Redeeming Factors (Revised)

by James R. Lane

  “Our advice to you is to simply accept the fact that the cybernetic box devices exist,” Eeoi’ha concluded, “and be exceedingly glad their unique services are available to you; otherwise you would face a future destined to be very short, most uncomfortable and very, very unhappy.”

  “But if you didn’t invent this…this ‘magical’ technology, who did, and how can you build what you don’t understand?” Ross was unwilling to leave the idea alone. “You can’t have just…just turned around one day and found it sitting on a table! Where in hell did it come from?”

  “Friend Jack,” the scientist said after a long, whistling sigh of frustration, “your comment in apparent jest is actually quite close to reality. Several years ago I was working on a totally unrelated project when I needed to refer to a book of extensive notes I had compiled during the previous seven months. While leafing through the pages I came across a section of new information, all obviously written by someone other than me. The material detailed the construction, operation and uses of a cybernetic box. It didn’t seem to make any sense, but since it was in my book of notes—notes, you must understand, that nobody else had access to—I decided to pursue it, more out of curiosity than for any hope it would actually work.”

  The Mn’rii scientist chittered momentarily; he was laughing, but uncharacteristically for a Mn’rii, it didn’t seem to contain any humor. “Much to my amazement, when we produced the various components and assembled them as directed, then sealed the container with the new molecular phase-shifting process also detailed in the instructions, the resulting device did exactly what the notes said it would do. After making sure word of the device would remain secret I set out to discover if anything else had been discovered along those lines. I was successful beyond my wildest dreams.”

  Eeoi’ha chittered again, nervously rubbing his bulbous black nose with a webbed finger. “I found that the very thing that brought all of our species together is, itself, a 7th level physics device. At a secret meeting on your Earth with the humans who claim to have invented the jumperdrive, I learned that they stumbled across the idea for it—along with detailed instructions on how to build it as well as the molecular phase shifting device used to seal and protect it—hidden in a book of carefully guarded technical notes. The rest you know or surely can guess.”

  Ross said nothing for a time, then stated, “You’re telling me that…that our respective species, our very civilizations, are being ‘tampered with’ by—”

  Eeoi’ha dryly finished, “Your people have a most succinct term: ‘Godlike Benevolent Aliens’, or GBAs for short. And yes, I, along with many other scientists of the more advanced civilizations including your own, stand convinced that we’ve been—as you put it—‘tampered with’ for generations, possibly since our respective species’ very beginnings.” The otter-like creature shrugged his narrow shoulders in an all-too-human gesture of resignation, adding, “But after this length of time what can we do about it other than continue using the devices? None of us wish to give up the boon of space travel, and we Mn’rii believe the potential benefits of the cybernetic box technology are almost beyond belief.”

  “You’re really saying that we’re all damned,” Ross stated wearily, his voice once again barely more than a whisper.

  The Mn’rii stared at him for several moments, then simply said, “At the moment all of us in this room are very much alive. However, if we wait much longer before we begin this process YOU might not live long enough to complete it, thereby joining the ranks of your so-called ‘damned’.”

  * * *

  Preparations were complicated, but sooner than Ross expected the Mn’rii announced they were ready to begin the process. “We plan to remove and store D’raan’s mental matrix first,” Eeoi’ha explained to the small crowd of human and H’kaah onlookers, “then do the same with Jack Ross’. Both removal processes should take no more than an Earth hour; emplacement into their new biological receptacles is no more complicated than the removal procedures, and should only require another hour.”

  The Mn’rii scientist padded over to a wall-mounted cabinet, opened a door and removed a device. When he returned to the two table-bound subjects he held an ominous-looking, yet frighteningly familiar device up for Ross’ visual inspection. “This will be used to make a total of twelve small holes in each skull; into those holes we will place wire-like probes.” D’raan’s articulated lab table was close enough to Ross’ for him to see and hear the scientist, and his one good eye widened in fear as he got a good look at the bulky, pistol-shaped instrument.

