by Simon Bown
“It sounds like someone’s cutting a hole in the hull.” Carl said confused.
Weedon‘s fury gripped his already tattered nerves. He was amazed at his sudden depth of anger. The ship had been taken so easily, he could not fathom the methods used but he knew he would fight with every ounce of strength to regain control. The image of his wife and daughter lying defenceless in their stasis beds locked into his mind. A whimper escaped from his lips as he pushed to get to his feet. The gravity was too strong and he collapsed painfully onto his back.
Carol entered the room and stood between Weedon and Carl. Her easy movements in the powerful gravity betraying her not-so-human nature. She gazed at Weedon’s face with an expression of only mild interest as if she was scarcely concerned with his feelings or thoughts on what was happening. She looked over her shoulder through the door as the hideous grinding noise stopped.
“Carol what are you doing?” Weedon asked.
She ignored him and stepped into the passageway.
He heard the lift doors open and the odd clicking of what must have been footsteps.
Carol entered the room followed by two naked humanoid creatures, each of the beings had the proportions of a normal human body but lacked any features. Eyes, nose, mouth, ears and genitals were all missing to give only the appearance of a smooth skinned naked template of a man. They faced Carol as if telepathically receiving instructions and then picked Weedon off the floor. She pulled a sachet of the stasis sedative from her pocket and ripped it open.
Weedon clamped his mouth shut and struggled to free himself from their powerful grip. Carol grabbed his nose and held his nostrils shut. He pulled his face away but was unable to dislodge her grip. The more he resisted the more he realised he would not break free, eventually the burning pain in his lungs became too much and he opened his mouth to draw breath. Carol pushed the sachet into his mouth and squirted the sedative down his throat. Almost instantly he felt the first sensations of tiredness, he watched the lights on the ceiling pass over him as he was carried to the lift and could do nothing but hope his fear for his wife and daughter would not take control of him and reduce him to a tearful wreck.
Weedon awoke on his back, tender and suffering a debilitating headache. Several powerful lights blinded him from above and he closed his eyes to avoid the glare. Gravity pulled at him at Earth’s comfortable norm and he found breathing no longer a tiring endeavour. The air tasted sweet and warm, very different to the atmosphere he was used to on the freighter. A telepathic wash bathed him in a myriad of emotions, none of them friendly, none of them shallow but rather intense and clearly focussed on him. He rolled onto his side and viewed his location. He was sealed in a room constructed of some kind of transparent material. Staring through the walls were one or two hundred people, obviously human and obviously concentrating on him. He looked around to find his room encircled by this oddly silent hostile human audience, each face portrayed an unfriendly bearing and Weedon found himself returning each gaze with an equally antagonistic stare.
Carol Archer appeared at the front of the crowd and stepped through the wall as if it wasn’t there. “You are not what I expected.” She said.
Weedon backed away from her until he was blocked by the wall. “What are you doing with me? Where is my family?” He demanded. The muscles in his legs quivered, he tried to control them but his fear was too insistent.
“Your family is still on the ship.” Carol replied, hiding none of her disgust. She moved nearer and stood in front of him. “Of course you don’t know why you’re here. Several months from now you will find yourself contacted by a man named Teafu, he will have picked you out as someone with a particular hatred of the Mezzyima and you will join him in a pointless, murderous crusade.”
Weedon was desperately confused, he had no dislike of the Mezzyima but he wasn’t fond of them either, how his view could change so vastly was beyond him. And anyway he was making an excellent living as a pilot, why would he give that up? It didn’t make sense, none of it made sense. “How do you know what might or might not happen?” The words came from his mouth shaking and light.
“We have come back from some time in your future to stop you.” Carol looked down on him with a pitying gaze.
“Time travel is impossible.” He said.
“Look around you. Do you think so many people would go to all this trouble for nothing? For some kind of deception?” Carol paused and looked upwards.
Weedon looked out at his unusual audience and found them in the same position. “What are you doing?”
Carol didn’t answer, she looked to her left and the crowd parted to reveal a large display screen showing a view of Weedon’s freighter. Behind it three Mezzyima ships emerged from a perfect wormhole and moved into a formation. A furious expression crossed Carol’s face to be quickly replaced by resolution. The mass of people circling Weedon’s transparent confinement moved quickly to disperse and file out through several doors. Carol stepped through the wall and faced the display screen with her back to Weedon. The Mezzyima moved to surround the time ship.
“They’ll stop you. Your ship is powerless against the Mezzyima. Nothing will operate on this ship.” Weedon sensed the telepathic communication going on all around him between Carol and the rest of the crew. They were surprised, desperate and determined. A command was sent to the weapon’s team to destroy the freighter. Weedon screamed at Carol “No! Don’t do it. My wife and daughter are there.” He found himself on his feet, pushing at the wall trying to get to her. A massive barrage of firepower assaulted the freighter and obliterated it immediately. Weedon punched his fists into the walls, the force broke bones and cut through his skin but still he pounded. “No.” He screamed. “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill all of you!”
