Chapter 42 – Hello again, friend of a friend, I knew you when our common goal was waiting for the world to end.

December 30^th, 2034, Kadena, Okinawa, Japan – Earth

Dewey popped the canopy and removed his heavy black helmet, taking a long breath of the cold afternoon air. This close to the ocean there was a slight salty wetness, a sharp contrast to the dry summer on the central Libertalian plains he had just come from. The change was immediately refreshing, and Dewey took a long breath, before being assisted out of the plane by a member of the landing crew, who approached the jet with a portable ladder. The empty long runways here in Kadena mirrored the airbase he had left at home, but past that was a sharp contrast. At his back, where his plane had teleported in from, was an ocean that spread for a thousand miles in every direction. Not even back home had he ever seen such a vast amount of water. Beyond the base was a massive city of concrete, lights, and skyscrapers.

When their planes landed in Kadena, the boys were greeted by several men. The important names at the meeting included Brigadier General Merton, who commanded the base, Mr. Kydland, the representative from Lockheed-Martin, and Commander Fukuda from the Japan Air Self-Defense Force. Their primary escort on base would be Colonel Aoki. The General and Commander were deferential, which gave Dewey an uncomfortable feeling like everyone was watching him. Oliver had said he had connections on Earth, and they would cooperate to refuel and arm their planes, but Dewey had expected to be treated like a burden. Now it seemed like they wanted his autograph.

“We’re very eager to see what you’ve done to our plane.” Mr. Kydland had told them, leading a dozen techs to investigate the foreign built planes, as well as prepare them for their coming fight. Colonel Aoki, with his graying hair and smaller frame came up to the eight boys and directed them away from the gawking eyes of the maintenance crews.

“You’re Oliver’s Rough Riders, right? This is important, no one can know you’re here,” He pointed at Dewey, “Put your shades on.” The Colonel handed out baseball caps for the eight little. The caps were embroidered with the letters MALS, and the eight men exchanged the helmets for the dark blue cloth.

Dewey did as instructed and the others followed with their own hats. The colonel was brisk getting them up to speed, as he directed them inside, where they could transition out of their flight suits. “Your cover identities are Marine pilots out of North Carolina, you are delivering these planes to the Shinano that will be needed as part of interoperability testing and deployment.”

The group was mostly quiet returning to base, only the odd stares and murmurs of the technicians and flight crew kept in check by presence of the high-ranking brass. It unnerved the boys, like there was some whispered astonishment and appreciation among the Earthlings, kept in check by their professionalism. Aoki brought the men to a dedicated changing room, where their flight suits were removed into lockers, and replacement uniforms had been made available.

After showering, the eight littles looked cautiously at the uniforms provided. It was adult clothes, a soldier’s uniform, and the undergarments were simple white adult boxers. Greg stood, holding the light cloth in his hand, and began to shake. Dewey pulled his shirt on and looked at the other man, seeing his distress. He walked over and put a hand on Greg’s back.

Dewey addressed him, “Hey, if you need something extra, we can get some toilet paper or towels and pick up something in the store.”

“I haven’t gotten to dress myself in five years. I’m just. I’m not scared, we’re really… we’re free.” Greg’s response stuttered, and he gave a large breath at the end.

“Are you going to be OK?” Greg nodded and slowly moved the underpants down. Silently he lifted his legs and carefully put one foot in. Dewey was concerned he might have forgotten how to put pants on, but Greg quickly shifted in the other leg and pulled the garments up. The captain turned and saw the rest of the room dressed. Eight men, not littles, not boys, not toddlers, not babies. Eight men, in a room built for them, in clothes meant to match their maturity and attitude.

Then Tyler hit Brad hard with his towel. Brad turned with his fist, only to get smacked again with another towel from behind from another of his wingmen.

