Alien Impulses

As I watched them head to their car and leave the church, crowd waving in the wake, I was as homesick as ever I had been. "You haven't got video of me being born, have you?", I asked, not really ready for that particular experience.

"No, sorry, the cameras only really see objects well in the open. This model can't see through material as thick as concrete or steel. But", he raised a finger to the screen, "watch this."

There was a blue car on a sunny day. I recognised it instantly. Dealy Plaza, Dallas, Texas. From an angle no-one had ever seen before. I watched, enthralled, as it played itself out. Once it was over, with the Presidential car streaking away, carrying the mortally wounded Kennedy, I turned to Bassar. "You know how important this could be?"

He smiled. "Of course. We'll give you a copy of all this, and the rest of the data. These are just the highlights. There's a bunch of stuff you'll want to see, much of which relates to Earth history. It might help you explode a few myths when you get back there."

I watched the movie, chatting occasionally with Bassar. There were many more treats. We saw Johann Sebastian Bach walking to work at the St Thomas Church in Leipzig in 1724. We watched the assassination attempt on General Heydrich in Budapest in 1944 and the landings at Normandy the same year. We watched Apollo 17 lift off from Florida at night. There was even that horribly unforgettable white smudge in the sky which was Challenger coming apart in 1986. These, he repeated, were the highlights.

"What's wrong with myths?", I wanted to know. "If I play some of this stuff, the controversial things, it could have just a massive impact. Change people's lives, their whole world-views. Is it right to disturb humanity in such a way?"

Bassar let the movie show its last two scenes -- Hendrix at the Isle of Wight Festival and the sinking of the Titanic -- and then answered.

"It depends if you're happy to live your life being lied to. There is an answer to everything, even the greatest mysteries. To bury one's head in the sands of ignorance, revelling in self-serving myth and ignoring the actual truth, is somewhat irresponsible. Your planet suffers very much from this. Governments, religions, social institutions... they all interpret the truth, rather than simply serving the truth, respecting the truth. If your people are still buried under an avalanche of stone-age religious myth, it might be time to take a closer look at your methods of enquiry, and at your education system."

"What do you mean? Most people are comfortable with their beliefs. They find them helpful, that they provide security and comfort in a weird world." He held up a hand.

"That beings who have sent men to their moon and probed the farthest reaches of their solar system still hold a belief in a supernatural creator being is quite absurd." He said it simply, finally. I saw that there was no discussing this question with him.

The final credits were rolling and we both got up and walked into the lobby of the theatre. "Did you find that illuminating?"

I smiled at him, put a hand on his shoulder. "That blew my mind. The technology alone... and the concept... amazing. Thank you."

We walked out of the theatre, and were back in the airport-style waiting area I had originally walked into from the cruiser. "How do you feel?"

I wondered what he meant. "I feel great. I'm enjoying being here."

He looked at me, then off to the side, out at the strange, artificial planet beneath us. "How does the day after tomorrow sound?"

Was this what I thought it was? "I am supposed to spend two weeks here. I signed an agreement to that effect which was crystal clear about changes in the schedule..."

"Who do you think devised the schedule?", he said, smiling.

There was a lot of work to be done, but the efficiency and organisational skills of these people was simply matchless. I was in fairly much constant meetings, discussing both the technical aspects of Chrono-travel, to gain a more complete understanding of their methods, and the more practical, down-to-earth (!) implications.

We were two hours through a planning meeting. "If the Cruiser is at the bottom of a lake", Cyto wanted to know, "how are you going to get out your resource suitcases?" Cyto had been Bassar's partner during their successful time-travel experiment, and he now helped run the program.

I thought about this one. "I could bring them out with me when I leave the Cruiser", I offered, "and leave them at the bottom of the hill. Once I've seen myself leave, I return to the same spot, pick them up and walk back to my car with them."

"You have a vehicle?" Cyto asked, bringing up satellite photos of Snowdonia on the date in question. He zoomed in to the mountain top where I was actually visible, climbing up the final rise, and then east, across the lake, to a small parking area with only two cars in it. Mine was the battered, white VW Golf. "Who's is the other vehicle?"

It was a red Ford Granada. "I haven't a clue. I didn't see another soul all day." Cyto flipped to a different image from later in the day. The red car was gone but the white one remained. Then, another from dawn, the time I was going to arrive. "No-one there. Excellent."

