Loisa Makenzie grunted almost inaudibly as she hoisted the two sacks of groceries into the open trunk of her car.
Loisa then closed the trunk lid, and sank into the driver's seat of her car, wincing slightly as she rubbed her cold, arthritic hands together.
The car, a 1984 Chevrolet Celebrity, started the first try, to her delight. She slipped the machine into gear and headed towards her home.
Loisa, or Lissy as she was affectionately referred to by her friends and family (although they had to add the complementary Auntie as the case allowed), was a rather spirited individual. She had led the life she had dreamed about as a little girl, teaching in public schools almost all of her adult life. Lissy sometimes had wondered about her dream in the last decade of her career, as the youth she taught seemed to grow more and more troubled by the month. However, she did feel as though she had had the opportunity to...make an impact in some students' lives, perhaps show them their true potential at a time where many influences were trying to show children that they had very little potential indeed.
The Celebrity turned the corner onto Horatio Drive, and Lissy directed the vehicle into the driveway of her house. She took one look into the mirror to straighten her hair, which was still quite dark, with an austere amount of silver stirred in.
Lissy smiled at being home after a rather annoying day out shopping. The people at the supermarket had been pushy and obnoxious, all of them in too much of a hurry to act like decent human beings.
The retired schoolteacher pulled herself out of her car, and made her way backwards of the machine in order to open the trunk. To Lissy's surprise, a pretty young girl, no more than 15, stood there smiling at her.
The girl cocked her head, and touched Lissy's elbow. "May I help you with your shopping, Miss Makenzie?", the girl asked, beaming warmth at the older female.
Lissy smiled back. "Of course, my dear..?" Lissy replied, prompting for the girl's name.
The girl frowned for a brief moment, and then lied, saying "Susan, Makenzie..Susan..."
The older woman raised an eyebrow in the strange change of attitude, but then thought herself to be imagining things as "Susan" picked up the two plastic bags and walked them to Lissy's front door.
The front door of Lissy's home, a rather grand looking oak door, creaked open after having been unlocked and pushed.
Susan and Lissy walked in, and Susan took the groceries to the kitchen. Lissy was surprised that Susan knew automatically where it was, but again dismissed the strange feeling about the young girl that she was having. After all, it wasn't an unusual place for a kitchen to be located.. Pretty standard, really.
Susan came back to the living room where Lissy was placing her coat into a closet by the front door. "Miss Makenzie," the teenager started, "how is it?"
Lissy frowned at the girl. "How is what?" she replied.
The girl cocked her head again. "To grow old....to steadily lose control of one's faculties until one begins to feel dried up..."
"Well, I never!" Lissy exclaimed, taken aback by the sudden rudeness of the girl.
Susan only smiled in response, and continued, "Dried up, useless; in fact, a waste to society that only saps energy and..."
In 30 years of teaching, Lissy had very seldom ever taken a hand or a ruler to a student as a means of discipline; however, she raised her hand to the young girl as almost a reflex towards the verbal assault that was occurring.
Lissy only intended a light tap on the girl's cheek in order to stop the continuing verbal barrage that spilled from the teenager's mouth. Lissy's hand, however, erupted violently in pain, and Lissy sank backwards, crying.
The girl pressed forward, and narrowed her eyes. "That was definitely a mistake, Loisa Ann Makenzie; and as you might imagine, I feel that a mistake such as this needs to be corrected."
Lissy barely managed to get out a few words between the tears and the shooting pains in her hand. "What is happening?"
"Happening?" the girl sneered. "What is happening here is that I am going to remove a waste product of our society, a heartache of an overtaxed system."
The kind old teacher screamed in agony as pain enveloped her entire body. The pain itself was unlike any pain Lissy had ever experienced before....it was a fire and a pressure that seemed to be in every cell of her body simultaneously. Lissy clutched herself about the chest and collapsed onto the floor, and then took her last breaths.
A young male, about the same age as the girl, tapped her on the shoulder. "Karain," he said, "I thin you enjoyed that a bit too much."
Karain didn't answer immediately, as a look of pure ecstasy covered her visage due to Lissy's passing. The teenage girl then turned to the male. "What do you mean, too much, David? You know that there's no such thing!"
David chuckled. "Of course you're right, Karain... It was yet another bad attempt of mine at humor."
Karain rolled her eyes and smiled. "Sometimes, David, I'd like to do to you what I did to her, you and your corny sense of humor."
David laughed out loud. "But that wouldn't work so well on me as it did on her, with both of us being telepaths and all."
Karain nodded. "Yes... too true, too true. Oh, and by the way, you owe me."
David feigned ignorance. "Owe you? Owe you what.. sincere flattery?"
Karain rolled her eyes again. "No, you owe me five dollars for losing the bet."
David laughed and pulled out his wallet. "Of course..." He handed a five dollar bill to Karain. "It's just that I felt sure that the old geezer was going to have a stroke with her low risk of heart problems."
"Ah, a seemingly logical argument, my dear David," Karain replied. "However, just remember that you haven't been doing this as long as I have. It's not just the health that matters, you know... this old timer hadn't really ever had any period of overexcitement in her life. Stress from teaching, yes; but you should have been clued in from the mind probe we did on her at the store... she could handle her stress rather well, and thus I surmised that she had never had any real strain on her heart."
Karain concentrated for a brief moment, and an apple appeared in her hand. "In any case, David, just keep watching me, and I'll show you how to read the regular nontelepathic humans the correct way before too long."
Karain used her foot to roll Loisa's body onto her back. "My dear teacher, would you care for an apple?" she asked.
Karain took a bite out of the fruit, and threw it against Loisa's face.
The two teens then mentally focused on their destination, activated their telepathic boosting devices, and disappeared from the house with only a ripple of air left in their wake....
The bicycle moved down the hill at an ever-increasing rate. The young boy enjoyed the respite from the pedaling which had delivered him to the top of the hill, while feeling the endorphin rush from speeding downwards.
