This post is the first chapter of my first attempt at writing a science fiction book. If you are interested in reading more, let me know and I'll add more chapters. (larry.sydow@gmail.com)
PARALLEL MISSIONS
Larry L. Sydow - 2014
Chapter One
MISSION ONE
“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. Time to wake up. Approximately 5,000 miles from target location. We’ll be entering the earth’s gravitational field in a few minutes.”
The voice of the computer interrupted Derek’s brief nap in the weightlessness of space. The ship’s artificial gravity could have kept him grounded, but he found that he enjoyed the feeling of weightlessness for naps.
This was to be his first official solo mission in his own Parallel. While somewhat anxious, his anxiety gave way to automatic responses for which he had been trained. Like breathing, there were actions he would take, commands he would give without having to think them through.
In a short time gravity would start to claim his body again. Grasping the support that kept him from banging around while floating in the cabin, he replied, “Thanks, Bart. I could have used a little more sleep. Begin cloaking and prepare for landing. How much time until touch-down?”
“Ten minutes. Time to suit up and prepare power-packs. The color will be blue, the language will be Portugese, your name for this mission will be Mateus, and the level of danger will be 8.4.”
“Thanks for the info!” Mateus replied as he stripped off all of his street clothes and placed them in a storage compartment. As gravity began to pull him to the floor of the ship, he opened another storage compartment, withdrew a blue container, opened it and began to don his uniform. “The people at Parallel Command said it was urgent, but they were too busy getting me into the ship before the clock struck midnight and my chariot turned into a pumpkin! Can you fill me in on some of the details as I’m suiting up?”
“I believe you were joking about your chariot turning into a pumpkin. If the chariot is this ship, that would be quite an impossible feat,” Bart replied. “As for the briefing, Captain Horace Tomlinson was taken prisoner by a Brazilian terrorist group three weeks ago. They threatened to start cutting off parts of his body every day until their demands are met, keeping him alive until the last part to be severed is his head. In exactly three hour and fourteen minutes, the mutilations will begin. As you know, as goes this world, so will go Parallel. His child, still to be conceived, will be critical to the future development of a serum which will prevent a hyper virus infestation and world-wide pandemic, which in turn will prevent the birth of another child who will be instrumental in....”
“I get the point,” Mateus interrupted.
“I was merely answering your question.”
“I understand. I didn’t mean to insult you. I just don’t think I have time to hear the whole story. Please check my suit systems.”
“All systems are functioning at maximum capacity. You are good to go.”
Mateus snapped the last of the clips connecting his face mask to the rest of the system. The suit he put on included skin-tight body underwear. From the looks of it, it was a nice Spandex-like suit which contoured itself to every part of the body, almost like a second skin made of fine cloth. The only thing this suit didn’t cover was his head. The under suit was powered by paper-thin battery-like strips along the inside of each leg and along either side of the backbone. Each power strip contained enough power to light an entire city block for two to three weeks without recharging.
Both the outer and inner gloves were detachable. The controls for both the inner and outer suits were in the fingertips of the gloves of the inner suit. The thumbs of each hand activated the “triggers” found in the four digits on each hand. The pinky of the right hand, when touched by the thumb of that hand, caused the suit to seal itself from the buttocks, up the back to the neck. Applying the thumb of the left hand to the pinky of that hand, caused the sealing connectors of the under suit to deactivate so that the wearer was released in reverse order making it possible to remove the suit.
The other finger controls that were active were the index finger, which activated the deadly “reflecting” action of the under suit. When touched, it surrounded the wearer with a two foot bubble of protection and would cause whatever missile or object fired at the wearer to literally “return to sender” at twice the speed at which it was fired. The result would be lethal. With the gloves, hood and goggles of the outer suit on, the radius of protection increased to four feet. Everything and everyone within that bubble was safe from outside projectiles.
The right middle finger was responsible for “deflecting” objects from the body. It was used if the wearer did not want to injure the person firing the weapon. It was a safety switch against killing the very person they were sent to save, should that person gain access to a weapon, think the operator was the enemy, and fire on them. The right ring finger controlled the heat, raising it if it was too cold. The left ring finger, controlled the cooling, if things got too hot.
