Latt eased himself onto a kitchen chair and accepted a glass of the cool juice which Judy quickly got for him.
“Sounds like she’s done.” Brisson remarked, sipping her own portion as an enthusiastic male voice spoke of gratitude and wonder from the next room. It was a full five minutes, however, before Dr Hawk came back into the kitchen, accompanied by the now-perfectly healthy Canadian soldier, dressed in an impeccably clean and flawlessly tailored uniform.
“This is Corporal Lance Neathe.” Tracy’s smile was broad, but the newly impressive Lance pounded on Latt’s back and kissed Judy on each cheek, pre-empting any further introduction (and causing the unrestored Jusstinalss to wince).
“You ’ave saved my life!” His accent indicated he was from Quebec or one of the other French Canadian enclaves in the eastern Provinces. “But the good doctor ’as told me that now your turn it is. And I, I will take your place ‘ere, so that you can ’ave l’experience for your romance, n’est pas?”
“I’ll be back in a moment, Lance,” Dr Hawk assured him. “Try some of that orange juice.” And I’ll find you something to eat in a moment!
Latt and Judy eagerly returned to the oh-so-aptly-named ‘living room’, leaving their gloves and empty glasses on the kitchen table.
Dr Hawk helped her two specially-paired visitors out of their coats and draped the winter gear over an armchair, putting Judy’s one down first, as Latt’s was blotched with smears of oil and dirt. Their anticipation is great, but so is their exhaustion! I’ll fix both at the same time! Her trained doctor’s eye easily identified the injuries that Latt had recently sustained, including bruised or cracked ribs indicated by a stiffness in his posture, and noted how Judy stayed in physical contact with him as much as possible, as if she were unconsciously trying to drain away the pain, as the amazingly talented Kirrina could in actuality do.
“I’m so glad you brought Latt to me! I was hoping to help you together, at the same time – it was that way for Brad and I.” She realised Latt probably had not been ‘briefed’ on her husband, but left that introduction to the upcoming meeting in the subterranean chamber. “A lot of things in the world are looking very bad right now, I know,” the Doctor began, “but you’ll feel so much better after this ‘tune-up’ that somehow the dangers may not seem so… scary. Let me explain a little about how it works. The Arshonnan Medic System replaces sub-optimum human tissue with synthetic material that is essentially identical. Of course it always uses the optimum status (i.e. copied from DNA in the healthiest cells of the patient) for all replacements. Everyone asks if you can tell the difference after the change, well the answer is ‘yes and no’. You will know about it by how you feel, but you won’t find any joins – it’s totally and immediately integrated into your biosystem; it will act exactly as your older body would, except younger, of course, and the changes would be replaced naturally by your body's slightly less-than-perfect regenerative processes if you never used the Medic again.
“But… if you continue to use the Medic daily, or thereabouts, though you will not live forever, your bodies will always be in the very best possible condition for their age, and that’s a lot, an incredible lot, better than you could imagine. After about nine hundred or possibly even a thousand years, the replacement cells will not be any better than the aged ones, so then you will simply ‘fade away’. The Arshonnans were so advanced, they created so many wonderful things, but this is the most incredible invention that I could ever have imagined. Kirrina’s ancestors were simply geniuses!” Tracy could see the eagerness on both of their faces, so she restricted herself to one more helpful recommendation: “Now turn and look into each other’s eyes…” Then she uttered the ‘magic word’:
“Restore!”
Latt grew visibly and significantly taller – about four inches – and his complexion grew somehow warmer, rosier, healthier; even his dark brown hair started to shine as it had never done before. He looked like he was barely old enough to be an undergraduate. Although taller, his body was now equipped with typical Medic-moulded muscles, so that he looked less slender than he had before.
