“Plaatu’s Return”
By Michael D. Merrett
Available at www.thefog.com
The
cacophony of sounds resonating inside the cabin of the little star-cruiser
blended together to form a monotonous drone that caused Plaatu to become very,
very sleepy. The steady pulsating hum of the engines and the soft-intermittent
beeping of the ships on-board equipment had a way of lulling him into such a
relaxed state that at times he would drift right off to sleep while sitting in
his command chair.
As
he snored softly with his head tilted to one side, the entire ship shuddered
slightly as if being shaken by an unseen force. Plaatu shifted in his seat but
resumed his cat-nap with his head now slightly tilted to the other side.
“Ion
storm approaching,” said the ship’s computer in a monotone masculine voice. His
command console was located just a few feet in front of his command chair. From
this position, he could control every function on the ship. The myriad of dials
and indicators were purely for informational purposes as most functions were
carried out through simple voice commands to the on-board computer.
Plaatu didn’t flinch. The ship shuddered again
but with greater force this time.
“Ship
entering Ion storm,” the computer announced with no sentiment. It was merely a
machine and not programmed to convey alarm or emotional duress. Plaatu had once
quipped that no matter where he traveled in the universe, no matter which
species he encountered, their machines were every bit as heart-less and
soul-less as a pair of shoes.
Plaatu
took no notice and continued snoring softly.
“Evasive
action is strongly recommended,” said the computer.
Plaatu
shifted his weight again. He responded with a few indiscernible snorts and
grunts, then he settled back into his comfortable chair. Visions of his home
planet danced in his mind as he remained locked in a nostalgic state of
reverie.
The
outer edge of the storm hit the tiny ship with full fury. Plaatu was lifted
right out of his seat and nearly thrown to the deck.
“What
the hell is going on here?” he shrieked as he grudgingly returned to consciousness.
He clutched the arms of the chair to steady himself. The craft was buffeted
again as he was thrown forward onto the ship’s computer panel. He tried to grab
hold of the edges to break his fall with no success. He landed on his rump in a
seated position against the side wall of the cabin. A panel flew open just
above his head as packages of food rations rained down upon him.
“Damn!
Why didn’t you warn me about this?” he shouted at the computer.
“Warnings
were issued but ignored,” came the monotone electronic response.
Plaatu
tried to regain his feet but another violent impact sent him sailing into the
opposite side wall of the cabin. Another panel popped open as packets of
medical supplies showered down upon him.
“Well
get us out of here!” he shouted. “Evasive maneuvers!” The ship tilted to starboard and almost
flipped. Plaatu grabbed on to a side rail and hung on for dear life. As the
ship righted itself, he crashed to the deck striking his knees against the
metal plating. The air temperature rose sharply from the increase in internal
cabin pressure and droplets of sweat began to form on his brow.
“Damn
it!” he shouted at the computer, “Reverse direction now!”
The
ship started to roll again as he struggled to hold onto the metal rail, then he
felt the engines surge as the computer laid in the new course. In a few moments
the impacts ceased and the cabin went deathly silent. Plaatu slowly rose to his
feet and staggered over to his command chair. He sat back and took a few deep
breaths trying to clear his head. His knees were still throbbing with pain as
he looked around the floor of the cabin at the debris that was strewn
everywhere.
“Well,”
he chuckled, “that was invigorating, don’t you think?” There was no response. “Check
for structural integrity and any hull damage,” he ordered.
“Complying,”
answered the computer.
“Guess
that’s what I get for dozing off on the job,” he said softly. He walked around
the cabin picking up the dislodged items and put them back where they belonged.
He sat back down and breathed an enormous sigh of relief as his pulse gradually
returned to normal. Then he stared out towards his main viewing screen. The
large, three dimensional panel was capable of displaying a panoramic view of
the galaxy that had taken Plaatu’s breath away the first time he was introduced
to it. These newly installed devices had holographic capability and the clarity
was simply the best quality current technology had to offer. Despite his many
years of service and millions of miles logged however, the limitless dangers
that could virtually come out of anywhere out here in the vastness of space
never ceased to amaze him.
Although
it was a reality he had become somewhat accustomed to, every so often a
gut-wrenching thought gripped him like an iron vice. The only thing standing
between his frail ageing body and the crushing, deadly zero gravity environment
of empty space was the three-inch thick cobalt –reinforced outer walls of his
ship.
During
his long career, he had covered a fairly large segment of the immediate
vicinity which constituted “Coalition” space. While it spanned 31 solar
systems, he was fully aware that it was nothing more than a tiny pin-prick in a
universe that stretched beyond the imagination.
Plaatu
got up and prepared a hot beverage. The ship’s ‘galley’ was located to the
right of his command chair. It was fully automated and any number of beverages
or food items could be obtained in mere seconds with the wave of his hand. All
he was required to do was keep the food processor stocked full of the small
food ration packages that were loaded before every mission and the ship’s
‘vito-sequencer’ was designed to prepare them automatically. As he sipped an
amber colored vitamin –rich liquid, a nutritional supplement that resembled
Chinese tea, he perused his next assignment which had been relayed to him via
sub-space communications just prior to the storm. The communiqué was from his
dear friend Em Diem. He could only hope that it would be far more pleasurable than
his last assignment. He wasn’t exactly sure as to the reasons why but it was
beginning to feel like each new mission was exponentially more nerve-wracking
than the one that preceded it.
