out who’s down there.”

We went below and climbed into the lander. I was talking to the voice the whole time. We are leaving now. Will be on the ground in an hour or so. I’m looking forward to meeting you.

When the Belle-Marie was in position, I started the engine, the launch doors opened, and we were on our way. The smaller moon was overhead, a pale, diminutive orb barely visible in the crowded sky. The bright definition of the night sky at Rimway had given way to a kind of misty blur. Too many stars out there in the Veiled Lady, too much loose gas.

Alex remained quiet on the way down. When I offered to put him on with the voice, he shook his head no. “You’re doing fine,” he said.

The rim of the second moon, the big moon, was just visible over the horizon. As we descended, it disappeared into the ocean.

“The air is breathable,” Belle said. “And there is no evidence of dangerous bioorganisms. However, I suggest you exercise due caution.”

She meant wear the pressure suit. No surprise there.

We began to pick up a bit of wind. Then the wind went away, and we drifted down through occasional clouds, and finally we emerged in clear weather above the island.

It was the largest in a chain of five or six, about eight kilometers across at its widest point. It was mostly covered by forest. There was a natural harbor. And it was generally flat save for a pair of low hills on the north side. The town was located near the hills, along the shoreline.

“There are a couple of open places in the town where we can land,” I said. “Or we can use the beach.”

“Use the beach. It feels safer.”

“We’ll have a fifteen-minute walk.”

“That’s okay.”

While we made our final approach, I kept the scope on the house with the lights. House might be a bit of an exaggeration for the structure. It was a two-story shanty, typical of the town, run-down and in need of paint, with a sagging front porch. Curtains were pulled across the windows. One of the shutters was broken. The place had a chimney, but there was no sign a fire was burning.

But Alex never looked up from the screen. And as we dropped toward the sand, he caught his breath. “Something moved inside.” He spoke in a whisper, as if concerned that he might be overheard.

I was still talking to the Martian, which was how I’d begun to think of the owner of the voice. We are coming down on the beach. See you in a few minutes. The view out here is magnificent.

“Look,” said Alex.

“What?” He was pointing at the screen while I tried to make sure we didn’t land in the ocean.

“Belle, rerun that last segment.”

We were looking at the house. And a shadow moved across the curtains.

I couldn’t believe this was actually happening. We’d known all along that maybe this was what Rachel had found, that she had come across someone.

Something.

When I shut off the engine, the gravity came back. My weight jumped by about seventeen pounds. Alex’s went up by roughly twenty-seven. It’s a feeling you never get used to.

I released my belt. “We’re here,” I told the Martian.

Alex was surveying the outside. Moonlight. Incoming tide. Forest. “But no movement.”

“Alex, what do you expect? He couldn’t understand a word I said.”

I told him we were coming, that we’d be there in a few minutes. We put our helmets on and went for the airlock. With a hole cut through the outer hatch, it was of dubious value. We got into it as quickly as possible and closed the inner hatch. (Belle would check to ensure that no dangerous bioorganisms had gotten into the cabin.) The sound of insects and the rumble of the tide were audible through the hole in the outer hatch. I opened up.

The beach was narrow. Long lines of waves were rolling in. Alex insisted on going out first. He stood in the hatch, and I asked whether he had a memorable comment to make before he took his first historic steps.

“Sure,” he said. “Let’s hope that the place is friendly.” He climbed down. Having learned my lesson, I closed the hatch before following him. There was something about the beach that left me not wanting to keep talking. But I didn’t think it would be a good idea to sign off. Keeping the conversation going seemed like the right approach. So I simply lowered my voice and said that we were on the beach and were getting ready to enter the forest. And what a beautiful island it is. The sand was damp, and we both sank a bit. Seaweed and shells were scattered around. We got our bearings, which consisted of Alex pointing into the woods, and saying, “That way.” But he had an impeccable sense of direction.

We switched on our wrist lamps, crossed the beach, and plunged into the trees. Some were hardwood, others were a bright green, with pliable trunks and branches, and long, spear-shaped leaves. They seemed permanently damp, and I recalled the predator plants on Echo II. It’s not a good idea to make unnecessary noise while walking through a strange forest. I told the Martian I was going to disconnect for the moment. “Will see you shortly.”

He replied with enthusiasm, the voice rising to an even higher pitch.