  “That looks like a…a Black & Decker cordless drill!” Ross exclaimed with more than a trace of panic in his voice.

  “In fact,” Eeoi’ha said, grinning and nodding his head, “that’s exactly what it is. We found that you humans make wonderful tools suitable for both surgery and the construction trade.” The alien cheerfully triggered the battery-powered drill, which had a long, quarter-inch-diameter tungsten carbide bit chucked into its business end. Then he approached Ross’ head, his grin widening. “Since you are incapable of moving, we won’t have to immobilize your body with straps like we did with D’raan.” He whirred the drill again.

  “Now wait just a damned minute!” Ross wailed weakly, and while he could not see the dark-furred H’kaah he was certain the alien’s features must be twisted in terror that was at least a match for his own. “When the hell are you gonna use some anesthetic? Most of my body’s dead, but my head’s still very much alive!”

  The Mn’rii glanced first at D’raan, then back at Ross. All the other Mn’rii in the room were grinning, too. “Anesthetic only serves to dilute the experience,” he said with an indulgent snicker, “and we thought you’d more fully appreciate the beauty of the process without such numbing effects.”

  Ross had been shocked speechless, and D’raan was obviously frightened beyond mere words. The other occupants of the operating theater, Ross’ horrified supporters and the Mn’rii scientists and technicians alike, had said little during the past few moments, but Cory Ross suddenly broke the visitors’ stunned silence by angrily snarling, “Bullshit! I didn’t bring my father all this way to be tortured by—”

  “Peace!” Eeoi’ha loudly exclaimed. “I was joking! Of course we will use an anesthetic. Only the barbaric Ruug’h perform surgical procedures without the benefits of painkillers. Nor will I use anything as unsophisticated as this to make the necessary pathways for the probes.” He gave everyone an incredibly toothy, cheerful grin as he handed the fearsome-looking drill to an equally cheerful assistant. “In fact, the holes will be so tiny that once the probes are no longer needed the wounds will completely heal in less than a day.”

  Jack Ross sighed and closed his eye, then after a long moment he softly said, “We humans have an old saying, Eeoi’ha: Paybacks are hell. If I come through this, my fine furry friend, I promise you a payback of historic magnitude—and I guarantee you’ll plead to your various gods for release long before I’m done with you.”

  “Coming from a person of your legendary talents, friend

  Jack Ross,” the scientist happily chirped, “I take that as a

  supreme compliment.”

  Work continued, and soon both Ross and D’raan had clamped, framed and wire-festooned skulls that resembled props from a bad science-fiction movie. Final encouragements and good-byes were exchanged, then Ross directed one additional comment to the dark-furred H’kaah on the nearby table.

  “While you might not find much comfort in these words, D’raan, I just want to say that you’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever had the honor to know.” The alien, completely immobilized by medical restraints, could do little more than tremble in his fear. “With luck,” Ross added, “I’ll see you on the other side.”

  “I’ll put my faith in your luck,” the terrified alien managed to whisper, “and hope for a better future for us all.”

  * * *

  In time Jack Ross felt a tickling deep inside his head.
Since the living brain has no capability to feel pain or sensation he knew the alien cybernetic box had to be responsible. Exactly what it was doing was something the man didn’t want to contemplate, but since he had not heard any screams from D’raan, who was supposed to be well ahead of him in the procedure, Ross figured it probably wasn’t too terrible. Then he realized that besides being totally paralyzed, he was now blind and apparently deaf; he couldn’t blink, he couldn’t talk, he didn’t even know if he was breathing. Screaming was certainly out of the question.

  Too bad.

  The tickling became an incessant itch, then an almost sub-audible whir that set his nerves on edge the way fingernails dragged down a chalkboard invariably did. Ross began feeling mentally stretched, like a big rubber band, and just as the bizarre feeling became unendurable there was a world—encompassing SNAP—

  And then nothing.