Dewey moved to the front of the room, near the entrance and turned to his men, “Attention!” He was not loud, but the voice still commanded the room to stop and turn. “We are here as guests, and we are here to prove we’re not just a bunch of babies. I have grand expectations for all of you to act like the adults you know you still are, deep on the inside. For some of us, this might be the last time we can show we are big boys deserving of respect. We’re here to prove the Amazons are wrong about us. I expect all of you to beat this standard, because I know each and every one of you once was a grown man, and if you put your mind to it, you can be it again.”

Tyler looked down at his towel, carefully folded it and placed it on a bench. The room quickly became serious, and the men focused on putting on their new uniforms. Dewey finished his ensemble with a cap and glasses, stepping out into a lounge and running into Aoki. The Japanese native kept a stern face, “Given the timetable, I was not able to get permission for to go off base. It is important to not be drawing any unwanted attention.” It was not that big of a loss to the men; they were not used to even this level of autonomy. Their adopted parents did not let them travel more than a couple miles from home unattended.

“What’s there to eat?” Tyler asked, causing Dewey to roll his eyes behind his shades.

Aoki paused a for a second, before pointing down the hall, “Well I could take you to the exchange, but how about we start with the mess hall?” The other shrugged and followed as a large group. As they traveled it the hallways started to enclose in on the littles, causing an increasing sense of claustrophobia from entering a universe where everything was their size. The doors, the water fountains, the text on the walls, even the lighting was optimized for their convenience. It was a relief to enter the massive cafeteria; while the ceilings were still low compared to Amazonia, the size of the room was much more normal. The boys lined up at the serving station and their plates quickly overflowed with spaghetti, sauces, bread and vegetables.

Upon sitting, Tyler slowly poked at his spaghetti, taking a bite of the meatball, and giving an odd look. The taste was not bad, it just was not as good as the same plate he had had a few nights before. To his right, Maurice snuck a look at the distracted captain and then leaned into Tyler. He whispered, “If you need someone to cut it up and feed it to you.”

“Just was expecting something…” Tyler ignored the barb, swirling the pasta around and bringing another bite up.

Brad scooped some pasta on a slice of bread then shoveled it into his mouth. After a few bites, “Not as good as mom’s,” he added in, his mood matched Tylers, not quite resigned, and not quite sad. It was strange to think the Amazons did some things better, that the potential of the small ones in this domain could be capped like their height.

“I don’t want you guys judging Earth by this, this is not our best foot forward, but this has to be fun in its own way. If you lived here, doing the same job, this would be normal.” The Japanese Colonel tried to enhance their mood, “Most people that travel the multiverse, they go to some tourist resort, but you guys get to pretend to be someone else. Live an actual life you never had.” His voice seemed to lose emphasis when he looked over at Dewey. “Have I…” There was a buzz that interrupted him, and he looked down at his phone. “Sorry, I have to take this.”

With the departure of their chaperone, the eight littles sat quietly. Dewey cut his spaghetti into small pieces and ate slowly, his fork giving only the smallest shake as he brought it up. He kept his shades on, per instructions, and looked out of place in the dimly light cafeteria. Brad coughed slightly, bringing his napkin to his face, and then leaned in to address the table.

“I don’t want people to take this question the wrong way.” Brad began, addressing the table with a low tone. He kept his head aimed partly towards the table, offering a view of his mixed blond and brown hair. His parents kept his hair short and combed it back. His voice warbled, and went slightly higher, “What if, we just didn’t do the mission tomorrow?”

Dewey brought a hand up this face, but kept silent, Maurice brought up the first question, “You think we should go back home? Too dangerous? Scared? Do you think your parents might find out?” His voice had a bit of venom for Brad’s cowardice.

“No, I was thinking, and hear me out,” Brad brought up his head and even his hands to emphasize this, “We have a hundred-million-dollar plane, with the ability to go to any dimension we wanted. We could go anywhere. Maybe become mercenaries, or even just sell the planes, live like kings.” He shuffled his hands slightly in the air, and then, looked back down, avoiding the gaze of the others.

