Test of Magnitude (The Torian Reclamation) (9 page)

“That was before my time,” Yob3 said, “but from what I have seen, our inter-department communications are often worded in ambiguous language. The field teams probably continued to perform their existing routines until an official set of instructions made the change in policy clear. Old habits are difficult to break, unless done so forcefully.”

“Seems like a terrible waste,” Mip7 said. He then lowered his voice even more. “Unless, of course, the polar axis shift indeed happened, and was truly an extinction-level event. In that case, the additional hundred abductees will prove to be a great asset for the re-propagation of this race.”

“Their planet is too far away for our scopes to know that, unfortunately, and there have been no missions to that area for nearly two decades. Even so, two decades is such a short period, the orbital change may well still be a pending event. I was not aware of this before, which is why I assumed the Sheen was fabricating the story when he first brought this subject up. Now that I have reviewed the geological data we have gathered on Earth, I concur that the event was indeed overdue. When the last subject was taken,” Yob3 motioned toward the Earthlings, “there had been a rapid increase in the frequency and severity of all natural disasters, indicating the beginning of an orbital disruption. In my opinion, if it hasn’t happened yet, it will, soon. Perhaps the Earth abductions were not carried out in the true spirit of a rescue operation—but, in all practicality, they can justifiably be viewed as such in arrears.”

“Now we just need to convince them of that,” Mip7 said.

Yob3 nodded. “Your assumptions about species re-propagation, however, are presumptuous. My director, as you doubtlessly are aware, is steadfast against any such notion, and will likely fight against all efforts to resuscitate any further subjects. I know he has been lobbying for that policy already, and will have the C2 governor on his side—being as they are close friends, and the governor is in the habit of approving all of Director Markin1’s requests.”

“I don’t understand why a scientist would be opposed to such an interesting science project,” Mip7 said, “especially one with such obvious ethical demands.”

Yob3 laughed. “Obvious ethical demands? I’m not sure others will agree they are so obvious. Besides, aren’t you a space station attendant? When did you become a political activist?”

“Maybe I’ve found my true calling.”

A soft beeping sound from Professor Yob3’s lightpad alerted him to a new message.

“The white room is ready,” he said. “I am having them open the door.” He tapped back on the lightpad.

Mip7 turned around just in time to see that door reopen. He looked back across the room to watch the subject’s reactions. They looked over at it, but remained seated together in their natural defensive position.

“Also, the Sheen has returned,” Yob3 said. Mip7 was glad to hear that.

“Why don’t we feed them, and let them be for the night,” Mip7 said. “I want to meet with Arkan9.”

“Very well. I have the videos you requested queued. Would you like the honor of informing our guests?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Mip7 stood up and walked—slowly—to the middle of the room. As he did, the subjects leaned to the edge of their seats, as if they were getting ready to run or defend themselves. Mip7 went as far as he thought he could go without causing a confrontation, and then spoke in a loud but friendly voice.

“My name is Mip7. My partner sitting at the table is Professor Yob3. We are leaving for the night, but will be back again tomorrow to sit at the table again, available to answer questions. We will henceforth announce our arrivals a short time in advance, so you will know when we are coming. More food is being brought in now, and you already know how to use the waste rooms.”

Mip7 turned to see Yob3’s assistants wheeling in a new food cart, perfectly timed. The doors to the corridor remained open behind them. They took the empty cart and wheeled it out, and still the doors stayed open. Good. The smell of fresh, hot bread once again filled the room.

Mip7 turned back to the Earthlings. “The white room has been refurnished, and that doorway will now remain open. The gravity has been adjusted to normal, but your bodies have not yet fully adapted to it, so please move about with care. You will find you can no longer perform acrobatics in there as before. We have placed two beds in the room, and in several hours the lights will automatically dim for an appropriate sleep period. We also left two containers of clothes which were taken from your planet, from two different times and locations, and have been vacuum-preserved. Your own original clothes, unfortunately, have been lost to dilapidation.”

