Destroyer from the Lost Planet, page 3
To Catharine, addressing the boss’s wife by her first name seemed more than a bit presumptuous.
Evidently, Missus Simmons had read her thoughts. “What’s the matter?” asked the older woman. “Is it the difference in our ages?”
Catharine chuckled. “Not exactly. It’s more that even the admiral doesn’t refer to you as Betty. He refers to you as ‘Missus Simmons.’”
“Well,” said Betty, “that may be the way he refers to me, but in addressing me, he calls me Betty.” She searched her memory. “And I can recall once or twice when he’s muttered a few less flattering names under his breath.”
Catharine smiled. “Okay. Betty it is.”
Betty smiled back in a motherly way. “So, what are your plans with the professor?”
“I suppose I should have some plans with him,” said Catharine, “shouldn’t I?”
Betty blushed. “Well, it’s hardly my place to—”
“No, that’s quite alright,” said Catharine. “We … well, we haven’t discussed long-term plans.”
Betty looked at her forbearingly. “I suppose things are a bit different nowadays. The truth is, there’s never been a regular schedule for discussing long-term plans—at least, not during my lifetime.” She sighed. “Quite haphazard, really. I suppose when you’re flying all over the world doing intelligence work, and the professor’s on Inanna’s … spaceship, or whatever they call it—there’s even less of a timetable—or even an opportunity—for romance.” She rubbed her hands together and regarded Catharine sympathetically. “You do love him, don’t you?”
Catharine was truly touched by the fond interest taken by this kind woman. “It’s obvious. Isn’t it?”
Betty smiled devilishly. “Yes,” she barked and then leaned in confidentially. “But it’s equally obvious that he’s nuts about you.”
“Well, you know,” said Catharine with a sigh, “he’s a widower.”
“How long has it been since she passed?”
“Two … three years.”
Betty waved dismissively. “It’s not the deceased one I’d be concerned about; it’s that tramp up there in orbit. Have you at least staked your claim?”
Catharine came up empty. “Just how would one do that in a situation like this?”
“You need to get him alone,” replied Betty. “Will you two be traveling together soon?”
“Um … yes, I think so,” replied Catharine, anticipating a joint trip to the virtual-reality facility, wherever that was. “Pretty soon.”
Betty sighed. “You must consider what you’ll say to the professor. These men,” she said, shaking her head in exasperation, “if we left it to them, nothing important would ever happen.”
Chapter 3
Lord Enki had summoned David to appear at his chambers at a prescribed hour.
Learning of the appointment, Doctor Zia told David that Enki was known to speak loudly enough to be heard in the hallway, and so cautioned him to avoid taking the elevator to Enki’s floor more than five minutes prior to the scheduled appointment.
David forced himself to heed Zia’s advice, despite his wish to avoid keeping Enki waiting.
Precisely four and one-half minutes before his appointment, David pressed the button to summon the elevator and waited impatiently for the car to arrive. Fortunately, the wait was not long.
He got in and pressed the button for Enki’s floor. Before the car moved, the elevator performed a retinal scan and said, “Good morning, Excellency,” which was the appropriate form of address for an ambassador. David surmised by the tone of the disembodied voice that its greeting was intended to elicit a vocal response, no doubt so David’s voice could be matched to a voiceprint. David wondered what would happen if he declined to speak, so he stood in silence.
What happened was … nothing. The elevator didn’t move. So much for taciturnity as a tactic of resistance. “Good morning, computer,” he said at last.
Without another word, the elevator swooshed up to Enki’s floor. As soon as David got out, the doors closed and the car went on its way. Evidently, no further conversation was required.
David walked down the hall and gazed up at the bejeweled greeting above the double doors to Enki’s chambers. As he was about to reply with the required assurance that he harbors no malice, Enki’s voice boomed angrily in his chamber, penetrating into the hallway.
“Do you have any idea how dangerous it was to have my urgent summons go unanswered by our fighters?” demanded Enki.
Several baritone voices responded at once with different phrases all meaning one thing: Extremely dangerous.
Enki’s voice boomed out, “Do you know how humiliating it was to have my own pilots fail to respond to my emergency call?”
Quite humiliating, said the men, each in his own idiom.
For some reason, Enki had chosen this moment to rebuke his generals. As their failure to respond to his distress signal had occurred several days earlier, David assumed that some sort of investigation (or at least an important milestone) had just reached its conclusion. Whatever the reason for Enki’s timing of the rebuke, David felt certain he was not supposed to be overhearing it. He’d decided to return to the elevator when a door down the hall opened and Doctor Zia emerged, looking pale and a bit sweaty.
“David,” called Zia in a hoarse whisper, gesturing for him to wait.
Smiling wanly, Zia approached, placed his hand on David’s back, and escorted him to the elevator, where he pressed the button. “Let’s go to the commissary,” he whispered. “Lord Enki knows you’re here. He’ll call me when he’s finished with … present business, and we can return then”—Zia glanced over his shoulder and sighed anxiously—“whenever that might be.”
The elevator arrived. Instead of pressing the button for the commissary floor, Zia said, “Elevator, take us to the commissary.”
