Bunkum by Peony D Beckside

 (A remarkable standalone story by Peony D Beckside - Tracker)

Bunkum?

 

Peony D. Beckside

 

 

This story references two distinct fictional worlds, created by two very different authors.  The first is the world envisaged by Anne McCaffrey in her book Restoree.  Basing on the premise that the heroine of that story, is returning to Earth as part of a diplomatic and trading mission.  The second is the series of books ostensibly authored by ‘John Norman’, set in the world of Gor.  It is not directly set in either of those worlds, only relating to an enquiry as to whether one of those worlds could exist in reality.

Contents

Lady Sara’s Introduction...................................... 1

 

Mr Gibson’s Investigation................................... 7

The Astrophysicists........................................... 7

The Authors....................................................... 9

Interpol and Other Enquiries........................... 13

The Search For Flying Saucer’s...................... 14

 

The Report......................................................... 17

 

The Letter........................................................... 20

 

Lady Sara’s Epilogue......................................... 21

 

Lady Sara’s Introduction.

“Lady Sara to the Control Room, please!”

The announcement has a hint of urgency about it.  I scoot up some five decks of the space vessel and along the corridor until I find the door.  I enter.  The viewing screen is in front of me.  What am I seeing?  The Sun, yes.  This close to Earth, I’d expect that.  Initially, I see two planets, set diametrically opposite each other.  Clearly then, what I’m seeing is an alignment peculiarity.  One of the planets is Earth, and the other, seen beyond must be Venus.

“There you are, Sara.  I thought that you said that there were only four planets circling this star, inside the asteroid belt?”

Harlan’s question puzzles me, but also terrifies me.  Have we got the wrong star, the wrong solar system?  Has everything that I have done for the last six years been a total waste?  No, it can’t be.  The eccentrically orbiting, Pluto, the gas giants Neptune and Uranus, had all been noted.  We’d had a real good look at Saturn with its rings and studied Jupiter’s red-spot.  The Asteroid Belt yielded a chunk of rock, rich in heavy metals, which alone might pay for this trip!  No, we have to be in the right place, so what is Harlan babbling on about?

“I’m not sure what you are saying, love.  Surely, it’s just an alignment issue, an unusual line-of-sight with Earth and Venus.”

Yes, Harlan is my love.  How I met him and how he became special to me is not relevant here.  He is my husband, or at least what is considered to be so, by the social mores, on his planet.  Me? I am the survivor; the one in some 5 million people kidnapped from Earth by mutual enemies of both our planets.  How I lived, when everyone else died, is not something that my brain could handle.  I still can’t remember that part of my journey, or perhaps subconsciously I don’t want to.  I was too busy to indulge in the self-pity of survivor-guilt; the why-me?, what makes me so worthy?, self examinations.

Harlan is a rich man, an important man.  For the last five years I’ve lived in a Palace, just like a Duchess!  Nothing’s too good for me.  That doesn’t mean, that I’ve been lazy and indolent.  Just the opposite!  Harlan, being ever one to explore, has sufficient influence to ‘borrow’ our ship from the Warlord.  Me, he had running ragged, learning how to survive in a completely different culture, writing up everything that I knew about Earth and its culture.  After that, and when my knowledge of the language was good enough, trying to teach some forty students, the English language and culture that will be essential to the success of this mission.  God!  Some nights I was so exhausted that even Harlan’s attempts to ignite my passion failed!

“No, Sara.  Look,  Here is the one you call Mercury.  This one is Venus.  We are already past Mars.  One of these two must be your Earth.  But what’s the other?”

I must look blank.

“These two seem to be in the same orbit as one another, just on the opposite side of the star.  Is it possible that since the other planet would never be visible from your planet no-one on your Earth is aware of it?”

My brain is beginning to work again.

“I can’t see how.  Surely the other planet would have gravitational effects on all of the nearby planets.  The scientists would surely have picked up on those and hypothesised such a world,  There’s been no probes sent out to check, that I’m aware of.  I doubt too, that multiple Governments, could jointly hide the possibility of another planet in the ‘Goldilocks-zone[1]’ of our own star.  It’s a puzzle”

“So, lovely Sara, Which do we head for?  Which is Earth?”

“Can this viewscreen zoom-in on each?  Can we see more detail?”

“Sure!”

Harlan issues the relevant orders.  The screen shifts focus and zooms in on the planet to the right.  Whilst it’s not yet possible to identify surface features, there’s something wrong.  There’s no moon.  Correction there is, there are two, possibly even three, but they are smaller and more irregular than the familiar single moon seen by earth-dwellers.  This is not Earth, unless there’s been a cataclysm while I’ve been away.

“I’m pretty sure that this is not Earth.  You are recording this, aren’t you, Harlan?  Noting everything?”

“Absolutely, Sara!”

“Can we look at the other planet now?”

The view-screen pulls out, focuses on the left-hand planet, and zooms back in.  My trepidation is eased when I see the single moon, some one-sixth the size of Earth.

“This one looks more promising.  It’s only got one moon, and that one is quite large.  Can we head towards this one, please?  I can’t be absolutely certain until we can get a look at the outlines of the land-masses.”

The viewscreen zooms back out, but the alignment changes.  The left-hand planet comes to the centre of the screen; the Sun and the other planet move over to the right of the screen.  As we approach, I begin to see land and sea shapes.  Yes, this is Earth.  I am mightily relieved.

 

Harlan and I are sitting in a makeshift office at the edge of Wellington’s main airport.  We are talking with the Prime Minister of New Zealand.  There is an aide present.  He’s taking notes.  We’ve had the formal welcoming ceremony, with its panoply of Ambassadors and plenipotentiaries from many nations.  The shuttle craft from our main spacecraft sits outside ready to take Harlan and I back to the ship.  Why New Zealand?  They speak English, or a form of it.  Their cities are of a liveable size; not overwhelming like some of the American cities, or London for that matter  Also, to their credit, they are not prepared to be bullied by bigger, more powerful nations, witness their standing up to France over the Rainbow Warrior affair.

It’s as good a place to base a trading hub as any, and the New Zealanders will benefit economically.  I’m savouring a good strong cup of coffee.  It’s been over six years since my last one.  We’ve been discussing several practical matters relating to our presence.  Such matters as immigration, shore-leave for our crew, resupply of our ship, etc. have been settled.  The thorny matter of protecting New Zealand’s unique flora and fauna, being the most difficult.  We have however now got a working basis.  The Prime Minister has agreed to loan us a liaison officer, a former cabinet member.  Someone who knows the right people to contact for this and that, one who knows how to get things done as smoothly as possible.  It’s a good move for the Prime Minister.  He has eyeballs on us, can tell him that we are not a threat, and that we are genuine in our aims and purposes.

I’m reluctant to finish my coffee, and hope to angle for another.  Now is as good a time to ask.  A Prime Minister is an important man in any country.  It’ll be some time, if ever before we get to speak to the US President, the Premier of Russia or the Chairman of the Chinese Communist Party.

“Prime Minister, being in such an important position as yours, you must have access to information that’s not generally available to the public at large…”

He inclines his head in acknowledgement.

“…I find it frankly incredible that Earth’s scientists have not found a discovery of the kind of magnitude as to change the perspective of the human race…”

The Prime Minister looks puzzled.  What am I talking about?

“...Why then is officialdom hiding the presence of another planet on the far side of the Sun, from the public?”

The aide drops the pad and pen he’s using to make notes.  He almost shouts the word ‘No!’  Then in an undertone ‘Gor?’  The Prime Minister is clearly genuinely shocked.  It’s the PM who recovers first.  His face mutates into a grin.

