by Geoff Palmer
‘You mean, we take over the mice bodies and they take over ours?’
Alkemy nodded. ‘Except in yours they will be asleep.’
Tim grinned. ‘I get it! As soon we’re asleep the Sentinels’ll start that bad dream stuff. But the mice are fresh and rested so they’ll resist easily.’
‘Plus, after one hour here your bodies will also be much rested. Easier to fight if they return tonight. You will try?’
Tim nodded but Coral looked apprehensive. ‘This is seriously weird,’ she muttered.
Ludokrus patted her shoulder. ‘Is OK, trust me.’
While not actually agreeing, Coral let herself be helped on to the blue gel slab. Alkemy helped Tim. They lay on their sides, facing each other, the gooey surface yielding slightly as the edges closed around them.
Ludokrus gave his secret knock and lid lowered slowly.
Tim watched with growing misgivings as the last sliver of daylight vanished. Darkness. Then a sudden flash of light, a sensation of zooming along a dark tunnel at incredible speed, and then there was ... mouseness ...
25 : Mouseness
Tim blinked. There was something terribly wrong with the world. A moment ago he’d been lying on his side in complete darkness, now he was crouched on a pile of straw in daylight. He blinked again. His whole body felt different. Even the way he perceived the world, even his breathing, which came in quick short breaths. The faint whisper of the breeze, the scent of straw and mud and leaves, the brush of nearby objects on his whiskers ...
He recalled the walrus mask and reached out a hand to touch it. Yes, he was still wearing it. But the movement drew attention to his hand and he stared at it, realising with horror it had been terribly mutilated. His thumb looked like it had been snipped off at the base and his four remaining fingers stretched to twice their normal length.
What he expected to sound like a startled cry came out as a thin squeak, and then he suddenly remembered.
He checked the rest of himself; the powerful hind paws, the long tail, the thick warm coat of grey fur ... he laughed — though it didn’t come out like that — and looked up to see his sister staring at him. His sister the mouse.
Coral’s eyes were wide but her mousey expression was impossible to read. He went to say something but his throat, tongue and lips simply didn’t work the way he was used to, so instead he just raised a paw and waved at her. Coral blinked back at him, twitching her nose and whiskers.
He began to explore the cage. It was large and comfortable and had several levels that could be reached by clambering up chrome plated ladders. There were toys too. A ball, a bell, a running wheel and mirror ... a mirror! He had to check that out. Oh, wild! That really was seriously weird.
He turned to Coral, expecting to find her lined up behind him for a look, and noticed she hadn’t moved. When he went back and nudged her she jumped and stared at him, and he saw — or sensed — that she was terrified.
He reached out a friendly paw but she jumped again at his touch. Did she realise it was him? Perhaps not. He couldn’t speak so he couldn’t reassure her.
How could he tell her? How could he communicate when not even facial expressions worked any more? (He’d tried smiling in the mirror but it came out looking like a snarl.)
Then he had an idea. He scooped up a couple of food pellets, hurled them into the air and tried juggling them. He wasn’t very good. Mouse paws made gripping things awkward and after a couple of seconds the first pellet clipped him on the nose while the second one bounced off his head.
He saw Coral snarl and recognised the expression. He waved a paw at her, she waved back cautiously, and a second later they were high-fiving each other and doing a little jig on their hind legs.
Suddenly their world spun in a crazy circle, then shook like a force nine earthquake. The tremendous bang was followed by a distant booming voice that rolled over and around them. Coral cowered and closed her eyes, Tim started in shock, and it was some seconds before he realised that Ludokrus had set their cage on the ground beside the spaceship, opened the door and was saying they could go outside.
With Coral at his tail, Tim sniffed the earth below the cage, marvelling at the rich sweetness of its smell. He touched it with his paw. To a human it just looked like a flat piece of bare ground, but from this perspective it was like a lunar landscape. There were dips and troughs forming low hills, and valleys dotted with fascinating shapes, textures and colours. Most marvellous of all were the smells. Subtle, strong, weak, rich, dry, salty, warm, bitter ... he’d no idea such variety existed, and all in such a tiny area. Humans simply didn’t have the words to classify them. Sun-warmed stones had a ‘grey’ smell, while their shaded sides gave off soft odours as delicate as any floral bouquet. There was the rough ‘brownness’ of dry soil, and the rich, enticing ‘greenness’ of sprouting shoots of grass.
