The Songs of Polaris

3. The Original Human (Part II)

The French soldiers saw light, and the silhouette of an alien humanoid gradually came into view. The figure was nested in a tall, sturdy pilot seat, and restrained by layers of foam that had seemingly cushioned the blow upon crash-landing. It was also wounded, a bloodless opening in its abdomen.

Captain Dubois peeled the foam away. He found the alien to be pale, wrinkled, and sorrowful. It was looking up with glistening eyes as if gazing at the sky.

"Finally you are here, Captain Dubois."

It startled him. The captain jumped backward and tightened his grip on his rifle.

"Fear not," said the alien, "for I meant no harm. Pardon the mess - the dark mass you are witnessing is a product of condensed gravity. My fractal space-time collapsed when you decompressed the cabin pressure. This ship may be new, but it suffers from notable design flaws. I will restore it as soon as I get back on my feet."

Condensed gravity - was that the reason those flares fell into oblivion? So the same could have happened to them? Dubois focused on breathing, trying to slow down his heartbeat. "You're wounded. Let's get you treated first."

The old figure looked at him in the eye and said, "Very well. You are as merciful as I expected."

Sergeant Henri came over to examine the wound. Although the anatomy was different, he could still resort to basic biological principles. Meanwhile, the two others radioed the outside world. Despite the darkness, the military channel worked.

Dubois looked around, convinced there were no other occupants.

"So who are you?" he asked. "And how do you know my name?"

It chuckled, albeit frail. "I am known by many names. Some depict my lineage, some document my sins. But your species respectfully refer to me as the Wayfarer. It is a name that humbles me."

"My species? When did we make contact -"

"As for your name," said the Wayfarer, "I have always known it. The same goes for Henri, Jean, and Fabien. You are honorable individuals, both in this timeline and mine."

Nothing it said made sense. At least not yet. Dubois streamlined his thoughts before firing off his subsequent question. "Where are you from? What are you doing on Earth?"

The Wayfarer shut its eyes and murmured a scripture passage. It then answered, "Where I'm from, too long a story to tell. Except I was once like you, naïve and proud. In my timeline, humans have destroyed themselves in an interstellar war. So I'm here to find a fossil. A female human fossil. By extracting its genetic building block, I hope to recreate mankind in my timeline."

Henri finished examining the wound. He interrupted, "Capitaine, it's bad. I'll need to apply coagulant gel and stitches. Will take time."

"Roger that," said Dubois, "proceed with caution."

Their mission was to salvage the spacecraft. The darkness, however, had compelled them to adapt. Treating the Wayfarer's wound had become a priority. The alien appeared to be a friend to all mankind, and they needed its help to get back to daylight.

Meanwhile, the clock was ticking. If the Soviets showed up, Dubois would have no choice but to detonate the nuclear warhead.

"So you're from a parallel world?" asked the French captain. He never thought he would utter those words, save from the children's science fiction books on his son's bookshelf.

"Yes. Time is not a straight-flying arrow, but a river that meanders and forks. You and I belong to different branches of different forks. Our timelines are millions of Earth-years apart."

"But why travel to our timeline just to find a human fossil? Can't you find the same one over there?"

"This particular fossil only exists here," the Wayfarer assured. "It belongs to a girl who came from a unique, diverse lineage. She possessed the most complete set of human genomes. She was the original homo sapien."

Dubois shouldered his weapon. His breathing and heartbeat had all returned to normal. The war, the mission to strip alien technologies - all that paled in comparison. They were minuscule and insignificant.

He counted his earlier questions, the who-how-when-where-what. He then proceeded to the final question, which pertained to the why.

"Why are you helping mankind?" he asked.

And turned out, it was the most important question. For the Wayfarer opened its eyes, made a hand gesture, and rendered twelve floating screens in the air. Each of them showed a motion picture, reminiscing old memories. Together, they formed the Wayfarer's history.

"To understand my motive," said the Wayfarer, "you must first listen to my story. Learn about my twelve acts of penitence, and why this would be my last."

The French soldiers stood around the Wayfarer, their ears fully opened.