The IX (11 page)

“Whoa, young man!” a friendly voice cried. Strong hands gripped his arm, pulling him away from danger. “I just made that. Pity to waste it, eh?”

Eh? I’m holding a cup of coffee. Where the hell did that come from?
Lex jumped up and only just saved the scalding liquid from spilling down his pants.

“Thank you. That would have hurt a —” The words choked off in his throat. His jaw dropped open. The mug clunked to the floor.

“Here, let me get you another one,” his companion offered. “It’s a cold night, and I think you’ll be needing something to warm you up after the shock.”

Lex couldn’t help but stare at the person next to him. Although he was dressed like a cavalry general, he obviously wasn’t. Some of the minor details in the insignia and cut of the uniform he was wearing were off. Additionally, he was just too darn tall.

Ignoring him, the officer retrieved Lex’s cup and busied himself pouring some more coffee. Then he stood up.
Jesus!
He’s towering over me, and
I’m six feet tall. So what does that make him?
Lex looked closer.
And look at his eyes. No one I’ve ever seen has eyes that color. Come to that, his face is . . . is. . . ?

“What’s up, son?” The mystery soldier grinned and slapped Lex heartily on the arm. “Cat got your tongue? Never seen a stranger like me before?”

“Er, I apologize . . . Sir? But you’re not from around these parts, are you?”

Lex turned to study the sky. He recognized many of the familiar constellations, and the half moon cast sufficient light for him to distinguish the open plains about them.
But exactly
where
these parts are, I couldn’t tell you. Something about them is . . . I don’t know. Strange?

“My name is Beren. Sol Beren,” replied the imposing figure in front of him, “and in answer to your question, Lex . . . Yes, I am a
Sir
. By your references, a general. Although not one you’d find in any of your armies.”

“So who do you serve, General? And how did we wind up in this place?”

“Ah, the answer to that is quite complex. But it’s why I’m here.” Extending a huge hand back toward two logs positioned side by side, Beren said, “Come. Let’s sit down and talk. I know you’ll have a huge list of questions, and my associates and I will be happy to answer them in a way that will help you come to terms with what’s happening.”

As they made their way to their seats, Lex asked, “Before I . . . before all . . .
this
, I was with some friends. We were in an ambush. Do you know if any of them survived?”

“Oh, you mean your commander and the native people of that prairie you were snatched from? Yes, many of them are quite safe.”

Lex almost dropped his mug again. “What? Do you mean Captain Houston is here?”

“Of course. As are your fellow officers. What were their names again? Smith? Yes, that’s it, Wilson Smith. Samuel J. Clark, too. A charming surgeon with a most cordial manner. Oh, and quite a number of those indigenous folk. Their chieftains are quite remarkable. Do you know, they’ve remained calm during the entire relocation process? My colleagues are quite impressed.”

Chieftains? Does he mean Snow Blizzard and his cronies?

“I see,” Lex mumbled. Slumping down, he vented a huge sigh of frustration. Then he cursed himself for forgetting the obvious. “And what about the young woman we were escorting? And her uncle? Please tell me they made it?”

“Lex! Relax. The process involved in bringing you here was quite complex. Let me assure you, almost your entire platoon survived the transition without incident. The young native girl and her protector included.”

“Thank God!”
At least I didn’t screw that aspect up.
He gazed into the flames.
I wonder
what other surprises I’m going to get tonight.

A ball of lightning appeared above the fire.

Lex managed to retain a firm grip on his coffee cup until it spoke.

*

Mac soared. Blinding white light engulfed him, burning him as it purified his soul. Transformed, he was lifted ever higher into the heavens.

So this is what it feels like to die. Strange, I thought it’d be over before I knew it. Still, this isn’t so bad.

The light dimmed. As his sight returned, he dared to peek between eyelids that had been squeezed firmly shut. A frantic, kaleidoscopic rush of conflicting impressions rushed past. They were followed by a deafening roar that threatened to swamp him. He screamed, only to discover no sound issued from his lungs.

I must be riding the leading edge of the shockwave.

