Parallelogram : Day Two : Chapter 28
Five Days, Seventeen Hours, Fifteen Minutes
Walking easily into the decompression chamber, his footsteps echoing on the heavy metal under his feet, Parker tried, "So, what's your story, Dave?"
Surprised, Jennings pulled the massive steel door closed behind them. Carefully, he spun the circular handle to create an airtight seal that separated them from the rest of the group. "My story?"
"Yeah," he replied. "What's your story? You know. What do you do here?"
"Oh," Jennings said. Immediately, he pressed several buttons, and the door panel blinked from red to green. The mechanism hissed, and the door actuator engaged, guaranteeing the effectiveness of their isolation from the world. "I'm one of Larnord's caretakers."
"One?"
"Yes," he answered. "I'm one of the senior stewards. I've been with the Mallathorn since not long after his arrival on Earth."
"How many does he have?"
"To be perfectly honest, I don't know."
"You can ballpark it, if you like."
"I believe that there are several hundred, actually."
"Several hundred?" Parker asked, astonished. "What the hell does he do with that kind of support staff?" Glancing over his shoulder, he added, "He's not eating them, is he? It seems to me that every alien we've seen in the movies love the taste of human flesh."
"Oh, no. The Mallathorn requires little sustenance."
"Then what? Is he up and running around the clock?"
"Well, yes, despite the irony of a time traveler being wholly indifferent to time itself," the man explained nonchalantly. "You see, the Mallathorn never sleeps."
With a smirk, Parker asked, "You mean he's like Santa Claus? He knows if you've been naughty or nice?"
Jennings shrugged. "I don't know about that, Mr. Parker, but I do know that the Mallathorn never sleeps. His species, the Mallathorn, do not require the same level of regeneration that our human race needs. I don't think I've ever seen him sleep. I don't know ... well, I don't know that he'd know how."
"I'm kind of feeling that way myself ... ever since I arrived in this timeline."
"I can only imagine," Jennings said.
The two men stood in the decompression room. They stared at one another.
"What happens now?" Parker asked. "Does the little guy come in here, or do I go meet him?"
The guide smiled. "You'll be meeting him shortly, after you've had the chance to disrobe."
Parker raised an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"
"Disrobe," Jennings repeated.
"Yeah, that's what I thought you said." The chrononaut held up his hands. "Look, Dave, I appreciate the work you do here and all, but there's no way I'm walking into the next room to meet the overlord of some race of time-traveling aliens while I'm wearing nothing but my skivvies, do you understand?"
"But, Mr. Parker ..."
"I'm not going to do it, Dave."
"Mr. Parker," Jennings interjected softly. "I don't mean to alarm you."
"And I don't want you to see me in my underwear, Dave."
"I understand," the man tried, "but the Mallathorn ..."
"Larnord?"
"Yes. Larnord."
"Why don't you call him by his name?"
"Who?"
"Larnord," Parker stated. "You keep calling him by the name of his species."
Jennings stared straight ahead, his face going completely blank. "It's what he prefers."
"Then I think he'll have to understand that I prefer to meet people when I'm fully clothed."
Sighing, Jennings shifted on his feet. He glanced around the airlock nervously before he explained, "It's the suit, Mr. Parker. You have to understand that the Mallathorn ..."
"Larnord?"
"Yes, Larnord," the man agreed. "Larnord is very uncomfortable with our species."
"He's been here for a few years, hasn't he?"
Jennings nodded. "Yes, he has."
"So he's been among humans for a few years," Parker offered. "He has over one hundred human servants ... but you're telling me he's still uncomfortable around us?"
Cocking his head to one side, the guide said, "He's ... suspicious."
"Of me?"
"Of everyone."
"But he hasn't met me."
"He hasn't met everyone, either."
Parker crossed his arms. "So ... you're telling me that I've flown all the way across the United States for the sole purpose of meeting Larnord ... in my underwear?"
Grimacing, Jennings apologized. "I'm ... sorry?"
Waving, the man said, "It's not your fault, Dave. I've dealt with aliens before, believe it or not. I know that they're not always the most accommodating." He pointed to the airlock's door. "You'll have to step out, though."
"Why?"