Judy’s face seemed to mellow from the hint of hardness that usually tinged it; her hair lay much thicker on her shoulders, and somehow was now perfectly groomed, glossy, not a tangle in sight. Her eyes, almost as bright now as Latt’s, seemed to take in all the changes, despite the fact that they remained trained on his. The two star-joined lovers smiled at each other, and stepped apart after a moment more, holding up each other’s hands, checking the vanished bruises and abrasions, or at least the places where they once were, and noting the change in Latt’s height.
“I don’t think I got shorter, so…” Judy grinned at him. “You won’t be doing any testimonials to the Narlav food plan, that’s for sure!”
Latt put his hands on her waist, picked her up – revelling in the ease with which he could do this – and held her up at arm’s length so that she appeared to be far taller than she had previously been, relative to him. Judy blushed and leaned forwards. He took the hint and pulled her close again, letting her feet touch the floor as she sank into his embrace. She lifted her chin and – they stopped, and both turned towards the Doctor, only to find that she had left the room.
“My kind of doctor!” Judy murmured, and she completed the move with a sense of invincibility, hope, and determination.
Latt found his newly restored body invigorating, and the sensations and emotions he had previously discovered, initially repressed and finally accepted, seemed stronger and harder to control. Several minutes passed. He finally broke the embrace with extreme reluctance and put his hands on her shoulders, as she seemed to disagree with his decision.
“I wonder how your Chief will seem to you now.” Latt tried humour to ease the sensation-saturated situation. “I bet he’s been restored by now, too.”
“Oh, he won’t be taller than you anymore, I just know it!”
“Did you like that about him?”
“No, but I sure like it about you!”
Judy stole another kiss… and finally the Restored ‘un-earthling’ pulled away again, though he desperately wanted to continue.
“Doctor Hawk!” Latt called out.
The effervescent doctor dashed back into the room and hugged them both simultaneously, revelling in the absolute perfectness of the wondrous transformation as only a physician used to highly skilled but imperfect twenty-first century patching could.
“You’d better get back to the ‘basement’. You’ll both be needed for the big meeting Walt has planned.” Tracy wiped a tear from each eye and pushed them back towards the stairs, barely giving them time to grab their coats, and dashing back to the kitchen for their gloves when she recollected where they had left them. In a couple of minutes they were back in the Aircar and taking off, under Latt’s confident, experienced pilotage again. A light snow continued to fall as they flew low over the town in the deep, infra-red augmented, apparent twilight, and their exuberant mood slipped a little as they thought of the hundreds of bodies still lying, frozen, unburied, in the houses below them, the thousands in nearby rural areas and similar towns, the millions in cities across the country, and the hundreds of millions around the world – or was it even more – that must have already died in the massive weather extremes of the past four days. The couple that flew slowly into the hangar were so sobered that they almost forgot in their distraction to acknowledge the assistance of the ever vigilant Marines at the hangar doors, and inevitably found themselves irrevocably committed to stopping the Narlav attack and saving as many as possible of the citizens of Earth who had survived thus far.
“Where now?” Latt asked as he let Seagull glide forwards into the centre of the hangar, noting the eclectic collection of military and civilian aircraft bunched around the periphery.
Judy grinned and let her eyes go wide, enjoying the response this brought from her fiancé. “Ah, just go down!”
Jusstinalss found a recently received memory that
confirmed this, though he had not previously ‘run it’ through his consciousness. He pushed down gently and held his breath as the floor came up to meet their vessel. Just before they touched down, a shimmering disrupted his vision. A moment later, curved, close bronze surfaces seemed to float upwards, above Seagull. More impressive to him was the view below: the 180 foot long elongated, vaguely egg-like shapes of black and light grey Polyebonium matrix, jostled by various other containers and machinery, laid out in a huge hemispherical chamber, became visible as they descended onto a vacant space on the gleaming floor. Ah! The Patrol Craft! And so much equipment! His space-mechanic mind was excited at the prospect of the leaps and bounds his knowledge would soon take.
Down in the lower construction area, the Aircar had barely settled to the floor and the door was still tilting upwards when Ed came running over. His voice made it obvious that it was him, and he was wearing what appeared to be the same military gear that he had donned for the attack that morning, just a few hours earlier, but so long ago.
