Mad World Bandby Danielle L. Parker |
Table of Contents Chapter 5 appears in this issue. |
| Chapter 6, part 1 |
Supper was a strained affair for both the Breckinridges. They arrived in time to find that Dorn had already warmed the meal that Lynn had prepared that morning and was calmly working on the salad and drinks. Sammy was excitedly buzzing around him in the small kitchen. She was trying to help, although right now, she reminded her mother of a tiny moth fluttering around an attractive light. But the cook did not seem to find her clumsy enthusiasm distressing, and under his straightforward direction, Sammy somehow managed to get the table set without breaking any glasses, at least tonight.
Thus without much more required than washing their hands, husband and wife found themselves at the table, with their large houseguest sitting between them as usual in the cramped confines of the eat-in kitchen. Lynn could not help a feeling of unreality as she passed a plate of rolls, and glancing up to meet her husband’s brown eyes, she knew he too felt the jolt of such prosaic behavior in the face of what they now suspected.
Somehow Lynn was certain their boarder was quite well aware of their own distraction. He did not, however, behave in any way different than usual; the evening would pass like any other, so it seemed, for all of them.
After supper Michael retreated into the living room with a scientific article that Lynn knew he was not at all interested in tonight; she herself cleaned up in the kitchen, and Dorn and Sammy spent a few hours outside in the cool dusk as they often did. Dorn had somehow obtained a few lengths of lightweight bamboo, and through the open door Lynn could hear his patient and gentle instruction in the fencing he was apparently trying to teach Sammy.
She shook her head as she listened: the detailed personnel records had not mentioned that particular hobby, and it was clear Dorn’s knowledge of the art was more than casual, but somehow she was not surprised.
At last, Sammy was persuaded to go to bed, and Lynn, closing the door to her daughter’s small room, saw that some variation in the usual routine was going to occur after all. Their houseguest usually went upstairs to his stuffy little attic room at this point, both, she supposed, to work on whatever task he had brought home and to give his hosts a little privacy in the cramped house. But tonight, he made no move to do so. Lynn, joining her husband in the living room, saw her husband set aside his paper and glance at her with a hint of strain in his expression.
“Dr. Breckinridge,” their guest said quietly. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to you and your wife in the kitchen.” The kitchen, as Lynn immediately thought, was as far away from Sammy’s room as they could get in the small house.
Lynn was proud of how her husband responded. Michael got to his feet calmly, although in their cramped living room, Dorn, standing close by, loomed over him by more than a foot. Somehow that broad young face, normally as guileless and friendly as a farm-boy’s, looked subtly different tonight. Lynn saw Michael glance almost involuntarily at the locked desk drawer that held the handgun they kept at home. It was as if they had a large and unpredictable animal inside the room with them, and Lynn was suddenly conscious that those strong shoulders and arms could probably break both of them in half without effort.
As if hearing their thoughts, their visitor walked to the desk. Somehow, the locked drawer slid open before his fingers even touched it, and he reached calmly inside. Without a word, he turned to hand Michael the small weapon he held.
“If you’ll feel more comfortable with that,” he said, “feel free to keep it. I don’t plan to harm either one of you. I’d rather you were relaxed while we talked.”
Michael was definitely white around the mouth. He said after a moment, “No, I... don’t think I will. I’d like to know how you got that locked drawer open without touching it, though. And how you knew what I was thinking.” He put the weapon back inside the drawer and closed it.
“Dear,” Lynn’s husband added, “remember to lock that again before Sammy gets up.” And Michael Breckinridge looked at their visitor squarely. “Yes, I think we would like to talk to you. Come into the kitchen, and perhaps,” he glanced soberly at his wife, “we can make a new pot of coffee.”
Lynn led the way into their small kitchen. She was glad to busy herself with the small tasks of making the coffee; she found, for all her grim determination, her hands were shaking slightly. The men sat down in their usual places, and after a moment she joined them. “A few minutes,” she said.