“Yes, doctor,” said the elevator. “It’s good to see you.” After a pause, the elevator added: “And you, too, Excellency.”
David ignored the mechanical voice and cleared his throat. “I take it that the fighters’ response was delayed by some sort of breakdown in communications.” To his consternation, the chatty elevator replied, “I’m sure I wouldn’t know, Excellency.”
David let his irritation show, and Doctor Zia took the point immediately. “Elevator, silence!” said Zia. Turning to David, he said, “It’s not clear just yet what caused the failure to respond to Lord Enki’s distress signal. As you can imagine, the generals are all pointing their fingers at each other, which only infuriates Lord Enki all the more.”
“As well it should,” muttered David. “Fortunately there were American fighters in the vicinity, although I understand their first contact with the enemy was touch and go.”
Zia kneaded his brow. “I’ve heard that the American fighters who first responded were fresh recruits. Is that true?”
Before David could respond, the elevator stopped and the doors sprang open. A cheerful electronic voice said, “Good morning, Your Excellency. Good morning, Doctor Zia. Enjoy your meal.”
They stepped off, and the door shut behind them. David shook his head. “That’s obtrusive.”
“What is?” asked Zia, obviously long-accustomed to talking to machines.
“Being spoken to by inanimate objects,” said David. “On Earth, people would suspect that the machines are keeping track of their movements.”
“Oh, they’re most certainly doing that,” said Zia with a shrug, “but what can one do about it?”
“I noticed the elevator obeyed when you told it to stop talking,” added David. “Can you tell it to stop listening, as well?”
Zia smirked. “I expect you can tell it that.”
David asked. “But it won’t stop listening, will it?”
Zia shook his head with an expression that said of course not.
A pretty escort appeared, bowed, and awaited instructions. It occurred to David that even she might be a machine. But then she winked at him, which put him at ease—until he realized that a machine that can be taught to seat customers can also be taught to wink at them.
“A private room for two, please,” said Zia. “Bring us coffee. After that, see that we’re not disturbed. If we need anything more, we’ll use the intercom.”
The escort bowed. “Certainly, sir,” she said and scurried off.
Zia shut the door behind them and took a seat at the table, which appeared to be made of Nibirune stonewood. With some trepidation, David took a seat across from Zia’s, imagining that the table might somehow grow a square beard and spring on him.
Zia must have read his mind. “Relax, David,” he said. “It’s just a slab of dead wood. You were about to tell me about the heroic American fighters who first responded to the call.”
“They were a Space Force practice squadron,” said David. “Although it might add romantic flair to the story if the pilots really had been fresh recruits, in fact each of them had clocked many hours on fix-winged aircraft. On the other hand, only the two squadron leaders had any combat experience. And neither of them had combat experience in the saucer craft they were flying that day, which had just been put into service. Ironically, their laser cannon had been disabled at Lord Enki’s request.”
Zia sighed and nodded wistfully. “I shudder to think that such a simple precaution might have cost us the day,” he said.
“It might have cost us both Lord Enki and the President,” David corrected him. “Incidentally, you’ve already met one of the squadron leaders.”
Zia’s eyebrows shot up. “You don’t say. Which one?”
“One of them was Buck Buchanan—”
“I remember him well!” exclaimed Zia. “He addressed the Council with … Weldon and that other chap.”
“He did,” said David with a smile, “and just after that meeting, on the way back to Earth his shuttle was attacked by one of Anzû’s fighters.”
Zia frowned. “Well, we all know how that turned out, don’t we? Well done. This Buchanan must be some pilot.”
“Indeed, he is,” said David. “As you’ll recall, he was Weldon’s pilot in escaping that nuclear blast near the North Pole.” David quietly laughed at himself for referring to Catharine as Weldon, but everyone else seemed to be calling her that.
Zia sighed long. “I expect that, someday, Lord Enki will award Buchanan a medal for bravery and excellence.” He sighed again. “For today, we’ll be lucky if his lordship doesn’t flush his own generals out into space on grounds of incompetence.”
“Incompetence?” asked David. “Is it not possible that their failure resulted from …”
“Misfeasance?” said Zia. “Lord Enki is deeply suspicious that there’s a traitor aboard, and I know from past experience that he’ll be badly out of sorts until he puts it right.”
“Does his lordship harbor any doubt that an emergency call was sent by the American radio operator?”
Zia shook his head. “No doubt. We’ve heard the recording.”
“The call came from Lorraine, right?”
“Yes, that was her name.”
“Was the signal sent on the correct frequency?”
Zia nodded. “There’s also no doubt about that,” he replied. “The real mystery arises in respect of a ‘message received’ confirmation in response to her call.”
“So, no confirmation signal was sent?”
“To the contrary,” said Zia, “the signal—just a short blip, really—was sent by someone and received by Lorraine. It’s audible on the American recording of Lorraine’s communications. But our onboard equipment shows no record of either our receipt of her emergency message or our transmission of a ‘message received’ confirmation.”
David thought for a moment. “That’s anomalous.”
“To say the least,” confirmed Zia.
“Are your radio communications routinely recorded?”
“Absolutely.”
David asked, “Was there an interruption in your recording after Lorraine sent her warning?”