Getting through the woods wasn’t easy, but at least nothing made a grab for us, although the foliage covered the ground so thickly we had trouble finding our way.

There were thick bushes, some with bright flowers of various colors. (It seemed too cold for flowers.)

Something growled in the treetops, and occasionally we heard movement. I touched my scrambler. Good sense of security there.

Alex grumbled that maybe he’d been wrong, and we should have landed in the middle of the town. “No more night hikes,” he said.

“Promise?”

Belle broke in: “The light just went off.”

“Okay. Thanks, Belle.”

And, seconds later: “It’s back on again. But a different room this time.”

Eventually, we broke out into the town.

The houses did not look as if anyone had lived in them for a long time. Rooftops were worn away. Stairs had collapsed. In some places, vegetation had begun to overwhelm the structures.

They were not arranged in any kind of symmetry. There was no appearance of streets. They were simply scattered across an open area at random.

And there, along the edge of the forest, was the light.

It filled the windows at the back of the house. The rest of the building was dark. Alex checked his link: The light we’d seen from orbit had been in the front windows.

I was about to speak to the Martian again, to tell him we were there, but Alex indicated I should stay quiet.

Curtains were partially drawn. He signaled for me to keep back. “Be careful,” he said.

“Okay.” We were whispering.

We walked quietly up to the window and looked in.

Something sat in a chair with its back to us. It was decidedly not human. I saw a fur-covered skull with raised ridges and horns. And long claws. But it wore a robe, and it was reading a book. One wall had been converted into bookshelves. Music was coming from somewhere. It was rhythmic, pensive, sensuous.

I think my eyes were coming out of my head.

Then Alex pressed my shoulder. “That’s odd.”

“You mean that he’s not out looking for us?”

“Look at the books.”

“What about them?” Alex turned away and studied the woods. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Stay close.” He started to remove his helmet.

“Alex,” I said, “what are you doing?”

“Belle says we don’t need it. Why wear it?”

“She suggested we take no chances.”

“My feeling exactly.” He put the helmet down and began to climb out of the suit, unsnapping the wrist lamp and putting it into a pocket.

“Whatever you say.”

“You too,” he said.

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“Alex, what’s going on?”

“I’m not sure. Get out of your suit.”

I removed it and took a deep, but tentative, breath. A cold forest has a distinctive scent, even when half the trees look as if they’re made out of green rubber. That place had it, too.

My head spun momentarily, and he asked if I was okay.

“I’m fine,” I said.

“Okay. If you feel ill or anything, let me know.”

We put both pressure suits behind trees, well away from the house. “It’s not an appropriate way to show up,” he said. “We don’t want to scare our host.”

“I suppose that makes sense.”

The front door looked as if it had been yellow or orange before the color faded. It had probably matched the shutters and would have given the place a faerie-like appearance. The door was about the same size as a door back home. And the house’s dimensions generally could have accommodated human occupants.

Alex looked around. “All right,” he said. “Now listen, Chase. I want you to do what I say.”

“Okay.”

“Get behind that tree over there. Stay there until I call you.”

“Alex—”

“Do what I say. If there’s a problem here, get back to the lander and leave. You got that?”

“Alex, whatever happens, I’m not going to leave you here. What are you so worried about?”

“Just bear with me.” He gave me an encouraging smile. “Now, get behind your tree.”

I saw no imminent danger. Even the alien with the books seemed unlikely to attack. Scream and run into the woods, maybe. But, despite the claws, I couldn’t imagine its coming after us. That was naive, I suppose. But that’s where my instincts were. I picked a tree and got behind it.

When I was safely out of the way, Alex turned back to the door, knocked on it, and stepped back a few paces.

I listened to the insects and the surf and the wind in the branches.

Lights came on in the front room. And another one over the door, outlining Alex. The door opened.

The creature stood behind it. He looked down at Alex with large golden eyes that were almost gregarious. The thing had feline features, and was only slightly taller than he was. If there was anything disquieting about the occupant, any sense of implied threat, it went away when it closed the book, tucked it under one arm, raised its left claw in greeting, and said something in that high-pitched voice. It sounded almost like hello. I wanted to go over and introduce myself.

First contact, baby.

