Abduction

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The morning of the secondary humans’ second full day in Interterra began similarly to the first day. Suzanne and Perry were offhand with each other about their previous evening’s experiences and eager for what the day was to bring. Donald was less enthusiastic and a touch morose. Richard and Michael were tense and silent, and when they did talk, it was only about leaving. Donald had to shut them up when Arak made his entrance.

After bringing the group back to the same conference room they used the day before, Arak and Sufa launched into an educational session that dragged on for hours. This was mainly a scientific discussion that included the way Interterra tapped the earth’s geothermal energy; how the Interterran climate was maintained, including the mechanism used to generate the nightly rain; how bioluminescent technology was used to provide even lighting both indoors and out; how water, oxygen, and carbon dioxide were handled; and how photosynthetic and chemosynthetic food plants were grown hydroponically.

As the image on the floor screen faded and the general illumination began to return, the only two secondary humans paying attention were Suzanne and Perry. Donald was staring off, obviously absorbed in his own thoughts. Richard and Michael were fast asleep. As the lighting reached its apogee both divers revived, and they and Donald tried to make it appear as if they had been listening all along.

“In conclusion for this morning’s session,” Arak said, seemingly mindless of certain parties’ inattention, “I’m sure you have a clearer idea of why we have remained here in our subterranean world, that is, in addition to the microbial issue. In contrast to what transpires on the earth’s surface, we have been able to construct a perfectly stable environment with no climatic fluctuations such as ice ages or other weather-related disasters; essentially limitless, pollution-free energy; and a completely adequate and replenishable food source.”

“Is plankton your exclusive source of protein?” Suzanne asked. She and Perry remained fascinated by all the scientific revelations.

“The major source,” Arak said. “The other source is vegetable protein. We used to use some fish species, but we stopped when we became concerned about the ability of larger sea animals to be able to replenish themselves. Unfortunately, this is a lesson secondary humans seem unwilling to accept.”

“Particularly with whales and cod,” Suzanne said.

“Exactly,” Arak said. He looked around the room at the others. “Any more questions before we go back out into the field?”

“Arak, I have a question,” Donald said.

“Of course,” Arak said. He was pleased. Donald had thus far shown very little interest in participating.

“I’d like to know why we were brought here,” Donald said.

“I was hoping you had a question about what we have been discussing,” Arak said.

“It’s hard for me to concentrate on technical matters when I don’t know why I’m here.”

“I see,” Arak said. He bent over and conferred in a hushed whisper with Sufa and the Blacks. Then, leaning back, he added, “Unfortunately, I cannot answer your question completely since we have been specifically proscribed from telling you the main reason why you are here. But I can say this: one of the reasons was to stop the attempted drilling into the Saranta exit port, which I can happily say was accomplished. I can also assure you that today you will learn the main reason. Will that suffice for the moment?”

“I suppose,” Donald said. “But if we’re going to learn, I don’t see why you can’t tell us now.”

“Because of protocol,” Arak said.

Donald nodded reluctantly. “As a career naval officer, I suppose I can accept that.”

“Any other questions about today’s presentation?” Arak asked.

“I’m a bit overwhelmed at the moment,” Perry admitted. “But I’m sure I’ll have questions as the day progresses.”

“Well, then,” Arak said. “Let’s begin our excursion. With what you have heard this morning, where would you like to visit first?”

“How about the Earth Surface Museum?” Donald suggested before anyone else could respond.

“Yeah!” Michael blurted enthusiastically. “The place with the ’Vette out front.”

“You’d like to see the Earth Surface Museum?” Arak questioned with obvious bewilderment. He glanced at Sufa. Her reaction was the same.

“I think it would be interesting,” Donald said.

“Me, too,” Michael said.

“But why?” Arak questioned. “Pardon our surprise, but with all the things we have been telling you, we’re mystified that you would rather look back than forward.”

Donald shrugged. “Maybe it’s just a touch of nostalgia.”

“Seeing what you have chosen to display might give us a feeling for your response to our world,” Suzanne offered. She wasn’t as interested in seeing the museum as the other sites Arak had been describing, but was happy to support Donald’s request.

“Very well,” Arak said agreeably. “The Earth Surface Museum shall be our first stop of the day.”

Everyone got to their feet. For the first time Donald acted eager, especially when they got outside. He asked Arak to show them how to call an air taxi, and Arak was happy to oblige. Arak went a step further and had Donald place his palm on the taxi’s center black table and give the destination command.

“That was easy,” Donald said as the craft silently and effortlessly rose, then shot off in the corresponding direction.

“Of course,” Arak said. “It’s meant to be easy.”

All of the visitors found the air taxi rides mesmerizing. They never tired of the vista of the city and the surrounding area. With craning necks they tried to take in everything, but it was difficult; there was so much to see and the vehicle was moving at an astounding speed. Within a few minutes they found themselves hovering at the entrance to the museum, a half dozen yards from the barnacle-encrusted Chevrolet Corvette.

“God, I loved that car,” Michael said with a wistful sigh as he climbed from the air taxi. He paused and gazed longingly at the monument. “I was dating Dorothy Drexler at the time. I don’t know which had the better body.”

“Did they both need an ignition key to get them started?” Richard asked with a smirk.

Michael took a swipe at his buddy with an open palm, but Richard evaded it with ease. Then he danced briefly on his toes like a professional boxer before taking a swing of his own.

“No fighting,” Donald snapped, insinuating himself between the two divers.

“Your Corvette might have been fine for you and Dorothy,” Suzanne said, “but I feel rather embarrassed the Interterrans feel that this symbolizes our culture.”

“It does suggest we’re rather superficial,” Perry agreed. “Besides being rusty and in sorry shape.”

