by L. E. Howel
The trees swayed silently around him, moved by an unseen wind. Edwards glanced anxiously about. Only the trees were moving, nothing else. The lush green of the forest oppressed him. It should have been beautiful, but it wasn’t. Long ago it might have been different, but now all of this only seemed to mask a deeper malignancy. Fear lived here with the common understanding that good had not thrived. Edwards, for all his experience and knowledge, was wary and watchful. He was equipped and ready to respond if he had to, but on a single vehicle mission like this the best thing to do was run. Speed was his best defense.
The shadowy forest swept quickly by. Edwards pushed down on the accelerator and sent his vehicle crashing and bumping faster along the rutted forest trail.
Through the reinforced glass windows he watched the miles pass by. Seeing the wild country set him thinking about his zoo and the animals in it. This was where they belonged, out here in reality, not caged in their perfectly protected nonexistent environment. Could they ever adapt though? Would they survive? Probably not. Real life was hard. That was something you had to learn one slap at a time, from birth to death, and no crash course could ever teach you that. Send them out here and reality would come to them in one brief, life-ending moment of education. That’s how life deals with the weak and the different. They would die, but perhaps they would still be better off anyway.
Edwards stooped again to consult his datamap. He was getting close now. Another half an hour or so and he would be there. He didn't look forward to what he would find when he arrived. If it hadn't been for the nearly setting sun he might have even slowed his pace to at least delay the inevitable. Instead he pushed on, certain in the knowledge that things would never be the same. It hadn’t been much of a life up to now, but it was his and it was all that he had known. Though he had hated the past his mind now clung to it as an evaporating security. Things were definitely going to change.
***
Birch lay uncomfortably on a hard pallet on the concrete floor. For a time all he could do was gaze weakly up at the ceiling. The slightest movement of his breath and the occasional blinking of his eyes were the only visible signs of life he could manage. He had expected pain but there was none. He felt weak, but he felt well.
Raising his head slightly he surveyed his surroundings. It was a stark gray room. No windows and no furniture, save for the hard pallet he lay upon. He was alone. For some time he lay passively, trying to pull his thoughts together in the shattered remnants of his mind. Somehow he had survived his jungle experience, but he couldn’t make any sense of it.
Earth obviously was not dead, as they had feared, but everything in it seemed like a mad jumble to him. It all raised more questions than it answered. Why hadn’t anyone answered their approach messages? What had the probe’s strange readings on earth’s condition meant, and why had those probes all been destroyed before any final transmission could get through? Were they hiding something? If so what? His head ached.
At least they were back. They had made it. Birch wondered what sort of reception they would get. He wondered if anyone remembered them. Had people forgotten their mission, their place in history? He wondered if they would remember what they had done, or attempted to do, for them. It seemed unlikely to him that anyone would remember anything. After all, time changes everything. The grandest plans and the greatest achievements, or even the darkest failures, all become the driest history that would eventually shrivel up and blow away on the winds of change. Every generation would forget the past a little more until nothing was left. He was glad. Most things were better forgotten anyway.
His mind cleared. He had to find the others, get back with his crew and figure out what to do. Slowly he climbed to his feet. His legs were weak and shaky, but, despite everything, unhurt. This surprised him. His jungle exploring had seemed too real to be a dream but too dreamlike to be real. Whatever had happened didn’t last.
On unsteady legs he explored his limited surroundings. There wasn’t much. In the gloomy light his fingers felt along the smooth, featureless walls for anything that might tell him more, but there was nothing. Not the slightest crack was to be found. Larger, more necessary features were strangely absent. Windows, and even doors, were missing. As he stared at the blank walls he wondered how he had gotten in here or how he would ever get out. Perhaps he wasn’t meant to. After the vast infinity of space his existence had been reduced to this one tiny room. It seemed a fitting comment on what their greatest plans had come to. He couldn’t let it rest at that though, so he kept searching, feeling for a way out. There had to be something. He kept looking.
NINE
The hollow hiss of a door opening and the thud of heavy boots on concrete awoke Birch from a fitful sleep. It seemed only a moment ago that his fruitless search for escape had ended. Exhaustion had overcome him and he had fallen into a troubled sleep, but now the sudden realization that something was happening had him quickly crawling to his feet. Before he could stand strong hands had grabbed him and were pushing him through the door. He marveled for a moment that such an opening could exist in the formerly featureless walls of his cell.
He was pushed down a long, gray corridor as bleak and empty as the room he had left. His mind raced. What were they doing? Where were they going? What would happen to him now? The guards’ expressionless faces gave no clue as to what was in store. He knew human nature well enough to be worried. The history books were filled with examples of how these things were done. People were not convenient. They were an embarrassment, a threat, or perhaps just an annoyance, and so they were removed. Were they now an embarrassment or a threat? It was hard to know what this new world would make of them.
The image of Russia’s last Tsar came to mind, a living relic of a bygone age, an anachronism with no purpose, pulled from his bed in the middle of the night and shot. His family had gone with him. All murdered against a blank stone wall. Progress was brutal. Was it to be the same for them?
