Rift Breaker

by Tristan Michael Savage

  Reelai continued. ‘You are free to explore this facility as you will. Silver doors will open, gold doors will not. Under no circumstances are you to enter a gold door unless accompanied. This rule is essential to maintain sterilisation of sensitive areas. If you need anything I will be happy to oblige. Now I shall leave you to your thoughts.’ With that, Reelai departed.

  ‘Thank you,’ Milton called.

  Tazman lobbed him a round, red fruit. ‘Try these ones.’

  Milton caught it and peeled off the sticky skin. He was starving. He sank his teeth into the juicy red thing. A sweet melon flavour exploded against his taste buds. As Milton ate, his thoughts turned to the crew of the Reconotyre and the people of Orisurrection.

  If it weren’t for him, they would all still be alive.

  Eleven

  Milton had lost count of the days that had passed since boarding the facility. He enjoyed the blissful silence. The quiet was a soothing relief compared to the places he’d been recently staying.

  As was now his habit, Milton was taken to what seemed like a surgery. He reclined onto a platform padded with gel and elevated off the floor with two mineral stems. He observed the equipment reaching down over him, hanging from the ceiling. Large and small claws, injection needles, surgical lasers and machines to scan and observe, made from fine metals.

  The walls were an untainted solid white. From the uneven mineral wall, a rectangular section was cut smooth where a shiny arrangement of what Milton could only assume to be surgical tools hung on metal racks.

  Reelai came around to Milton’s side and turned his gaze upward. In response, a mechanical arm dropped and twisted to face Milton; on its end, a thin metal thing hung horizontally over his eyeline.

  A Xoeloid scientist entered the room. It raised its hand and held out a short stick of mineral. Reelai took the object and nodded in wordless acknowledgement. Once his assistant left, Reelai turned back and inserted the crystal into the back of the contraption and adjusted it over Milton’s forehead.

  ‘So you Xoeloid never speak to each other?’ asked Milton.

  ‘We are unequipped for verbal communication.’

  ‘How are you speaking?’

  Reelai lifted his head to reveal a glint of metal under his chin. The short strip had small artificial veins that dug into his skin. The surrounding flesh swelled unnaturally.

  ‘Artificial enhancements,’ he said. ‘The procedure was somewhat painful but one of us must be able to communicate with you.’

  Once Reelai was satisfied with the position of the device, he released his steady hand. ‘Do not move’.

  The thing above Milton’s head started emitting a slight buzzing and a strip of light. He felt a tingle under his flesh.

  The scanner hummed and retracted. Reelai hoisted it towards the ceiling and lowered another gadget. This one shone a short beam directly downward. The beam spread to a cone and an image of Milton’s Human brain appeared.

  Reelai manipulated the image with his thoughts, prompting it to rotate. The projection switched to different modes and colours. Then it separated into thin layers that shuffled through at a rapid rate. He seemed to be looking for something in particular.

  ‘Anything new?’ asked Milton.

  ‘There appears to be some development,’ explained Reelai without missing a beat. ‘I expected this. Your age and maturation is in perfect tandem with a rift-gate-active Vellnoa specimen. But the advancement does not come without risks.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Like the Xoeloid, the Vellnoa communicate with telepathy. Within a certain range they are able to communicate with their minds. Because you share some of their characteristics I fear you will emit a traceable signal.’

  Milton’s heart sank. ‘Wait …’ He pondered. ‘The Orisurrection and Reconotyre attacks, that’s how they found me?’

  ‘Correct, but we are unsure of how powerful the signal will become. This safe haven has been designed to dampen its range.’

  As Reelai spoke, he stayed intent on his study, his eyes narrowed in focus, solid and unmoving as he shuffled through the remaining brain layers.

  ‘Even now your signal is of fluctuating strength. I am unsure if these walls could conceal it for much longer.’ He paused. ‘However, we have discovered a solution.’ Reelai shot Milton a quick glance before reverting to his study.

  ‘What is it?’

  Reelai looked up and the split layers of the holographic brain fell neatly into a whole again. He curled his fingers over the mechanical arm and repositioned the image to give Milton a better view. The brain divided into a half cross-section.