It would be impossible to get lost, he realised. In spite of his smallness and the largeness of the world, each patch of ground was unique.
But mice weren’t masters of the world, they were also lunch. They were prey to hawks and eagles, stoats and ferrets. He shuddered and made for cover before remembering that while they were surrounded by the Revolt-O-Ray, all potential predators would be deterred.
After that he relaxed again, but not completely. In spite of the rich wonders of mouseness, the notion that he might at any time be snatched up and eaten rather took the edge off it.
* * *
‘They’re here!’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘You were mistaken before. The monkey children from the north ...’
‘This time I am certain.’
‘But how?’
‘They sleep. Look, the time is wrong. It is still daylight.’
‘We have worn them down perhaps ...’
‘I know their minds. Now they are changed.’
‘Changed?’
‘Yes. They seek to trick us with the thoughts of other creatures. Is that not confirmation enough?’
‘They have switched minds? But the monkey people do not have this technology.’
‘Precisely. They must therefore be in league with those that do.’
‘We must inform His Darkness.’
‘Word has already been sent. And I have signalled the orbiter to despatch an Emissary.’
‘An Emissary ...!’
‘Yes.’
‘Hah! I almost feel sorry for the fools ...’
* * *
They awoke, blinking at the late afternoon sunlight streaming into the opened spaceship, feeling at once incredibly rested yet mentally alert. Both were pleased to be back in their own familiar bodies once more.
Later, over some really fizzy fizzy-drinks concocted by Ludokrus, they avalanched their hosts with questions.
‘Can you switch into any living thing?’
‘There are limits. There must be some room inside the brain for your own thought, so insects are not so good.’
‘Could you do it with another human?’
‘Oh yes. This is much done for medicine at home. For example the doctor may use it to know exactly how you feel.’
‘Weird!’
‘Does it have a range? How far can you go from the spaceship?’
‘It draws much power so range is limited. To your house — less than one kilometre — it will last many days. But from here to town it maybe only several hours.’
‘What happens then?’
Ludokrus shrugged. ‘Game over. For you and mouse.’
‘What if something happens when you’re a mouse?’ Coral asked. ‘Like, what if Smudge caught you?’
‘If the mouse die with your humanness inside, there is nothing to be done.’
‘You mean you both die?’
Tim and Coral glanced at each other, glad they hadn’t strayed far from the cage.
* * *
The distant sun sank behind a streaky cloud, lighting it in oranges and reds as it dipped towards th
e sea. A pair of bellbirds chimed and a faint breeze ruffled the silhouettes of a stand of nearby cabbage trees.
Coral sat on the porch reading a book she’d found in the bookcase in the lounge. Tim glanced at the title: Old Norse Myths and Legends. ‘They’re not really from Norway, you know,’ he said.
‘I know. But it’s interesting.’ She watched him pacing to and fro. ‘Aunt Em still in the kitchen then?’.
‘She keeps coming and going. She’s cooking and baking and goodness knows what else. I reckon she’s going to be in there half the night.’
He studied the pffftzer disc Ludokrus had given him. It was half a centimetre thick, and the diameter of an appliance plug. It even had three slots in it so it would slide over the plug’s pins.
‘Do it later,’ Coral said. ‘Set your alarm for midnight or something.’
‘I dunno ...’ He bit his lip, thinking of Albert’s assurances that whatever the nature of the trap, whoever set it must have made allowances for cleaning and moving the microwave.
Coral studied her brother. ‘It’s all right for Albert, eh? He doesn’t actually have to pull the plug.’
‘Yeah,’ he said, turning the disc over and over.
‘If you’re worried about it, set your alarm, come wake me, and I’ll come with you.’
He looked up. ‘Will you?’