“Superficial and materialistic,” Suzanne said, “which, I suppose, is probably the case when you think about it.”

“You’re reading too much into the symbolism,” Arak said. “The reason we have put it here at the front of the museum is much simpler. Since we are now relegated to observing you from afar to keep from being detected by your advancing technology, the automobile is what we notice most. From a great distance it almost appears that the cars are the dominant life form on the surface of the earth, with secondary humans acting like robots to take care of them.”

Suzanne had trouble suppressing a laugh at such an absurd suggestion, but when she thought about it, she could understand how it might seem from a distance.

“What is more symbolic is the design of the museum itself,” Arak said.

All eyes turned to the building. Up close, the structure possessed an overpowering sepulchral aura. Four and five stories tall, it was composed of rectilinear segments either stacked or at right angles to create a complicated, sharply geometric form. Most segments were covered with square fenestrations.

“The building symbolizes secondary human urban architecture,” Arak commented.

“It’s rather ugly in its boxiness,” Suzanne said.

“It isn’t pleasing to the eye,” Arak admitted. “Nor are most of your cities, which are essentially so many boxlike skyscrapers built on grids.”

“There are some exceptions,” Suzanne said.

“A few,” Arak agreed. “But unfortunately, most of the architectural lessons the Atlanteans bestowed on your ancient forebears have been lost or disregarded.”

“It’s an enormous building,” Perry commented. It covered the equivalent of a modern city block.

“It needs to be,” Arak said. “We have an extensive earth surface collection. Remember, we’re talking about a time span of millions upon millions of years.”

“So the museum is not just of secondary human culture?” Suzanne asked.

“Not at all,” Arak said. “It is also the whole panoply of current earth surface evolution. Of course, we have been mostly interested in the last ten thousand years or so for obvious reasons. Although that segment of time represents a mere eyeblink in comparison to the period as a whole, we have concentrated our collections on it.”

“What about dinosaurs?” Perry questioned.

“We have a small but representative exhibit of preserved specimens,” Arak said. Then he added as an aside:

“Such frightfully violent creatures!” He shook his head as if experiencing a passing wave of nausea.

“I want to see that exhibit,” Perry said eagerly. “I’ve been dying to know what color dinosaurs were.”

“For the most part they were a rather nondescript gray-green,” Arak said. “Rather ugly if you must know.”

“Let’s go inside,” Sufa suggested.

The group trooped into the entrance hall. It was an enormous room sheathed in the same black basalt as the exterior. Shafts of bright light came from apertures in the high ceiling. They crisscrossed in the general dimness like miniature searchlights to illuminate displayed objects in a dramatic fashion. Multiple corridors emanated from this central hub.

“Why are there no people?” Suzanne asked. In every direction she looked, all she saw was empty, marbled hallways. Her voice echoed repeatedly in the sepulchral silence.

“It’s always like this,” Arak explained. “As important as this museum is, it is not particularly popular. Most people would rather not be reminded of the threat your world poses for us.”

“You mean threat of detection,” Suzanne added.

“Precisely,” Sufa said.

“This looks like a place where it would be easy to get lost,” Perry said. He peered down some of the lengthy, dimly lit, and silent corridors.

“Not really,” Arak said. He pointed to the left. “Starting here, with blue-green algae, the evolutionary exhibits are chronological.” Then he pointed to the right. “And on this side we have secondary human culture starting with the earliest African hominids and extending up to the present. At any given location in the museum one could determine how to find the way back here to the entrance hall by following the direction of progressively older specimens.”

“I’d like to see the exhibits depicting our modern times,” Donald said.

“Certainly,” Arak said. “Follow me. We’ll take a shortcut through the first five or six million years.”

The group followed Arak and Sufa like schoolchildren on a day trip to the museum. Suzanne and Perry found it difficult not to stop and view every display, especially when they reached the halls devoted to Egyptian, Greek, and Roman artifacts. Neither Suzanne or Perry had seen anything quite like them. It was as if someone had stepped back in time with free rein to pick the choicest objects. Suzanne was particularly enthralled with the period clothing tastefully displayed on life-sized mannequins.

“You’ll notice there is a marked quantity difference in our collections,” Arak explained. He had remained with Suzanne and Perry as the others wandered on. “We have comparatively little modern material. The farther back in your history, the more extensive the exhibits are. A very long time ago we used to make actual trips in isolation suits to collect for the museum. Of course, we eventually had to stop that practice for fear of exposure once your forebears developed writing.”

“Arak!” Sufa called from several galleries ahead. “Donald, Richard, and Michael are moving quickly, so I’ll go ahead with them!”

“That’s fine,” Arak called back. “We’ll all meet up in the entrance hall in about one hour.”

Sufa nodded and waved good-bye.

“Why were you worried about exposure to ancient peoples?” Suzanne asked. “They certainly did not have the technology to cause you any trouble.”

“Very true,” Arak admitted. “But we knew you second-generation humans would have it someday, and we didn’t want any record of our visits. It was enough to worry about the failed Atlantean experiment, although that was less of a concern since the primary humans involved had been posing as second-generation humans.”

Suzanne nodded, but her attention had drifted to an elaborate, ancient Minoan dress which would leave the breasts completely exposed.

“There is one period in your modern history that we have a lot of artifacts from,” Arak said. “Would you care to see?”

Suzanne looked at Perry, who shrugged. “Certainly,” Suzanne said.

Arak turned left and strode off through a side gallery filled with exquisite Greek pottery. With Suzanne and Perry at his heels he turned another corner and climbed a nondescript flight of stairs. On the floor above they emerged into a huge gallery filled with World War II materiel. The artifacts ranged from items as small as dog tags and uniform insignia to those as large as a Sherman tank, a B-24 Liberator aircraft, and an intact U-boat, with all sorts of objects in between. It was apparent that everything in the gallery was at one time submerged in the ocean.