We mulled over more details. "When are you going to get out of the Cruiser?"

I tapped my lectern, reviewing the work Garlidan and I had done on that question. "About an hour before dawn. I'll leave the cases, walk into the village..."

"How far is that?" Cyto pulled up the screen again. It was both a little irritating and very comforting to have someone who wouldn't let a single detail of this plan pass without scrutiny. Nothing could go wrong, I had insisted. No-one could see the cruiser. No-one could discover the cases. My own abduction must absolutely not be interfered with. I must not give the impression that anything out of the ordinary was going on.

"It is about two miles, which will take less than half an hour."

"Don't walk too fast and draw attention to yourself", Cyto warned. I smiled slightly. This was Snowdonia at 5.30 in the morning. I don't think I'll have to push through any crowds to get to the village. The only thing people drove down the road for was to climb the mountains or take photos.

I would eat breakfast at the local café, which opened early, and then walk back to the cases. Leaving the Cruiser any later than dawn would risk being seen. I would look odd enough as it was, in a black exposure suit, hauling three suitcases behind me.

I had a thought. "Why don't I just Relocate?"

Cyto gave me a look which bordered on contempt. "Does your planet have a Relocation infrastructure?" I shook my head. "I thought not. A thousand years after your arrival, perhaps. Not on Day One." I smiled, embarrassed, and we moved on to discussing the route back to my home. "Is it secure?"

"My house?" Cyto nodded, slightly wearily. "Sure. I mean, I've never been burgled, and it is well known as a safe area. There is a primary school down the road, and a police station half a mile away."

"It is your police I am primarily worried about." I explained how things worked, how no-one would search my house without good reason, and I'd have to be involved in a crime or something to even gain police attention.

I rubbed my eyes. "Enhanced learning capacity or not, I'd love a break", I said and looked at my watch. The meeting had lasted four hours and we had much more to discuss. "Mind if I grab a breath of fresh air?"

We broke up and I wandered around the facility. Perhaps for my benefit, or perhaps just for the aesthetic pleasure of it, this part of the planet was given a red-orange Martian sky. I marvelled for the hundredth time at their technology. Much of it was practical, functional -- like Relocation or Chrono-Travel or their ability to traffic huge quantities of information and analyse it in seconds -- but they hadn't skimped on the artistic side. I liked this contrast with Holdrian and its rather staid, stoical populace. Perhaps it was because they lived cheek-by-jowl with a jungle. Still, I thought, they lacked a certain style.

Bassar wandered onto the patio I had occupied, looking up with me at the fake sky. "It is impressive, no?" He was, to my utter amazement, smoking a cigar. "I saw one of your leaders smoke them, and thought I would try one." I laughed for at least a minute.

"All you need now are the bowler hat, the grim expression and the life-changing speeches." He did his best with the face and scowled, "This is not the end. This is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning." Not bad. I applauded enthusiastically and he bowed low.

"How are things going in there?" Bassar was so much more the relaxed of the two, the fun-lover, the joker.

"Long, complex, but useful. Cyto is a thorough man". I regretted the comment. Bassar would know Cyto better than anyone. "I mean, he's leading us well. We're getting it done."

Bassar smiled at my discomfort. "We were a great team. Still are. Our methods vary, but the quality of the results is the same. As you say on your planet, 'there is more than one way to skin a cat'."

The meeting resumed and we plunged into details. How I would begin the manufacturing process. How I would keep everything secret. My cover story, what I would say to friends and remaining family. The effects of leaving the Cruiser underwater for years (none, I was assured). And then target selection. Interception routes. Impact data. All were discussed. It began to come together.

The day before I was due to take part in the experiment, as they called it, I found myself with time on my hands. I had been working virtually flat-out for 36 hours, with only a short rest period in the middle, but I couldn't sleep now. Tomorrow I would do what no human had ever done. Given the monstrous complexity of the procedure, it might be millennia until anyone did it again. I felt as ready for such a challenge as I knew how to be.

I called up Bassar on my communicator. "Do you mind if I take off for a few hours? I'll be back before nightfall. I just need to get out of here for a bit, unwind. You know."