He had been part
of a six-member Coalition task force that was sent to the planet Terim to
confront a notorious group of galactic pirates. They were engaging in the
age-old practice of abducting young females and selling them into slavery. The
sex trade throughout the galaxy was an increasingly disheartening problem and was
one that struck a nerve in particular with Plaatu. He had a daughter and the
thought of her being forced to endure such cruelty was simply unimaginable.
Females from the planet Terim were known to have remarkably sensitive nervous
systems and were reputed to have almost mythical levels of sexual prowess. They
brought a huge sum on the black market but to Plaatu, it was one of the most
heinous of offenses. The girls were wrenched away from their families to be
abused on some alien world, then discarded like worn-out clothing once they
outlived their usefulness. The task force had managed to rescue an entire ship
full of terrified victims and Plaatu was moved beyond words by the looks of
gratitude in their tear-filled eyes. He sometimes liked to think that over time
he had become immune to all the suffering he encountered in his line of work,
much like a doctor becomes numb to the emotions his wounded patients contend
with. Deep down though, he was only fooling himself. Like most sentient beings,
Plaatu had a reasonable tolerance level for most indiscretions accepting the
fact that no one is perfect. Cruelty was where he absolutely drew the line.
That was something he simply could never tolerate under any circumstances.
Plaatu ordered
his computer to soften the lights in the cabin. Due to the fact that he was
expected to live within the relatively comfortable but sometimes confining
interior of his Class 3 Star Cruiser, a wide spectrum of lighting conditions
were pre-installed to conform to daily cycles. Bright yellow was employed
during work periods, soft blue for relaxation periods and blue-green for sleep
periods. Plaatu was partial to the blue
as it masked the somewhat cold, austere appearance of the gray metallic room he
called home for much of his existence.
Plaatu reminisced
about his friend for a few moments. He and Em Diem had attended the same
university on their home planet Golon and pursued similar majors but Em had
taken a different path than Plaatu after graduation. Rather than enter the CIPF
(Coalition Interplanetary Police Force) which is the path Plaatu had chosen, Em
seemed more attracted to the diplomatic side of inter-planetary affairs and had
run for public office. He was a man of good will, an articulate and convincing
public speaker and eventually rose to a high ranking position with the Council
of Civil Affairs. It was their function to investigate and resolve disputes
between member planets. It was the CIPF’s job to enforce their rulings.
Like Plaatu, Em
Diem was in the twilight years of his life. He had given many years of highly
distinguished service to his planet and those around him knew that he was
contemplating retirement. He was the kind of individual who would give you the
shirt off his back and few members of the Coalition Council were held in higher
esteem but he had one major flaw in Plaatu’s eyes. He was far too trusting. By
remaining back on Golon and confining himself to matters of diplomacy, he had
not been directly exposed to the often seedy “underside” of the universe as Plaatu
had. As a result, Em was far too willing to extend to all parties the benefit
of the doubt when called upon to mediate interplanetary disputes. Plaatu had
learned through countless experiences dealing with humanoids that the best
approach was to immediately nullify every visible threat and ask questions
later. Nevertheless, he was very fond of Em and trusted him implicitly. The two
did have something very much in common that they each remained oblivious to,
however. Age and years of sometimes very unpleasant experiences was causing
them to become terminally cynical.
Plaatu
glanced down at the electronic clipboard containing his new orders. As he read
through the text revealing his next destination, his nerve endings felt like
they had been struck by a mild electronic charge. He was instructed to head for “The third
planet” in the distant system its inhabitants fondly refer to as the “Milky
Way”. The mere recollection of his previous visit there brought back a myriad
of emotions. First off, he could never understand why the planet’s inhabitants
chose to name something as vast as a solar system after a chocolate candy bar
that shared the same name. He had forgotten to ask someone of influence that
very same question during his first visit. Then there was the infamous first
encounter. No sooner did he step off his craft, he was fired upon by a nervous
member of the planet’s military forces. Fortunately it was nothing more than a
flesh wound but then the distrustful buggers had the unmitigated gall to shoot
him in the back during the latter stage of his mission. They seemed to harbor
an inexplicable, downright primitive fear and distrust of alien life forms. If
not for the quick response by his traveling companion, CIPF enforcement-robot
Bort, he wouldn’t be here today reading this communiqué. Bort had retrieved his
lifeless body and placed him in the regeneration tube located in Plaatu’s ship.
Their advanced medical technology could restore life functions for an
indefinite period of time. Plaatu was fully aware that as he sat there
remembering the experience, it was now a half-century later. Most of his peers
marveled at his astonishing resiliency and longevity. In Plaatu’s mind however,
he was painfully aware that he was living on borrowed time.
In
fairness to the planet’s incomparably irrational inhabitants, Plaatu grudgingly
admitted that there were some fond moments during his visit to Earth. While the
hairs on the back of his neck bristled with the thought of having to go back
there, the idea did, on some level, intrigue him albeit in a distinctly
apprehensive sort of way.
