"You alone, of all the millions of beings on this planet, intrigue me. Your mind is different than all the others I've encountered through Alice. You will be the one who helps me decide."
"Decide what?" Tremain asked, his chest turning to ice.
"Whether I will suffer your species to continue to exist on my planet."
CHAPTER FIVE
Christopher watched from the table as his uncle's eyes flared just a moment, the only indication he had heard the metallic figure.
"Sorry . . . come again?"
The figure took two more steps towards Tremain, one raised hand pointing. This time, though, Christopher could hear a clanking sound as it moved.
"Your species has a limited time on my world." The voice boomed. "How much time remains will be determined by you."
Tremain didn't bother to hide his anger this time.
"And who are you to be judge, jury, and I would presume, executioner?"
Alice moved towards the figure, her hands held in front of her, placating.
"Sen . . . Please . . ."
The metallic figure waved a hand and Alice . . . dispersed. It was as if a great broom had brushed her out of existence. She was wiped away. Christopher stood and gasped. The figure stood taller.
"I am the last of my people who once flourished on this planet. This has been and will always be our home." It took one more step towards Tremain, who stood, unflinching. "I watched as your species arrived here. You were a distraction from my boredom, but now you've spread like a virus across the land. I see a time when you cover every inch with your cities and your filth, as you did your home planet. I cannot allow that."
Tremain stood silent, his eyes wide, the horror he was feeling written on his face. Christopher stood still, not daring to even breathe. Finally, he heard his uncle speak.
"A virus. You equate a sentient, intelligent species as a virus."
"Just as you would examine a bacterium in a petri dish, I have watched your species take hold and root here. I will not allow you to destroy my world."
"So you've now said twice." Tremain's eyes narrowed as he thought, then turned and reclined in one of the plush couch seats. "You have us at a disadvantage, by design, I'm sure. You have obviously studied our history, but we know nothing of yours. What happened to your people?"
The figure's back arched slightly, surprised at the question.
"I sense fear in you, yet you are still curious." It took a step back, the hand stroking the bottom of the oval head as if it were a chin, the gesture totally instinctive.
"Fear is a very human response and so is curiosity." Tremain said. "You have not always been in this . . . shell, I would imagine. Correct me if I'm wrong, but you and your species were once biological beings. Something happened to you to put you in this state we see you in now. How long have you been alone?"
"My people . . . transcended . . . many thousands of revolutions ago. I have been alone ever since. My physical body deteriorated to an extent that I had no choice but to transfer myself to this shell."
Christopher's mind was swirling with thoughts from the being. Its control was slipping as it conversed with Tremain. Fleeting images of spires reaching into the clouds, a people who created objects with the power of their minds, a young couple holding hands as they walked down a country path. A group of individuals, standing with their arms raised, vanishing in a flash of light which swept up towards the heavens. Christopher barely understood the context of the images, but he could feel the emotional connection the being had with them. He felt the creature's loneliness and despair. He sat back, awash in foreign emotions.
"I have watched everything that my people had built crumble into dust. I have watched as nature itself erased our existence."
Tremain gasped as rapid fire images of falling spires rolled through his mind. He held up a hand.
"Please, if you would, control yourself. You're overwhelming us."
The metallic being hesitated, then the oval head cocked to the side. It sat back in the wheel chair.
"My apologies. I was lost in my own memories."
Tremain rubbed his forehead. Christopher did the same, feeling a headache throbbing in the background. What did this being want with them? How could they convince him to leave humanity alone? He heard his uncle clear his throat.
"Your people were mentally gifted, I take it." Tremain's voice was almost a whisper. He stood and walked to the wheelchair, placing a hesitant hand on what he assumed was the being's shoulder. "I felt your bitterness and solitude. I think I understand it, in part. Why take it out on my people? We've done nothing to you. In fact we had no idea you even existed." An image came to his mind, a monitor showing a huge storm that had grown to an enormous size but didn’t move with the air currents. He took a second to put the puzzle pieces together. "That bizarre storm that seems so unnatural. That's your doing." The oval head nodded slowly.
"Yes."
Tremain nodded, then yawned.
"I'm suddenly quite exhausted."
"Then I will show you to a room." Came a voice from behind them. Christopher looked up as his uncle turned around. Alice walked out from an archway. Christopher gasped.
"But . . . you were . . ." he stammered. She smiled at him.
"Yes, I was removed from the room." She shook her head, her curls swaying with the movement. "I've become used to Sen's tantrums. They are never comfortable" She held out her hand to them. "Come on, before you collapse."
Mutely, they followed her down a corridor to a series of rooms. It was just as plush and well-appointed as the sitting room they were just in.
"You still haven't told us where this place is." Tremain slurred as he sat heavily on one of the beds. Christopher slumped on the other bed in the room, eyeing the pillows with longing.
"We're on the other side of the globe from your cities. In a spire in the mountains. We're well hidden from your satellites. That's why you haven't detected it at all." She giggled as she saw the look in Tremain's eyes.
"You're reading my mind like he was." Tremain said.
Alice shook her head.
"No, I don't have that ability. The question was an obvious one." She stepped back out of the room. "Now sleep. I'm sure you'll have more questions when you awake."
