Test of Magnitude (The Torian Reclamation)

by Kasch, Andy

Mip7 surrendered the case.

  “I need to get to Research Lab 71 now,” Mip7 said. “I took the public rail here from the spaceport. Can you tell me the best way to proceed?”

  “I assume you already have clearance?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you can use the green tube to get to RL-70 and walk from there, as it is right next door. RL-71 is the large complex on the ground. You can’t miss it. If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you to the green tube station.”

  “Thank you, sir.” He followed Director Lan2 through a security gate, and then through two large glass doors that led outside to a fifth-story observation deck. They stepped onto a large escalator to descend to the ground level.

  Mip7 looked around and remembered his only other visit here, back with his university class. The C2 Amulen Science Complex was an impressive feat of architecture, and the view from the escalator ride allowed one to take in much of it. For one thing, it was large. Buildings and towers of different shapes, colors, materials, and sizes crisscrossed the countryside to the horizon and beyond. Many structures were single-story and arranged in interesting geometric shapes with center courtyards. Towers and taller buildings protruded here and there, some of which were constructed of dark moriglass in different shades, such as dark blue or red, and others which were metallic or plaster, some with disc-shaped platforms near the top. Several round domes could be seen within the complex, including one built of a beautiful emerald moriglass that was surrounded by exotic vegetation. Plant life was prevalent in the fields between the buildings and along the footpaths, including mini-forests and hedge mazes. Large greenhouses in some spots were being used for experimental agriculture.

  Several modes of transportation could be seen operating, including hoverbusses full of students, and the various tube-transit systems marked by the above-ground tube-rails in their different colors. More than 80% of all Torian scientific research and development came from this vast compound, which covered nearly 7% of the continent and employed tens of thousands. At one time Mip7 thought he wanted to work here, but every young native who visits this place for the first time leaves with that same thought.

  “Director,” Mip7 said as they neared the ground level, “what department do you work in, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Space flight, now. I’m in charge of particle recycling in propulsion systems, although I have full military clearance to intervene in all matters of propulsion design. I basically have a license to interrupt others’ work and tell them they have been doing it all wrong, maybe for months, and need to start over—which isn’t too popular, as you might imagine. I don’t abuse the power often, though, and mostly stay in my little corner of particle boost research. It’ll be a nice break to have a fun little reverse-engineering project.” He raised the game in his hand slightly.

  They arrived on the ground, walked a short distance to a hovertram and boarded it. They both chose to stand and hold a handrail. After a short wait, during which several other scientists and visitors boarded, the whirring sound of hovercraft ignition preceded the gentle elevation of the tram car, and it began to move. The unmistakable odor of hover fuel filled the air around them. It reminded Mip7 of the smell from starting a campfire by laser-heating cortzye stones.

  “Why can’t you guys design a cleaner burning hover fuel?” Mip7 asked. Lan2 didn’t laugh. He probably heard that comment every day.

  “Making it smell better isn’t my job. I just recycle it so it lasts a lot longer. I actually did work in ground transportation for several years, and this tram now gets over 300% improved fuel economy from the work we did there. Unfortunately, it will still be years before it is integrated into the public systems.”

  The tram ride made two more stops before arriving at a small half-dome shaped building where the green tube connected. Mip7 thanked the director for his hospitality before leaving him on the hovertram. Several of the other passengers got off with Mip7 and accompanied him into the tube station to wait.

  The tube trains were not like the lightrail Mip7 took from the spaceport, as they didn’t use hover technology. The cars did hover in the center of the tube, but there was no cortzye stone smell because these trains didn’t burn any fuel. They operated purely on electromagnetic power, which was becoming a popular alternative energy source on Amulen. The tube train was still something of a novelty, however, and was currently only in use outside the Science Complex in several of the largest cities and amusement parks.