Benji Granger let out a loud, excited howl as he approached the bottom of the hill. The terrain finally leveled out, and Benji's bike slowed. The youngster placed his feet reluctantly back on the pedals, and began exerting force on them.
A sharp jabbing pain poked the back of Benji's skull. He faltered and fell off of the bicycle, flesh tearing slightly as he landed on the concrete pavement, on his elbows and forearms.
Benji cried out, and looked around. He was confused... there was no one is sight who could have caused the pain in his head, but there it was...
As the boy cringed on the pavement, he heard a voice, like a whisper, speaking. "Do not be afraid," the voice said.
Granger's heart skipped, and despite his pain, he leapt to his feet. The voice continued. "Don't be afraid, please...I'm a friend.."
"Where are you?" Granger replied audibly and otherwise.
"I am close by..."
"How can I hear you? I don't see anyone anywhere close!"
"Because," the friendly British voice said. "You are not hearing me through your ears, but through your mind..."
The pain grew slightly, and Benji cradled his head in his hands. "What is wrong with me? Am I going mad?" he thought.
"No, of course not... please don't be frightened."
"People just don't go around hearing voices."
"Benji, don't be frightened... you're not going insane at all. You're only experiencing a transformation, a biological process that will help you shed your inferior chrysalis to burst forth into the light .."
The pain lessened as the contact with the mind he could hear grew stronger. "And you are... are.. your name is." Benji strained to try and grasp the name of the person talking to him.
"My name is Elizabeth. Hold on just a second, and I'll be right there."
Seemingly from nowhere, a woman appeared, tall and picturesque.
Benji jumped back. "How, how.." he sputtered.
The woman stepped forward. "Don't be frightened... I'm here because I teleported here. It's one of the things that you will learn how to do, one of the things that goes along with you being able to talk with your mind."
The woman smiled at Benji, and put her hand forward. "Now, take my hand, and I'll take you somewhere where I can explain what is happening to you."
Benji looked at her hand, and then up at her. He swallowed once, and placed his shaking hand into hers. The odd looking couple that was holding hands then ceased to be standing on the roadside in Texas.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Bryan stood in his shower, letting the hot water run undaunted down his mostly hairless skull and his body.
He had not been able to get back to sleep after the dreams, and had thus decided to catch up with the lecture that he was preparing for Monday's class.
He worked and typed for an hour, before his feelings of grunginess caused him to seek soap and water. He felt himself dozing off, and didn't really mind the situation. His conscious mind drifted towards darkness, until the whisper of a yell entered it.
Bryan took a sharp breath, and pulled back the curtain of the shower slightly as not to pour water onto the floor. He saw absolutely no one.
Cawston chuckled to himself as he turned the taps off and reached for a towel.
Benji lost all sense of reality as he dematerialized... his mind felt torn, his body feeling inside-out. He knew that before the disorientation, he had been holding on to Elizabeth's hand, but could no longer feel himself attached to either her hand or his own.
The greens and yellows of the terrain from which he had left suddenly shifted themselves into the silver of metal, as he realized he was whole again.
He looked incredulously over at Elizabeth, who smiled and gently pried his fingers from her hand. "There, now that wasn't so bad, was it?" she asked.
Benji was speechless, not being able to think of a single thing to say in return to her.
Elizabeth lead Benji off of the teleportation pad, and sat him down on a plush seat. "You stay here, Benji, and I'll go fetch us something to drink," Elizabeth said, and wandered off.
Benji allowed his head to rest on the back of the chair, and looked up at the lights on the ceiling.
Benji soon heard the clattering of feet as Elizabeth returned, water in hand for the both of them. The boy took his water, and slurped it thirstily. "Thank you," he mumbled through gulps of cool wetness.
Elizabeth sipped some of her water, and then placed her hand on Benji's knee. "I think it is time you are given an explanation for all of this."
Benji nodded his head slowly, his eyes intent on the woman.
"All right... here goes. You and I are what could be considered the next step in humankind."
"Next step of what?" Benji returned, querulously.
"Of evolution," Elizabeth offered. "You see, we humans haven't always been humans... before us came many different types of ape-like creatures, such as Homo Erectus (who lived with us for some time).. and Homo Sapiens."
Benji frowned. "Homo Sapiens? I'm not the smartest person, but I know that that's what we humans are... Homo Sapiens."
Elizabeth smiled condenscendingly. "To most of the world, yes, the species Homo Sapiens does apply... but not to us."
Benji got out of his chair slowly, attempting to move away from the eccentric female. From nowhere, he felt a push into his chair, as though by a gentle hand.
"There, you see?" Elizabeth smirked. "Homo Sapiens cannot do things like that."
"Like what?" Benji countered.
"Like what I just did... pushing you back into your chair with only the power of my mind. Or how we got here... by teleportation."
Benji chortled. "You're being silly... for all I now, you injected me with some drug and drove me here."
Elizabeth paused for a moment. "Very well, then... I'll just have to show you." She closed her eyes.
Benji felt himself shaking, as though by magic... and then he began to rise into the air.
Elizabeth opened her eyes, and continued to hold Benji somewhat suspended three feet from the chair.
Benji began gasping. "Oh my god......"
Elizabeth's mouth turned it's corners into a small grin. She placed Benji back in his seat.
"Well, Mr. Granger," she said. "Are you ready to hear more about what you and I are?"
Benji nodded his agreement, his lips sealed tightly shut.
Elizabeth cleared her throat and continued her earlier statement. "You and I are one of the people on this planet who are representing the next stage of human evolution.. the stage which someone once rather haughtily referred to as Homo Superior."
Elizabeth allowed Benji some time to digest the information. She then began to speak.
"As you learn, I and the others will teach you about our four primary talents... what we call the four T's... Telepathy, telekinesis, teleportation, and transmuting."