“Latt! Judy! We are like a phoenix, rising from the ashes.”
“Or from the snow…” Judy could not contain the big grin that threatened to split her face in half as she took in the change in his appearance. He looked half his previous age – hair, once with subtle hints of greying, now jet black and covering his forehead like a toupee, paunch gone without a trace, previously pockmarked face blemish-free, and of course his pre-existing zeal made it unsurprising that his present energy levels seemed completely over the top.
“Yeah, you two. It’s good to have you back with us, Latt.” Ed slapped him on the back. “And the two of you together!” His smile was directed at Judy, and then Latt again.
This time Brisson could tell he really meant it.
“Hey, you NUIT folk!” Richard called them over. The GAF team had assembled as they had so many times before and began to settle themselves on the burnished bronze-like floor in a great circle. Baynes bounded over and took a handy space. Latt and Judy, still peeling off their winter garb, began to move over to join the gathering, but Brisson hesitated when she found that her fiancé had halted after walking about half the distance. The reason became clear: Paranak was moving to meet them… and the sole refugee from Rhaal had caught sight of his Narlav nemesis.
“I’ve been looking forward to meeting the man that survived being marooned on Mars.” Paranak walked nearer. Obviously the Narlav had been primed by Kirrina. He reached out a long arm and held his hand close in front of Latt, intent on the human ritual of greeting.
Latt just stared at him, taking in the strange yellow eyes, and the – to him – unusual greenish-tinged skin of the Narlav’s formidable and blocky body. His coat fell unnoticed to the metallic floor. Judy held on to Latt’s arm at the elbow, tense too, as she easily sensed the depth of his emotions without the aid of any special, empowered abilities.
“I have never killed an Earthling. No, not even one.” Paranak’s deep voice contrasted with the generally much lighter-toned human voices which Latt had listened to since his arrival on Earth. “I have, however, been in battles alongside Richard and Kirrina…” Paranak declared this without emotion “…where many Narlavs were defeated.” His statement might seem designed to mislead, considering the would-be assassin Fepniners – humans but not Earth-born – which he had decimated just a few months earlier, but in his ultra-noble Narlav way he had decided that they were an insult to the examples of humanity with which he had become associated, simply not worthy of mention, not worthy even of the appellation ‘human’. “Defeat, for a Narlav, can only mean that he has been killed, as no prisoners–”
“I know what death means.” Latt’s voice came out hard, almost venomous. “I watched many of my fellow humans, descendants of the once glorious Arshonnan colony of Foruna, die at the hands of Narlavs. I found out recently that there was an attack, long, long ago.” His voice started to rise, both in volume and in tone. “The Narlavs, your ancestors, destroyed millions of my ancestors. They just killed them because they were different. Just as the Narlavs are doing again, on this planet, right now!” He tensed his hands into fists, newly optimised muscles bunching and rippling up his arms, feeling the rage boiling up in him, amazed at the feelings evoked as he faced off with the perennial enemy of his life, and this time he was not scared, not intimidated by the monstrous strength of the double-thumbed hands and the double-elbowed arms, limbs stronger than any of the apes he had learned about since his arrival on Earth.
“And you wish to be like them?” Paranak’s next move riveted Latt’s attention; he pulled the short, white-bladed weapon from the decorative lattice-like structure around his right leg.
“What?” Latt growled. The restored, informed and infuriated freedom fighter from the former Foruna stepped back fractionally, though his demeanour did not change, and his stance became honed, optimised… ready.
Paranak flipped the knife in his hand and caught it by the blade. “Here. I have offered myself to Kirrina like this.” He seemed to pull away, and then Latt realised that the Narlav had kneeled down, and was leaning backwards with the other hand behind his body.
