Malig Tumora

by James Moloney

  ‘I won’t help you.’

  ‘Not willingly, perhaps, but it is not you who is to be tested.’

  Not him. Then what sort of experiment was he talking about? Berrin expected to be led into one of the laboratories, but instead they came to a halt halfway along the corridor.

  ‘Are you ready?’ Malig Tumora asked the observation ball.

  ‘Yes-it-is-time-to-begin.’

  ‘Good, call them over,’ he instructed.

  Berrin had no idea what was going on. But he did know he wanted to avoid helping Malig Tumora. He was a Doomsday Rat, sworn to defy the enemy at every turn. He couldn’t give in now. The moment he stopped fighting and simply did what he was told, he might as well be on the other side of that glass, breathing in the flower’s vapours.

  Think, think, he urged himself. Make a mess of his experiment somehow.

  Through the glass, he could hear the mechanical voice speaking. Two grown-ups responded: a man and a woman. The man stood up, waiting behind his chair for further instructions. The woman joined him, then side by side they walked slowly towards the glass and stopped directly in front of Berrin.

  He doubted they could see him though. The laboratory was very bright, the corridor barely lit at all. He would be no more than a shadow to them.

  Such thoughts were soon chased from his mind as he peered more closely at the grown-ups. That man, his face! It reminded him of someone and he knew instantly who: Ferdinand, the founder of the Doomsday Rats. To Berrin, Ferdinand was more than a leader — he was an uncle as well, and this man looked so like him he was surely … Yes, he must be Ferdinand’s brother.

  Which meant that he was also … Could it be true? Berrin searched the woman’s face for something he could recognise. He stared at her eyes, her mouth, her hair, but nothing sparked a memory.

  Then the lights changed and Berrin felt their hot glare shining on his face. He could see his own reflection in the glass now, the first time he had ever seen it so clearly. He had heard others speak of something called a mirror, and he realised the glass was much the same. In staring at the details of his face, he saw the resemblance he wanted so desperately to find. The woman’s face and his own were from the same mould: the eyes, the cheekbones, the colour of their hair.

  He knew who these grown-ups were! He knew the discovery Malig Tumora had stumbled across.

  His hopes were confirmed when the observation ball announced to the humans behind the glass, ‘This-boy-is-your-son.’

  Berrin’s heart felt as if it might jump out of his chest and smash through the glass. They could see him now, surely? Did they know him? It was so hard to tell when the flower’s fragrance had them in its grip. Their faces seemed as dead as all the other grown-ups he had encountered.

  He had to have a sign from them. He was about to throw himself against the glass when he realised. No, that was the last thing he should do. This was the experiment Malig Tumora was conducting. Yes, look at his darting eyes. He was watching Berrin’s parents to see if they responded. The more Berrin showed his feelings, the more likely it was that they would too. He would be helping Malig Tumora, he would be doing exactly what that horrible man wanted.

  Never! To help Malig Tumora, even in the smallest way, would betray his parents and his friends, The Rats, who might still be alive. The only way to defeat him was to break his control over the grown-ups and this experiment was a test of that control.

  The next minute was the hardest of Berrin’s short life, harder than facing the Gadges, harder than fighting the scorpion. He made himself stand perfectly still and look at his parents. He wouldn’t even let himself close his eyes. He just stared, as though the sight of them meant nothing to him.

  He had never known such pain, but he would not let his face show what he felt inside. Did they recognise him? his mind asked, over and over. For now, it was best that he didn’t know.

  Malig Tumora shifted restlessly from one foot to another. The ordeal was almost over, Berrin realised. A few more moments and Malig Tumora would surely end the experiment.

  Then it came, the slightest flicker in their eyes, both of them, a tiny movement of the cheek muscles, the almost unnoticed tremor of a hand. Watching them so closely, Berrin knew what it meant. Unfortunately, so did Malig Tumora.

  ‘They - know - who - the - boy - is. They - showed - signs,’ said the robotic voice.

  ‘Yes, I saw it too. It is as we feared. The gas does not shut out all human feeling. Send them back to work,’ ordered the real Malig Tumora.

