by Andy Kasch
Kayla spoke up. “You want the real story, get ahold of his lightpad and read his journal.” She paused and then added, “But if you do, please skip over the parts about me.”
Brandon glanced at Jumper with a look of approval and said, “Journal, huh?”
Jumper didn’t answer. Brandon crossed the sea and reached the shores of Continent-3 before anyone said another word. The sun was low in the sky and shadows were stretching across the valleys.
“Are we really going to the space station in an alien ship?” Kayla asked.
“I think he was joking,” Alan said. “He was laughing when he said that, remember? Right, Brandon?”
Jumper thought he detected a trace of hope in Alan’s voice, so he chimed in to straighten him out.
“Of course we’re going to Cardinal-4. The governor needs to see Uncle Brandon—right, Uncle Brandon?”
Brandon didn’t immediately answer. He allowed the ensuing uncomfortable silence to extend as he looked about over the top of a mountain range they had come to.
Finally, he said, “See how inconvenient it is to be lacking information?”
Jumper squirmed in his seat and wanted to change the subject. Wherever they were going, it was fine with him—as long as he was coming along. He looked down at the mountains.
“Aren’t these the Sinlos?”
“Very good,” Brandon said. “You recognize them from the air, too.” He slowed the shuttle and descended. Soon they were skimming the treetops on the west side of the range. At one spot Brandon slowed to a hover, and then circled around. They came across an open flat area. Half a dozen figures could be seen running into the trees and rock crevices as the shuttle approached. Jumper thought the area looked familiar and became uncomfortable again.
“Careful, Uncle Brandon. The mountain dwellers are armed.”
Brandon glanced at Jumper with his eyebrows raised. He then flew the shuttle off the mountains down into the foothills, slowed, hovered, and landed. The engines turned off. Brandon opened all the doors using the pilot’s controls and vacated the cockpit.
Jumper recognized the place while he was still sitting on board. This was where he and Alan parked their cruiser two days ago, where it had been taken by the Midlands patrol. Brandon landed the shuttle on almost the exact same spot. Jumper turned back to the cabin. Alan looked alarmed. He must have figured out where they were, too. Jumper shrugged and exited the cockpit.
Brandon was walking on the slope above them. Alan and Kayla came out of the cabin and they all followed.
Brandon stopped a short ways up. When the three of them reached him, they saw he was standing before a small pile of cortzye stones and burned wood.
“This was your campfire, wasn’t it?” Brandon asked.
Jumper looked at Alan. Alan nodded and said, “Yes.”
Brandon sat on the ground. Kayla plopped down after him. Jumper and Alan slowly joined them there.
“Beautiful evening,” Brandon said when they were all sitting.
“You want us to gather some wood and start a fire?” Alan asked.
“No. We won’t be staying.”
Kayla whistled. “Now I see why you guys are always leaving the city. This is nice. Look at those streaks in the sky on the horizon.”
“You know what those are?” Brandon asked.
Jumper picked up one of the cortzye stones and said, “I suspect you’re going to tell us it’s from the firmament decay.”
“Yes—very good, Jumper. Tell me, what have you been taught about human life expectancy?”
Jumper thought for a moment. “Nothing that I can remember.”
“Don’t think I’ve never thought about it,” Kayla said.
Brandon looked back at the sky. “On Earth, in my time, humans in modern societies were expected to live about eighty years, depending on their culture and individual lifestyle. That would equate to 97 Torian years. Now, no Torian Earthlings have had the opportunity to die of natural causes, since the abductees were all under fifty years of age and we have not been prone to disease on the Torian worlds—yet, anyway. But based on Banorian health studies, our life expectancies on Banor are projected to be much longer than on Earth. More for the generations who are born here, since you don’t have the extra years of cryonic preservation factored in. Humans on Banor should naturally live to an average age of 150, close to the life expectancy of Sheen, and not all that much shorter than the 180-year life expectancy of natives.”
“But not here?” Alan said.
Brandon shook his head. “Not now. Back when you were born, however, it was different. Conditions on Amulen were more or less identical to those on Banor. Your life expectancy should have been about the same. But now the Amulen atmospheric conditions have degraded to become similar to those on Earth. I already see signs of aging on Jumper’s dad, and even on Professor Yob3 some. This is because the firmament has weakened here, and no longer protects us from cosmic rays.”
“I don’t want to leave my home world,” Jumper said.
Alan and Kayla nodded in agreement, but not all that dogmatically.
“You’re all adults now—barely—so the choice is yours. But you should understand you’re choosing a short life on a planet that is deteriorating, when you could easily live long healthy lives on Banor with the rest of us. Should you all end up staying here, I might well outlive the three of you—which I find tragic.”
Kayla stood up and said, “Brandon, why haven’t the Torian humans gone back to Earth?” She walked around behind him and kneeled before a small bush, as if something about it caught her attention.