“My word,” Perry commented as he strolled between the displays. “This is more like a junkyard than a museum exhibit.”

“It appears that our last world war contributed substantially to your museum’s collection,” Suzanne said. She and Arak remained at the head of the stairs. This was not an exhibit Suzanne was at all interested in.

“A big contribution,” Arak agreed. “Objects such as you see here rained down to the ocean floor for over five years. For the last few hundred years of your history, scavenging the ocean floor has been our only source of curios.”

Suzanne glanced at the U-boat. “Did the explosive growth of submarine technology and operations concern you?”

“Only in regard to sonar capability,” Arak said. “Especially when the sonar technology was combined with making bathypelagic contour maps. Such technology was one of the reasons we’d elected to close the entrance ports like the one you came through.”

While Suzanne and Arak continued to discuss sonar and its threat to Interterran security, Perry wandered the full width of the World War II gallery. Some of the paraphernalia seemed in pristine condition, other objects were barnacle-encrusted like the Corvette outside the museum. At the end of the aisle, he poked his head out a window facing east and caught a glimpse of the immense spires that served as supports for the Azores.

Perry glanced down at the courtyard below and did a double take. The Oceanus, the Benthic Marine submersible, was sitting on what appeared to be a flatbed attached to a large air taxi.

“Hey, Suzanne!” Perry cried out. “Come look!”

Suzanne hurried over to join him. Arak followed. Both leaned out the window and followed Perry’s pointing finger.

“My gosh!” Suzanne said. “It’s our submersible! What is it doing here?”

“Oh, yes,” Arak said. “I forgot to mention how much interest your ship has generated with the curators of the museum. I believe, with your permission, they intend to make it one of the exhibits.”

“Was it damaged?” Perry asked.

“Only minimally,” Arak said. “Skilled worker clones have repaired the outside lights and manipulator arm. It’s also been decontaminated, but is otherwise intact. Are you familiar with the boat’s components?”

“Somewhat,” Perry said. “But not from an operational perspective. Suzanne knows more than I. I’ve only been in it twice.”

“Donald is the real expert,” Suzanne said. “He knows the craft like the back of his hand.”

“Excellent,” Arak said. “We do have some questions about the sonar, which we have found to be even more sophisticated than we’d imagined.”

“He’s the one to ask,” Suzanne said.

“What’s the submersible sitting on?” Perry asked.

“That’s an air taxi freighter,” Arak said.

Michael made it a point to keep up with Donald, who was cruising through the museum as if he were out for exercise rather than studying the exhibits. Every few steps Michael had to run a couple of strides. Donald had long since left Sufa and Richard far behind.

“Why the hell are you going so fast?” Michael panted. “What is this, a race?”

“You don’t have to stay with me,” Donald shot back. He turned another corner and continued on. They were moving through a gallery containing Renaissance sculptures and paintings.

“Richard and I think we should get out of Interterra ASAP,” Michael managed. He was short of breath.

“You both made that clear over breakfast,” Donald said jeeringly. He turned another corner and entered a room hung with carpets.

“We’re getting a little worried,” Michael continued, trying to stay alongside the fast-moving ex-naval officer.

“About what, sailor?” Donald asked.

“Because… well… we have a problem,” Michael said hesitantly. “It involves a couple of these Interterrans.”

“I’m not interested in your personal problems,” Donald snapped.

“But there was an accident,” Michael said. “Or actually, two accidents.”

Donald stopped short and Michael did the same. Donald stabbed the air in front of Michael’s face. Donald’s lips were pulled back in a sneer. “Listen, bonehead! You two decided to fraternize with these Interterrans. I don’t want to hear about your difficulties getting along with them. Understand?”

“But-”

“No buts, sailor!” Donald spat. “I’m trying to get us out of here, and I don’t want to be distracted by either you or your half-wit buddy.”

“Okay, okay,” Michael said, raising his hand defensively. “I’m glad you’re working on it. Getting out of here as soon as we can is all I’m concerned about. I mean, I’ll help any way I can.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Donald said scornfully.

“Do you have any ideas about how we’re going to be able to do it?”

“It’ll be difficult,” Donald admitted. “We’re going to have to find someone besides Arak to get some real answers. Information is the key. The best thing, of course, would be to find someone who’s not happy here, yet who’s been around long enough to be knowledgeable about how to get out.”

“Nobody seems unhappy,” Michael commented. “It’s like they’re living one big party.”

“I’m not talking about Interterrans,” Donald said. “Arak has implied that a number of people from our world have ended up down here. Some of them must be homesick and not quite as chummy with the Interterrans as Ismael and Mary Black seem to be. It’s human nature, or at least secondary-human nature, to resist constraint. That’s the kind of person I’d like to find.”

“How do you propose to do it?”

“I don’t know,” Donald admitted. “We’ve got to keep our eyes open for when opportunity knocks. I can tell you I like being out in the city. We’re surely not going to find such a person while we’re sitting in that damn conference room.”

“But this place is deserted,” Michael complained. His eyes took a momentary detour up and down the empty corridors.

“I didn’t come here to meet anyone,” Donald said. “I came to this damned museum with the hope of coming across some weapons. I thought there’d be some, but I haven’t seen a single one. Having a museum about human history without weapons is ridiculous. The pacifism of these Interterrans is driving me up the wall.”

“Weapons!” Michael commented. He nodded. The idea hadn’t dawned on him, but he immediately was intrigued. “Cool idea! To tell you the truth, I was wondering why you wanted to come here.”