The
primary purpose of his mission had been to inform leaders of planet Earth that
the Coalition of Planets he represented wasn’t trying to interfere in their
affairs. However, if the planet’s inhabitants insisted on developing weapons of
mass destruction which in time could threaten their celestial neighbors, there
would be dire consequences. On the surface at least, it seemed so ridiculously
simple that Plaatu fully expected to rap up the entire mission in a single day.
He was instructed to leave behind a monitoring device in a non-conspicuous
location so that the Coalition could
track their levels of progress, or lack thereof whichever the case may
be. The good people of Earth would be given seventy five years before the
Coalition would send another emissary. It was estimated that based on his
planetary research, it would be at least 100 years before Earthlings would
begin to send manned atomic-powered crafts to the outer edges of its solar
system at their present rate of development. It had only been fifty years. So
why the return visit, he thought to himself?
Plaatu
felt the ship lurch in reverse causing him to spill his beverage all over his
gray, one piece flight suit.
“What
in blazes!” he gasped as he reached for a towlette and dabbed at his uniform.
“Computer! What was that?”
“A
passing ship has locked on to this vessel with a tractor beam,” answered the
computer.
“Didn’t
ship scanners notice its approach?!” he said still dobbing at his uniform.
“Ship
was in sheer mode and scanners were unable to detect its approach,” came the
response.
“Sheer
mode?” muttered Plaatu. The only ships that were equipped with such
capabilities within the Coalition’s sphere of influence were those used by the
CIPF. Any member planet using ships with any kind of similar stealth-like
technology were severely punished with economic sanctions and could even risk
expulsion. Which meant that his ship was in the grip of a violator or…
“Hey
there buddy!” said an affable voice through his ship’s communication console.
Plaatu recognized the voice immediately. It was his fellow officer and close
friend Ecko Moov.
“You
son of a Talon bog-beast!” snapped Plaatu with a smile. “You’ve spilled my
beverage all over me!”
“Sorry
about that old buddy,” came Ecko’s response from his ship which was now
directly behind Plaatu’s. “I just thought I would drop by and say hello.”
“Is
that your idea of a simple hello?” asked Plaatu whimsically.
Plaatu
and Ecko had been classmates for the final two years of their CIPF training.
Their class featured many outstanding cadets and it was widely considered to be
one of the finest graduating classes in the academy’s history. Plaatu had
developed a strong bond with Ecko and during the extensive training maneuvers;
the two had become so familiar with each other’s moves, tactics, and ways of
thinking that they had developed a sense of confidence in each other’s
abilities that transcended mere camaraderie. Plaatu trusted Ecko with his very
life and he was reasonably sure that the feeling was mutual.
The
practice of sneaking up on a fellow agent and successfully locking onto his
ship with a tractor beam was an age old prank throughout the force. It was a
symbol of competence and any agent unable to perform the feat was considered a
flunky.
“You’re just
angry that I sniped you so easily,” responded Ecko. “I heard you were in this
sector and wondered where you were going next?”
“You
won’t believe it…” answered Plaatu as he walked over to the laundry shoot and
threw his towlette into the metallic bin. He pushed a button on the panel above
it and the cleaning cycle whirred into motion.
“Do
you remember that planet I told you about where I got shot with a lead
projectile not once but twice in the span of one week? The one that makes my
ribs ache every time I think about it?”
“I
remember” said Ecko. “I thought they weren’t scheduled for a return visit for
another 25 years or so.”
“They
aren’t,” said Plaatu. “I am not sure what the reason is but I’m sure I will
find out in good time. So, where are you bound for my friend?”
“Actually,
I’m due for some R and R for a couple weeks. I’ve been working straight out for
4 months and I’m looking forward to just taking it easy for awhile. Wish you
could join me.”
“Yes,
me too,” muttered Plaatu remorsefully. He would have liked nothing better than
to get away from the rigors of the job for a while but judging by the orders he
had just received, the Council obviously had other plans for him.
An
alarm sounded indicating another ship was nearby.
“Scanners
are tracking ship of unknown origin three parsecs distance traveling at high
rate of speed,” announced the computer.
“Put
it on screen,” ordered Plaatu. He gazed at his ship’s main viewing panel. In
the distance, he could just barely make out the glimmer of a small craft.
Whoever it was, they were in a hurry to get somewhere.
“Are
you tracking that?” he asked Ecko.
“It
is a Tilatin explorer according to my previous scans,” answered Ecko. “They are
elusive little creatures and I haven’t been able to get close enough for a
better scan. Now what the hell would a Tilatin ship be doing way out here?” In
another moment it was gone.
“Ship
has moved beyond scanning range,” said the computer.
“That’s
odd,” muttered Plaatu as he continued to search the viewing screen for any
trace of the craft. “They have no business being in this sector.”
“Oh
well,” said Ecko. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll see if I can pick them up on my
way back to Central. Listen, check in with me when you get back huh? You still
owe me that hiking trip, remember?”
“Yes
I remember,” answered Plaatu thoughtfully. “I’ll give you a shout when I
return. Justice be with you.”
“And
with you my friend,” answered Ecko.
With that, Plaatu
watched as Ecko’s ship disappeared from his viewing screen. At its current
location patrolling the outer rim of the Ceti Alpha system, Plaatu’s ship was
three days away from Earth at maximum speed. That would give him a few days to
re-familiarize himself with the planet’s geographic complexities. By tracking
current radio and television signals, he could bring himself up to date on just
how far Earth had progressed or regressed, whichever the case may be. He had, on
occasion, glanced at the data being sent to the Coalition’s monitoring center
from the transmitter he had left behind on his previous visit but he had never
had the time to study the data in-depth.
