Star Splinter

by J G Cressey

  Laurence chuckled. Surely, the use of the word beautiful was sarcastic one.

  “Okay, maybe that’s not strictly speaking true,” the little man admitted. “It might be that this particular rock is a little special. Allow me, if you will, to demonstrate.” He pointed a finger to the horizon. “You see there, in the distance.”

  Laurence’s eyes followed the knobbly digit and, after a moment of peering, said, “I don’t understand what you’re pointing at. All I see is black rock and spewing lava.”

  When he didn’t get a reply, Laurence glanced again at the pointing finger, but the finger was no longer there. Turning around, he found that his little friend had gone. “What the…” Laurence knew that the old man was ridiculously fast, something he’d witnessed many times, but the speed of this vanishing act seemed nothing short of miraculous, supernatural even. If he hadn’t felt so dumbfounded, he might have become irritated. He turned about for a few moments then did a couple of loops of the triangular rock. “A bloody magician,” he mumbled under his breath. “Tark? Tark…?” He shouted towards the horizon for lack of a better direction.

  Eventually, an answer came in the form of a high-pitched giggle. The sound seemed distant yet close, and it had a definite echo quality to it. Laurence turned back towards the triangular rock and saw one of the oddest sights he’d ever witnessed. One of Tark’s wrinkled, sun-kissed hands was protruding from the almost vertical rock face. It was as if the rock was made from a smooth, black liquid from which the hand was emerging. Suddenly, as if sucked back into the rock, the hand disappeared and was quickly replaced by the little man’s grinning head.

  “Don’t look so spooked, young Laurence. I can assure you, it’s not voodoo.”

  Laurence shook his head.

  “What you’re seeing is nothing more than an optical illusion combined with a bit of weird science. It has something to do with tiny particles that hover between certain rocks and the way the light on this planet falls across them. Strange, I know. I could never quite grasp the physics behind it myself, but it’s quite common. There’s quite a few of them about.”

  “There’s more?”

  “You’re surprised? Don’t be. Too many people are far too reliant on their gift of sight. Sight can easily be manipulated.”

  Laurence took a step forward to get a closer look at the rock that had devoured all but the head of his little friend. “My God, would you look at that,” he said as he tentatively reached forward and allowed his hand and forearm to be enveloped by the blackness.

  “I think you’ll find that God already knows about it,” Tark replied with another giggle. “Come on then, Laurence, time’s a wastin’,” he said as he playfully rocked his disembodied head from side to side.

  Taking a couple of deep breaths, Laurence shrugged and stepped forward. Wide-eyed, he allowed himself to be completely enveloped by the blackness. Suddenly, he couldn’t see a thing, which he knew shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but it did. Never before had he experienced such complete darkness. Before his rising panic forced him to step back out into the light, a strange pop sounded, followed by a fizz, which was accompanied by a blue glow. Laurence suspected it was a dim light, but after such blackness, it felt more like a blinding flare. His eyes adjusted to see Tark standing before him, his skin blue under the light and his long, white hair appearing almost luminous. In his right hand, he held a round, translucent pouch within which was the source of the blue light.

  “Fizz worms,” Tark said, giving the pouch a little squeeze. Seeming to react to his touch, the little bugs inside glowed brighter still and fizzed. Laurence almost laughed out loud. With the strangeness of the experience, coupled with the sight of his little blue friend, laughter seemed the only fitting reaction. He suddenly felt like a schoolboy who’d just found the ultimate hiding place.

  “I’m reliably informed that they enjoy a good tickle,” Tark said, giving the worms another squeeze. Laurence considered asking who it was who had informed him of such a thing but then decided that he’d only get some riddle of an answer, so he didn’t bother.

  Holding the pouch out to his left, Tark nodded in the same direction.

  Laurence peered into the darkness. “Tunnel?” he asked, his eyes vaguely discerning a passageway that dipped downwards at a treacherous angle.

  “Indeed it is.”