“Good Joke, Lady Sara!  You almost had me believing it!  It’s good to know that you people have a sense of humour!”

The aide however is looking at me with fascination.  He’s clearly keen to catch the whole of this conversation.  Harlan responds.

“No joke, Prime Minister.”

The PM’s smile vanishes.  Harlan lifts the communicator device on his wrist to his mouth.

“Cranko, return to the ship.  Troster, have the solido-view record of the other planet sent down in another shuttle, at once, please.”

Harlan issues the orders in English, to reassure the PM of our honest dealings.  Fortunately Troster and Cranko, are two of my better students.  Their command of English, while not perfectly fluent, is at least functional.

“The record should be here in about fifteen of your Earth minutes, perhaps twenty.  We’ve not yet fully adjusted our time with yours.”

The aide interjects.  The PM gives him a black-look.

“This planet?  It’s slightly smaller than earth?  Slightly closer to the Sun?  Has three moons?”

The PM rebukes the aide, frostily.

“You have something to add to this conversation, Mr Gibson?  You know something of this matter?”

“Perhaps, Prime Minister, but if true, the implications are fantastic and far reaching.  Please, Ambassador, Lady Sara, am I right in my speculation?”

“You are right, Mr Gibson.  It has all three of those attributes.  Please explain how you knew.”

“If that’s so, Ambassador, no-one should go there until further enquiries are made.  It could be dangerous.  Anyone sent, may not come back.  You definitely should not send any women, if you do.”

The PM is definitely interested now.

“What do you know?, Mr Gibson, and how do you know?”

“It’ll sound ridiculous, but please hear me out.  Do you remember that in the early days of modern astronomy, little was known about the planet Mars.  Edgar Rice Burroughs, set a whole series of fantasy novels on the planet.  Real sword & sandal, hokum.  Science finally debunked the possibility of human life on Mars, without bio-domes etc.  When I was young, there were on the bookshelves, a similar series of speculative fiction based on a mythical planet called Gor, which we could never see, because it was perpetually beyond the sun from us.  According to the putative author, it too was slightly smaller than Earth, slightly closer to the sun, and had three moons.  With your permission, Prime Minister?”

Mr Gibson indicates to a chair, and the coffee pot.  The PM nods his acceptance.

“Can I have another coffee, too, please Mr Gibson?”

“Certainly, Lady Sara.”

The youngish man sits and continues his tale.

“According to the books there are three main forms of intelligent life.  There are Priest Kings, who are of very large insectoid form.  They are indigenous to Gor.  They are highly intelligent, rational and technically advanced.  They have the ability to control gravity, which is why there are no apparent anomalies in the orbits of the other planets, caused by Gor’s presence.  The Priest Kings do not wish the people of Earth to know of the existence of Gor, except perhaps in a form whereby no one will take that existence seriously.  Over millennia they have taken humans from many different era’s and cultures, from Earth and established them on Gor.  The humans live in a pre-industrial society.  The Priest Kings, deeming humans to not yet be rational…  Judging from Earth, perhaps they are right.  They enforce anti-technology edicts, ruthlessly.  They are quite capable of shooting down a spacecraft approaching the planet.  Hence, why no-one should approach the planet until we have established that the stories are complete bunkum.”

Mr Gibson takes a breath.  I ask a question.

“I see your reasoning, Mr Gibson, but why were you so emphatic about not sending any women?”

“Assuming any such survive being vaporised in an attack on their craft by Priest Kings, or survive the resultant crash, then they inevitably would become slaves.  Slavery, and particularly slavery of women, is endemic and deeply rooted in Gorean culture.  In recent millennia, a third intelligent species has appeared.  It threatens Gor, and Earth.  It’s only the work of the Priest Kings and their agents that Earth as well as Gor are safe from these predators.  The Kur, Kurii in plural, is a very large furry, six-digited carnivore.  It’s senses are far more acute than those of humans.  It is very difficult to kill.  It is not averse to eating humans, but will eat almost any animal flesh.  It is highly intelligent and technologically advanced.  It is an interloper to our Solar System.  Having destroyed its own planet, it’s now based in a serious of Iron-worlds; cylindrical habitats, beyond the orbit of Jupiter, though now perhaps as close as the Asteroid Belt.  You didn’t come across anything like that as you passed, did you?”

“No, sorry.”

“The Kurii have their eyes on conquering both Gor and Earth, though Gor is favoured, being less polluted than Earth.  Priest Kings consider Kur and Man to be equivalent species, neither being preferable to the other. Any Kur, therefore, stranded or sent to Gor, is subject to the same anti-technology strictures as men, though they have been known to smuggle forbidden technology to Gor; for example, the occasional high-powered sniper’s rifle.  They have agents on Earth who are active in the enslaving and shipping to Gor, of intelligent and beautiful women.  The buying and selling of women providing a ready source of income for Kurii agents on Gor.  This activity perhaps explaining some of the UFO stories in recent decades.  In a nutshell, that’s really about it.”

Mr Gibson gratefully takes a swig of coffee.  There is an interruption by one of the PM’s bodyguards.

“Second spacecraft just landed, Prime Minister.”

“Very good, Frank.  Pass through the courier when they have de-planed.”

“Right, Sir!”

The rather diminutive woman, Troster, is admitted.  She passes what appears to be a small cube to Harlan.

“Thanks Troster.  Please wait with the shuttle.  We’ll need you to take the Lady Sara and I back to the ship, when we’ve finished here.”

There is an acknowledgement, but not in English.  Harlan places the cube on a low table between us all, and activates it.  Some three feet in front of the cube, is a 3D moving projection showing the approach towards the sun, which swings towards the other planet.  The recording zooms in until it is clear that the planet has three moons.  At which time it zooms back out, before zooming in on Earth.  There is a pause while the PM and Mr Gibson take in the import of what’s been shown them.  Mr Gibson’s eyes show fascination and perhaps excitement.  The PM, being a political animal, has a sly look on his face.

“An interesting tale of yours, Mr Gibson.  As you say, probably balderdash, but given how close you were in describing similar physical characteristics of the planet, perhaps it’d be worth our while ensuring that it is just that. It behoves us as a species to find out about this place, even if the rest is, as you say, bunkum.  It would be a great coup to go to the Americans, the Russians, the Chinese with their much vaunted space programs, and tell them that for all these decades, they’ve got it wrong.  Tell me, Mr Gibson, how would one go about proving or disproving that these stories are pure fantasy with no basis in truth?  Ideally, in a manner that doesn’t make the New Zealand government look as if we have gone crazy.”

Mr Gibson thinks for a moment.

“Firstly, whoever you allocate needs to approach some of the world’s best astrophysicists with this as a hypothetical exercise.  The following questions should be asked:  If there were another planet with these characteristics, what effect would that have on the movements of the other planets?  If any, what kind of forces would be necessary to counteract those effects?  Can there be a theoretical way that such forces could be produced, naturally?  If not, can they propose a manufactured method by which such effects can be negated?”

Mr Gibson pauses, and finishes his cup of coffee.

“Secondly, the putative author of these books needs to be asked, either under lie-detector test, or pentothal, whether he is the actual author; and if not, who does actually write them.  The same applies to any such person that he does name, until we can be sure that the books have an earthly source.  We should also ask if any amendments have been made to the books, for example, have any of the names mentioned been changed.”

Another pause.

“Thirdly, it would be necessary to try and trace Jason Marshall, Elinor Brinton and a dozen or more others, or whatever they originally were called, to ascertain their existence and whether they disappeared in mysterious circumstances.  This is particularly important with regard to one Tarl Cabot, or under what if any, other name; the hero of most of the stories exists, or existed.  He needs tracing particularly in the city of Bristol, England, and at small liberal-arts colleges in New England, where he supposedly taught, very briefly.”