“Computer,
lay in a course to designated new assignment,” ordered Plaatu as he walked over
to replenish his beverage. Then he ordered the computer to open a channel to Em
Diem at Central Command to clarify the reasons for his return to Earth. The
electronic servant complied and within seconds had made the communications
connection.
“Plaatu?” came a
voice over the intercom. It was the unmistakable tone of Em Diem. “Good to hear
from you. I had a hunch you would be checking in. Are the Golon moons smiling
upon your travels?”
Plaatu
felt a deep sense of connection whenever he heard Em’s voice. He confided in
him often and would accept anything he told him without hesitation. In all his
years of service to the Coalition, he had counted on Em’s advice and guidance
more times than he could count. Through all of their interactions, the bond
they shared remained as strong as ever.
“The
glow from our lovely planet’s two moons is with me always,” answered Plaatu,
“But I am a bit perplexed. I didn’t think we were scheduled to go back to Earth
for another 25 years. What has changed?”
“There
are two reasons, my friend,” said Em. “The first is that we think the
monitoring device you left behind is malfunctioning. It is indicating that the
Earth inhabitants have accelerated their nuclear weapon programs to frightening
levels. The numbers are so high we can only assume the information is faulty
which will require you to merely repair the transmitter or replace it. You do
have a few on board as standard cargo, correct?”
“Oh
sure,” answered Plaatu. “I have at least three in my inventory at all times.”
“Good,”
said Em. “The first and highly more preferable scenario would not require you
to make any contact whatsoever. They have already informed us that they have no
desire to become members of our little Coalition of Planets and we respect
their decision. We don’t respect them enough to refrain from spying on them
mind you as they still could represent a threat to our stability if they
continue to pursue their present course but that is an issue for another day.
For the present at least, try to get in and get out, no fuss, no muss.”
“And
the second reason?” said Plaatu. He knew that first scenario sounded far too
easy. If there was one constant that seemed to dog him throughout his entire
career up to this point, it was that few things ever came to him easily.
“The
second scenario only becomes an issue if the signals we are receiving are
accurate. Then…you will have to take action.”
“What
kind of action?” asked Plaatu, his nerve endings tingling with every word? He
could still picture Earth in his mind. It was to the best of his recollection
one of the most beautiful planets he had ever seen. He had thoroughly enjoyed
his interaction with most of the planet’s life forms, particularly the
incredible assortment of birds and mammals, with the exception of humans of
course. He grudgingly acknowledged that they possessed some moderately likable
qualities, depending on one’s perspective. Their culinary arts skills were
without equal and they could spin a yarn with the best of bi-peds, a combination
that often resulted in a reasonably pleasurable evening of dining and
entertainment. But they could also, often with the slightest of provocations,
be far more disagreeable than most species he had encountered over the span of
his eventful career. “Perhaps they had mellowed with age,” he thought, “but
then again that might be too much to hope for.”
Plaatu was widely described by his peers as an incurable pessimist.
“It
may require you,” said Em earnestly, “to perform a far more extreme demonstration
of the consequences they face if they do not cease and desist with their
continuing efforts to build bigger and more destructive weapons. I fail to see
why they cannot recognize the dangers this kind of shamefully aggressive policy
poses to every living thing on their planet’s surface.”
“Well,”
said Plaatu. “Let us hope it is merely a faulty transmitter. We can always
cross that other bridge when we come to it.”
“Agreed,”
said Em. “Have a safe trip. Contact me again when you get there and have an update.”
“Will
do,” answered Plaatu. Then he remembered his encounter with the Tilatin ship.
“Oh, by the way, I scanned what appeared to be an explorer-class Tilatin vessel
leaving this sector. Are you aware of their presence here?”
“A
Tilatin ship?” said Em with genuine surprise. “They have no authority to be
exploring that area. That would represent a serious violation of territorial
mandates. I will check into it though.”
“I just thought
you should know about it,” said Plaatu. “I too thought it was a bit strange.
I’ll get in touch with you again when I am on the ground. Take care my friend.
Computer, end transmission.”
Plaatu got up and
walked around the ship’s cabin to the empty alcove where Bort would normally be
standing. All senior officers of the CIPF (Coalition Interplanetary Police
Force) were accompanied by enforcement robots. Bort had been his traveling
companion since Plaatu’s very first mission after graduating senior officer’s
training at the police academy. The ship felt empty without him and somehow
Plaatu felt vulnerable going off on any mission without him. Bort had been
malfunctioning and was desperately in need of routine maintenance. He had
dropped him off two weeks earlier with engineers and was told it would be another
week before he would again be ready for service. His ship was equipped with
weapon systems with a myriad of enforcement capabilities and Plaatu had nothing
to worry about for the most part but something inside kept nagging him that it
was bad luck to travel without his fellow officer, robot or no robot.
“Oh what the
hell,” he muttered to himself. “He would probably just scare the skin off the
Earthlings again like he did last time.”