Carol turned and smiled at him. “We have initiated the self-destruct. This ship will soon be consumed by a massive antimatter detonation. We cannot allow the Mezzyima to rescue you or take control of our ship.”
Anger consumed Weedon. He thought the Mezzyima were all powerful, capable of controlling any technology and stopping any weaponry from operating. And yet his wife and daughter were dead, they could have stopped this but they let it happen. He turned to his jailer. “Carol. I die gladly knowing you and the Mezzyima will suffer the same death. Without Julie and Emily I don’t want to live, my life is over.” His sight was suddenly blanked out by an intense white light. A shift in his perception caused a peculiar dizziness, the light cut off and he opened his eyes.
Two Mezzyima floated above the floor ten feet in front of him. An identical ripple moved across each of the entities.
The telepathy had a pureness Weedon had never before experienced. “Why did you let them kill my wife and child?” He was consumed with rage and hatred.
“We wished to observe the future human technology in use.”
“You let them die?” Weedon cried out as he lunged forward to attack. The Mezzyima disabled him with a telekinetic strike to his forehead. The blow to his skin as he hit the floor unconscious caused only a small bruise, the blow to his mind caused by the loss of his family would never heal.
DESPERATE HOPE
(Current Time)
Weedon slammed the space plane into the atmosphere with little apparent regard for his or Teafu’s safety.
The heat stress on the fuselage did not reach the lower protection band and he twisted the craft through several extreme manoeuvres in the hope of setting off at least one hazard alarm. Losing Sutton had affected him far more than he would have anticipated, a tangible grief had enveloped him and his anger needed a release. This aerobatic display was currently his only way of venting his anger. Anger at Teafu for leading them here, anger at Sutton for dying and of course anger at the Mezzyima for his original most desperate sorrow. He toggled the artificial gravity on and off sending the contents of the space plane, himself included, recoiling between the planets gravity pull and the artificial norm. A wave of sickness reduced his enthusiasm for this particular
trick. He was aghast, speechless, furious, anxious and empty, empty! “Why do I feel like this?” He asked himself.
“It is a reminder of your own mortality.”
Teafu’s comment interrupted his thoughts in a most infuriating manner. Weedon turned, seized Teafu by the throat and spat his command. “Stay out of my mind.” The ejected saliva covered Teafu’s face. He let go and turned to pilot the space plane, his angry outburst had unexpectedly cooled his temper. At last a hazard alarm sounded and he felt further released from his shockingly dark mood.
The frozen landscape flashed beneath them in a blur of white mosaic expanse. Teafu’s psychic sense suggested a path of greater safety, a direction in which, perhaps, a likely short term harbour could be found. He indicated the direction through the window.
Weedon landed the craft close to a glacial cavern, steam exploded from below the landing gear as the super-heated apparatus touched down. The rising vapour obscured the small vessel in a cloud of rising liquid heat.
Teafu accessed his terminal and set up a class one environment analysis routine. He started the software and left it running. The cockpit slowly faded from his immediate perception as he lowered himself into a heavy alpha state meditation. The craft slowly disappeared around him as wisps of smoke blown by the wind and he entered the cavern via telepathic projection.
The environment software accessed all the necessary sensors on the craft to gather up samples of everything in their location. After running the testing stage it reported on all the toxic elements in the area.
The result caused Weedon some confusion. He prodded Teafu back to normal consciousness and pointed out the findings without speaking.
Teafu set the system running again and waited with Weedon for the response. Zero, the amount of toxic elements in their location was zero.
“That’s not right, it can’t be.” Weedon accessed his own terminal. “I’m going to run a diagnostic on the equipment, there may be some clogged filters.” The diagnostic reported a clean system. Once again the apparatus ran through the microscopic search and reported the result, zero. He was becoming annoyed. “How can it be right? We are too far beyond the Amalgam periphery to be on a terraformed planet. This can’t be correct.”
A most maddening smile had formed on Teafu’s lips.
Weedon stared at him. “What are you happy about? The environmental information can’t be trusted, we can’t even be sure we’ll have a clean room when the base is completed.”
Teafu replied quietly. “I think we are on Earth.”
This suggestion was too much for Weedon. “On Earth? Earth is a myth.” He turned his back on Teafu to engage the diagnostic cycle once more.
“Look at the evidence.” Teafu was quite animated. “We travelled through what is a very unusual gravity rift. We land on a planet with a vast human population virtually devoid of any telepathic ability. There are no toxic elements in the eco-system and there is no sign of the Amalgam.”
Weedon replied without turning away from his work. “And from that you deduce we are on a lost planet thousands of years in the past?” He got to his feet and continued his work at an engineering console above his head.
“I’m sorry Weedon but I believe I’m right. This is Earth. You have to trust my intuition.”
This last sentence sent a cold shock down Weedon’s spine. Teafu had an extraordinary psychic talent and his experience had taught him not to underestimate anything Teafu suggested.
Weedon took it upon himself to salvage parts from the star-ship wreckage. He worked hard at his task but found it tedious and ultimately depressing. The base suffered a haphazard, disorganized composition reflecting Weedon’s dejected frame of mind. His usual pride in his appearance dissolved leaving him an unkempt form of his previous self. The constant blizzards and freezing temperatures forced the pair to remain in the base reducing it to a forced confinement rather than a safe haven.