“Well, now you know, sailor,” Donald said. “And maybe you can even help, since this place is so enormous. If we spread out we can cover a lot more ground.”

No sooner had Donald uttered this suggestion than his eye caught something he’d not seen in any other exhibition hall: a closed door with the words RESTRICTEDENTRYwritten over its upper panel. Curious as to what it might conceal, he approached it, with Michael at his heels. As Donald got closer he could see that there were several other words in smaller letters: FORENTRY, APPLY TOCOUNCIL OFELDERS.

“What the hell is the Council of Elders?” Michael asked over Donald’s shoulder.

“Some sort of governing body, I imagine,” Donald said. He put his hand on the door and pushed. It was unlocked, like all doors in Interterra.

“Eureka!” Donald said as he caught a glimpse of some of the objects displayed in the room beyond. He pushed the door all the way open and stepped over the threshold. Michael entered behind him and whistled.

“No wonder we haven’t seen any weapons,” Donald said. “It looks like they got their own hidden gallery.” The room was comparatively narrow but extremely long. On both sides were display shelves cluttered with arms.

The two men had entered the gallery approximately halfway along its length. On the shelf directly opposite the entrance was a medieval crossbow with a quiver of needle-sharp quarrels. Michael leaned over and lifted the crossbow from its resting place. He whistled again. He’d never handled such a weapon. “Jeez!” he commented. “What a fierce-looking contraption.” He knocked the stock with his knuckle. The sound was a solid thunk. He twanged the bowstring. It was still sound. He held it up in the air and sighted along its shaft. “I bet this thing still works.”

Donald had started off to the right, but soon recognized he was going in the wrong chronological direction. The weapons were becoming older. Ahead he could see a collection of Greek and Roman short swords, bows, and spears. He turned and passed Michael, who was busy trying to bend the crossbow with a hand crank to slip the string into its locking device.

“There’s still a lot of strength in the bow,” Michael said as he succeeded finally. He placed one of the bolts into the guide and held the loaded weapon up for Donald to see. “What do you think?”

“It’s got possibilities,” Donald said vaguely while heading down the other way. He was encouraged when he saw the first examples of early harquebuses. “But I was hoping for something a bit more definitive than an arbalest.”

“I thought this thing was called a crossbow,” Michael said.

“Same thing,” Donald said without turning back.

Michael put his finger on the release lever and, without meaning to, discharged the weapon. The bolt hissed from its position in the guide, ricocheted off the basalt wall with a high-pitched scraping sound, shot past Donald’s right ear, and buried itself into one of the wooden shelves. Donald had felt the wind from the missile as it sailed by.

“Jesus H. Christ!” Donald roared. “You almost nailed me with that goddamn thing!”

“Sorry,” Michael said. “I hardly touched the trigger.”

“Put it down before one of us gets hurt,” Donald yelled.

“At least we know it works,” Michael said.

Donald shook his head with disgust while he reached up with his hand to check his ear. Thankfully there was no blood. The bolt had come that close. Mumbling expletives about the clowns he’d gotten stranded with, he continued down the gallery. Soon he was looking at a collection of World War II rifles and handguns. To his chagrin, they were in sorry shape, having suffered the ill effects of salt water. He became progressively discouraged until he came across a German Luger near the room’s end. At first sight it appeared to be in excellent condition.

Unaware he was holding his breath, Donald reached for the pistol and hefted it. To his delight, the gun appeared pristine even under close scrutiny. With great anticipation he released the magazine. A smile spread across his face. The clip was full!

“Did you find something good?” Michael asked. He’d come up behind Donald.

Donald pushed the magazine home in the pistol’s hand grip. It made a definitive, reassuringly solid mechanical sound. He held the gun aloft. “This is what I’ve been looking for.”

“Cool!” Michael said.

Lovingly Donald put the Luger back where he’d found it.

“What are you doing?” Michael questioned. “Aren’t you going to take it?”

“Not now,” Donald said. “Not until I know what I’m going to do with it.”

Richard stopped dead in his tracks. He could not believe what he was seeing. It was a room chock full of treasure, mostly from ancient times. There were innumerable cups, bowls, and even whole statues made of solid gold, all dramatically lit with concentrated beams of light. In one corner was a series of chests filled with doubloons. The display was dazzling.

What made the sight even more astounding for Richard was that the entire collection of inestimable value was all within easy grasp since the objects were out in the open and not behind protective glass barriers like he was accustomed to in all the museums he’d ever visited. And this was on top of the fact that the museum’s front door had no guards.

“This is unbelievable,” Richard managed. “God, this is fantastic. What I would do for a wheelbarrow of this stuff!”

“You like these objects?” Sufa questioned.

“Like them? I love them,” Richard stammered. “I’ve never seen anything like this. I doubt there’s this much gold in Fort Knox.”

“We have storerooms filled with these things,” Sufa said. “Ships have been sinking with gold for years. I can arrange to have a quantity of similar objects sent to your room for your own enjoyment if you’d like.”

“You mean stuff like we’re seeing here?”

“Certainly,” Sufa said. “Do you prefer the large statues or the smaller objects?”

“I’m not picky,” Richard said. “But what about jewels? Does the museum have jewels, too?”

“Certainly,” Sufa said. “But most of it comes from your ancient times. Would you care to view it?”

“Why not?” Richard answered.

On the way to the gallery of ancient jewelry, Richard caught sight of an artifact in a display of twentieth-century curios that brought a smile to his face. On a chest-high pedestal a Frisbee was carefully illuminated with a pencil of light, as if it, too, were as priceless as gold.