Dewey carefully put down his fork and knife and then put his shades aside before addressing the table, “Brad, there’s thirty thousand people counting on us. The doll factories need to be stopped. Now I get everyone is a bit worried, and that’s fine, it’s a real…” Dewey did not get a chance to finish. Two airmen came up to the table, nervous but with strong smiles on their face. With their clean shaved looked, the airmen looked as young as any of the boys at the table, and that likely put them at half the age of the youngest little. The taller of the two boys found the courage to address Dewey directly.

“Sir,” The word was loud and certain, in contrast to the rest of his sentence. The single word echoed in the small man’s ears. Dewey had never been called ‘Sir’ before in his life. The young airman continued, “Um, we, um, just wanted to thank you for coming out all this way. We hadn’t heard you’d be stopping through, but it still means a lot that you came by.”

Amazons had never treated him this way. The other littles never called him sir back when he was a fully functional adult. Not when he ordered coffee, or held open a door, or if someone needed his attention. Dewey tilted his head curiously, examining the two men in full, and uncertain what he needed to say.

As if by instinct, the captain soon found his cool, and went along with the introduction, “I think we’re all glad to be here, everyone has been helpful. We have a big day tomorrow.”

“Ahh right… um. Well, do you mind if we take a photo?” The smaller one hurried out, holding out a phone cautiously.

Dewey stood up and looked long across the room. The chaperone was at least a minute away. He went over between the two boys, and the smaller man offered the phone to Brad. The little had never held something like this, but it was designed to be easy enough for a baby to use, and he figured out the simple interface quickly. Dewey stood between the two men and smiled, enjoying the novelty. Brad handed back the phone, and the two young airmen seemed overjoyed.

“Don’t worry, we know to keep this kind of thing secret. Um… I just want to say thanks, it’s not every day something like this happens,” The taller one commented.

Dewey was humble, “We should be thanking you guys, none of this could happen without all the help you’ve given us.” The two airmen tilted their heads, before moving into a salute. Dewey returned the gesture, and they left, happy to have met the man from another dimension.

The captain picked up his glasses and hat and restored his costume, he turned to Brad whose mouth hung slightly agape, “Still want to run away?”

Brad humbled, shrugged his shoulders, and then returned to his food. Even on Earth, Oliver’s Rough Riders carried an aura of celebrity. The story of the eight littles standing up against the giants, Davids versus Goliaths. Whether they succeeded or failed, the entire universe, a hundred thousand worlds, would know of their courage. What was wealth and comfort compared to glory?

Colonel Aoki returned, none the wiser to the interruption from the other Earthlings. He apologized again for leaving the group and explained. “Lockheed Martin wants a couple hours of your time to ask questions about the plane. I told them you’re about to go into battle, but they desperately want to speak with you.”

He had just experienced celebrity and respect, a feeling he had never known he craved. Now the smartest of men of Earth wanted an hour of his time to talk about something he was an expert at. His hands shook slightly imagining the thrill of an entire room of men listening to him in awe as he explained the engineering challenges that had gone into building the jets. Dewey looked to his men, and then to the Japanese man, “Why don’t you take the boys to see the exchange and I’ll go see what Mr. Martin needs.”

Compared to Amazonia, the Exchange would barely qualify as a corner market, consisting of a two-story shopping retail center, and a commissary. The buildings themselves were an ugly dark gray, with only a light coloring along the edges and a large red, white and blue sign. The seven boys lingered in the parking lot around their transport, unsure of what was expected of them, before being guided forward by their chaperon.

Right at the entrance, Greg noticed the plastic and chrome horse. He had ridden on this exact model just a few days ago, only that horse’s red and white saddle had been up to his shoulders. This small brown toy barely came up to his belly. Greg was slightly short for the group, he could still ride this horse with some difficulty, and he probed his empty pockets for a second looking for a quarter, just to get a taste of seeing something sinister be turned into a whimsical toy. He wanted to know if it played the same song.

“Mother” had insisted he ride it, even though he said he needed to potty. The jiggling ride had gone on and on for eternity, he was not sure how many dollars she had put into the horse. It left him barely able to hold his sphincter tight. He had waddled a few feet before collapsing to his knees. His “mother” scolded him, blamed him for the resulting mess, and forced him to sit in it on the ride back home. It had been thankfully short, but she insisted on leaving him in the seat while she put away every single grocery.