He checked with some colleagues and called me back to agree. The only proviso was that if I was late, the experiment would be cancelled and I'd have to wait several weeks for my next chance. His flexibility was something I was most grateful for, I said.

I Relocated back to my Cruiser's bay and got permission to leave. I had only five hours before I was due back. I quickly got underway, edging away from the station, and then as soon as it was safe, engaged the engines and accelerated to just under the speed of light within a minute. To push past this barrier would risk all the weird effects we had withstood on Daedalus and waste a lot of fuel. I would need the rest to get back quickly, depending on how long things took.

I decided to forgo any of Holdrian's elevators, not prepared to wait for a car to arrive, and took the Cruiser straight into the atmosphere. My navigation system discussed my entry route with the overall control system, and without my having to do much of anything, the Cruiser proceeded smoothly to the glider port just outside the city. I made a couple of calls during the descent, used the cabin to change out of my flight gear, combed my unruly hair and strapped in for landing. We rolled to a stop on the huge runway and I quickly taxied to a hanger, parked up and called a cab.

Twenty minutes later I was in Aldara's apartment. Most of our clothes had already been discarded, including her panties. My tongue was exploring her cunt while she sucked and licked my erection, which was just bursting with desire for her.

"I'm so happy... you've come back..." she managed to say between mouthfuls of my penis. I moaned something in reply, focussing on her pussy with its soft, suckable outer lips and juicy, delicious opening. She was doing lovely things to my cock, keeping a steady rhythm going with her hands while lavishing kisses and tongue-strokes on its tip. She was going to get a mouthful of sperm if she carried on like that.

I disengaged reluctantly but she made up for the loss of her oral skills by impaling herself on me immediately. I loved watching my cock disappear into her, and the pure pleasure on her face as she got used to my length and girth stretching her little pussy. Juices ran down my shaft and coated my balls as she reached her third orgasm of the afternoon, adding to those I'd given her with my mouth. She lifted her hands over her head as we made love, showing her amazing breasts with their hard, brown nipples.

Before I was ready to come, I switched things around. She knelt up for me and I slid into her cunt from behind while she masturbated fervently. Holding her hips, I gave her strokes which used my whole cock, drawing back my foreskin each time and exposing it to the warmth and suction of her pussy. I could feel her orgasm approaching and decided to join her. As her cunt muscles rippled and she opened her mouth to gasp in pleasure, I began to pour sperm into her. My climax pushed her along, higher and further, and she collapsed forward on the bed, releasing my cock, which was still pumping sperm from its tip. Hot splashes coated her buttocks and lower back. Then we lay together quietly, talking and kissing. The relief within my balls was tremendous.

"Are you ready to go?" she asked, towelling the sticky cum from her skin.

"I think so. The Vortex is functioning, my ship is OK. I guess I'm OK too. I'm going to miss so much that I've seen here."

She kissed me, cuddled with me on the bed. "I will miss you", she said. "I could fall in love with you, if we had more time together." I kissed her forehead. "I certainly love fucking you." I looked at my watch. There wasn't really time for more, I was sad to find.

"Baby, I have to go. I'm sorry. These scientist guys and their timetables..."

She nodded that she understood, but her disappointment was impossible to disguise. I dressed quickly while she watched from the bed, then headed to the door.

"Don't forget me. Don't forget us." We kissed tenderly and, with a smile I hoped conveyed everything I owed her, I left.

The journey back was fast and smooth, but I arrived only half an hour before Bassar's deadline. They were just starting to worry, he said. There was a dinner meeting to finalise details for tomorrow's work, and I was given the rest of the evening to myself. I spent it largely in the cruiser, checking systems and loading supplies into the storage racks. The three black suitcases hung in their spaces, sealed shut with elaborate combination locks. Water, hydrogen, oxygen and coolant levels were topped up and double-checked. The engines, I knew, were in beautiful condition. I ordered a purging of the fuel system to wash out any contaminants from today's trip and then re-pressurised it, ready for tomorrow. Food stores were taken on and I spent time with he ship's computer, checking everything once more and laying in tomorrow's course, before leaving for the night.

