We watched,
fascinated by the inexorable progress of the center of the storm, the
oval red outline that was the seventh ship. Several of the
screens showed the views above the hangar, making the storm look
ominous, full of dark fury, heavy strokes of rain below towering,
boiling steam above, great flashes of lightning within the clouds as
well as to the ground, blue-white and angry. The seventh ship was
outlined in red, perhaps five hundred feet up, above the ‘floor’ or
whatever it is that makes the bottom of the clouds flat.
Another screen
showed the front of the hangar, and I was shocked to see Graham was
already down there at the switch, opening the doors. I hadn't
even seen him leave my side.
Just as the
front edge of the storms reached the hangar, sheets of rain splashing
from the surface, the fifth ship winked out, under the cover of the
funnel. There was a pale blue line connecting it to the front of
the ship which suddenly became much brighter and stretched as the
funnel extended out the front of the hangar. Then the blue line
as well as the funnel tilted up, the line getting longer, the end
connected to the smaller ship well outside the hangar. Suddenly, the
blue fire disappeared and the fifth ship became briefly visible, no
more than a half second, then it was just another hole in the clouds,
floating slowly up into the thunder head.
Before the fifth
ship was out of sight, the seventh appeared, directly over the hangar,
another hole in the rain. It drifted to the mouth of the funnel,
tilted, and was swallowed by the almost-invisible throat of the funnel,
the blue line quickly appearing.
It all took no
more than a minute or two, from the opening to closing of the hangar
doors. The seventh ship ‘clicked on,’ looking just like the
second ship, maybe a little larger in cross-section, definitely longer,
as there was not a foot to spare.
In five minutes,
we were back at it, first taking directly from the new arrival, then
from the ship, as units were transferred forward from the seventh ship
to ours, using a tube between the ships, just under the power
cable. The transfer saved us a few seconds on each trip.
The rain kept on for a couple of hours, always welcome in farm country
once the planting is done. Within reason, of course.
We worked
straight through until six o'clock, when Groth told us to refresh
ourselves in the optimizer, then go home for supper and a few hours
sleep, he would waken us a little early for chores and breakfast, and
we'd resume.
"Why not come
back after chores and supper?" I asked. Cory and Rob both
nodded they agreed,— at least with the question.
"There are only
two hundred and six units which will be ready tomorrow, and another
fifty-four on Sunday afternoon. The last three units will not be
ready until very late in the afternoon."
"Yeehaw!"
yelled Rob, and he picked Cory up like he weighed no more than a kid,
and spun him around. "Let's party!"
Cory didn't
object at all, just leaned down and collected his kiss, his hands on
Rob's shoulders.
Graham grabbed
me and pulled me to him, and we tried to swallow each other all over
again. Somehow, we managed to follow Rob and Cory to the stairs,
optimize, then go down to the pickups. Graham got the job of
locking up after us, and we honked our goodbye at them as they rounded
the corner, headed North on Katy.
We drove to
Graham's, did his chores, then to my place and did mine. Graham did the
milking while I got supper started,— a mess of oven-barbecue ribs
with chops. They came from a small pig I butchered in April,
after Gil's dumb sow decided nine was too many to nurse after six
weeks, and after I decided a few weeks later that slopping hogs,— or
even one hog was not what I was put here for.
We ate on the
screened porch, getting barbecue sauce all over our faces and hands,
not caring a whit. The sunset promised to be pretty spectacular,
so we washed up and sat on the swing, sipping more iced tea and holding
hands, talking softly of all sorts of things, mostly not very
interesting to others. How we saw our life together for the next
few days, but not what it would be like after the ships left. Not
yet.
At one point,
though, we speculated on what the Mission was:
"I figure
they're working on a big museum at the Core," I said.
"Why would there
be such a rush, though? It's not as if they can get back home in
a few days,— it would take several thousand years to get back."
"End of the
Human Race? Maybe the Sun is going to go nova?"
"No, he said we
had many tens of thousands of years, remember?"
"They have to
meet up with another survey team?" I grasped at straws.
"He said they
were on the way to another system, looking for a sentient race.
Diverted here along the way. Doesn't have room for more data than
what they have. Doesn't fit."
"I know what
would fit right now," I said, I put my hand on his Roger.
"Fits me,
too," Graham whispered as he pulled me to him. He smelled
of Graham, salt and vinegar, curry and sugar, musk and oil. I
felt my body start the process of love-making, my cock rising inside
its blue denim prison.
I don't remember
cleaning up after ourselves, or going upstairs, or getting undressed,
or clambering into bed. I remember only feeling him all over me,
his kisses driving me into a sweat of passion. I got a rush as
his cock slid into me, stealthily, almost painlessly, moved over my
prostate, sent shivers potent as earthquakes through me.
