A.R.Yngve
ALIEN BEACH

Chapter Thirteen

DAY 68

The soldier was sworn into the Church of Ranmotani together with a handful of other new recruits - a sea baptism on the beach, led by Regional Elder Tanii and accompanied by more chanting from several hundred assembled cult members.

All the same.

All happy.

All loving each other.

Now the soldier was one of them, his head shaved, dressed in a crimson-red monk's robe, plain sandals on his feet. The Regional Elder proclaimed to the new initiates that they were receiving blessings from Ranmotani; the cultists chanted with joy in response, dancing together on the beach. But there was not a single Sirian in sight.

It briefly reminded the soldiers of his days in the army. That community had been based on love of the homeland, and hatred of whoever the "enemy" happened to be. Now he was part of a family based on love of the Sirians, and of each other. He felt dazed and happy - though he suffered recurring urges to shout obscenities and run away from the crowd. The baptism was over; scores of cultists hugged him and the other initiates warmly, congratulating them. The soldier kept looking for Patty's face - but all faces looked the same here.

Only at dusk after too much chanting and praying, when he staggered to his tent, did Patty show up. She disrobed in a single movement, smiled invitingly and lay down with him. He guessed it was a gesture of reward, on behalf of the church... and he accepted it. When the soldier was shaken awake early the next morning, Patty was already up and away. The group overseer shouted at him to get up and get to work.

DAY 69

"This is World News with Veronica Palazzi..."

"In a surprise move, the governments of Saudi Arabia and Iran today signed a military pact between them, that includes a common defense policy against what they call 'extraterrestrial invasion'. Ever since these major oil powers recently left the United Nations, this alliance has been rumored. Since both countries acquired their own nuclear arsenals just before the Sirian landings, the new pact has completely overturned the previous balance of power and deterrence.

"The smaller powers of the region are now in a unique situation: Iraq and Kuwait, bitter enemies, find themselves squeezed between Saudis and Iranians and may now be forced into each other arms. And Israel, the third nuclear power in the region, has cut itself off from the United Nations as well as from American support. It may now face a combined nuclear threat of the two former rivals. An expansion of the pact to include Israel seems unlikely."

Kuwait City, Kuwait.

As seen from the airplane, the desert was still flecked with old soot. Not so long ago, Saddam Hussein's armies had set the vast oilfields on fire, sending black smoke across the entire region.

Carl asked the Sirians why they had chosen Kuwait this time. Ranmotanii and Oanss could easily count several reasons. They had seen TV broadcasts about the Gulf War, even as their solar-sail ship was on its way; it was one of the more advanced desert Arab countries with the close sea proximity the Sirians craved; and it would serve as a resting-stop before they continued to Egypt. The destination of Egypt hadn't been overtly mentioned before, yet somehow Lazar had all the time felt it would - considering the previous probing of Earth 6,000 years before. Naturally, he thought, the Sirians would be curious to see

what had become of the once-great culture of the Nile. Before the Osprey could land at the U.S. Air Force base in Kuwait City - the plane's official nationality was American - a radio message reached the pilot. He asked Carl Sayers to respond directly. Carl made his way to the small cockpit and took a headset.

"Carl Sayers of the ECT, speaking."

"Is this link secured? Okay. Hello, Mr. Sayers, this is General Jack T. Rappaport, commander of the U.S. airbase here in Kuwait City. I got the news just an hour ago. You're really coming down with a delegation of Sirians, are you?"

"Um, the news is confirmed, General. It's me, a few others of the scientist team, and seven of the Sirian visitors on the plane. Is anything the matter?"

"Well, sir, I've been briefed on the deal with the aliens... free to visit any place on Earth, clearance with the U.N. Security Council and the President, but... this country barely comes under the Security Council's jurisdiction. I would strongly recommend you to rethink -"

"General, the last time I checked, Kuwait was still a member of the United Nations."

"Sure - just barely. For God's sake, have you seen the news today? Oil prices are plummeting all over the world, all because of your amphibian friends. The Arabs are scared shitless that the aliens will reveal advanced power-sources that'll make oil as obsolete as burning wood. If the Kuwaiti public would learn that the hated Sirians are landing on their soil, they'll demand that Kuwait leaves the U.N. and all American troops are thrown out! You could start a new Gulf War here!"

"I see... General, we have already plotted an alternative landing-site on the U.S. aircraft-carrier off the coast. We will take that route for now, and I'll return to you later. I promise I will put forward your advice to the Sirians. Thank you very much."

