Voyage

by C. Paul Lockman

  “No problem… that was incredible.” Bassar was already motioning to the screen again. This time the target was the moon. “Hey there”, I whispered fondly. The camera zoomed right in on an area in the centre of the moon’s face and continued until we could see individual craters and mountain ridges. To my amazement, there was a reflection on the surface and some objects. At maximum zoom, it seemed, the probe locked onto this small patch of the surface long enough for us to see a little white car with two people in spacesuits making its way across the surface.

  “Apollo 16 at Hadley Rille. John Young and Charlie Duke”. I stared at the screen in utter amazement. “Sweet sixteen has arrived”, he quoted. “It was surely one of your greatest achievements. I hope you are proud of your species.”

  I certainly was proud. More than ever before. Watching those two explorers careering around the lunar surface with such comparatively basic technology brought a lump to my throat. Quotes from the Apollo program came flooding back. ‘Mankind must explore…’; ‘We choose to go to the moon!’; ‘Tranquillity base here…the Eagle has landed’. I was almost in tears at the thought that I had joined those intrepid men, had travelled millions of times further and seen a thousand times more, and that now I was on my way home to help my ailing planet. This is what exploration was about. And those men had planted the seed, without knowing it, with their words and their actions.

  Bassar had paused the movie while I was in this reverie, waiting patiently beside me. He knew what was going on. “Want to watch your folks get married?”

  I blinked, nodded, dried my eyes. There they were, looking fantastic, mum in her white dress and dad in a blue suit. They were outside the church, with the photographer busying around them, getting people together. Up in orbit, another photographer was doing an even better job. It was from a high angle, nothing to be done about that, but the detail and resolution were incredible.

  “They are no longer alive, is that correct?” I nodded. “I am sorry. You must feel their loss, but I cannot empathise. There is no death here.” I wasn’t surprised to at this, given Holdrian’s technological sophistication, but it was still an extraordinary thing to hear. “Perhaps you can bring greater longevity to your planet.” An off-hand remark with enormous ramifications.

  As I watched them head to their car and leave the church, crowd waving in the wake, I was as homesick as ever I had been. “You haven’t got video of me being born, have you?”, I asked, not really ready for that particular experience.

  “No, sorry, the cameras have trouble penetrating rooves and ceilings. This model can’t see through material as thick as concrete or steel. But”, he raised a finger to the screen, “watch this.”

  There was a blue car on a sunny day. I recognised it instantly. Dealy Plaza, Dallas, Texas. From an angle no-one had ever seen before. I watched, enthralled, as it played itself out. Once it was over, with the Presidential car streaking away, carrying the mortally wounded Kennedy, I turned to Bassar. “You know how important this could be?”

  He smiled. “Of course. We’ll give you a copy of all this, and the rest of the data. These are just the highlights. There’s a bunch of stuff you’ll want to see, much of which relates to Earth history. It might help you explode a few myths when you get back there.”

  I watched the movie, chatting occasionally with Bassar. There were many more treats. We saw Johann Sebastian Bach walking to work at the St Thomas Church in Leipzig in 1724. We watched the assassination attempt on General Heydrich in Budapest in 1944 and the landings at Normandy the same year. We watched Apollo 17 lift off from Florida at night. There was even that horribly unforgettable white smudge in the sky which was Challenger coming apart in 1986. These, he repeated, were the highlights.

  “What’s wrong with myths?”, I wanted to know. “If I play some of this stuff, the controversial things, it could have just a massive impact. Change people’s lives, their whole world-views. Is it right to disturb humanity in such a way?”

  Bassar let the movie show its last two scenes – Hendrix at Woodstock and the sinking of the Titanic – and then answered.

  “It depends if you’re happy to live your life being lied to.” I focussed hard, recognizing the accumulated wisdom to which I had miraculously been granted access. “There is an answer to everything, even the greatest mysteries. To bury one’s head in the sands of ignorance, revelling in self-serving myth and ignoring the actual truth, is damaging and irresponsible. Your planet suffers very gravely from this. Governments, religions, social institutions… they all interpret the truth, rather than simply serving the truth, respecting the truth. If your people are still buried under an avalanche of stone-age religious myth, it might be time to take a closer look at your methods of enquiry, and at your education system.”