“Well, I’ll be!” Richard mumbled to himself as he stopped in front of the chartreuse disk. He noticed a few canine indentations along the Frisbee’s edge. “What on earth is this here for?” he called ahead to Sufa.

Sufa came back to where Richard was standing to see what he was referring to. “We don’t know exactly what that is,” she admitted. “But some have suggested it might be a model of one of our antigravity vehicles like our air taxis or our interplanetary cruisers. We were afraid for a time that there had been a direct sighting.”

Richard threw his head back and laughed. “You got to be kidding,” he said.

“No, I’m not joking,” Sufa said. “Its shape is very suggestive, and it can be spun to capture a cushion of air that mimics an antigravity ship.”

“It’s not a model of anything,” Richard said. “It’s nothing but a Frisbee.”

“What is it used for?” Sufa asked.

“It’s to play with,” Richard said. “You spin it like you said and then someone else catches it. Let me show you.” Richard picked up the Frisbee and gently flipped it up into the air on an angle. The toy reached an apogee then returned. He caught it in his palm between his thumb and fingers. “That’s all there is to it,” he said. “It’s easy, don’t you think?”

“I suppose,” Sufa said.

“Let me throw it to you and you catch it just like I did,” Richard said. He trotted down the gallery about fifty feet. He turned and tossed the Frisbee toward Sufa. She went through the motions as if she were going to catch it, but she was too clumsy. Although it grazed her hand, she failed to grab it; it clattered to the floor. After rolling his eyes at her ineptness, Richard trotted back and showed her again how to do it. But his efforts were in vain. On the next toss she was even more awkward than on the first.

“You people aren’t into physical activity, are you?” Richard said scornfully. “I’ve never met anyone who couldn’t catch a Frisbee.”

“What’s the purpose?”

“There’s no purpose,” Richard snapped. “It’s just fun. It’s a sport. Tossing this thing back and forth gives you a chance to run around.”

“It seems pointless to me,” Sufa said.

“Don’t you people get any exercise down here in Interterra?”

“Certainly,” Sufa said. “We enjoy swimming particularly but also walking and playing with our homids. Of course there’s always sex, as I’m sure Meeta, Palenque, and Karena have shown you.”

“I’m talking about a sport!” Richard complained. “Sex is not a sport.”

“It is for us,” Sufa said. “And it’s certainly a lot of exercise.”

“What about a sport in which you try to win?” Richard asked.

“Win?” Sufa questioned.

“You know, competition!” Richard said with annoyance. “Don’t you have any competitive games?”

“Heavens, no!” Sufa said. “We stopped that kind of nonsense eons ago when we eliminated wars and violence.”

“Oh, for chrissake,” Richard blurted. “No sports! That means no ice hockey, no football, not even golf! Jeez! And to think Suzanne thinks this place is heaven!”

“Please calm down,” Sufa urged. “Why are you so agitated?”

“Do I seem agitated?” Richard questioned innocently.

“Indeed you do,” Sufa said.

“I guess I need some exercise,” Richard offered. With the Frisbee under his arm, he nervously cracked his knuckles. He knew he was strung out, and he knew why: in his mind’s eye he kept picturing a worker clone stumbling onto Mura’s corpse scrunched up inside his refrigerator.

“Why don’t you take the Frisbee?” Sufa suggested. “Perhaps Michael or one of the others will participate with you.”

“Why not,” Richard said, but without much enthusiasm.

“All right, everybody!” Arak called out. The group had reunited out on the terrace in front of the museum after spending more than an hour inside. They were all discussing what they had seen during the visit, except for Richard, who remained on the periphery, repeatedly tossing the Frisbee into the air and catching it. At the base of the steps three air taxis were waiting.

“Let’s talk about the arrangements for the rest of the morning,” Arak said. “Sufa will accompany Perry to the air taxi construction and repair facility. Perry, I believe that is what you had wanted to see.”

“Very much so,” Perry agreed.

“Ismael and Mary will accompany Donald and Michael to Central Information,” Arak continued.

Donald nodded.

“What about you, Richard?” Arak asked. “Which of those two destinations appeals to you?”

“I don’t really care,” Richard said, continuing to flip the Frisbee into the air.

“You have to choose one or the other,” Arak said.

“Okay, then, the air taxi factory,” Richard said impassively.

“What about Suzanne?” Perry questioned.

“Dr. Newell will go with me for a meeting with the Council of Elders,” Arak said.

“By herself?” Feeling protective, Perry glanced at Suzanne.

“It’s okay,” Suzanne said reassuringly. “While you climbed into the U-boat in the World War Two hall, Arak explained the elders wanted to talk with me professionally, as an oceanographer.”

“But why alone?” Perry asked. “And why not me? After all, I run an oceanographic company.”

“I don’t think it’s the business side they’re interested in,” Suzanne said. “Don’t worry.”

“Are you sure?” Perry persisted.

“Quite sure,” Suzanne said. She patted Perry’s shoulder.

“Then let us go,” Arak called out. “We’ll all meet back at the visitors’ palace later in the day.” Beckoning for the others to follow, he skirted the old Corvette’s dais and started down the wide steps toward the hovering air taxis.

It did seem strange to Suzanne to be alone with Arak as the air taxi swept them off to their destination. It was the first time Suzanne had been away from the others except to sleep in her cottage. She looked over at Arak, and he smiled back at her. Being in such quiet proximity made her again aware of how handsome he was.

“Are you enjoying your orientation?” Arak questioned. “Or are you finding it frustratingly fast or slow?”

“Overwhelming is the best way to describe how I’m finding it,” Suzanne said. “Speed is not the issue, and I certainly don’t feel frustrated in the slightest.”

