Test of Magnitude (The Torian Reclamation) (12 page)

“We don’t have to share a room with those octopus-men, do we?” Derek asked. “The hairy midgets look cool enough, but those other guys freak me out a little.”

“The additional resuscitation subjects will each have their own recovery rooms prepared, as you have,” Yob3 answered.

Arkan9 continued talking to Mip7. “Director Markin1 is very upset. He will be returning within a few days. I think it is best if we get the Earthlings out of here before then.”

Mip7 nodded.

Arkan9 turned back to Brandon and Derek. “Let’s finish the tour now.”

They crossed the courtyard and entered a different building. Whatever the Torians were smoking in the courtyard smelled good to Brandon as they passed by. Mip7 stayed in the rear again, following behind Brandon and Derek. The first hallway was short. As they turned the corner, the left side became a glass wall. That’s when they saw it.

Humans. Brandon recognized them, even from across the room. This was a vast cryonic network, more than three times the size of the other two they had seen. Dozens upon dozens of chambers interlocked and stacked on top of each other, reaching to the ceiling. Brandon’s heart sank. There they were—his own kind, helpless and immobilized, but still alive, barely. Too damn many of them. The thought that he himself was part of this horror scene until only a few days ago was overwhelming. All Brandon’s muscles went limp and a feeling of deep, deep pity overcame him. This was so utterly tragic. The only other time he remembered feeling this way was on 9-11. Brandon sank to his knees. It was all he could do to keep from crying out.

He looked up at Derek and saw tears streaming down his face, before Derek noticed him and quickly wiped them on his robes.

“Professor,” Brandon said from the floor.

Yob3 looked down to him. “Yes?” His tone of voice revealed surprise over having been addressed in that manner by Brandon.

“Can you tell me what Earth year it is now?”

Yob3 tapped on his device for a minute. “It should be your Earth year 2033 now—back on Earth, that is.”

* * *

“Maybe I should stay here and help the professor with the other subjects,” Mip7 said.

Arkan9 shook his head. “While you have proved to be invaluable in your work with the Earthlings, I believe you would hinder the professor, more than help him, if you were to remain here now without me. Director Markin1 has turned steadfast against us, almost to the point of wrath.”

“That is wholly unwarranted,” Mip7 said.

They were sitting alone in the small office that had been assigned to them near the back of the Earth wing of RL-71. It had been three days since the Earthlings were shown the cryonic chamber networks. The effect of having seen their brethren in such condition had not been good for their demeanor. They were still eating, sleeping, watching films, and going on guided walks in the courtyards, but they had become sullen and were no longer even inquisitive. Mip7 thought Arkan9 made a big mistake in showing them those tanks so soon.

“Yes, pride and obstinacy always are,” Arkan9 said. “As I have already told you, things are changing in Tora, and strong divisions are beginning to form.”

“His stern opposition to these projects makes me want to stay and help even more,” Mip7 said. “Who will fight on behalf of the subjects?”

“You would be surprised to learn what allies we actually have,” Arkan9 said. “The best thing we can do now is leave and let the forces align themselves naturally. The other species are not in as much jeopardy as the Earthlings. The Earthlings are the subjects responsible for the director’s authority first being challenged, so they are the primary focus of his discontent. We must take care of these first two, Brandon and Derek, if we are to attend to the fate of their race. But our welcome here has expired, at least for the time being.”

“I never felt all that welcome in the first place.” Mip7 said.

“Besides,” Arkan9 continued, “you need this trip as well. I have sensed an imbalance in you, since the first day you arrived on Amulen. The Earthlings are now terribly off balance as well. We all need some calm time.”

“An imbalance in me? I thought I was doing pretty well.”

“It is possible that is
why
you are doing so well.”

Mip7 cocked his head and Arkan9 laughed softly.

“See,” Arkan9 said, “Sheen can have a sense of humor too.”

“Is that why we are going to the Sheen colony, to regain balance?”

“Yes. We can all stabilize there, and I can then think and sense more clearly. There is something happening now on Amulen, something I cannot see clearly, like a disease that has started. I know it has touched you, too, and I feel its presence strongly at the Science Complex. I need to get away from it—we all do.”