‘Sure. I’d hate to miss the sight of my little brother getting zapped by aliens,’ she grinned.
‘Thanks!’ he said, tucking the pffftzer disc away.
‘Oh look! Shooting star!’
He turned in time to see a brief arc glowing overhead, a fine bright line drawn across the darkening sky.
‘That looks really close,’ Coral muttered.
The light dimmed and faded as it passed over the hills, heading in the direction of the town.
26 : The Final Countdown
‘You kids are all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning,’ Frank said at breakfast.
Tim finished his cereal and looked out at the sparkling promise of the day. He’d slept like a log; a very big, very heavy one. After two nights of being pursued by sleep stealing Sentinels, it was just the tonic he needed.
‘I had a weird dream,’ Coral said, giving him a knowing glance. ‘I dreamt I was eating an enormous marshmallow ... and when I woke up half the pillow was gone.’
Frank snorted.
‘Since you’re so chipper,’ Em said, ‘you can give me a hand to get the spare room ready.’
‘Who’s coming?’
‘My sister Alice, from Greymouth.’
Frank pulled a face and muttered, ‘Test-driving a new broomstick.’
‘Frank!’
Tim caught Coral’s eye, reached into his shirt pocket and lifted out a corner of the pffftzer disc. Coral rolled her eyes.
He really had meant to get up. He’d set the alarm and tucked it under his pillow, but must’ve slept through it.
He gave her a what-do-I-do-now? gesture.
‘After school,’ Coral whispered.
* * *
Tim leaned against a fencepost watching the approaching cloud of dust as Coral ambled up the driveway rummaging in her backpack.
‘Another suspect?’ he asked as she pulled out the battered notebook.
She took out a pen and began writing. He peered over her shoulder as she added ‘Alice Jones’ to the bottom of the list.
‘Jones? You mean like Harmony, Melody and Romany?’ Coral nodded. ‘They’re not related ...?’
‘Yep, she’s their aunt.’
‘That means ... our Aunt Em ... is also their aunt.’
‘Brilliant! My brother’s a genius.’
‘But that means we’re related!’ Tim was horrified.
‘If you can call your father’s brother’s wife’s brother’s children relations, then I s’pose we are.’
‘Does that mean you can’t marry Romany?’
Coral hit him.
‘Why is she a suspect? She not even here yet.’
Coral arched an eyebrow. ‘We’re just about to grab the microwave and a stranger arrives ...?’
Tim swallowed and touched his the pffftzer disc in his pocket. ‘Oh. Right,’ he said.
* * *
Alice Jones turned out to be the opposite of her sister. Where Aunt Em was smooth, rounded, practical and energetic, Alice was bony, dreamy and ethereal.
‘Really Frank,’ she was saying as they walked into the kitchen after school, ‘don’t you think the cows would like to run free in the fields and do what they want?’
Frank looked puzzled. ‘They do run free in the fields and do what they want.’
‘But they have to come in to be milked. It’s ... it’s a sort of slavery, don’t you think?’
‘What about working in a health food shop all week?’
‘Oh but I quite like that.’
‘Tell you what, if one of the girls comes up to me one day and says she’s had enough of grazing and wants to go to uni, I’ll chuck her in the back of the ute and drive her there myself.’
‘Alice,’ Em interrupted, ‘this is Coral and Tim, Frank’s brother’s children from Auckland.’
‘Oh, hello,’ Alice beamed. ‘Auckland, gosh! Welcome to the mainland.’
They said hello and shuffled their feet while Alice continued beaming at them. She was younger than her sister, with an unkempt mop of mousey-coloured hair and a plain but deeply tanned face. She wore a purple kaftan over heavily embroidered jeans and a pair of open-toed sandals.
‘Oh!’ she exclaimed, glancing at the top of Coral’s open school bag, ‘Is that Old Norse Myths and Legends? I used to love that book when I was your age.’
‘Actually I think it is yours,’ Coral said. ‘I borrowed it from the bookshelf in the lounge and it’s got your name in it.’
