I must have gotten the old Harley up to seventy or thereabouts when I hit the flying saucer.
I knew that it was a flying saucer because when I woke up, the room looked just like those out-of-focus abductee re-enactments from Unsolved Mysteries. I was in a glaringly white room, on a table Dr. McCoy would kill for, strapped down while little robot arms did something painful looking to my left knee.
I didn't feel a thing. The arms sprouted out of a bubble hanging from the ceiling over the table. Little dark-gray wrinkly-looking people surrounded the table I was strapped onto. A pair of larger, almost man-sized insect-looking people seemed to be overseeing the work performed by the shorter people. As soon as one of the little people noticed that I was awake, he went to one of the insect-overseers.
The overseer shrilled out a few words I couldn't understand and the little one pressed a button on the side of the table. Another arm came down from the bubble overhead and positioned itself over my face. It was only inches away, blocking my vision of anything else in the room. It started to hum and I could feel it getting warm. I drew a breath to scream and everything fell out from under me. I fell into blackness, seemingly forever.
Naturally, when I woke up the first thing I did was to check to see that I still had all of my body parts. Then I noticed that the pain was gone, completely gone. I was no longer strapped down, hell, I wasn't even in the same room!
I was on a bunk sort-of bed in a room with light gray walls and no windows that I could see. I could feel a thrumming sort of vibration through the bedframe and put my hand to the wall beside me. The wall was vibrating too. I was now wearing what looked like a normal hospital gown and could see my clothes hanging in a small alcove across the room. I sat up carefully, then looked at my knee where the little guys had been working.
There were two little scars about 3/4 of an inch long spaced about three inches apart on the inside of my lower leg, just below my left knee. They were a little red, but looked pretty much healed.
I gently sat up on the bunk and wondered how long I'd been knocked out. I felt tired and stiff, like I'd been there a while, but when I rubbed my chin in thought I could feel only about two days worth of stubble. I also felt a small bump, like a blister or pimple, behind my right ear. I slowly put my feet to the floor and stood up, stretching. I could feel all my joints popping like I hadn't moved in a while. The floor was warm under my bare feet. I stood still and thought back over the events I remembered; the argument with my girlfriend, riding along a dark road at night to calm down, whipping around a curve to run smack-dab into a glowing white wall that someone had put right across the road, then waking up in that operating room. After that I was here, waking up again in the bunk bed.
Except for the Aliens I could have been in a normal hospital. It never occurred to me to think I'd been hallucinating, this was real and if I didn't want to go nuts I'd better treat it as real. I began to look for a door, but I didn't see one anywhere. I walked over and checked out my clothes in the alcove. Somehow the hospital gown didn't seem to be enough to be wearing, especially when I realized that it was all that I had on. I saw that my pants had been cut open along the inseam of the left leg, then repaired. There was only one seam on the right pantleg but two on the left. My Adam Ant T-shirt was all right and my leather jacket had only one scuff-mark that I'd never seen before. Looks like I cut a flip while flying off my bike and had landed on my shoulder.
At least the painting I'd done on the back hadn't gotten damaged. I'd put in a lot of work on that and I was really proud of it. I looked around the room before I felt the pockets of my jacket, the little Derringer I kept in one of the pockets was still there. My wallet, keys, pocketknife, and change were still in my pants pockets. My socks and boots were on the floor. I carried my clothes back to the bunk and dressed quickly. Turning to face the bunk, I pulled out the pistol and cracked it open. It was still loaded and the firing pins for both barrels were still there. I put it back in the pocket, turned, and sat on the edge of the bunk to think out my next move.
Don't give me a hard time about the gun, I've never had to use it except for target practice, but I was glad it was there if I came to need it. I prayed I wouldn't need it.
After a few quiet minutes I heard a hissing noise and looked up to see part of the wall next to the alcove slide sideways. Framed in the opening was one of the insect-looking guys. He (she? it?) looked me over and stepped into the room. I was glad to see that the door stayed open. The alien raised both hands toward me, palms out, I guess to show me that he was empty-handed. I did the same thing and the corners of his mouth kind of curled up in what I hoped was a smile.
"I hope you can tell me what's going on here." I said in a quiet voice. I was doing my best not to appear threatening. When he answered it sent a chill down my spine, not only could I understand him, but I could only hear him from my right ear.
"Indeed, if I could not, another would have been sent in my place."