"Sayers, I've got nothing against extraterrestrials. But you've got to reckon with the reality of the situation here."

"Yes, of course. Bye."

Carl gave the pilot the order to head for the aircraft-carrier, and went to explain the situation to the Sirians.

The Sirians were not surprised to hear of the danger. As before, they expressed no worry; it seemed foolish of them to be so fearless. But for once they accepted the denial without discussion. Carl quickly informed the President over the phone, then discussed the matter with the other three scientists.

"Could it be that they counted on being refused?" he probed, thinking out loud. "Sort of testing the waters, seeing how far they could go with us?"

"They might have had all kinds of reasons to visit an Arab country which had figured in a televised war," Ann said. "It doesn't prove anything particular."

"Why is it that they never seem to make advance plans with us?" Takeru said, taking the others by surprise. He had barely spoken at all to them during the journey, mostly been photographing and recording the Sirians in travel. He could no longer resist the urge to voice his thoughts.

"Is it possible," he speculated, "that they have become victims of their own technology? They have robots of all sizes, taking care of all their needs... probably no sickness, no schools, instant knowledge at the press of a button or a thought signal... could it have made them clumsy, even dumb, when they face a new culture that has none of their comforts?"

"That does sound credible, Takeru," Carl said. "I wouldn't take too much about them for certain. Maybe - this might sound crazy to you - we could try appealing to their machines rather than to the Sirians themselves."

It didn't sound crazy to Lazar or Takeru; Ann didn't voice her disagreement, for fear of sounding too emotional. The sign FASTEN SEATBELTS blinked above the doorway to the cockpit. They all - Sirians included - buckled up.

Machines, machines everywhere, but not a drop to drink, Carl thought absentmindedly. Would we be human without them...

DAY 70

Gizeh, Egypt.

It proved a complicated process to get the Sirian group safely out into the desert, without undue attention from tourists. The Sirians were expressly uncomfortable with the region's dryness and heat - yet they insisted on visiting the pyramids and the Sphinx personally, or they would immediately return back to Alien Beach. Their interest seemed almost obsessive. Lazar was proud over his country's ancient heritage, and the Sirians' interest in it.

Still, he asked his teammates rhetorically: "Would such advanced creatures even bother coming to Earth in person? Why the risk and cost?"

It wasn't that mankind's culture in itself was of any intrinsic value to the Sirians. Human technology was ridiculously primitive by comparison - not to mention loud, smelly, and unsubtle. The Sirians did not care to explain their demand. They simply pursued it, and got what they wanted: a visit.

At nighttime, the pyramids and the Sphinx were eerily illuminated by yellow floodlights, which accentuated every crack and crevice of the withered sandstone. With no tourists allowed nearby, the scientists and the seven Sirians followed the government guides past the monuments. First, they stopped nearby the Sphinx. It was huge this close, dwarfing even the tall extraterrestrials into a kind of humility. Silently, they studied the corroded body and head, walking slowly and without undue haste. The aliens' feet were bare on the hard gravel and sand, at the least to the human eye. Lazar had been silent during the journey from Kuwait to Egypt; now he couldn't contain himself. He had to know.

"Ranmotanii, please tell us the truth about Egypt. Was there a great culture, a big city, here - before these pyramids were built?"

The old Sirian studied him with his eyes open wide, now that the sun wasn't distracting them. Their very size, the blackness of their pupils, the myriad capillaries made Lazar feel faint and small. After a long moment, Ranmotanii opened his mouth and sang an answer.

"Maany aanswerss cann wwwe mmmake to yourr quuestionn... orrr liiike sso: ffor twennty-fiive thouusannd yearrs at llleast... waas theere aa ccity or aa laarrge culltuure hhere. Ssometimmes thee ciity wass abandonnned. Sommetimess iit was ruuined. Soometimmes therre waas a wwwar. Buut the Sphhinx wass uused duriing aall thhat timmme. Llazar... Yyou undeerstand thhhis? Thee Sphhinx waas used ass lonng aas humaans wwere hhhere?"

"Yes, Ranmotanii. Thank you! Thank you so much."

"You'rre wellcommme."

Lazar felt so grateful he could cry - and he hadn't even been hoping for this information, though it felt so important. Carl took Lazar's arm and brought him out of the range of the cameras, to spare him public embarrassment.

