CHAPTER 23
The church says the earth is
flat, but I know that it is round. For
I have seen the shadow on the moon, and I have more faith in a shadow than in the
church.
- Ferdinand
Magellan
Renoldson watched with amazement as the
darkened landscape blurred by, beneath his host's saucer. Although he could feel no motion at all, as
if he were standing still on the ground, the lights of towns and cities winked
by so fast that they appeared only as streaks of colored light. They would occasionally pass through a low
cloud that would occlude the view for a fleeting moment before it, too,
vanished into the distance behind. It
seemed unreal, like a motion picture being played back many times faster than
it had been filmed. Only the tranquil
stillness of the stars above seemed unmoved by their blinding velocity. My
God, we must be doing Mach 8, at least!, he thought.
"How long will it take us to
get to the base?" Renoldson asked Sarwin.
The alien was fiddling with some harness-like contraption, similar to
the one he was wearing, "and how
fast are we going, anyway?"
"We are going very fast,"
answered the alien through his translation device, stating the obvious.
Renoldson didn't sense the creature
was trying to be sarcastic.
"We should arrive at our
destination in less than ten of the time units you call minutes," it
continued.
"Wow," replied Renoldson,
"No wonder our aircraft can never catch you guys; like sending a biplane
after the Concord. So why aren't we
leaving a sonic boom so big that cuts a groove in the earth behind us? Why isn't this thing glowing white hot from
air friction? How do you get this thing
to go so fast, anyway?" The long
dormant aviation engineer within Renoldson was beginning to stir.
"You have many questions,"
replied the alien, politely, "You must appreciate that I cannot answer
them."
"Gotcha," acquiesced the
chubby human, in good humor, "Can't let this kind of know-how fall into
primitive hands, eh? I guess I can
understand that. So what's the plan
once we arrive there?"
"Plan?" repeated Sarwin,
"The plan will be to enter the base and search for my wife and her
ship."
"So you're gonna land this
saucer of yours right in the middle of Area 51? They have lots of guns there, you know. They've already got one flying saucer. They're gonna want to keep this one too. Everyone loves a matched set."
"We will not attempt to land on
the base," answered the alien, "We will land well outside its
perimeter and then I will send this ship into space under its own control. It will rendezvous with my cohorts, where it
will be safe."
"You gonna be able to call it
back, if we need to hightail it outta there?"
"If necessary, yes,"
replied the alien, "but the plan is for us to escape in my wife's
ship."
"I see," said Renoldson,
"So if you're going to drop us off well outside the wire, that sounds like
a long walk over desert terrain to get to the base. You should have found someone in better shape to help
you." He patted his protruding
belly to illustrate his point.
"Walking would be slow,
inefficient and dangerous," said the alien, holding up the harness-like
apparatus he was adjusting, "We will use these. They will allow us to float above the landscape, with great speed
and safety."
"Sounds like fun," quipped
Renoldson, "I can't wait to try it out.
But you know, I've never had a flying lesson."
"I will slave your harness to
my own," answered the gray-skinned being, "It is not necessary for
you to know how to operate it."
"Ah," said Renoldson,
"and I suppose we'll use that invisible cloaking device thingy of yours to
sneak onto the base, right?"
"You are correct. The shroud fields will keep us from being
detected as we search for my wife."
"Sounds like you've got every
base covered. So where is your home
planet, anyway?" asked Renoldson, hoping the alien would give some
answers, "Is it far from here?"
"Not far," responded the
alien, without looking up from its task.
Realizing the alien wasn't going to
budge on personal details, he decided to stick to questions regarding the task
at hand, which the creature seemed far more open about.
"Okay, so let's say this plan
works out for the best," asked Renoldson, "Let's say we find your
wife and her saucer, and we are able to escape with them. What's next?"
"I will return you to your
home, of course, before I rejoin my people.
Then we will leave for our home planet," answered Sarwin, "As
I mentioned, my cohorts are already in space, waiting for me, and hopefully my
wife, to rejoin them. If I am
successful, we will all make the jump back to our home world."
"Jump? I guess you mean through hyperspace or
something like that. I'd love to talk
to you about that, but I'm guessing you'll stay mum about that too, eh?"
The alien responded with silence.
"And what if we are not successful
tonight?, continued Renoldson, "What if you don't return to your
cohorts? Will they come after
you?"
"No. I gave them specific instructions not to do that. They will leave without me. They are preparing for the jump as we
speak. One way or the other, my people
are leaving your world this day."
"I see," said Renoldson,
pulling his bible from his jacket pocket, "Well, in that case, I shall spend
the remaining few minutes of our journey praying that we are successful, and
that both you and your wife shall be with your friends when they leave."
"What is that?" asked
Sarwin, pointing to the small, thick book in Renoldson's hands.