Latt looked at the stubby-handled knife, and the way the massive Narlav hand was holding the blade. He noticed that the blade was very sharp, as the alien’s tough skin was bleeding on both thumbs, the orange blood contrasting with the green-tinged greyness. He reached out, wondering if the Narlav would flip the weapon again and use it on him as he came within reach. Only one way to know for sure… He firmly grasped the handle, pulling the blade free and deepening the cuts in the process.
“You will need to plunge it in several times.” Paranak put the bleeding hand behind his back with the other one, interlocking the arms there. “Narlav physiology includes great resistance to what you might think of as a killing stroke.”
Latt took a step closer. Paranak’s curved torso was within his reach. He looked around, and found an audience frozen at attention, some still sitting, others standing, all watching him with an emotional intensity that shocked him. It appeared that he would not be stopped, whatever he decided; even Judy had stepped away. Suddenly his rage faded, and he felt incredibly foolish, holding a Narlav weapon whilst his eternal enemy lay at his mercy, at his feet.
“I’m not a cold-blooded killer.”
Paranak stood up slowly, but kept his hands behind his back. He said nothing in return.
“I’m sorry.” Latt cleared his throat. “I know you can’t help what you are.”
“No more than you can.” The mellow tones sounded sad but forthright.
Latt held out the knife, and Paranak took it by the blade once more, flipped it around again and returned it to its scabbard in the lattice-work on his leg. He held out the bleeding hand as before, and Latt grasped it gently. Paranak squeezed, making sure that a fair portion of his blood was transferred to the ex-slave.
“How can this be?” Latt asked semi-rhetorically. “You’re my enemy!”
“There is an old saying here on Earth,” Paranak continued in his deep and somehow soothing voice. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”
“If that’s what they say…” Latt nodded, squeezing back, and he looked at the relieved expressions all around. He smiled wryly as he shook his head, listening to the cheering now swelling to a mighty crescendo, filling the metallic chamber. It was many, many seconds before the sound faded away. Once it had, he continued wryly, almost apologetically: “Let’s get on with the meeting.”
And of course, that is exactly what they did.
Chapter Fourteen
Not merely déjà vu: a future event seen earlier in a premonition
After the meeting, the remaining hours of night were used – by almost all those assigned to early morning missions – to get a little sleep. The exception (of course) was Paranak, as he was equipped with a metabolism that functioned on a forty-hour day. He spent the entire time optimising the sensors and communication equipment in each Aircar to make it easier for th
eir operators to track both their targets and each other. He often went for extended periods without sleep, even by Narlav norms, so this devotion to his duties was not unusual. As the first signs of lightening cloud cover in the east began to show, he mounted some atmospheric Arshonnan weapons – quantum lasers – in each craft, and was very pleased with the result, thinking, in the instance of Seagull and Stork at least, that he had given these ‘birds’ some teeth.
***
Richard stretched out his arms along the rear bench as Brad piloted the graceful Aircar through the hangar doors and out into the wintry twilit exterior. Their two ‘alien’ friends – one from Craklav, the other from Rhaal – were seated on either side of the pilot’s central position, a decision that seemed prudent, bearing in mind the very nascent development of their ‘friendship’.
Hawk pointed Seagull up into the pale, cloud-cluttered sky and pushed forwards on the control sphere until the air could be heard – faintly – rushing past their Arshonnan atmospheric transport. There was no sensation of acceleration and the almost vertical attitude had no effect on the comfortable Earth-type gravity field maintained within this versatile vessel, though the multiple layers of cloud emphasized their impressive velocity as they flashed through them in rapid succession.
In about a minute they had reached a hundred thousand feet; the sun was quite high above the distant horizon and more brilliant than helicopter pilot Hawk had ever experienced, as it was not hampered by the interference of a thick atmosphere. The concept of dawn now seemed somehow irrelevant. The sky, instead of progressing to blue from the early morning red and purple tints, was rapidly darkening to a vacuum-influenced blackness.
“I’ve never been this high before,” Brad remarked to Latt, who was seated on his right.
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