Mac thought back to a previous time in his career when he’d been caught in a car bomb blast. On that occasion, he had been swatted away from the source of the explosion as if he were an insect in a gale. As the initial surprise receded, he had found himself sailing serenely through the air, as if swimming in a water-like medium. The trauma of the incident had turned everything into a torpid, slow-motion drama, and Mac remembered how weird it was to see every detail of the incident unfold around him so lethargically.

But this was different.

This experience was like being trapped in a wind tunnel, bowled along by a hurricane that was straining to overtake him. It overpowered his ability to think straight. Yet he hadn’t managed to qualify for Special Forces without being resilient.

Straining against the gale, Mac twisted and turned as hard as he could in an attempt to check on the welfare of the men under his command.
Nothing! I can’t see a damned thing.

An overwhelming compression blossomed behind him. Mac felt as though he’d been impaled on a thousand red-hot needles. His skin bubbled and blistered. The burning sensation sank into the pit of his stomach, and he doubled up into a fetal position. Just when he thought he might burst, his senses shattered. Before he knew it, he found himself in open free fall.

What . . . What the hell?

Surprised by both the transformation and the abrupt cessation of pain, he tumbled out of control. Over and over he went, cart wheeling at an ever faster rate as his speed of descent increased. A thrill surged through him. Familiarity gained from thousands of hours in the air filled him with sudden confidence.
This, I know how to do!

Reining in his panic, Mac adjusted his position, managing to slow the spin sufficiently for him to lean into the dive. Seconds later, he was on the hill and accelerating to terminal velocity.
Yeeeeeeehaaa!

The sheer exhilaration of the experience temporarily wiped his dilemma from his mind. Arching his body to achieve the perfect stable position, he did his best to take stock.
Where on earth am I?

Using his hands and feet, Mac began a very slow spiral and surveyed his surroundings. Blue sky, as clear as a lens, and cotton-candy clouds stretched off in every direction. Although he appeared to be bathed in glorious sunshine, he couldn’t actually pinpoint the sun anywhere above him. When he looked down, Mac was also unable to see any sign of land. And that was a paradox.
If I can’t see land, that means I’m so high I shouldn’t be able to breathe. I’d be on the edge of space. And I’d be freezing to death. But I’m not.

Then he noticed he wasn’t wearing a parachute.

He accepted the situation stoically.
Okay! Actually, this helps. There’s no way it can be real. I was on an oil rig and a nuclear bomb had just gone off in my face.

He glanced around the endless vista.
So. I’m either dead or dying, and on my way to goodness knows where, or I somehow survived and am in a hospital. Whether in a coma, on drugs, or a combination of the two, I don’t know. But
this
isn’t real. So what —

“An excellent deduction, Alan,” a voice out of nowhere announced. “Or would you prefer Mac?”

A shadow flashed past and before he knew it, Mac was buddies with an unknown, fellow skydiver. Someone, he noted, who also wasn’t wearing any equipment. Nor, if he was seeing things right, did he appear to be entirely human.

Mac suppressed a snort.
Looks like I’m suffering from severe head injuries, too. Where am I getting this stuff from?

“Oh, you’re not suffering from hallucinations, if that’s what you’re worried about,” his mystery companion said as he maneuvered closer, “but, as you have correctly surmised, neither are your current surroundings authentic. They are, in fact, a fabrication. Think of them as a lucid dream-like reality, through which we can communicate safely.”

“Okaaay,” Mac replied. “Say I buy what you’re selling. Who are you? What is this place and why am I here?”

“A man who likes to get straight to the point,” the stranger countered, with a smile. “Very well, this may save a lot of time in the long run. My name is Psi Calen. Just call me Calen. Like you, I’m not really here. I am part of a very sophisticated AI program left behind by the residents of the planet you now find yourself marooned on. And yes, before you ask, you really are on an entirely different world than Earth. A fact that will be proven to you very shortly.

“My image belongs to one of the leading scientists of the people who once populated this place. Through him, we hope to explain why it was so necessary to bring you here against your will.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously, my good friend. Here, let me demonstrate.”