“There hasn’t been disease in Tora for over two millennia,” Mip7 said.

“Not all diseases are of the body,” Arkan9 said. “And, as I keep saying, times are changing.”

The sliding door opened to their office. Mip7 and Arkan9 turned around in their seats. Director Markin1 stood in the doorway.

“The Earth project is cancelled,” he said.

Mip7 cocked his head, but Arkan9 remained motionless.

“As such,” Markin1 continued, “your access to this facility has been revoked. Please leave.” He spoke calmly, but was very firm and cold.

“We are leaving, Director,” Arkan9 said. “We are scheduled to travel this afternoon, along with the two Earthlings.”

“The Earth subjects will remain here,” Markin1 said.

Mip7 jumped out of his seat. “Why? We have clearance and authority in this matter from the chancellor’s office.”

“Not anymore,” Markin1 replied. “I have just returned from a meeting at the chancellor’s office. Two continental governors and the High Chancellor himself were in attendance. There will be no further resuscitations of any species, your project is cancelled, and the revived Earth subjects will remain here.”

“What will you do with them here?” Mip7 demanded. “Keep them locked up in those rooms? This isn’t right.”

“If I have it my way, they will be put back in cryonic preservation and reinserted into the network. But even if we decide to terminate them, that is no longer a concern of yours. Go back to your space station. The science at this facility will be conducted by scientists henceforth.”

“Terminate them?!” Mip7 said. “Put them back in the tanks? You can’t be serious! Have you no ethical considerations whatsoever?”

Mip7 looked to Arkan9 for help, but he remained seated and silent.

“Tulros,” Markin1 said, and exited down the hall.

“Arkan9, why didn’t you say anything? We have to do something!”

Arkan9 motioned to the desk behind Mip7. “Have you any other belongings here, besides your lightpad?”

“No.”

“Good. Take it. Let’s go.”

Mip7 grabbed his lightpad and followed Arkan9 out, but they walked in the wrong direction—out to the reception area instead of back to Earthling’s rooms. When they reached the lobby, Mip7 tugged on Arkan9’s cloak and forced him to stop.

“Where are we going? We can’t walk out of here, or we won’t be able to get back in. We need to go back and get the Earthlings. You aren’t going to just leave them here, are you? Didn’t you hear what the director is planning on doing to them?”

Arkan9 closed his eyes for a moment, and then said, “It will be okay. We have the time.”

A loud, angry voice suddenly bellowed behind Mip7.

“Where are they?”

It was Markin1. Mip7 turned around.

“They have been taken ahead,” Arkan9 said, “to where we now go to meet them.”

“Bring them back, immediately!”

“No, that is not possible now.”

“You don’t carry a lightpad, Sheen. Check your messages for Erob’s sake. This is no longer your project.”

“I don’t have to check them to know you have taken liberties with your perception of your authority in this matter. You have stretched it—yes—and have redefined it to your liking. It is too late, Director. They are no longer in the Science Complex, and so they have reverted into our care. They will not soon return.”

Markin1 came at Arkan9 and reached out his arm as if to grab him. Arkan9 took one step back and swirled his hand in a circular motion in front of him. A strange panel of light formed where Arkan9’s hand movement had been. Markin1 took another step forward, but then bounced back hard off the light-spot left in the air. The light spot then vanished. Markin1 stood there stunned for a moment. Then he turned and walked back to the reception desk.

“Get me the spaceport authorities on audio,” he ordered.

“Yes sir,” the administrator behind the desk said.

Mip7 followed Arkan9 out of the building. They walked next door to RL-70 and got into the tower elevator.

“You saw this coming,” Mip7 said.

“Not clearly, no. However, I did feel enough to be able to employ wise foresight. You will learn to do the same.”

“Me? No, I’m not a Sheen. And what was that force field trick back there? I have never even heard of anything like that.”

Arkan9 smiled. “Oh, that. No, you will probably never be able to do
that
. Especially since I wasn’t even aware that I could do it.

* * *

“You must be used to all this,” Derek said.

Brandon certainly wasn’t. He was just as blown away as Derek was.

“Ha-ha,” he said. “No. Not in the least. Everything here is …far out.”