  The tube car arrived. It had the appearance of a giant can, a short section of tube within a tube. Mip7 boarded with the others who were waiting. It accelerated so smoothly you wouldn’t know you were moving if you couldn’t see outside. It gathered speed quickly, however, and left most of the conglomerated buildings near the Science Complex entrance behind. Now the buildings were spread out more with scenic countryside separating them. The tube was running along a support structure of bridges which were becoming elevated higher and higher above the treetops. The tube stopped at RL-40 first, then RL-50, RL-60, and finally RL-70. These facilities were all located in disc-shaped structures atop of towers.

  Mip7 got off at the RL-70 station and took the lift down to the ground level. He could see the RL-71 compound from inside the glass elevator. It was huge, made of eight large octagon-shaped buildings connected together, which all had center courtyards. There was also one massive courtyard in the middle of the entire compound.

  When he reached the ground, Mip7 walked over to the entrance doorway that led to the reception lobby for RL-71 and passed through. There was no one else in the lobby. Two administrators were behind the front desk. He approached them.

  “Tulros. I am Mip7 from Cardinal-4. I was expecting to meet someone here.”

  One of the administrators activated a lightpad. “The name of the person you are here to see?”

  “I don’t know,” Mip7 replied. “I was to meet my associate here, a Sheen by the name of Arkan9. He would have set the proper appointments for us.”

  The two administrators looked at each other in a manner Mip7 thought betrayed condescendence.

  “Yes,” one of them said, “the Sheen is in already in conference with Director Markin1 and Professor Yob3. I can show you back.”

  Mip7 followed him down the hallway and could shortly see Arkan9 with the two scientists behind the glass wall of a conference room. Arkan9 was wearing his cloak and hood. One of the scientists was making hand motions as he spoke. He seemed to be agitated.

  The door to the room slid open automatically and the administrator announced Mip7. They all looked at him curiously. One of the scientists was an Amulite wearing the same director’s collar Lan2 wore; the other a fellow Banorian. The scientists sat together at one end of the long table. Arkan9 was in the middle of the table with his back to the wall. Several empty seats were between them. Mip7 took a seat opposite Arkan9.

  Arkan9 spoke. “Director Markin1, Professor Yob3, Mip7 is my assistant on this project.”

  “Tulros,” Mip7 said.

  “I’m not sure ‘project’ is the proper word here,” Markin1 said. “We consent to giving you full access to the research facility, and allowing you to review all the data assembled on the Earth species—but understand you cannot have free reign for conducting your own experiments.”

  “Our project was commissioned by Chancellor Renal5 and Governor Stugin2 of Cardinal-4,” Arkan9 said. “They have collaborated, and wish for us to have full clearance in all manner of research suitable for our purpose. You can verify this yourself with the chancellor’s office.”

  Markin1 shook his head. “We cannot have you poking and prodding the research subjects. You don’t understand the science of cryonic maintenance. We must not disturb the balance in their environment.”

  “I understand more about balance than you suppose,” Arkan9 said, “and it is not our intent to poke and prod them, but to fully revive them.”

  “Extat!” Markin1 exclaimed. Both scientists stood up, send
ing their chairs flying backwards.

  Mip7 began to stand as a reflex motion, but noticed Arkan9 was calm and remaining in his seat—so he stayed put.

  “That is out of the question and preposterous!” Markin1 said. He grabbed his light pad and began poking at it furiously.

  “Be sure you copy that message to the chancellor’s office,” Arkan9 said, “as the C2 governor will only forward it there, being as his authority is limited in this matter.”

  Markin1 glared at Arkan9 for a long moment, and then appeared to regain his composure. He sat back down. Professor Yob3, however, remained standing and was focusing on Mip7.

  “What interest does the space station have in our galactic species collections?” Yob3 asked.

  The question drew all of their attention to Mip7. He had no idea how to respond. Instead of employing his usual strategy in uncertain situations—remaining silent—he opened his mouth and began speaking, hoping something relevant and intelligent-sounding would come forth.

