Day 3 - Teacup

100 Day Writing Challenge

Day #3

Prompt: “There was a ring in his teacup…”

Carlyle walked into the bustling restaurant with a newspaper tucked under his arm and a pipe stuck between his lips. The restaurant was positioned at the peak of the massive Communications Tower that loomed over the district. Centuries ago the term skyscraper was coined for such building, but if those business men could work in the buildings in this district, they would call them moonscrapers.

In fact, only this district housed the portals as they were so named. Three times as high as the Communications Tower, the portals served as a sort of launching pad for shuttles to the International Space Station. Once a year, the district shuttled a team of astronauts-ambassadors to the ISS to began their preparations for inter-galactic travel.

It was perhaps fifty years ago that Carlyle’s grandmother was tinkering with her father’s radio system when she tuned into a frequency emitting a communications broadcast from an alien shuttle passing by the outer atmosphere. Since then, the world has made contact with five other worlds beyond their own galaxy. The teams of astro-ambassadors were formed a few years ago to initiate diplomacy between the planets, preparing a peace treaty to prevent any wars.

Carlyle slid into a booth against a window and placed the newspaper on the table. A slight whirring kicked into action above him, sucking in the cloud of smoke puffed out of his pipe. He removed his scarf and placed it across the newspaper in front of him. A headline peaked out from under the scarf, “Astro-Ambassadors to Shuttle off by Week’s End.”

He removed his mobile from his breast pocket and lightly tossed it in front of him. The insignia of the Intergalactic Communications Division glimmered as he brushed it aside under his scarf. Tonight was a Carlyle night, undisturbed by work. His gaze wandered out the window where flurries of snow danced outside the pane.

The district below resembled a garland of lights on a snow-covered porch. He sighed in a puff of his pipe and smiled. He lost himself in the sight and soft jazz rendition of his favorite holiday classic that he didn’t notice the waiter impatiently hovering. An intentional cough brought him back into the restaurant, and the waiter offered a menu. “No thanks. I’ll just have a peppermint tea. Oh, and bring me a slice of peach cobbler,” he added after the waiter turned away. It was a Carlyle night, after all, and he could eat whatever dessert he pleased without the chastisement from his wife.

Within moments his pie and tea were placed in front of him. The speed of service definitely was why Carlyle liked coming here, even if it was just upstairs from his office. Before he could sink his fork into his first bite of his warm peach cobbler, a rattling of glass interrupted his evening. In defiance, he took a bite and savored it. To his delight a good-sized peach slice warmed his mouth with cinnamon and spices. There was another ring in his teacup, so he flicked off the scarf to reveal his phone resting against the saucer.

The voice on the other end was frantic. He snapped his head toward the window to look into the horizon. A strange light pulsated in the distance. He dropped a twenty on the table and snatched his scarf off the table, spanning the distance to the elevator in seconds. “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

He stuffed his phone into his pocket as the doors of the elevator shut closed. His partner was still en route from his own home, but reports from around the district border was a shuttle that made a landing near one of the portals. Shuttles weren’t meant to return from the International Space Station until after the peace talks occurred next month. Carlyle sighed with agitation.

The positive ambience of the snow evaporated as his car veered into the field behind Portal E-4. Sure enough, there was a shuttle smoking in the distance, lights piercing the snow flurries. What was odd, though, wasn’t that it wasn’t a scheduled landing, but that it wasn’t their shuttle. In fact, he didn’t recognize the identifying markers on the sides. He exited his car with his hand on his side gun, cautiously approaching the ramp. A tidal wave of military vehicles and local police crashed onto the scene, immediately unloading swarms of personnel to surround the shuttle. A door opened
at the top of the ramp and two figured emerged from inside. Just as suddenly, every personnel on sight aimed their guns at the strangers.

“Halt! State your name and where you come from!” Carlyle shouted above the sirens and noise, gun at the ready. The figures continued to descend the ramp. Another shout of warning erupted from Carlyle’s lips. Again, the figures ignored the warning and continued down the ramp. The figure on the left reach a hand into his uniform. Carlyle fired the first shot, but a thunderclap of bullets volleyed the hostiles.

The figures collapsed in their own blood; a disc rolled down the ramp. Carlyle darted behind a tree in preemptive defense against a detonation. But a snowy silence answered his caution. He emerged from behind the tree, calling for a continued ceasefire as he approached the base of the ramp. He bent down and scraped away the snow to reveal a metal disc the size of a softball.

As he held it within his hands, it began to vibrate and project an image onto the snow. A figure of a human dressed in a similar to the uniform the two intruders wore. The physical features of this holographic human was indistinguishable from any race on Earth. This person was neither American nor Russian, Chinese nor African, nor any other nationality. In fact, it was almost a conglomerate race of all ethnicities.

“We come in peace,” the holographic human’s voice reverberated against the falling snow. “We are you, yet different. We pose no threat. In fact, we offer a future and a hope. Thousands of years ago our ancestors abandoned their dying planet in search of a better home for humanity. They divided their leagues to travel the galaxies in search of an inhabitable planet. We found approximately seven, though each was too distant from another for any contact until now. We have received your communications from your International Space Station and have decided to come to reveal to you our planet three times the size of your Earth. It can provide a good home for your descendant. Should you decide to leave within the decade, by the time your shuttles arrive, your Earth will be depleted of its natural resources. Thus, we offer you a hope for your future, a way to migrate to a new planet to call home.”

Carlyle stared at the hologram cast in the icy snow, gut wrenching. “But as a precaution,” the voice continued, “unless the astronauts we sent in our shuttle transmit a coded messaged back to us telling us of the peaceful collaboration between Earth Humans and our planet, we will refrain from relinquishing unto you our galactic coordinates. Your time is limited on Earth, and thus you have few options beyond a peaceful alliance between your Nomadic Ambassadors and our home planet. We hope you choose to form a pact that will enable you to abandon your dying world to create for yourself a nation on our planet. Our home is yours to share if peace is your anthem.”


- (c) Kevin Barrick