The index finger of the left hand activated a powerful light on the mask for illuminating a dark room; or with a second or third press of the thumb, would increase the intensity of the light and could temporarily blind the opponent. The left middle finger activated a microphone and speaker on the mask so that the operator could be clearly heard. It also activated the sound and video recording. The video cameras, microphones and speakers were located on the front of the mask and at the base of the neck where the mask attached to the outer suit. This provided a view of what was happening in front of and behind the person wearing it.
The underwear, the coveralls, the mask, and the gloves each carried its own power supply on various parts of the body. Each item could function independently, but was interfaced with the other parts, and could serve as backup in an emergency. The power packs on the outer suit were more than one hundred times as powerful as that contained in the underwear, since they powered internal life-support and filtration systems and increased the power and radius of the “Deflector/Reflector” unit.
The outer suit, made of even stronger and more powerful materials than the inner suit, looked very much like an ordinary pair of coveralls, except that it completely covered everything, except eyes, nose, mouth and hands. The eyes, nose, and mouth were covered by a mirrored glass-like mask made of an impenetrable substance. The mask was to be worn for all missions and was not removed until only team members were present.
Every part of the complete suit was the same color, and was color-coded for various missions, countries, and nations, so that the rescued, their captors, and any other observers would believe the person wearing them came from their own country or the country with which they associated.
Every coverall, no matter the color, had a circular emblem about two inches in diameter. Within a circle of laurel leaves were the words in Latin: “Vim enim parit vis – Pacem videlicet pacis“ (Violence begets Violence – Peace begets Peace”). Those words circled the earth as seen from space.
“Sixty seconds to touch down,” the computer announced.
Cloaked from radar and all outside watchers, the ship gently and noiselessly touched down.
“Give me a visual, please.”
The screen on the exit panel lit up with a view of the building in which Captain Horace Tomlinson was kept prisoner. It was a typical Brazilian box-shaped, two story house, painted an aging and peeling white. One guard, in his mid-twenties, wearing street clothes and a ball cap turned backward, sat in the dark shadows, on a stoop, outside the front door. His automatic weapon rested on his lap. The cigarette glowed in the dark as he inhaled, and the smoke he exhaled escaped the shadows into the faint moon light. There were no other lights to be seen, inside or outside of the house. The house itself was isolated by empty lots overgrown with weeds, brush, and trash. Neighboring houses were quiet and only dimly lighted. Their occupants were most likely deep into their two A.M. dreams, not even thinking of getting up to start their day.
Mateus did another systems check on his suit. Then touching his thumb to the index of his right hand to activate the “Reflector” system, the middle finger of his left hand to activate the audio, video, and recording functions on his mask, he began the mission to save Captain Tomlinson.
“The ship’s recorders are functioning and all systems are armed.” Bart reported.
“Drop the cloak, open the hatch, and maintain security,” Mateus commanded. “Allow only Captain Tomlinson and me to enter.”
The ship had landed unnoticed on the front lawn of the house, less than twenty feet from the door. When the ship uncloaked, the cigarette fell from between the guard’s lips, he stood up quickly in shock, almost dropping his gun. Mateus stepped onto the exit ramp and walked purposely toward the house, illuminated by light from the ship. The guard quickly raised his weapon, prepared to fire.
Speaking in fluent Portugese, Mateus warned, “I am unarmed and mean you no harm. However, do not fire your weapon at me or my ship. To do so will endanger your life. I have come to collect your prisoner and take him to safety.”
Before the words were all out of his mouth, he heard the guard’s automatic weapon fire several rapid shots. There was a brief moment of silence, the moan of the guard, the clatter of the weapon as he dropped it, and the thud of his body thrown back and slammed into the stoop on which he had been sitting. After hitting the wall, his body slid to the walkway. The sight of the guard was not pretty. Every bullet he fired came back to rip through him without mercy. “I think I need to work on my presentation a little. He obviously didn’t like it.”
