Alien Upstairs (14 page)

"No,” Sarah whispered.

"You must understand. Raf has been here for many ages, he was taken from Earth long ago. He has watched our race try and fail, again and again. He has grown to hate us, and to hate what is human in himself. Sometimes he cries out in his sleep, and when I awaken him, I do not ask what visions he has seen."

"You sent him the letter,” Sarah said.

"You have seen it? He would not speak to me, so I sent it—penetrating your systems is not difficult. Perhaps I should have departed before he returned, but even now, I could not do that to him.” She gazed solemnly at Sarah. “I shall try to help you, I—"

"Margaret.” Raf was in the doorway. He strode into the room and stood near them. “Has she told you her story?"

Sarah nodded, unable to speak.

"It's very sad, isn't it.” He spoke in his flat voice. “But not as sad as mine. I have seen things you haven't even recorded, that you have lost, recalling them only in legends. I have seen the great drought, I have seen people learn how to toil with the plow and become the prisoners of towns and cities. I have seen them rise to heights even you have not dreamed of, only to fall. Now you are falling again. Perhaps that is all you can do. If you fall now, you will never rise again.” He laughed. “You will live, but more simply. Perhaps that is what is supposed to happen."

Margaret rose. She led Raf from the room, her arm around his waist.

 

Gerard picked up their dishes and returned them to the ledge on the wall. Sarah went to the door and stood there for a moment, hands in her pants pockets, then turned toward the two men. “I'm going to look around,” she said. “Want to come along?"

Gerard swayed. Mr. Epstein shook his head. Without waiting, she entered the corridor.

She moved down the hall. Trunks, covered with blankets, stood against the walls. She heard footsteps behind her and caught a glimpse of Gerard, then turned into another corridor, passing shelves of weapons; spears, bows, swords, and guns lined the hall. She saw no doorways. She went through a narrow passageway into a small, carpeted room, then out to another corridor. A wall blocked her way; she approached the barrier and felt its white surface with her hands.

The wall moved, sliding along her fingers. She saw a large, empty room bathed in harsh light. The ceiling was high, many feet over her head; large black disks dotted the floor next to the far wall. She could no longer hear Gerard's footsteps behind her.

"Gerry?” she called. She had lost him. She walked slowly toward the disks. Her shoes clattered against the floor. She stood at the edge of one disk and held out her hands.

She touched something and jumped back, startled. She reached out again with one hand. A hum penetrated her ears; the air seemed to slide against her palm. She circled the disk. It could be dangerous here. She heard the sound of steps, and looked up.

Raf had entered the room. “You shouldn't be here,” he said. His voice echoed against the walls. She stood very still. “Come out of there, Sarah."

"When are you going to take us home?” she asked.

He was silent.

"You have to take us home. If you don't, I'll ask your friend Margaret to do it."

He took a few steps toward her. “I wouldn't count on her if I were you,” he said. “She has her own little project at the moment. She knows very well that if she leaves, I won't want to be alone, and I'll have to keep you here. Think about that. Neither of you has anything to gain by helping the other."

"You're wrong. She said she would help us."

"She'll reconsider that."

"No.” Sarah stepped forward, oblivious of the disk on the floor. The air vibrated against her.

The room disappeared.

 

 

 

 

Thirteen

 

 

She was on a plain. Sarah coughed; the air seemed thin. Grass stretched before her to the horizon. There were no trees and no hills. The wind was swift and strong, but warm. It whipped her hair and stung her face. The brown grass rippled. The gray sky was miles above her head; the flatness of the ground disturbed her.

She swayed where she stood, afraid to move. She tried, frantically, to reason; if she stepped back, perhaps she would return to the room. She moved carefully to one side. The plain remained.

Her hands were shaking. She looked quickly from side to side. She had to find out where she was. A more disturbing thought reached her: I'm not on Earth. She knelt and peered at the grass. She knew little of plants, but was certain she had not seen these flat, thick reddish-brown blades anywhere before. She coughed, took a deep breath, and coughed again. The air stung her throat.