I remember his
every kiss as he stroked within me, his words of endearment, his hands
caressing me, loving me. I remember the suddenness of my climax,
just as he opened his mouth and shouted his release of his seed into
me, shouting his love for me, filling me with pride as well as his
semen. I can't remember if either of us was touching my cock or
not. Probably not,— it would’ve sent me to the moon far too
quickly.
He licked me
clean, even taking my cock in his mouth and sucking out the last
vestiges of my semen. We made love for a while longer as the
black butterflies of sleep flew around us, eventually shifting around
so Graham was behind me, holding me in his arms lightly, Roger still
deep inside me. I can't imagine a nicer way to go to sleep than
in the arms of the man you love, connected like that.
I woke while it
was still dark, not even a glimmer of the dawn, so it must not yet have
been four o'clock or maybe just a little past. We became
separated in the night, and I turned around and moved into the
crook of his arm, my head on his shoulder. I found out that his
farts are light, almost,— well, actually,— this sounds really weird,
but it's true,— pleasant under the covers. I couldn't see him,
not really, but I could make out his profile, the long forehead, the
strong and straight nose, the thick but trim eyebrows. All I
could think was how lucky I was to have found him. Some people go
their whole life without meeting the one,— that one special
person. I said a quick prayer asking forgiveness for my pride,
then another for my gratefulness, then dozed a little.
"It is almost
time," Groth said in a soft voice.
I didn't even
have a chance to open my eyes before Graham kissed my forehead softly.
"I love you,
B.B.," he whispered through his kiss.
I kept my eyes
shut tight, just feeling him, all around me, his smell, his blood
thumping under my ear.
"Love you, too,
Graham."
"Ready to get
started?"
I just latched
on to Roger with my left hand and squeezed, murmuring a little.
My head tilted up to meet his lips with mine, and our tongues sought
each other, quickly banishing night-breath staleness. Before he
was completely hard, I swung over him and wedged Roger's head into me,
just in case he didn't quite know exactly what my mood was. It
hurt a little, because I pushed too quickly, but no matter.
"I am
now," I said into his mouth,
"Me, too."
Before the
rooster crowed, before the dawn broke, after we rolled so I was on my
back, I felt him pumping his semen into me, shouting his lust before he
aimed my cock into his mouth, sucked out my seed, as I screamed the
love I felt for him, our circle complete. My legs trapped around
his waist, holding him as deep as his cock would go, but he still had
the flexibility to take almost half my cock in his mouth. My
hands felt his balls, his pulsing root as it fired into me. His
hands milked me, tickled me, played with my nuts. He kept taking
more and more of me, sucking the straw of my cock right through to my
prostate, emptying it to make space for more.
When I was truly
empty, I reared up and met Graham's kiss, sitting on his haunches, our
arms so tightly wrapped around one another, we must have disappeared
into a mass of shoulders, elbows and hands. We whispered to each
other wrapped up like that for the better part of ten minutes, when
Groth imitated a clearing throat and said it was time to start the
chores if we wanted to get to breakfast on time.
We quickly
pulled apart, smiling as everyone does with their mate after a
particularly good love-making, and quickly showered, shaved, and did
the chores at my place. Except I didn't sit on the toilet,— it
would take a while to first absorb Graham's semen. I made some
coffee while Graham cleaned up the milking teats, and handed him ‘his’
thermos mug as he came in with a few eggs to take to mom after we
candled them at his place. We got in a clock-stopper, then piled
into the Ram and headed down the drive.
There was a
black sedan slowly passing the drive on Gove Road, headed towards Katy.
"Spooks!"
I spat.
Graham grabbed
my arm and shook his head. I stopped at the bottom of the drive,
and he gestured first to me, then him, then to his mouth, pretending to
speak, then pointed at the sedan and pantomimed listening, his hand
behind his ear. They were listening to us. I got the
message.
"I hate black
cars," I said with a grin, "just like black cats."
"You hate any
vehicle what ain't a pickup,— ya’ redneck."
"Piss off, you
old fart," I laughed, getting into the game, "I ain't the one
what got so drunk he couldn't a’ drove a nail if Marilyn Monroe opened
up to his little weenie!"
Graham grinned
at me. "Nah. You're the one what got so drunk you peed all
over your boots instead of over the bannister!"
"That was some
good 'shine, warn't it?" I really laid on the accent, as I pulled
out of the drive. The sedan was about half-way to Graham's drive.
"You hide the
jug?"
"No need,"
I said, "We done emptied it stone dry."
"Thought my
mouth was a little dry to morning."