  * * *

  “That concludes the storage process,” Eeoi’ha stated to the anxious humans and H’kaah alike. “The mental matrixes of both D’raan and Jack Ross are safely stored in their respective cybernetic boxes, and now we can begin the second stage of the process.” Mn’rii technicians began fussing with the multitude of wires.

  Cory Ross, his sister Trudy and S’leen hesitantly approached the senior Ross’ virtually motionless form; it breathed, its heart still rhythmically beat, all to the regular impulses of outside stimuli. “Goodbye, Daddy,” the young woman whispered, her eyes filling with tears.

  S’leen gently stroked the pale, naked skin of Jack Ross’ right cheek. She softly chittered something that only the two nearby humans heard, then explained to their questioning glances, “I thanked him for loving me.” She looked directly at the humans, adding, “Your father gave me a kind of love that is all too rare among my people. Jack explained to me shortly before he was shot that H’kaah society has many similarities to your ancient Japanese, but what he did not know is that while we have binding marriage customs it is rare for a paired couple to share the level of…of affection that he and I had.”

  Both of Ross’ children looked surprised at the alien’s revelation, but before they could comment she said, “I’m sorry if our relationship offended you, and I hope it won’t diminish your feelings for your father. Jack loved you both very much, and on many occasions he talked proudly of your accomplishments, and of the grandchildren you, Trudy, have given him.” She hung her head, adding, “I…I wish I could have met them before I left Earth, but perhaps it’s better I didn’t.”

  Trudy Bond frowned, then startled the female H’kaah with a quick hug. “While Cory and I don’t always agree on things,” she stated, “I think we agree on this: Daddy loved you, and that, if for no other reason, makes you special to us. We love our father, S’leen, and we’re grateful that you brought some sunshine into his life.” She hugged the alien again, adding, “And if you come back to Earth I’ll make sure you get to visit with his grandchildren. That’s a promise.” Trudy Bond took one last look at her father’s living husk, then she walked stiffly away to rejoin the small group of humans and H’kaah standing off to the side.

  Cory Ross had endured numerous shocks in the past few years, but Jack Ross had raised his children to be tough and resourceful. Learning of his mother’s death several years earlier had been like a knife through his heart, then his father’s possibly fatal shooting just a few days earlier had cruelly twisted the knife’s blade. It was only when he and his sister arrived to see their dying father that they learned of the man’s unusual relationship with the exotic female alien standing next to him. Knowing that this non-human person had brought a brief period of happiness to the senior Ross’ otherwise grim recent life made the H’kaah’s statements all the more confusing.

  He carefully laid a hand on S’leen’s shoulder and when she looked at him in surprise he gently said, “We need to talk.” Casually glancing at the others in the big room he added, “There won’t be much to see for almost an hour, so why don’t the two of us walk back out to Jane, have a Coke or something, and see if we can clear up a few misconceptions.”

  S’leen looked momentarily alarmed, but quickly covered it; not, however, without Cory Ross taking notice. “Let me ask you something,” he softly said, his voice carefully neutral. “Did you fear my father? Did you ever believe that he would hurt you?” When she said no he quietly stated, “Then understand this: I’m my father’s son. While I don’t have the kind of background my father had, you’re still as safe in my hands as you were in his.” She blinked, took a deep breath, then nodded. “C’mon,” he urged, “let’s get out of this morgue.”

  Outside was a landscape not unlike Earth’s rolling New England hills. Trees looked close enough to Earth-native varieties to pass casual inspection, and it was the same with the lush grass and Kodak-blue sky. Bird-like creatures trilled and twittered in the nearby woodlands and were answered by the occasional brightly colored alien flier as it swooped overhead. “Everywhere I’ve traveled,” Ross said as they slowly strolled toward his father’s starship, Jane, “I’ve found one consistent thing: When the sentient life is ‘our’ kind of life, the world that supports it is invariably this kind of place.” The H’kaah looked around and nodded, and he added, “I’ve never been to your homeworld, S’leen, but I’d bet it’s a lot like this one—or like Earth.”

