("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2011. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- Blue Planet - 2 by Mararch (mararch@pacbell.net) *** Robert and Debbie, newly married innocents, get pulled into the far future in order to help free humanity from a race of Dominant females. Novel length. (MF, bi, nc, 1st, orgy, bd, mc, sci-fi) *** CHAPTER TWO Every muscle went instantly limp and they fell, the natural limits of their joints causing them to tumble back, arms slipping from around each other, bodies parting as they sank into a pair of crumpled heaps. Strangely, the surface they landed on was surprisingly soft, as if they had been tossed like rag dolls onto a deep, rich feather bed. The thunk of their landing faded with a strange, hollow echo and they lay, immobile, breathing deeply, slowly, in a shattered daze. As their minds began to slowly collect, they first became aware of the low, distant hum that seemed to permeate the very air around where they lay. Then, slowly, they opened their eyes. What they saw was mostly a gently glowing whiteness that seemed to fill the entire universe, having no recognizable source. Rather it seemed to ooze from every direction. Robert was the first to try and move, his natural instincts telling him to seek out any danger that might lurk in this strange, unknown environment. But he quickly discovered that he was unable to command any of his muscles to do more than flutter or twitch helplessly. It seemed as if the only thing he could control was the direction his eyeballs were focused, and as he flicked them around rapidly, scanning his surroundings, he could make out very little that made sense. A shock of panic roared through him. Where was Debbie? What had happened to them? And where was he? With a supreme effort he focused his concentration on the muscles of his shoulders and legs and strained with all his might. Vibrating like plucked bowstrings they obeyed and he succeeded in forcing his torso over onto his side, though the effort exhausted him. Yet as his head lulled over he caught a fleeting glimpse of Debbie's legs splayed and limp somewhere beyond his own. She was here, with him. But was she all right? Suddenly a high, reedy, thin voice echoed through the air, as if from some unseen speaker. "Please do not attempt to move. You are in no danger. You will regain control of your body in a very few minutes. Attempting to move now may result in muscular damage. Everything is all right. Just relax." Part of Robert's mind instantly became wary, but the gentle, soothing tone of the voice did help calm him and he allowed his muscles to go limp. The strange sensation of twitching, fluttering and tiny flexing rippled along his arms and legs and even across his stomach, and he was vaguely reminded of that experiment back in high school biology where a dead frog's leg was touched with a wire connected to a battery and kicked out mindlessly. He took advantage of his helplessness to do a quick inventory of his physical condition. As far as he could tell from the sensations his skin were transmitting to his brain he was dressed only in his jockey shorts and the half unbuttoned shirt with the tight collar that had caused him such discomfort during the wedding ceremony. Rented tuxedoes, he thought idly. And it struck him that the flash of Debbie's legs he'd seen had been encased in the white, shimmering stockings she'd worn under her wedding dress. In fact, he realized, the last conscious thought he could recall before finding himself in this strange place had been of stepping up, wrapping his arms around Debbie and kissing her. Then... then what, he wondered. Then here. But where in hell was here? He drew in a deep breath and attempted to wiggle the fingers of his left hand. He found that though feeling a bit stiff, he was able to command them to slowly ball into a fist and uncurl to their full length. He repeated the experiment with his right hand. Next he carefully flexed his wrists and slowly made a functional inventory up the length of his arms to the shoulders. The voice had been correct. He was coming out of it, whatever it had been in the first place. Finally he was able to plant a palm against the soft, almost spongy surface on which he lay and push himself up, slowly turning his head to where he had seen Debbie. She was there, and she was moving, her posture like that of a small child asleep, one arm resting across the corset at her stomach, the other drawn up, the fingers laying limply against her face. She appeared to be sleeping. A wave of relief passed over Robert. She was all right, he told himself. Then he slowly turned his head and scanned their surroundings. He saw that they were, in fact, in a large windowless room, every surface composed of the thickly padded white that seemed to glow at him from all sides, above and below. By squinting he was able to judge that the ceiling must be ten feet overhead and the walls were at least twice that distance away on any side of them. He looked down at where his palm was pressed into the floor and wiggled the tips of his fingers. It felt like soft suede leather drawn loosely over thick, soft padding but it too seemed to glow gently from some inner light. He looked slowly around the room once more, trying to pick out anything that would indicate a door or window but able to see little in the fog of light that assailed him from every direction. "Hello?" he called out, his voice choked and harsh. "Anybody out there?" His voice sounded strange in the room, as if it wanted very much