“That was our original intent, Kayla. The Torian government agreed to plan an Earth relocation project for us, but the breakout of further galactic hostilities kept them from fulfilling it. The military has been involved in two minor campaigns since the famous battles I took part in, and they felt they couldn’t spare the interstellar transport fleet. Amulen production has since crashed, and by the time military operations were fully supported at Banor, we humans had all settled in and adapted. I mean women were pregnant, we were raising families with small children, and the move back to Earth no longer held the same attraction. Many of us still talk of it, but most Earthlings consider life on Banor to be good—so the motivation to return to Earth is now lapsing. It’s understandable. Giving up what you know is good for something that might be good can rightfully be considered a foolish gamble.”
Kayla returned from the bush holding a sizable black rock.
“That’s the biggest cortzye stone I’ve ever seen,” Alan said.
Brandon held out his hand and Kayla gave him the rock.
“No,” Brandon said. “This isn’t cortzye.” He turned the rock around in his hand. “This is quarner—a rare find on this continent. Strange.”
“Where do you normally find quarner?” Kayla asked.
“C5,” Brandon said. “This brings back memories of the Sheen colony there. I miss my old friend at Landen and greatly desire to see him.”
“Let’s go then,” Jumper said.
Alan leaned over to get a better look at the rock. “Earthlings are prohibited from visiting C5,” he said. He appeared fascinated by the quarner stone.
“And polwar is prohibited on Banor,” Brandon said. “But it occasionally finds its way in, recruiting foolish smugglers in its never-yielding pandemic, and leaving wrecked lives in its wake. I know you kids have all played it, being willing citizens of its annexation. What are your feelings about the game?”
Jumper looked at Alan. Neither responded.
“I think it’s a stupid game,” Kayla said. “And I can’t believe how many guys would rather play it than go for a walk with a pretty girl.” She shot Jumper a nanosecond’s look of discontent, but Jumper caught it.
“You feel that way because you’re no good at it,” Alan said.
Brandon motioned towards Alan with his chin. “Who would you say is the best player in the colony?”
To Jumper�
�s horror, he saw Alan and Kayla instantly glance at him. They looked away just as quickly, but Brandon saw it and turned to Jumper.
“So, you’re that good at it?”
Jumper only shrugged in response and dug at the dirt with a stick. He was embarrassed. Everyone knew how Brandon felt about polwar.
“I’m good at games, too,” Brandon said. “I’d be happy to play you, if I were not averse to using poisonous serpents for entertainment purposes. Still, it’s good to take inventory of our skills. Perhaps yours will prove to be an asset in a way you do not expect.”
No one said anything for a while. They all continued sitting. Jumper found himself becoming anxious. He was no longer sure what Uncle Brandon’s “errand” actually was, but he wanted to get on with it. It was beginning to get dark.
Kayla broke the silence. “Brandon, can I ask you a personal question?”
“Of course, my dear.”
“If you’re a prophet, why didn’t you know the cure you and Professor Yob3 tried to use on the frozen sick people wasn’t going to work?”
“Kayla!” Jumper said.
Brandon held a hand up towards Jumper and said, “It’s all right. And you’ve got me there, Kayla. It seems I’m only human after all, like the rest of us.”
Jumper threw his stick away and wrapped his arms around his knees. “Are prophets for real, Uncle Brandon? I mean, truthfully?”
“Truthfully, I don’t know—but I strongly suspect yes.”
“Then why do people say you’re a prophet?”
Brandon smiled. “I seem to have been blessed with strong intuition, rare insight, acute awareness, and profound powers of deduction.”
“I knew it!” Jumper exclaimed.
“For example,” Brandon said as he gazed at the rock still in his hand. “My intuition tells me the condition of Amulen society is resulting in the loss of freedom for some. My insight tells me the fragmented governmental regions are on the verge of becoming reorganized. My awareness tells me you and Alan have travelled farther—and higher—than you are willing to admit. And my powers of deduction lead me to conclude that conditions are ripe for a self-serving leader to begin a rise to power.”
“Wow,” Alan said.
Brandon continued. “My failure at the Science Complex is at least partially attributable to my own racial bigotry. All these years, I’ve cared more for the humans in those tanks than I have for the Torians. This is an evil, one I’ve allowed to blind me. All life is precious. Human lives are no more—and no less—valuable than those of any other intelligent species. Had my priorities been properly balanced, who knows? All the remaining human research subjects might have been saved many years ago.”
“That’s amazing,” Kayla said. “I can see why we consider you a prophet. It’s not just about telling the future, is it?”
Jumper cocked his head. What Kayla said made sense. Jumper never considered that before. The thoughts Brandon just verbalized were uncanny. If Uncle Brandon only knew everything Jumper and Alan knew. Then again, he already seemed to know more than he should.
“The gathering of information is equally important as the decision of what to do with it,” Brandon said. “But one must have accurate information first, void of hopes and wishes. Pure, unspoiled information, unbiased, unspun. Only then can risk be properly weighed against potential reward and effective strategic action taken. This is what will make you a winner in both games and life.”
Brandon set the rock on the ground by his feet. “I feel strongly that there’s important information to be gathered in this region. From where we sit right now to the tops of these peaks above us, to the plains of the north, and especially out across the Central Region valley. It’s not data that can be gained from an aerial view, unfortunately. One must collect it from the thoughts, feelings, and actions of the residents. That can only be accomplished from the midst of them. I feel it is so important, in fact, that I have left five newly-revived Earthlings in the care aliens, at a time when they most need human comfort.”