"Wow, English, I didn't expect that" I managed to gasp out.
"Not at all, the microchip we implanted behind your right ear is providing a translation for you. I have one as well. Do not be afraid for that is its' only function."
That explained the bump I'd felt earlier. Now that he'd told me, I noticed a rasping, hissing sort of sound whenever he spoke, although the English translation almost drowned it out.
"All right," I said, "so I hear you in my language and you hear me in yours?"
"Yes, that is correct. You have questions, no doubt. I will attempt to answer them as best I can. But first I must ask if you feel any dizziness, headache, or nausea?"
"No, I feel fine. A little stiff, but that's all."
"How is your leg? We had to make some repairs to the bone structure. It had been broken when you rammed our ship with your vehicle."
"My leg feels fine. Hey! What about my bike? How bad..."
"It will be difficult to repair," he said sadly. "It was much more damaged than yourself. We brought it on board and placed it in the cargo area, you may see it soon, if you wish."
"Are we still on the ground?"
"No, our Commander thought it wise for us to remove ourselves from the vicinity. We are now in flight, behind your planet's moon where we will be safe from detection. We have no wish to precipitate a war amongst your people. As would surely happen if our ship were to be detected and mistaken for something from your nations' enemies."
"Don't be too sure about that. We'd probably think we were hallucinating. Nobody shoots at flying saucers anymore, at least, not that I know of. Where are you guys from, anyway? And what brings you to earth?"
"Now you ask harder questions. Where we originate will be harder to explain. As to our purpose on your world... we were lost, taken off of our intended course by an unforeseeable accident. We had to land in a place with a breathable atmosphere to effect repairs. We also had to take time to determine our whereabouts so that we could plot a course for our home."
"You mean you're lost?" "Yes, somewhat. We now know where we are... getting back where we belong will be somewhat more difficult."
"Oh, why?"
"Because... we are no longer in our proper universe." the alien said sadly.
I couldn't think of a thing to say.
"We do have one recourse, however. There is one being that may be able to help. He has a small base of operations nearby. If he consents to assist us, all may yet be well. We waited until you had recovered for a specific reason. We may need your help for he is reputed to be quite fond of your world and your people."
"Who... where," I stammered," Needless to say, I was confused, and a little bit frightened.
"How could I possibly help?" Embarrassingly enough, my stomach picked then to start rumbling.
"I perceive that you are hungry. Come, we will discuss this matter further over a meal. Then you may decide whether or not you choose to help us."
I won't try to describe dinner, other than to say that the main course looked like lumpy axle grease and tasted like chicken pot pie. I was told that the person that they wanted to ask for help was a mere seventy light-years away- a weeks' travel time for the flying saucer. I didn't try to work out the speed 'cause I'm a roadie for a band, not a physicist.
After we ate, my guide took me down to a lower deck to see my bike. It was going to need everything replaced from the gas tank forward. We're talking big bucks and several weeks work in a shop. I guess I won't be riding it again anytime soon. When I asked why I wasn't hurt worse when the bike was damn near totaled, my guide told me that I had flown off the bike and right into an open cargo bay and landed on a padded floor. Talk about luck- if I'd hit something besides a open doorway I'd of been dead meat.
After I got through cussing over the damage to my bike my guide took me to meet the Captain.
One thing that I noticed- the translator kept giving all the aliens titles instead of names. My guide was called Medic, the head honcho was called Captain, and I also met an alien called Pilot, another called Merchant, and the last one I met was called Trainee. They were all the same sort of tall, insect-looking folks. No one introduced the little wrinkly dudes or called them by anything but numbers. I asked Medic about them, but he said I shouldn't worry about them as individuals since they were a single mind and personality in multiple bodies, sort of a colony creature. I didn't understand, but then these guys are aliens.
The Captain was really polite when we reached the flight deck. We spoke for an hour or so, but all I could really understand was that he (she? it?) was certain that I could help "negotiate" with whoever it was that they wanted help from. I thought it over and decided to help, after all I did owe these guys for fixing me up and I had no really pressing reason to go home. I mean, my woman was pissed at me, my job was kind of dead-ending, and worst of all, my bike was a mess. What did I have to go home to except for more arguments, finding another job, and scraping up money to fix the bike?