Benji looked at her once more. A large smile was n his face. "So, Elizabeth, when can we begin?"
The woman felt satisfied. "How about a good lunch, and we'll begin today, all right?"
Benji agreed.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
The ground beneath the old man's feet was exceedingly hard and cold. He grunted as his handplow fought the frozen earth in order to become embedded in it. Neither the handplow nor the earth wanted to comply with the old man, however, so he soon let the plow drop to the ground, and wiped off the sweat that he was surprised to find on his forehead.
The man thought to himself sarcastically about having known better, especially about trying to plow before the sun even rose in the sky.
The man chuckled silently. He knew his reasons for being out in the frozen darkness... because it had been at this time of the day those years ago that a fellow migrant worked had been... taken.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Elizabeth materialized in an open grass field, slightly out of breath. There he was, two hundred feet in front of her. She laughed as she teleported to within three feet of him.
Benji poked her in the arm. "You're awfully slow for having done this for a while, aren't you?" he cajoled.
Elizabeth poked him back in his chest. "Well, Benji, you're just a little stronger than I had originally though." (Damn), she thought to herself, (He's much stronger than I or the others had figured. Hell, I even fed him lunch, thinking that the energy his body used for digestion would weaken him somewhat. He may be the strongest telepath to break out so far.)
An apparent shadow passed over Elizabeth's visage.
Benji stare at her. "What's wrong, Elizabeth?"
"Oh, nothing," she replied, semi-forcing a smile back onto her features.
Benji sensed nothing wrong, and began grinning again.
"Well, then," Elizabeth continued. "You're apparently having no problems with our three basic talents.."
Benji raised an eyebrow. "I thought that you said there were four?"
"There are," she answered. "The fourth one, though, is by far more challenging than the other."
Benji put his hands to his hips, and awaited her explanation.
Elizabeth swallowed, hard, and began her self-prepared speech. "Transmutation is an ability where we temporarily change our molecular structure to allow ourselves to pass through objects or allow object to pass through us."
Benji wrinkled his brow. "How is this done? Is it like teleporting?"
Elizabeth slowly nodded her agreement. "Yes... it's like beginning the dematerialization process, but jut enough to where you have not much substance."
Benji raised both his eyebrows. "Oh, okay.. that makes sense. It doesn't sound too difficult."
Elizabeth scanned him slowly with her eyes. "Oh, but for some of us, it is..." She chewed her lip briefly.
"However, for you, I'm sure it will come right away... But in any case, allow me to demonstrate. Follow me."
The image had been blurry and out of focus at first. Soon, however, it started to coalesce, as Cawston came around for the first time after the fire, seeing the concerned face of Elizabeth and an unknown woman watching him.
"Where, where am I?" he spoke, his voice cracking from dryness.
Elizabeth handed him a glass of water. "You're on the Trig, Professor Cawston.. You've been seriously ill for over two weeks."
Bryan looked at her. "Two weeks? I'm on the Trig?"
Elizabeth smiled, and ran the backside of her hand against Bryan's face.. "The burns from the fire were quite severe. Our healers had to take many sessions healing you... and you've been unconscious and healed for two days now. We had to bring you to the Trig with us... if not, you'd have died.
Bryan noisily slurped his water. He nodded, digesting what he had been told.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Cawston's recovery after regaining consciousness had been quite rapid. After another day in bed, he took to wandering the halls of the structure in which he was housed.
Although it definitely had the feel of a hospital, it had none of the physical manifestations of one that he was used to.
Cawston stood in one corridor, looking down at the occasionally person who crossed his field of vision. The walls were translucent in appearance, although he couldn't see the outlines of anyone behind the walls.
After several hours on his first venture, Bryan walked back to his room and sat on his bed.
Before too long, the door to his room slid open, and John and Stephen walked in.
"Professor Cawston," John said. "We've heard that you recently rejoined the ranks of the living."
Bryan smiled weakly. "Yes, so I understand as well."
John looked at the human scientist. "Is there anything you need, Doctor?"
Bryan held his abdomen slightly. "To be honest, I'm starving, John."
John smiled. "So you should be." The telepath stood and walked over to a circular lighted table, and held his hand on it.
"What would you like, Dr. Cawston?"
Bryan thought to himself momentarily. "How about a good cup of soup? Maybe something in a vegetable?"
Stephen chuckled quietly to himself, and John grinned. "Anything you want, Dr. Cawston, we can have made for you... anything at all."
Bryan smiled back. "Well, the first thing I want.... is for you to call me by my first name. I think we've all been through enough together to warrant it."
Stephen and John looked at each other, and then at Dr. Cawston. "Um, I suppose you're right, Doc... Bryan." John said.
"Okay." Bryan straightened himself on the bed. "I'd love to have a good minestrone, with a small Yorkshire pudding on the side."
John nodded. The table John was leaning on glowed brightly from within, and Cawston's requested meal appeared.
John took the food to a table in Bryan's room, and motioned for Cawston to come to the table.
Bryan stood, and walked to the table, sitting. He picked up the spoon that was provided to him, and began to dig into the stew. He looked at John, and then glanced to Stephen. "Would you care to join me?" he asked.
"No, thank you," John said, and Stephen nodded in agreement. "We ate just a short while ago."
"Well, then," Bryan spoke. "How about you two telling me what has happened since I've been unconscious?"
John proceeded to speak with Bryan, and explained what was about to happen with the telepathic task force.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
The day had been long, and the work hard as usual... but it had finally come to an end. Paul and his group now sat around a camp fire, somewhat basked in the glow of the burning wood.
The group talked about various things, laughed about stories from the past, and gradually retired to various flimsy shacks to sleep for the night.
At last, only Paul and his brother sat there, staring at the fire that was beginning to wane. Paul frowned, and then looked up at Mario, having decided to tell him the thing that had been held inside for over a decade.
"Mario," Paul began. "Have I ever explained just why it is I often go out in the early morning?"