Then Alex did a strange thing: He took the wrist lamp out of his pocket, snapped it on, and pointed it at the Martian. A moment later, he turned and sprinted away. Behind him, the cottage erupted.

The ground and the tree shook with the force of the blast. I pressed myself against the trunk. Burning chunks of wood crashed into the trees. When it was over, and heavy smoke was boiling out of the hole in the ground where the cottage had been, I looked for Alex. He was flat on the ground. Unmoving. Branches and bushes behind him were burning.

I ran to him, expecting the worst. But he raised one hand and waved me back.

I dropped at his side. “I’m okay,” he whispered. His clothes were burned, and in fact one sleeve was on fire. I scooped up some dirt and threw it against the flames until they went out. His face was blackened.

He got to his feet, and we stumbled away.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Chase,” he said. “Get back where you were. Keep your scrambler ready.”

“What—?”

“I’m all right.” He turned on his link. “Belle—” His voice shook with sudden emotion. He was trying to hold back tears. “We have a problem.”

Belle’s voice cut through the night. “What’s wrong, Alex?”

“Chase—” He sounded as if he were choking. “Chase is dead.”

My first reaction was that something had hit his head during the explosion. When I opened my mouth to ask him what the hell was going on, he waved frantically at me to stay quiet.

I did.

“I’m burned,” he said. “Going to try to get back to the lander. Not sure I can.”

“Can I do anything, Alex?”

“No. I wish you could, Belle. Chase was just outside the building when it blew, God help her.”

He broke the connection. Then he was walking toward the smoking ruin and calling my name. “Chase—” His voice broke, and he sobbed. “Chase, I told you to wait for me, didn’t I? I told you—” He picked up a rock and threw it high into the trees. Then he sank to his knees and burst into tears.

He was good. I’ll give him that. He could have had a career with the Seaside Players. He was still down, still gasping, when someone walked past me, never saw me, and strode up behind Alex. “Mr. Benedict, I believe?”

The guy was small, middle-aged, with a congenial smile. He wore a StarCorps jacket that was two sizes too big for him, and he struck me as a man you’d be more likely to find in a library than in a forest.

Alex stood, stared at him with empty eyes. “You killed her, you son of a bitch.” He stared at the wreckage. “Why?”

The congenial smile widened. He produced a blaster and replied in a gentle voice: “I’m sorry about all this, Mr. Benedict. Nothing personal, you understand. It’s strictly business.”

“Business?” Alex took a step forward. But the weapon was pointed at his head. Not that it would have mattered with a blaster at that range.

“I’m sure she was a nice lady. Pity, sometimes, what we have to do to get by.” He shrugged.

“You speak Standard,” Alex said.

“Yes.”

“Who are you? How do you happen to be here?”

“I’m Alex Zakary.” He was looking closely at Alex, examining him. “We have the same first name, don’t we? But excuse me, you said you were burned. How badly? You seem well enough.”

“Did you plant the bomb?”

“Yes. I’m afraid I’m the culprit.”

“Why?”

“It’s my profession, Mr. Benedict. I am sorry. And I regret the loss of your assistant, but she really wasn’t very bright. Though I suppose we shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”

“Who’s paying you?”

“I’m sure you can—” He stopped. “You really aren’t injured, are you? Your arm a little bit. But that’s all. What did you do? Send her in first? Just to be safe?”

“Who’s paying you?”

“If you’re okay, then it seems I cannot trust anything you say.” He backed away from Alex and took a quick look over his shoulder. In my general direction. “Where is she?”

“Where’s who?”

“Have it your own way.” He put his back against a tree and raised the weapon. “Good-bye, Mr. Benedict.”

It was enough for me. I was standing there with the scrambler aimed at the middle of his back. When he said good-bye to Alex, I pulled the trigger. Zakary half turned in my direction. A look of regret almost made it into those quietly contented features. Then he crumpled.

Alex hurried to his side. He got the blaster out of his hand and rolled him over. “Thanks, Chase.”

“A professional killer. I thought they only existed in antique novels.”

He bent down and frowned. Checked for a heartbeat and picked up his wrist. After a moment, a puzzled expression came into his face. “There’s no pulse,” he said.

“That can’t be—” I checked the scrambler. And saw that it was still set for lethal. I’d forgotten! Well, if you want the truth, I wasn’t all that sorry.