He could kick the horse now. He was the big boy now. Greg kicked the ground beside it in a listless display of either the absence of power or care. Dust kicked up from his shoes a few inches.

“When we get back, I’m going to tell her.” Greg voiced aloud. Brad had been distracted watching the automated doors whisking fresh warm air of the interior out to the cool Japanese evening. Back home his own feet never opened any doors. The others had already begun lingering in the foyer of the mall, leaving him alone with his friend.

“Tell who what?” Brad started.

“Mother. I mean, my caretaker, whatever, it’s stupid,” Greg looked back down at the horse, and touched its cool plastic exterior.

“It’s not stupid, look what we’re about to do. That’s what’s stupid. Taking on the entire Yamatoan Empire with just a handful of planes. Flying halfway across the planet, visiting another dimension. This whole mission, none of this should be possible.” Brad leaned into the absurdity, his arms exploding outwards to emphasize the size of the impossible task.

Greg tried again, “Yeah, but when we talk to them it’s just in one ear, out the other. They can’t see us for who we are, or what we do.”

“The whole damn world’s going to see what a bunch of littles can do. It’s going to wake everyone up,” Brad reminded him.

“I want to be treated…” Greg paused looked up at the dwindling light from Earth’s star falling to the west, “I should say like an adult, but honestly, I want to be…”

Brad finished, “A bigger kid.”

“I’ll take adult again if it’s what’s offered. I haven’t been a real one in a few years, and sure I didn’t quite like it, but we paid our dues.” Greg stared hard at his reflection in the automated door. With his cap and uniform he could make out the man he was at nineteen. He turned to Brad, “Do you think Oliver’s right, about growing up again?”

Brad shook his arms violently, “Hell no, if Oliver could turn people into adults again, why’s he pretending to be a six-year-old.”

“A six-year-old with a job, contacts in government, an international intelligence gathering organization, oh and he set this whole mission up. I wish he were coming along.” Greg looked up, staring at the stars beginning to twinkle in on the late December evening. The sun was going down early.

Brad scrunched his face at that, “Well, he can’t be that big if he still wets the bed. Come-on, let’s go inside, the wonders of Earth do not begin and end with plastic horsies.”

The two quickly caught up with their friends inside. While the base was an entirely novel experience, it was designed with a practical purpose, and luxury was a secondary concern. The flow and structure may as well have been a brand-new daycare. Their caretaker may have been six foot tall, but he was as watching as any babysitter they had known.

The exchange was different. This was a mall, a shopping center with everything you needed from home. Food, clothing, furniture, and electronics. Not a single item was intended for people larger than seven feet tall. In their prior lives there had been stores for littles, the dedicated shop in the mall or a specialty grocer, but the idea of an entire space just for their commercialist desires was beyond them. More than Disney World, the mall, and the adjacent supermarket, well stocked, was the real excitement for them to see what Earth could offer.

Maurice slowed down and whispered to Brad, “Did you notice it?” Brad shrugged, looking around the brightly lit interior of the mall an the fanciful lights and signs. He could easily spend an hour in each store, just taking in him-sized variations on the trivial items he encountered every day back home. Even his nose was delighted by some distant savory morsal - something his stomach knew would not be over peppered or filled with mind-warping chemicals. For the first time he could experience the joy of having a world designed to pull at his wants, not at his needs.

“Tiny people. Real kids.” Brad looked down the hallway where Maurice was pointing. There was a boy under four feet tall near his mother. Back home his ‘little sister’ was now taller than him, he almost never saw people shorter than him who were not adults. At this distance he could see the toddler do a bit of a dance as he pointed at some center station kitsch, trying to get his mother’s attention. Seeing the smaller boy tugged at something within Brad. He had not been on a date in over five years, but now he felt a great emptiness. His big-boy pants were feeling loose, he was now aware he was missing something.

