Voyage

by C. Paul Lockman

  “You are new visitors. You are expected. You are welcome.”

  The voice was stilted, as if washed through a computer. “Automatic translator”, Garlidan whispered. He pulled a small, black object from his pocket and it attached to his cheek, just by his earlobe. He cleared his throat.

  We could hear him saying, “Thank you for the welcome. We are delighted to be here”, above the eerily electrical white noise of the translation, which was sent across the space by the black, metal object. It glowed when active, an eye-catching lime green.

  “One of you will stay. The others will leave tomorrow. Are you prepared to Relocate?”

  Garlidan turned again and whispered. “This is a form of teleportation. Don’t worry. You won’t feel a thing. Don’t touch anyone else until it is over.”

  “Yes”, he spoke, and another stream of noise came from the translator.

  We were in another room, smaller and darker, with a large conference table and a bar. There had been no leaving, no arriving, we were simply there. We had been in the arrivals hall, and now we were here, in this other room. That’s how it worked. The effect was tremendously disorienting. Garlidan clapped his hands and laughed.

  “Wow, it has been years since I’ve done that… incredible.” I stared at him. So accomplished, so accustomed to the weirdness of the universe. It made more sense when I remembered that he was over a thousand years old, had led a complex planet, and seemed to know, or know about, everyone and everything. “Let’s take a seat and see what happens. I don’t expect we’ll be kept waiting.”

  We sat at the conference table, which would have seated twelve in comfort. Falik took my hand. She was clearly disorientated by the Relocation, and probably by the strange being who had welcomed us. Even by Takanli standards (and they, as I knew well, were no slouches when it came to weirdness) this was building into a thoroughly strange experience. The shield, the elevator cable, the exquisitely designed city… this was a trip. No doubt about it.

  Six beings Relocated in. Again, the experience was most odd. One begins to doubt one’s senses. Had they been there a second ago and I had simply failed to notice them? All my life, there had been an antecedent to each change; it was prepared, even telegraphed, and then occurred. This was different. There was no preparation. They were just there. The White Cloud, as I came to think of him, took the middle seat and gave his colleagues, all humanoids with some form of biotechnology implant, time to sit. He needed no chair, floating above it.

  “Drinks.” He sounded as much like Metal Mickey as anyone I had met thus far. Three trays of drinks appeared on the table. Again, just appeared. No-one moved. Fuck this, I thought, and reached for the large bottle of what appeared to be scotch. I poured myself a large measure into a heavy, crystal glass. Falik was staring at me. Garlidan was chuckling to himself. Under his breath, he was saying something to White Cloud.

  “The human will find that intoxicating”. Splendid, I thought, and took a large sip. I watched as the same bottle rose from the table, tipped to the side and spilled a large measure into another glass. The glass then lifted off and slid into the waiting palm of one of the humanoids. Neat trick. That’ll save time at the bar. He seemed to raise the glass in my direction. I echoed the gesture and drank as he did. So, they have both teleportation and telekinesis. And pretty good drinks.

  White Cloud began to speak. His diction was precise, but there was a total lack of emotion to his voice.

  “Chrono-travel has been arranged. Only the human is to travel.” I nodded in thanks, reluctant to speak without Garlidan’s translator. “Your ship is being fuelled. You will be accommodated in the city. Will that be acceptable?” There was no characteristic raising of the voice at the end of this sentence, to indicate a question. It was like listening to a talking robot.

  Falik had become far too curious to wait any longer. “May we ask who you are?” she said. The humanoids all looked at her, slightly surprised. Garlidan relayed the question. White Cloud responded.

  “I am the current temporal leader of Holdrian. These are the Chrono-Travel team. They do not have names. This is not their normal form.” That was all. Falik nodded, slightly wary as she eyed the six humanoids. So, what the hell was their normal form?

  “We are finished”. White Cloud ascended from the table and simply disappeared into the ceiling. The six humanoids remained. One stood and began to speak, in fairly decent English.

  “Our president is very busy. Excuse him leaving rapid. Journey your comfortable?”

  We all smiled at the noble attempt at communication. “Yes”, I answered. “You have an amazing level of technology. The elevator is a tremendous achievement.” The humanoid looked a little lost, but seemed to understand that we were praising his culture.

  “Yes. We are proud to our elevator and planet shield. Many learning from us here come. All are welcome.” This last phrase gave him particular pleasure, and the other five recognised it and smiled. Perhaps the planetary catchphrase. If so, it was an excellent one. “Visit the Science Institute?” he asked.

  We were invited to stand by gestures from all six humanoids. Garlidan began to say it even before the Relocation kicked in. “Weeeeee……!!!”

  The building we had Relocated to was similar to a large aircraft hangar in any airport back home. Indeed, a sleek, green craft occupied the middle of the hangar, surrounded by equipment and several small creatures who wore white coats. Nice touch, I thought, aware that every being on this planet, as far as I knew, was capable of shape-shifting so comprehensively that they could emulate any other being. Most of these choices were for our benefit. Seeing them all in their original forms would probably freak us out, they seem to have decided. Not a bad choice. This was plentifully weird enough already.