"Please get a hold of yourself, Lazar," he asked softly. "We are representing others than ourselves. You almost fell into tears there."

"Sorry, Carl. I don't know what came over me. But they just opened up history for me - their perspective is so much longer than anything humanity's got."

"I agree. But we're here to find out about them, not ourselves. We shouldn't let them divert us like that."

"But you will find out about yourself, Carl. We all will."

Something about Lazar's strange off-hand comment made Carl shiver. He blamed the freezing desert night.

"Over here!" the guide shouted. "Here is the path that leads to the pyramid entrances..."

DAY 71

The soldier's old migraine was coming back, as before the first visions - only without the visions.

No vivid images and experiences forced themselves into his brain - just dull, dumb pain. Deeply missing the visions he wondered, hazily, why they had stopped so soon. He briefly thought of asking the Regional Elder, who always claimed he had a unique mental link to the Sirians. Then again, why should the soldier bother his brothers and sisters with those insignificant visions of his old life? There was a greater vision guiding his life now, the vision shared to them by the illuminated Regional Elder. And everyone loved each other - though hardly physically, because there seemed to be no energy left for such things. Every day meant hard work, chanting and praying, then a deep sleep of exhaustion.

There were no more visions. They had ended, and the soldier came to a conclusion: he had finally done what his Sirian benefactors wanted, when he had joined the Church of Ranmotani. He still wondered how it had been done - if there had been a science behind the visions, it was beyond his grasp.

His headache increased, and he had to ask for medical help from the overseer.

DAY 74

Bulawayo, Zimbabwe.

The city of circular ruins on the African savannah had been around for - there were no good theories anymore, because even the Sirians confessed they didn't know for sure. Their automatic space-probes, they said, didn't date back that far - a fact that made the circular ruins seem even more impressive. All they could tell Carl Sayers was that the visible ruins were built on a much older, underground foundation. Carl suppressed his personal anger over previous generations of European scientists, who had either claimed "Negroes" were too primitive to have built the city, or that the ruins were not that old anyway.

The visible ruins, like the pyramids of Egypt, might well be a small remnant of a previous culture, now turned to dust. So many cultures, so many generations had existed before the present, that their traces made up part of the very ground that the group walked on.

The Sirians took their time walking around the ruined city, the ancient cobblestone pathways, feeling the dark stones, probing with their instruments. Some of them closed their eyes and put devices over their heads, seemingly sinking into waking dreams of another time. Takery tried asking them if they saw images from back when the ruins were a living city, but got no definite answer. The Sirians kept a lot of secrets for no apparent reason; Takeru began to wonder if they would ever share them with mankind. He decided to attempt something desperate, telling himself he was acting as a citizen and patriot.

"Moanossoans!"

The tall, talkative female amphibian had been straying a bit apart from the rest of the group, and he had followed her to a clearing.

"Yyyes?"

"Look, Moanossoans... look at the beautiful flowers growing over there!" He felt like an utter fool as he pointed out the dry flowers growing in the cool shadow of a black ruin wall. "Do you want me to pick some of them for you?"

"Is iit allowwwed?" she asked, eyeing the flowers curiously.

"Yes, no problem. Wait here."

Takeru nervously hurried across a ruined street-crossing, snatched a half dozen small, purple-and-white flowers from the ground, then returned to the much taller Moanossoans and offered her the bouquet. She took it at arm's length, punched a knob on her metallic vest, and seemed to listen for a second. Then she smiled down at the shorter Takeru with her wide, thick lips, and made a rapid clicking-noise. Her already half-closed eyes narrowed further.

"Whhy do yyou diiid liike sso?" she asked.

"Because... because I like Sirians. I like your people. And to do like so, is one way of showing I like you."

She did not put the flowers under her nasal openings to take a sniff - Takeru assumed her sense of smell was so good she didn't have to. But there was the slightest stir of her nasal openings...

"Explaaain howw you llike mmy peopllle..."

"I want to be like your people. I want to be near your people, and do the things you do. I... envy you. Do you know that word - 'envy'?"

He looked around him - no, the others hadn't gone looking for them just yet. At length she nodded, once.

"Yyyes... envvvy."

Moanossoans suddenly devoured the bunch of flowers, stalks and all, chewed them thoughtfully, and swallowed with an audible gulp.

"Veryy good food, like you mmade oon Alieeen Beachh. Thhank yooou vvvery muchh, Takeruuu..."