"I'm not certain," Mario replied, "but I do think it has something to do with the old white man who lived here when I was a boy."
Paul nodded slowly. "You are right.. it has to do with the old man and how he left."
Mario looked at his brother. "How did he? How did he leave?"
Paul inflated his cheeks with air, and then let them deflate. "It's a strange, short story, and I hope you'll take me seriously."
"Why would I not?" Mario replied.
Paul looked into his hands. "I know what the others here say about me these days... about how I am going mad."
Mario shook his head. "No, they think you're a little strange, but that you're a stable, hard worker. You're as close to a leader as any person here. I think they are willing to accept your quirks after your lifetime of work... of hard work."
Paul displayed a small smile. "Thanks, Mario... I needed to hear that. Now' there's something I'd like you to hear. About the old man."
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Being a scientist, Bryan Cawston had enjoyed learning all that there was to learn on the Trig. It was difficult sometimes, though... he was not telepathic, and it was obvious that some of the Federation scientists he conversed with were either annoyed or having a hard time conversing with their vocal chords. Bryan began to spend his days between soaking up as much information as he could, and visiting with his Tomorrow People.
After three months of this daily routine, Bryan began returning to his quarters at night in a depressed state. He was beginning to feel alone, as he imagined a mentally handicapped person might feel amongst a group of people who were normal humans and were frustrated by the slowness of such a person.
Then, one night, Bryan had finally had enough. He was dining with John, Stephen, Jeff, and Timon. Bryan ate slowly, watching the telepaths communicating nonverbally. At one point in the meal, seeing that the telepaths had apparently having a great conversation, of which they only let the Sapiens in on every once in awhile, he put his fork down with a loud clatter. The other diners, for the most part, looked up at him as he pushed his chair out and walked back to his cabin.
Bryan was sitting in his chair, facing the austere landscape of the planet, Yenestes V, that he was in low orbit around.
Elizabeth and John appeared to his right side, and Elizabeth kneeled by the right armrest of his chair. "Bryan," she said. "What's wrong? What is it that's bothering you?"
Bryan pursed his lips and swallowed as he summoned the correct words in his mind. "All right, you two, all right... I'll tell you."
The doctor waved his hand palm upwards, motioning for John and Elizabeth to have a seat. "Now, let me preface what I need to say by telling you what a wonderful storehouse of knowledge it is that I've had access to since I've been here. I now know things that human scientist may not have uncovered by normal means for at least another couple of hundred years. Be that as it may, the Trig, with all of its splendors and scientific knowledge, is..."
John interrupted. "It is not home."
Bryan nodded. "Yes, that's it. That's it, exactly."
John looked down at the floor briefly, and then back at the doctor. "I know how difficult this must be for you, a non-telepathic person among people who have been that way all of their lives.
"However, you know why were are here. The Saps... I mean, the humans we left behind on Earth, tried to kill us and our supporters-- and very nearly succeeded in your case."
Bryan sighed. "I know you're right in that aspect, John; regardless, I do not feel like I have any place here on the Trig."
John sat silent for a few moments, and Elizabeth took over. "Bryan," she said, "What can we do to help you?
Fen Dacker was an old-style Aloissian space pilot. He loved the feel of his ship as it banked and curved through space.
Fen only ever activated the autopilot on his ship when he was sleeping. He looked down on the members of his race who would have the autopilot on for hours at a time as they stuffed their faces and engaged in trivial pursuits such as reading and the like.
Currently, Fen was having a grand time flying his ship around an ice planet with a few thin rings around it. He was slowly making his way through all of the planets and moons in this system, circling them in this manner.
Fen had been on a trading expedition, but had finished far in advance of his scheduled time and so decided to stunt-fly through various solar systems.
Dacker yawned. The trip had been tiresome, having to deal with species that didn't seem to understand the first thing about commerce. "Oh, well," he thought. "That's why people like me are out here... to educate, emulsify and expedite."
Fen's four eyelids drooped for a moment, but he paid them no mind. He felt confident that he could at least make his way throughout the rest of the planets in the system before putting the ship back on its course towards home and getting some sleep.
Fen pulled the ship around celestial body after celestial body, playing with the feel of each body's gravitational pull tugging on his ship. He laughed aloud, pushing his ship close in and then back out again.
The Aloissian neared his next planet, and once more pressed the controls of the ship to launch the ship forward. The planet grew large in his front window, a great wash of blue.
"Hmmm.." Dacker said aloud. "An ocean world... perfect for large beaches, underwater creatures, and..." Dacker's mouth opened, and he yawned.
The ship lurched violently. Fen snapped up, fighting the control panel which didn't seem to respond.
"Oh, ch'nel!" he cried out in a curse of his native tongue.
Fen activated a viewer, and saw the cause of his problems... a large floating piece of metal debris which he had not noticed with his eyes briefly closed.
As much as Dacker fought and fought the ships, the engines had stalled at the impact and subsequent lurching. The planet loomed larger and larger in the window.... the ship was going down.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Paul sipped from the flask that he and Mario were sharing, filled with a homemade wine from McNair's finest chardonnay grapes.
"Well, Mario, here goes. If you knew anything about Blanco, you knew that he liked to tell stories. Grand stories about mysteries and super men."
Mario snickered. "Probably why we called him loco at the time."
Paul smiled. "Yes. The thing is... he wasn't completely wrong."
Paul took another draught of the wine, and then cleared his throat. "About ten, fifteen years ago, I forget exactly... he was out early in the morning, talking to himself and the trees and the sky. I was awoken by his ramblings, so I came out to ask him if anything was wrong.
"As I was getting close to where he was at, a bright, bright light appeared in the sky."
Mario looked at his older brother. "A plane?"
Paul squinted into the glowing embers of the fire. "No. Well, maybe a plane. This light grew closer, and closer, coming towards us at an angle... and crashed several hundred feet from where Blanco was standing. A door or something opened on the plane, and the last thing that I expected to happen happened... the old.."