  Berrin watched in anguish as his parents turned away from the glass and went back to their desks. He would have happily stared at them for hours. Then the rest of Malig Tumora’s conversation with the computer caught his ear.

  ‘We-must-go-ahead-with-our-plan.’

  ‘Yes, we shall start work immediately. The most difficult part will be finding a suitable subject.’

  What plan? thought Berrin. And what did he mean by a suitable subject?

  ‘We cannot eliminate the current workers until the clones have proved successful,’ Malig Tumora went on.

  Eliminate. Berrin didn’t like the sound of this at all. ‘What are you going to do?’ he asked, without realising he had spoken.

  Malig Tumora seemed surprised to see him still standing in the corridor. Berrin felt those narrow eyes eating him up. What was going on here? He didn’t like the way the man was staring at him.

  ‘Do you know what a clone is?’ asked Malig Tumora.

  Berrin shook his head.

  ‘It is a copy of a living being. Once I have found the right human, I plan to make thousands of clones, exactly the same.’

  ‘But you already have human beings working for you, and thousands more growing up in the dormers.’

  ‘Yes, and all of them have to be controlled by the flower’s fragrance. It is a messy process and the gas doesn’t work completely, as you just helped me to prove. No, I need to find the right subject, someone highly intelligent and determined, but without the human weakness that your parents just displayed.’

  ‘Weakness?’

  ‘Feelings. I need workers who are ruthless and totally uncaring about other human beings.’

  His eyes narrowed again, focusing on Berrin so intently that the boy had to look away. ‘I need to find someone who shows no emotion at all, not even for his own parents.’

  And with these words, Malig Tumora’s mouth curled into a knowing smile.

  FIVE

  Despair

  WHATEVER MALIG TUMORA’S plan involved, Berrin was not going to find out any more that day. The observation ball led him out of the building and back into the hands of the Dfx. After another blindfolded journey, he was returned to the enclosure where Aden was waiting for him.

  ‘The observation ball told me your name. It’s Berrin, isn’t it? What happened?’

  ‘I saw my parents,’ Berrin told him eagerly.

  ‘What are parents?’

  Berrin stared at Aden blankly until he remembered that he had not heard the word himself until Ferdinand explained its meaning. In the quiet of their enclosure, Berrin did his best to tell Aden that he must have had a mother and a father and that they might still be alive.

  But then his heart sank. Yes, he had seen his parents, but he had pretended they meant nothing to him. They had known it was him and despite the dulling power of the flower’s fragrance, they had given him a sign. What must they think of him? That moment might have been the only contact he would ever have with them, and he hadn’t said a word, hadn’t smiled, hadn’t shown anything of what he felt in his heart.

  Berrin flopped down under the lean-to, lost in despair. The Gadges had said all his friends were dead. If they were right, then he was the last of the Doomsday Rats. The name mocked him now. They had sworn to bring about Malig Tumora’s defeat, but as each day went by he only seemed to grow stronger. What could a single boy do, alone, imprisoned with another who had no fighting spirit, not even the drive to escape?

>   He looked up and found that the observation ball had joined them again. No doubt it kept an eye on Berrin too, but for now it was speaking to Aden. Berrin paid no attention. The hours passed, the Dfx brought their meals, the enclosure darkened and he slept until the rising sun woke him.

  Another day passed. It seemed that this black despair would finish him off, when Gadges and scorpions and flooding waters could not. He didn’t care.

  He was so tired of fighting, of hiding and living his life in fear. Ferdinand had told him that grown-ups often had two, three, even four children. As a group they were called a family and lived together in a house. It sounded so peaceful and safe. He longed to spend just one day like that, with his parents. He would not have to mask his feelings then. He would be free. They would all be free.

  On the third day, Berrin was dozing listlessly in the sand when he heard Malig Tumora’s voice drifting in and out of his dreams. It was a mechanical drone, and even half asleep he knew it wasn’t the real Malig Tumora, but the observation ball again.

  ‘Can-you-remember-what-I-told-you-yesterday?’

  Aden’s voice followed, pouring out facts and numbers that meant nothing to Berrin.

  ‘Excellent,’ replied the ball.

