Robin Cook - Abduction

“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.