  The tunnel walls were incredibly smooth, and Laurence couldn’t decide whether the passageway had been carved or was simply another natural phenomenon of this strange planet. A chill ran down his spine when he thought about what might be at its end. He began to formulate the question, but expecting another riddle, he once again didn’t bother. Besides, a part of him—the newly awakened schoolboy part—was enjoying the mystery.

  “Shall we?” Tark said, indicating the tunnel with an open palm.

  Laurence began forward then stopped.

  “Something wrong?”

  Laurence gave him a blue-lipped, white-toothed smile. “You said it yourself, Tark. You’ve got to earn trust.”

  Tark chuckled. “Quite right, Laurence. And once you’ve remained safe after leading us down this dark, ominous tunnel, I’ll have earned your trust, yes.”

  Laurence raised an eyebrow then sighed and tested the tunnel with one cautious foot. Satisfied the smooth floor had sufficient grip, he began the downward journey.

  The tunnel felt as though it went on for miles. Laurence was glad that he didn’t have a fear of enclosed spaces. The tunnel wasn’t that small, but the darkness made it seem so. Thankfully, Tark remained close behind him the whole way, the fizz worms held over his shoulder for illumination.

  “How far does this go?”

  “Not much further.”

  But the descent went on.

  Laurence’s legs became increasingly pained, and soon, they began to shake uncontrollably. Despite his newfound strength, his body was clearly not yet up to the task. Despite his efforts to fight through the pain, he thought it likely he might collapse at any moment. Perhaps if he did, he might simply slide the rest of the way. It was a prospect that wasn’t entirely unappealing, and only the fear of what speed he might achieve stopped him from giving in to it. Gritting his teeth, he increased his efforts. After all, what other choice did he have? It certainly wouldn’t be any easier going back up.

  Much to Laurence’s relief, Tark eventually called a halt. “Well done, young Laurence. This is it.”

  Breathing heavily, Laurence peered at the dimly lit walls. “But there’s nothing here. The tunnel hasn’t finished.”

  “There’s plenty here. Try looking directly to your left.”

  Laurence did so and just about made a slight change in the blackness of the smooth wall: a door-sized area that failed to reflect the dim, blue light. He reached forward, and his hand passed straight through. “What’s through there?” His voice was a whisper.

  “You’ll find out,” Tark replied, a little less humor in his voice than usual.

  Laurence turned to look at him, but the little man’s face was in shadow. Turning back to the dark entrance, Laurence sighed and decided to take another a leap of faith. With his hands out before him, he once again ventured blindly into the darkness. After only three steps, he met with another blue light, which caused him to raise his hands up over his face until his eyes adjusted.

  Then he froze, his blood turning to ice.

  He was standing at the entrance of a large cavern, its ceilings and walls covered with thousands of glowing pouches just like Tark’s. Under their light, spread throughout the cavern, stood hundreds of tall, dark figures. They remained completely still—so still, in fact, that Laurence initially mistook them for statues. But of course, they weren’t statues. They were Carcarrions, hundreds of Carcarrions, all of whom were gazing directly at him, their pale eyes shining icy blue in the light.

  Laurence couldn’t move. His mind screamed at him to run, to flee back through the black space and scramble back up the tunnel as fast as his exhausted legs c
ould manage. Unfortunately, his legs wouldn’t obey.

  Then the chance to run disappeared as the nearest of the tall, demon-like aliens lunged forward, like a nightmare made real, and seized him by the shoulders. As the creature’s steely talons lifted him off his feet, only one thought formed in Laurence’s mind.

  So much for trust.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  CAPTIVES

  Cal woke. It was a sluggish awakening. So sluggish, in fact, that it took a few moments for his eyelids to catch on and scrape open over his dry eyes. His vision was full of blonde curls, a sight that wasn’t helping his pounding head and near delirious state. Eventually rustling up the will to prop himself onto one elbow, he saw that Melinda’s cybernetic form was lying limp on the floor next to him.

  “You have a headache too?”

  Cal knew the voice well. “Ache isn’t a strong enough word,” he replied as he turned to face his friend.

  Jumper sat a few feet away against a white wall, his long, lean arms resting on his knees and an unconvincing smile on his face. “I guess we should count ourselves lucky that our thumping heads are still attached.”