Brandon pushed the quarner stone with his foot, so it slid over in front of Jumper. “As far as learned perception goes, this is not quite as amazing as Kayla supposes. Jumper, you see the rock?”
Jumper looked down. “Yes.”
“Keep staring at it. Do you recall the sixth principle of Erob law?”
“Um…” This was awkward again. Jumper hadn’t studied the ancient law in years and his mind was blank. He continued staring at the rock, trying to come up with something to say that didn’t make him sound dumb. Then, something about the rock changed. Or maybe it was Jumper’s eyes. But the rock appeared different, as if it had changed positions, though no one touched it. Suddenly, Jumper remembered the sixth principle.
“To use one’s resources to help the plight of another is wise, to use them to help the greater good is wise, but to hoard them with the intent of obtaining personal security is to squander them.”
“Excellent,” Brandon said.
“Oh no!” Jumper looked at Alan and Kayla.
“What?” Alan said.
“Don’t you see? He’s taking us home. Dropping us back off at the colony before he goes to meet with the alien ambassador.”
They all looked at Brandon, who stood and stretched. “It’s time to go,” he said.
Alan gave Jumper an exasperated look. Jumper held his palms up in response before turning back to Brandon.
“All right, Uncle Brandon. You win. Sit back down, please. We’ll tell you everything that happened.”
*
“His eyes are open, Professor.”
Yob3 checked the vital sign readouts on the cart. “Thank you. It’ll be a little while before he has the strength to sit up or talk. Take him to the other room now. Have Tun2 watch him.”
The two Banorian scientists wheeled the chamber with the waking former director of RL-71into a side room. Yob3 left through another doorway to go check on the five Earth subjects.
The two females had their own padded room. They were awake, out of their beds, moving about and talking some, although they had yet to explore the clothing racks. The gravity was still on low, their transmitter implants were registering, and all other readouts were normal. Yob3 closed the window and continued down the hallway.
He turned into the gray room. The two bedrooms would connect to this room from opposite sides as soon as he opened the doors. Yob3 adjusted the lighting, tested all three video screens, corrected the volume on the overhead audio system, and made sure the proper videos were queued. The first one they’d see would be of Brandon giving an introductory message and sharing his personal abduction story. This was new, but a good idea. It was the next best thing to him being here.
Yob3 closed up the gray room and continued down the hall until he reached the one-way window to the male’s padded room. One of them was jumping around, enjoying the low-gravity dream he thought he was having. Another was sitting on his bed with a look of bewilderment. The third had already dressed, but was walking in circles talking to himself—and he kept pounding a fist into his hand. All the instruments here were registering normal as well.
When Yob3 came back up the corridor, the two Banorian scientists were observing the females. One of them had the headset on.
“We’re fortunate,” Yob3 said. “Both groups are healthy at this stage, and there’s only the slightest trace of the original contaminant registering. As soon as we have nutrients moving through their digestive tracts, I’m confident their immune systems will destroy the remnant.”
“Are the males more active than these females?” the one without the headset said.
“Yes. One of them is displaying a high level of aggressiveness. It’s not unusual to encounter an excessively angry subject in this process. Usually, the others intercede and the aggressive one adjusts. If not, we may need to arrange a solitary resuscitation room for him, and wait for Brandon to return before further socialization.”
The other scientist removed his he
adset.
“How’s the audio?” Yob3 asked him.
“Good. But the subjects are engaging in rapid verbal communication. Much of it is difficult to follow. When one finishes a statement, the other immediately begins. The speech is fast and the conversation does not stay on topic. They seem to minimally comprehend what the other has said, briefly acknowledging it before continuing on with their own topic. No logical conclusions are drawn and there are no attempts at problem solving, so it’s just an endless chain of chatter. Both subjects do seem to be enjoying it, though—somehow.”
“What you report is normal for the females of this species,” Yob3 said. “You’d know that if you were a university professor near an Earth colony. Can you tell if the implants need tuning?” Yob3 peered through the window and noticed the two females were now into the clothing racks, having each put on and then laid aside a small pile of items, and were continuing to redress with different combinations of the various garments available.
“They may need some adjusting, Professor. Some of the words are not translating to anything recognizable. For example, one of them keeps repeating something that sounds like ‘sacks of fifth avenue.’”
Yob3 made a note on his lightpad. “Very well. I’m going to check on the director. Start to lower the gravity in the white rooms. When all the subjects are dressed—and remain that way—bring it to normal, heat the food, place it in the gray room, and open the doors. Make sure I’m here before starting the video.”
Yob3 went back to the laboratory and straightened it up a bit. Some of the equipment still needed to be turned off and stored properly.
He knew he was only procrastinating. Having to go through the next doorway and face his old boss was the last thing he wanted to do—ever. But the time had come to do it.
*
The east side of the great central valley had become a populated and busy place. Shuttle ships and landing craft of different shapes and sizes were all over the place, transforming the dry, grassy plain into an enormous airfield. Many of them were half-star shaped.