The door was locked from the outside with three dead bolt locks and a steel bar padlocked to its bracket. As Mateus moved the guard’s lifeless body from the path between the door and his ship, the keys dangled from the dead man’s belt. Reaching down, Mateus extracted the key ring, unlocked the padlock, removed the bar, found the key for each of the deadbolts, and opened the door. The sensors in his mask informed him of the smell of a decaying human body, human excrement, human body odor, and infection which wafted out of the dark opening. “So thankful for the pure air this mask provides,” he mused to himself. “Those aromas would probably make me lose my stomach. Touching his thumb to the index finger of his left hand Mateus turned on his mask-light and scanned the interior. In the far corner lay a bloated decaying corpse, still bound hand and foot as if it were going to get up and try to escape. The room was devoid of any furnishings. There were three windows with steel bars, visible through tattered curtains.
The only other occupant lay on a thin filthy mat and was partially covered with a filthy, ragged looking blanket. On hearing the door open and seeing the light, the prisoner jerked at the chain attached to the wall and half turned to see what was happening. Weakly blinking his deep-set darkened eyes, he spoke as though he wanted to scream, but had no strength to do so. “Is this it? Are you going to start cutting me up? Cut off my damn leg first, will you? I can’t stand the pain!”
Mateus was impressed that he had strength to speak at all. It was obvious at first glance that he had been beaten multiple times. The blanket he had wrapped around his shoulders did not cover the gaping infected wound in his left thigh. The sight of it was enough to turn most peoples’ stomachs. Mateus took a deep breath, swallowed, and reminded himself of the mission he had to accomplish. Losing his stomach contents wouldn’t help anyone. The wound was badly infected. His captors had not bothered to wash or dress it, probably not wanting to waste time on it since the U.S. government didn’t negotiate with kidnappers. They would keep him alive, let the “Butcher of Sao Paulo” have his fun, and send the body parts one at a time just to make their point. Why bother fixing what the “Butcher” would just cut off anyway?!
“What’s going on down there?!” The Portugese voice came from a narrow stairway leading up to the second floor.
Switching to “Deflector” with his thumb and the middle finger of his right hand, and kneeling beside the Captain, Mateus spoke again in Portugese, announcing, “I am unarmed and mean you no harm. However, do not fire your weapon at me. To do so may be hazardous to your life.”
A man in a nightshirt appeared on the stairs with an old rifle. When his eyes saw Mateus his finger pulled the trigger and a bullet ricocheted off the shield Mateus had established. The bullet struck the wall an inch from the guard’s head.
“I am protected by a shield. Your bullets will not harm me or the Captain, but they could do great harm to you.”
Another bullet ricocheted, this time clipping the guard’s left shoulder.
“Please! Stop! You are only harming yourself! The guard outside the door did not listen to me. He is lying outside - dead by his own bullets. Put your weapon down! Now!”
The weapon slid to the floor as the guard grasped his bleeding shoulder and turned to beat a rapid retreat.
Before he could take the first step, Mateus spoke, “Tell your superiors that kidnaping will not be tolerated. Have them check the bullets in your friend to discover that what I told you is true. I have no weapons. The bullets that wound and kill are from your own weapons. Should your group continue its kidnaping, torture and killing spree, I will find your leaders and exact payment from them. Am I understood?”
Cringing, holding his wounded shoulder, and nodding his head, he raced up the stairs two at a time. A door slammed and a scraping sound gave proof that the guard was blocking the door and would not be causing any further trouble.
“Who are you?” the Captain moaned.
“My name is Mateus,” he answered in English, with a heavy Portugese accent. “Do not be afraid Captain. I have come to take you to safety. As long as you are with me, no one can harm you in any way.”
Searching the key ring he had taken from the guard to open the door, he found a key that fit the locks on the Captain’s swollen, red, chafed wrists and ankles. He released them, one by one. Carefully removing the tattered dirty blanket, Mateus threw it in the corner by the rotting corpse. “Do you know who the corpse was?” he asked the Captain.
“I have no idea. They told me that would be me if I gave them any trouble.”
Mateus steeled himself for a closer look at the body. There appeared to be dog-tags imbedded in the decaying flesh of the victim’s neck. Mateus removed them, went over to the blanket he had just discard, and wiped as much of the gore from them as he could. Reluctantly he returned to see what else there might be. In a vest pocket, he withdrew a picture of a family, supposedly the family that would be mourning the man’s death. Checking further, he noted that the man’s fingers had been removed, along with his ears and his right foot. With the camera in his mask sending images to the ship’s computer, he recorded as many of the details as he could in a short time. He knew he needed to move quickly before neighbors, kidnappers, or police came to investigate the shots that had been fired.