Plaatu glanced
down at the time piece on his wrist. It was time to consume nourishment. CIPF
officers were required to adhere to a strict regimen of proper exercise and
diet. Plaatu was a seasoned veteran of the force however, and the time
allotment he was required to devote to each function had, over time, shifted
ever so slightly. The required one hour of exercise shortly after each fifteen
minute eating period had gradually morphed into a regimen that was a bit more
to his liking. Fifteen minutes of exercise per day if he could find the time
with four leisurely eating periods, each followed by a short nap. It was a
regimen eminently more to his liking and far more suited to a man of his age he
rationalized in his mind.
He
got up and walked over to the galley. A daily menu was posted on the wall
indicating portion sizes and daily items to be consumed in order to maintain
proper weight and muscle mass. The CIPF standard-issue meals would bore a billy
goat so everywhere Plaatu went he would pick up a healthy supply of contraband
items to sustain him to his next destination. He was well aware he could be
suspended and even fired for such rule violations but if the CIPF suspended
every officer who had contraband food items on board, there wouldn’t be anyone
left to patrol the galaxy.
As he loaded up
his tray with twice the allowed daily allotment of calories and filled a glass
with a wine-like beverage compliments of the gracious families on the planet
Terim, he retook his seat and a devilish grin came over his face. “It pains me
to admit it,” he said to himself, “but I have reached a point in my life where
I am forced to confess I enjoy eating more than I do sex. How pathetic is
that?” He flipped a switch on his command chair console and the cabin filled
with the sounds of relaxing Golonian music.
Plaatu’s personal favorite was an orchestral piece titled “Flight of the
Cybids’ performed by the Fantara Orchestra based in Golon’s capital city of
He deftly cut
into an 8 ounce filet of snarl-beast and popped a piece into his mouth. It had
a similar consistency as the portion of cow he had once enjoyed on planet Earth
all those long years ago. He closed his eyes and began to chew, savoring its
natural juices.
“Ahhhhh!” he
sighed, wafting in the culinary ecstasy of the moment. “It just doesn’t get any
better than this.” He raised the glass to his lips and prepared to enjoy its
contents.
“Ion storm
ahead,” announced the computer matter-of-factly.
“Of course there
is!” snapped Plaatu. “You wouldn’t have it any other way.” He so loathed
computers. He put down the drink for a moment and stared contemptuously at his
command console. “Plot an evasive course.”
The on-board
computer managed to plot a course around the second Ion storm. Plaatu had
noticed of late that these galactic phenomenons were occurring with greater
frequency. There were some scientists in the Coalition’s employ who insisted it
was incontrovertible evidence of universal warming but there were many skeptics
ready and willing to refute these findings. He finished his meal and put his
head back for a few moments wafting in the orchestral magnificence.
Plaatu was
grateful for the few days of travel time which gave him the opportunity to
catch up on Earth Lore. As he monitored signals being emitted by the
transmitter he had planted decades earlier, it did not appear, at least on the
surface, that it was malfunctioning. The signal was clear and crisp but the
data it was transmitting was nevertheless intriguing giving him much to digest.
Time passed in what Plaatu often referred to as “the blink of a cosmic eye” and
before he knew it, his ship had reached the outer edge of Earth’s solar system.
Pluto, the furthest planet from their sun was just off to his right.
Approximately 1,475 miles in diameter, its icy lifeless surface appeared barren
and uninviting.
“Computer,” he
said, “Scan for atmospheric readings as we pass each planet in this system.
Transmit all findings to Command Central. Might as well conduct a little
constructive research along the way.”
“Affirmative,”
responded the computer.
Plaatu was fully
aware that it would slow his progress a bit since the planets were not in
straight alignment but conducting research was part of his duties as a CIPF
officer. Besides, it was a great way to break up the day-to-day routine. In a
few hours he had passed Uranus, Neptune, Saturn with its awe-inspiring rings,
the mammoth Jupiter and was just shy of Mars. The “red planet” was reading
little more than minute particles of bacteria at its lowest levels. Plaatu was
fascinated upon his first visit here that of the nine planets in this system,
only one was currently supporting corporeal life. That was very unusual and
something he had not found anywhere else in his travels. Usually when he
encountered a cluster of planets so closely aligned, a greater number of them
would indicate some forms of life. In this group, eight of the nine were
virtually dead planets.
As the afternoon
waned, Earth loomed majestically in the distance. As his ship drew closer, the
fog began to clear in his head and the hazy images that had faded with the
passing of time all came back to him. He gazed intently at his viewing screen
with renewed vigor as it grew larger and larger. It was like a big blue liquid
bubble slowly rotating in the empty void of space. Plaatu recalled upon his
first visit here how incredibly naïve the Earth’s inhabitants were to the fact
that they resided on one of the most valuable pieces of real estate in the
galaxy.
His ship entered
the atmosphere taking readings as it descended. After passing through the
thinly layered exosphere, the ship entered the thermosphere and began vibrating
slightly. Plaatu immediately noticed something very different from his previous
visit. There were electronic satellites orbiting the planet in vast numbers.
His ship’s sensing equipment continued taking readings as it passed them by. He
noticed that some were functional while others were not. Plaatu couldn’t
understand why the satellites that were no longer functional still remained in
orbit. From his vantage point, the planet’s inhabitants either lacked the technology
to retrieve them or, they were content to just leave them there as floating
garbage, a decision that would only come back to haunt them in the not too
distant future as there orbits decayed.