‘R-e-a-l-l-y?’ She stretched the word out to about five times its normal length. ‘I used to love all the pictures in there. The Valkyries and the Norns and the Vanir. Come and sit beside me and tell me all about it.’ She patted the seat beside her.
Tim stifled a snort. Coral gave him a filthy look.
‘Well,’ Frank said, setting down his empty cup, ‘it’s all right for you lot. I’ve got to get back to enslaving cows. Leave ‘em alone for five minutes and they’ll be digging an escape tunnel. You want to come and help me man a machine-gun post, Tim?’
‘Er ... yeah,’ Tim replied, giving the microwave one last hopeless glance before following his uncle out.
* * *
‘You should’ve done it last night!’
‘I never had a chance!’
‘Well they’ll be here in a minute. If you don’t get that thing on the microwave soon, the whole plan goes out the window.’
Just then a crunch of gravel announced the arrival of the Cadillac.
Coral glanced at her brother then went to the kitchen door and called, ‘They’re here!’
Alice and Em bustled out on to the veranda and Coral waved towards the door with a theatrical flourish.
Tim slipped inside, vaulted on to the kitchen bench and reached behind the microwave searching for the plug.
‘... my sister Alice ...’ he heard his aunt say, ‘from Greymouth.’
‘Very pleased to ...’
Got it!
In spite of Albert’s assurances he still held his breath as he tugged on the lead and watched the green numerals flicker out.
He waited a second, tensed, ready. And sure enough ... nothing happened.
He let out his breath, took out the pffftzer disc and guided it over the prongs of the plug. A perfect fit. He pressed it home, watching as it seemed to dissolve into the very plastic of the plug itself.
* * *
Alice and Albert were getting along famously.
‘You don’t say, Albert,’ she gushed.
‘Oh but I do, Alice,’ Albert smiled back.
Across the table from him Coral made a going-to-be-sick face and Tim bit his lip to stifle a laugh.
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‘And there’s only you to take care of your niece and nephew?’ she fluttered.
Albert nodded and Alice Jones beamed at Ludokrus and Alkemy. ‘Such lovely children too.’
‘You’ve no family yourself, Alice?’ Albert asked.
Alice sighed. ‘I’ve never found my Mr Right.’
‘There’s a Barry Wright works at Rata service station,’ Frank said helpfully.
‘Frank ...’ Em warned as the microwave beeped.
She took out the custard, gave it a quick stir, popped it back in and set the timer for another minute. Ludokrus nudged Tim, nodding at the small plastic remote control he’d slipped him earlier. It was about the size of a keyring ornament and had a button in the middle.
Not wishing to jeopardise dessert, Tim waited for the final countdown. 0:03 ... 0:02 ... 0:01 ... beeeeeeep ... then pressed the button. For a moment nothing happened. The second beep started then ended in a quiet pffftz! followed by a loud bang from behind the microwave. Everyone jumped. Albert leapt to his feet as a cloud of smoke drifted from the alcove, and it was a good job all eyes were on him because Tim and Ludokrus were laughing like a pair of madmen.
Alkemy glared at them then glanced nervously at the open back door.
‘Oh do be careful Albert!’ Alice simpered.
‘I don’t think it’s serious.’ Albert lifted down the microwave and held up the blackened plug. It was still smoking slightly. ‘Probably a voltage blip. I’ll need to reset the magnetron and check the circuitry, but I can do that back at the caravan.’
‘Are you sure, mate? It’s pretty old,’ Frank said.
‘Well, it won’t hurt to take a look.’
Alice clapped her hands in delight. ‘How lovely,’ she exclaimed with a pointed glance at Frank, ‘to have a man about the house!’
27 : The Syntho, the Witch and the Pikelet
‘The alarms, the alarms!’
‘Calm yourself. They have been going off all night.’
‘All night? But that means ...’
‘That the bait has been taken. Is that not what we expected?’
‘And the Emissary?’
‘Is awaiting our instructions.’
* * *
‘Oh my god, something’s happened!’ Coral pressed her face against the window as Fitchett’s Flyer hissed to a stop outside the reserve.