“Your group is quite a challenge for designing and tailoring the best orientation protocol. You are all so different, a fact that we Interterrans find fascinating but also daunting. You see, because of selection and adaptation, we are all very much alike, which I’m sure is something you’ve recognized.”

“You are all very nice,” Suzanne said with a nod, wincing at voicing such a platitude. She realized that until Arak’s comment, she hadn’t given the issue much thought. Now that she had, she realized it was true. Not only were they all similarly attractive in a classical sense, but they all were equally gracious, intelligent, and easy-going. There was little if any variation in their temperaments.

“ Nice is a rather sanitized word to choose,” Arak said. “I hope you are not bored with us.”

Suzanne gave a little, self-conscious laugh. “It’s hard to be bored when you are overwhelmed,” she said. “I can assure you, I am not bored.” Her eyes wandered to the incredible vista out over the city with the swarms of air taxis whizzing by. Being bored was the furthest thing from her mind, yet she suddenly understood what Arak was alluding to. After a while, Interterra might become tiresome because of its homogeneity. Some of the very aspects that made it such a paradise also rendered it bland.

Suzanne focused on a striking structure that loomed out of the tapestry of the city and pulled her from her musing as the air taxi quickly approached. It was an enormous black pyramid with a bright gold top. As the air taxi stopped and then descended to a causeway that led up to the pyramid’s entrance, she was struck by its resemblance to the Great Pyramid of Egypt at Giza. Having been to Giza, she could tell that the Interterran version was even approximately the same size. When she mentioned this similarity to Arak, he smiled patronizingly.

“The design was one of our gifts to that culture,” Arak said. “We had great hopes for them since they were, initially, a rather peaceful civilization. We sent a delegation to live among them early in their history with the idea of promoting them over the other extremely warlike peoples who had evolved. The experiment was not as big an undertaking as the Atlantean movement, and we did try, but it all came to naught.”

“Did you show them how to build it as well as provide the design?” Suzanne asked. For her the riddle of the Great Pyramid was one of the most fascinating of the ancient world.

“Of course,” Arak said. “We had to. We also showed them the concept of the arch, but they steadfastly refused to believe it would work and never tried it on a single structure.”

The air taxi came to a stop and the side opened.

“After you,” Arak said graciously.

Once they gained entry, Suzanne realized that any similarity between the two structures vanished. The Interterran pyramid interior was gleaming white marble, and the interior spaces were grand instead of claustrophobic.

As Suzanne and Arak walked down a corridor heading toward the center of the building, Suzanne was met by another surprise. Garona stepped out of a side passageway directly in front of her and enveloped her in a warm embrace.

“Garona!” Suzanne murmured with obvious delight. She hugged him back. “What a nice surprise! I didn’t expect to see you until tonight. Or at least I was hoping I’d see you tonight.”

“Of course you would have seen me tonight,” Garona said. “But I could not wait.” He looked into her eyes. “I knew you were coming to the Council of Elders today so I came over to wait for you.”

“I’m pleased,” Suzanne said.

“We’d better move,” Arak said. “The council is waiting.”

“Certainly,” Garona said. He took his arms from Suzanne and grasped her hand instead. The three began walking.

“How was your morning?” Garona inquired.

“Enlightening,” Suzanne said. “Your technology is astounding.”

“We had a scientific session,” Arak explained.

“Any site visits?” Garona asked.

“We went to the Earth Surface Museum,” Suzanne said.

“Really?” Garona seemed surprised.

“It was a specific request of Mr. Donald Fuller,” Arak explained.

“Did you find it instructive?” Garona asked.

“It was interesting,” Suzanne said. “But it wouldn’t have been my choice, not with what we had learned during the didactic session.”

They approached an impressive set of bronze doors. Within each panel was an embossed figure Suzanne recognized as an ankh, or ancient Egyptian symbol of life. It was another reminder for her of the apparent exchange of information from the Interterrans to ancient secondary human civilization. It made her wonder what else had come from this advanced culture.

The moment they arrived at them, the doors swung inward on silent hinges. Beyond was a circular room with a domed ceiling supported by a colonnade. Like the rest of the pyramid’s interior it was constructed of white marble, although the capitals of the columns were gold.

At Arak’s urging, Suzanne stepped over the marble threshold. She took a few hesitant steps before stopping. She scanned the stately chamber. Twelve imperial-looking chairs ringed the periphery. Each was situated between a pair of columns. All the chairs were occupied-presumably by council members-who ranged in age from about five to twenty-five. The unexpectedness of such a mixed age group had Suzanne mildly flustered. Some of the people were so young, their feet didn’t reach the ground when they sat.

“Come in, Dr. Suzanne Newell,” one of the elders said in a clear preadolescent voice. To Suzanne she looked like a ten-year-old girl. “My name is Ala, and it is my rotation as speaker of the council. So, please, don’t be afraid! I know these surroundings are imposing and intimidating, but we only desire to speak with you, and if you will come to the center of the room we will all be able to hear you clearly.”

“I’m more surprised than fearful,” Suzanne said as she advanced to a point directly beneath the high point of the dome. “I was told I was coming to the Council of Elders.”

“And indeed you have,” Ala said. “The determining factor for sitting on the council is the number of body lives you’ve passed, not the age of the current body.”

“I see,” Suzanne said, although she still found it unsettling to be standing before a governmental body partially composed of children.

“The Council of Elders formally welcomes you,” Ala said.

“Thank you,” Suzanne replied, not knowing what else to say.

“You were brought to Interterra with the hope that you could provide us with information we have not been able to glean from monitoring your earth surface communications.”

“What kind of information?” Suzanne asked. She felt her guard go up. In the back of her mind she heard Donald’s voice saying that the Interterrans wanted something from them, and once they got it, they might treat them very differently.