A large craft
came into view off in the distance. “What is that?” Plaatu mumbled in an
intrigued tone.
“Craft is a
manned exploratory vehicle of Earth origin,” answered the computer.
“Manned craft!”
said Plaatu. “Amazing! They really have progressed haven’t they.”
As the
International Space Station grew closer, Plaatu was impressed with its size and
complexity. It looked like a huge metallic butterfly floating in space. It
appeared to be powered by solar arrays, a form of energy that did not exist
when he had last visited here. He ordered his computer to give it a wide berth.
He did not want to alert the good people of Earth to his presence just yet.
The ship entered
Earth’s stratosphere where the ride became a bit smoother. It orbited the
planet and began scanning for changes in air quality, water quality and relative
size of the ice packs at each pole. He would compare the readings to those he
had taken five decades earlier. The ship was flying in sheer mode, unlike his
first visit when he allowed himself to be tracked. There was no need to let
anyone know he was here unless it became absolutely necessary.
As his ship
soared above the continent of
“Hover here for a
moment,” Plaatu ordered the computer. “What is the temperature down there?”
The ship was
hovering about two thousand feet above the ice pack but the intense winds still
pushed the engines to their limit as they struggled to maintain a stationary
position.
“Surface
temperature is currently -10 Celsius,” stated the computer. “Winds are at 40
knots combining for a wind chill of -35 Celsius.”
“Good God!” remarked
Plaatu. He had never seen anything quite like this before. They were just
standing there tightly huddled together in a desperate fight for survival.
As he continued
to watch in amazement, the penguins at the outer edge of the circle appeared to
be on the verge of freezing to death.
“Why don’t they
seek shelter?” he wondered. “This can’t be some form of mass suicide can it?”
“A search of
ship’s records indicates the event is a normal occurrence which takes place in
this region of the planet every 12 months,” reported the computer. “Male
penguins are required to keep newly formed eggs warm by shielding them for the
entire winter.”
Plaatu’s heart
ached for the defenseless creatures. “This is remarkable,” he muttered. “What
determination and sacrifice. A truly extraordinary species.”
He continued to
watch as two of the penguins at the outer edge fell to the ground. They
appeared to have succumbed to the extreme cold and driving gusts of icy
pellets.
“I can’t just sit
here and watch this,” he said in anguish. “This is more than any living
creature should be expected to endure.”
Plaatu’s mind
raced in a desperate search for a solution. He was absolutely forbidden to
interfere in the normal ecological progression of any planet. The Coalition had
learned through many centuries of experience that even the best intentions to
help a given species can have dire consequences when all factors are not
carefully considered. Nature as a whole, regardless of the planet in question,
had proven time and time again to require a very delicate balance in order to
remain healthy and vibrant. If he had had the time, there were countless
examples he could have studied where humanity had dealt with serious
ramifications after introducing new plants and animals into areas of the planet
where they had never existed before. Even on a planet as small as Earth, the
inhabitants had managed to establish a strict set of rules regarding the
transportation of potentially dangerous species of plants and animals across
inter-continental boundaries.
But these were
creatures on the verge of freezing to death, Plaatu thought. He wasn’t going to
move them which might upset the planet’s delicate eco-system. He just wanted to
keep them warm. What could possibly be wrong with that, he thought?
“Computer!” he
said with utter resolve. “Drop a thermo-pod over them. Set duration for 7 days.
That should get them through the worst of the storm.” A thermo-pod was a
light-weight hovering device that generated a radiant heat over a designated
area, then dropped harmlessly to the ground once its energy was expended. It
could then be retrieved and re-charged for further use.
“Temperature
setting?” asked the computer.
Plaatu thought
for a moment. If he made it too warm, their body temperatures could rise
causing an increase in metabolism. This would force their systems to burn more
calories and they might not have access to food supplies until the conditions
improved.
“Let’s just make
it more bearable,” he said. “Set it at 0 Celsius. I would like to do more but
it may cause them more harm than good.”
The computer
complied. As it dropped the device it descended to within twenty feet above the
ground, stopped and began emitting a warm infra-red glow that would be
uninterrupted no matter how strong the winds became. Its aerodynamically
designed frame allowed it to remain in a synchronous position just above the
penguin’s snow-covered heads.
As Plaatu
continued to watch for a few moments more, the two penguins that had fallen,
gallantly trying to protect the others from the merciless forces of nature
stirred to life. They floundered for a few moments, then staggered to their
feet. Their heads bobbed side to side as if they were thinking, “Is it
springtime already?”
“That’s better,”
he muttered. “I just hope this doesn’t come back to haunt me. Although a planet
over run by penguins might be a refreshing alternative to one over run by
humans. Computer, let’s move on.”
The ship
proceeded north over
“How can one
region of this planet live in such lavish abundance,” he thought to himself,
“while just a few thousand miles away entire cultures teeter on the brink of
starvation?” Once again, Plaatu’s emotions were getting the better of him.