Mr Gibson clears his throat.

“Fourthly, enquiries need to be made with Interpol as to statistical anomalies with regard to the disappearance of significant numbers of young women, in place or time, including such things as socio-economic standing.  Whilst women do often disappear, particularly into brothels or to the depredations of predatory men, the numbers talked of in the books should show up in the figures.”

The aide, without asking permission pours himself another coffee, and offers the pot around to all there.

“And finally, fifthly, it would be necessary to investigate the thorny issue of UFO[2]’s as the craft described as used by Priest Kings and Kurii, would definitely come under such a heading if detected at all.  This would be difficult, given that the superpowers often hide their own aircraft design experiments under the cover of so-called ‘alien’ flights.”

There is a brief silence as each there takes in what’s been said.  Mr Gibson breaks it.

“I say again, that until these questions have been answered, there should be no attempt to explore this world.  If any try it, they should do so using unmanned probes, and such should monitor those probes to note if and where such suddenly cease to operate.  Any manned exploration, before the stories have been thoroughly debunked, should ensure that the personnel have put their affairs in order, and are proficient in the use of edged weapons; swords, axes, spears, lances, arrows, etc. to be on the safe side.”

“Thank you, Mr Gibson.  I shall expect your report on this matter within two months.  That’ll give you enough time, do you think?”

“What?!  Sorry Prime Minister, I wasn’t volunteering for this assignment.  There must be someone more qualified than I!”

“I can’t think of anyone.  Besides, no-one else would have their heart in it, or the knowledge that you seem to have, of the subject.  Hand your duties over to your deputy, and begin immediately.”

Secretly I snigger.  For a ministerial aide, I would have expected him to be able to avoid talking himself into a job such as this.  However, he did seem very animated about the subject.  Perhaps, in his heart he would like the stories he talks of to be true.  I just hope that he does not lose the dispassion necessary for a true report.  Mr Gibson’s shoulders drop in resignation.

“Very good, Prime Minister.  I’m going to need resources, money…  Some of the scientists and others may need encouraging to drop what they are currently doing, to take this on.”

“You will have a budget of five million New Zealand dollars.  Come and see me with a progress report, if you need more.  Every cent is to be accounted for.  If you need aliases, equipment, etc., see the Security Services.  Try not to let this project get out of hand, and remember it must be carried out in absolute secrecy until we are ready to go public, or otherwise.  That’ll be all for now, Mr Gibson.”

Clearly dismissed, Mr Gibson leaves.

“You will let us see Mr. Gibson’s report before publication, or burial of it, won’t you, Prime Minister?”

“Certainly, Ambassador!  I’m going to be relying on your enhanced space-faring to help us explore this new world, when Mr Gibson has proved that the stories are the nonsense that they undoubtedly are.  I think we can wait a couple of months before going off exploring.”

He’s clever is this Prime Minister, but then to become so, he would have to be.  He’s still not convinced that this other planet exists.  By expecting us to help him, he’s making us, to use the vernacular, ‘put up or shut-up’.  And if there genuinely is this other planet, then he ‘steals a march’ on the ‘Big boys’ of Earth politics.

“Ambassador, Lady Sara, are you available to attend a formal banquet of welcome, in three days time? Say, 7PM, at my official residence?”

Harlan nods, giving me the cue to accept.

“Why, thank you, Prime Minister!  It’s been a long time since I attended an event where I could ‘glam-up’ for the evening.  We accept.

Mr Gibson’s Investigation

The Astrophysicists

I thought that I was too smart to talk myself into a ‘wild goose chase’, which is what this one will likely turn out to be. However, at heart, I’m excited at the possibility.  Whether I want to admit it, the tales of Gor that I read when barely out of childhood, did fascinate me.  Whether it was the heroic daring-do, or the eroticism of female slavery that spoke to my prepubescent self, I don’t know.  Perhaps both.  Now, I see that the books are not particularly sophisticated or well written.  The later ones are little more than pot-boilers.  Well written or not, there’s still an intriguing naive charm to them.  It’s like coming home to a place one grew up in.

Upon leaving the meeting between the Prime Minister and the interstellar Ambassador and his, as I understand it, wife; the legalities not being quite clear, I immediately ordered up a top quality laptop computer and an e-book reader.  Downloading the full series of Gor ‘novels’ to both devices, effectively gave me the base library that I would need.  It’s a long flight from New Zealand to the United Kingdom.  An overnight stay at Singapore did help, but jet-lag is still a problem on such long flights.  Consider it homework, but suffice it to say that by the time I got to London, I’d devoured the first two of the works; Tarnsman of Gor, and Outlaw of Gor; and was well on with Priest Kings of Gor.  Using a notepad and pen, I jotted down anything that I thought relevant to my quest.  The descriptions of how the original manuscripts came to be available, being particularly important.  I expect however, that such will prove to be mere McGuffin’s, when I confront ‘John Norman’ the putative author.  Clearly, with such an innocuous name, it’s a pseudonym.  Wikipedia, the free online encyclopedia, indicates the name of the person believed to use this nom de plume.

Hiring a car at Heathrow Airport, I drove north from London to the university city of Cambridge, putting up at a reasonably priced hotel.  If the PM is keeping a beady eye on my expenses, I don’t want to be too profligate.  Besides, I don’t know how long or how expensive this investigation will be.  Economy at the beginning, may be wise.  I did briefly consider using this exercise as a ‘ramp’; a corrupt exploitation, putting a goodly sum into my own bank accounts.  I rejected this.  Firstly, I think that the PM is grooming me for higher office.  I don’t want to jeopardise that.  Secondly, in my heart, I want to believe that the new planet is Gor.  The investigation therefore must be thorough.  I will however not allow wishful thinking to cloud reason.  I must be sure that the stories have no basis in fact before I close the investigation down, and report so.

I have an appointment to see a Professor Dowling at one of the colleges in the city.  I’ve not had much time to research this academic, other than to learn that he is top-grade in his field of astrophysics.  This is the first such astrophysicist that I’m planning on utilising for this quest.  I’ve plans to meet five others, one in Canada, one at the Kennedy Space Centre, in Florida, two in Houston and one at Stanford University in California.  Half a dozen is a small enough number to control, yet large enough to iron-out any inconsistencies.  Theoretically, all of them should come up with broadly similar conclusions, but people being people, it doesn’t do any harm to check each against the others.

Enquiring at hotel Reception, I am directed to the college in question.  I approach the Porter’s Lodge.  The Porter at such venerable institutions being a kind of receptionist, guard, and watchman.  He picks up a telephone and dials a number.  Satisfied that I am genuinely expected, he directs me to the chambers of Professor Dowling.  I am met by a smartly dressed middle aged woman.  Her business suit would not be out of place in any corporate office.  Clearly another receptionist.

“I’m here to see Professor Dowling.  Is he in?  I have an appointment…”

I see amusement in her eyes.

“You are Jeremiah Gibson, of ZN Games, electronic game designers?”

Such is the affiliation that I have chosen to use, for security and to mask that my mission is for the New Zealand government.  The company is genuine in that it exists.  It, however never has and never will produce a single video game.  I’d set the company up before leaving Wellington.

“That’s me,  I’m a kind of all purpose research liaison, for the actual developers.  They ask a question, I get them the answers.  Professor Dowling is in?…”

“How can I help you Mr Gibson?  I’m Professor Dowling, Helen Dowling.”