The station was quiet as I returned to my quarters. Perhaps people had been cleared out to avoid disturbing me. I sat on the bed in my quarters, letting my mind accept what I was doing. I thought about Falik, silently hoping that some way would exist to get me back. The wormholes, thus far at least, had been a one-way ticket. Upon emerging, I knew, there was no sign of where you had come from. You just showed up, like Relocating. I was in for a hell of a ride.

I managed to sleep for a few hours and my lectern woke me up three hours before departure time. I ordered breakfast from the replicators but barely touched it. A final sweep of the room and I sealed up my duffel once more and slung it over my shoulder. A deep breath, and I walked out into the station.

There were three technicians, alongside Bassar and Cyto, at the docking bay. My cruiser had been checked once more, I was told, and everything was working perfectly.

"Is there anything you need from us?" Bassar asked, extending his hand.

I had a lump in my throat. "You've given me everything already." I decided to forgo the handshake and simply hugged him. "Thank you."

Cyto helped the technicians with their final checks and we embraced briefly, slightly stiffly, before I entered the cabin through the airlock. I shook hands with each technician and walked forward to take my seat. The ship felt good. Out of the bubble canopy I could see the planet and its myriad satellites. A technology which was making possible the next chapter of my journey. I felt a pang of longing for all the beings I had known here, the amazing things I had seen. But it was time to go home.

The airlock swung shut and locked. I checked readouts one more time and then, precisely on schedule, uncoupled from the station and gently nudged the Cruiser away. I took a long look at the strange, metallic planet, glimmering in the starlight. It was beautiful, in a way I had come to comprehend only since being here. Technology, I had learned, need not always be functional. It could also be startlingly pretty.

The engines came to life as I throttled forward and the ship followed our course precisely, nosing up to bring us slightly higher than the orbital plain of the planet. The journey was about forty minutes in duration. I clicked on the auto-pilot and sat back, enjoying the acceleration as we hit 30-C, a reasonable cruise speed for this distance.

Thoughts crowded in, but I tried to focus on the job. Space was a restful thing to stare at. There were no distractions in its darkness, nothing to keep my brain from going over the plan yet again. My eyes swept readouts, pausing on each to take in the mass of information. The engines were flawless. Fuel systems were all go, efficiently channelling hydrogen to the reaction chamber behind me. It must have made quite a sight, the beautiful, silver Cruiser powering away from the metallic planet with its mass of ships and stations, trailing a thin line of blue, disappearing into history.

The ship began its steady deceleration as the Vortex approached. Right on time, the Chrono-Travel station initiated contact. They had been tracking me, of course, and up until now the computers had handled communications.

"Cruiser Phoenix, this is Chrono Control. How do you read?"

A throw-back to my own time, and a welcome one, although quite unnecessary in the circumstances. "Five by five, Control. Ready to initiate entry procedure."

The ship approached the station and flew by, allowing its sensors to pick up any problems. More fuel was available if necessary, but the engines had been most efficient and my tanks read 99.8% full. Besides, a refuelling stop would take time. I was ready to go now.

I looped round the station, and then turned to head into the Vortex. It was two minutes away and it already dominated the canopy windows. The centre of the Vortex, I could see, was brighter than the remainder, a pulsating mass of colours and lights. Yellow was the dominant colour, but there were flashes of every other colour I had ever seen. Lightning arced around the edges in huge, many-legged strands, illuminating the interior. Around the centre was a boiling mass of clouds.

A minute to go. "Proceed, Phoenix", was all they said. A final check of the instruments. Everything was fine. The flight plan called for a steady deceleration to ensure I entered the wormhole at a speed which wouldn't send me a light-year off course when I emerged. Fuel was precious, as was time. I throttled back to 12-C and centred the nose of the ship on the centre of the maelstrom. Seconds from entry, I said, "Thanks for everything." A short pause, then, "Let's GO!"

Brightness filled the cockpit and, it seemed, my whole body. The canopy glass struggled to compensate. I was in a world of whiteness, and then of a myriad colours. I was being pulled in, I knew, and felt the enormous, crushing gravity take hold of the ship, and of me, and haul us down, down towards the centre, further down, my stomach in my throat. I was falling off the edge of the cliff of the Universe, falling like a rock. We had become a tiny particle of sand in the hourglass. We were being crushed from all sides, compressed, reduced down to nothing, atomised. The pressure on my head, my chest, was intense, like at the bottom of the sea, sinking, down, down...