  “This is aircraft research bay four. There are sixteen bays, working on different planes. This one is very cool.” The humanoid motioned to the green craft while I giggled inwardly at his use of slang. “It becomes the air”, he said cryptically.

  Even Garlidan needed help with that one. “Becomes the air?”

  Five minutes of discussion and two major lectern transfers later, we figured it out. The plane shape-shifted its way across the sky. It didn’t need engines. It simply took the patch of air in front of it, transformed the air into its own shape, and continued thus in any direction it wanted. This was seen as an interim step, an export model, for those populations who were not quite ready for full-scale Relocation technology. This looked, felt and flew like a regular airplane, but needed no fuel. For many economies, it was the perfect answer to resource and environmental issues. Clever stuff.

  Rather than disorient us further with more Relocating, we walked through the rest of the hangars. There were other transport designs, some small-scale, the size of a glider, and others massive, bigger than Daedalus. One design for a ship which could exceed the speed of light captured Garlidan’s attention and he asked endless questions about it. Falik and I stood aside, somewhat bedazzled, and certainly unable to engage in such a technical discussion.

  “Are you OK?”, I asked. She seemed quiet, tired perhaps. Certainly not herself.

  “Yes, I’m OK. I don’t like Relocating. It makes me nauseous. And… well, I keep thinking about why we’re here. You know tonight is our last…”

  We were interrupted by a bustling, excited Garlidan. “They’ve cracked it! I don’t believe it! This is a prototype, but the feasibility studies were all a success.” He entered into a noisy description, spattered with expansive gestures, of how the ship curves space-time in order to minimize the distance from one point to another, then travels across the curve. To an observer, it would have travelled at two or three times the speed of light. “The power required is incredible”, he continued, “as you have to create a huge gravitational pull to persuade space to curve for you. But, it looks feasible. I can’t wait to ride on the thing!”

  Falik looked on, obviously impressed by the machine, but also on the edge of tears. She stuck wit
h me for the rest of the tour, taking my arm. I tried to enjoy the warmth of her beside me, the softness of her touch, the scent of her hair. Jesus. Was there any way I wasn’t doing the right thing, here? Doubts crowded in, once more, for the thousandth time. I’ll get back here, I kept reminding myself. Look at the technology these people have! I can get back. I must get back.

  We were led down a corridor off the final hangar in the row, which contained a quantum computer. This machine used every atom in the universe to pump up its processing power. Its calculation ability was immeasurably huge. Given how important its cousin would become, I’m almost embarrassed to admit that my first instinct was to wonder how well it played chess.

  The corridor led to a pair of large, metal doors and a pair of guards. They were huge, reptilian beings not unlike Jakalzzi’s guards, but a hell of a lot meaner. “Secure area”, our guide intoned. “Highest security”. The doors gave out a series of deep clanging sounds and finally opened, revealing another set. These had four guards. The next had eight. Right after passing through these, we were required to identify ourselves. A DNA sample was taken from our skin, and a retinal scan was performed. We proceeded through the next door, which had no guards but sparked with electricity as we approached.

  “Intent detectors”, or guide said simply.

  Garlidan translated. “They have technology which can read your thoughts. If you intended to steal something from in here, you’d be fried.” I stared at him. “We’re going to need to take our clothes off for the next part.”

  The guide stripped down and we followed suit. I took the opportunity to watch Falik undress. She pulled off her shirt and unsnapped her bra, giving me a second to take in her succulent breasts, and then pulled off her formal pants. The guide wasn’t looking and Garlidan was busy fumbling with his belt. She pulled off her panties and quickly handed them to me. I held them to my nose and breathed in deeply. An erection began almost at once. Shit. Neither the time nor the place. I willed it into stillness.

  The room darkened slightly and strong, green light emerged from small gaps which opened in every wall. It lasted about ten seconds, bathing the room in green. Then it stopped.

  “You may dress”. Reluctantly, Falik pulled her panties back on, but not before surreptitiously leaning down and giving my cock three quick strokes inside her mouth.

  “More later”, she whispered.

  Garlidan finished dressing and turned to us. “That light would have eradicated any electrical bugs we were carrying. It probably also disabled our communicators, but they can easily be repaired. We’re almost there.”

  Another long corridor stretched out in front of us and our guide, who paid little attention to us other than to ensure we were following the procedures, strode on ahead. I was bursting with questions.

  “Garlidan, who on earth are these people? How come their technology is so advanced?”

  He tapped at his communicator, which was dead. “Well, they made some vital early discoveries in the fields of quantum computing, propulsion systems and environmental control, as you have seen. They were blessed with both a vibrant, Marxist economy and a naturally gifted workforce who just took the greatest delight in inventing. Some cultures praise their painters, musicians or sports players; the populace of Holdrian gave greatest esteem to their inventors and theoreticians.”

  Falik was striding along beside us, taking this all in. “And now they sell this technology to anyone who wants it?”

  Garlidan shook his head. “No. After the initial inventions, they were inundated with visitors, requests for technology transfers, even threats. They just couldn’t deal with it. You see, their economic system didn’t prepare them for the heavy wheeling-dealing that went on, the bartering and offers of huge amounts of cash, drugs, girls, whatever… They kind of cracked up. It was after the whole planet was threatened by some maniac who claimed to have his very own Frejudium cannon that they built their first shield.”