Judging by his
readings, much of the African landscape was either too arid or underdeveloped
to produce sufficient amounts of food to sustain its burgeoning population. He
carried in his ship’s hold high-yield grains and other food staples that could
be used during moments of crisis. A quick scan of available inventory revealed
that a hybrid, rice-like grain that had thrived in similar conditions on the
planet Tarsa may prove equally vibrant here. Unlike many grains native to Earth
which relied on an intricate system of roots and irrigation to draw up moisture
from the ground, this grain required a minimal root source and derived its
nutrients by absorbing necessary elements directly from the air surrounding it.
Even under the driest of conditions, as long as there was a sufficient source
of wind to provide a minimal supply of moisture, this alien grain should thrive
and multiply. Two thirds of this planet’s surface was covered by water, a
statistic that was unsurpassed throughout the immediate galaxy. Humidity levels
here were off the charts compared to those on Tarsa. When fully grown, the
adult plant very much resembled the tumbleweeds that rolled across the American
Southwest, only these were edible and quite tasty.
He got up from
his command chair and walked around to the back wall of the cabin. He opened a
panel, then descended three stairs that led into his ships storage compartment.
He found the large sacks of seeds he was looking for, then placed them in the
jettison tubes. Once they were properly positioned, he headed back up to the
main cabin and returned to his command chair.
He once again
gazed at the ship’s main viewing screen and searched for a suitable location to
drop the seeds.
“Unauthorized
substance has been detected in jettison tube one,” announced the computer.
“Is
that a fact?” said Plaatu, still gazing at the viewing panel. “How observant of
your little transistors.”
“Unauthorized
seed distribution in areas that have not previously been scientifically
examined for suitability is expressly forbidden,” said the computer.
“And
I thank you profusely for pointing that out to me,” said Plaatu impatiently. He
waited a few seconds more until the ship was directly over an area that was
devoid of any human life forms that may be frightened at the sight of seeds
raining down upon them. Then he pushed the jettison button sending the seeds
tumbling to the ground.
“Unauthorized
distribution of…” said the computer but Plaatu cut it off in mid-sentence.
“Will
you please shut up!” he snapped. He laid in a new set of coordinates and sat
back in his chair. He could only hope that his action, which he was painfully
aware, might pose a great risk to his career if discovered, would bear fruit.
Or in this case, bear grain. His mind was momentarily awash in self-doubt as he
had never done anything like this before no matter how severe the conditions.
He had always adhered to the rules, just as he was taught to do. That doesn’t
mean he liked the rules however. There were many occurrences where Plaatu could
have helped a particular species in need but was prevented in doing so by these
infernal rules. Many of those missed opportunities continued to weigh heavy on
his conscience. That was something he was growing increasingly weary of as the
many years passed by. Virtually every action in the universe has a reaction,
most of them unpredictable. He could only hope that this particular action’s
eventual positives outweighed its negatives. Either way, he was determined to
never again sit idly by while innocent victims suffered through no fault of
their own.
The ship again
crossed back over the Atlantic and proceeded up the Eastern Seaboard of the United
States, Plaatu’s heart began to race a bit as a feeling of intense Déjà vu
overwhelmed him. This was the same path he had taken upon his first visit when
he landed in the middle of a baseball field in
After completing
the difficult mission, his departing flight path had taken him up over the
Northeast section of the continent. Out of sheer convenience, he had decided to
plant the monitoring device in the
But then again,
Plaatu had never heard of condominiums, which didn’t come into being until the
1980’s. How could he have anticipated that a greedy developer would pay off the
right politicians, allowing the construction of a ski resort that now sat right
on top of his transmitter?
“Those Cretans!”
he shrieked as his ship slowly circled the area scanning the ground below from
an elevation of 10,000 feet. While his ship was virtually invisible to Earth’s
radar tracking equipment, it could be seen by the naked eye if he wasn’t
careful. He waited until the cover of darkness and found a suitable place to
land just west of
It wasn’t
completely free of residents however. Tom Gibson’s house was located on Pine
Hill road just off of Route 302 and a few miles from the campground. As he sat
in his living room enjoying his evening fix of “Wheel of Fortune”, he heard a
soft hum that seemed to be crescendoing outside his window. As he reluctantly
tore his eyes away from the shapely, blonde-haired woman who was gracefully
turning letters on the display board, he looked out into the darkness just in
time to see the silhouette of Plaatu’s ship sail by.
“Lucy,” he said
in an unconcerned voice to his wife who was baking an apple pie in the kitchen,
“a flying saucer just flew by the house. It looked like it was coming in for a
landing.”
“That’s nice
dear,” Lucy muttered, then she went back to her rolling pin.
Tom just shrugged
and turned his eyes back towards the television set. If she wasn’t going to
worry about it, he sure as hell wasn’t going to worry about it either.
Moments later
Plaatu set the ship down and disengaged the engines. It was eerily quiet in the
cabin of his ship but it felt good to be on solid ground again. He ordered the
computer to do a complete scan of the surrounding area for life forms.
“No humanoid life
forms have been detected within a two mile radius,” said the computer.
“Good, good,”
said Plaatu. “This spot should work perfectly. I can plant another transmitter
if necessary and de-activate the faulty one from this remote location.
Hopefully I’ll be out of here by tomorrow morning.”
He got up from
his command chair and walked over to the weapons rack. He removed a blaster
pistol and strapped it to his waist. He was reasonably sure he wouldn’t need it
but the thought of traveling without Bort on board was still a bit unsettling
to him.