  “Maybe,” Cal replied. With a stiff turn of the head, he looked past Melinda’s prone form to see that Viktor, Eddy, and Toker were also sprawled unconscious on the floor.

  “I don’t have the expertise to diagnose our synthetic friend, but the rest of them seem fine,” Jumper said quietly. “I thought it best to let them come around in their own time.”

  Cal nodded and, with a grunt, struggled to a standing position. His head wasn’t the only part of his body in pain, not by a long shot.

  “That old injury playing up again?”

  Cal nodded and pressed both his palms into his lower back. The area felt like it had become home to a set of kitchen knives. “I’ll live,” he said, trying not to wince as he did so. He attempted a gentle, upward stretch, but a spasm of searing pain forced him to abandon the effort. Swearing under his breath, he carefully and slowly turned about to take in the surroundings. There was nothing to see but a small cube of a room, its walls, ceiling, and floor constructed from a smooth, flawless material that was somehow emanating a soft, white light. The room was completely enclosed and featureless without even a hint of a door or window. It was disorientating to say the least. He looked back at Jumper. “Clean as a whistle.”

  “That it is,” Jumper agreed. “There’s some hairline fractures around the floor and walls, but you practically have to press your nose against them to make them out.” He pointed to his left. “There’s one in the center of the wall behind you. It’s about the size and shape of a door.”

  Trying his best to ignore the agony in his back, Cal approached the wall and ran his fingers along it until he’d found the line. “I’ve got it.”

  Jumper rubbed at his temples. “I gave it my best shove.”

  Cal looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

  “Hey, you never know until you try, right?”

  Cal nodded and tried for a grin. “I guess we’d feel pretty damn stupid if after a few days, we discovered that all we had to do was push.” He turned from the wall and looked down at his unconscious friends.

  Jumper got to his feet. “What do you suppose happened to Melinda? Pretty weird the way she just…turned off like that.”

  Cal raised an eyebrow again. It was one of his few parts he was having no trouble moving. “Turned off just like the Star Splinter,” he pointed out, still staring at Melinda. Limp on the floor, she seemed more human than ever. Maybe it was the vulnerability. “I guess we’ll have to wait for Viktor to wake before we get any answers.”

  “We didn’t really stand much of a chance, did we, Cal? I would have said that we were outmatched, but outmatched seems a bit of an understatement.”

  Cal couldn’t have agreed more. “I should never have brought us here. I have a nasty habit of tackling problems head-on. These kids trusted me, Jumper, and I let them down in a big way.”

  His tall friend shook his head and, quiet unexpectedly, chuckled. “Always the protector, Cal. You’ve got to face the fact that you can’t keep everyone from harm. And you can’t always take the blame when things go wrong. These kids, as you call them, are more capable than most adults. We all had a vote, including me. You’re not responsible, and you’re not to blame.”

  Cal looked down feeling unconvinced.

  “I know it’s hard for you to accept, Cal. It’s part of your nature to be the protector. It always has been.” Jumper grinned. “They even briefed me on that when I was nominated as your hunting mentor. Told me to pay close attention, make sure you didn’t try jumping between me and a charging T-rex, fists raised or something. Apparently, you kept getting yourself beaten to a pulp in the orphanage, picking fights with boys twice your age and size. They thought you had a couple of screws loose at first ‘til they realized you were just sticking up for your younger, smaller pals. They wanted me to try and teach you a bit of self-preservation. I guess I didn’t do too good a job.”

  Cal wasn’t sure how to respond. His memories of the orphanage were a little hazy to say the least, though he did remember getting punched an awful lot. He certainly never thought of himself as different to anyone else when it came to looking out for his friends. Of course, he wanted to protect them. Wouldn’t anyone? He opened his mouth to reply but, still unsure of what to say, shut it again.

  “Looks like Toker’s stirring,” Jumper said before the conversation could continue any further.

  Cal turned to see his young friend rubbing his face but making no attempt to sit up. On the floor next to him, Eddy too had started to squirm. Yet again, Cal found himself amazed by the spooky synchronicity of the pair.

