Enormity

by Nick Milligan

  “If you do they will kill you, Natalie. Whether I’m conscious or not, they’re taking me home. I’m sorry.”

  “You’re lying,” she growls through gritted teeth.

  “They will kill you and they’ll kill everyone in the convoy when they arrive. Natalie, they have weaponry unlike anything you’ve ever seen.”

  “Is that right? They would just kill us, huh?” says Natalie. She thinks I’m calling her bluff.

  “I swear, Natalie. I swear on my own life that they will shoot you. You know how I killed Brannagh? Well they’re worse. They will slaughter everyone.”

  Natalie tenses her mouth, her face knotted in anger. I kneel down to my backpack, the very backpack I arrived on this planet with, and find the flare gun. Loading a flare, I turn and fire into the desert. It bounces across the dry ground. About one hundred metres away it erupts in vivid red smoke, sparkling and crackling. I’m relieved to see that it still works.

  “What is that?” asks Natalie. “A firework?”

  “It’s a flare,” I smile.

  With her spare hand Natalie grabs me by the collar of my shirt, putting her face close to mine. “Don’t you fucking do this,” she pleads. “I trusted you.”

  “I’m sorry,” I reply, sincerely. “But I have to go. This, here, is just a dream.”

  I kiss her and she kisses me back. I feel the radio vibrate in my pocket again. I can also hear a buzzing in Natalie’s ear as she pulls away, listening to someone.

  “I’m sorry,” she says to the person. “But he’s going.” She listens to the voice then says to me, alarmed, “They’re going to try and stop you.”

  “Advise them against that. Tell them my rescue pilots are hostile.”

  “It won’t stop them,” says Natalie. “You’re the greatest thing to happen to this planet and they don’t want to lose you. We haven’t learnt enough from you.”

  The radio continues to buzz in my pocket and I answer it. The voice says, “Sixty seconds, Jack. Keep a distance until the thrusters are off.”

  “Got it,” I reply. Then, to Natalie, I propose something. “Come with me.”

  “What?” she asks.

  “Come with me. You want to learn from me? From us? Then grab your luggage from the car and come with me.”

  “What?” she says, again. “But…? No, don’t be stupid.”

  “I’m serious. I’m sure there’s room for one more. Come back with me.”

  “I can’t,” says Natalie, shaking her head. “I can’t. That’s crazy.”

  “You said you would come with me,” I say.

  Natalie stares into my face. “You knew, didn’t you?” she accuses.

  “Knew what?”

  “When you asked me, I could tell you were being sly. You knew they were coming! You were never going to come to the facility!”

  “We can argue this point later! But right now you need to make a decision! This is a once in a lifetime chance to see another world.”

  Natalie shakes her head. “I can’t just leave...”

  “You told me that you would do anything to come to my planet and study my race. Here is your chance.”

  “I didn’t think it would be this sudden!”

  “I’ll bring you back,” I say. “I promise I’ll bring you back.”

  “How? What do you mean?”

  “Go and get your bags, Natalie! Don’t think about it. Just get them. I will give you the chance to go to another planet. To meet a whole new race of humans. You will see things that change the way you thought about everything.”

  Natalie just stares, unable to speak. “But…”

  The radio vibrates again. I hear a sound. A distant roar. A creature breathing fire. I look up into the brilliant blue sky as the dot of the rescue vessel appears. Natalie is looking up too. The triangular ship, aerodynamically shaped like one of the old stealth bombers, is dropping through the atmosphere.

  “Natalie, get your bags and I’ll take you to Earth.”

  “How do I know that you’ll bring me back?”

  I search for a response. “I promised the band there would be a reunion tour.”

  Natalie isn’t convinced. She looks at me, then up at the sky and then back at me. I pick up my bags and start walking further into the desert, towards where the vessel will land. Natalie runs back to the car. I watch over my shoulder, seeing her unlock the trunk. She grabs two suitcases and puts them on the ground. She slams it shut and then runs to the rear passenger door and retrieves her other suitcase. I hear her talking to someone, the voice in her ear. With all her luggage, Natalie runs after me.