“Don’t be alarmed,” Ala said soothingly.

“It is hard not to be,” Suzanne said. “Especially when you help remind me that I and my colleagues have been abducted into your world which, I have to say, was a terrifying experience.”

“For that we extend our apologies,” Ala said. “And you should understand that we intend to reward your sacrifice. But it is we who are alarmed. You see, the integrity and safety of Interterra are our responsibility. We know that you are a learned oceanographer in your world.”

“That’s being overly generous,” Suzanne said. “The reality is that I am a relative newcomer to the field.”

“Excuse me,” one of the other elders said. He was a teenager at the very beginning of his growth spurt. “My name is Ponu, and I am currently the vice-speaker. Dr. Newell, we are aware of the esteem in which you are held by your professional colleagues. It is our belief that such respect is a reliable testament to an individual’s abilities.”

“As you will,” Suzanne said. It wasn’t a point she wanted to argue under the circumstances. “What is it you want to ask me?”

“First,” Ala said, “I’d like to make sure you have been informed that our environment is devoid of your common bacteria and viruses.”

“Arak has made that clear,” Suzanne said.

“And I assume you understand that detection of our civilization by a civilization like yours would be disastrous.”

“I can understand the worry about contamination,” Suzanne said. “But I’m not convinced it would necessarily be disastrous, especially if the proper safeguards were put in place.”

“Dr. Newell, this is not meant to be a debate,” Ala said. “But surely you must be cognizant of the fact that your civilization is still in a very early stage of social development. Naked self-interest is the prime motivational force, and violence is an everyday occurrence. In fact your particular country is so primitive that it allows anyone and everyone to own a gun.”

“Let me paraphrase,” Ponu offered. “What my esteemed fellow elder is saying is that your world’s hunger and greed for our technology would be so great that our special needs would be forgotten.”

“Exactly,” Ala said. “And we cannot accept such a risk. Not for at least another fifty thousand years or so, to give secondary humans a chance to become more civilized. Provided, of course, they don’t destroy themselves in the process.”

“Okay,” Suzanne said. “As you say, this is not a debate, and you have convinced me that you believe my culture is a risk to yours. Assuming that as a given, what do you want from me?”

There was a pause. Suzanne looked from Ala to Ponu. When neither responded she glanced at the other faces. No one spoke. No one moved. Suzanne looked back at Arak and Garona. Garona smiled reassuringly. Suzanne turned back to Ala. “Well…?” she asked.

Ala sighed. “I would like to ask you a direct question,” she said. “A question whose answer we are afraid to hear. You see, your world has started several deep-ocean drilling operations over the last few years, on a seemingly random basis. We have watched these episodes with growing concern since we are uncertain what the goals are. We know the drilling is not for petroleum or natural gas since there is none in the areas where this drilling is being undertaken. We’ve been monitoring communications as we have always done, but without success of learning why this drilling is occurring.”

“Are you interested in knowing why the Benthic Explorer has been drilling into the seamount?” Suzanne asked.

“I am very interested,” Ala said. “You were drilling directly over one of our old-style exit ports. The probability of that occurring purely by chance is extremely small.”

“It wasn’t by chance,” Suzanne admitted. As soon as she spoke these words a general murmur erupted among the elders. “Let me finish,” Suzanne called out. “We were drilling into the seamount to see if we could tap directly into the asthenosphere. Our echo sounder suggested the seamount was a quiescent volcano with a magma chamber filled with low-density lava.”

“Was any part of the decision to drill at that particular site motivated by a suspicion of the existence of Interterra?” Ala asked.

“No!” Suzanne said. “Absolutely not!”

“There was no thought of an undersea civilization in the decision-making process?” Ala questioned.

“As I said, we were drilling purely for geological reasons,” Suzanne said.

The elders again conferred loudly with one another. Suzanne turned and glanced back at Arak and Garona. Both smiled encouragement.

“Dr. Newell,” Ala said to redirect Suzanne’s attention to herself, “have you, in your professional capacity, ever heard of anything from any source that would suggest someone suspected the existence of Interterra?”

“No, not in any scientific circles,” Suzanne said. “But there have been a few novels written about a world within the earth.”

“We are aware of the work of Mr. Verne and Mr. Doyle,” Ala said. “But that was purely entertainment fiction.”

“That’s correct,” Suzanne said. “It was pure fantasy. No one thought their story lines were based in any way on fact, although they probably got the theme from a man by the name of John Cleves Symmes, who did believe the center of the earth was hollow.”

The elders erupted in another loud, anxious murmuring.

“Did Mr. Symmes’s beliefs influence scientific opinion?” Ala asked.

“To some degree,” Suzanne said. “But I wouldn’t give it much concern since we’re talking about the early part of the nineteenth century. In eighteen thirty-eight his theory did launch one of the first United States scientific expeditions. It was under the command of Lt. Charles Wilkes, and its initial purpose was to find the entrance to the earth’s hollow interior, which Symmes believed to be beneath the South Pole.”

Additional excited murmuring echoed throughout the room.

“And the result of this expedition?” Ala questioned.

“Nothing that would concern Interterra,” Suzanne said. “In fact, the goal of the expedition changed even before it began. Instead of looking for the entrance to the interior of the earth, by the time they got underway they were tasked to find new sealing and whaling grounds.”

“So Mr. Symmes’s theory was ignored?” Ala questioned.

“Completely,” Suzanne said. “And the idea has never resurfaced.”

“We are indeed thankful,” Ala said, “especially considering Mr. Symmes was correct in some respects. The South Pole was and still is our major interplanetary and intergalactic port.”