Birch shuddered. He dragged his feet and tried to look back to see if his crew were following behind, but the guards pushed him forward and he almost fell. Finally they stopped before a blank wall, as plain as all the others, but with a click a door appeared, just as it had in his cell. He was marched through.
The room they entered was large and warmly furnished. The echo of their footsteps immediately died, smothered in the thick carpeting that covered the floor. The papered walls were covered with beautifully framed artwork depicting classically dull pastoral scenes. Vases of colorful flowers gave off a fresh perfumed scent that contrasted sharply with the sterile air that Birch had grown so accustomed to. A fire in a polished brass fireplace glowed dully. It was all too normal.
Five plush chairs were arranged before a long, impressive mahogany table. The three uniformed men sitting behind the table looked up as Birch was thrust into the room and roughly shoved into one of the chairs. A moment later the door hissed again as Jane and the others were dragged in and deposited in their seats. Birch might have smiled despite himself, his crew had survived the crash too, but his anger wouldn’t let him.
He rose to his feet. He should have been afraid. He needed to be cautious, but here finally was something real, something he could deal with, a physical manifestation of all their troubles over all those years in the form of these three uniformed bureaucrats sitting behind their fancy wooden table. All his pent up rage let loose. All his seething anger at the injustices since their return and the whole sordid mission that had led them here boiled over.
“I don’t know how you normally do things around here,” Birch spat, waving his finger in the face of the central of the three uniformed figures, “but torture and forced imprisonment are not accepted practice where we come from! I demand that we be released and that we meet with people from your civilian government, not a trumped up little military tribunal like this.” Birch had more to say but a burly guard had grabbed him by the shoulders and was pulling him back to his seat. Birch's anger burned hotter and he lashed
out at the man.
"You're not pushing me around again," he hissed and lunged at him, pushing him into the wall. The guard was surprised and caught off balance, but quickly recovered and pushed back. Birch's tired legs buckled and, as he fell backwards, the guard landed a thundering punch on his shoulder that sent him reeling.
In an instant DeSante and Jane were up, ready to assist, but the other guards were prepared for that and pushed them forcefully back into their chairs. Birch meanwhile was pinned to the wall, held up by his shoulders like a butterfly on a specimen board.
"Let him down," sighed the man at the center of the table. He shook his head in disgust, "We don't want to see our guest damaged in any way, even though his conduct might seem to warrant it." Birch was thrust back into his chair and left gasping.
"Now," the man continued, "perhaps we can continue in a more civilized manner. I'm sure that you have many questions, and that is only natural. We also have questions for you, and I'm sure that you would agree that this too is natural.
"Let us first get the formalities out of the way. I am Area Commander Gibbs, to my right is Unit Commander Konik and on my left is Special Operative Edwards.” Both men nodded curtly. “We are here to help you. Now, from the remains of your ship we understand that you were part of the Hypnos program, Hypnos III to be exact. Our records are rather incomplete on those missions. They are little more than ancient history to us now and all that we have left are old dusty records. From those reports I would conclude that you are the commanding officer; Lt. Colonel Ratliff." He was looking at Birch.
Birch shook his head, "No, I'm not. He didn't make it."
Jane shot a sharp glance in his direction and he ran his fingers nervously through his hair.
"Oh. Then you must be Major Thomas Birch acting as Commander of the mission I presume." Birch nodded, but he didn't like the way he had emphasized the word ‘acting’. "That is disappointing," Commander Gibbs continued, "I dislike having to deal with inferiors." Birch's eyes narrowed. He glared angrily at the man. "I mean nothing personal by that, Major," he continued, "so do not be offended. I merely meant that to us a ship like yours is like an exciting time capsule and we had hoped to have a full compliment of crewmembers in order to learn more from you. Your commanding officer would have been of particular interest to us, but we are also interested in learning from all of you."
"You mention that our ship is like a time capsule," Jane interrupted, "but what I can't understand is how we actually managed to survive reentry at all. No offense to our pilot," she shot a meaningful glance at Birch, "but the position we were in seemed like one that no one could survive, yet here we are. It's like a miracle."
"I’m afraid it is not nearly as spectacular as that, just a matter of technology. We have inherited a good deal of this type of thing and we put it to any beneficial use we can find for it. What you experienced was merely a device once used in the airline industry when that form of transportation was so popular. I believe the system was developed in response to the high levels of fatality and accidents involved in that means of travel. The concept is quite simple really; a protective cocoon of energy surrounded your ship until it could safely land, and here you are, ready to be born into a new life in our modern world. We are very glad that you made it."
"Yeah, nice sounding words," Birch barked, "but I haven't seen any evidence of those ‘good feelings’ you talk about. We've seen nothing but bad treatment since we've been here so why should we believe you want to help us now?" Jane shot another sharp glance over to Birch but he was too busy glaring at Gibbs to notice.