  I nodded, but his dismissing of human beliefs seemed naive, as if they had played no positive role. “Most people are comfortable with their beliefs. They find them helpful, that they provide security and comfort in a weird world.”

  He held up a hand. “Your planet supports beings who have sent representatives to their moon and probed deeply into their solar system, and yet, many still hold a belief in a supernatural creator. This is quite absurd.” He said it simply, finally. I saw that there was no discussing this question with him.

  The final credits were rolling and we both got up and walked into the lobby of the theatre. “Did you find that illuminating?”

  I smiled at him, put a hand on his shoulder. “That blew my mind. The technology alone… and the concept… amazing. Thank you.”

  We walked out of the theatre, and were back in the airport-style waiting area I had originally walked into from the Cruiser. “How do you feel?”

  I wondered what he meant. “I feel great. I’m enjoying being here.”

  He looked at me, then off to the side, out at the strange, artificial planet beneath us. “How does the day after tomorrow sound?”

  I gulped. “I’m supposed to spend two weeks here. I signed an agreement to that effect which was crystal clear about changes in the schedule…”

  “Who do you think devised the schedule?” he said, smiling.

  *****

  There was a lot of work to be done, but the efficiency and organisational skills of these people were simply matchless. I was in fairly much constant meetings, discussing both the technical aspects of Chrono-travel, to gain a more complete understanding of their methods, and the more practical, down-to-earth (!) implications.

  We were two hours into an intense planning meeting. “If the Cruiser is at the bottom of a lake”, Cyto wanted to know, “how are you going to get out your resource suitcases?” Cyto had been Bassar’s partner during their successful time-travel experiment, and he now helped run the program.

  I thought about this one. “I could bring them out with me when I leave the Cruiser”, I offered, “and leave them at the bottom of the hill. Once I’ve seen myself leave, I return to the same spot, pick them up and walk back to my car with them.”

  “You have a vehicle?” Cyto asked, bringing up satellite photos of Snowdonia on the date in question. He zoomed in to the mountain top where I was actually visible, climbing up the final rise, and then east, across the lake, to a small parking area with only two cars in it. Mine was the battered, white VW Golf. “Who’s is the other vehicle?”

  It was a red Ford Granada. “I haven’t a clue. I didn’t see another soul all day.” Cyto flipped to a different image from later in the day. The red car was gone but the white one remained. Then, another from dawn, the time I was going to arrive. “No-one there. Excellent.”

  We mulled over more details. “When are you going to get out of the Cruiser?”

  I tapped my lectern, reviewing the work Garlidan and I had done on that question. “About an hour before dawn. I’ll leave the cases, walk into the village…”

  “How far is that?” Cyto pulled up the screen again. It was both a little irritating and very comforting to have someone who wouldn’t let
a single detail of this plan pass without scrutiny. Nothing could go wrong, I had insisted. No-one could see the Cruiser. No-one could discover the cases. My own abduction must absolutely not be interfered with. I must not give the impression that anything out of the ordinary was going on. But it was equally crucial that we ensure continuity; I would simply pick up where I had left off, as if the Takanli science vessel had never arrived. Only I would be a markedly different Welshman from the hapless hiker on the mountain above.

  “It is about two miles, which will take less than half an hour.”

  “Don’t walk too fast and draw attention to yourself”, Cyto warned. I smiled slightly. This was Snowdonia at 5.30 in the morning. I don’t think I’ll have to push through any crowds to get to the village. The only thing people drove down the road for was to climb the mountains or take photos.

  I would eat breakfast at the local pub-café, which opened early, and then walk back to the cases. Leaving the Cruiser any later than dawn would risk being seen. I would look odd enough as it was, in a black exposure suit, hauling three suitcases behind me.