  “My governor is suspicious of certain recent visitors to Cardinal-4. He is concerned about what appears to be security breaches having taken place. We have been informed that these particular research subjects of yours, the Earth beings, may have special knowledge and abilities which will assist in rectifying the security situation there. That is all I know.”

  Yob3 seemed satisfied with the answer and sat back down. Mip7 felt a wave of relief.

  “It is a cruelty,” Arkan9 said, “and a breach of Erob law, to continue to keep the Earthlings in comatose. You know that. These are intelligent humanoids who are highly emotionally developed, and they possess a great love of life. They were abducted from their home planet in a manner which disrupted the lives of their fellow beings, to which they cannot now be returned. Such abductions in the name of science have since been discontinued as a result of public outcry. Unless you have urgent scientific need of data from specific ongoing experiments which affect the good of Tora, you cannot justify the continuance of this situation.”

  “They are an underdeveloped species, and fragile,” Yob3 said in response. “It may do them a disservice to resuscitate them in a foreign environment. Also, as you have pointed out yourself, they are emotional and will be upset over their abduction.”

  “They can be acclimated gradually and ethically,” Arkan9 said. “We will explain to them that their abduction was in their best interest, to save them from coming disasters on their own planet.”

  Yob3 cocked his head. “Dishonesty from a Sheen? Times are certainly changing. Perhaps the Earthlings will not believe the lie.”

  “Why do you assume it is a lie?” Arkan9 said.

  Markin1 interrupted. “There’s more to it than that, I’m afraid. No such resuscitation process has ever been established. We are simply not prepared for such an undertaking. It would be monumental. There are more than 300 subjects, and they were taken over a 50-year period. Earthlings are a violent and warring race. They are unhealthy and carry diseases, and thus have a short lifespan. Even if we were to find a way to allocate the resources to such a project, which is doubtful, having this race live among us would present a potential danger to both them and us.”

  Arkan9 leaned forward and spoke in a slightly louder voice. “There are 372 subjects, Director, and they were taken over a 55-year Tora period, which roughly equates to a 45-year Earth period. You have analyzed every living organism found in their blood and tissue, and know they present no threat to us. In fact, the diseases which plague them on Earth cannot thrive here in Tora, and the atmosphere of our worlds will slow their aging process. They will live long, healthy lives here, and only need gravity-adjusting footwear and transmitter implants to become fully functioning, integrated members of Torian society.”

  Markin1 threw his hands in the air. He looked over at Mip7 and said, “Tell your governor our facility has also apparently suffered a serious security breach.”

  Yob3 spoke. “How exactly do you propose to accomplish this? Have the Amulen Chancellor and space station governor provided you with resources and a procedure?”

  “We expect the full cooperation of Research Lab 71 staff and resources,” Arkan9 replied.

  Markin1 and Yob3 both laughed.

  “You have your work cut out for you then,” Markin1 said. “This facility is running at full capacity on projects scheduled for years in advance. It looks as though you two are the entire team, and it will take time before you even learn enough about the equipment to be able to safely handle it.”

  “We’ll start by accepting what you have already agreed to,” Arkan9 said. “That tour you mentioned, with full access granted to the facility and the data. Meanwhile, I will contact Chancellor Renal5 about allocating us the required resources.”

  Markin1 scowled. He apparently took Arkan9’s last comment as a threat.

  “There is something else you have not considered,” Yob3 interjected. “Cryonic maintenance is a touchy matter. The subjects have been preserved for many years, but there is a progressive state to the maintenance, which itself has been updated and changed as the science has developed. We cannot know if the condition of all the subjects will be consistent. Those taken 70 years ago will be in a different chemical state than those taken 20 years ago. Some may not survive the resuscitation, or suffer physical damage from the process. Because the science has changed, and some subjects have had new chemical adaptations implemented in their chambers, sometimes due to specific experiments, there is a risk that, at some point in the process, a change occurred which will make any revival attempt dangerous for some of them.”