“None we can readily identify,” said Zia, “although that’s a fairly technical matter, and I’m not sure our best engineers have yet taken a look at the recording.”
“Is your transmission of a ‘message received’ confirmation automated?” asked David.
“How do you mean?”
“I mean to ask: Must such a confirmation be initiated by a living person, or can it be sent by an unattended computer?”
“I don’t know,” said Zia. “What I’ve been wondering is: Wouldn’t someone receiving such a confirmation, such as Lorraine, expect such a beep to be followed by voice contact?”
“Ah, I see,” said David. He shook his head. “Not necessarily. I suppose it would depend upon what she’d been told to expect. Besides, once she saw that the American fighters had engaged the enemy squadron with success, and that an additional American squadron was about to arrive on the scene, she’d be less concerned with a response from the Anunnaki fighters, except to help avoid friendly fire incidents.”
Zia’s phone beeped and he glanced at the screen. “Our turn,” he said nervously. “Let’s go.”
Perhaps it was Enki’s impressive size, his bright aura, or the sheer strength of his voice. Whatever the reason, David had not yet become accustomed to appearing before Enki and doubted he ever would. But that’s where he was now—and he would have been at wit’s end but for Doctor Zia’s reassuring presence by his side.
“I’m sorry, ambassador,” said Enki, “that you had to hear my dressing down of my generals. That was not meant for your ears, and my timing was poor.”
David wasn’t sure whether a verbal response was required, so he bowed silently.
Enki continued. “Although I have already thanked your President and the admiral for the American response to Anzû’s dastardly attack, I wish to thank you personally for disabling a whole strain of Anzû’s drones. I know that your immediate objective was to aid Weldon, but your courageous act allowed the American forces to put down Anzû’s ground attack. For that, I will forever remain in your debt.”
David was pretty sure this called for a verbal reply. “It was my privilege to be in the right place at the right time, my lord. And, as for any indebtedness you feel to me, please apply it against a tiny portion of mankind’s tremendous indebtedness to your lordship.”
“Well spoken, ambassador,” said Enki. “As a demonstration of my favor, I have arranged for you and Weldon the privilege of taking a virtual-reality overflight of Nibiru. You have asked several times about our planet and its population, and I expect you might learn much from such an overflight.”
David smiled and bowed again. “Thank you so much for your favor in this matter, my lord. Words fail me.”
Enki smirked, emitting a sound that reminded David of a snorting bull. “Words never fail you, David. It’s your gift. Besides, don’t be too grateful. I’m informed that we lack the necessary virtual-reality equipment on this pyramidion, so you two will need to … travel.”
“If I may ask, Lord Enki,” said David, “where must we go?”
“To King Enlil’s flagship, which is a large pyramidion.”
David asked, “Even larger than this one?”
“Much larger,” said Enki. “A king requires considerably more room.”
“Where is His Majesty’s pyramidion?”
“It’s guarded by his fleet, which is presently located within the sphere of the sixth planet.”
“Lahmu?” asked David. “The planet that the Romans called Mars?”
Enki smiled. “The same.”
“It would truly be an honor to appear before King Enlil,” said David, “but our own scientists tell us that it would take as long as eight months to reach Mars, and the same amount of time to return.”
“While we have not yet learned how to exceed the speed of light,” said Enki, “we can transport you much faster than that. The trip will occupy fourteen days each way, if you’re willing to go. To keep the arithmetic simple: If you were to travel there by a craft capable of the speed of light, you’d get there about seven thousand times faster than we can send you.”
David’s jaw dropped. “But even the speed you’re capable of is … mind-boggling, my lord. What if we were to run into some … obstruction at such speeds?”
“We’ve developed techniques for collision avoidance,” said Enki with an incandescent twinkle in his eye. “You may recall a near-collision between this pyramidion and a certain … American submarine?”
David smiled and bowed again.
Enki continued. “I have no idea if King Enlil will be of a mind to entertain you, but I must caution you to expect him to look different from anyone you’ve met. For one thing, he’s larger than I. For some reason known only to the ultimate Creator, dominant males of the Anunnaki species grow physically in accordance with their rank. And there’s no greater rank amongst us than King of Nibiru.”
David nodded nervously. “Thank you for the admonition, my lord.”
“Also, King Enlil is of a military bent, far less indulgent than I,” said Enki.
“I will discuss with Weldon this favor you have granted, my lord.”
“Do so,” said Enki. “Meanwhile, I wish to mention a few other things. You need not take notes now, as a fuller report will be sent to your computer in a few minutes and you’ll be free to forward it on to the President and the admiral.”
“Is it about the journey to Mars, my lord?” asked David.
“No,” said Enki shaking his head gravely. “Rather, we believe we’ve located Anzû’s forces on Earth.”
David nodded and waited.
“We’re not certain how long he’s been on Earth,” Enki began. “It’s our belief that he was still obeying the terms of his exile (or at least had no active forces on Earth) at the time the remaining Anunnaki left the Earth, around the advent of the latest Age of Pisces.”
Doctor Zia stepped forward as he was wont to do when Enki said something unlikely to be understood by the listener. “My lord, if I may,” said Zia.