She gave him a quick smile - too quick - then turned and walked rapidly off down a path where the rest of group had went away. Takeru was no social genius, but he knew a brush-off from a pretense of ignorance. He wanted to kick himself; that female had seemed the most easygoing of them all, yet she had seen through his feeble act of flattery at once...

"Where you been?" Carl asked Takeru when the Japanese engineer returned, a minute after Moanssoans had joined her group.

"I just had to take a leak," Takeru lied. "Are we staying here all day?"

"I'm not sure. They're already talking about the next place they want to stop by."

"Europe?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

"It doesn't take an Einstein to figure that out."

Ann could stand the blistering African heat; she was wearing her straw hat. Even the amphibians were starting to wear them, much to the amusement of some humans. She hated ruins. They only made her think of death, decay, and oblivion. There was so much life, so much activity and growth they could be studying instead... but the Sirians kept dragging the group on these morbid excursions to dead civilizations. She couldn't keep her discontent silent for much longer.

DAY 76

Rome, Italy.

Ann: "It's creepy, the way they take pictures and use their instruments on the old ruins."

Lazar: "All the other tourists do."

Ann: "It just creeps me out, don't ask me why."

Lazar: "We need to discuss this later. I'll get back to you."

Ann asked Oanss his opinion of the sights of the 2000-year-old Roman ruins: white marble columns, restored wall mosaics, and worn-down, white cobblestone roads lined with tall pines.

Oanss told her it reminded him of all the other dead cultures he had seen before... images of Earth from Sirian space-probe images, thousands of years old. She asked him how ancient the oldest dead, great culture on Earth was, and its location. He told her Egypt, twenty-five thousand years ago - to his knowledge. The foundations of the circular Zimbabwe ruins were older but he didn't know exactly how old.

A terrible thought came over Ann.

"How long do you think my culture will last, before it becomes ruins like Egypt or Zimbabwe?"

Oanss made a face somewhat like a child being suddenly frightened, and croaked something she could not make out. He walked away from her, huddling like he had never done before. It was answer enough. The obsessive recording and recording of data... the breakneck-speed tour around the globe... the fixation with ruins of cultures once discovered while still active... there was only one reason why the Sirians were in such a hurry to learn all they could about mankind.

She had to warn Carl.

"I've been talking this over with Ranmotanii before," Carl explained to her. Ann was on the verge of tears, and her hands trembled as she held her coffee-cup.

"D-do you think he would have given it to us straight, huh?" she said angrily. "Right up in our faces: 'Earthlings, you're doomed! Now say cheese, so we can get some nice postcards of your civilization - before it crumbles, just like every other culture you ever built!' Do you think he would say that?"

"No - and he didn't. But he assured me that they aren't invaders, waiting to take over. Their culture is inherently nomadic, so they expect settled cultures to die out in time - it's natural for nomads to assume that."

"What bloody difference does it make? We're doomed anyway -"

Carl grabbed Ann's hands, commanding her attention.

"Ann, Ann, calm down! Mankind as a whole is not doomed. What he meant - what I think he meant - was that if cultures settle down in one place for too long, they will die out - whether it's a city or a planet doesn't matter. So if mankind stays on the move, we're practically safe! You know I've always supported the drive to colonize space..."

"Yeah... yeah. I understand."

"Good. Now, even if the Sirians won't share their nuclear-powered spaceship-drive with us, or explain how they built that huge solar-sail... at least their example will inspire humanity. So we're not doomed - only those of us who are stuck in the mud."

She nodded, sobbing slightly.

"You mean those who will not be inspired... those who will only feel threatened... who will respond like settled peoples have always responded to nomads..."

"Yes. True. There is a real risk of war, and it's getting more obvious by the day. Believe it or not, the fleet that surrounds Alien Beach is there to protect the Sirians from attack, not the opposite."

"Yeah. Thanks, Carl."

She wiped her eyes, and just for an instant Carl was tempted to kiss her. He moved away from her, and grinned reassuringly (or rather he hoped it would look reassuring).

"We've all been working too hard on this project, Ann. There's a lot of tension around. As leader of the team I strongly suggest you take a vacation away from Alien Beach."

"Not yet. I just have to -"

"As of now."

"Well... okay. I was planning to go back to Sri Lanka, to see Arthur. He's been begging me to come and tell me about... you know. As soon as this tour is over, okay?"

"Okay."

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