  “The risk is our responsibility to manage,” Arkan9 said. “I have the Chancellor’s endorsement, and, as you have heard, there is urgent space station business which also depends on our moving forward.”

  An uncomfortable silence now fell upon the room. The scientists looked upon the visitors and all sat still. This was one of those situations where the next person to speak would probably lose. In spite of that, Mip7 chose to speak next.

  “If we begin by reviving only the first and last subjects taken, it will be a small enough undertaking for the two of us to handle—will it not? And the results should indicate whether or not a problem has developed along the line somewhere in the cryonic chamber maintenance. Correct? If we are able to revive those two subjects successfully, it would at least tell us the process is feasible.”

  The two scientists looked at each other for a short while, and finally nodded to each other.

  Yob3 then looked back at Mip7 with apparent newfound respect. “You seem to at least possess a scientific mind for problem solving, which alleviates some of my fears.”

  “All right,” Markin1 said. “Two subjects, then. And only those two subjects, the first and the last to arrive. They must be fully revived and acclimated, integrated into Torian society, monitored, and scientifically observed for a reasonable period. Only when enough data has been gathered to indicate a high chance of success can we entertain the resuscitation of further subjects, and determine what kind of scale it may be done on, if at all. We will need a full endorsement from upper government and a defined procedure before moving to a second phase. I will be involved in that process, and will have my voice heard by the chancellor before any further scaling decisions are made.”

  Arkan9 smiled warmly at Mip7 and nodded. They all stood up.

  “Take them to the Earth wing,” Markin1 instructed to Yob3. “Show them everything, and get them started on training materials.” He left towards the reception area.

  “This way,” Yob3 said. “It should be …interesting. Yes, very interesting to attempt to revive your two subjects, and see what condition they come to.”

  Mip7 and Arkan9 followed.

  Chapter Three

  Brandon loved jumping dreams. The kind where you feel you are on the moon and can leap great distances in slow motion. It was almost like flying. He had occasional flying dreams as well, but usually his continued attempts to fly in them fail
ed at some point and resulted in only long jumps instead. That was okay, too.

  This particular jumping dream was a little creepy, however, as he was inside a white rubber room with no doors or windows. But the ceiling was far above, and he could jump so high and so far he felt like Superman. There was one other person in the room with him; a young man with long, unkempt hair and a full beard. They were both jumping around like children inside an inflatable bounce house, laughing and emitting sounds of unbridled joy. Brandon didn’t know who his companion was, and didn’t care. Who questions dreams while you are in them? It didn’t even matter that they were both in their underwear.

  “Try this, man!” the other guy said. He sprang straight up and did three flips before landing on his feet and bouncing straight back up again.

  “Yeah, I can do that!” Brandon said. He leapt as high as he could, but managed only two summersaults and then landed off-balance—which caused him to shoot backwards and crash into the wall. The walls were not as springy as the floor, but they were soft enough, and he slid to the floor without hurting himself.

  That’s when he noticed a window was now open on the far wall. There were two heads in it that were watching him. One head was gray and one was a bright bronze color. They had small eyes, noses, mouths, and ears. Instead of hair, they just had some ruffled skin on top. Still, the heads were kind of human-looking, but covered in reptile-like skin.

  Something wasn’t right. Brandon had a bad feeling flash through. It was like a moment of panic over having forgotten an important event. He just…couldn’t…remember…what. But there was something bad going on, or that had happened to him recently, or maybe something pressing that he needed to take care of.

  Brandon placed his hand behind his ear and rubbed a sore spot, a fresh wound of some kind. That was odd. He couldn’t remember ever feeling pain or being cognizant of an injury in a dream before.

  The other guy in the room let out a Tarzan yell and leapt straight at the side wall, drawing Brandon’s attention. The man pushed himself off the wall with his feet, landed on his hands, then sprung himself upright with his arms held up in victory.