“Then again,” he
thought to himself, “maybe it is just the memory of my previous encounter with
these buggers coming back to haunt me.”
“Extend exit
ramp,” ordered Plaatu as he prepared to leave the ship. The exit hatch opened
and he stepped out as the long, smooth, gray-colored ramp slid to the ground
before him. He filled his lungs with the cool invigorating air and walked down
the ramp to the grass below shining his porto-light in front of him.
As he scanned the
tree line around his ship, he surmised that the computer had picked out the
perfect spot. The ship fit into this little clearing like a glove, the trees
surrounded him in a tightly formed circle and the only access road from nearby
Route 3 seemed totally deserted. He relaxed his guard and felt at ease as he
walked around the ship and surveyed it for damage from the Ion storm. The outer
hull didn’t show a scratch and while he knew subconsciously that the shielding
the ships were equipped with was time tested and of the highest reliability,
Plaatu always felt more comfortable doing a visual inspection of the hull
whenever he landed on solid ground. “’To hell with technology,” he once told a
colleague. Always trust your senses.”
He paused and
listened for a moment. He was miles from civilization and the only sounds the
night was offering up was that of the slight breeze whistling through the
trees, the incessant chatter of crickets and the occasional “hoot” of a nearby
owl.
He bent to his
knees and ran his hand over the cool green grass. It was a much-welcome
alternative to the cold, lifeless metal of his ship’s cabin that he had been
exposed to for too many months. He walked slowly away from the ship and out
onto the access road. The asphalt was cracked in many places from frost heaves
and the extreme weather this area was prone to during the winter months.
He heard the
sound of a babbling brook nearby, but rather than trying to find it in the
unyielding darkness, he wisely decided to wait for daylight to explore it
further.
The cool night
air was intoxicating as Plaatu closed his eyes and drew it all in with
unabashed glee. His lungs filled with the oxygen-rich air and Plaatu felt completely
rejuvenated. He glanced around and
continued to waft in the ambiance. “What a great place for a camp fire,” he
said to himself.
Plaatu went into
the ship and retrieved a small heating device and a porto-chair. Then he
returned to the grass below. He activated the heater and sat down to enjoy a
short respite with nature. The porto-heater emitted a warm radiant glow as he
rubbed his hands together and held them just above its metal casing. It wasn’t
the same as an open fire but foraging for the necessary elements to get one
going was out of the question. This was still unfamiliar surroundings and in
total darkness, wandering around might be unwise. “No,” he said to himself as
he carefully scanned the forest, “this will have to do.”
He stared up at the
night sky. The stars were only dimly visible through the thin clouds but he
still visualized them in his mind. It always fascinated him how the cosmos
appeared from the vantage point of each planet he had visited. The humans had
given the constellations some very interesting names based on how they appeared
from their vantage point in the universe. “The Big Dipper” and its younger
brother, “Little Dipper”. “Hercules”, “Orion”, and “Gemini”. Most of the names
were derived from ancient Greek and Roman mythology. From his home planet of
Golon, Earth was part of the “Zepala Ta” system. 11 months earlier during his
last visit to his home world, Plaatu remembers staring up at the Golon night
sky and searching for some of the various planets he had visited. He had
located Earth as well as a good number of others and had charted them as a
personal diary. Here it was almost an Earth year later and he found himself
looking back at Golon from the other side of the galaxy.
“This mysterious
thing we call Fate is so full of wonder and surprise,” he once read. He never
could have guessed that he would be covertly re-visiting this species that was
in the early stages of development. He imagined for a moment what it would be
like when humanity finally reached that landmark moment when they would visit
some other inhabited world for the very first time. The mere thought of that
inevitable event made him chuckle for a moment. “When worlds collide,” he
mused.
Plaatu
heard his sensor beep softly. He reached down and unclipped the small
cigarette-pack sized device from his belt and looked for where the indicator
needle was pointing. He was being scanned. He continued to watch as the needle
pointed towards the night sky in a direction of approximately
“Curious
though,” he muttered to himself as he returned the sensor device to his belt.
He
heard the haunting call of a Hoot Owl off in the distance. The wind continued
to buffet the trees in a crescendoing, then decrescendoing “whoosh” of cool
air. The hour was late and Plaatu gave a momentary thought to sleeping outside
the ship for a change of pace. He decided against it however. It would be just
his luck to wake up with a large hungry black bear staring him right in the
face. They were indigenous to this region and not to be trifled with.
Plaatu
felt a tinge of loneliness come over him. While he understood the CIPF’s
reasoning for employing one-man crews to patrol the galaxy feeling they could
cover far more territory, it sure could foster a somewhat melancholy existence
over long periods of time. There were missions when his job would require him
to go days, even weeks on end without any human contact. Bort may have made him
feel more secure but he wasn’t much of a conversationalist. Plaatu wasn’t one
to wallow in self-pity though. He had learned through decades of experience
that the best way to ward off loneliness and depression was to immerse himself
in work. As long as he kept his mind active, it served as a much-needed
diversion from the many pratfalls of his occupation.
He picked up his gear and returned to the ship totally unaware that a 350 pound black bear was watching his every move from thirty yards away just beyond the tree line. Fortunately for him, the bear had already had his supper that night compliments of the nearby brook and its ample supply of tasty trout.