Gibbs’s smile was unaffected. "Let me first stress that we recognize that our first meeting has indeed been far from ideal," his voice was smooth and apologetic. "We can understand any resentment you might feel at your treatment; it was not our intention that you should have to spend time under confinement, but circumstances made it necessary. With a more typical subject the process would have been better, perhaps even enjoyable. You see, we thought it best to allow you to serve your time for adjustment and stage-one quarantine in the envirodome. The protection of that safe environment would have allowed you to recover while enjoying whatever dreams your heart could imagine- like a holiday for the mind.”
Birch snorted.
"We are aware of the problems that developed with one of you in there," Gibbs continued, "but some of you, apparently, are not ready for paradise.” He was looking at Birch. “As a precaution we had to remove you all from the domes and place you in more conventional confinement. Technical difficulties aside, I think you will find that we have been looking out for your best interests."
"Those technical difficulties, as you describe them, almost killed me," Birch remarked sourly.
"Perhaps," the man replied, "but I hardly need to point out that you were in fact brought out alive. We saved you from yourself, Major. You might even say that you now owe your life to us twice. You should be thankful and enjoy our hospitality."
Birch scowled moodily and rubbed his arms where he had been pinned to the wall. "You've got a lot to learn about hospitality," he remarked bitterly.
Gibbs raised an eyebrow and shook his head. “Look,” he announced tersely, “we’re all military personnel here. Orders are orders. Everything has been done for your good. Deal with it, Major.”
Birch fumed and stared unblinkingly at Gibbs. Jane shifted uneasily in her chair, looked at the others and then back at Gibbs. "I think," she started, "that we all understand your reasoning. We accept that you did what you thought was best, what we really want to know now, though, is what happens next. What does the future hold for us?"
The tension broke. The commander’s clouded expression cleared as he looked over to Jane. "Yes of course," he smiled. His well-oiled voice regained its easy tone. "You want to know what will happen to you and that is why we have brought you here. We have wonderful things in store for you; yes, wonderful things!"
Birch eyed Gibbs suspiciously. Something in his manner reminded him of a third-rate salesman looking to close the deal. Birch wasn't buying, only he doubted whether he really had any choice. All he could do was listen and hope that things really were as wonderful as Gibbs wanted them to believe.
TEN
Birch walked into the comfortable lounge and sat down. He was alone. Through the glass of the skylight he could see stray clouds drifting across a brilliant blue sky and he leaned back to watch. This was what he had missed; the sky, the sun; his sun. He wanted to be out there, to feel the heat and smell the breeze, but he knew it was impossible, at least for now. The vaccination program they had been forced to endure was finally complete but another week had been scheduled for observation to watch for any complications. All they could do now was wait.
As he watched the sky his thoughts turned again to their situation and things ahead. There were still a lot of unanswered questions. They had only been told so much at that first meeting all those weeks ago, and since then no further explanations had been offered. They had been promised wonderful things in their future, but they still knew nothing about it. Birch guessed that Gibbs' idea of a wonderful future wasn’t the same as his. At least their living conditions had improved. Since their removal from containment they at least were allowed to wander through their part of the base with relative freedom.
Birch’s attempts at exploring had proven the limits of this freedom. In their part of the compound they could go anywhere, but the doors out were guarded, ostensibly for their own protection. Whether from viral infections or a more obvious physical threat was never made clear, but they were safe. That was the important thing. They were safe.
The locked doors didn't surprise Birch, but it did irritate him. They still knew so little and he was aware that the answers to everything were behind those guarded doors. For now all he could do was wait for the scheduled meeting tonight to find out what information their hosts decided to impart. He doubted somehow that it would be much.
His thoughts were interrupted wit
h a jolt as Karla touched his shoulder lightly. He hadn’t seen her come in. She smiled and sat in the space next to him. Pushing her hair behind her ears she curled her feet under her and looked over at Birch, then, following his gaze, through the glass ceiling.
"It is beautiful isn't it, sir," she murmured softly, "it's hard to believe from here that it can be so hard up there." Birch nodded. "I guess,” she continued, "it's often that way. Things look beautiful and inviting until you see them up close."
"You’re not regretting it, are you?" Birch asked. Karla was the youngest member of the crew, at twenty-two he thought too young for a mission like theirs, but then he never had any say over that.
"No," she replied airily, "life is about experiences and I'm glad I experienced this. It's amazing to be here now, and I can hardly wait to get out there in it all. It'll be like walking in the world for the first time, and the first thing I'll do is to take off my shoes and run through the grass. Just feeling that grass on my feet will be amazing."
Birch smiled ironically, "I'm sure we’ve all got things we're looking forward to," he added dryly, "though I don't think that shoe thing would conform to the usual standards of dress for NASA personnel."
She smiled back coyly. Despite her apparent good mood he somehow wasn't convinced that Karla was as happy as she wanted him to believe. Why should she be? He felt the same way himself. He was less worried about their immediate future now, but he still had no idea about what lay ahead. He knew that these people had some plans for them, but they weren't telling them what they were.