“Whoops!  I’m sorry Professor.  I didn’t have much time to study you, other than to skim your record of published papers.”

She laughs

“I often get that reaction.  Especially as most of the faculty here do ‘look the part’.  What brings you to me?”

I begin my spiel.

“ZN Games is a new entrant in the video games market, but we aim to be the best, to become a household name in due course.  It is our avowed intent that any product that we make shall be believably plausible.  Within the context of the basic premise, the normal rules of physics in such a situation, must be obeyed.  For example, we do not have ordinary humans doing superhuman stunts on heavy gravity worlds. ”

She nods as if in understanding.

“We are currently working on a project that needs some ‘planetary modelling’.  In order to satisfy our mission to make it theoretically possible, we need to postulate to you a theorem and the difficulties with it, to see if you can resolve those difficulties.”

She thinks briefly.

“What do you have in mind?”

I outline the concept of another planet beyond the sun, the difficulties of fitting this into the current model of the solar system, the gravitational issues and how to overcome such.

“Interesting concept, but it’s been done before; perhaps without your diligence as to plausibility.  I recall seeing a film once by Gerry and Sylvia Anderson, the puppeteers behind Thunderbirds, etc.  I forget what it was called.  This was live-action as against marionation.  Spacemen sent on a year long mission to the far side of the sun, apparently return after six months, but they haven’t.  They’ve landed on a mirror-image planet of Earth.”

Doesn’t sound as if this option needs much investigation, given the physical differences of the putative planet on the recording the Ambassador and his wife showed us.

“I’ve never heard of that one before.  I’d better check it out in case there are copyright issues.  Thank you.  So if you were to do this planetary simulation and its effects, how long would it take, do you think?  We would pay well.”

“A month, six weeks, perhaps.  However, I’m not really sure, though, that working on this theorem is for me…  There is far more interesting work for me to do.  I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to attend a grant application interview.”

I see a wedge, a way to perhaps change her mind.

“Tell me about this grant application.  How much have you applied for and for what research?”

The one thing that academics always struggle for is resources, someone prepared to give a grant for whatever research the academic wants to undertake.

“I’m not sure that’s any of your business, but I want £10,000, to study the anomalous effects of a black-hole near Epsilon Cygnii.”

“This study, would take a few months, I would imagine?”

“About six, but with a watching brief for two years.”

“This black-hole is stable?  It just has odd gravitational effects, and has had for some time?”

“Yes.  It’s quite a fascinating conundrum.”

I make my pitch.

“Interesting!  ZN Games would fund that work for you.  Say £15,000 in the first year and £2000, in each of the subsequent years.  All we’d ask is that you work on our theorem first, and do so diligently.  After all, if the black-hole is stable, what’s a month, a couple of months?”

I see the avarice.  A larger grant just ‘walked in through the door’, no having to justify the benefits of the research.  She decides quickly.

“You are serious, aren’t you?  I thought that this was some kind of wind-up.  Done!”

“Excellent.  Where shall we remit the funds, please?”

She provides the bank details.  I give her a précis as to the characteristics of this supposed ‘theoretical’ world and its moons.  I also give her my newly-minted business card, showing my mobile telephone number.

“I shall call you in four weeks to check progress.  If your report is ready before that, please call me.  I’ll need two copies of the report.  One to be sent to my office.  The address is on the card.  I’ll give you an address then, as to where to send the other.  I thank you for your time, and look forward to reading your report.”

Similar conversations,take place when I approach the other five astrophysicists.  A couple of them were between research studies and needing a new challenge.  They were the keenest, and the cheapest to hire.

 

The Authors

The man is on time.  At least, he’s consistent in his routine.  I stand before him and flip the badge and ID card, just like they do on the American cop TV shows.  This is very naughty and in most countries illegal.  It could be construed as ‘impersonating a Police Officer’.  The fact that the badge design and the organisation on the ID card don’t equate to any actual law enforcement organisation, might not save me.  I could get into a lot of trouble if this goes badly.  Two big hefty men have quietly moved up behind  the man.

“Jack Large?  Please come with us.  You are not in any trouble, but we must ask you some questions.”

“What?”

“It will only take a short amount of time.  It will be worth your while, I assure you.”

The rear door of the car next to us opens.  The burly men hustle Mr Large into the car.  I get into the front passenger seat and the car moves off.  This may be considered kidnap, but the chances of us being caught are slim.  If we do this right, there will be no complaint, or charge.

“What’s this all about?  What was your name, again?  Who do you work for?”

“Patience, Mr Large.  Be calm.  You are in no danger.  As for my name, it’s not necessary for you to know it.  Nor can you infer from my accent who I work for.  There’s lots of ‘false-flag’ recruiting in my game.”

The car enters an opened garage door in an insalubrious warehouse.  The four of us, excluding the driver, pass through a side door into a functional but basic office.

“Please sit, Mr Large.  Coffee?”

Jack Large nods an acquiescence.  On of the beefy men places a cup before an anxious Mr Large.

“Mr Large, we need to know the truth behind information that, on the face of it, is well known.  There is no place for equivocation.  We need to be absolutely sure about certain things.  We are not trying to trap you.  We are not interested in disputing your financial rights.  We are not trying to take anything away from you, or to stop you benefiting in the future.”

Mr Large looks on sceptically.

“What we want of you is to put certain questions to you under lie-detection equipment, or Sodium Pentothal, truth-drug, in the vernacular.  Your choice.  In exchange for an hour of your time in this regard, you will leave here with five thousand dollars, in cash.  Untraceable, untaxable...  In addition, depending upon what you tell us, you might find that in future, your writings may begin to bring in greater rewards than presently.”

At the talk of money, Mr Large looks on with interest.  I place the five thousand dollars, in used ten and twenty dollar notes, on the table in front of him.

“Ten thousand dollars.”

I laugh.  He’s got us ‘over a barrel’, and knows it.  This is clearly important enough to us for us not to nitpick.  It’s still inside the amount set aside in my budget.

“Agreed.  Five now.  Five upon completion of the series of questions.  We’d prefer to do this by lie detector.  Less danger of an allergic reactions to Pentothal.  Agreed?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Excellent,  Please remove your shirt.”

As he does, I signal to one of the men, who leaves the room.  The driver, who’s also skilled in the use of lie detector equipment, enters with his machine and accoutrements, on a trolley.  He places this behind Mr Large,  He comes round to the front and begins to attach electrodes to various parts of Mr Large’s torso and arms.  When he’s finished, he sits on a stool behind his read-out.  He nods to me.

“I don’t want you to be offended at the first two or three questions.  They are merely to establish a base-line.  You understand?”

Mr Large nods.

“Good.  From now on, please answer verbally and clearly.  Are you homosexual?”

“Yes.”

I look at the operator, he shakes his head.

“Naughty, naughty, Mr Large.  That was a lie.  At least we know the machine is working.  Now, have you ever stolen anything?”

This is a fairly safe question, I doubt there’s anyone anywhere who hasn’t at some time stolen something.

“No.”

A shake of the head, from the operator

“Your name is Jack Large?”

The operator nods.

“Now Mr Large, I don’t see how I can ask the questions that I must, without giving away my reasons for asking.  Some allowance in your reactions will be given, but the equipment is sensitive enough to still be accurate in telling truth from lie.”

I take a pause.  Mr Large, is clearly beginning to realise that lies are now pointless.

“You use the pseudonym ‘John Norman’, Mr Large?”

“Yes.”

That gets a nod.

“Are you actually the author of the Gor series of books?”

“No.  But I have the right to the royalties.”

“I’m sure you do, and I do not dispute your right to them.”