A honking could be heard in the distance, and people started coming out of their shacks. The workers looked off into the distance, and the first person who realized who it was shouted, "McNair! McNair!"
Paul and Mario scrambled to their feet, hiding the wine flask.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
"I am sorry, Professor Cawston, but it simply cannot be! We cannot allow you or anyone to travel to Earth, especially considering the circumstances in which you had to be evacuated."
Cawston paced the meeting room of the Galactic Council angrily. "That's not fair. The same circumstances do not exist now that existed then... if the task force has done it's job properly, no records and very few memories should remain of the Tomorrow People on Earth!"
President Ular glared at the human. "Regardless of that fact, Doctor, we cannot allow anyone to travel back to Earth and jeopardize the chances of telepathic life developing in the future, when the Homo Sapiens are ready to accept it."
Cawston exhaled loudly. "You cannot keep me here as a prisoner on the Trig. If we all are as civilized as you say, we should not be keeping prisoners! I insist that I be able to return to Earth. All I want to do is stay there and lead a normal, low-key life as a scientist."
Ular banged his gavel down on the table. "You must realize that we have destroyed all records of your existence. It would probably be far harder to make a new record of one person than to destroy his old one."
"Laziness," Bryan declared. "You concede that it is possible." Cawston then stopped pacing, standing directly in front of the President.
Ular sighed. "Yes, it is possible, though highly unrecommended and dangerous!"
Cawston clasped his hands in front of him. "I have to go back. I have no place here as a telepath. Please."
Ular motioned to his aides. "We are going to recess now, Dr. Cawston. Our deliberation on the subject will take some time. I request that you be patient."
Bryan nodded. "Certainly, your excellency." The human then proceeded to join John, Elizabeth, and Evergreen, who were in the gallery.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Fen worked furiously at the controls of his starship in order to get it to stop banking out of control.
The ship was now in the upper atmosphere, the outer hull of it heating. The ship was developed to do such a thing, however, and Fen was not overly concerned by that.
What he was concerned with, though, was avoiding a hard crash into the ground, which his starship was not developed for.
It took some time, but Dacker managed to bring some secondary engine systems on line... He began to level the ship's descent, giving himself a chance for survival upon landing.
The ship was growing close to the ground now, having crossed the large ocean that Fen had first noticed upon entering the atmosphere. The ship grew closer and closer, creating a loud air disturbance in its wake. The ground filled the front portal, as did trees, getting nearer, and then...
The ship skipped slightly, Dacker's nimble hands on the control panels, but managed to land without too much force.
Fen sighed with relief. He looked at the controls, and diagnostic readouts, seeing that the ship was more or less intact. There was a breach or two in the outer shell, but the engines were basically healthy... just overheated. He was just going to let the ship cool down for an hour or so, and then set off back for home.
Dacker smiled. Once again, the hand of fate had given him the ability to avoid an accident unharmed.
Fen opened the main entry portal of the ship. "I might as well pick up a souvenir while I'm here on the planet."
Dacker shut off the engine systems completely, and then began making his way to the door. He saw, out of a side viewing window, that the place at which he landed was experiencing night.
The Aloissian smiled as he got closer to the main portal, thinking about greeting his banker when he returned home, and how proud his family would be of him.
Fen was shocked, however, when he saw someone outside. He was doubly surprised when that someone, an old native of the planet, ran up the stairs leading to the entrance, and lunged at Fen.
Dacker tried to fight him off, but was a little too late, ads the old man in his torn clothing gripped the alien in a headlock, and snapped his neck. The hand of fate had finally turned against the Aloissian, who dropped to t
The old migrant worker, a man of rough hands named Paul Martinez, finally fell asleep next to his hand plow.
As he slept on the frosty ground, his dream thoughts remembered back to the days of old Blanco.
The man that the migrant worker and the other workers referred to in their minds as Blanco had arrived, come to them suddenly one day.
Paul himself had felt his eyes stinging with the sweat drizzling into them from the warm sun on the day he had first seen the man.
In his life, Paul had been used to workers coming and going from his group. His groups consisted of quite a few families that were being illegally exploited by a rich farmer of wine grapes, a brutish man named Stan McNare.
Paul was not used to seeing a white man come into their midst, however... it was an oddity.
The man was wearing old ratty clothing, clothes that were in even worse shape than the ones Paul himself bore on his body.
At first, Paul thought the man to be some sort of journalist, trying to break the "news" of migrant slave labor, or some such thing. This man, however, proved genuine... downtrodden like the rest of them.
The old white man's work was inferior at first, but after being threatened with expulsion from the community, finally managed to produce adequate results.
The old man did have an unusual penchant for stories, however. Around the fires at night he would tell stories of his being a king among men and magicians.
The men and women of the camp would laugh heartily at him, since he seemed so sincere in his madness.
The man would talk to himself in his sleep, heartily, almost every single night. The Hispanic men of the camp jokingly began calling him Hidalgo, short for what they called him behind his back, El Hidalgo Loco.
A hand shook Paul's shoulder, waking him. Paul squinted his eyes, to see his younger brother. "Mario," Paul said, "Why did you wake me?"
Mario rolled his eyes at his brother. "It is already past sunrise, and you're still here being lazy."
Paul narrowed his eyes at Mario in mock anger, and then laughed as Mario helped him to his feet.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Elizabeth, and then Benji, materialized in the middle of a highway access road, apparently barren for some miles around them.
"I thought that here would be the best place for us to learn the final phase of your training," Elizabeth said to the boy, her heart sinking steadily.
"Remember, Benji," Elizabeth continued. "It's like teleporting... open your mind, and think of yourself as being part of the air."
Elizabeth's form appeared to fade, as her brow furrowed, but she stayed in her place. She turned to Benji. "Now," she said. "You try it..."
Benji squeezed his eyes shut, and thought very hard.