The two smaller video screens on either side of the large main screen now came on at low volumes. The subjects stood up and turned to look at the screens when they heard the noise, but then quickly shot back around to face Mip7. Their defiant expressions were beginning to soften into looks of helpless confusion.

“We will be running documentary films about our worlds on the two small screens you see behind you, at this low volume, for the duration of the night. Thank you.” Mip7 turned to leave.

“That was very well done,” Yob3 said as they exited the room. “Your new career is off to an impressive start.”

“That’s not really new,” Mip7 said. “I am, after all, a foreign relations delegate.” They closed the door behind them and started walking down the corridor.

“Professor,” Mip7 said, “if I may be so bold, which side of this issue are you on?”

Yob3 thought for a moment before answering.

“I enjoy my work, and I must admit I am interested in this project of yours. Ultimately, however, I like my job and want to keep it. I will act as instructed by my superior.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question.”

* * *

Brandon and Derek’s hunger eventually overpowered their fear, so they ate again when it seemed their captors were not returning. This time, there was a meaty substance included with the flatbread that felt and tasted like dried fish, along with a new variety of spreads. At least they were being fed well. There was also a pitcher of what looked and smelled like red wine next to the water pitcher on the cart.

The temperature in the room remained at a constant comfortable level, perhaps even a little on the warm side, so their lack of clothing had not become a serious issue until now. Brandon mentioned he felt naked and vulnerable in his underwear, and Derek readily agreed. They ventured into the white room to check out the clothing selection after dinner. Two medium-sized beds had been placed against the far wall, each with a large pillow and several layers of different types of covers. Brandon inspected the bedding material and thought it felt silky.

In the middle of the room were two plastic boxes full of clothes. The selection was less than thrilling. The first box was full of costume clothing, probably stolen from a dinner theatre or stage set somewhere. It must have been a Shakespeare play, as it all looked like something one might wear to a renaissance fair. Most of it was men’s clothes, thankfully—although, by modern clothing standards, only a woman could attempt to seriously adorn any of it in public.

The other box was worse. Stretchy spandex pants, flashy open-chest shirts with big collars, and several denim suits in white and pastel blue, some of which included vests and sport coats with rhinestone studs.

“Disco clothes!” Brandon said. He shook his head as he held some of it up with both hands. “This stuff was obviously taken from some trendy retailer in the mid-seventies.”

“What’s disco, man?” Derek asked.

“Nothing a Hendrix fan would be interested in.”

They both went with the renaissance fair costumes, which had the advantage that they were easy to adjust to fit comfortably. Brandon picked out some brown burlap pants, a big puffy white shirt with an attached small leather vest, and a wide, waist-high belt. It made Derek laugh.

“You look like Robin Hood, man. You just need the hat with a feather in it.” There was indeed just such a hat in the box, but Brandon declined on the headwear.

“Well, you look like a monk” Brandon replied, “which I find to be rather appropriate.” Derek had chosen some long brown robes that included a hood and a cord belt. He opted not to wear the hood.

“Yeah—a lot of what’s in there is knight costume stuff, for fighters you know, and I’m a man of peace. This ain’t so bad, brother.”

Dressed and feeling a little better, they meandered back to the video area and settled into the chairs in front of the screens. There was an animal program on one of them that was fascinating. Most of the creatures had leather skin, even some of the birds. There were several fearsome carnivores as well. One of them resembled a giant frog—about the size of a dog—only with many sharp teeth. The majority of its body consisted of its huge brown head. It would blend in with the plants and bushes, and then ambush prey by suddenly springing up six or eight feet and grabbing a bird out of the air, or a squirrel-looking mammal out of a tree, with its mouth.

That program ended and one about marine life began. Brandon walked over to the cart and came back with the pitcher of wine—assuming that’s what it was—and two cups. Derek looked up at him and reached out his hand to signal acceptance of the drink. It tasted like good red wine.

“That is some righteously exotic sea life,” Derek said.