“You transcribe the books that someone else provides?  Tidies them up, puts in the correct punctuation, etc.?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever significantly changed anything in the books, particularly the names of the people or places mentioned?”

“No.”

“You are provided with the original manuscript?”

“Yes.”

“Do you keep it after you’ve transcribed it?”

“No, it goes back to the original source.”

I wonder if he truly knows what the original source is?  That’s what I truly want to find out.

“Who provides you with the manuscripts?”

“Harrison Smith.”

That tallies with what the first two or three books say of how the books come to be known of on Earth.  The question is, is Harrison Smith the author?  Is Harrison Smith his real name?  I ask this latter question of Mr Large.

“As far as I know.  I have no reason to think otherwise.”

“How do I get hold of this Harrison Smith?”

“I’m not sure that I want to tell you.  What’s this all about?”

Suddenly his brain puts it all together.  Call it intuition, if you like.  The machine operator is trying to get my attention.  Presumably Mr. Large's body is showing excitement through the electrodes.

“You are trying to get to the source of the books!  Why?  You’ve found something!  Something that makes you think there might be some truth to the books!  Surely you don’t think that the books are real?  That’s what it’s all about!  You think that Gor really exists, and are trying to confirm that!”

“Calm yourself, Mr Large.  We do have reason to wonder if Gor does exist for real, and yes, we are trying to confirm that fact.  Now please, let us finish the questions.  I will answer most of your questions once we are finished.  Now tell me how to contact Harrison Smith.  We mean him no harm, as we mean you no harm.  If this investigation turns up anything of significance, then both he and you could come out of it very well indeed.  I will need to talk to Harrison Smith, under similar conditions as I am talking to you.  You will not attempt to contact him, or warn him in any way.”

I see from his expression, that that’s precisely what he intends.  I’ll have to convince him otherwise after the questioning is done.

“Don’t spoil it, now, Mr Large.  We will be as generous to Harrison Smith as we are with you.  Now tell us how to find him.”

Realising that one way or another we will find Harrison Smith, he gives us the information.  The rest of the questions are essentially of minor importance.  The operator unhooks the electrodes from Mr Large, who puts his shirt back on.

“Mr Large, we are still early on in our investigation.  Yes, there is the potential for Gor to exist, but it is only that.  I promise you that should we find that there is truth to the stories you’ve been putting out, you will be informed.  You for your part will not impede our investigation.  That includes contacting or warning Harrison Smith in any way, that we wish to talk to him.  If the stories were to be found to be true, you and Mr Smith could become very wealthy indeed.  Any leakage, before I tell you, or the story breaks, and it will be your beneficiaries who become wealthy.  Do I make myself clear?”

Mr Large begins to look worried.

“You may prepare a repackaging of the Gor books if you wish, but such must not, in any way, say or imply that there is any truth to the stories.  Alternatively you can wait.  If  there is any truth to the stories, and I give you the go-ahead, or an announcement is made, then and only then may you say or imply that the books are believed to be true.  That clear?”

“Sure!”

I see he has accepted the fait accompli.

“Here’s the remaining five thousand dollars, I owe you.  I thank you for your time and information.  Can my driver drop you anywhere?”

“Yes, my apartment, please.”

I give the orders.

“You won’t forget my warning, will you, Mr Large?”

“No.  I’ll give you time to investigate.”

“If there’s truly nothing in it, I’ll tell you.  If there is, likewise, you will be informed.  One way or the other, you will be told, and can take the situation from there.  Just don’t ‘jump the gun’.  It could be fatal.

 

“Mr Harrison Smith?”

The taking of Mr Smith is similar to that of Mr Large.  Mr Smith is a quieter man.  Less bombastic that Mr Large.  He seems willing to help, to cooperate.  He’s happy to take the lie detector test and doesn’t attempt to demand more than the five thousand dollars offered.  The questions asked of him are similar to those asked of Mr Large, but subtly altered to allow for the difference in the chain of transmission of the stories.

“Are you the author of the Gor series of books, Mr Smith?”

“No.”

“You do not use the name ‘John Norman’ as a pseudonym?”

“No.”

“You pass the manuscripts of the Gor books to Mr Jack Large?”

“Yes.”

“Does he pay you for them?”

“I don’t want or ask for any money for them.”

“Why?”

“It’s little enough that I can do for my friend, to bring his stories and those of others to the people of Earth, even if they don’t believe them.”

“You believe them?”

“Yes.”

“Your friend is Tarl Cabot?”

“Yes.”

“He exists?  You have met him?”

“Yes, as mentioned at the beginning of ‘Outlaw of Gor’.”

“You believe Tarl Cabot to be on the planet Gor?”

“Yes.”

“And he, it is who transmits the books to you?”

“I don’t know who transmits them to me.  Whoever it is, can enter my locked apartment without any sign as to how they get in.  Given that some of the books have no mention of, Tarl Cabot or any link to him.  I cannot know.”

“Who do you surmise does send them?”

“The Priest Kings, or their agents.”

“You believe such beings exist?”

“Yes.”

“You provide the original manuscripts to Mr Large?”

“You make no changes to the manuscripts.  No name changes?”

“None.”

“Mr Large returns the manuscripts to you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you still have the manuscripts?  All of them?”

“Yes?”

“Here?”

“Only one.  The rest are in a bank vault.”

“May we see the manuscript you hold?”

“Certainly.”

“You’d have no problem if we took a small sample of the paper and ink, for chemical analysis?”

“Not really, as long as the story itself stays intact.  Losing a full-stop at the very end, wouldn’t be a problem.”

Mr Smith smiles.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You can ask.”

“Do you begin to believe that Gor exists?”

“I don’t see how it can, but I am charged to investigate, in case it does.  You understand why it is important that you say nothing of this investigation, this questioning, until we are ready to make our report?”

“Certainly!  I’ll say nothing to anyone, on the proviso that you send me a copy of your report.  A full, unexpurgated one.”

“Very well.  But why, apart from curiosity?”

“Being the conduit for the stories, there are those that would question my sanity.  I would like to know whether I am the butt of an elaborate hoax, or whether the likelihood of Gor existing, the stories being real, is high.”

“Not to bolster publicity for yourself?”

“How little you know me, Mr Gibson.  I want nothing more than a quiet insignificant life.  I want no publicity.  I would have liked to go to Gor, if it truly exists.  Tarl made it clear I could not go with him.  That is my one regret.”

“Thank you, Mr Smith.  That’s all for now.  If we have any further questions, we can contact you again?”

“Not a problem.”

“Now, about that paper and ink sample…?”

“Give me a minute, and I’ll get it for you.  The manuscript has been published, so there’s no new information in it, that’s not been promulgated, other than, as you say what may be learned from analysing the paper and ink.”

 

Interpol and Other Enquiries

I’m back in Wellington.  The Prime Minister has arranged for me to utilise the services of the local Police.  Using several different Officers, to make it seem that the queries are not linked, I enquire after information on Jason Marshall, Gregory White and a person of Japanese origin, Tajima something, or something Tajima.  I also enquire specifically about women with the first name of Ellen, who have disappeared in later life.  This person, mentioned in one of the books, seems to have been taken to Gor at an age much older than one would expect for a sexual pleasure slave.  She seems to have been used in some form of medical experiment to retro-age a person.  I’m not hopeful of identifying her.  I do not enquire of Interpol after Tarl Cabot.  Apart from it being an unusual name, there is the possibility that someone will have read the Gor books and think that we are having a joke at their expense; or alternatively that the Wellington Police have gone crazy.