She shook. She was suddenly on the ground; her knees were weak. She leaned forward, shuddering, and put a hand over her mouth. She tried to keep calm, knowing that if she gave way to her fear, she would be swallowed by it. Her stomach cramped. She clasped her hands together, then looked up, peering over the top of the high grass.

Something moved on the horizon. She kept her head low. A line of small figures was silhouetted against the sky; she could not tell if they were people or beasts. Her throat tightened.

She wanted to run. She was almost on her feet before she realized that she would be seen if she ran. Her blue sweater would be easy to spot against the brown plants, and she would be moving away from the place where she had appeared.

The dark shapes on the horizon grew. They were moving toward her; she could not gauge their size. She squatted, ready to bolt. Small upright figures were riding the backs of hairy beasts. If she concealed herself, perhaps they would pass without seeing her.

They grew. They were coming in her direction. Despairing, she knew that they had seen her. She jumped up and ran away from them, knowing as she did so that she could not outrun them. She tripped and fell on the grass. She gasped; she was already out of breath. Staggering to her feet, she saw another figure in the grass near her.

Where had it come from? It stepped toward her. It wore a long robe, but she saw its face under the hood. Its nose was flat, its mouth a tiny hole. Its eyes, if they were eyes, were almost hidden by the planes that passed for its cheekbones. Its arms snaked out bonelessly in her direction. She pivoted on her toes. The beings on beasts were much closer.

The long figure seized her and she tried to pull away. She opened her mouth, but heard no scream. The hooded being tugged at her, pulling her through the grass toward the others. Then she heard their cries: high, thin shrieks. They rode more quickly. The creature with her sang in the same voice, its little mouth fluttering, and jerked her arm painfully.

She fell against him, and the plain was gone.

 

She was back in the room on Phobos. The creature was still by her side. She backed away. Raf was coming toward her.

"Sarah,” he said. She grabbed his arm. “Don't be afraid of him. If he had not been on his way here, you would have been lost."

The creature moved toward the near wall. A door opened and he went into a corridor. Raf started after him, then halted and came back to Sarah. He took her arm, leading her out another door and down a hallway. He pushed her into a small room and seated her at a table, then poured her a glass of amber liquid.

She sipped it, letting it warm her. Then she began to shake. She put the glass down. “Who is he?"

"He is one like us.” Raf sat near her and gripped her shoulder. “That was his world. Margaret tells me that his people are nomads, though they were once more than that. Imagine his sorrow.” Raf laughed hollowly. “There are many such stories."

"Why is he here?"

"He has come to speak to Margaret.” He frowned. “If you can call it speaking. They must use signs, and have difficulty communicating, though that hasn't stopped them from laying their plans. He is one like us. There are others. Many other worlds have observers of their own kind. He has been watching his world longer than I have been watching ours."

He rose and moved to the couch in the corner. His hair was tangled, and his face was drawn; there were bluish shadows under his eyes. She got up and sat next to him. “Why has he come for Margaret?"

"They wish to find the ones who are not like us, the ones who brought me here. I have taken others from Earth, but they always leave me, searching for those beyond, those whom we have never seen but have sometimes felt. Sometimes each went alone, sometimes with an observer of another world. No one has ever returned."

"Do they travel on those disks?"

"Yes. They are part of a vast Pathway."

"Then why haven't you left?"

His jaw tightened. “Because I'm a coward. Because I'm afraid. Because I feel I must wait, and because I think the others must have died during their search, or one would have come back. Pick any reason you like.” He paused for a moment. “I was the first taken from Earth, carried from it in an empty vessel by a cold presence I never saw, forty thousand years ago.” She recoiled. “Yes, I've lived that long, and I'll continue to live. I was carried from my home, and I believed for a long time that a god had captured me. I was left alone in rooms like this. Food appeared when I was hungry, and images were shown to me, but I was terrified, unable to make use of anything for a long time. It was many years before I understood that I was to watch Earth, return from time to time when its societies were on the verge of great change, and record my observations. It was even longer before I realized I could not die. I can be killed, of course, but I cannot die from disease or old age."