  “Like the one they have now?” I wanted to know.

  “Oh no. This was ten thousand years ago, and more. The first shield was designed to protect them from everyone else, not their sun. It blocked radio and Net traffic, sealing them off from the rest of the Galaxy. They installed the first prototypes of their Intent Technology which sent powerful gravity shockwaves out to destabilise incoming ships who wanted to steal their technology. Happened all the time. No-one died, but getting out of one of those artificial gravity wells was pretty near impossible.”

  “Did people start to leave them alone?” Falik asked.

  “Yes. The risks were too great, and anyway, other cultures – including Takanli – were beginning to export interesting technologies, and attention shifted away. There are some who are surprised that Holdrian remains in its weird orbit. They could have fixed that ages ago, circularized it and done away with the need for expensive radiation shielding.”

  “So why didn’t they?” Falik asked.

  “They like it this way”, Garlidan shrugged. “It makes the place a bitch to get to. Without interference, Holdrian can develop its science in peace, and it has done so. In spades.”

  We had reached what looked like the final door. There were ID checks and retinal scans, to make sure we were the same people who had walked in the first door. Shape-shifters have learned to be suspicious of first impressions, I learned. The guards gave us a final, wary look over and began the unlocking process. An impressive lock clanked across, followed by a dozen others, and the door eased open a few feet. This, apparently, was as far as it went.

  “Even the guards aren’t allowed to see what’s in here”, Garlidan muttered. “Top secret stuff. Keep your eyes open”.

  We walked through. It was completely dark. Once the door had closed, the light level gradually raised until we could see our surroundings. There was grass beneath our feet, and we seemed to be standing in the centre of a white circle, painted on the grass. I looked around.

  “OK.” I gasped. “OK, just hold on here”. They were staring at me. “Hold on a fucking minute. What the fuck is going on?”

  Falik must have seen the ashen colour of my face. “What’s the matter? Where are we?”

  I looked at her, then at the huge, tiered seating areas all around us. At the two rectangles of white wood at either end of the grass. At the blue sky.

  “Welcome to Wembley”, I managed. “We’re in London, at Wembley stadium.”

  Garlidan was staring around, as confused as the rest of us. “What’s a Wembley?”

  I started to giggle. “Wembley. You know. Fortress Wembley. Home of English football.” Garlidan was none the wiser, but neurones were beginning to click in Falik’s memory.

  “We are in a sports stadium from his home planet”, she offered. “Hence the rather peculiar reaction”. She dug me in the ribs. “Haven’t you seen enough weird shit by now not to freak out at something like this?”

  I was still laughing. “Yeah, but…” she let me get my breath. “Yeah, it’s just so real, though. Completely”, I stared around, agog, “completely real.”

  “Of course it’s real!” a voice called out, jogging up the tunnel. “It’s as real as I am!” I recognised the voice even before I recognised the face.

  “I thought you were doing admin at the institute on Takanli?” I asked Samuel L Jackson.

  He threw a football at me. “I am!” Jesus, this was setting new records for weirdness. “They wanted me to come over here and talk you through this time-travelling shit.” He gestured for the ball back.

  I stared at him. “Who is they?”

  He did a string of neat keep-ups with the ball. “Huh?” He was busy knocking the ball between his instep, shoulder and head, watching it bob into the air with each connection. Finally, he threw it to me again.

  “Come on. We’ll have some one-on-one and I’ll explain it all.” Sounded fine to me. Falik took Garlidan and they sat in the substitutes’ benches, by the side of the pitch. The sky was a beautiful August blue, without a cloud in
the sky. I couldn’t see any other buildings over the towering bleachers, but I assumed they had just recreated the stadium. If Beckham runs out of the tunnel, I will totally lose my mind.

  We got set up and I faced the goal, ready to try to go round him. “So, tell me.”

  “OK. First up, relax about where you are. This ain’t the real Wembley, and we sure as shit aren’t in London.” I tried to go past him and was neatly shoulder-barged. He took possession. “They recreated it to keep you at ease. If they showed you what really happened in here, it would actually melt your feeble mind.” I gave him an evil glance. “Hey, that ain’t me talking, it’s just what they told me to say!” He barged me again, flicked the ball up to head height and unleashed a ferocious volley which nearly broke the crossbar.

  “Shit”, I exclaimed.

  “Just gettin’ warmed up.” He wheeled away, setting up again. “Anyway, fuck that. Here’s the plan”. He bore down on goal. “Those Boffins at Takanli have sent over a Cruiser which is just for you. They’re kind of protective about their projects, so don’t break the damn thing, you hear?” I nodded and he scythed past me, shooting straight into the top corner. We exchanged again.

  “Where is it?”

  “Orbit. You’ll take the elevator up once you’re ready to go, and pilot the thing over to their Chrono-Research Station. It ain’t far.” I finally got my foot on the ball but he whisked it back and slotted it home.

  “But I’ve never flown a Cruiser before.”