  When I look up, the vessel is only two hundred metres from the ground. Then one hundred. I stand, the flare still spewing to my right. Sleek and dark grey, with an American flag emblazoned on its hull, the vessel lands. Waves of dust envelop me then dissipate.

  Something to our left catches my eye. In the distance, along the dry desert road, the clouds of frantic government vehicles fly toward us.

  “They’re coming!” yells Natalie, as she finally catches up.

  “They’d better stay back,” I say, as I walk towards the rear of the vessel. Its thrusters have gone quiet, but I can still feel their heat as Natalie and I approach.

  A door at the rear of the ship descends into a ramp and I peer inside as we walk around the craft. A man with a facemask and a shock of slicked black hair appears. He is in a NASA issue one-piece, dark blue uniform, and wears sunglasses and a communication headset. He looks down at me.

  “Well, if it isn’t our castaway,” he says through his breathing apparatus.

  “Atticus,” I say. “Long time no see.”

  “It has been a very long time,” he replies.

  “Thanks for picking me up. I hope it wasn’t too far out of your way.”

  Atticus laughs. “Well, I had a smooth run. Didn’t get many reds. Not much traffic.”

  “Good to hear.”

  Atticus looks at Natalie. Then looks at me. “Who’s your friend?”

  “This is Natalie,” I say. “Have we got room for one more?”

  “Just one?” asks Atticus.

  “Yes,” I reply. “Just one.”

  “Of course,” he says. I can tell Atticus has that trademark smug grin beneath his mask. I know he’s studying Natalie from behind his sunglasses.

  “How long is the trip?” asks Natalie.

  “We made it here in just under eighteen months,” replies Atticus.

  “It’ll fly past,” I say to her.

  Natalie takes a deep breath and gives me a trusting glance. Then she nods at the fast approaching government vehicles, their engines rising in an orchestra of petrol-fired desperation. “Well, if we’re going to do this, we have to move.”

  “I can’t believe you speak English,” says Atticus to Natalie.

  I start moving up the ramp. “They all do,” I say. “But let’s talk once we’re out of the atmosphere.”

  Atticus steps aside and allows Natalie and I to board the vessel. “Sounds like a plan. Let’s rock and roll,” he says. He grabs two more breathing masks from the wall of the rescue ship and hands them to us. “Put these on. You’re officially in quarantine.”

  Natalie takes the mask from him and speaks into her earpiece. “I’m going with them,” she says to Heaven’s government. “I’m boarding the craft and leaving. I’ve been assured they will bring me back but I’m going to be gone for a while… it will be years… I know, yes.”

  The pick-up vessel isn’t very large. There are two rows of four seats against the walls, facing each other across the cabin. I look up at the cockpit and there’s a pilot sitting there. He’s wearing a facemask, but no sunglasses. Atticus rushes past and jumps in the co-pilot’s seat.

  “Jack, this is one of our crew, Hal Cortez,” says Atticus. “We’ve been sharing the flying duties.”

  Hal waves at us over his shoulder, his eyes shifting between Natalie and I. He then turns back and starts flicking switches. The vessel l
urches as the thrusters turn on, exploding in a deafening roar.

  “Strap in!” yells Atticus.

  Natalie sits beside me, our luggage sprawled on the floor in front of us. We both pull the breathing masks on and position them over our faces. They cover our mouth and nose.

  “This is really happening?” she yells over the volume of the thrusters.

  I just nod, my stomach clenched with anxiety. Natalie reaches out and squeezes my hand. We pull down the padded safety bars, locking ourselves in as if we’re on a rollercoaster. Natalie takes my hand again and squeezes it as we leave the ground. I turn my head and look through a small porthole window, which is large enough to see the bevvy of government vehicles and trucks screeching to a halt outside. Men in black suits exit their vehicles and stare in awe. Then I see helicopters arriving, hovering and keeping their distance. They watch helplessly as we float higher and higher, disappearing.

  “Jack, are any of these bogies worth worrying about?” calls Atticus.