"I ain't all
together yet, neither."
"Want a nip at
the house afore we go to breakfast? Hair a' the dog?"
"Nah," I
said "Makes my stomach roll, jus' thinkin' on it." That was
the first true thing I said since we saw the car.
"I gotta’ feed
them birds, get the eggs candled. Guess that'll be just enough
for a nip or two."
"Old
drunk," I said, squeezing Roger, "You’re gonna’ kill
yore’self one a these days."
"Hell, it's
Saturday, I got me right to party some."
We bantered like
that all the way through the chores, larding up the accents to
ridiculous levels, still managing to get in a kiss or two. It was
almost exciting to steal kisses from under their noses. The hens
must have eaten all their vitamins,— there were more than two dozen
eggs, and a clutch of eggs hatched, so peepers were running all over
the hen house.
Graham made a
sound like a fart when we got back in the Ram, which was enough to keep
a raunchy nasty farm-yokel conversation going all the way to
mom's. I got tired of the game pretty quick, mind you. I
hate the way T.V. shows and movies always show farmers as being
ignorant yokels.
When we got to
Charlene's, the crowd was a little thin, it being Saturday and
all. Some of the guys didn't start as early on Saturdays,— Pete
and Dan, for instance. I got a hug and kiss from mom, then Graham
got one, too. We all had a little laugh about all the anonymous
black cars running all over town. Graham even joked it all
started since he opened up his garage,— maybe the FBI was thinking
about having him service their tractors. Mom went back to the
grill, after we just shrugged our order for the usual.
"I figure they's
looking to bust somebody for growing ‘Mary Poppins,’" Frank said
laughing at something Dan said when he came in, about black sedans
invading town. "They ought a’ go look to the Collins place over to
Totteville. I hear he's got a field a poppies redder'n my neck!"
We all
laughed. Old man Collins had tried growing poppy seed one year,
and cussed every one of them for the next ten, because they're nought
but weeds, and tenacious as hell when you change crops.
"You figure
they're trying to put Pete out of business?" Mom asked from
the grill.
"Hey,
Mom!" I called to her, "No flaps today!"
"And what's
wrong with my flaps all of a sudden?"
"Nothing!
Can I have french toast instead?"
"Got 'em,"
she said.
Graham and I
finally sat in the booth, carrying mugs of coffee. I suddenly
noticed I was missing another tooth. No,— three more! I was
gap-toothed all the way between my eyeteeth. I wondered where the
old teeth went. I got Graham's attention and pointed to my gap.
"Yep," he
said with a grin. "Noticed this morning. New ones already
poking out."
I felt around
with my tongue, and he was right. They were already budded
through. All my other teeth felt loose. The bottom teeth
wiggled around pretty bad. I wondered if it was safe to eat.
"None will fall
out until after you eat this morning. Eat well,— they will all be
gone by tonight."
I jumped when he
spoke, half afraid he'd spoke out loud.
"Graham, you
were right about them listening. They are using directional
microphones to pick up sounds, running them through small, slow
computers to filter out noise."
Graham didn't
say anything, but got a questioning look on his face.
"Yes, you will
be able to speak freely anywhere within the hangar, including the
shop. I will synthesize a conversation among the four of you and
broadcast it as if it came from the shop while you are working."
Andy came from
the back. I figure he came out the back door of our house.
He probably stayed with mom last night. He didn't pause but to
say ‘howdy’ to the guys,— he just came and sat next to me,
bringing his mug of coffee.
"Mornin'
Graham," he said quietly, but not out of the normal. "See
anything strange goin' on the last day or so?" He lifted his cup with
his left hand, with just the fingers in the handle, his thumb sticking
out and away, right at me.
I looked over my
left shoulder almost automatically, following the direction of the
thumb. There was a black sedan right on the corner, next to
Pete's. Two suits were inside. Talk about incognito!
They at least took off their jackets, but the ties were still
there. Geez!
Graham winked at
me and said, "Nope, not a thing, Andy. Except maybe all
these damn blackfly. Early this year. Gotta’ spray now
instead of June."
I gulped down a
belly laugh. Andy had a blank look on his face, but his neck
turned red, with the effort not to bust his gut.
"I'm glad you
showed me the inside of the hangar, though," Andy managed to get
out.
He pointed at
his ear with his right hand then at the car. Graham nodded back.
"I was afraid
maybe you had some things besides all that junk in there," Andy
continued. "Whatcha’ going to do with that old crop duster?"
"Don't need the
hangar for nought," Graham said, "The machine shop is big
enough for me and as many as ten bays. Don't figure I'll ever get
that big. The duster is just a shell. All the wiring and
stuff has been tore out."