"That's good, Benji, that's very good... very good indeed," Elizabeth said, breaking Benji's concentration. "You did that rather well."
Benji smirked, his confidence filling his mind with a musky warmth.
A honk could be heard, and Elizabeth turned in the general direction of the noise. "Now," she began, "Comes the real test."
Around a sharp turn in the road ahead, a large pickup truck came racing, seemingly at break-neck speeds.
Benji, who was in the shoulder of the road, called out. "Elizabeth, watch out!"
Elizabeth smiled at him as a tear rolled down her cheek. "Don't worry!" she replied, "Nothing to fear here!"
Elizabeth concentrated again, and the truck approached, honking now at the female form that apparently had not been noticed until too late... The image of a truck passed through Elizabeth, and then disappeared around another bend in the road, far behind them.
Elizabeth looked once again at Benji. "See?" she said. "Not nearly as hard as you thought."
Benji cocked his head to the right, and laughed. "That's great! Do you think that I can do that now?"
Elizabeth froze momentarily. "I, I don't know, Benji... it's a hard thing to do... lots of danger."
Benji groaned. "Nonsense, Elizabeth!! If you can do it, I know that I can too!"
Benji observed a car in the distance, and walked to the very edge of the road's shoulder.
The car approached more slowly that the "pick-up" had, but still with too much speed.
Benji readied himself, crouching in a running stance.
Elizabeth held her hand over her mouth, and finally could not restrain herself any longer. She began taking steps towards Benji.
A couple of hands held Elizabeth, reminding her of why she was actually here.
The car was almost at their location. Benji took a deep breath, and then jumped into the road, closed his eyes, and concentrated as he had done before...
The car bore down on Benji, and "Elizabeth" averted her eyes... as the 900 pound vehicle impacted with the 90 pound frame of the young telepath. Elizabeth screamed.
"Snap out of it, then!" the male beside her said, as the Celebrity's brakes were applied and the male slapped the female on the face.
The car came to a complete stop, and a beaming Karain stepped out of it. She glanced down at the inert form of the dead new telepath, and continued to the spot near the road where David and Vanessa, formerly known to Benji as Elizabeth, stood.
Karain looked at Vanessa smugly. "Calm yourself down, my dear," Karain began. "The experiment was completely successful... we now know that there is nothing that could be able to stop us."
Vanessa lashed out at the other two. "He was a boy, a telepath like us! How could you kill one of our own?"
David growled at her. "You? What's this 'you' nonsense? You're one of us, may I remind you, and you're the one who baited him to stand in the middle of the road. You're just as responsible as we are... so shut the hell up and accept it."
Vanessa began to cry, and then struck David. He sidestepped her next attempt at a blow, and he tripped her, causing her to crash into the ground.
David shrugged. "What a waste... having to lose two telepaths in one day. One telepath in the name of science, surely, but two?" David walked over to the car and pulled out a weapon, a deer rifle.
He took the safety off, and cocked the barrel. "Of course, Van, it's not like we didn't predict your response..."
David aimed the gun at the prostrate telepath, and fired.
he deckplate, lifeless.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Three weeks passed while the Galactic Council met, on and off. Cawston checked on their progress every other day, just to be told that he had to wait further.
Finally, the decision came. Cawston was called into the Council room by a page.
President Ular beckoned Cawston to have a seat. "Professor Bryan Cawston," he began. "We have come to a decision.
"In light of your being a non-telepathic human, and in light of the slight, but very real discrimination that you have received here on the Trig, we have determined that you will be allowed to return to Sol III, designated Earth by your tongue, if you so choose. Doctor Cawston, what is your response?"
Cawston looked at the Tomorrow People who were in the gallery, smiling broadly. "Your excellency, I request that I be allowed to return to the Earth and be settled into an anonymous existence there."
Ular looked down at the table, and nodded. "So be it. One Earth week from today, a starship will fly you back to Earth, with the components of the biotronic computer TIM.
"You are directed to live as inconspicuous a life there as possible, and to help maintain the psionic dampeners that the Galactic Council has placed there. We are sending TIM with you, in the case that these psionic dampeners should become inactive. You would be able to rebuild TIM at that point and he would be able to contact us or provide you with a matter transmitter so that you can check on the status of these devices yourself.
"Good luck, Dr. Cawston."
Bryan bowed to the President. "Thank you so much, your excellency."
With that, Cawston stood upright and exited the room.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
The old man looked at himself in a reflective surface onboard the spaceship. His beard was far longer than he had ever worn it. He considered himself to be scraggly by any standards. No matter.
The man walked to the control room of the ship, and sat at the pilot's seat. He examined the readouts, and smiled. "Almost all of it is intact," he said to himself, and began activating the ship's systems.
The old man's chin rose, for the first time in years. He smiled.
The elderly human brought the ship's engines to full power, and caused the ship to lift off into the night sky, leaving a confounded observer... Paul Martinez.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
With the support of the Council behind him, Doctor Bryan Cawston returned to the Earth on the last weekend of April, 1983. He subsequently began a career as an anthropologist, one of the two degrees he held.
anet in the Federation? Perhaps a newer member, where the inhabitants still use vocal communication?"
Bryan shook his head slowly. "No, it won't help. I still don't have the communication skills necessary, when all of the chaff burns away."
Elizabeth frowned. "Then what can we do?"
Bryan stared into her eyes, and then looked intensely at John. "you have to talk to the Council, and help me... to return to Earth."
John slapped his leg. "I just don't think that's possible, Bryan.
"We telepaths are and would be restricted from visiting the Earth, even if our abilities still worked there. The Council would never let a traveler journey to a closed, quarantined world if said traveler wasn't at least a telepath."
Cawston stood. "They have to! I'm not some damn run of the mill traveler! I'm a native of the planet! Earth is my home, regardless of what happened to me and to you there. Unless you have some ingenious way to make me able to communicate telepathically, I feel as if I have no choice but to go and plead my case before the Council."