  “Who spiked my drink?” Toker mumbled, his eyes still clamped shut.

  Eddy’s eyes were wide open, and her hand was slapping at her thigh. “My knife.”

  Cal walked stiffly over to them. He made an attempt to help Toker up, but his back quickly overruled him. Fortunately, Jumper soon had them both on their feet. Despite the situation, Cal couldn’t help but feel a hint of amusement at the bemused look on Toker’s face as he took in the surroundings. The strange, white cube of a room had an odd effect on the eyes and the brain—perhaps akin to finding yourself in a big fish tank hovering within a bright cloud.

  Finally, the young man’s bloodshot eyes met his. “Heaven?” he mumbled in confusion.

  Cal grinned. “If this were heaven, do you really think your head would be feeling the way it does?”

  “Huh.” Toker gave the top of his head a slow rub. “You know, my head actually feels pretty good. Everything feels pretty good.”

  Lucky bugger. Cal’s own head was playing an increasingly intense duet with his throbbing back. He was also starting feel rather hot, which was unsettling as he suspected the room was actually quite cool.

  Toker looked down at Viktor and Melinda. “They okay?”

  “Viktor’ll be fine. As for Melinda…who knows?” Cal looked at Eddy. “You good, Eddy?”

  “Course, Cal,” she replied almost breezily then reached both hands down to her toes and began to stretch.

  “Does your head hurt?” he asked her.

  “Yep, kinda.” She straightened up and attacked the air with a series of jabs. “But it ain’t gonna stop me from bein’ prepared.”

  “Prepared…for what?” Toker asked, retaining his bemused expression.

  Eddy paused in her routine and shot him an exasperated look. “You really are a thickie, ain’t ya? You believe this guy, Cal? Jumper?” she said, turning to them, then back to Toker.

  Toker shrugged.

  “Prepared to fight, dimwit. We’ve been taken by hostiles. Who knows when they might show up.”

  Toker still looked bemused although Cal caught a hint of a smile tweaking the corner of his mouth. “So what’s being prepared got to do with aerobics?”

  Eddy ignored him.

  Toker took another look about. “So I guess this
weird little room’s a cell then, eh?”

  Cal nodded. “A cell…or some sort of observation room.”

  Toker again rubbed his head as if he were trying to warm up his brain. “Now I remember. Yeah, that bloody great tube of a ship. What the hell was that? And the red mist… Didn’t leave us much of a fighting chan—” the young man suddenly stopped short and yanked up his sleeve. “What the fuck? My arm’s healed!”

  Cal looked at Toker’s right arm in surprise, not least because he hadn’t remembered it had been broken in the first place.

  Abandoning her limbering routine, Eddy turned and roughly grabbed the arm in question. “No way. It was totally bust up. I remember.” She gave the arm a good, hard twist to make sure that it definitely wasn’t broken.

  “Hey, ease up. You’ll bloody break it again if you keep that up.” Toker yanked his arm out of the girl’s grip. After flexing his fingers a few times, he jiggled the arm about. “Man, that’s bloody weird. It doesn’t even hurt. Feels good, just like the rest of me.”

  “Mind if I take a look?” Cal asked.

  “Knock yourself out,” he replied, thrusting the exposed arm under Cal’s nose.

  Jumper also leaned in for a closer look. “There’s no mark, no bruising.”

  Cal turned the arm over and saw no hint of the injury. It had been dark in the Star Splinter’s cockpit, but the arm had definitely been broken, and it had been a bad break at that. He found himself inclined to agree with Toker; it was bloody weird. “A miracle,” he said, feeling a brief moment of envy that the miracle hadn’t reached as far as his own back.

  “Maybe I got exposed to some weird space rays,” Toker theorized. “Went and got myself some super healing abilities.”

  No one replied.

  “Right…probably not.”

  “How about that red mist stuff?” Eddy said. “Maybe it like…knocked us out for ages. Like a year or somethin’. Enough time for the arm to heal up all on its own.”