Returning to the Captain, who seemed to have passed out, Mateus gently reached under the captain’s legs, carefully avoiding his left thigh, to pick him up and carry him to the waiting ship. The Captain’s emaciated body made the task easier. His wounds and starvation diet over the past several weeks had taken their toll on his muscle mass and body weight.
As Mateus exited the door, he heard an engine roar to life in the distance and tires screaming on the asphalt street. It was time to make as much haste as possible before the “big guns” arrived. Walking carefully over the pool of blood left by the guard, Mateus pressed the thumb and index finger of his right hand to switch from “Deflector” to “Reflector”. These people would shoot before he could give them any kind of warning. The pickup truck, loaded with six heavily armed men, screeched to a stop as Mateus and his burden reached the ramp leading to the ship’s entry door. Before Mateus could turn to speak, multiple gun shots struck both his and the ship’s shields. Mateus stepped into the ship and laid the unconscious Captain on the rubber-like mat in a man-sized “tub” with six inch tall sides surrounding the mat.
When he stepped outside again, the sight that greeted him was sad and gruesome. The four men who fired at him lay in pools of their own blood. “Please do not fire your weapons!” he pleaded with the remaining two. “I have no weapons. Those who lay dead, died by their own bullets. Your bullets will not kill me, but they will kill you. Violence begets violence! Peace begets peace!”
Just then, the second floor guard emerged from the door of the house, took aim and fired. When his own bullet tore into him, it pushed him into the door frame. A look of shocked surprise crossed his face as he dropped his weapon, fell to his knees, and landed face down on the walkway.
The men from the pickup were as surprised as Mateus at the interruption. The one giving orders shouted, “We will see!” And see he did, as he fired, and his own bullets ripped through his chest. The remaining gunman seemed to be paralyzed with shock and fear for a few seconds, before he slowly laid down his gun and fell to his knees. Holding up his hands, he begged, “Please! For the sake of my family.... Please!”
“Look at me!” Mateus ordered. When the man failed to look up, Mateus shouted again, “Look at me!”
The terrified man slowly lifted his head to look at the one he was sure would kill him. Mateus quietly explained, almost sympathetically, “As you see, I am unarmed. I could not hurt you if I wanted to. Those who are dead died because they would not listen. Their own bullets killed them. Your life was spared because you did not fire your weapon. Had you done so, you too would be face down in a pool of your own blood. I want you to pass on a message to your superiors. Will you do that?”
The response was instant. Nodding his head vigorously he replied, “Yes! Before God, I promise!”
Mateus spoke in simple terms so the message would be clear, “Describe to your bosses what you have seen and heard this night. Tell them everything. My name is Mateus. I am one of many who are commissioned to put a stop to kidnaping and violence. Violence begets violence and peace begets peace! Those who continue on this violent path are given this one warning. Their leaders will answer to me, and the cost will be very high.”
Mateus then drew a copy of his message from his pocket, walked over to the still shaking man, and handed it to him. It read:
“Kidnaping, torture, and terrorism against any of the Creator’s sons or daughters, even infidels, are opposed to the Creator’s will and commands. They will not be tolerated. We came in peace, unarmed, to rescue one of the Creator’s own. The bullets that wound and kill are your own. Violence begets violence. Peace begets peace!”
He then told the man, “If you do not change occupations, you will not live long. If you walk the way of peace, you will find your reward.”
Mateus returned to his ship. Before closing the entry door, he turned for one last look at the message-bearer. The man seemed to have fainted dead away, grasping the message as if it were a life-line.
“Close the hatch. Do a systems check. Cloak the ship, ascend to 50,000 feet, and hold position.”
“All systems are go!” Bart announced. “As for Captain Tomlinson, my sensors indicate serious and life-threatening conditions need to be dealt with ASAP. Shall I contact Parallel Command to inform them of our situation?”
“Yes, thank you,” Mateus replied as he deactivated the controls and removed his gloves. He would keep the rest of his uniform on and would not remove it until the Captain was no longer with them. He would also continue to be Mateus for that period of time.