"They're most likely going to refuse your plea, Bryan," Elizabeth said. "What we must do is find you a place out here where..."
Bryan turned to her, angry. "Where mentally deficient humans like myself can be talked down to or ignored."
John felt his own anger rising. "That's not fair, Bryan. We have no enmity for you or any of the rest of our Sa... uh, nontelepathic families."
Bryan moved close to John. "Don't you? Look -- you had to hold back calling us Saps! Abbreviation or no, you know as well as I do that Sap is as much an in-joke, a private belittlement of us, as anything else. Look at yourselves... except for me, most of your families have been moved to newly emergent worlds where they can try to live semi-normally, where you don't have to really deal with them at all..."
John's brow darkened. "What are you trying to say?"
Bryan replied. "What I am trying to say is that we humans... no, make that we Homo Sapiens, are... discriminated against out here. We're the lower caste of the Federation, and you now it.
John took a breath, ready to respond, when Elizabeth placed a hand on John's right shoulder.
"He's right, you know," Elizabeth offered. "We do have a tendency, however well-meaning, to discriminate against members of our own families who live here."
John backed away from Cawston, and paced around the room. "You're right, Elizabeth, of course," John conceded. "Still, I don't see the Council making any changes in it's policy on account of people like Bryan. What can we do?"
Elizabeth stared, resolutely. "We will have to find a way to convince them."
The small red sports car winded around the road, it's engine pushing it a little faster than safety would dictate.
Cawston had always had a minor predilection for fast cars. It was something he considered to be his one vice.
The wind whipped over him, with the sunroof open and the warm, humid air streaming in.
Bryan was on his way home from his Thursday lecture, having left his research assistant in charge of the minor anthropology classes for the day.
Cawston pulled his aging Jaguar into his driveway, and got out. He nodded his head at the car. "I wonder if I'll ever get used to driving on the right hand side of the road," he asked him self, humorously.
Duncan, Florida was a relatively small town, a new suburb of San Diego, close to the college that Cawston had begun working at when he had returned to Earth.
Cawston opened his front door, and picked up mail from the basket it was sitting in attached to that door. He thumbed through it gingerly, disregarding grocery sales fliers, credit card applications, and the like.
Bryan entered his kitchen, and placed all of his daily mail into the trash, where he thought it would be best suited.
Cawston opened his fridge and looked inside, considering what he wanted to snack on. He made his choice, and pulled a tomato, several stalks of celery, and a half empty pitcher of orange juice out of the icebox.
Bryan whistled to himself as he poured orange juice into his blender, and added his two other selections. He pressed the button labeled "Liquefy", and in an uncharacteristic move, walked into his living room and turned on the telly.
Cawston went back to the kitchen, and oversaw the final emulsification of his juice drink. He listened to the anchors on the television speaking.
"I'm Jeff Langley."
"And I'm Beth Newsom, and this is news at noon."
Cawston disregarded their droning of local events as he searched his cabinets for the glass he was going to use for his drink.
"And now, in national news, police authorities in Paris, Texas, are asking for your help in finding a missing boy."
Bryan's curiosity piqued, though he didn't know why. He rinsed out the glass he had selected, and picked up the glass pitcher from his blender, removing the top.
"Authorities say that 11 year old Benji Granger, shown here on family videotape from a vacation last summer, disappeared four days ago, with no clue.."
Cawston began pouring the thick liquid into his glass, when the boy's voice could be heard on the tape. "Dad, dad!" Benji's videotaped voice sounded. "Over here! I got one!"
Cawston gasped involuntarily, the voice registering. His mind was assaulted with the blurry image, of a car approaching, and the boy, and the crushing blow.
"Yargh!"
Thick glass and thin glass and splashing juice reverberated in the tiled kitchen as it bounced against the floor, shattering and spilling outwards from the impact.
Bryan clutched his head. "Who is this? What's going on?"
* * * * * * * * * * * *
In the middle of a gray, steel colored, raised disc, Karain Gershwinn materialized.
She smiled. No one else was in the Control Center today, it seemed.
Karain went about the large meeting room, studying charts and computer screens on several walls, before sitting down to a lighted table for lunch.
Karain concentrated, and focused. A light grew from within the table, and a plate appeared, with an extremely rare steak and a baked potato, along with the customary silverware.
Gershwinn tore into the meat, enjoying the taste of the blood as it ran into her gullet and small drops ran down her chin.
A very audible sound occurred, and Karain faced the teleportation pad, watching David appear.
"So, Mr. McVay," Karain said between bites. "How does it feel, having put that worthless wretch out of her misery?"
David smiled at her. "Pretty damn good, I tell you. Although..."
Gershwinn frowned slightly. "What is it?"
"My stomach is burning inside again. Just like He said it could."
Karain shook her head. "Then He is right. These pathetic Homo Sapiens, with their lack of telepathic abilities, really are psychically and physiologically affecting us-- negatively."
David nodded. "It's what He has always proposed. That the humans have a horrible dampening affect on our powers, and that the more of them we do away with, the more we stand to get better."
Karain grinned from ear to ear, a sickening smirk. "Of course... if we survive that long. Like He said, the older we get, the more powerful our abilities become, the worse that the so-called "Sapiens Effect" will damage us.
David sighed. "Then we have to step up our efforts... try to control or kill them, one at a time, as often as possible. I mean, only when we kill one of them do we get the Reversal."
Gershwinn turned her head with her hand, causing her neck to pop. "Yes.. that wonderful moment at their death when we feed on their energy."
David frowned again. He looked at a calendar on the wall. "You know, He will be returning soon."
Karain beamed. "Yes... and I think he'll be proud of us, don't you think?"
"Of course. Of course." David replied.
"What do you think of that?" David asked, staring up at the ceiling, with it's four domes staring back.
The domes lit, and the voice echoed around them. "Agreed. Our Lord will be very pleased indeed."