“Thank you, Mrs. Breckinridge.” The blue eyes studied her thoughtfully. It was the same cool evaluation she had met in the lab. “You made a discovery this evening,” he said at last, glancing at her husband in turn. “If you’re curious as to whether I have the same blood type as Martin, Dr. Breckinridge, I’ll save you the effort of scratching me with a nail. I don’t, as it happens, but you also won’t find it recognizable. Call it Type Y.” He smiled wryly.
“Well,” Michael Breckinridge said quietly, “You can understand that we are a little curious. I take it you are not Sinoasian, or,” he grimaced, “you would certainly not have handed me my own gun.”
“No, Dr. Breckinridge,” their guest said. “I am not Sinoasian, and I do not belong to the Western Alliance either. As your wife has guessed, my origins are extra-terrestrial... to your particular Earth, at least. The form of travel you are attempting to develop in this project is well known to us.”
Lynn said flatly, “And what exactly do you call yourselves, Mr. Predensky?”
“Just Dorn, actually,” he said. “I only have one name on Soltri. That’s the name of the alternate Earth I come from.” He paused. “Your research, however, has focused on true extra-terrestrial travel, and that’s why Martin and I are here. You are about to make a serious misstep. The world you call Demeter Five,” he hesitated, “is the home of a particular species of aliens who will destroy your world and perhaps many others if you open a passage to them. Your efforts to reach that particular planet have to stop.”
Lynn got up to serve the coffee. She was cold with what she supposed was shock. Michael, his brown eyes narrowed in thought, was still staring at the calm face of their visitor as she turned back to pour his drink.
“There’s certain evidence that makes me hesitate to dismiss you as insane,” he said at last. “This... alternate Earth... sounds like a madman’s fantasy, all the same.”
Dorn held out his hand. The saltshaker, sitting as usual in the center of the table, lifted in the air and floated gently to his palm. He closed his fingers around it and set it once more in its familiar place.
“We have certain powers you don’t,” he answered. “I can tell you that Martin and I both are of human... rootstock, I suppose I would call it, but I don’t know if you would exactly consider either of us homo sapiens anymore either. We’ve developed along a somewhat different path, partly through natural forces, and partly through genetic technologies. I can read your mind quite well, Dr. Breckinridge, and if you really have to have that proved again, I can.” He shook his head ruefully. “I think you would be wise to believe me, sir. There are other Earths, a great number of them; we have yet to discover any limits to our own exploration.”
Lynn reached for a paper napkin. She had spilled a little coffee in her saucer, from the slight tremble in her hands. “Then if you have this form of travel,” she countered in frustration, “perhaps you can help us. Our country is dying, you must be aware. It’s only a matter of time before the war reaches us.”
“Your world is dying,” the young man corrected. His face was expressionless. “Only a matter of years, perhaps five to ten, before it’s uninhabitable, by our own estimate. Yes, I understand exactly how you feel.
‘But I’m not sure we’re prepared to help you, either. We normally leave our sister Earths to decide their own fate. Only the fact that you are close to opening a passage to an alien species that have already destroyed one Earth forces us to be here.”
Michael flushed dark red. Since he had no hair, the effect was always interesting, but this time his wife did not smile. “If you won’t help us,” he said in sudden anger, “then you can get out of our way. Maybe we’ll take your word that Demeter Five is a bad risk, but it’s not the only Earth-type world we’ve spotted. There are others.”
He leaned across the table. “I need to save my wife,” he added more loudly than Lynn was sure he intended. “I need to save my daughter. Give me some options!”
There was a tiny silence. “Forty-seven percent of your world is still capable of supporting human life,” Dorn said. “You have billions of inhabitants, all of them engrossed in an insane war.” He looked at Michael Breckinridge with a cold expression. “Less than ten percent of our world can support life of any kind. There are only fifty thousand people left on Soltri. We couldn’t accept large numbers of refugees even if we wanted to. And if we did,” the blue eyes met theirs, suddenly hard, “being the kind of people you are at this point in your timeline, you would only bring your wars and dissensions with you. You’d likely destroy us, too.”
Copyright © 2006 by Danielle L. Parker