I don’t know if I am pleased, or saddened to find that Jason Marshall and Gregory white are listed, and as ‘missing persons’.  Similarly, two persons whose names include ‘Tajima’ also appear under the same heading.  There are some seven ‘Ellen’s’ who might fit the bill.  Follow up enquiries with the local Police in the districts where these people had lived, elicit copies of their respective dossiers on the cases, and confirmation that nothing has been heard from any of them, since disappearing.  From the dossiers, I narrow down ‘Tajima’ and ‘Ellen’ to the most likely candidates.

An enquiry is made to Somerset House, The United Kingdom’s central records repository, supposedly from an amateur Genealogist of the Caboto family of Italy.   It finds that there was in fact a Tarl Cabot born in Bristol, about the likely time he would have been there.  I obtain a copy of his birth certificate.  Similar enquiries of the Bristol Education Department confirm that he did attend the state schools of that city, not particularly distinguishing himself.  I say state schools, as in the UK the term ‘Public School’, has a different meaning.

Before leaving Harrison Smith, I’d asked him which ‘Liberal Arts College’ in New England, he and Tarl Cabot had worked at.  I am not hopeful that they would have records of employing Tarl Cabot, given that he was only there for one semester, and that had been quite a few years ago, now.  Surprisingly, they do confirm that he had been there, and had simply disappeared during a vacation break.

Another enquiry to Interpol is of a more statistical nature.  I enquire as to the number of ‘missing persons’ reported, and their breakdown by age and sex.  It’s a big report.  The gist of it though is that something like eight times as many women as men, seem to have ‘disappeared’.  In the age range between say eighteen and thirty, I would have expected perhaps four times as many, not eight times as many.  Women being smaller, generally weaker physically, can be easy prey for people traffickers, finding themselves in brothels in many seedy, and even so-called civilised cities.  But eight times as many, I find rather incredible.  Perhaps the Kur slavers, if they exist, have been busy!

I request the Police to query the Interpol computers again.  This time I want the list to show the names of the ‘missing persons’.  The full list would be astronomical, but limiting it to women between eighteen and thirty just about makes it manageable.  The Officer helping me, types into the search field each of the names that I give him; Elizabeth Cardwell, Elinor Brinton, Judy Thornton, Beverly Henderson, Millicent Aubrey-Welles, Tiffany Collins, Doreen Williamson, Janice (Prentiss, perhaps.), Virginia Cecily Jean Pym, Margaret Alyssa Cameron, Margaret Wentworth.  A cold dread settles over me, as first one, then another appear on the database list.  As each and every one of those given, is found, my dread turns to horror.  Remember too that these are just the names that can be identified.  How many more are there that can’t?  I think that it’s at that point where my scepticism is washed away.  I become a believer, that the Gorean society does exist.  The only other explanation is that the writer of the Gor books, he or she, has access to just such a list of missing persons, and is using it to provide character names.  Remember, these people come from many parts of the world.  As far as I know, the Interpol database is the only one that would list them all.  No!  This alternative is even more far-fetched than the possibility that Gor exists.  Since Earth is so well mapped, there is nowhere on the planet for a Gor culture to exist, I have to consider that it is extra-planetary.  The most likely place being where the Ambassador and his wife, had said they had seen another planet with the characteristics of Gor as reported in the books.  I request the Wellington Police to obtain copies of the respective Police files on the disappearances of these women.  I have to go somewhere.  Away from the Wellington Police headquarters, to think, to take onboard, the import, the implications of what we have found.  I find a bar.  I order up a large measure of spirits and down it in one.  What now!  I resolve to continue my research; that I’ll remain dispassionate, logical and methodical.  I promise myself that if I can find just one piece of evidence that contradicts the whole concept of the planet Gor and its culture, then I will certify the whole thing as a hoax, a clever and elaborate one.  In my heart though, I know that it isn’t.

 

The Search For Flying Saucer’s

Searching for UFO[3]’s is perhaps the most ridiculous and perhaps thankless part of the whole search for Gor.  The field is littered with chancers, nutcases, lunatics, deluded hoper's and the like.  Finding anyone who can talk intelligently to me on the subject is not going to be easy.  I call up all the official government reports that I am able to access and wade through them sceptically.  Too many governments are tight-lipped about the subject, hiding their own aerial-warfare experiments behind tales of UFO’s.  There’s apocryphal tales that Nazi Germany was experimenting with flying saucers.  One US military officer, when asked about such secret projects perhaps being twenty years ahead of their time, rather let slip that the US had weapons that were fifty years ahead of their time.  Whilst I took in the basic points about such reports, I was ever cautious about such, and the conclusions drawn.

As regards the non-government groups, I didn’t just investigate what the groups claimed, but also who was behind them, who was funding them.  As mentioned before, most seemed to comprise gullible or delusional members, with a few smart characters that sense the opportunity for a ‘quick buck’ to made from the credulous.  I examined their claims and in most cases dismissed such as hoaxes.  There was one group, in Europe, that I considered to be perhaps more reliable than most.  It seemed to consist of very professional, well respected scientists, aeronautical engineers, biologists, astronomers, etc.  I arranged to meet this small coterie.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please don’t think that I’m here to waste your time.  I’m not some wide-eyed dreamer.  Whilst I know that you cannot categorically give me an answer as to whether UFO’s, flying saucers, etc., exist or not.  I would appreciate it if you would talk to me about the subject.  What are the practical ‘yay’s of nay’s’ about the possibility or probability of such.  Are there any reports that totally defy logical explanation.  Reports that can’t be put down to ‘weather balloons’ or ‘military experimentation’?  I’m particularly interested in sightings where the object is described as disk-like or saucer-like.  Yes, I know it sounds ridiculous, but please bear with me.  A small remuneration can be arranged for your time, by my government.  I can’t say which government, or why they are interested.  Nor can you infer which, from my accent.”

The group looks on thoughtfully.

“Firstly, is some kind of flying saucer aeronautically feasible?”

The aeronautical engineer, picks up the baton.

“The wingless aircraft experiments of the nineteen sixties and seventies, showed that such were inherently unstable.  There were several crashes and some deaths.  In order for such to work, they would have to be so flattened as to effectively be wings, in themselves.  However the very principle of the wing is that it only works when air passes over it.  For such to remain airborne at slow speeds, is problematical.  It is not feasible that one could have a single spinning wing, as there would be no ‘leading edge.  The leading edge, is what splits the air allowing the slower travelling, higher pressure air below to lift the wing against the faster flowing, lower pressure air above.  Even if it were possible to get controllable lift from a spinning disk like a frisbee, the only way that you could get a centralised cabin to not spin would be to have it powered in the opposite direction at the same rate of spin as the main disk, otherwise, like a helicopter with a broken rotor it would spin out of control.  Another problem, as found out by those developing VTOL aircraft, is that close to the ground, the amount of fuel needed to take off, or hover, is extortionate to the gain.”

“Hypothesize, please.  What you’ve said is based on known methods of propulsion.  What if someone, some government or other, had a power-plant that was significantly different.  Would that get over the problems mentioned?”

“Would depend, I suppose.”

“I know that it’s the realms of science-fiction at present, but if someone could control gravity, at a local level, like some kind of maglev[4] effect?”

The man thinks for a while.

“Theoretically possible, but the further away one is from the ground, the less repulsion there would be.  Also, the power, the fuel, needed to maintain such again is problematical.  Besides, there is no such thing as anti-gravity, anywhere in the world.”

“Not even at CERN[5]?”

“Even they’ve not got that far yet.”

“Thank you.”

I pause.

“So, are there no reports of unidentified flying objects, that can’t be explained by natural phenomena, or be secret test flights by one military or another?”