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Bryan sat in his bathwater, having finished cleaning the mess from his kitchen.
"I just don't understand it," he said aloud. "I must be going mad, I simply must be. Even if I had some latent telepathic ability, which I don't, it couldn't possibly be active."
Bryan closed his eyes, and sank backwards, while his scientific mind proposed a thought to challenge his "couldn't possibly" statement.
Cawston sprang up a moment later, and grabbed a towel in order to dry off. "Not possible at all... unless somehow the psionic dampeners have malfunctioned."
The small red sports car winded around the road, it's engine pushing it a little faster than safety would dictate.
Cawston had always had a minor predilection for fast cars. It was something he considered to be his one vice.
The wind whipped over him, with the sunroof open and the warm, humid air streaming in.
Bryan was on his way home from his Thursday lecture, having left his research assistant in charge of the minor anthropology classes for the day.
Cawston pulled his aging Jaguar into his driveway, and got out. He nodded his head at the car. "I wonder if I'll ever get used to driving on the right hand side of the road," he asked him self, humorously.
Duncan, California was a relatively small town, a new suburb of
San Diego,
close to the college that Cawston had begun working at when he had returned to Earth.
Cawston opened his front door, and picked up mail from the basket it was sitting in attached to that door. He thumbed through it gingerly, disregarding grocery sales fliers, credit card applications, and the like.
Bryan entered his kitchen, and placed all of his daily mail into the trash, where he thought it would be best suited.
Cawston opened his fridge and looked inside, considering what he wanted to snack on. He made his choice, and pulled a tomato, several stalks of celery, and a half empty pitcher of orange juice out of the icebox.
Bryan whistled to himself as he poured orange juice into his blender, and added his two other selections. He pressed the button labeled "Liquefy", and in an uncharacteristic move, walked into his living room and turned on the telly.
Cawston went back to the kitchen, and oversaw the final emulsification of his juice drink. He listened to the anchors on the television speaking.
"I'm Jeff Langley."
"And I'm Beth Newsom, and this is news at noon."
Cawston disregarded their droning of local events as he searched his cabinets for the glass he was going to use for his drink.
"And now, in national news, police authorities in Paris, Texas, are asking for your help in finding a missing boy."
Bryan's curiosity piqued, though he didn't know why. He rinsed out the glass he had selected, and picked up the glass pitcher from his blender, removing the top.
"Authorities say that 11 year old Benji Granger, shown here on family videotape from a vacation last summer, disappeared four days ago, with no clue.."
Cawston began pouring the thick liquid into his glass, when the boy's voice could be heard on the tape. "Dad, dad!" Benji's videotaped voice sounded. "Over here! I got one!"
Cawston gasped involuntarily, the voice registering. His mind was assaulted with the blurry image, of a car approaching, and the boy, and the crushing blow.
"Yargh!"
Thick glass and thin glass and splashing juice reverberated in the tiled kitchen as it bounced against the floor, shattering and spilling outwards from the impact.
Bryan clutched his head. "Who is this? What's going on?"
* * * * * * * * * * * *
In the middle of a gray, steel colored, raised disc, Karain Gershwinn materialized.
She smiled. No one else was in the Control Center today, it seemed.
Karain went about the large meeting room, studying charts and computer screens on several walls, before sitting down to a lighted table for lunch.
Karain concentrated, and focused. A light grew from within the table, and a plate appeared, with an extremely rare steak and a baked potato, along with the customary silverware.
Gershwinn tore into the meat, enjoying the taste of the blood as it ran into her gullet and small drops ran down her chin.
A very audible sound occurred, and Karain faced the teleportation pad, watching David appear.
"So, Mr. McVay," Karain said between bites. "How does it feel, having put that worthless wretch out of her misery?"
David smiled at her. "Pretty damn good, I tell you. Although..."
Gershwinn frowned slightly. "What is it?"
"My stomach is burning inside again. Just like He said it could."
Karain shook her head. "Then He is right. These pathetic Homo Sapiens, with their lack of telepathic abilities, really are psychically and physiologically affecting us-- negatively."
David nodded. "It's what He has always proposed. That the humans have a horrible dampening affect on our powers, and that the more of them we do away with, the more we stand to get better."
Karain grinned from ear to ear, a sickening smirk. "Of course... if we survive that long. Like He said, the older we get, the more powerful our abilities become, the worse that the so-called "Sapiens Effect" will damage us.
David sighed. "Then we have to step up our efforts... try to control or kill them, one at a time, as often as possible. I mean, only when we kill one of them do we get the Reversal."
Gershwinn turned her head with her hand, causing her neck to pop. "Yes.. that wonderful moment at their death when we feed on their energy."
David frowned again. He looked at a calendar on the wall. "You know, He will be returning soon."
Karain beamed. "Yes... and I think he'll be proud of us, don't you think?"
"Of course. Of course." David replied.
"What do you think of that?" David asked, staring up at the ceiling, with it's four domes staring back.
The domes lit, and the voice echoed around them. "Agreed. Our Lord will be very pleased indeed."
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Bryan sat in his bathwater, having finished cleaning the mess from his kitchen.
"I just don't understand it," he said aloud. "I must be going mad, I simply must be. Even if I had some latent telepathic ability, which I don't, it couldn't possibly be active."
Bryan closed his eyes, and sank backwards, while his scientific mind proposed a thought to challenge his "couldn't possibly" statement.
Cawston sprang up a moment later, and grabbed a towel in order to dry off. "Not possible at all... unless somehow the psionic dampeners have malfunctioned."
> ...Duncan, Florida was a relatively small town, a new suburb of San Diego, close to the college that Cawston had begun working at when he had returned to Earth.
San Diego is in California, about 3000 miles from Florida! If Duncan is
a new suburb of San Diego, that would be one heck of a commute! Maybe a
TP could do it, but the poor saps could never handle it.
