Test of Magnitude (The Torian Reclamation) (6 page)

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 failed 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.

Brandon looked back across the room, but the window he saw a moment ago was gone. Whatever. Brandon suddenly wanted to do the side-wall spring trick the other guy just did. He ran and jumped up at the wall, care-free and happy again.

* * *

“We are fortunate,” Professor Yob3 said. “Both subjects have fully resuscitated and are without physical injury. Their breathing is unlabored, which makes me suspect our worlds have a higher oxygen content than theirs.”

“Are their implants working?” Mip7 asked. He was alone in the hallway with the professor. Arkan9 had left to meet with the Amulen Chancellor yesterday and was due back later today. It had already been a week since their initial meeting with the scientists, during which Mip7 learned more about cryonic preservation than he ever cared to know. He had come to like Professor Yob3, however, whose interest in the resuscitation project had grown considerably. He seemed almost downright enthusiastic about it now. Director Markin1 had only stopped by occasionally to ask a few questions here and there, and seemed more concerned about his authority being usurped than the physical condition of the Earthlings.

The first and the last subjects to be abducted had been identified and found within the vast cryonic chamber network maintained at RL-71. The Earthling section occupied nearly a third of one of the large octagon-shaped buildings. Special apparatus was built which allowed the two subject’s individual chambers to be removed from the network without disturbing their personal environment. They were moved to a dedicated room, and then a slow process of altering the chamber environment, little by little, was engineered by two of Yob3’s assistants. That process began two days ago. Yesterday, the chamber atmospheres finally reached equilibrium with the outside air, so the cryonic tanks were opened and the subjects, now fully “thawed,” were bathed and put on normal life support tubes for rehydration. They were kept asleep by anesthetics while Torian transmitter implants were surgically installed along the Earthling’s auditory nerves. They were then taken off anesthesia and life support, removed from their chambers, and allowed to revive naturally inside a “soft room,” where they were now. The subjects began to wake and stir several hours ago.

“Yes, the implants are transmitting accurately,” Yob3 replied. He pushed a button on a panel in front of him and some wave patterns in different colors scrolled across a screen. “These signals are good. As to whether or not the implants will correctly translate audio into their native language, it’s my guess they will initially be about 90% accurate, and will then need a little fine-tuning after communications begin. We should start to get a feel for that in the next phase.”

 “The orientation videos?” Mip7 asked.

“We need to get them eating, drinking, and using the hygiene rooms first,” Yob3 said. “They will probably remain in this abstract state for a while longer, thinking they are dreaming still. When they start to come out of it, we will provide food and drink, which should help bring them into sharper mental focus.”

“Maybe a tube of Redflower-20 would help,” Mip7 said.

“No, alcohol would prolong their chimerical condition. A stimulant would be more appropriate, but I’m hoping a dose of pure water will suffice.” Yob3 hit another button on his panel and a different image appeared on the screen, one of many small dots pulsating and forming a solid field at the bottom.

“We need to start adjusting the gravity field in the room now. Their bones are healthy and their muscles seem to be functioning properly, so let’s start getting them anchored to the floor.” He adjusted several knobs on the panel.

* * *

Brandon noticed his jumps were becoming shorter, and he was starting to get tired. The other guy in the room was apparently having the same problem, as he fell flat on his back this time when he tried to launch himself up on the side wall for the hand-spring trick.

“Bummer, man! It’s like …someone turned on the gravity or something.” He looked up at Brandon. “What’s the secret to flying?”

Brandon shook his head. “I wish I knew. There’s something not right happening here, though. I’m getting a bad feeling again.”

“Don’t be a drag, brother. If you don’t like my dream, you can cut out. Just turn the gravity off for me again when you split, all right?”

Brandon studied the man on the floor for a moment. He reminded him of his stupid hippie-throwback brother-in-law, Derek. This guy wasn’t an exact match for Derek, but usually one person changed into another in Brandon’s dreams, or sometimes their face would change while still representing the same person. So, he decided to just label him as Derek.

“Your sister is a whore,” Brandon said. He wasn’t sure what made him say that. Probably, it was just something he had wanted to say for a while.

Derek laughed. “My sister’s a square, man. A total virgin. She’s going to marry a square someday. Mr. Establishment, no doubt. Then she’ll get to be Mrs. Establishment, and raise little panty waist kids who will grow up in the establishment and then go to Vietnam, or some other war, and kill other dudes and then get killed themselves. I’ll probably have to be a pallbearer at their funerals.”

Brandon’s uneasiness was replaced by sudden surge of repulsion. “Well, someone’s got to fight to protect our country,” he said,  “so guys like you can lay around all day, get high, and look at shapes in the clouds.”

“Oh man, I thought you were cool. Why am I locked in this white room with a dude whose karma is dragging down the gravity?  Maybe I need to wake up before this goes nightmare on me.”

“That’s a good idea, Derek. Here, let me pinch you so you can wake up.” Brandon stepped towards him, bent down, and reached out his arm. Before he could touch him, however, Derek rolled over and sprang to his feet. Brandon chased him to the other side of the room—where a doorway was now open.

Both of them stopped in their tracks. The running had been more arduous than before, and Brandon’s steps had lost their springing effect. Maybe bad karma was dragging this dream down after all. Brandon always wanted to punch Derek, though, and hoped it wouldn’t end before he got the chance.