Sarah reached for his arm.

"I must review my own observations from time to time, for I've forgotten much. I can't even understand some of them, for they are written or spoken in languages I no longer know. But I do remember how I rejoiced in those early years. The entire destiny of my race would unfold before me, and I would see it all. Even the sorrows I saw didn't disturb me at first, for I was sure they would lead to other, greater things.” He removed her hand from his arm. “It wasn't too hard to set up on Earth in the old days. People were ignorant—most of them would accept whatever outrageous story I told. I could be a merchant from a far land or a magician or a messenger of the gods, depending on how sophisticated they were. I began to pose as a sorcerer, just to see how they'd react. And in your city, I called myself an alien. It hardly mattered. People act much the same in any age. How tiresome it is."

"You say that creature—that person—has come to see Margaret. Will you leave with her?"

"No.” He bowed his head and stared at the floor. “I don't know if I can. I tell myself it's because someone must stay, but I know it's because I can't bear facing the ones who brought me here, even if I could find them. Perhaps I'd rather have my hopes than an answer from them. Maybe they'll only tell me Earth is dying."

"It's not,” she said, trying to believe it.

"How do we know? We can't make a judgment about that. It might be best if it did. They might live as my people did, before I was taken. Such a life has its compensations, however fleeting. Its cruelties were thoughtless, while yours are premeditated and rationalized."

"You could do something,” she said. “You could force us to change, you could give us what you have."

"I've heard that idea before. Usually it is spoken by someone with a sword leading a warrior band. I can't do anything for you.” He was silent for a few moments. “My, my.” His old voice sounded hollow. “How tedious it must be for you to listen to me."

"No, it's not,” she said hastily.

He pulled her against him and they reclined on the couch. Sarah lay next to him stiffly, afraid to move.

"That afternoon, in your apartment,” she said carefully. “What did you do?"

"I tried.” His fingers were digging into her arm. “I needed to be with someone. But that is almost dead in me now. I left you with few memories, out of pride, I suppose. The same thing happened with your neighbor, Martin.” His face grew hard. “I thought Margaret would always be with me. She was an ignorant girl when I took her, I thought I would always have power over her. I was wrong, of course. Don't misjudge her, Sarah. She asked me to take her away, she abandoned her family and her village without a thought. She has lost part of herself."

Sarah tried to get up. He pinned her to the couch. “You refused to come with me when I showed you my ship the first time,” he murmured, “so I took your memories. You would only come when others were with you. You're as cowardly as I am."

She shook her head soundlessly.

"You can stay, Sarah."

"I can't."

"Is it that lumpish man of yours? He can stay, too, if you insist. He and that silly old man could provide us with some fun."

"No."

He rolled off her and sat up. At last he said, “It might have been amusing. We could have a lovely time. There is the solar system to see, and, though it's rather old hat as far as I'm concerned, you might find it delightful. At least consider my offer."

Smiling, he pulled her up. He brushed the hair back from her face. “Of course, you might say no. But then, you have time to think it over. Perhaps you need a few years to decide.” He backed away. “When there is nothing left on Earth that you know, you'll have to stay, won't you?"

He left the room. The sound of his steps grew fainter.

 

Sarah searched the corridors. She realized finally that she was lost. Leaning against the wall, she tried to think of what she would tell Gerard. She was afraid she might provoke him, leading him to a possibly dangerous confrontation with Raf.

She surveyed the corridor ahead, and saw an open door. Moving toward it, she looked in, and saw the room where she and Raf had just spoken. She pressed her hand to the wall and the door closed. She tried to orient herself. Ahead of her was the large room with the disks. From there, she should be able to find her way back.

Sarah walked down the hall, came to a wall, and pressed her hands against it. It slid open. She entered the large chamber. Margaret turned; the alien visitor was with her. He stepped on a disk and vanished.