to echo but was being swallowed and smothered by every surrounding surface. "What's going on?" he called, his voice gathering strength. "Where are we?" There was a very faint click and the high, gentle voice returned. "Please do not be alarmed. You are perfectly fine. Explanations will be made shortly. No harm has come to you." Robert snorted quietly. "Terrific," he muttered, turning his attention back to where Debbie was lying. Her eyes were open now and she was actually stretching, as if coming awake from a deep, restful sleep. But as her mind seemed to drift up through the haze her face grimaced and she moaned. Then she rolled her head and focused on where Robert was already, slowly, painfully, working his way up onto his hands and knees. "Robert?" she said quietly, her voice quiet and tense. "Just relax, honey," he said, soothingly, managing finally to get over onto all fours and clumsily maneuver toward her. "I think we're okay." "Where are we?" she asked, her own gaze slowly sweeping the space. "I don't know. But we're not alone." Her eyes turned quickly back to him and there was concern in them. "It's okay," he said reassuringly. "I don't think anybody wants to hurt us." "But," she said, now beginning her own struggle to sit up, "what happened? How did we get here?" "I don't know, sweetheart," he said, finally dropping over onto his haunch beside her and turning into a sitting position. "But I damn well had better find out." Debbie managed to push herself up onto one hip, bracing herself on a locked arm, reaching out with the other to touch and hold his elbow. "Robert, I..." she said, her voice tense. He laid a hand across her own at his arm. "Shhh," he said, soothingly. "Don't be afraid. We're going to be all right. I promise." They looked at each other and his warm, reassuring smile seemed to be all she needed to build a calmness upon. She smiled back and he felt her fingers squeeze his elbow gently. Suddenly there was a loud hiss from the wall which they were both more or less facing and their attention was pulled in that direction just in time to see a vertical gap running from ceiling to floor begin to open, like an invisible elevator door parting. Inside the gap stood a shadow, back lit by an even brighter glow from beyond the opening. Surprisingly, the figure, though clearly human, appeared quite short and rotund, almost dwarfish. Robert and Debbie exchanged a surprised glance and quickly turned their attention back to the figure who stepped briskly into the room and approached them. As it neared they could clearly see that it was a man, no more than four feet tall and quite stout, wearing a long, straight cut light gray tunic. He stepped up to within a few feet from where the stunned couple sat on the soft surface, his arms apparently clasped behind his back. "Well," he said in a high, reedy though surprisingly pleasant voice "I see you're recovering nicely. Please, come with me." With that he turned on his heels and took a step back toward the glowing opening in the wall. "Wait a minute," Robert bellowed, half in annoyance, half in surprise as he awkwardly pushed himself to his feet. The figure stopped, turned and regarded him with curiosity. "Yes?" the little man asked, calmly. "What the hell," Robert roared, "is going on around here? Where are we? What did you do to us?" The little man seemed to absorb this as if it were nothing at all out of the ordinary and tossed off a bland, tolerant smile. "All your questions will be answered shortly. Please, come with me." And once again he turned and was moving in brisk, stunted steps toward the opening. Robert stared down at Debbie and they exchanged a look of bemusement. But then Debbie shrugged and extended a hand which Robert took, helping her to her feet. She wobbled slightly as the sharp heels of her shoes sank into the padded surface, but Robert steadied her and, hand in hand, they followed the little man through the gap in the wall. Beyond was a long hallway, again every surface emitting a dim, shimmering white glow, that seemed to extend into infinity in a straight line before them. But at least the floor was hard and solid and Debbie was able to completely regain her balance. The little man set a brisk pace and the couple found they had to take surprisingly large strides to keep up. Slowly, out of the fog-like glow before them they were able to make out a shape of something in the hallway, also white on just about every visible surface. As they approached they realized it was some form of sleek-looking little cart. The little man paused as he reached it and turned, extending an arm to indicate the small, padded seat that faced back the way they had come. Robert and Debbie stopped, exchanged another glance and another shrug and stepped over to slip onto the seat. It was a tight squeeze, their hips pressing hard against one another but it wasn't terribly uncomfortable. The little man slid into the small operators seat, flipped a switch and the cart started down the hallway with the high, quiet whine of some sort of engine. As surprised as they were Robert and Debbie said nothing during the brief journey, though they did grip each other's hands a bit tighter when it seemed that the little cart was cruising upwards to a rather harrowing speed down the tunnel. But the ride was smooth with no hint of any irregularity in the flooring. Robert once attempted to turn his head around, catch a glimpse of where they might be heading, but the tightness on the seat prevented this. Besides, as the hallway passed out behind the cart, they