After Alice left, Tremain pulled out his tablet and started hitting icons as Christopher stood and gaped.
"Uncle, why did we just leave? Aren't we going to try and convince that thing to stop his huge storm?"
"Of course we are, but rule one is to not be predictable." Tremain folded the tablet and put it back into his pocket. "The tablet isn't receiving any signals, so we can't alert anyone to what is happening. Whatever Sen is doing to block us from detecting his castle is also blocking us from getting anything out." He lay down on one of the soft beds, testing the plushness and sighing. "When we were hit with that barrage of images, I also felt that being's curiosity. He's lonely and angry and bitter, but he is also extremely curious about us. I felt his need for some sort of companionship. He's conflicted, which is probably why we have been brought here."
"I felt that too." Christopher said. He lay down on the other bed and stared at the ceiling. He couldn't imagine having the sort of power that could destroy another species so quickly. He thought of what would happen to his mother and Celeste. His heart beat faster as he thought of Celeste. How could they stop that thing from killing everyone? How could they stop the storm?
It took Christopher a long time to finally drift off to sleep.
CHAPTER SIX
Christopher woke with a start. He listened intently to try to discern what it was that had jolted him from sleep.
He sat up, looking around the dark room, listening, straining his senses as the sound came again.
It was a high pitched sound, like a bird tweeting, but not like any bird he had ever heard. He got out of bed and stretched, careful not to disturb his uncle in the next bed. He went to the window and looked out, looking for any sort of bir
d, but realizing the sound didn't come from outside. It was still dark, no telling what the time really was. No birds. Nothing he could see to have made that sound.
He was about to go back to bed, when he heard it again. It wasn't a bird tweet at all, it sounded like someone laughing. Curious, he crept to the archway.
Sticking his head outside the room, he cocked an ear. The sound came again, a little louder this time. He crept down the corridor, sticking to one wall, as the sounds became louder. Definitely laughter. A high-pitched hysterical laugh. Christopher stopped, listening, wondering whether he should just go back to his room and forget the whole thing when he heard singing. He couldn't make out words, but he could recognize the melody of a shanty.
He came to another corridor, which branched from the one he was in. The voice was coming from down this way. Christopher followed the sound. Every so often the singing would be interrupted by the giggling. Another voice, this one low and grumbling sounded down the dimly lit hallway. The giggling stopped to be replaced by the shanty, quieter this time.
Christopher stopped in front of an archway which led into another room. He peeked around the edge to see two men, one curled in the corner of the room, the other lying on one of the beds, hands behind his head. From the feeble light coming in from the window, he could barely make out any details. The shanty came from the figure in the corner. Christopher still couldn't make out any of the words, the man was slurring and mumbling most of them. Other "guests" of Sen and Alice? He was about to leave when the figure on the bed suddenly sat up and looked in his direction.
"Who's there?" He asked, his voice hoarse and scratchy.
Christopher, taking a deep breath, stepped into the room, his hands held in front of him.
"Sorry, I heard the singing." The figure stood up, but didn't move from beside the bed. As he did so, the light in the room gradually brightened. Christopher looked around for lamps, but the illumination seemed to come from the walls themselves. He was able to take in more of the figure before him.
The man was tall, and very gaunt. A mop of long, dirty hair covered his head which mirrored the full beard that covered the lower half of the man's face. His clothing looked to be an old jumpsuit, tattered and torn in places. He swayed slightly as he glanced over at his companion, then stared at Christopher, his eyes hard.
"Don't worry about Smitty. His mind is gone, thanks to the monster that lives here, if you call that living." He gave Christopher another long look. "How did he get you?"
Christopher gulped.
"What did he do to your friend?"
The man wrung his hands, which trembled as he spoke.
"You don't want to know. Trust me."
The man slumped in the corner stopped humming. He pulled himself up, the movements looking off. Christopher gasped as he saw the man's knee and elbow joints were bending the opposite way.
"Pulled me apart, he did." The man said, his eyes wide and crazed. Smitty's arms bent to bring the twisted hands to his mouth as hysterical laughter dribbled from his lips. "Bit by bit. Had to see how we worked, he did. I watched the whole thing." His eyes looked away and his face twisted into a grimace with the memory. "But he didn't know how to put me back together again, now did he?" He collapsed on his bed, the laughter increasing, then fading away. Christopher stood in horrified silence as the sound of humming filled the room again. He turned to the other man.
"I'm sorry."
The man shook his head.
"I am too. Smitty is my friend. We're the last two of the group of us that were captured." He swept his arm to indicate Smitty, who had fallen asleep. "I've been waiting for my turn to be examined." The implications hung heavy in the room.
Tremain appeared by Christopher's side, making Christopher jump.
"Uncle, you startled me!" he said. Tremain nodded, placing a hand on Christopher's shoulder.
"Sorry, I was half-awake when you got up and left the room. I followed you. I see you've made some new friends." The bearded man sat heavily on the bed, his eyes on Tremain.
"Tremain . . ." he croaked out.
Tremain stared to speak, then his eyes grew wide as recognition filled his expression. Christopher looked from one to the other, his brows knit.