“Yeah,” Brandon replied, “but really, so is sea life on Earth. I have seen shows like this about crazy ocean creatures that are just as fascinating. I mean, there’s a perfect example—a flying fish. We have flying fish on Earth, too, although they are much smaller and can’t fly nearly that far out of the water.”

 “You think we’re really on another planet?”

“It’s as reasonable of an explanation as any about what happened to us, I suppose. Only…”

“Only what, man?”

“Only …Derek, what year was it when they kidnapped you?”

Derek laughed. “It’s 1968 of course.” He took another sip of wine, and then looked at Brandon quizzically.

“Right?”

This time it was Brandon who laughed. “No, man.”

“Well what year is it then, brother? I know what show I had tickets for.”

“If we really are on another planet,” Brandon said, “It could be any year. I mean, we have no idea what year it is here, on this planet—what was it they called this place, Amulen?”

“Sounds right.”

“But what I really mean is, it could be any Earth year by now as well. We may have been sleeping a very long time. Especially you.”

“Why especially me?”

“Derek, I wasn’t even born yet in 1968.”

Derek’s eyebrows furled. He set the cup of wine down and stared at Brandon. An ugly grimace gradually formed on his face.

“I get the feeling we have both been in a coma for decades,” Brandon continued. “However long it’s been, it’s been longer for you—like forty-something years longer. It was New Year’s Eve the year 2012 when they got me.”

“No way, man.” Derek just sat there with a rebellious look on his face. “No way.”

“I didn’t want to mention it earlier, because I didn’t want to freak you out.”

“Well whose side are you on, man?”

Brandon was a little irritated by that question. “Look—whatever happened to you happened to me, too. We are in this thing together, and I haven’t seen any other humans around. I am on your side, if for no other reason than out of necessity.”

“If you’re on my side, brother, then tell me what else is going on that I should know about!”

“I don’t know anything else. That’s it. I remember my abduction now, and I know when it happened. They apparently got you a long time in the past from when they got me. Now we both seem to think we are about the same age as we were when we were kidnapped, but I don’t think we really are. Just how this is even possible, I don’t know. I can guess, but—”

“Well go ahead and guess then, future-man, ‘cause I sure got a lot less to go by than you would.” The tone in Derek’s voice suggested that he no longer trusted Brandon.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.” Brandon stood and walked around in circles for a few moments before continuing.

“I’ve been interested in astronomy and science fiction some, so I do have a tiny bit of knowledge to guess from. Albert Einstein’s physics theories have held firm to my time, so the scientists of my day still agree nothing can travel faster than the speed of light. That film we watched earlier showed we were quite a distance across the galaxy from Earth. If that is indeed where we are, it would have taken a very long time to get here, like maybe hundreds of years, even travelling at the speed of light. They must have frozen us, or maybe put us into some kind of a deep preservation sleep, in a state that stops the aging process. Otherwise, we would be a lot older now. Hell, you should have been getting to be an old man even by the time I was kidnapped. It could be that we were put into a cryogenic state or something on board their spaceships for the trip.”

Derek just kept staring at him.

“That’s all I can figure. Unless they can somehow travel faster than light, in which case we may have been in a coma here on this planet for who-knows-how-long. Whether you got here before me, only our captors can answer—assuming you have the courage to talk to them. Of course, we haven’t been out of this room, so for all we really know, we could still be on a spaceship, or could even still be on Earth. Hell, this could all be an elaborate hoax, and you might even be in on it for all I know—but you’re one heck of a good actor if you are, and those lizard costumes are pretty darn convincing. All I really know is it was 2012 and I was outside smoking a cigar when they grabbed me and knocked me out, and your sixties hippie act seems a little too good to be fake.”

Derek remained silent. A new video about Torian world history started on the other screen.

“Good,” Brandon said. “I want to watch this.” He pulled his chair over and left Derek to his thoughts and the marine biology show. Poor guy. He finds out he has been kidnapped by aliens and brought to another planet, and then he finds out he has been taken into the future, too, and his only new friend turns out to also be from the future. Tough day.