could see nothing that appeared to indicate anything like doors or openings or breaks of any kind in its long length. Wherever they were, this was one mind-bogglingly long way to get there. Robert saw Debbie's head move out of the corner of his eye and he turned to find her looking at him, a warm smile on her face. She mouthed "I love you" and squeezed his hand. His own smile brightened and he nodded at her. "Me too" he mouthed. Then their attention drifted back to watch the interminable hall falling away behind them. It seemed to them as if ten minutes had passed by the time they felt the little cart begin to slow, and they had no way of judging how rapidly they had traveled. But at last the vehicle drifted to a stop and the whine of the engine died out. Even as Robert was turning to see what was happening, the little man slid from the driver's seat and extended an arm, indicating a small recess in the wall. "This way, please," he said with pleasant efficiency. Again the couple exchanged a glance, this time a sigh and rose from the seat, following the little man into the recess which turned out to be an elevator with a small, almost indistinguishable control panel in one corner. There appeared to be only two buttons. The little man pressed the top one. The doors slid closed and the couple felt the elevator begin to rise as they instinctively brushed and then held hands. Perhaps it was the familiarity of the surroundings, perhaps it was simply that their alertness was beginning to return but Robert suddenly realized that he was still dressed only in his half-open shirt and jockey shorts. With a start he looked over and realized that Debbie was still dressed only in that mouth-watering collection of tight satin and lace and garters and stockings. She seemed to notice his sudden movement and looked at him, her eyes displaying concern. Robert flicked his glance down at her body and she instantly realized what he meant. Her lips curled in an impish, carefree grin and she shrugged, as if to say there was very little they could do about it at this point, and turned to look, casually, at the door of the elevator. Robert was surprised by this attitude and almost began to become annoyed at her casualness, but then quickly realized that she was, indeed, correct. What could they do about it for now. Still, he did reach casually up with his free hand and absently begin buttoning the shirt. The elevator rose for more than a full minute, and as they felt the pressure begin to build in their ears and then pop they exchanged another glance, sharing an unspoken concern about just how high they were going. At last they could feel the elevator slow and glide to a stop. The door slid open shocking them both at what lay on the other side. It was the deep, rich wood paneling of a tastefully carpeted and furnished hallway. Many rich paintings in ornate frames adorned the walls and as the little man stepped from the elevator and turned back to them, once again extending his hand in indication for them to step down the hallway to the left, they noticed that the furniture, small tables and lushly upholstered chairs was quite rich and ornate. As they shuffled from the elevator the little man stepped off once more, leading them down the hallway and turning to stop in front of a rather nondescript looking door on which he knocked. As he waited he turned to them with the bland smile of a minor functionary, not terribly interested in more than completing his current assignment and moving on to the next one. The door opened a few inches and the young couple could make out the shadow of someone in the gap. Whoever this was he also, surprisingly, appeared to be quite short. A moment later the door opened fully and the little man who had led them tossed them one final smile and extended an arm, indicating for them to enter the room. As they stepped forward the little man turned and strode off down the hall, his task, apparently, completed. Even before they were fully into the room Robert jerked to a halt, his eyes widening, mouth falling open in surprise. The space was odd in that it was not a box shape but rather a large oval. To the left of the door through which they'd entered were a bank of tall windows in front of which sat a huge, ornate desk, allowing the person sitting between it and the windows to look over at the ornate main door opposite it. But what had shocked Robert was the large image in the very center of the carpet that filled the room. It was a large circular seal featuring a bald eagle and ringed around the outside with the text "Seal of the President of the United States". Behind him Debbie slipped into the room and also shuddered to a stop, her back stiffening in surprise as her eyes picked out the same images as her new husband. Slowly they turned to exchange a wide-eyed look of shock and surprise. "Greetings!" called a high, sharp voice and both the couple's heads snapped toward the desk. Stepping around the corner of it was another little man, this one even shorter than their original guide, a cotton candy fluff of white hair piled on his round little face as he strode toward where Robert and Debbie remained rooted in surprise. He too wore the gray tunic buttoned to the neck even as he approached them, his face beaming, arms extended in welcome. "Come in, come in!" he called, waving his extended hands for them to move further into the room. Robert looked around and noticed yet a third little man standing, half-hidden by the door through which they'd passed. He was completely bald, gaunt with