"Uncle, you know him?"
Tremain nodded, then shook his head and looked to his nephew, his eyes full of concern.
"So do you, Christopher, although you haven't seen him in many years." He took a moment, then gestured to the man on the bed. "Say hello to your father."
My father?
Christopher looked at the bearded man, his mind racing. He had been told his father had died when he was little. He started piecing together what he knew with what the man had said about their group being captured.
The bearded man stared at Christopher with a renewed intensity.
"Chris?" he whispered. He looked at Tremain. "This can't be him, Chris is only a little guy . . . he's only six!"
Tremain pulled a chair over and sat in front of the man.
"Daylin, you've been gone a long time. You and your entire party disappeared. We thought you were all dead."
Daylin, his eyes wild, looked to Christopher again.
"How old are you now?" he managed to croak out.
"I'm fifteen." Christopher answered, still stunned by this revelation. His dad was alive!
Daylin put his face in his hands, his shoulders shuddering. Christopher realized his father was crying. He sat down on the bed next to him, putting his arm around the man's bony shoulders.
"It'll be okay. Just wait until mom finds out."
"Davie . . ." Daylin said wistfully. He wiped his face with his sleeve, composing himself. "I didn't realize so much time had passed. I've missed so much."
Tremain stood, a grave look on his face.
"While I'm loathe to interrupt this reunion, I've only just realized something. Our host has a gift of creating quite realistic constructs. Christopher, this may all just be something Sen created to analyze our reactions. A test of sorts."
Christopher looked up, his face shocked.
"How could you say that, Uncle? My dad is here, warm, breathing and alive!"
Tremain cocked his head, pain evident in his eyes.
"We thought the same thing about Alice, remember?"
Christopher thought a moment, then nodded, his eyes wet. He nodded and took a shuddering breath as he pulled himself together.
"You're right." He stood.
Daylin, his eyes wide and fearful, looked at both of them in turn.
"I'm real! I'm real! Don't leave me here!" He fell to his knees on the floor, pleading with them. "Please! I've been so strong. I can't do this anymore." He paused, then looked at them, his eyes narrowed. "Unless you're the constructs, come here to torture me. To break me like he broke Smitty." Daylin stood and brushed himself off. He held his chin up and stared at them, trembling, a coldness in his eyes. "I'm not breaking."
"If you're real, why haven't you tried to escape?" Christopher asked.
"If you hadn't noticed, we're on a mountain. I'd kill myself trying to climb down. Besides," he said, slumping back onto the bed, "I can't leave this room. There's no door, but every time I've tried, something stops me." He gave a sniff and wiped his arm across his face again. "Smitty and I are prisoners."
"We'll talk again in the morning." Tremain said, pulling Christopher to the doorway with him. "We will sort this out, I promise."
They returned to their own room, Christopher's head was swimming.
"Uncle, is that really my dad?"
Tremain sat on his bed, shaking his head.
"I truly don't know for sure, Christopher. For your sake and my sister's, I hope he really is Daylin and not one of Sen's constructs." He lay back down and rubbed his face. "I'm still in the dark. I need to understand what is really going on here. I can't do that without confronting Sen again."
Christopher lay back onto his own bed and stared once more at the ceiling. With the dawn's light fill
ing the room, he fell back into a troubled sleep.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The smell of coffee, eggs and bacon roused Christopher from his slumber. He rolled over, stretching and rubbing his eyes. He heard a woman's voice as he sat up.
"Our sleepy-head has decided to wake up." Alice said as she raised a fine china cup to her lips. Christopher walked to a table filled with all sorts of breakfast foods. Tremain was already deep into a full plate, his mouth full. He raised a fork to Christopher in greeting. Christopher smoothed out his hair and poured himself a cup of coffee. The first sip practically evaporated on his tongue. He took another, longer sip. As the caffeine worked its magic, he started filling a plate.
"Can I ask you something?" he asked Alice.
She set her cup down, nodding.
"Ask away."
"Is that really my dad in the other room with the horribly twisted man, or is he another construct? Like you?" he added, looking away from her.
She nodded her head, understanding.
"It's okay, Christopher. There is no shame in asking," she cleared her throat. "There have been other constructs besides myself but I'm the only one in residence here. So," she took another sip of coffee, "I can tell you no, that man is not a construct. Although, it's a coincidence that you find yourself here with your father."
Christopher sagged in relief as Tremain set his fork down with a satisfied sigh.
"Is it, though?" He asked, wiping his mouth." A coincidence?" He shook his head, "I have a suspicion Sen doesn't deal in coincidences." He set his napkin down and emptied his coffee cup. "Finish your breakfast, Christopher. Then I think we need to have another chat with our host."
A few minutes later, they were escorted back into the sitting room. This time Sen didn't hide himself under a shroud. He was standing at the window, as though looking out over the valley far below.
To all intents and purposes, the pose was quite . . . human. The hands were clasped behind his back, his ‘face’ looked out, glinting in the morning sun. He seemed to be contemplating the universe spread out before him. The figure turned and took note of their arrival.
The Adventures of Tremain & Christopher BoxSet Page 22