  I look at Natalie. “He means the helicopters,” I tell her.

  She shakes her head. “They’re not armed.”

  “They’re chicks,” I call back to Atticus.

  Natalie still clenches my hand as I turn back to the porthole, the ground now out of sight. The choppers remain in their circumference, watching. They make no attempt to stop us. They float passively and peacefully.

  We float upward and upward before rocketing away into the darkness of space. Stars form a canopy and my chest tightens as I look down on Heaven. I have been returned to the same vantage point I had before my emergency landing. But this time my emotional state is quite different and I’m moving in the opposite direction. I thought Earth might be gone from me forever. But here I am moving back into the sky with an incredible creature by my side, squeezing my hand. Natalie demonstrates a level of bravery unlike anything I've ever witnessed. When I left Earth, I had years to train and prepare. To steel myself. But Natalie has risked everything on a whim.

  Gravity releases its grip and weightlessness takes over. The luggage at our feet slowly leaves the floor of the craft.

  "We're almost there," calls Atticus.

  Natalie and I crane our necks and look through the windshield. The shape of our ship appears in the tapestry of pinpricked light, one side lit up by the suns’ white glow bouncing off Heaven’s surface. Soon we’re rising into its belly, docking with the giant vessel that has journeyed through the cosmos to retrieve me.

  Once we’ve stepped through the airlocks, gravity returns and we can walk properly around the craft. Natalie and I are immediately led to the medical quarters. We meet a physician named Dr. Sigmund Thompson, a tall, thin man with short blonde hair and a faint Scandinavian accent. He starts running tests on Natalie and I, to ascertain our level of health and whether our bodies carry unseen harm. This is standard protocol. It’s also an opportunity for him to investigate Natalie’s anatomy. He takes a blood sample. I never leave her side. I smile reassuringly, but Natalie can only see my eyes over the facemask. As I would expect of her, she remains calm and composed and obliging when asked to undress. Natalie is gentle and obedient, clearly fascinated by everything around her. Despite bringing her here, my desire is to take care of her. Not that she is the kind of woman to ever be dependent on someone. But her hand is a heavy weight in my own.

  Once the initial inspection of Natalie is complete, I am told that we have to be separated until both of our time in quarantine is over. We will be isolated in observation rooms until Dr. Thompson runs his tests. I tell Natalie that everything will be fine and to oblige the desires of our new hosts. She nods and is led away, up a corridor, by Dr. Thompson and his assistant. She looks back over her shoulder. For the first time I see something like fear in Natalie’s eyes.

  I lie back on the bed in one corner of the room and watch some news bulletins on a tablet, which is propped on my lap. I’m shocked and awestruck by much of what I see. I am shown the relatively brief history of Earth that unfolded during my absence. Box office records. Celebrities dying, marrying and having children. The changing of prime ministers and presidents. Sex scandals. Drug scandals. But no mention of Earth’s conditions. No update on its escalating natural disasters and inter-nation violence. I realise that someone onboard is censoring this footage, controlling the live feed and blocking what my crew members don’t want me to see. There will be some glib psychological reasoning for this. I’m sure it’s one of our many protocols designed to ease me back into my planet’s version of humanity.

  I am in an examination room, sitting opposite Dr. Thompson. We’re both wearing facemasks, as I’m still in quarantine. The walls and floor are sterile and white, but have a faint green discolouration. The table is cold and metal, as are the chairs. They’re bolted down. To my right is a mirrored, one-way window. Beyond it is a viewing room and I know members of the crew are watching. Privacy is a state of mind.

  “Are we still in orbit?” I ask.

  “Yes,” replies Dr. Thompson as he attaches me to a lie detector. It’s a small, black box on the table between us. Its monitors and readings are on the side that faces him. A lens is aimed at me. A large black, empty eye. Black wires tie my wrists to the device. Two more wires are attached to electrodes on my temple. This is standard routine during internal interrogations. “We are unable to leave until we are in possession of three more specimens.”