sunken eyes and a sad countenance and his tunic was also the uniform, nondescript gray. Robert stepped uncertainly into the room, pulling a slightly wobbly Debbie along behind him and the gaunt little man pushed the door closed. "No need to stand on ceremony here" the white haired little man was saying as he gently ushered them toward a large sofa standing at an angle to the desk, "we're all very informal. Besides, I suppose we should apologize for... pulling you out so unexpectedly, so to speak." The little man chuckled and gestured for them to take seats on the couch which, after a sideways glance at one another, they did. For his part the little man waddled his short, round bulk to a large, wingback chair and had to practically scale the seat before he turned and settled back into it, crossing his legs which jutted straight out extending only a few inches over the seat's edge. "Now?" he continued, suddenly all business. "I suppose you have quite a number of questions you would like answered, but we really have very little time, so allow me to give you the ten cent explanation if you will, after which I will elaborate on any additional curiosities. Fair enough?" Robert and Debbie exchanged a glance and slowly nodded. The little man shared the nod and settled even deeper into the folds of the plush leather upholstery. "Very well. Well, first of all, as you must have figured out by now, I am the President of the United States." As if to forestall their expected objections to this he added quickly "not the one you know, of course. . My name is Jubilation Gazatchorn. And it is my honor to meet you. You see... well, I can't think of any other way to put this than to just say it... The long and short of it is... you have been lifted out of your own time and brought some three hundred and sixty seven years, three months and fourteen days into what would be your future." He paused, allowing the statement to penetrate, then continued briskly. "Now I'm sure you want to know how we did this, and also why. I'll try to explain but you must bear in mind that temporal continuum physics is not my particular specialty. However, I will endeavor to enlighten you as best I can." "This isn't happening," Robert muttered dully, staring open-mouthed at the rotund little man who seemed to be practically swallowed by the richly upholstered chair. "We're dreaming. Or crazy. Or... dead." "Oh, I can assure you," the little man said with a patient smile "it's quite real. Believe me. After all, how do you feel. Doesn't it feel real?" After a moments assessment of the sensations bombarding him Robert had to admit to himself that it did indeed feel quite real, down to the slight tingle of the hairs on his bare legs caused by the motion of air in the room. He shot a glance at Debbie and saw from her expression that she also had decided that this was not some sort of mad dream. He turned back to the little man who seemed to take this as a sign for him to continue. He nodded once and laced his fingers in front of himself. "Basically, about fifty years ago or so our scientists stumbled on a way to accelerate sub-atomic particles beyond the speed of light. In essence, they managed to cause these particles to reverse their temporal direction... to go backwards in time, so to speak. "After much experimentation they discovered if they could concentrate enough of these particles they could literally tear a hole in the fabric of time-space... a sort of worm hole, I believe they call it. And that by controlling the exact speed these particles achieved, as well as the frequency of their vibration they could tune them so that the other end of the worm-hole could be made to appear in a particular and specific time-space. It's sort of like tuning a..." The little man tossed a glance at the gaunt, bald man who now stood, arms folded before him, solemnly, in front of the desk. "Radio," the gaunt little man said in a surprisingly baritone voice. "Ah yes," the President said, turning his attention back to the overwhelmed couple. "A radio. Only instead of picking up different channels, it will open in different times and places throughout... well, throughout history." The little President smiled as if mightily pleased with himself, then continued. "We, that is our scientists, conducted numerous experiments, always at very low power settings, you understand, and determined that while we would not be able to send anything through this wormhole, it was theoretically possible to bring something back. They conducted several small scale tests over the years and succeeded in retrieving a number of small items. Exactly one year ago they finally managed to retrieve, intact and perfectly healthy, a live bunny rabbit from the sixteenth century. Isn't that marvelous?" The little President was beaming now as if being able to shoot a rabbit several hundred years into the future was a major accomplishment. "Well, when that happened, we knew we had the tool we needed to help solve our..." He hesitated as if catching himself just before revealing something best not spoken of, flicking a glance at the gaunt man standing before the desk. "Our... problem," he said quietly. "What problem," Robert said, now suddenly suspicious. "All in good time" the little President said, then continued his explanation. "That, in a nutshell, as you used to say, is how you were brought here. If you would like a more detailed explanation, I'm afraid you'd have to ask some of our technical people. And frankly I don't think you're really ever understand it all that well. But, that