We talked a
little about the storms of the past couple of days, how they was a
little early this year, but not as bad as year before last, how, at
least, none of the tornados touched ground.
Mom came with
our platters, and Andy stayed with us, just talking. I got the
impression he was off work for the day. Then he took a pen out of
his pocket and wrote on a napkin he took out of the holder.
"You in
trouble?" he wrote, while Graham was rambling on about 'how he
was gonna hafta’ find him another good mechanic.' Graham kept on
rambling, but shook his head 'no' while he started writing on his
own, "I should worry?"
Andy shrugged
his shoulders and wrote, 'FAA coming tomorrow.'
Graham managed
to prolong the monologue somehow, almost intelligently, and shrugged.
"Well, nice
talking to you guys," Andy said, cutting Graham a little
short. "Gotta’ get my breakfast." He got up and went to his
usual stool, just as mom got his plate there.
"Guess we ought
a’ mosey," Graham drawled shamelessly. He would have looked
right at home on Mr. Ed's farm.
We got up, I
left money on the dish, and we swaggered out the door. I felt
like a dumb shit, rolling all around like that, but it had to be done
'for the good of the mission,' so I put my all into looking like a hick.
"I appreciate
the sacrifice," Groth said dryly.
"Y'all's
weyalcum," I thought in parody.
I swear, I heard
him chuckle.
We piled into
the Ram and talked bullshit all the way to the hangar. The sedan
by Pete's didn't budge, but there was another black sedan (except it
was light green) parked in front of the old feed store just North of
the hangar drive. I paid no attention to it, but pointed it out to
Graham under the dash, and he nodded he'd seen it. The gate was
open, as always. The door to the shop was open as well, and I
could make out the shadow of Rob's old F-250.
Rob closed the
door the instant the rear bumper of the Ram was clear, and Cory opened
the doors to the hangar.
"Just got
here!" called Rob after us.
Before we all
went in, Graham told them about how the Feds had microphones that could
pick up our conversations while we were outside the hangar. Even
in the trucks or in our own bedrooms.
"That is not the
case if you will allow me to install a personal cloak," Groth
said, appearing next to us. "The cloak is undetectable,
completely invisible, and auto-dissolves if there is any attempt made
to remove it."
"I thought,—
" I started to ask,
"Your cloaks
were strictly visual. I will upgrade them to audio-visual
wavelengths while you are in the optimizer. The life span of the cloak
is thus reduced to fourteen years."
"Sure!"
said Cory and Rob, almost at the same time.
"There is an
added risk of discovery, however. The cloaks will generate
additional heat. It will be detectable as a heat aura around you,
approximately one degree centigrade above normal."
"What is the
probability of detection?" Graham asked.
"In current
circumstances, approximately one in twenty-three point two seven."
"And without the
upgrade?"
"Virtual
certainty. You talk in your sleep occasionally. Rob gives a
nightly dissertation of the day's events, his subconscious reactions."
"Let's do
it," I said. We could worry about the longevity of the
batteries, or whatever they were, later.
"The cloaks for
Rob and Cory will reveal Graham and Bill as if they were not wearing a
cloak," Groth said aloud. "It is important to understand
there have been substantial changes in their physical appearance."
"Bill told
me," Cory said. "Graham is a lot younger than he looks."
I said
that? Never!
"Cory is not of
the same intellectual conceptualization as most. He ‘reads’
people more than listens to them. When you were telling him Graham was
not as old as he appeared, you emitted pheromones which indicated
sexual desire, your eyes contracted in the pupil, your heart rate
increased, your body temperature rose almost half a degree. This
is immediately indicative of love and sexual desire/attraction almost
never associated with an individual not of youthful reproductive age."
"Cory can tell
all those things?"
"Not
consciously, but they register with him,— create impressions."
We went up the
stairs to the optimizer. One of the benches,— the one I usually
used,— had a red cloth on it.
"Bill, put the
cloth in your mouth when you lay on the optimizer."
"My teeth?"
"They will all
be released this session, except the bottom front teeth, which will be
released tonight."
"What's with
your teeth?" asked Rob.
"They're being
replaced," I said, "I didn't do a good enough job of
brushing them when I was a kid."
"Yours will be
replaced, as well." said Groth, "It is the least I can do
to show our appreciation for your help."
"I don't want
false teeth!" Cory said, stepping back from the platform.
"They will not
be false. You are growing a new set of teeth. They are not
subject to decay."
"Sounds more'n
fair," said Rob, "Lay down, Cory."
Cory obeyed his
mate. I think he'd jump into a vat of flaming oil if Rob told him
to.