“Some seem interesting, but only government’s know what their military are testing.  I cannot honestly say that there are any that can’t be explained, if one knows the source of them, but that’s the whole point isn’t it?  It wouldn’t be unidentified then.”

I turn to the astronomer.

“We know from the arrival in New Zealand of extra-terrestrial visitors, that humans can live on other planets.  Putting aside the gravitational effects of such on other planets, is it possible that somewhere in or close to the Solar System, a human habitable world could exist without us having discovered it yet?”

The woman laughs.

“You’ve been reading too much science-fiction.  No chance at all.”

I laugh in response, but mine is a little bit forced.  The concept of it being hidden behind the sun hasn’t occurred to her.  It’s a bit like the idea of not being able to see the back of one’s head without a complicated series of mirrors.  One simply takes it out of one’s thinking.  I’m still waiting for the reports from the astrophysicists.

“Yes, I fear that I have.”

I fear that this group, though more scientific than most, cannot confirm, or for that matter rule-out totally the question of whether UFO’s could possibly exist or not.  Under our present scientific knowledge, such would seem impossible.  That the Ambassador, and his ship had traversed light years, with technology that we currently don’t have, doesn’t mean to say that there aren’t those with other technologies that we don’t understand, that might make similar, but more localised journeys.  You pays your money and makes your choice, as the saying goes.

The Report

Report to the Prime Minister upon investigations into the dangers and feasibility of exploring a reported new planet on the other side of the Sun, from Earth.

Report compiled by Jeremiah Gibson, Aide to the Prime Minister.

Introduction.

Following indications given by Ambassador Harlan and the Lady Sara about a potential other planet on the far side of the sun, this report seeks to answer whether such is possible from the viewpoint of astrophysics.  That such is not known about, being that it would be perpetually invisible to observers on Earth,   Given too, that fictionalised accounts of such a planet seem to match the physical Characteristics of the reported planet, the report also seeks to ascertain whether such fiction tales as have been published have any basis in fact.  More particularly whether such can be debunked as being totally fiction.  A third strand, but linked to the last, is whether there is or has been any contact with Earth by inhabitants (if existing) of such a planet.

 

Astrophysics.

Six of the world’s most eminent Astrophysicists have been contacted and asked to investigate the possibility of such a planet, its gravitational effects on the other planets in the solar system.  Given that there would be some, they were also asked what kind of forces would be needed to hide such effects, and whether there is some kind of natural phenomena that could negate those effects.  Given that in the fictionalised stories of such a planet, there are beings who have the technology to control gravity so as to mask those effects, the absence of such phenomena lending credence to the potential for the fiction stories to be based on fact.

All of the scientists agree that the orbits of the other planets in the solar system would be different to what has been observed.  The scientists are not consistent as to how much that difference would be, but none say that another planet where reported, would not create an effect.  None of those asked can conceive of any theoretical natural means by which those effects can be negated.  That there is some manufactured means to do this, cannot therefore be ruled out.  The full texts of the various reports are attached in appendix A.  Such should be subject to peer review, if and when you choose to release this report to the public and/or other governments.

 

The Author, or Authors.

The putative ‘author’ of the fiction works purporting to emanate from just such a planet; described as Gor, is one Jack Large.  He uses the pseudonym ‘John Norman’.  Questioned under lie-detector conditions, it is revealed that he is not in fact the author.  He reports that he makes no significant changes to the document, apart from typing it up into a form ready for the publishers.  It is important to note that he does not change any of the names of the characters.  He reports that he obtains the manuscripts from one Harrison Smith, whose name is briefly mentioned in the first two books of the series, Tarnsman of Gor and Outlaw of Gor.  Harrison Smith, interviewed under similar lie detector conditions cannot say where the manuscripts come from.  They are delivered to the inside of his locked apartment when he is out; as described in the early pages of the book Outlaw of Gor.  The transcripts of these interviews, and the description as to how the manuscripts seem to appear, are attached in appendix B.  One thing is clear, Harrison Smith does seem to believe in the veracity of the world of Gor, and the stories about it.  He claims to have met, and sees as a friend, the central character of the stories, one Tarl Cabot; though he has had no direct contact other than the stories for many years.  Harrison Smith does seem also to be the person holding the manuscripts.  Having one to hand, he allowed the report compiler to take a small sample of the paper and ink for chemical examination.  The paper appears to have been made using fibres similar to cotton, but not quite cotton.  The laboratory conducting the examination cannot identify what the fibre base of the paper is.  Nor can they match the paper to any known paper type in the world.  The ink too has a chemical basis that does not conform to any known type of ink anywhere in the world.  The reports from both the laboratories are also included in appendix B.

 

Records of persons listed in the books about Gor

The central character of the Gor series of books is one Tarl Cabot.  Records show that a man of this name did or does live on Earth; and where stated.  The United Kingdom records authorities have provided a copy of his birth certificate (See appendix C).  He was educated in the schools of Bristol, in the UK.  The college in New England, where he taught briefly confirms that, and that he disappeared after only teaching one semester.

In the Gor books, there is a significant sub-plot regarding the kidnapping to Gor, and enslaving of beautiful and compliant women,  The Interpol records show a much larger statistical correlation of such women, over and above what can be explained by earthly people traffickers. (Appendix C)  Further enquiries of Interpol produced a list of the names of known disappeared persons.  This report is extremely large, and is in electronic form.  If required a copy can be provided upon request.  Every single Earth person who can be identified in the books, appears on the list as ‘missing’.  This applies also to the few males taken to Gor, according to the books, whose names are also listed.  If the manuscripts of the Gor books are written on Earth, then it is stretching coincidence too far, for so many names to correlate as missing, unless the writer also has access to a missing persons database as extensive as the Interpol one.

 

Flying Saucers

According to the Gor books, whilst the Priest Kings, the race supposedly controlling the gravitational anomaly mentioned earlier, occasionally bring specimens of humans to Gor, they no longer seem to do so, en-masse.  The interloper race, the Kurii do take large numbers of persons, mostly women from Earth to Gor, to sell as slaves, to fund their own plans.  Their reported method of doing so involves the use of craft that could be described as ‘flying saucers’.  Whilst most groups involved with UFO research are clearly cranks making wild and exaggerated claims, those few with any gravitas seem unable to confirm or deny whether such craft exist or not.  They report several ‘interesting’ sightings. (Appendix D)  Many of the reported sightings of such craft, may very well be caused by secret testing of new aerial weaponry by one country or another.  As such are highly classified, it is impossible to tell which reports are such, without the investigation becoming common knowledge.  The brief given is that this report be compiled in as much secrecy as possible.

 

Conclusion

Given the calibre and respectability of the Astrophysicists utilised, it is difficult to believe that if the planet exists as reported, there is not some force or technology that is deliberately hiding the presence of that planet.

It has proved impossible to debunk the Gor books as merely fantasy fiction.  That every Earth person identified in the Gor books, is listed as a ‘missing-person’, is particularly telling.  The books then, cannot be discounted as not having potential information pertinent to exploration of such a planet.

It has not been proved, and cannot be at present, that there is no link between Earth and the reported Planet, whether likely or not.