brings us to why you were brought here. And that, I'm afraid, is a much more complicated and delicate subject." The little President pushed himself forward on the chair and slid down to the floor. Taking a moment to pull his tunic back into place where it had risen up behind him, he laced his fingers behind his back and strode, slowly, his face now turning grim, toward the high bank of windows behind the desk. "A little over two hundred years ago everything in this city... this country... No, on this planet, would have been terribly familiar to you, I'm sure." The little President moved solemnly around the desk and stopped, his gaze directed out the gauzy curtains at whatever might lay beyond. "People were..." He paused, sighed and continued "well, very much as you are. Tall... strong... full of energy and purpose. Promise. That's what they had. The promise of a wonderful future. Certainly technology had continued at a steady pace from your day. Our systems became smarter, more efficient. They helped us solve many of the problems that were plaguing us even in your day." He turned to regard them, his day almost sadly wistful. "Even a hundred years after your time, there was no more hunger, no more oppression, no excess of disease. We were working our way, as a species, to that paradise we had always dreamed of. One of the things we finally, at long last, began to concentrate our efforts as a species on, was the exploration of the mysteries of the outer universe. We colonized Terrel Arid... you would have known it as..." He tossed another glance at the gaunt little man. "Mars," the man said. "Yes," the little President said, turning back to the couple. "Mars. And we were even sending deep space probes flashing across the open, empty reaches of the universe in search of... well, anyone else who might have been out there." He paused, thoughtfully and heaved a large, sad sigh, turning his gaze once again back to the windows. "And then, about two hundred years ago... we found them." A deep silence settled over the room for a long moment as Debbie and Robert waited for the little official to continue. At last he drew in a deep breath, as if steeling himself to continue. "They intercepted one of our probes. It contained a digital map on how to find our planet. If it hadn't, most likely they never would have even known we were here. But they did. Alas. And they came. At first we thought it was so wonderful, so thrilling, to finally know we are not alone in the universe. That there are other intelligent beings out there, perhaps our organic brothers and sisters. And at first, they did seem completely benevolent. Even helpful. When we discovered that wasn't the case... It was far too late to prevent our.... our conquest." The little man fell silent once more, his head hung defeatedly as he stared at some infinitely distant spot on the floor. After a long moment Robert cleared his throat and spoke quietly. "Who were they? Space monsters?" The little President slowly raised his head, his expression hard and cold now, directed out the windows. "Oh yes," he said quietly, with surprising venom in his tone. "Monsters. Vicious fiends." "So," Robert said, hesitatingly "what did they do?" The little President's head suddenly snapped around and he glared at Robert with a startling fury. His little arms shot out as if to present his diminutive form. "This," he growled in quiet fury. "They did this." There was a thick tension in the room for a beat, then the little mans hands fell limply to his sides and he sighed. "Apparently it was some kind of virus. A disease they carried and which we caught. It was virulent and air- borne and incurable. And over the space of only two generations it did this to us. Our average height shrank to thirty-six inches. Our proportional weight doubled. Our bones became brittle and puny. But worst of all..." He tossed a tight glance at the gaunt man before continuing. "Worst of all," he repeated for emphasis "it left us unable to... to..." "Procreate," the gaunt little man said flatly. "Yes!" the little President barked, a bit sharply. "Our... things shriveled to uselessness. Our hormones were drained until we became weak, little replicas of men, not real men at all. And it all happened within three generations. When we finally woke up to the fact that what was happening was not just some horrible phenomenon but an epidemic... it was already too late. And the most terrible thing is... they did it deliberately." The little President turned and moved briskly to the desk, scrambling up into the chair and climbing right onto the desktop, walking to stand at its corner, his head now above that of the couple, forcing them to look up to him as his voice strengthened and he became more animated. "It was a deliberate attack against us! An engineered virus designed to sap our will, drain our strength and make of us the helpless, ineffectual creatures you see before you. Of course, they didn't do it to all of us. Oh no! They kept a few, for purposes of their own amusement, to sate their own... Unholy lusts! They sank them into a slavery far deeper than the human mind can conceive. "For the rest of us, they simply wanted us to rendered powerless, so that we would never interfere with their monstrous plans to take over the entire galaxy. Because, you see, we were not the first they had conquered in this way. Oh no. We were but one out of many. By the time they arrived they had already subjugated countless other races, other cultures, other planets. They mean nothing less than to rule the