To both captives and captors, Mateus had been a Portugese speaking stranger dressed head to toe in blue, who also spoke broken English, had use of advanced technology, and was no one to mess with. This was the persona designed by Parallel scientists who had recruited him. The microscopic chip they had inserted near his hypothalmus made it possible for him to learn and retain almost three dozen languages, allowing him to read, write, and speak each language as if he had grown up with the it.
The moan from the Captain brought Mateus back to the business at hand. His face mask had informed him that the odors from the Captain’s body and the infection in his leg wound were pretty strong. The filtration system of his mask was helping immensely. The first order of business was to clean the Captain up. Any movement of his left leg sent the semi-conscious soldier into spasms of pain. There was only one thing he could do to get him out of his filthy clothes without undue suffering. Mateus knelt and lightly touched the fingertips of both hands. He concentrated on his fingertips as he had been taught, centering the energy he wanted to pass on. When satisfied that the balance was right, Mateus placed his right hand on the Captain’s forehead, and using his left hand to cradle his head, Mateus closed his eyes and concentrated again, this time on the thought of painless sleep. Within second, his patient relaxed and fell peacefully, painlessly, and blissfully into a deep, restful sleep.
With care not to cause further injury, Mateus began removing what was left of the Captain’s tattered uniform. The clothes, except for his boots, were all placed in a mesh-like bag. The bag was then dropped into a chute, where its contents would be thoroughly washed and sterilized.
Mateus placed the dog tags from the dead man into another bag with the piece of blanket in which he had wrapped them after wiping off most of the gore. This bag would ride with the Captain and his clothes into Parallel.
The Captain looked to be between twenty and thirty. He was covered with welts, bruises, numerous superficial knife wounds, and had badly bruised and swollen testicles the size of large oranges. He also had an ugly looking, badly infected wound to his left thigh. Mateus could only imagine the cause of many of the wounds.
Mateus then filled the “tub” with warm water from the ship’s storage tanks. The process of bathing the sleeping Captain took three changes of water. Each change involved the addition of different solutions which cleansed and rejuvenated damaged tissue. The water from each change was recycled and distilled to avoid waste.
Mateus drained the last of the water from the tub using a vacuum tube. Once that was done, he deflated the walls of the “tub” and dried his patient. He then placed four circular sensors on the Captain’s back, four more on his chest, and two each on his wrists. He then wrapped him in fresh, warm towels.
“Vital signs are dangerously weak,” Bart reported.
“Thank you, Bart,” Mateus had cleaned the wounded thigh, but it still oozed a smelly puss. He had enough medical training to know he needed help with that wound. In addition, the Captains testicles, most likely swollen from repeated kicks to his groin would need professional care or the Captain would never father the child his wife was to have. “His wounds are far more extensive than I can handle by myself.”
By the time the thigh was dressed with minimal dressings, the contents of the mesh bags were ready to be transported with the Captain. Mateus placed them between the Captain’s legs and covered them and his patient with large towels for the trip.
“Blood pressure and heart rate are reaching critical levels,” Bart reported. “I recommend immediate action to save his life.”
“Bart,” he commanded, “take us to the nearest Port of Entry as quickly as possible.”
Mateus felt the acceleration and change in direction as the last word left his mouth. In a matter of thirty seconds, Bart announced, “Approaching the Port of Entry. Docking will be complete in sixty seconds.”
A minute later, Mateus felt the connection and prepared to transfer the Captain to the Parallel Port where he would receive the treatments he needed. He had been there himself once and knew the Captain would be well cared for. Parallel was medically and scientifically several hundred years advanced over his own world. The Captain would be gone a couple of hours, Mateus’s time, but most likely a year or more in the world to which he was to be transferred. Chronologically he would age by that time period, but physically he would be healed and rejuvenated so that when he returned, he would look and feel better than he had on his eighteenth birthday.
“Pressure equalization complete,” Bart reported. “The hatch will open in fifteen seconds.”
Fifteen seconds later, the hatch opened. Mateus gently slid the mat on which the Captain slept through the dark opening where he seemed to be absorbed into the Portal opening. As Mateus stepped back, the hatch closed with a quiet click. Now he would wait for the Captain’s return.