Smiling, the chrononaut said, "It has nothing to do with me being shy, Dave. It has everything to do with keeping you alive. You see, in case they haven't told you, my biology and your biology are like oil and water. They don't mix. As a matter of fact, they shouldn't mix. There's this phenomenon called 'temporal contamination,' and, if you're exposed to me while I'm outside of this suit, some kind of temporal signature that's part of me will attack part of you like a virus. It kills people in a matter of hours ... and I don't want to see anyone else suffer."
"Oh," the man replied enthusiastically. "I understand."
"You do?"
"Yes," Jennings agreed. "But your temporal signature is of no risk to me, Mr. Parker."
"It's not?"
"No, sir. It's no risk to the Mallathorn, either. In order for me to be able to work in this facility, I've been vaccinated ... with Chroniticin."
"Everyone who works here is vaccinated?"
"Not everyone," the man explained. "Only the steward ... those of us allowed into the chamber."
"Why's that?" Parker turned and studied the heavy door that separated the two of them from the inner sanctum of Larnord. "Does the Mallathorn pose some kind of risk to humans?"
"Not that I'm aware," Jennings offered.
"Then why have you been vaccinated?"
"To the best of my understanding, the Mallathorn ..."
"Larnord?"
"Yes," he agreed. "Larnord. To the best of my understanding, Larnord has been expected you ... or another one of you from an alternate timeline ... for quite some time."
Again, Parker looked surprised. "Really?"
"Yes, sir. Don't get me wrong. It isn't as if Larnord knew you were coming. He simply has had his staff prepared for your eventual arrival."
"Why?"
Jennings smiled. "I believe you'll find out why from him. I believe that that is precisely why the Mallathorn called you here today."
Again, Parker studied the door. He wondered what to expect on the other side. No one had shown him a picture of this alien, and he wondered whether or not any existed. He imagined that the Mallathorn probably appreciated his privacy, and that privacy would dictate that no one – or very few people – had the chance to meet with him. If Larnord wanted to meet Frank Parker but the alien arrived on Earth – bringing with him the gift of a new Sphere in return for the one this timeline's Frank Parker destroyed – then how could the alien have possibly ever known that another Parker would inevitably appear in this continuum?
His head hurt, and he realized how much he hated the mechanics of time travel.
Reaching up, he twisted the seal on his protective helmet.
"All right, Dave," Parker said. "Get out your one dollar bills because Frankie is about to strip."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Never mind."
END of Chapter 28
Five Days, Seventeen Hours, Fifteen Minutes
Walking easily into the decompression chamber, his footsteps echoing on the heavy metal under his feet, Parker tried, "So, what's your story, Dave?"
Surprised, Jennings pulled the massive steel door closed behind them. Carefully, he spun the circular handle to create an airtight seal that separated them from the rest of the group. "My story?"
"Yeah," he replied. "What's your story? You know. What do you do here?"
"Oh," Jennings said. Immediately, he pressed several buttons, and the door panel blinked from red to green. The mechanism hissed, and the door actuator engaged, guaranteeing the effectiveness of their isolation from the world. "I'm one of Larnord's caretakers."
"One?"
"Yes," he answered. "I'm one of the senior stewards. I've been with the Mallathorn since not long after his arrival on Earth."
"How many does he have?"
"To be perfectly honest, I don't know."
"You can ballpark it, if you like."
"I believe that there are several hundred, actually."
"Several hundred?" Parker asked, astonished. "What the hell does he do with that kind of support staff?" Glancing over his shoulder, he added, "He's not eating them, is he? It seems to me that every alien we've seen in the movies love the taste of human flesh."
"Oh, no. The Mallathorn requires little sustenance."
"Then what? Is he up and running around the clock?"
"Well, yes, despite the irony of a time traveler being wholly indifferent to time itself," the man explained nonchalantly. "You see, the Mallathorn never sleeps."
With a smirk, Parker asked, "You mean he's like Santa Claus? He knows if you've been naughty or nice?"
Jennings shrugged. "I don't know about that, Mr. Parker, but I do know that the Mallathorn never sleeps. His species, the Mallathorn, do not require the same level of regeneration that our human race needs. I don't think I've ever seen him sleep. I don't know ... well, I don't know that he'd know how."
"I'm kind of feeling that way myself ... ever since I arrived in this timeline."
"I can only imagine," Jennings said.
The two men stood in the decompression room. They stared at one another.
"What happens now?" Parker asked. "Does the little guy come in here, or do I go meet him?"
The guide smiled. "You'll be meeting him shortly, after you've had the chance to disrobe."
Parker raised an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"
"Disrobe," Jennings repeated.