"It's the Bible," answered
Renoldson, "It is the written word of God on Earth."
"Ah," said the alien, in
an oddly disenchanted tone, "It seems the accident has not changed
everything on this planet."
"Accident?" asked
Renoldson, "What accident? What do
you mean?"
"Nothing," said Sarwin,
"I misspoke, please accept my apologies.
Your language is very different from ours. My language interpreter is occasionally erratic in its translations
of what I say."
If Renoldson didn't know better, he
would swear the alien was struggling to change the subject.
"Tell me more of this bible and
of your god," it finally said.
If Sarwin was looking for a subject
to divert Renoldson, this was it.
"Wow," said the big human, "There's a lot to it. I don't think I can do it justice in the few
minutes we have left before we get there."
"Justice," echoed Sarwin,
picking up on that word, "Does your god provide justice on this
planet?"
"Provide it?" replied the
human, "Well, I don't think he actually provides it, but he expects us to
mete it out among ourselves. Justice
would be one of the ways He expects us humans to live with one another. You know... in peace, and love and
harmony."
"From what I have learned of
your people and of your history, such notions as peace, love and harmony do not
seem to transpire in abundance."
"Well, yes... You've got me there. Humanity has often fallen short of God's
plan for us," answered Renoldson, "but that doesn't mean we shouldn't
keep trying. As long as we believe in
Him and keep trying to follow His plan, He will forgive us our sins."
"Sins?" asked Sarwin,
"My translator cannot interpret that word. Perhaps there is no direct equivalent in my language. Can you provide a synonym?"
"Ummm... sure..." answered
Renoldson, "Let's see... a sin is a failing... an offence against
God... it's when you do something
wrong, even though you know you shouldn't have. A mistake in moral judgment."
"I see," answered the
alien, "Yet your god will forgive such transgressions? That is generous."
"Yes... Yes it is," replied Renoldson,
"Perhaps I am wrong, but it seems to me that this concept appeals to
you."
The alien looked down at the
floor. It almost seemed sad. "Where I come from, to transgress
against the church is unforgivable."
"Ah, but that's the thing,"
assured Renoldson, "A church is created and run by people, and people are
flawed, including the inability to forgive sometimes. But God is perfect. He
always forgives."
"Always?" asked Sarwin,
"No matter what?"
"Always... No matter what," answered Renoldson
reassuringly. It was his easy demeanor
that made him a popular pastor in his town.
"As long as you believe in Him, He will always forgive.
Renoldson stopped and pondered the
alien, who seemed lost in thought.
"Maybe I'm reading too much
into this," the human continued, "but I'm getting the impression here
that you have some guilt on your shoulders, my friend. Have you done something recently that you
regret? Something that bothers
you?"
The alien looked out at the rushing
landscape.
"You have no idea," it
replied, quietly.
"Perhaps we can spend a moment
to pray together," offered Renoldson, "You can ask God for
forgiveness."
"I do not know your god,"
answered Sarwin, "and he does not know me."
"You might be surprised. He knows quite a bit. You said you have a church on your
planet. If so, you must have a god
too. It probably looks like you though
and probably goes by a different name."
"T'Chen," interjected the
alien.
"Well, I know some humans would
brand me a heretic for saying this, but I wouldn't be surprised if your god and
my God were one and the same. I think
God is too big to be limited to one planet and one people."
"Heretic," repeated Sarwin,
"Now that is a word I understand.
I was excommunicated from my church.
I am forbidden to pray to T'Chen.
The goddess is blind to my pain and would be deaf to any prayer I might utter in her name."
"That's your church talking, not your
goddess. Forget about the priests. They're just flawed mortals, like you and
me. They're far away now, but God is
here. God is always here. Come on, I won't tell your priests of you
wont," pressed Renoldson, with a smile, "Just one little prayer?"
"I have never prayed. I have never placed much importance on
it."
"Never?" asked Renoldson,
"Well, it's never too late to start.
And besides, it won't do you any harm!"
The alien let out a short bark that
Renoldson took for a laugh. "Now
you sound like my wife!" it said.
"What is your wife's
name?" asked Renoldson, "So that we may pray for her safety as
well."
Sarwin was about to answer when a
control panel beeped three times, in a pattern that reminded Renoldson of his
microwave.
"What was that?" the human
asked the alien.
"We are approaching the
base," answered Sarwin, "Say your prayers quickly human, then try
this on."
The gray alien handed Renoldson the
float harness, which he had adjusted to encompass the human's girth. Renoldson looked over the thin straps of the
flimsy looking web, shaking his head.
Its frail appearance did not fill him with confidence that it could
support his weight. Still, it was
apparent the alien's technology was capable of almost anything and he began to
wrestle himself into the harness.
Show time, thought
Renoldson.