  “Yes, of course,” I reply. Part of my original mission was to have two males and two females captured and brought to the Endeavour. I was expected to have the four specimens available to my rescuers, depending on what species I found. All I’ve brought back to the Santa Maria is Natalie. “It won’t be difficult,” I add. “I know exactly where we can go.”

  “Excellent,” nods Dr. Thompson. His eyes convey a smile beneath his facemask. “Atticus will discuss those details with you. The sooner we have our specimens the sooner we can return home.”

  “Will Natalie… be alright?” I ask.

  Dr. Thompson studies me before answering. “She won’t feel any pain. Is that what you’re asking?”

  “Yes,” I reply.

  Dr. Thompson glances at the readings on the lie detector, gauging my response. He then reclines in his seat, using casual body language as a means to relax me. This makes me feel inclined to unsettle him. “Now I just need to begin with a few basic questions.”

  “You know I’m trained to beat one of these lying machines,” I say.

  “Well, we have updated the technology slightly while you’ve been gone. As you no doubt noticed, I don’t even need to ask you any validation questions. The machine is mapping you already.”

  “Impressive.”

  “Firstly, I need to ask about your time on the planet. How would you describe it?”

  “Enjoyable.”

  “How so?”

  “It’s a nice place, Dr. Thompson. I like it.”

  “Judging by Natalie’s speech, clothing and general mannerisms, it seems that they have a semblance of social order.”

  “Indeed they do.”

  “Where did you fit into that social order?”

  “I was a labourer.”

  “They put you to work? Manual labour?”

  “I chose to work. It was an honest living.”

  “Could you elaborate on your role there? What sort of work did you do?”

  “What’s going to happen to Natalie?” I ask.

  Dr. Thompson’s eyes narrow. “We could talk more about Natalie… if you would prefer.”

  “What happens to her next?” I ask.

  He doesn’t reply. Instead he again glances down at the various screens on his side of the lie detector. “Have you developed a bond with her?”

  “A little.”

  “Have you engaged in sexual intercourse with her.”

  “No.”

  Dr. Thompson glances at the machine. Then he asks, “By human standards, she is a healthy, attractive female. Have you had sexual thoughts about he
r?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you acted on those thoughts?”

  “Be more specific.”

  “Have you ever made sexual advances towards her? Or directly propositioned her for sex?”

  “No.”

  “Did you engage in sexual intercourse with any of the inhabitants of this planet?”

  “What’s going to happen to Natalie?” I ask.

  “Are my questions making you uncomfortable, captain?”

  I lean forward. “I very rarely feel discomfort.” Dr. Thompson stares at my face, then at the machine, then at the one-way mirror. “There’s no need to look at them, doctor.”

  “Is that so?” he asks, adjusting his facemask.

  “You’re not supposed to acknowledge them.”

  “Why are you asking what will happen to Natalie when you already know our protocol?”

  “Humour me.”

  “We’re going to study her.”

  “I don’t recall the protocol demanding that you be humane. I don’t want her to feel any pain.”

  Dr. Thompson nods, to reassure me. “Of course. Once it is time for the more thorough biological exams, we will put the subject into an induced coma. For many of the other physical examinations, if the subject is required to be conscious, we will use all necessary anesthetics so that she is comfortable.”

  “So we’re already calling her the subject?” I ask. There’s a pain in my chest that I try to ignore.

  Dr. Thompson’s eyes smile. “Captain, I realise you have been in the wilderness for a long time. It is not lost on any of the members of this crew that your ingenuity and courage is vital to the success of our mission…”

  “You flatter me, doctor.”

  “But I must remind you,” he continues, “that our greater objective here is… monumental. Please remember our training and the necessary sacrifices that we have made.”

  Images of Natalie naked and splayed open on an autopsy table radiate with clarity, flickering somewhere behind my retinas. A grotesque premonition of what’s to come. I look into Dr. Thompson’s eyes. I can see that cold, reptilian tick that we humans expose when pushed. When you break us down and peel away our daily decorum and social extravagance, we are scared little creatures with sharp teeth. We are the result of backwards evolution. An example of the wrong species’ ascension of the food chain. Dr. Thompson is the ugliness.