  “Your world is the first alien place I visited,” she said, “and this is the second. Both appear similar to my world, and I, too, believe there is a common thread weaving all our species together. Jack and I talked at length about the GBA theory, and nothing I’ve learned to date has run counter to it.”

  They eventually reached the absurd looking little ship and went aboard, and Cory Ross fetched two cold plastic bottles of Coke from the small refrigerator in the galley. “Please—sit,” he said after handing the H’kaah one, then he paused to pull heavily on his. He directed her to the back of the cabin where he sprawled at one end of the wide minivan seat while the obviously nervous alien sat primly at the other end. After a strained silence he smiled, then suddenly said, “Boo!” S’leen jumped, nearly dropping her drink.

  “That was mean!” she complained while he snickered around his soda bottle.

  “Did Dad ever do that to you?” he asked, grinning.

  “Yes!” she retorted.

  “And did you fuss at him when he did it?”

  “Y-yes,” she said, her annoyance melting away as she recalled the memories. “He…he always laughed, too, especially if I spilled something.” She blinked several times, and tears began skittering down her furry cheeks. “I couldn’t stay angry at him, though. It was just one of his ways of…of s-showing that he loved me.” She set her soda bottle down and cried.

  Careful to keep from appearing threatening, Ross offered a clean handkerchief to the softly sobbing alien. She dabbed at her large, amber eyes, wiped at the wet fur on her cheeks, then honked her tiny pink-rimmed nose. In time she got her emotions under control, then offered to return the used handkerchief.

  “Keep it,” Ross said with a poorly hidden smile. “You might need it again.” She covered her embarrassment with a sip of soda, then the man decided it was time to press on.

  “From what I’m hearing from you,” he said gently, “there appears to be some confusion concerning your role in this whole matter. I don’t know where you got the notion that my sister and I don’t approve of our father’s relationship with you.” The H’kaah just looked at him, her expression unreadable. “Trudy stated this a short while ago, and now I’m telling you the same thing: That notion is wrong. We think Dad was planning to surprise us with you, but the first we knew of your existence was after we were contacted about the shooting.

  “Trudy is married and has a family; she and her husband, Wes, own a small restaurant in Los Angeles, a city in a big state on the west coast of our country, and they spend virtually all of their time running the business and caring for their twin daughters. When she flew into the Jacksonville airport Teddy Shapir
o had her picked up and brought directly to the hospital, and she was briefed on current events in transit.

  “I, on the other hand,” he said with a frown, “have spent the past six months stationed at a security outpost orbiting the undisputed armpit of the universe, the Ruug’h homeworld. That ‘military person’ you contacted pulled strings I didn’t know existed to get an emergency message to me, and it got even more incredible when my commanding officer granted me immediate, indefinite leave, as well as furnishing me with a starship to bring me home. Teddy Shapiro briefed me on the Patrons situation, along with your part in it, as I headed up to the trauma center’s ICU.” The lapin alien’s expression remained unreadable.

  He smiled, saying, “Honestly, S’leen, Trudy and I are thrilled that you and Dad have such a wonderful relationship. God knows, Dad needs someone to love, someone who loves him. And if this crazy process works, S’leen, he’ll need you more than ever.”

  Ross finally recognized her expression as one of despair. She slowly shook her head, saying, “Jack’s entire world is going to change…change far more than he thinks it will. How can you say that there will still be a mutual attraction?”

  Instead of directly answering her Ross carefully asked, “Will you still love him?”

  After a moment of silence she said, “I must answer your question with a question of my own: Will the H’kaah male Jack Ross care about one plain H’kaah female out of the millions of more-desirable females he will have available to him?”

  This time it was Cory Ross’ turn to be confused. “OK, S’leen, help me with this. Dad’s crazy about you, so how’s that going to change for the worse? If anything, I’d think he’d be even crazier in love with you once he’s settled into his new— his new skin. And as for being ‘desirable’—I, for one, don’t think you have a thing to worry about.” He grinned, but was dismayed when she violently shook her head, causing her ears to flop.