“Isn’t that curious,” Suzanne said. “Unfortunately it’s a bit late for Mr. Symmes to be vindicated. Be that as it may, I gather from your questions that you are asking me if your secret is safe, and I have to say it is, as far as I know. But while we’re on the subject, perhaps I should mention that although no one currently believes in a hollow earth, there have always been fringe groups who talk about aliens from advanced cultures that have visited us or are among us. There has even been a hit TV show with that as its theme. But these ideas of alien visitations refer to aliens coming from outer space, not from within the earth.”

“We are aware of what you are describing,” Ala said. “And we have been pleased with that association. It has been particularly useful on the few occasions that one of our interplanetary craft have been observed by secondary humans.”

“The only other thing I should mention,” Suzanne said, “is that our culture has had enduring myths about Atlantis that have come down to us from the ancient Greeks. But I assure you the scientific community considers them to be pure myths or possibly the result of the destruction of an ancient secondary human culture by a violent volcanic eruption. There has never been a theory that a primary human culture lives beneath the ocean.”

The elders noisily conferred again. Suzanne shifted uncomfortably as they deliberated.

Ala concluded the private discourse with a nod to her colleagues and then redirected her attention to Suzanne. “We would like to inquire about the episodes of random deep-ocean drilling that have been occurring over the last number of years in the general area of Saranta. None of these have been on the crest of a seamount.”

“I imagine you are referring to the drilling that has been done to confirm the latest theories of sea-floor spreading,” Suzanne said. “It’s been done merely to provide rock cores for dating purposes.”

The elders again erupted in a short burst of excited chatter. At its conclusion Ala asked, “Was there ever any suggestion the supposed magma chamber into which you were drilling was filled with air instead of low-density lava?”

“Not that I was aware of,” Suzanne said. “And I was the senior scientist on the project.”

“Those exit ports should have been sealed ages ago,” one of the other elders said with some vehemence.

“This is not a time for recrimination,” Ala advised diplomatically. “We are dealing with the present.” Then, looking back at Suzanne, she said, “To summarize, in your professional life you have never heard any suggestion that a civilization exists under the ocean or any theories to that effect?”

“Only as myths, as I’ve mentioned,” Suzanne said.

“And now for the last question we would like to direct to you,” Ala said. “We have become increasingly apprehensive about your civilization’s progressive lack of respect for the ocean environment. Although we have heard some mention of this problem in your media, the rate of pollution and overfishing has increased. Since we are dependent to some degree on the integrity of the ocean, we wonder if your civilization’s talk of this issue is mere lip service or a real concern?”

Suzanne sighed. This issue was close to her heart. She knew all too well that the truth was discouraging at best.

“Some people are trying to change the situation,” Suzanne said.

“That response suggests it is not considered an important issue by the majority,” Ala said.

“Perhaps not, but those who do care, care passionately.”

“But perhaps the general public is not aware of the crucial role the ocean plays in the grand scheme of earth surface environment, for example, the fact that plankton modulates both oxygen and carbon dioxide on the earth’s surface.”

Suzanne felt her face flush, as if somehow she were to blame for the way secondary humans treated the world’s oceans. “I’m afraid that most people and most countries view the ocean as an inexhaustible food supply and a bottomless pit for refuse and waste.”

“That is sad indeed,” Ala said. “And worrisome.”

“It is self-interested shortsightedness,” Ponu said.

“I have to agree,” Suzanne admitted. “It’s something I and my colleagues are working on. It’s a battle.”

“Well, then,” Ala said. She pushed herself off her chair. Once she got her feet on the ground she walked directly over to Suzanne with her hand outstretched, palm forward.

Suzanne raised her own hand and pressed palms with Ala. Ala’s head only came to Suzanne’s chin.

“Thank you for your helpful counsel,” Ala said with sincerity. “At least in relation to the security of Interterra, you have allayed our fears. As a reward we offer to you the full panoply of the fruits of our civilization. You have much to see and experience. With your background you are uniquely qualified, far better than any of our other earth surface visitors. Go and enjoy!”

Sudden applause by the other elders left Suzanne momentarily flustered. She self-consciously acknowledged the acclaim by nodding before speaking above the persisting applause. “Thank you all for providing me this opportunity to visit Interterra. I’m honored.”

“It is we who are honored,” Ala said. She gestured toward Arak and Garona, directing Suzanne to follow.

Later as the three exited the great pyramid, Suzanne paused to glance back at the imposing structure. She wondered if she should have posed the question to the Council whether she and the others were temporary visitors to Interterra or permanent, captive residents. Part of the reason she hadn’t was her fear of what the answer would be. But now she found herself wishing she had.

“Are you okay?” Garona asked, interrupting her thoughts.

“I’m fine,” Suzanne replied. She resumed walking, still engrossed in her thoughts. The one thing the visit did clear up was the reason she and the others had been brought to Interterra. The elders had wanted to quiz a professional oceanographer about suspicions of Interterra’s existence. She didn’t think that the treatment she and her crewmates would receive was about to change now that the Interterrans had achieved their goal. On the other hand she now felt solely responsible for their plight. If it hadn’t been for her, they would not have been abducted.

“Are you sure you are all right?” Garona asked. “You seem so pensive.”

Suzanne forced herself to smile. “It’s hard not to be,” she said. “There’s so much to take in.”

“You have provided a great service to Interterra,” Arak remarked. “As Ala said, we all are grateful.”

“I’m glad,” Suzanne said as she tried to maintain her grin. But it was difficult. Sensing that Donald was right and that they were in Interterra to stay, her intuition was telling her that a confrontation was inevitable, and given the personalities of some of her colleagues, the situation could soon turn violent and ugly.