universe." The little President stood, his chest heaving, eyes wide and wild, arms raised. Then he seemed to come back to himself and slowly lowered his hands, a weak smile spreading over his face. "Sorry. I sometimes get a bit carried away." "Did this happen to everybody?" Robert asked, a small shudder of disgust rippling through him. "No," the little President said with sigh. He bobbed his head toward Debbie. "Some of them weren't affected." Robert was momentarily perplexed as he glanced at Debbie. "Them? You mean... women?" "Yes," the President replied. "Being genetically so similar to the original carriers of the disease, a small percentage of them escaped any effects. But those that did were ruthlessly indoctrinated into their ranks and most have left this planet long ago." "I'm not sure I understand," Robert said, struggling to make sense of all he'd just heard. "From infancy," the President said "they would be easily recognized in those first few generations... the ones" again he nodded toward Debbie "of that kind that had not fallen prey to the sickness. They were taken from their parents to be raised by... them. Now there are very few left. The only ones like her... or you" the President said, directing his nod at Robert this time "are visitors... tourist I think you called them. Or those who have been given power or authority here." "But," Debbie said suddenly, her own curiosity rising "you said that you've lost the ability to... you know... Have babies. So how do you..." She left the statement dangling in the air. "Why, by what you used to call cloning," the little President said simply. He straightened his back as if posing. "I am the seventh Jubilation Gazatchorn, cloned from the sixth. And when my time runs short I will contribute my genetic material for the eighth Jubilation. In fact, I or rather a previous version of me has been President of the United States for close to one hundred years now." "Wait a minute," Robert said sharply "you weren't elected?" The little man tossed a sidelong glance at the gaunt dwarf who stood unmoving and heaved a baleful sigh. "What would be the point? We don't have any sort of real authority any more. We haven't, ever since... they first landed. The conquerors have a Governor here that actually runs things. All we really do is simply keep the wheels greased, so to speak. Myself, the President of the Russian Collective, the various surviving clones of long dead kings and ministers. We are nothing more than middle managers. Our job is to shuffle papers from place to place and see about the distribution of the remaining resources we have been allowed to keep since... Well..." The President lowered himself until he was sitting on the corner of the desk, his stubby legs dangling over the edge, hands folded in his lap like a properly obedient child. "But," he said quietly, a sly, knowing grin spreading over his lips "that may prove to be all that we need to break this affliction that's kept us in virtual slavery as a race for centuries now. And with any luck, it may just allow us to fight back, once and for all... to finally make our stand to save this little blue planet from eventual extinction." "And how," Robert said, "would you be able to do that." "Well," the President said, his voice hushed but with an edge of excitement as he leaned forward conspiratorially, "we are not the only species, the only planet struggling to throw off the yoke of this horrible oppression and return to our past glories... our past selves. There are others, working quietly, secretly, in the shadows of the galaxy to rid themselves of their chains and return to what they once were. We have information that there is a species, very similar to our own, perhaps even our genetic twin, that has been working for many years to find a cure for the virus that did this to not only us but them as well. To reverse its effects. And we have learned that they have finally managed to work out the coding needed to build just such a cure. "Unfortunately, their planet lacks many of the basic resources required to build this new strain. But it so happens that another discontented planet has an environment that is rich with them." 'So why don't you just get them to send them some, or get them to send you or them the formula?" Robert asked. "Ah," the President beamed with a grin "why don't we indeed. Because nothing can move around this galaxy... no object, no sub-atomic particle, no tiny broadcast shred of information, without first being cleared by... them. Anyone who attempts such things not only fails but is punished in ways too hideous to mention. And the formula, the recipe for this cure is so complex it would take hundreds of hours of compressed transmissions to send from place to place. Long before it was completed the signals would be interrupted and the perpetrators... well..." The President rolled his eyes knowing before fixing on them once more. "At any rate, control of everything that moves throughout the galaxy is firmly in the hands of our oppressors. And on top of that, every single being on this planet is genetically registered and marked. Our movements are recorded and watched constantly. And currently our planet is under a travel ban. None of our citizens are allowed to travel to other worlds, and only a very elite few are allowed to visit us. So you see, there is simply no way for us to send our distant ally the materials they would need to build a prototype of this wonderful, miraculous cure. There is, however, a way we can go get the formula and take it to a place where it