"No,— his sense
of self preservation is very strong."
"Groth, I was
using that as an hyperbole. I mean Cory will do as Rob asks most
of the time, because he trusts him totally."
"I see."
We woke an
instant later, ready for a full day of labor, and there were no
interruptions, no problems. My teeth were in the cloth.
They looked ugly, the silver fillings more black than silver, the
surfaces more yellow than white. My tongue found the edges of
teeth all across the top, but only barely poking from the gum.
Nothing at all on the bottom. I was surprised there was no blood.
Cory and Rob
stared at the real Graham a little at first, but once the novelty was
over, it seemed to be forgotten. We broke for dinner as usual, except
Cory and I made the run to mom's. We just shot the shit on the
way there, loaded up the food, and headed back.
"He's real
handsome, ain't he?" Cory said out of the blue, "I never
would a’ knowed."
"He's a lot more
beautiful inside than he is outside," I said, "I'm very
lucky."
"Me, too,"
said Cory, "Rob can look a little scary to people what don't know
him, but he's the most loving man you could imagine. He's just
scared of being alone."
We talked a
little about our men, nothing too deep, just the good points. I
felt all fuzzy and warm by the time we got to the shop. Nice
people like Cory do that to me.
I had a little
trouble eating my fill. I couldn't chew for shit, so I was glad
of the meat loaf and mashed potatoes, which I could at least gum a
little. After dinner, we worked straight through to almost six,
when there were no more units coming down the stairs.
"You have caught
up completely with production," said Graham, "There are
seven hundred eighty-five units installed, including the hundred
seventy-six done today. Of the remaining fifty-seven, all but three
will be ready for installation by mid-day tomorrow. The remaining
three will be ready at four o'clock. If you begin after dinner,
the ship will be functional again any time after seven P.M."
"Then
what?" Graham asked.
"I will give you
the results of the calculations."
"When will we,—?
" Rob started to ask.
"When the ship
leaves the hangar, I will take you to a point several hundred thousand
miles from Earth, and show you the beauty of your home world and its
moon,— so rare in the known galaxy."
"And bring us
back?" Cory asked, but quietly.
"And bring you
back, of course,— "
"When are you
leaving?" I asked. We were all on the stairway to the
optimizer.
"The departure
will take place as soon as the ships have completed their gathering,
which is expected for Wednesday. We will assemble into the
necessary formation on the other side of your moon and depart no more
than two hours later, but no later than six pm GMT, Thursday."
"GMT?" Rob
didn't know.
"Greenwich Mean
Time. Eleven A.M. Kansas time. Bill,— please use the red
cloth again."
"Will you,— will
anybody ever come back to visit us?" Cory said.
"There is no one
who can come visit." Groth said, "The mission will either
succeed or it will not."
"No one?"
asked Graham.
"All will be
explained when the calculations have been completed. There is no
point in telling only half the story."
We lay down on
the slabs, after Groth said he would only be doing minor musculature
and structural repairs. When I woke, the red cloth contained the last
of my teeth; still, no blood.
As we got up to
go down the stairway, I had a nagging thought.
"Groth, you said
something that's got me intrigued. What did you mean, when you
said the Earth and moon are so rare?"
"I will show you
on a projection."
"When?"
"Now. When
you get to the bottom, lay on the floor with your feet towards the
front doors, about thirty meters from the end of the ship. The
screens in the ship are not adequate to portray events."
When we went to
the front of the ship, the space Groth indicated was outlined by lasers
from the front of the ship. The concrete wasn't cold, but comfortably
warm, felt resilient, like a firm mattress. The seventh ship was
cloaked. The lights in the hangar went out, and the details of
the hangar seemed to fade out, the light from the outside seeming to go
through evening, then sunset, then black as the midnight of a new moon,
the ships no longer there. We were in total blackness, then
somehow the floor fell away from me. I was floating, but I could
move freely. I took Graham's hand in mine, and we moved towards
each other.
Gradually, a
giant pin-wheel took shape in front of us, made up of thousands of
millions of tiny points of light, that in some places,— especially in
the very center,— merged into a single mass of impossibly bright
light. Groth told us we would now look inside the image, be
surrounded by it. The image expanded, so I had the impression of
falling into the image, until it was around us, and one small sub-arm
of the pinwheel was in front of us. There were too many pinpoints to
count. I knew this was supposed to represent the galaxy, and we
were now looking at a small part of it, about two thirds of the
distance from the center to the edge.