  ‘An operation,’ he began. An image of a needle-like object appeared next to the brain. It spun round to position its pointed tip against the back end of the organ and inserted itself.

  Reelai explained, ‘An implant inserted into the core of your brain would disrupt the Vellnoa communication wavelength.’

  A moment passed before Milton could respond. ‘I’ll have to think about that one.’

  ‘Understood,’ said Reelai. ‘We will continue to infuse these walls with the dampening energy as long as we can.’ The hologram disappeared. ‘In the meantime, we would like to start testing while your signal is weak, to see if you are indeed capable of rift gate manipulation.’

  ‘Okay, so how would I go about breaking a rift gate? It doesn’t sound like an easy thing to do.’

  ‘First we must leave. To open a rift gate here will cause pressurisation problems. I have selected a nearby world with a safe open area where we can conduct the experiment. If you are willing, I would like to take you there for an exercise. In five of your harghs, the signal will recede enough to allow you to leave this facility safely.’

  ‘Sure, if you think it’s okay.’

  ‘We will take every measure of caution.’

  Milton looked up at Reelai’s mirrored eyes. ‘I trust you.’

  ‘Then you will need to concentrate on an intended destination and tap into an immense willpower that will force the shifting of space and time. You must visualise your location perfectly. It must be a place you have seen before and know well.’

  Stoneia came to mind. If this worked he could go home. A familiar warm feeling returned to him.

  Reelai pulled the arm away and extracted the crystal.

  ‘Thank you, Milton Lance. Get some rest. I will wake you in five harghs.’

  Milton stood and returned Reelai’s friendly bow. He crossed through the pentagon shaped exit, leaving the Xoeloid scientist to continue his studies. Reelai turned and clutched the crystal in his hand. The room faded dark. The mechanical arms raised and the platform lowered; its simple shape absorbed into the floor. The crystal in Reelai’s hand glowed bright between his fingers. Reelai tilted his head back and the door slid shut.

  As Milton walked down the shimmering tunnel he mulled over the things Reelai had said. The prospect of manipulating the universe was surreal. He found it hard to believe, but couldn’t stop thinking about the possibilities. He could hold down a job on the other side of the galaxy while living at home at the same time. He came to an intersection. Standing in the middle, he looked down each path, trying to recall which was the most familiar. One had a green tinge from this particular viewing angle. Recognising it as the path to their quarters, he continued on his way.

  As he found the last turn, his eye caught movement. Onto the floor flopped a long yellow tail, extending from a concealed alcove. Milton changed course and found Tazman pressed flat against a gold door. His head faced away and his ear planted firm on the smooth surface. Milton slowed and quieted his steps, rolling his boot grips on the floor. He placed his hands to the corners of his mouth to project his yell, ‘Hey!’

  The yellow tail shot straight and Tazman whirled around, slamming his back to the door, gasping for air. Milton held back his laughter with tight lips and snorted instead.

  ‘Yes, very amusing,’ said Tazman, turning back to his prior position.

 
; ‘Just what are you doing?’ Milton giggled.

  ‘I’m looking for secrets and you’re blowing my cover,’ he hissed. ‘There’s a noise like an engine or big machine or something.’

  Milton pressed his ear to the door, blocking his other with a finger. He heard a light breeze circulating through a hollow space. He pressed harder, anchoring his hand on the door. There was a slight clank that could’ve been in the distance. But he heard nothing of what Tazman described.

  ‘Nope, can’t hear anything,’ said Milton, stepping away.

  ‘Yeah well, it stopped now,’ Tazman shot back matter-of-factly.

  ‘Okay,’ Milton said, nodding his head to humour him.

  Tazman grimaced, turning back to the door for the confirming evidence.

  ‘Hey listen up,’ briefed Milton. ‘In about five harghs Reelai’s gunna take me to a planet to do some experiments. You wanna come?’

  He didn’t respond.

  ‘Tazman?’

  Milton stepped forward to address his face. Tazman’s eyes were glazed over and his tail drooped lazily to the floor. Milton clicked his fingers in front of his nose without response. Tazman’s lips parted slightly and said something, soft and undeterminable at first. Milton leaned in and Tazman increased his volume.