As far as malls are concerned, the Exchange is a tiny adventure, though would be recognizable to most Earthlings as visiting the local mall but on a smaller scale. Emphasis here was on services, with a barber shop, a salon, a bank, a food court, a furniture store, places for kitsch and touristy items from the island. The center of the mall lane was cluttered with wooden statues and phone cases, hats and sunglasses, kiosks that were not even manned. Every boy stopped and pointed at the various wonders, from knives to watches to hookah containers.

Aoki had his hands full, between telling the workers at the auto center, that “No, Ronald here does not want to buy a car today,” or when he had to intercept Douglass and Robert as the two started to play a number on a couple free standing ukulele. Deep down they were mischievous boys, untethered, and unbound. They were strangers to the mores and manners of Earth, but more so, after being relegated to a second childhood, they were strangers to being adults. They lacked the ability to see how others might see their actions, nor did they care. The colonel decided to bribe the men with coffee, just to get them to calm down for half an hour.

The seven men slurped their drinks, dark black and bitter concoctions calmed their nerves and refocused their attitude. Each was enamored with the normalcy of the sippy cup top, a plastic convenience invented by the coffee shop to minimize straw usage. The men engaged in small talk at a long table, before one of the men, Ronald, carefully put down his iced coffee, he flipped his hat brim up before engaging with their escort.

“You flew with Oliver,” Fourteen eyes turned towards the Earthling. Aoki paused; his face scrunched unsure of how to address this.

“Yeah, I flew with Oliver, a phantom, over Terra. Did he mention…”

Ronald looked around the table, “We don’t have any war stories, back home no one our size has ever fought before, and the bigs don’t like violent stories. Oliver will reference movies and television all the time, but we don’t have anything close to that. The closest we ever get is cartoons.”

The colonel contemplated this, putting his iced tea down and bringing his hand to his mouth and chin, pausing before beginning his story. He carefully retold the events of that distant December morning over the skies of California, of the heavy emotions, the loss of friends, the fear of death, the regrets and errors, the excitement, and finally the glory. The seven warriors were ready to become immortal.

They boisterously continued their journey in the mall and eagerly made their way up the escalator, bouncing up step by step. At the top of the second floor, they became surrounded. Both on the left and the right. Hundreds of cardboard cases were stacked into pyramids, with smiling faces and proud colorful displays. The colors and names were different – red, then purple, and green – but each of the seven men had been tortured by similar aisles their whole lives. Even when they were last adults, none of them had the courage to dart down the same aisle back home, and they backed away on instinct.

The seven men went down the escalator and silently left the mall. They had seen enough of the wonders of Earth.

The same time his men returned to the base, Dewey finished his meeting with the engineers. The Earthlings were fascinated by the Amazonian industrial process. Dewey casually dropped terms like nano-manufacturing and hologram assisted design, which tantalized to the wonders of another world and sparked imagination. For the little, this was something more. For the first time in his adult life everyone in the room hung on his every word. He exited his interview into bright lit halls and glared out large windows holding back heavy winter darkness.

After rounding up his men for one last talk, Dewey was alone in the spartan guest room that had been prepared for him. The walls were bare white, with no pastel wallpaper or shades on the windows, or posters from television shows and movies. Adorning the bed was a simple brown blanket, and against the pillows was a wrapped plastic package. He approached and held the transparent rectangle, roughly the size of a sheet of printer paper.

The little carefully moved his hand over the seal, “Empowering you to live your life to the fullest, with the dignity you deserve.” On one planet these garments enslaved a billion men and women, on Earth they provided freedom, the possibility of living one’s life to the fullest. Earth was not better because they did not wear diapers, but because wearing diapers were not a limitation, they did not define who he was or who he could be. No one would judge him or call him a baby. After tomorrow no one back home would either.

Dewey squeezed the plastic wrapped package and watched as the white garments slowly reformed as he let go. He kept the package pristine near the nightstand and forced himself to bed. Tomorrow when they took off, he would take with him that package, his souvenir from Earth, and hide it away in the back of his jet. He would bring that promise of freedom to a whole new world.