Groth began a
soft narrative, explaining what we were observing. In the midst
of a small branch of stars, a faint cloud of gas contracted in on
itself, spiraling towards its center, which started to glow
weakly. The gas was heating up from the pressure of
contracting. Then we saw the beginning, as surely it must have
looked. A massive bright point of explosion, in the center of the
cloud, a shell rapidly expanding, a nebulae of hot light gasses,
roiling like summer thunder heads, expanding at the outer edges,
rotating rapidly, less so as the sphere grew larger, flattened.
The expansion slowed, then seemed to stop, begin to contract.
The
magnification continued, and the opaque gasses coagulated in rings
around a single yellowish white star, in the center of the rings of gas
and dust. The rings coalesced into clumps, then great balls of
matter, which almost suddenly collapsed upon themselves into planets.
Still in constant magnification, we saw three gas giant planets pass by
us, which Groth named as Uranus, Saturn and Jupiter,— the largest and
closest to the star. None had rings, at least none I could see,
but there was a cloud of gas around each. Then came a smaller
rocky world, brown and red, and the speed of magnification slowed down.
From the right another rocky gray planet appeared, much smaller,
perhaps one third the size of the brown planet. Gray planet quickly
approached, then smashed into, the first planet, and both exploded into
hundreds, thousands of white-hot fragments, which quickly cooled to
muddy brown-gray.
A huge fragment,
probably a quarter of the size of the brown planet, then was
spotlighted as it hurtled inwards towards the central star, past a
small planet with the blue and white of water, but no moon (Mars) and
into another planet, much larger, shrouded in white. This latest
victim, instead of exploding, instantly turned into a molten mass of
white-hot matter, spinning incredibly rapidly, chunks of white-hot rock
blasted away. The clouds had totally evaporated, and you could
see the surface of molten rock. The planet wasn't a sphere, but a
pulsing, spinning and wobbling red-white mass, quickly separating into
a short barbell-like amoeba, two distinct globes forming, stretching
then separating from one another, the smaller whizzing round the larger
at rapid speed, what seemed like a few minutes per revolution. The
color went from orange red to dull gray-maroon as the pieces cooled.
The larger body
was at first without clouds, but there was the shimmer of gasses,
especially at the poles. Gasses that had been around the smaller
body or moon pulled away from it, back to the Earth, spiraling down
like a drain spout, visible only in the space between the two bodies,
where they cooled enough to coalesce into cloud, until close to the
Earth's semi-molten surface. There was a noticeable bulge on the
planet, which rotated at almost, but not quite, the same speed as the
Moon, then gradually became indiscernible. The Moon was bare,
gray and featureless. Pieces of rock crashed into both, the crust
revealed as a thin skin, great splashes of molten rock marking the
strikes.
The Moon
gradually slowed in its speed of revolving, but as it did it seemed to
draw away from the Earth, a cold, gray world pockmarked as it is today,
only very occasional and very large strikes producing any molten lava
flows. The visible Earth was nothing but cloud and mist. The
whole system, all the planets passed through clouds of ice balls,
comets, debris and flotsam of every description, the impacts leaving
huge craters on some, swallowed up in the gas of others. The
Earth became and remained swathed in white, but here and there it
coagulated, and after a time I could see the blue of a sea.
The motion
stopped. Earth wasn't like it is now, but there was the blue of
water, the brown of land; some green, already.
"The probability
of this sequence of events taking place in the galaxy is approximately
one in nine hundred fifty-three million. The probability this is
actually the sequence of events which took place is seven in
twenty-three."
"It's
beautiful," said Cory. He was crying, and I felt the wet of
tears on my face, too. It was scarifyingly, mesmerizingly, and
overwhelmingly beautiful.
The image faded,
and we were again sitting,— laying,— on the hangar floor.
"Groth, how many
stars are there in the galaxy?" Graham asked softly.
"There are now
two point seventy-three billion functioning stars. Ranging from
very small gray dwarfs to blue-white giants."
"Does that mean
there are only three systems like ours? The earth and a large moon?"
"No. There
are,— there were,— have been,— several hundred such known
systems. This is the only known system this distant from the
core. Most of the others were destroyed when their stars went
nova or were absorbed into a black hole at the center of the galaxy."
"Why so many, if
the probability is so small?"
"Probability is
higher, the closer the star is to the core, where there is
proportionately more of the heavy elements needed to form planetary
systems."
"Is this type of
system a prerequisite for life?"
"Not for life as
such, but no evidence has ever been found of complex life where there
is not a combination of a single main sequence star, a rocky planet of
a size large enough and warm enough to retain the lighter elements, but
not so large that they become liquids rather than gasses, and water in
abundance, in liquid form, with tides created by a large moon, which
gives rise to a division of earth and water."
"Wow!"
said Rob.
"How many
planets have intelligent life, then?" Graham pursued.