  ‘Whum … whum … whum,’ the simian chanted.

  Milton pulled him from the door, ‘Hey!’

  Tazman gasped and stumbled to the middle of the hallway. He spun on the spot with wide eyes, searching the walls and ceiling. After a moment, he turned back as if for the first time.

  ‘Oh, hello,’ he said cheerfully.

  ‘Do you want to come on the excursion?’ Milton repeated.

  ‘Ummm okay, yeah yeah, that would be fun.’

  Milton studied Tazman’s demeanour. ‘Well, I’m going back to our quarters. Reelai will be coming in to wake me. I’ll just find you then.’

  ‘Okay, coolies,’ said Tazman, thumping his body to the door again, flicking his tail excitedly.

  Milton doubled back to the turn-off and found the room. The bowl of fruit had been topped up into a small colourful tower. He went to his gel bed to find an extra slab of the stuff down one end, the ‘pillow’ he’d requested. He peeled its corner off the ‘mattress’ and it shed away with a sticky sound. Upon letting go, it flopped back, slapping down with a wobbling ripple.

  Milton peeled off his boots and vest. When he took off his shirt, the room’s lighting sank. He looked up and around. He couldn’t figure where the main light sources were. The walls simply throbbed on and off.

  He hung his vest and t-shirt off the edge of the table, crawled onto the bed and lay back. His specially made place was warm and comfortable. The pillow was the perfect height. Milton realised how tired he was; his eyelids sagged. The room’s lighting disappeared and he fell into the most comfortable sleep since leaving home. No nightmares either.

  Twelve

  A gentle nudge pulled Milton from his sleep. He opened his eyes to the robed form of his diligent guardian.

  ‘The time has come,’ said Reelai at a low volume. ‘I shall wait outside.’

  Milton sat up and watched him glide from the room. The lighting raised enough for Milton to navigate. The gel bed had now shaped itself to his sleeping position. Since his arrival, every time he lay down he felt more comfortable than the previous sleep. The technology was an immense relief after spending time on the hard Nova Corp bunks. His body felt light, well rested and ready for anything. Across the room, Tazman sprawled on his gel block with limbs akimbo and tail hanging off the side. Milton slipped on his shirt and went over to wake him.

  ‘Huh … wha …?’ Tazman moaned.

  ‘It’s time to go. Do you still wanna come to the planet?’ asked Milton.

  ‘Whumm. Yes I do,’ he replied.

  Milton tightened his bootlaces, slipped on his vest and met Reelai in the hallway. Tazman looked the exact opposite of how Milton felt. Dark rings and dried moisture marked his eyes. His tail dragged dead across the floor.

  ‘How much sleep did you get?’ Milton asked.

  ‘I got enough. Get off my back,’ Tazman snapped.

  Milton shrugged at Reelai. ‘Lead the way,’ he said cheerfully.

  The two engineers trailed after Reelai. He turned down another tunnel with a gold door at its end. Upon seeing the door Tazman’s tail lifted off the floor, his head twitched in alertness. He put a hand to the corner of his mouth to direct a whisper to Milton, ‘Looks like we’re moving up in the world.’

  The gold door slid open to a room with a different wall surface, the same colour as the outer layer of the safe haven. They crossed the dark threshold.

  A small hill of dark mass loomed in the centre of the wide room. Reelai waved his hand in a circular motion. The gold door slammed shut behind them.

  The mass lifted in the air. It rotated and adjusted its form. Spines sheathed in and out with a metallic sliding sound. Each of its seemingly randomly placed spikes had a designated place. The shape of the clump rotated and revealed a symmetrical and aerodynamic shape. Flat wings grew out and stretched wide. Smaller spines retracted and jagged edges flipped open to reveal an entrance towards the front of the craft.

  Reelai stepped up into the small ship, slightly tilting it with his weight. Milton followed in and found a wide bridge. Reelai went to the front and stood centred over a smooth platform on the curved wall.

  From a point on the ceiling, strips of light drew across the surface, drawing down the walls, tracing geometric shapes as they lit the room with a yellow glow. When they reached the floor they revealed a marked path, guiding Milton’s gaze to two seats rising from the floor.