“This isn’t what airports look like on Earth in the year 2012?”

“No, Derek. They probably don’t—I mean didn’t—look too much different than how they did in 1968.”

“What about flying cars, man? Like in the Jetsons?”

“Well, my Corvette flies,” Brandon said. “Or at least, it did. But it stayed on the ground. Still rolled on tires, that is. Truth be told, it probably wasn’t much faster than the ‘60’s models. Especially the ‘63—I always liked that split-window design. And I have never seen a hovercraft before today, either.”

They were standing outside at the C2P1 Amulen spaceport, nearly hypnotized by the scene. Professor Yob3 was with them. The main terminal was in plain view across the tarmac. Spaceships were coming and going. Some were long and boxy, not all that different looking from the space shuttle. But they had no wheels and simply hovered when landing and taking off. Others were disk-shaped, blatant flying saucers right out of the Twilight Zone. They were absolutely fascinating, especially the speed in which they accelerated once they rose out of the immediate area.

Yob3 had ushered them out of RL-71 several hours earlier, rather suddenly. Brandon and Derek were only too glad to comply. They were beginning to feel like prisoners there, and being in such close proximity to the humans who were still in cryonic preserve tanks was unsettling. Brandon started feeling better as soon as they left. Once they were out of the building, it was wonder after wonder surrounding them everywhere they went. Brandon and Derek were like two children on their first visit to Disneyland.

It started with the Science Complex. The architecture, towers, and transportation systems were all remarkable. They rode in a green-transparent tube train, high above the ground, which afforded them a splendid view. Then there were hovercraft rides, including a hover-train which took them across the country to the spaceport. Yob3’s assistants left them at the Science Complex train station, where Yob3 explained to Brandon and Derek how important it was for them to cooperate in the transportation arrangements, assuring them that they could easily be tracked wherever they went, and should they try to escape an unpleasant fate may await them. Brandon and Derek didn’t need to be threatened; they were glad to be outside moving around and getting away from their rooms. Brandon had already decided to trust Mip7, Arkan9, and Yob3 somewhat, perhaps in the way a pet taken home from the pound quickly learns to trust its new master. Those three were, after all, looking out for him and Derek—and for all Brandon knew, they were the only ones on this planet who would.

“Are we going to the main building over there?” Brandon asked. He hoped they weren’t. It was a very crowded-looking place, and he felt a little uncomfortable, having been something of a spectacle at the train stations. They were now standing next to a much smaller building, with only a few other natives in the vicinity.

“No, you are booked on a charter,” Yob3 said. “We stay here.” That news was a welcome relief.

“Whoa, lizard-women!” Derek said. Brandon looked behind them to the sidewalk where Derek was staring. Two natives were walking on the path towards the main terminal, only they looked different. They had noticeable female qualities about them, very much like human women: hourglass shapes, busts, and their hips swung when they walked. They also carried handbags on shoulder straps. These two were both of a dull-gray skin color.

“Those are native Amulite females?” Brandon asked.

“Very good, yes,” Yob3 said. “Toras. From the looks of their skin tone, probably C2 natives as well, going on a trip somewhere. They could also be spaceport employees.”

“How come none of you cats—I mean, people—wear clothes?” Derek asked.

Yob3 cocked his head a little. “Well, perhaps you have noticed, our skin is leather?”

“Yeah, but you don’t seem to have any, um, private parts you need to hide. How do you guys procreate and go to the bathroom?”

Yob3 chuckled. “Derek, all humanoid species reproduce in roughly the same manner. Now, we have discovered some species with interesting variations on reproductive practices and functions. For example, the Roakans, whom you saw the other day in the cryonic preservation tanks, bear exactly three young at childbirth. But the reproductive act itself is essentially the same. If a species has two legs, two arms, one head, and a torso, they basically have sex the same way you do—more or less.”

Brandon winced over the mental images he was getting. The Roakans must be the octopus-men. There’s no way those midget women could hold three kids in their wombs, unless they are a heck of a lot bigger than the men.

Derek apparently needed more answers.

“Then why don’t we see your organs? And you don’t have a butt-crack? How to you poop, man?”