As soon as I agreed to help, Pilot started us off on the trip to a star they called Antuth and a planet called Bethdish. I spent the next week teaching Medic and Trainee how to play Blackjack and Poker with a pack of cards from my bikes' saddlebags. Merchant sat in on a few games, but all he wanted to talk about was how to get the rights to market decks of cards from Earth. By the time we got where we were going Trainee was shaping up into a real card shark.
One day, Medic took me up to the flight deck to see us approach our destination. I could see a planet getting larger in the big TV screen that Pilot sat in front of at a control panel that looked like a wrap-around mixing board.
"Captain, I estimate landfall in one hour." said Pilot.
"Excellent, Pilot. Good job. Begin transmitting a signal to the Museum-keeper. Remember to keep us away from the Spaceport, we don't wish to land there. Neither will the Museum-keeper thank us for calling attention to his home. He has gone to some trouble to preserve his privacy." said the Captain.
"Captain, I am receiving several signals. I will exclude each as they are identified. There are many ships orbiting above the planets' Spaceport, with much shuttle traffic to and from those that lack landing abilities. I should be able to shield us from the port authorities. They will be quite busy with traffic, in any case." said Pilot.
I was starting to get bored with the wait when Pilot reported a signal from someone who said they represented the fellow we were looking for. We were told to set a course for a specific area of space and hold a position there. When the aliens weren't busy I butted in and asked what was going on.
"We have reached the specified co-ordinates, Captain and I have established station-keeping. There are no ships in the vicinity, but sensors are showing some strange readings." said Pilot.
"What are we doing here?" I asked.
"I am not certain," said Medic. "We were told to wait here to be contacted. I had expected Captain to have us land near the Museum, but the Museum-keeper seems to have other plans for us."
"Captain," said Pilot, "I am detecting the buildup of some type of force-field surrounding the ship. Sensors indicate that a breathable atmosphere is forming within the field. Fluctuations in the field seem to indicate that we are now undetectable from the planet."
"We are being hidden from the port authorities?" asked the Captain. "Truly, the Museum-keeper must have great technologies at his disposal. Continue station-keeping and restrict sensor scans to the limits of the force-field. I believe we shall soon meet the being that we have sought."
"Or our Maker," muttered Trainee nervously.
"I wish you guys could tell me what's going on." I said. "This is making me nervous."
"We do not know what to tell you," said the Captain, "except that we should be in no danger."
I would have had less trouble believing him if I hadn't been looking out of the windshield and seen the stars blank out like someone turning out a lamp.
"What-" I began.
"Captain," interrupted Pilot, "the field has gone opaque and instrument readings indicate that we are moving at great speed. Moving away from the co-ordinates where we were to wait."
"What is our course and speed?" asked the Captain calmly.
"Course and speed unknown, Captain." said Trainee.
"The field is preventing further sensor readings." said Pilot.
"Continue station-keeping within the force-field."
"Yes, Captain"
"And continue sensor scans, I want to know the instant that we can detect any change in the field."
"Yes, Captain."
"So now we wait some more?" I asked Medic.
"Captain," said Trainee excitedly. "The field is decreasing in strength!"
"Full sensor scan."
"Sensors show that we are at rest inside a very large inclosed area." said Pilot.
"It seems we did not have to wait for long." said Medic, leaning closer to me.
"The field has completely dispersed. Sensors indicate a large number of unfamiliar ships surrounding us. They are all in a powered-down status."
"Thank you, Trainee. Pilot, continue station-keeping."
We were all looking out the windshield when the lights started coming back on. At first, all we could see was a dim gray light that seemed to come from everywhere. As it got brighter, we could see the ships that Trainee had reported.
There were thousands of them, no two alike, and they stretched as far as the eye could see. I thought I could see a wall or something way off beyond the spaceships, but I could have been wrong. If it was a wall, it had to be part of the biggest room I have ever seen 'cause it was at least five miles away. Then I noticed the strobe lights flickering ahead of us, bright as a laser and so blue they were almost unreal. They started in front of us and blinked off towards the wall as if begging us to follow.
"Captain," began Pilot.
"I see them, follow the lights, Pilot. Slowly... Trainee, full sensor sweep of this area. If this is not the Museum, it would behoove us to gain as much knowledge as possible."
The lights led us to a place where the spaceships were clustered less closely. At the end of the path they stopped being dotted lines and became a series of concentric circles, like a target, blinking from the outside toward the center.
"Obviously we are expected to land in the circular area." said the Captain. "Do so, Pilot, then power down the engines. Trainee, test for breathable atmosphere."