  Reelai held out his open hands, stretching wide his large finger span. Sections of the front wall retracted, folding out to reveal a wide forward pane. Studying everything in amazement, Milton settled next to Tazman, who slumped with his arms folded.

  Reelai waved over the long, flat bench-like surface in front of him. It reacted, pulsing white in different sections. The entrance to the craft sealed over with a seemingly organic crawling of the spines.

  ‘What is all of this made of?’ asked Milton, still in awe.

  ‘The mineral is native to the Xoeloid homeworld,’ Reelai explained. ‘It is reactive to thought commands and its chemical properties can be manipulated to an extent. All of our technology is based on this, with fusion of various metals.’

  Impressed, Milton turned to Tazman with a raised eyebrow. Tazman stared ahead tiresomely with drool oozing from his mouth. He didn’t seem to be interested.

  Beyond the ship, an opening in the wall peeled back, unleashing the green of the nebula, crowned with the haven’s outer spines. The transport advanced towards the exit. Milton could feel no movement. The outer spikes twisted back and widened the path. The craft cleared the opening and turned away from the haven, down and to the right. Then, with no effort or delay, it meshed smoothly into a quantum jump, or so it seemed.

  ‘The tube is different,’ said Milton.

  ‘We are travelling on a more efficient dimension than what you are used to,’ explained Reelai.

  ‘Did you hear that, Tazman?’

  But the Freegu had dozed off.

  The mineral doors cracked and folded open to daylight. Milton hopped down after Tazman and landed on moist ground. He stepped away from the Xoeloid transport into a chilled breeze.

  Something squawked in the distance. Reelai had landed in a damp clearing, covered with dried cracking mud. A wall of claw-like trees surrounded the area. The sky was a colourless white. Milton turned to Tazman who was surveying the area with a miserable look on his face.

  ‘Well, now you can do whatever you want,’ Milton said still cheerful. ‘Just don’t wander too far.’

  ‘Pfft, whatever,’ said Tazman, taking off towards the dead tree line. Milton looked on with concern. With a flick of his tail, the Freegu plucked a dead stick from the earth, drew it into his hand, and whacked it against a tree on his
way into the scrub.

  Tazman seemed to be swinging his mood as frequently as his tail. Milton tried to recall any past instances of this behaviour in Nova Corp but nothing came to mind. Reelai came to his side.

  ‘I’m worried about him,’ Milton said. ‘But I think the fresh air will do him some good.’

  ‘I am sure,’ replied Reelai, surveying the area. ‘Shall we begin?’

  Milton nodded, now feeling a new worry sink in. ‘And what about the signal?’ he asked nervously.

  ‘At this moment, your signal wavelength is weak. I will detect if it grows to a dangerous level. In which case you will re-enter the ship; its dampening radiation will provide adequate shielding on the return journey.’

  Reelai was meticulous. He seemed to have thought of everything. Of course he did. With the life he had led, the horrors he had seen, he had no room for failure. An overlooked detail could lead to the eradication of his dwindling race. He seemed to take his burdens without complaint. A humble guy like him, Milton thought, would probably be honoured to serve his people. Milton didn’t want to let him down.

  ‘Okay,’ said Milton, psyching himself up. ‘I trust you, Reelai,’ he added, closing his fists. ‘So tell me how to do this.’

  ‘Close your eyes and think of a place close to your heart. You must be able to visualise it perfectly to bend it towards you. Your thoughts must be very specific.’

  ‘I’ll think of my home then,’ said Milton getting excited and shutting his eyes. He inhaled and pictured his homeworld. In his mind’s eye, he stood on a cliff, high above the planes of swirling orange dust. He could see his town below, surrounding the well, a tall structure, buried deep in the ground. Its pistons rose and fell, drawing out hidden moisture. His gaze tracked along the road that led to the spaceport. He had pictured taking the return journey on that road many times to see the people he cared about. Giant holes dotted the landscape to the horizon, left by generations of mining. Their open surfaces glowed orange and purple in the setting sun. The homey, dry heat warmed his skin as well as his heart.