"Yeah, that's what I thought you said." The chrononaut held up his hands. "Look, Dave, I appreciate the work you do here and all, but there's no way I'm walking into the next room to meet the overlord of some race of time-traveling aliens while I'm wearing nothing but my skivvies, do you understand?"
"But, Mr. Parker ..."
"I'm not going to do it, Dave."
"Mr. Parker," Jennings interjected softly. "I don't mean to alarm you."
"And I don't want you to see me in my underwear, Dave."
"I understand," the man tried, "but the Mallathorn ..."
"Larnord?"
"Yes. Larnord."
"Why don't you call him by his name?"
"Who?"
"Larnord," Parker stated. "You keep calling him by the name of his species."
Jennings stared straight ahead, his face going completely blank. "It's what he prefers."
"Then I think he'll have to understand that I prefer to meet people when I'm fully clothed."
Sighing, Jennings shifted on his feet. He glanced around the airlock nervously before he explained, "It's the suit, Mr. Parker. You have to understand that the Mallathorn ..."
"Larnord?"
"Yes, Larnord," the man agreed. "Larnord is very uncomfortable with our species."
"He's been here for a few years, hasn't he?"
Jennings nodded. "Yes, he has."
"So he's been among humans for a few years," Parker offered. "He has over one hundred human servants ... but you're telling me he's still uncomfortable around us?"
Cocking his head to one side, the guide said, "He's ... suspicious."
"Of me?"
"Of everyone."
"But he hasn't met me."
"He hasn't met everyone, either."
Parker crossed his arms. "So ... you're telling me that I've flown all the way across the United States for the sole purpose of meeting Larnord ... in my underwear?"
Grimacing, Jennings apologized. "I'm ... sorry?"
Waving, the man said, "It's not your fault, Dave. I've dealt with aliens before, believe it or not. I know that they're not always the most accommodating." He pointed to the airlock's door. "You'll have to step out, though."
"Why?"
Smiling, the chrononaut said, "It has nothing to do with me being shy, Dave. It has everything to do with keeping you alive. You see, in case they haven't told you, my biology and your biology are like oil and water. They don't mix. As a matter of fact, they shouldn't mix. There's this phenomenon called 'temporal contamination,' and, if you're exposed to me while I'm outside of this suit, some kind of temporal signature that's part of me will attack part of you like a virus. It kills people in a matter of hours ... and I don't want to see anyone else suffer."
"Oh," the man replied enthusiastically. "I understand."
"You do?"
"Yes," Jennings agreed. "But your temporal signature is of no risk to me, Mr. Parker."
"It's not?"
"No, sir. It's no risk to the Mallathorn, either. In order for me to be able to work in this facility, I've been vaccinated ... with Chroniticin."
"Everyone who works here is vaccinated?"
"Not everyone," the man explained. "Only the steward ... those of us allowed into the chamber."
"Why's that?" Parker turned and studied the heavy door that separated the two of them from the inner sanctum of Larnord. "Does the Mallathorn pose some kind of risk to humans?"
"Not that I'm aware," Jennings offered.
"Then why have you been vaccinated?"
"To the best of my understanding, the Mallathorn ..."
"Larnord?"
"Yes," he agreed. "Larnord. To the best of my understanding, Larnord has been expected you ... or another one of you from an alternate timeline ... for quite some time."
Again, Parker looked surprised. "Really?"
"Yes, sir. Don't get me wrong. It isn't as if Larnord knew you were coming. He simply has had his staff prepared for your eventual arrival."
"Why?"
Jennings smiled. "I believe you'll find out why from him. I believe that that is precisely why the Mallathorn called you here today."
Again, Parker studied the door. He wondered what to expect on the other side. No one had shown him a picture of this alien, and he wondered whether or not any existed. He imagined that the Mallathorn probably appreciated his privacy, and that privacy would dictate that no one – or very few people – had the chance to meet with him. If Larnord wanted to meet Frank Parker but the alien arrived on Earth – bringing with him the gift of a new Sphere in return for the one this timeline's Frank Parker destroyed – then how could the alien have possibly ever known that another Parker would inevitably appear in this continuum?
His head hurt, and he realized how much he hated the mechanics of time travel.
Reaching up, he twisted the seal on his protective helmet.
"All right, Dave," Parker said. "Get out your one dollar bills because Frankie is about to strip."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Never mind."
END of Chapter 28