"Normal atmosphere and pressure, Captain."
"Landed and powering down, Captain."
About thirty yards away I could see three people waiting. From what I could see, they looked just like normal earth people. I don't know if I was expecting weird aliens or what, but I was relieved just the same.
The Captain looked at me and said: "Come, let us go meet our host. Medic, accompany us. Everyone else will stay in the ship unless I summon you."
I was goggle-eyed as we went down the ramp to the floor. All those ships! There were hundreds of them! The one closest to us looked like a white blur, as if it were a still photograph of something racing past. Another looked like a high-topped running shoe, yet another like an ocean liner. I couldn't possibly see them all, much less describe them. I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and keeping my knees from wobbling as I walked.
I looked at our "hosts" and figured that the one in the middle was the man we came to meet. On his left was a tall, stern-looking guy I wouldn't want to get mad at me and the other was a smiling, crafty-looking guy who reminded me of some concert promoters that I've met. You know, always figuring the angles to make sure he came out with the best part of any business deal. The man in the middle was averaged sized, wearing a gray, collarless suit and dark blue pullover shirt. He stepped forward and returned the Captains' bow.
"Welcome," he said. "I received your message, how is it that I may help you?" He sounded vaguely British. "I am the Collector. It is not often that we receive visitors here in the Museum, but your message spoke of an urgent need. I am flattered that you believe I can be of some assistance. Please excuse the method of transporting you here, but I value my privacy. Thank you for respecting it with your compliance with my instructions."
"I am Captain of the vessel Enquiring Lady," said the Captain. "This is Medic, and this is..."
"Darby, Tom Darby," I said. "Pleased to meet you Mr. Collector."
"Not Mister, thank you. My title is simply Collector," he smiled as if at a private joke. "These are my associates, Maxwell," he said, indicating the stern-looking guy. "And this is Guiles Thornby." Thornby gave a little bow and grinned from ear to ear.
"How can I be of service to you gentlemen?" said the Collector.
"My vessel has committed a crime against this earth-human, Tom Darby." the Captain said as my jaw dropped. "We have caused him injury and taken him away from his world. The injury was accidental, but that is no excuse. We have come to ask for your help to restore him to his proper place and ourselves to ours. We have somehow crossed timelines and entered into a universe that is not our own and in the process we have injured Tom Darby. I pledge myself to your service in exchange for your help in correcting the damage that we have done and for the safe return of Tom Darby to his world and my Crew to their proper timeline. My life is forfeit, if that is the price that you require."
"Oh my giddy Aunt!" said the Collector.
"I don't understand this 'timeline' stuff," I said. We were sitting in a lounge near the spaceship hanger. I was eating the best steak dinner I've had in my life and liking it much than the stuff on the flying saucer.
There was a pretty little woman with long dark-brown hair refilling a buffet table behind me. The Collector had introduced her as Sara when we came into the lounge and then sent Maxwell aboard the flying saucer to have a look at my bike. Thornby was busy studying a small box, like a portable radio, that he pointed out the window toward the saucer.
"It is quite simple, really," said the Collector. "Timelines are based on probability, how different universes have differing histories. When the Captain said that he and his crew had crossed timelines, he meant that they come from a universe that has a different history than the one that you were born into. Sideways in time, so to speak, very similar, but still different. Every time you are faced with a decision, you are faced with a branching of timelines, universes, if you will. You perceive only the one universe, but actually there are an infinite number of them. We call the aggregate of all universes the multiverse. The sum total of all possibilities, so to speak."
"Sounds crazy to me, but I'll take your word for it." I said. "By the way, thank you for dinner."
"Thank Sara K, she is in charge of all the buffets in the entire Museum. No small task, to tell the truth."
"Just how big is this Museum, anyway?"
"That's like asking 'how high is up?' my boy," said the Collector, laughing. "It is as big as I need it to be, or wish it to be. At the moment, it has more square feet of floor space than several planets. It extends into every timeline in the multiverse. Don't ask how, you haven't the maths to understand the explanation. To describe it properly I would have to speak in terms of physics that your planet will never discover, except in a purely basic, limited sense."
"Got them!" Thornby said and reeled off a string of numbers and letters that went way over my head.
"Oh," said the Collector, seeing my confusion. "What Thornby is saying is that he has isolated the exact timeline that your alien friends came from. Guiles, thank you. Now see if you can do the same for our young friend Tom, here."