"There are
ninety-one systems in the galaxy known to have produced sentient races."
"That's all?"
"Yes. It
is time for you to leave. I will answer more questions for you
when the calculations are complete, but not now, it is too soon."
End of
session. I had about a million questions, give or take three, but
Groth answered not one of them I posed after that. The other end
of the line was dead every time I asked.
We just looked
at each other for a minute, then someone said something about having to
get the chores done, and we moved, a little woodenly, to the
trucks. It was only six-thirty. We watched the Creation in
less than a half hour. Groth obviously speeded things
up. I felt like three or four hours passed.
"You are
correct. Time is subjective to sentient beings. By suppressing
all extraneous sensations, learning activities can be compressed by
significant factors. The presentation speed was limited only by
the lowest average mental concentrative ability."
"Rob?"
"No,— Graham's
and yours. You have significantly enhanced sensory abilities, and
are thus more easily distracted by internally generated thoughts.
It will take some considerable effort to learn to concentrate more
completely on any single topic so as to increase efficient use of time."
We left the
hangar for our respective homes, Graham locking up as we went, since
we'd taken the Ram. Graham said nothing until we were on Katy,
headed down to town, as he wanted me to meet Elva, his sister.
They live on the South Road, and you have to take Katy to get to it.
"You thinking
what I'm thinking?" he said softly.
"The mission has
something to do with a rescue effort," I said, "We're guinea
pigs."
"Monkeys, I
think."
"An experiment?"
"More
important. Even for them, this must be a major undertaking.
We're a long way from their home."
"We'll have to
wait. Think there's any danger?"
"Not from
them," he mused, "I think maybe from our own kind."
He pointed at a
rental car, his hand under the window level so they couldn't see.
"Are you sure we
can talk all right?" I asked Groth.
"Your personal
cloaks do not allow sound to carry more than five feet from your
body," Groth answered. "The vehicle you see does not have
the sophisticated listening devices contained in several others."
"Are they
tracking us?"
"They are
focusing on the man Gary Boyce, and on you, Graham."
"Why?"
"He owns the
land where we first landed. You are known to have seen something
on the day we met."
"The Ahmandsen
place?" Graham asked, "Gary owns it? I never heard
anything about him buying it."
"It was left to
his wife in the will of the previous owner."
"I never knew my
Aunt Diane was related to the Ahmandsens," I said, "Diane
is my mom's sister."
"Her first
husband would have been Drew Ahmandsen," Graham said, "He was
killed in Vietnam a few weeks before he was coming home, a month before
they were to be married."
"We have kinda a
small world, haven't we?" I said, thinking on how big was the
galaxy we'd just seen in comparison to our little town.
"Yep.
Groth, why are they interested in the land?"
"They have found
the depression made by the ship, when it rested on the soil without the
benefit of more than half power of the Plastri, and concluded it to be
of recent origin, after analyzing prior photographic data. There
is a team of scientific people coming to evaluate it. They will
arrive tomorrow morning."
The Plastri is
the gravity drive of the ship, I recalled from somewhere.
"So?"
"They know we
have been here, they suspect we have been back, that we are being
hidden somewhere near Katy."
"Have they
searched the hangar?"
"They are
considering it, although the Highway Patrolman's testimony that he saw
the empty hangar has been an impediment. A warrant has been
requested to search it as a contingency, but not approved by a judge,
as there is no evidence of any laws having been broken. An effort
to fabricate evidence of drugs being processed in the Katy area is to
be made tomorrow. It will succeed. A warrant will be issued
as a cover immediately thereafter."
"How do you . .
.?"
"I have access
to all telephone conversations. There is no written evidence
allowed by the case manager."
"That's
illegal!" I said, irrationally.
"It is common
practice."
"Will we have
time?" Graham asked aloud.
"We have no
choice," said Groth, "The mission must not fail."
"What's going to
happen?"
"We will be
discovered. It will be too late."
"I suppose I
should be relieved at that," said Graham, "but I suspect there
will be hell to pay."
"You are
concerned that Katy,— rather,— the community will be injured?"
"Yes, but you
can see that in my thoughts."
"I am not able
to read a significant number of your private thoughts. Normally,
I would not try, as the privacy of the individual is protected by our
laws, and to know private thoughts is seldom beneficial in advanced
societies. Yours is not an advanced culture, yet you have
developed a barrier to thought communication as strong as,— no,—
stronger than any recorded experience. Further, this has been developed
in a period of days, not generations, as your thoughts were totally
transparent at our first meeting. How have you learned to keep
your innermost thoughts and desires so discrete?"
"I have no
idea," I said, but I did. I kept my private thoughts in a
little strongbox now, knowing if I didn't Groth would know them.