can be constructed." "How," Debbie said, her voice a fascinated whisper. The President turned his gaze to her and smiled impishly. "You," he said. There was a long moments silence before anyone spoke. "What," Robert said, his voice dull. "Please, let me explain," the President said patiently. "When we began experimenting with the time technology, we did some secret experiments at very low power settings, moving tiny pieces of organic matter. We discovered we could move living tissue intact and with no damage. But we also discovered that even that small expenditure of energy was noted by those who are watching us. There was quite a controversy about it at the time. They keep close watch on things like that. That was when we realized that it would require a tremendous flash of energy in order to fulfill the plan we were developing." "What plan," Robert said flatly. "We realized," the President went on "that we would have one single opportunity to move something large... something substantial through an artificially created wormhole. After that there would be considerable attention focused on where all that energy was used. So a secret facility was constructed over the last fifty years deep beneath the earth some miles from this very spot, in a place that you would have known as..." "Virginia," the gaunt man said in response to the Presidents tossed glance. "Yes," the President echoed "Virginia. And a way of connecting it directly to this building... this office. Which you already know about." "Fine," Robert said, interrupting the little man "so you took your best shot, yanked us through time and now you can't do it again for...how long...?" "Ever," the President said, sadly. "You see, it is only a matter of time before one of their ships arrives to investigate the energy surge, and they probe the location where it was registered and discover the facility." "And what happens then?" Debbie asked. "Then," the President said with a sigh, "they will destroy it, and all those who were involved in the project will be... disciplined." "How," Debbie whispered, her eyes wide. "I don't know," the President said solemnly. "But it will be a small price to pay, whatever it is, if it means our people... our planet is finally freed from this tyranny." Robert and Debbie exchanged a look, the seriousness of the situation slowly sinking into both their thoughts. "Well," Robert said, turning back to the President "I can see what you mean. We used to feel the same way about our freedom... in our day." "Indeed," the President said quietly. "There's just one thing I still don't understand," Debbie said. "Why are we here?" The President smiled at her. "You are here," he said, "because we need your help to save this planet from slavery." "Our help... how," Robert said cautiously. "We need for you to travel off-world, meet the courier who will give you the codes for the cure and take them to where it can be constructed." A silence fell over the room for a long moment as Robert and Debbie turned to look at each other. "Why us," Robert said. "Why pick us?" "Because," the President said quietly "there are certain vital criteria that had to be met if our plan is to succeed." "Such as?" Robert asked. The President gave a sharp, understanding nod and clasped his hands behind his back, turning to pace the surface of the desk. "Such as the fact that we needed someone from before the disease was introduced to this world. Someone whose genetic code was clean. And someone who was, for all intents and purposes, completely free from any records. We needed someone invisible to all current tracking methods. Also, it was vital that, when we punched open the wormhole that we do so at the precise moment and location where we knew someone would be located. Someone who fit the profile we required. We looked through all the surviving records we could find from your time and a hundred years before and after it. We were able to track down many individual pieces of information that might have fit what we required, but one or another vital piece was always missing, rendering the rest utterly useless. Only in your single case did we know with absolute certainly that you would be exactly where you were, exactly when you were." "How," Robert said, his voice thick with surprise. "Oh," the President said, waving a dismissive hand "it was a chore but we did it. We found a fragment of a data file on an old computer disk from an ancient machine in a collapsed ruin of a building that turned out to have been what you would call a hotel." "The Hilton," Robert said, his voice almost an amazed whisper. "Yes," the President said. "And that data fragment, once cleaned and translated told us the precise day you arrived there, and the precise time the vehicle you traveled in arrived. We also managed to find the original blueprints for the building, so we cross- referenced that with a topographical map and ran an extensive computer program to determine exactly where, in relative space, that room would be in relation to where the other end of the wormhole was being created. Once we had the first piece of data it took over fifteen years to assemble to proper program and prepare to make our single possible attempt. Fortunately, it was completely successful." "So," Robert said slowly, trying to piece together all the information, "let me get this straight. You picked us because... we were the only people you managed to exactly locate at a given time on a given day in a given place from a time a couple of hundred years ago?" "Precisely," the President said with