  I had a thought. “Why don’t I just Relocate?”

  Cyto gave me a look which bordered on contempt. “Does your planet have a Relocation infrastructure?” I shook my head. “I thought not. A thousand years after your arrival, perhaps. Not on Day One.” I smiled, embarrassed, and we moved on to discussing the route back to my home. “Is it secure?”

  “My house?” Cyto nodded, slightly wearily. “Sure. I mean, I’ve never been burgled, and it is well known as a safe area. There is a primary school down the road, and a police station half a mile away.”

  “It is your police I am primarily worried about.” I explained how things worked, how no-one would search my house without good reason, and I’d have to be involved in a crime or something to even gain police attention.

  I rubbed my eyes. “Enhanced learning capacity or not, I’d love a break”, I said and looked at my watch. The meeting had lasted four hours and we had much more to discuss. “Mind if I grab a breath of fresh air?”

  We broke up and I wandered around the facility. Perhaps for my benefit, or perhaps just for the aesthetic pleasure of it, this part of the planet was given a red-orange Martian sky. I marvelled for the hundredth time at their technology. Much of it was practical, functional – like Relocation or Chrono-Travel or their ability to traffic huge quantities of information and analyse it in seconds – but they hadn’t skimped on the artistic side. It was captivating to see science and aesthetics so beautifully entwined.

  Bassar wandered onto the patio I had occupied, looking up with me at the fake sky. “It is impressive, no?” He was, to my utter amazement, smoking a cigar. “I saw one of your leaders smoke them, and thought I would try one.” I laughed for at least a minute.

  “All you need now are the bowler hat, the grim expression and the life-changing speeches.”

  He did his best with the face and scowled, “This is not the end. This is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.” Not bad. I applauded enthusiastically and he bowed low. Bassar was so much more the relaxed of the two, the fun-lover, the joker.

  “How are things going in there?” he asked.

  “Long, complex, but useful. Cyto is a thorough man”. I regretted the comment. Bassar would know Cyto better than anyone. “I mean, he’s leading us well. We’re getting it done.”

  Bassar smiled at my discomfort. “We were a great team. Still are. Our methods vary, but the quality of the results is the same. As you say on your planet, ‘there is more than one way to skin a cat’.”

  The meeting resumed and we plunged into details. How I would begin the manufacturing process. How I would keep everything secret. My cover story, what I would say to friends and remaining family. The effects of leaving the Cruiser underwater for years (none, I was assured). And then target selection. Interception routes. All were discussed. It began to come together.

  *****

  The day before I was due to take part in the Experiment, as they called it, I found myself with time on my hands. I had been working virtually flat-out for 36 hours, with only a short rest period in the middle, but I couldn’t sleep now. Tomorrow I would do what no human had ever done. Given the monstrous complexity of the procedure, it might be millennia until anyone did it again. I felt as ready for such a challenge as I knew how to be.

  I called up Bassar on my communicator. “Do you mind if I take off for a few hours? I’ll be back before nightfall. I just need to get out of here for a bit, unwind. You know.”

  He checked with some colleagues and called me back to agree. The only proviso was that if I was late, the experiment would be cancelled and I’d have to wait several weeks for my next chance. I expressed gratitude for his flexibility.

  I Relocated back to my Cruiser’s bay and got permission to leave. I had only five hours before I was due back. I was quickly on the move, edging away from the station, and then as soon as it was safe I engaged the engines and accelerated to just under 0.01-C within a minute. To push past this barrier would risk all the weird effects we had withstood on Daedalus and waste a lot of fuel. I would need the rest to get back quickly, depending on how long things took.

  I decided to forgo any of Holdrian’s elevators, not prepared to wait for a car to arrive, and took the Cruiser straight into the atmosphere. My navigation system discussed my entry route with Holdrian Control, and without my having to do much of anything, the Cruiser proceeded smoothly to the glider port just outside the city. I made a couple of calls during the descent, used the cabin to change out of my flight gear, combed my unruly hair and strapped in for landing. We rolled to a stop on the huge runway and I quickly taxied to a hangar, parked up and called a cab.