  Berrin was intrigued despite himself. He sat up. ‘What is this all about?’ he interrupted.

  ‘It’s a game the ball plays with me, to see how much I can remember,’ Aden answered.

  ‘And you play this every day?’

  Aden nodded. So this was where Aden learned all that useless information he had rattled off when Berrin first arrived. He watched the boy’s face. No despair there. He had been a prisoner for much longer than Berrin, but he seemed quite cheerful.

  ‘You like these games, don’t you?’ Berrin asked.

  ‘Of course I do. I would get pretty bored without them.’

  ‘Why does Malig Tumora bother though? He wouldn’t do anything without a reason, and neither would his machine.’

  Aden simply shrugged his shoulders.

  At least Berrin’s mind had something else to think about now. His black mood lifted a little. When the Dfx brought their midday meal, he realised how hungry he was and came forward eagerly to receive his portion. It seemed larger than usual, though still not as large as Aden’s. Where did the other boy put it all?

  The Dfx saw his surprise. ‘Need strength for the maze,’ he said with a cruel grin.

  ‘What’s a maze?’ Berrin asked when the Dfx had gone.

  ‘Nothing to worry about. It’s a kind of puzzle you walk through. I’ve been in plenty. As soon as I learn my way around, they change it and I have to learn it all over again. I think the Dfx bet on how long it will take me to work it out.’

  More games, thought Berrin.

  ‘Doesn’t sound like something the Dfx would dream up,’ he commented. ‘They don’t have that kind of imagination. If they wanted to bet on something, they’d make two animals fight and bet on which one survives.’

  His mind was working quickly now. He glanced at the observation ball which watched and listened silently from a few metres away. Malig Tumora must have made Aden walk through those mazes, and there had to be a reason.

  ‘They put you in this maze thing so that you’ll learn it. Is that right?’

  ‘They used to. But I was getting too good, you see. Just one walk through and I could remember every corner and every turn. Too bad, really. It was fun.’

  Fun! Berrin turned away from his companion. He had a growing suspicion about Aden and now he couldn’t bear to look at him. Should he tell the boy what he was thinking?

  No, it would be too cruel. Best to keep his mouth shut.

  TWO MORE DAYS PASSED, both with extra rations of food. The next day, the boys heard a noisy assembly of Dfx outside the enclosure. When the door opened, Malig Tumora himself stepped inside. A troop of Dfx followed him, each carrying a weapon. Berrin counted a sword, an axe and a spear before Malig Tumora called for his attention.

  ‘You must be tired of your lodgings,’ he said. ‘I have devised a game for you. It is called a maze.’

  ‘I know what a maze is,’ Berrin said bluntly.

  ‘Ah, but this maze is a little different from most. Wits alone will not get you through. I have added a few … challenges to test you. That is what these are for.’ He waved towards the weapons the Dfx were carrying. The half-men had formed a line against the wall, not far from where Aden was watching nervously. ‘You may choose any one of the weapons before you, but only one.’

  Berrin looked at the choices. A spear would be awkward to use in a confined space. A shield offered good protection, but it was no use for attack. The axe looked big enough to chop a Gadge in two with a single blow, but what if it was too heavy for him? Perhaps this decision was the first test. His eye fell on the sword, the weapon he knew best.

  He kept his eyes on it as he spoke to Malig Tumora. ‘I am allowed to take only one thing into the maze with me?’

  Malig Tumora studied him intensely, as though he could pick up the murmur of Berrin’s thoughts from inside his head. ‘Only one.’

  Berrin hesitated. Yes, this was a test and he would have to decide wisely. The sword seemed the obvious choice, but something kept his tongue still. He heard Ferdinand’s wise words in his head. Weapons are not always made of wood and steel. Yes, sometimes the best weapon was to know your enemy, and other times it was simply ideas that made you strong.

  Berrin looked at everything lined up in front of him. How could he make up his mind when he wasn’t sure what he would face? All he knew for sure was that he would have to find his way through a maze. Then his eye came to rest, staring at one point, and the answer came to him.

  ‘I can have anything in this room, is that right?’