I thought about it out loud. I don't know how else to say it.
"I see,"
Groth said in an almost whisper, "It pleases me that you have
made such progress. I trust you not to hide from me anything that
might jeopardize my mission."
"I would never
do that," I said. I opened my little lockbox.
"I do not want
to know," Groth said, and closed it. Inside my head. I
could feel it. "I said I trust you."
We drove through
town, seeing another spook wagon parked conspicuously near Charlie's
garage, just down a piece from Pete's pump. Nobody was around, as
it was suppertime.
"This car has
the surveillance equipment," said Groth, "You are being closely
monitored. Do not speak within visual range. They will
monitor sound within the car, if you are seen to be talking, but they
hear no voices on their equipment, it will raise an alarm."
We went silently
past the two spooks. One woman, one man, looking at a map as if
they were lost or something. Fake as a ten dollar silver certificate.
The evening was
quiet, peaceful. We stopped and visited Elva and Jerry, and Elva
wouldn't let us leave without full bellies. She's as sweet as can
be, cooks up a storm, and is devoted to Jerry. He's good company,
even though you can tell he's sick. You can tell she adores
Graham, as well. Told me good tales about him when he and Jerry
were looking at the furnace in the basement.
My bottom teeth
were gone, and I couldn't eat too good, but I got down small chunks
okay after pretending to chew. It was chicken and dumplings,
slightly overcooked vegetables is the custom around here, lots of herbs
and spices. We left early, as Jerry was getting tired. Elva
was especially nice to me. At one point somewhere during supper,
she said she was glad Graham finally found a mate to pal around
with. She had no idea, or then again,— maybe she did.
We got to my
place a little while before dark, and the cows were in a bad way. (They
hurt something awful if they don't get milked properly, on time.) While
I tended to them and did my chores, Graham took the pickup to his place
to feed the chickens and cat, get a change of clothes for the morrow,
and his Bible for church. He was back before I was done, and I
got a quick peck before we finished up the sterilizer loading and
mucking.
It was dark by
the time we sat on the porch, each with a sipping glass of bourbon,
just listening to the crickets and owls, a distant train whistle.
Once in a while, you got a whiff of the interstate noise, a bare
whisper. There were no jets overhead. Usually, there's a
few every hour, but they'd moved the traffic far enough that we had
blessed silence.
"What do you
suppose will happen, after?" I said to Graham, as I leaned into
him, my head on his shoulder.
"Things will go
on, like normal," Graham said softly. "We'll work the farms, make
love, do some traveling together."
"What happens
when the cloaks go dry?"
"We'll have to
move, I guess," Graham said. "No way folk would be able to
understand we didn't get older. That I got younger all of a
sudden."
"We're going to
lose this, aren't we?"
"What?"
"The peace of
the farm, the people we love."
"Ayuh."
"Graham, I'm not
sure if,— "
"You can handle
it?"
"No, I mean, I'm
not sure I think it's a bad thing,— going away from here."
"What do you
mean?"
I thought it
through as best I could. I love farming, growing, farm folk, my
parents and brothers and sisters,— even if I didn't spend half my
life,— for that matter, any of it lately,— with them any more, but I
wanted to see more, see the world, new places, new sensations,
new people. However, I didn't want to do it alone. I wanted to do
it with Graham. I needed to know he wanted that, too. I
needed to know he wanted me with him. I thought maybe he did, but
I didn't know. I wasn't sure.
"I mean, it
would be exciting to see more,— maybe experience different places."
"I'd like that,—
long as we can share it together."
"Graham, do you
think,— we'll,— I mean, I want to be with you."
"We're gonna’ be
together a long time, Bill," he said to me, setting my spirits
alight.
"Til death do us
part?" I asked without hesitation.
"Longer, my
love," he said to me, "I want you to be by my side forever."
We left our
clothes in a pile on the porch when we went up to bed.
He took me,
forcefully, lovingly, patiently, his semen sealing his vow deep in my
intestines as I wailed my climax into his mouth. After an hour or
so of dozing, whispering, caressing, I took him in turn, and we slept
the night joined together,— me behind him,— holding him to me in a
spoon.
When his rooster
crowed, I slipped out of him, and he turned onto his back. I was
in the crook of his shoulder, his arm wrapped around me, and my hand
was on Roger. I think I woke just a second after he did, because
he got the first words in. I murmured into his shoulder I loved
him, and hated Chester. (Never did get around to having that
rooster for Sunday dinner.) He kissed me on the forehead, just as
Groth told us it was time to get moving if we wanted to get to church
before we got started.
It was the last
time we slept a full night in my bed.