Calen waved his hand, and they both began to rapidly decelerate. Coming to a halt in midair, the avatar pointed to one side. “Observe. Thankfully, you come from a time period sufficiently advanced for you to grasp many of the concepts you are about to see.”

The air rippled in front of them, and Mac found himself peering down on a vast chamber. Although the lighting within it was subdued, illumination was provided by a large number of very complex-looking monitors lining the walls and arranged in ranks through the center of the room. A cushioned therapy platform was positioned in front of each console, and a multitude of patients lay sleeping on the beds beneath them.

Every person wore a simple coronet made of what looked like silver metal. The bands themselves shone brightly from within. Above them, strange glowing balls zipped to and fro, buzzing and thrumming with power and hidden purpose. Calen pointed to one of the slumbering occupants. “Do you know him?”

Mac peered closer before letting out a whistle of surprise. “That’s me!”

“Yes. You will be pleased to know all members of your particular team survived the transition through the gateway to Arden. They, along with a number of other people from the drilling installation, are currently undergoing treatment and induction.”

The radiance encompassing several of the nearby positions brightened momentarily, allowing Mac to recognize Mark Stevens, Sean Masters, and Sam Pell. Looking further along the ward, he could see the series of medical stations curving away into the distance.
There must be thousands of people!
Mac was stunned. “So, why have you gone to all this trouble to get us here?”

“Because we need your help,” Calen replied solemnly. “May I introduce the colleague I spoke of earlier?”

“I guess so. Are you going to wake me up for that?”

“Not just yet, my friend.” Calen’s kindly face creased in regret. “Forgive me, but the neural cocoon we have placed about you allows us to download information directly into your mind at a much faster rate than would normally be possible.”

Mac couldn’t help but laugh as he thought of one of his favorite sci-fi trilogy classics from the turn of the twenty-first century. He had always loved the series, as it depicted the struggle of a group of human survivors who fought an ongoing guerilla war against their machine overlords.

Calen looked thoughtful as he assessed the contents of Mac’s mind. Then he broke into a broad grin. “A reasonable analogy. While our techniques are not as succinct as those employed within your work of fiction, you will nevertheless find our methods quite remarkable.”

“I’m sure I will,” Mac replied, still not quite believing he was really here. “When do we start?”

“Now would be as good a time as any. We are still treating some of the radiation burns you sustained when the nuclear device initiated, so we can use the time wisely.”

Gesturing calmly, Calen removed the scene of the chamber. Mac discovered himself seated behind a desk within a familiar briefing room back at Special Forces Headquarters, London. An inviting pot of Earl Grey tea awaited his attention, next to a bone china cup and saucer.

How thoughtful!

Helping himself, he noted Calen now stood in front of the incident board at the head of the room. Calen caught his eye, inclined his head, and said, “Mac, please let me introduce a sentinel.”

A concentrated ball of plasma appeared in the air, midway between the two men. A cheery voice rang out, “Welcome to Arden, Lieutenant Alan McDonald. It is a pleasure to meet you. As you have a basic grasp of current events, I will begin by summarizing the history of Arden. Through it, you will appreciate what led to our predicament, and why it was felt necessary for us to reach out over eighty thousand light years for help.”

“Eighty thousand light years?” Mac was astonished by the scope of the task involved.

“Yes. Although we occupy the same galaxy, we are as far apart as you can get.”

A rippling curtain of energy fluttered down from the ceiling. As soon as it touched the floor, a holographic image of the Milky Way bloomed to life. Two glowing points of light within it were joined by a sparkling ribbon of diffused colors.

The sentinel continued, “The blue area represents your home world, Earth. The green one, Arden. That glittering thread is the medium through which you were brought here. Now listen carefully, I am about to alter your state of consciousness into one more conducive to accelerated learning. Are you ready to begin?”

Mac gulped down his tea. After replacing the cup on the saucer, he nodded. “Please. Go ahead.”
Take the red pill! Take the red pill!