  ‘Anything before you now, yes,’ Malig Tumora confirmed.

  ‘Then I choose Aden.’

  ‘You what!’ Understandably, it was Aden himself who shouted this.

  ‘No-you-must-go-into-the-maze-alone,’ the observation ball pronounced.

  ‘But you said anything I could see in front of me.’

  ‘We-meant-the-weapons-of-course,’ the mechanical voice replied.

  ‘No, wait,’ said Malig Tumora. ‘The boy is right. I offered him anything he could see before him and this is his choice. He is showing the kind of intelligence we are looking for.’ He spoke to his robot self as though the boys were not even there.

  Turning to Berrin, he said, ‘Understand this, though. If you choose the boy, then you forfeit the chance to carry a weapon. Believe me, you will wish you had one before long. Perhaps you would like to reconsider.’

  ‘Yes, reconsider,’ Aden said. He had been too shocked to move until now, but with this second chance he pleaded with Berrin. ‘You don’t need me. I can’t fight. Listen to what he is saying. You will need one of those,’ he urged, pointing towards the sword and the axe.

  ‘I still want Aden,’ Berrin stated coldly.

  Malig Tumora’s face broke into a satisfied smile. ‘Strong-willed. I like what I see.’

  These comments were beginning to annoy Berrin. He didn’t like being talked about as though he couldn’t understand what was being said. It worried him too that his daring choice seemed to please his enemy. What was really going on here?

  BERRIN AND ADEN WERE marched from their enclosure, through the wide, deserted streets. They were not blindfolded, but the journey was made just as eerie by the snarls and howls of mysterious animals they could not see behind the walls.

  They were not allowed to talk, but it wasn’t hard to guess what Aden wanted to say. His eyes smouldered with anger as they focused on Berrin. If he had spoken, his words might have burned Berrin to cinders.

  After many turns, they arrived at a heavy wooden door, freshly painted a bright blue.

  ‘The Dfx have been preparing this maze for many days,’ Malig Tumora announced. ‘Once I close this door behind you, the challenge begins.’

  ‘How will we know when
we’ve found our way through?’ Berrin asked.

  ‘It is marked by another door like this, painted red.’

  ‘If the maze is too hard, we might never find the red door,’ said Aden. ‘What if we become hopelessly lost?’

  ‘Oh, you won’t be lost for long,’ Malig Tumora replied. Turning to the Dfx, he called, ‘Is the pig-dog ready?’

  A faint barking had been growing in the distance ever since they stopped by the blue door. It became uncomfortably loud now, reaching a crescendo as four Dfx appeared around a corner, struggling under the weight of a huge cage. As they came closer, the boys made out the writhing, snapping shape of a strange animal. A pig-dog, Malig Tumora had called it. Berrin could see why now. It had the head and tail of a dog, the paws and the dark fur as well, but that head sported a pair of vicious tusks jutting up from the lower jaw, and the shoulders were broad and powerful. The noise it made was certainly a bark, but combined with a deep grunt from inside the creature’s snout.

  Berrin had already guessed what was to happen.

  ‘How much of a head start will we have?’ he asked.

  Malig Tumora smiled. ‘Two minutes, starting now.’

  SIX

  The First Maze

  AS SOON AS THE HEAVY BLUE door slammed shut behind them, Aden exploded. ‘You weren’t satisfied getting just yourself killed. You had to drag me into this maze with you. You haven’t even got a weapon. What are you going to do when that pig thing comes after you?’

  ‘You’re going to save me,’ Berrin answered calmly.

  ‘Me! But I told you, I’m no fighter. I’m no good to you at all.’

  ‘Yes, you are. You’re a learning machine.’

  ‘What?’ said Aden, so surprised that he almost forgot his anger.

  ‘There’s no time to explain now,’ Berrin said. ‘But I’ve seen what kind of memory you have and it’s helped you get through mazes like this before, hasn’t it?’

  Aden nodded. His body was still tensed with fear but he was slowly beginning to understand.

  Meanwhile, Berrin was whispering under his breath — eight, nine, ten — counting the seconds since the blue door had closed. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘Tell me how we can find our way out of here.’