  Twenty minutes later I was in Aldara’s apartment. Most of our clothes had already been discarded, including her panties. My tongue was exploring her cunt while she sucked and licked my erection, which was just bursting with desire for her.

  “I’m so happy… you’ve come back…” she managed to say between mouthfuls of my penis. I moaned something in reply, focussing on her pussy with its soft, suckable outer lips and juicy, delicious opening. She was doing lovely things to my cock, keeping a steady rhythm going with her hands while lavishing kisses and tongue-strokes on its tip. She was going to get a mouthful of sperm if she carried on like that.

  I disengaged reluctantly but she made up for the loss of her oral skills by impaling herself on me immediately. I loved watching my cock disappear into her, and the pure pleasure on her face as she got used to my length and girth stretching her little pussy. Juices ran down my shaft and coated my balls as she reached her third orgasm of the afternoon, adding to those I’d given her with my mouth. She lifted her hands over her head as we made love, showing her amazing breasts with their hard, brown nipples.

  Before I was ready to come, I switched things around. She knelt up for me and I slid into her cunt from behind while she masturbated fervently. Holding her hips, I gave her strokes which used my whole cock, drawing back my foreskin each time and exposing it to the warmth and suction of her pussy. I could feel her orgasm approaching and decided to join her. As her cunt muscles rippled and she opened her mouth to gasp in pleasure, I began to pour sperm into her. My climax pushed her along, higher and further, and she collapsed forward on the bed, releasing my cock, which was still pumping sperm from its tip. Hot splashes coated her buttocks and lower back.

  We lay together quietly, talking and kissing. The relief within my balls was tremendous.

  “Are you ready to go?” she asked, towelling the sticky cum from her skin.

  “I think so. The Vortex is functioning, my ship is OK. I guess I’m OK too. I’m going to miss so much that I’ve seen here.”

  She kissed me, cuddled with me on the bed. “I will miss you”, she said. “I could fall in love with you, if we had more time together.” I kissed her forehead. “I certainly love fucking you.” I glanced at my
watch, and was struck by an absurdity; I would set out tomorrow on a journey during which I would be asleep for forty years, but I couldn’t find half an hour to have unabashed, passionate sex with a beautiful woman?

  She sensed my anguish, and the sad limitations on my time. “Surely we have time for one more...”

  I feigned hesitation, bringing my watch right up to my face. “I don’t know...”

  She simply pushed me back and enthusiastically bathed my body with her warm tongue. I revelled in the sensations. Her licks were broad and delicate, as if my skin featured a delicious gloss whose taste she loved. Her tongue traced my stomach, lapping warmly over my belly button, then down to the trimmed hairs which adorned my pubis. She licked the sensitive crease between my inner thigh and my balls, which were boiling away in anticipation of this, perhaps my last orgasm for decades.

  “Hmmmm, turn over”, she purred. My cock was a little disappointed to find itself buried in the bed, rather than in her mouth, but my ass was loving the attention of her flickering tongue. I felt her hands part my buttocks and her mouth placing gentle kisses all over them, from the small of my back, down along my ass crack, to my balls which nestled underneath. My cock, flattened under my belly and still rock hard, swelled as she licked closer and closer to where, you’ll be surprised to learn, no-one had ever kissed. I awaited that first, warm, wet contact with dizzying excitement.

  Opening my ass with the flats of her palms, and taking a second to stroke my anus with her fingers, she very gently pressed the tip of her tongue against my anal opening. I nearly came, but held back, wanting so much more. The sheer joy of breaking this taboo, of experiencing perhaps the most intimate of acts, sizzled through my body like a drug. Aldara began a rhythmic licking across the opening of my anus, pausing often to push her tongue, pointed and exploring, inside me. Her hands wandered, fingertips stroking my back and thighs, while her mouth remained glued to my bumhole. She actually seemed to love it. I wondered aloud where she had learned her technique.