a sharp nod. Robert absorbed this, nodding slowly, thoughtfully, then looked the little man in the eye. "Suppose we say we won't do it." The little President cocked an eyebrow, threw a quick glance out of the corner of his eye toward the gaunt man and lowered his gaze, embarrassed. "I'm afraid," he said quietly, "you don't have any choice." "What do you mean," Robert said quickly, his suspicion returning. "Because," the President said "we cannot return you to your own time." "What/" Robert hissed, his eyes widening in surprise. The President looked up at him, his brow now creased with worry. "As I told you, it took tremendous energy to get you here. And we have never experimented with the process in reverse. By the time we finished any such experiments we would long since have been... prevented by... well..." He shrugged, apologetically. "However," he quickly added, "we can arrange to get you back, once the mission is completed." "How?" Robert said, his voice flat and hard. "The planet to which you will be taking the code. We have managed, over the last century, to send them, in tiny bits and pieces, enough data for them to build their own temporal generator. And we understand that they are working on the process necessary to return you to your own time, once your task is completed." "So what you're saying," Robert said flatly, "is we have to do what you want, or we're stuck here for good." The President smiled sheepishly. "I'm afraid that is the gist of it, yes." Robert was beginning to grow angry. He slowly rose to his feet so he was now at eye level to where the President stood before him on the surface of the desk. "So what if we don't care," Robert said loudly, suddenly feeling the rage building up in him at the unfairness of it all. "You know what you did? We were just about to... to... We were... " He sputtered a moment, fighting the urge to reveal exactly what it was that had been interrupted, finally blowing out a tight, exasperated breath. "Well anyway, what if we say we won't do it and we'll just stay here from now on." The President gave him a sad smile. "I'm afraid," he said quietly, "that if you do that, you won't last very long." "Meaning?" Robert said quietly, already dreading the possible answers. "Meaning," the President continued, "you would very quickly be discovered to be a non-person, with no record, no monitoring, no history, and you would be... well, believe me, it would not be pleasant." Robert glared at the little man who stood before him on the desktop, hands folded before him like some stubborn, unmoving little poodle. "I ought to knock you on your ass," Robert growled at him. "Robert, no." Surprised at the sadness rather than shock in her tone, Robert turned to Debbie, his face falling open in surprise. "He's right," she said quietly. "We need to do this." "Why?" Robert said, his voice loud and groping. "Because" she said, patiently, slowly "he needs our help. And this is our planet. Our home." Robert clamped his jaw tight and stared at her, barely able to believe what he had just heard. But the look in her eye as she fixed on him quickly told him that she was absolutely right. Even if they had no other choice, and having that decision taken from him angered him, Robert suddenly realized that, despite the unfair way in which they had been thrust into this situation, they had an obligation, as humans if nothing else, to do something that might possibly help save their entire race. The silence was deep and profound, but at last Robert's jaw relaxed and he slowly nodded that he understood and that she was absolutely correct. "Oh all right," he said, his tone that of a sulking child. "What do we have to do." The little President clapped his hands together in utter glee. "I knew we could count of you," he bellowed in delight, hustling quickly over to hop down into the chair and then the floor, bustling around the desk to stand close by the sofa. "It's really very simple," he said quickly, excitedly. "As I told you, only certain visitors are allowed to travel to and from our planet. Last month two of them arrived here. A very wealthy, very important lady and her man slave. Unfortunately they met with a rather serious... accident." "What do you mean, accident," Robert said, his tone cautious. "A fatal one, I'm afraid" the President said, a cruel grin spreading over his lips, which he quickly suppressed before continuing. "At any rate, we will slip you into their identities and you will then be able to travel to the rendezvous with the courier with no one being the wiser." "I thought you said everyone was.. you know... monitored... Recorded" Robert said. "Oh, all the subjugated races are" the President said hastily. "Not the ruling race. They wouldn't stand for that." "Ruling race" Debbie repeated. "So this woman was...?" "One of our oppressors, yes." the President said with a solemn nod. "What kind of people are these," Debbie said, slowly, cautiously. The President appeared startled for a moment. "Oh," he said. "I thought I'd made that clear. They are the warrior class of a militaristic, aggressive, xenophobic, matriarchy." "Matriarchy," Robert said slowly. "Yes," the President said, his expression blank. "Women." To be continued? ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author does not condone the described behavior in real life in anyway shape or form. Anyone tempted to act out any of the scenarios in this story; should seriously consider seeking professional help. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Kristen's collection - Directory 71