"I'll scan the his vehicle, I can see Maxwell carrying it out, now"
I looked out the window and gulped. I could see that Maxwell dude carrying my bike on one shoulder like it was a pillow or something. The Collector laughed again.
"Don't worry, Maxwell will take good care of your motorcycle. He is quite good with machinery, being a machine himself."
"How... What?" I gasped.
"Guiles, when you get a fix on the proper timeline, scan backwards to the point of the accident. I want that vehicle repaired to the shape it was in immediately prior to Mr. Darbys' run-in with the Enquiring Lady. Tell Maxwell to expedite the repairs."
"Yes, sir," said Thornby as he left the room.
"Now," said the Collector. "You were saying?"
"Uh, would I understand the answers?"
"Very probably."
"OK, what will happen to my friends? The aliens, I mean? You wouldn't really kill the Captain for me getting hurt, would you?"
"Ah, so that is what is bothering you... No, I don't think that I should. Nor would I willingly make him a slave in exchange for your safe return. I don't work that way."
"But you sent him back to the flying saucer to wait for your decision!"
"Not at all. I made my decision as soon as he asked for your return. Any being who would offer himself up for execution or a life of slavery in order to save his companions and someone he has injured is moral enough to deserve all the help that I can give. I've had dealings with his people before, doubtless that is why he sought me out. They are a noble race of beings, I quite admire them."
"Uh, and Maxwell, he's some kind of robot?"
"Android, actually. He was build by a race of war-mongering aliens as a weapon to infiltrate and conquer other worlds, to add them to their empire. I found him adrift in space long after his builders had become extinct. I repaired him and changed his programing very slightly in order to allow him the freedom to make his own decisions. He decided to seek employment with me and acts as a sort of scout for exhibits for my Museum. Of his own free will, I might add."
"This is getting to be too much," I said, yawning. "Is there someplace I could go and lie down for awhile? My head's spinning."
"Of course, my boy, of course. Sara, do you have a room prepared for our young guest?"
"Need you ask? Of course I do!"
"Would you call a guide for him, if you don't mind?"
"I'll take him myself, I'm sure he doesn't want to follow some little robot around."
"Very good of you, my dear. Thank you. I shall be in my quarters if anyone should need me."
"If you'll come with me, Tom, I'll show you to your room," said Sara as the Collector rose from the table and strode out the door.
Sara led me along several long hallways to a suite of rooms that were bigger than my apartment back home. When she asked if they would be suitable I pointed out that I was used to living in far less comfortable surroundings.
We sat in a comfortably furnished living room and she spoke at length describing the Museum and the Collector. I didn't take me long to figure out that she was in love with him. I asked her endless questions about how things worked in the Museum and what living here was like. I even understood most of her answers.
Eventually though, my eyelids were sagging and she told me that I should get some sleep. As she was leaving she pointed out an intercom on one wall and told me that when I woke up to call her and she would have someone see about fixing a breakfast for me. After that, all I can remember was shuffling to the king-sized bed and climbing in. I don't remember my head hitting the pillow.
My wristwatch showed it was almost fourteen hours later when I was stunned into awareness by the loudest alarm that I've ever heard in my life. I staggered to the intercom and fumbled with its' controls for ten minutes before I finally got an answer.
I didn't like the answer.
I didn't like it at all because it was bad news and chilled me to the bone. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes and offered to help in any way that I could if someone would just come and get me. The sharp, metallic voice on the intercom said that all of the Museum staff was being mobilized and someone would be sent to take me to the Collector as soon as possible.
I ran for the bathroom, took a quick cold shower, and dressed as fast as I could. I was standing in the living room checking the chambers of my derringer for the third time and praying that I would get a chance to use it when my guide showed up. I was too mad to pay any attention to the fact that my guide was a basketball-sized sphere that sprouted half a dozen antennas and spoke with a deep, resounding voice.
It led me to a set of stairs that I hadn't seen before, up one flight of steps, and straight into a room with huge TV screens covering all of the walls. All of the people that I had met the night before were there, plus a few more that I'd never seen before. I could still hear the voice from the intercom echoing over and over again in my head as I marched up to the Collector, offered him my help, and told him I wasn't going to take "No" for an answer.
While I was asleep, someone or something had broken into the Museum, busted up a few exhibits, and taken a hostage with them when they escaped. Sara K had been kidnapped.
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