 

Recommendations

The possibility of a whole new world to explore and perhaps colonise, within reach by current technology, is something that is of monumental importance.  It is in the nature of mankind that if there is a new frontier, we will explore it.  Perhaps that is why man became the pre-eminent species on the planet.  Attempting to stop exploration of such a planet, even trying to hide its existence is probably futile.  Sooner or later, news of this importance will leak.  The compiler of this report recommends, therefore that those nations with space technology be apprised of the likelihood of there being a planet as reported, beyond the sun.  It should be reiterated that a manned exploration should not be undertaken until unmanned probes prove that it is (relatively) safe to do so.  Any unmanned probe should be or a two-stage design, with one part holding a long way off from the planet, and the other going closer.  The farther part, in addition to relaying the results of the close-in one, should also be monitoring the telemetry of the close-in one.  This is in order to ascertain at what point if at all, the close-in part is destroyed or stops operating.  Under no circumstances, should a manned exploration be initially decided upon instead, should the team include a woman.  Such, if surviving a crash, according to the Gor books, could and would probably find herself enslaved.  The men chosen for the task should be trained in the use of edged weapons.  These latter recommendations may seem far-fetched in our modern world, but if the Gor books have any credence whatsoever, and the compiler now believes so, the dangers cannot be overestimated.

The Letter

Dear Prime Minister,

Please find attached the report requested, regarding the potential dangers posed by exploration of the reported planet on the other side of the sun.  A full accounting of all sums expended in preparing the  report has been sent to your secretary for you to initial and process, at your leisure.

I am however concerned that I may have been unable to keep my investigation as secret as I, or you would have liked.  During the last three weeks, it has become clear to me that I am being followed and watched.  There is something odd about those undertaking this surveillance.  If it were some secret-service, either our own, or by a foreign power, I would have expected them to be more subtle.  The operatives seem to have about them a surety that is beyond arrogance.  It’s almost as if they know that there is nothing that I, or anyone else for that matter, can do anything to stop them doing whatever they will.  There is also an air about them as though they are not ‘at home’ in the clothes that they wear.  It’s like a non-Scotsman wearing a kilt, or an Australian aborigine wearing a business suit.  I have hesitated from calling the Police on this matter, as to do so might have brought on questions as to the mission you entrusted me with.  I have therefore acted as though I am not aware of the presence of those watching me.

You may think that, to use a cliché, I have ‘lost the plot’, and hence am no longer employable in my present role, but despite a huge amount of scepticism at first, I have come, during the investigation to believe that the ‘fiction’ stories in the Gor series of books, are in fact genuine autobiographies by the persons mentioned.  Given this, I believe that I have unwittingly come to the attention of the agents, the slavers, that work for the Kur faction in the struggle between the Priest Kings and the Kurii.  You will recall that I mentioned this conflict and its players, when the subject was first discussed the day that the Ambassador and his wife arrived.  That I have been able to finalise my report and deliver it to you, would indicate that those following me, are not aware how advanced that I am in the project.

However, the presence of these operatives watching me, does concern me for my own safety.  Should I be killed, or have a ‘convenient accident’, please note such and ensure that the report supplied to you is protected at all costs.  Similarly, should I simply disappear, the same care must be taken.  Assuming with such a disappearance, that my body does not become part of a concrete pillar holding up some structure, or food for the fishes somewhere, then it would be my hope that these watchers would consider it worth their while to transport me to that other world instead.  On the off-chance that the latter is the only option available to me, I have during the last fortnight, been taking lessons in how to fight with a sword and other edged weapons.  I am not yet proficient, but I hope that if necessary, I may stave off immediate death, allowing me to improve my skills enough to protect myself further.

I truly do now believe that we are all part of a much larger ‘game’ than our mere international squabbles imply.  You too do need to be careful as to what steps you take, and how much knowledge you allow into the public domain.

 

I remain,

Yours faithfully

 

Jeremiah Gibson

Lady Sara’s Epilogue

My husband, the Ambassador, Harlan and I sit in the Prime Minister’s office.  The room is quiet.  The PM waits while Harlan and I read Jeremiah Gibson’s report.  Harlan puts down his copy of the report and comments to the PM.

“Mr Gibson, does seem a little fanciful.  However the proofs that he lists do seem telling.  Subject to verification of those proofs, I think that we have to take this report at face value.  For the present we will hold off from explorations of this other planet.  Is Mr Gibson available?  There’s a couple of questions that I have.”

The Prime Minister presses a button on his telephone and speaks.

“Gloria, please ask Mr Gibson to come and see me right away, please.”

I hear the metallic response from the tinny loudspeaker.

“I’m sorry, Prime Minister, but Mr Gibson didn’t come into the office this morning…”

I see the PM’s facial expression harden.

“...We’ve been leaving messages for him, on his answerphone and his mobile phone.”

“He’s not called in sick?”

“No, Prime Minister.”

“Get someone, a Police Officer of some experience over to his apartment.  They are to report back to me directly, as to Mr Gibson’s whereabouts and state of health.”

“Something wrong, Prime Minister?”

“I don’t know.  I think that you should read the letter that came with the report.”

He hands it to Ambassador Harlan.  He passes it to me.

“Please read this aloud.”

Despite being one of my better students, and his English being very good, he clearly wants to be sure that he’s not misreading or misunderstanding what’s in the letter.  I do so.  Afterwards I ask.

“Harlan, did you understand what’s in the letter, or do you want me to translate it?”

“No, I got it, thanks, Sara.”

Ambassador Harlan looks concerned, the Prime Minister seems worried.  Me?  If Mr Gibson’s absence is for real, then there is genuine need to be concerned.  However, even before I was kidnapped from Earth, I knew not to always trust politicians.  I pose a rather undiplomatic question.

“This isn’t a put-up job, is it, Prime Minister?  You don’t have a reason for us not to be able to ask him questions?”

The PM appears to awaken from his thoughts.

“No, Lady Sara.  In the light of the report and Mr Gibson’s letter, I am indeed concerned for him.”

The telephone rings.  The PM presses a button so that we can all hear what’s said.

“Prime Minister?  This is Detective Inspector Whitney.  I’m at Mr Gibson’s house.  He’s not here.  His passport is here.  There’s no sign that any of his clothes or personal effects are missing.  There’s a broken cup on the floor.  Not enough damage to indicate a struggle, but the cup does make me wonder…”

“Detective Inspector, please list Mr Gibson as a ‘missing person’.  Put an alert out to airports and ports.  Please do all you can to find him.”

“We generally give it at least twenty four hours before classing a person as ‘missing’.  Do you have any information indicating a danger to or from Mr Gibson.”

“Yes, Detective Inspector, but at present it is highly classified.  Please do all you can to find Mr Gibson.  He is not a suspect in any way, but he may be a victim.  I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you any more at this point.”

All three of us sit glumly for a moment.  Irrespective of whether we believe what we read in the report and the letter, I think that we all just ‘know’ that we will not see Mr Gibson again.

“What now, Prime Minister, with regard to the report?”

“I think that I’m going to bury it, for a while at least.  I need to think on how to leak this story, to cause the least disruption and upheaval.  As you yourself said, Lady Sara, it could change the whole perspective of the human race.  It could even start wars.  There’s enough diplomatic tension around as it is.  Can I trust you, Ambassador Harlan, to keep this matter silent, and avoid exploring this other world?”

“You can, Prime Minister.  Until Mr Gibson is found or it becomes clear that he will not be found,, I think that we should heed the warnings he has given.  I really think that Sara and I should read these strange stories about Gor, he talks about, just in case there is something to them, after all!”

---

[1]     A common term for the habitable range of a given star.  A planet in this zone would not be too close to be too hot for life as we know it to exist, and not too far away to be too cold.  The term is taken from the children’s tale of Goldilocks and the three bears.

[2]     Unexplained Flying Objects.

[3]     Unidentified Flying Objects

[4]     Magnetic levitation.  The effect of two magnetic poles of the same type repelling each other.

[5]     European Organization for Nuclear Research