Teafu had been fired up by the situation and threw himself into his research of the spatial rift. He soon discovered his enthusiasm irritated Weedon and decided to work alone. Days would pass without contact between them and both found it a preferable state of existence.
Teafu watched from the cavern entrance as the space plane approached. The front dipped sharply and then lifted too high as Weedon over compensated. It swayed sideways and twisted to face away from the cavern, the engine whined as it struggled with the abrupt changes in direction. With a sudden drop the small craft dumped itself onto the ice in a very inelegant manner.
Weedon pulled himself out of the pilot seat, hit the airlock release control and as the door opened he allowed the freezing landscape to embrace his despair. He watched with little concern as the small cargo hold spilled its fragile contents onto the ice. With several components in his arms he made his way to the cavern kicking a power cell ahead of him. He was greeted by a cold Teafu.
“Did you remember the parts I need?”
Weedon paused and caught his eyes for a moment before continuing in silence.
Teafu followed unperturbed.
Weedon opened his arms and dumped his supplies on the icy floor. “I have everything you asked for in the space plane. Let me get some heat before I bring in the rest.” He made his way to the small living area, removed his coat and sat heavily in a chair.
Teafu remained standing. “I have confirmed this planet is Earth.” He was obviously very excited.
“Are you sure?”
“There is a very basic form of transmission operating twenty-four hours a day. All of it is human.”
“I haven’t picked up any transmissions. I have been looking for something ever since we arrived.”
“It is an electromagnetic technique, it’s so antiquated our communications systems would never pick it up.”
“Well if this is Earth we must have travelled through time. How is it possible?”
“The rift you and Sutton created with the antimatter torpedoes had some very unusual properties, if I am given enough time I think I can work out how to do it again.”
Weedon’s mood had, as yet, not lifted and this idea clearly made no sense. “We have no star-ship and we have no gravity generator powerful enough to open a rift that size.” He pointed out this obvious flaw in Teafu’s proposal as he would to a small child.
Teafu sat opposite Weedon and, on the edge of his seat, talked with surprising enthusiasm. This is a type of rift we have never seen before. We can open it here in this room and step through into another time and place.”
Weedon moved forward on his chair as his interest increased. “OK, let’s suppose you are right and these time rifts are possible. Wouldn’t the Mezzyima have already developed them?”
Teafu shook his head. “If they have then why haven’t they come back and stopped us?”
It was enough of an argument to convince Weedon he was safe, at least for the time being. “Do you honestly believe we can create a time rift?” He asked.
“A heavily modified graviton generator could twist space with the appropriate finesse but we have no power source here capable of providing the immense amount of energy we need.”
“How much?” Weedon, now interested by the possibility of escape from this awful existence, had become excited.
“Well, several giga-quads even for a limited rift. Do we have anything left on the ship capable of that kind of output?”
“One of the weapons reactors is probably salvageable. If we could get it working it may generate that kind of power but only in a very short burst, it was not designed to give a continuous output just a quick surge as the weapon discharged. How far would it get us?”
“Certainly not off this planet. He closed his eyes as if picturing something in his mind. “Given sufficient time working with the computer I’m sure I can build an antimatter reactor. The problem is finding the fuel.”
“Antimatter? Here? This planet is far too backward, they don’t have the technology.”
“I will search for a place
from where I can harvest antimatter. Just a few thousand atoms will be enough to get us back to the Amalgam. You get a reactor down from the ship and I’ll find the antimatter.”
An adrenalin fuelled Weedon indulged in a few aerobatics on his journey out of the atmosphere. His sense of hopelessness had been lifted and for the first time in weeks he felt he had a purpose and a reason for optimism. The work to free the damaged reactor would be hard and long but some part of him was looking forward to the task.
The moon’s absolute night swallowed the space plane whole as it descended into the dark side’s unremitting shadow. Weedon felt none of the despair he had amassed during his countless salvage missions. A lightness elevated his frame of mind, a plan had been hatched and he was working to bring it to fruition. At last a path home had been found.
He located the area of the ship that housed the reactor and slowed his approach to make a detailed search. Shadows rose and fell as the space plane’s powerful lights penetrated the star-ship’s desolate carcase. The reactor proved more difficult to locate than he had anticipated. He focused the tractor beam to a tight shaft of energy and shifted wreckage from the area. Despite the separation of the tangled mess the reactor was still not found. Weedon chose a landing space close to the position and set down. After he had suited up he passed through the airlock and investigated the debris with a strong torch light. Support struts closed over him as he made his way inside the star-ship and gave him the impression of passing within a long dead alien giant. The reactor lay underneath numerous metallic components that were clearly parts of the energy cannon it was used to power. The weight of the large fragments held the reactor firmly in place. He pulled his plasma lance from his belt and cut into the first piece of debris. The weapons grade metal made the task hard going but still Weedon rejoiced in his destructive celebration. A trace of telepathic contact touched his mind, it was Teafu requesting contact. Weedon opened himself to the communication.