Rift Breaker

by Tristan Michael Savage

  Maybe the apparent effects of the safe haven radiation had worn off. Then again, there was no doubt in his mind the Xoeloid and Milton were wrong in the first instance. Why would they be right? They didn’t scan him. They were wrong and Tazman had proved it — by scanning himself — maybe.

  Keeping his head completely still, he moved his eyes down and to the right. Luylla sat at the wall-mounted operating table with her back to him. She’d set pieces of her forearm meticulously before her. A well organised grid of the different parts.

  She held an electronic burner and reached it across her body to the base of her upper arm, its plating removed.

  ‘You need a hand?’ asked Tazman.

  She paused. ‘That’s not even funny,’ she replied, with an unimpressed look on her face, which was so obviously a put-on.

  ‘I mean, would you like me to help you?’ he said.

  She placed the tool on the table and leaned back in her chair. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good,’ said Tazman, leaping from the counter. He fidgeted with the chin strap and slid the delicate contraption off his head. ‘This is boring anyway.’

  The brain readout froze and reverted back to the instructional screen, which he had also failed to understand. He didn’t care anymore. He was always right in every case. He was in love with this simple fact and emphasised it whenever he could. He hung the contraption on a rack and dragged the other chair to Luylla’s left side. Tail slid through the gap as he sat down.

  ‘Hmmmm,’ he said, looking over his new and exciting task. She was trying to repair a shorted-out coupling feed.

  ‘This is kids’ stuff. I’ll have you punching out bad guys again in no time.’ He grabbed the burning tool. ‘This is a lot easier with two hands.’ He enjoyed having a job to do, knowing only he could accomplish such a professional result. He took a pair of non-conductive pliers and pinched them where he needed to. Then he lowered the burner and started to weld. Thin ribbons of smoke snaked from the spark. ‘I won’t be able to fix the screen without a replacement but I can get the remote pilot gizmo to work. You should be able to activate some systems but don’t count on flying straight.’

  ‘Just be careful, okay?’

  ‘Relax my dear. You’re in my capable hands. We can’t have an unarmed bounty hunter.’

  He glanced up and caught her smile that conveyed ‘I can’t believe you just said that’. She turned away and untied her dark hair, running her hand through as it fell to her shoulders. Tail flexed and flipped into the air.

  ‘Yeah, so like I was saying, you don’t seem to be the mercenary type,’ said Tazman.

  Luylla sighed. ‘We’ve been over this.’

  ‘Briefly,’ dismissed Tazman. ‘Normal mercs are sadistic materialists. They don’t care about anyone.’

  ‘And you think I do?’

  Tazman held back a laugh. ‘It’s obvious you do. Why are you even out here? Come on and share a little. You know about me.’

  She sighed, stared at the wall and began her story.

  ‘My father was a diplomat. He fought uphill political battles for most of his life and his people loved him — an important guy. As a kid I was frustrated with him being away all the time. To make it up to me, he offered to take me and mother on one of his missions. Being young and full of wonder, I jumped at the opportunity. Mother wasn’t so sure, but accepted for my benefit.’

  Tazman secured the coupling and screwed down its housing frame. He connected the new wire to its socket and started on the next one.

  ‘The ship was a diplomatic transport, with apparent “air-tight” security. When we boarded, the preliminary checks were taking a long time. Patience wasn’t … isn’t one of my strongest virtues; I got bored and snuck into the cargo hold. Then there was an explosion and a ringing in my ear. I don’t remember much after that. I woke in a medical centre and found out that a bomb had gone off in the passenger quarters.’

  ‘No way,’ said Tazman, pausing from his work. ‘An assassination?’

  She nodded. ‘That’s how I lost my arm. Everyone else onboard had been killed. Authorities found no trace of who did it. But I haven’t stopped looking.’

  Tail flicked one last time then stayed on the floor. Tazman continued working with no further questions. Luylla turned away and subtly wiped her eye on her wrist.

  ‘I’m sorry about what I said on the skyway platform,’ said Tazman.

  ‘You didn’t know.’

  A moment of most comfortable silence passed between them. Tazman replayed in his mind what he’d said to her and understood how much his words would’ve hurt.

  Then his thoughts turned to Milton and suddenly the weight came crushing down on his shoulders. He didn’t think much of his own elders, so he didn’t think much of anyone else’s. Tazman had left his tribe unannounced. He was still indifferent about the whole thing, but that didn’t mean Milton or Luylla would feel the same way about their home planets.

  Luylla cleared her throat. ‘Have you looked over the data?’

  ‘Not yet,’ he replied. ‘It should’ve finished decoding by now.’

  ‘I want to see it.’

  Tazman dropped what he was doing and moved to the wall-mounted computer at the foot of the table. He pulled the keypad out from its slot drawer and summoned the data. The information appeared and he keyed in the approximate time code. The screen divided into a grid of tiny grainy surveillance images.

  ‘I heard they came through the hangar first,’ he said, typing another command. A view of a hangar enlarged to full screen. He unclipped the monitor from the wall and swivelled it on its arm to where Luylla could see.

  The screen showed the colourless image of a hangar. A loader trundled across to a pile of cargo. Someone walked across the view shouting orders. Tazman recognised the face but couldn’t recall the name. The loader extended its arms and clamped to the handles of one of the larger supply crates. The machine reversed a moment then stopped when a bright flash came from the hangar doors in the background. The flare washed out the screen and the blurry image of the other crewmate ran across to the fire safety equipment.

  The flash faded down to the normal exposure. The hangar door had been breached; its right half bent out of shape and leaning out of position. A shape lingered behind the wall of smoke shrouding the airlock. The detail was obscured, but it looked to be a transport of some kind.

  The blur of an armoured creature swept through the smoke. Blasts of energy shot haphazardly from its weapon. A second invader followed and broke off in a different direction. The screen fuzzed with static and more creatures stormed through. The crewmember discarded the emergency equipment and changed direction to the exit. A cowardly shot hit him in the back and he fell forwards, sliding awkwardly. Blasts from multiple sides bombarded the cargo loader. The guy inside struggled with his buckled straps. He just got them off and sprang from the seat when a blast sliced between the bars of the safety guard and he slumped forward. The invaders spread out to the exits, in a slow advance on the rest of the ship.

  Growing enraged, Tazman focused himself on fixing Luylla’s arm.

  ‘Tazman, look,’ she gasped, pointing.

  He looked up the moment before the image fizzled out. He caught a glimpse of what Luylla had seen. He set down the burner and went to the keypad to set the time code back. Both regret and anger overcame him. He pulled the screen back around to see.

  He froze the image and enhanced the area around the broken hangar door. The view zoomed in. The Inhibitan’s onboard processor enhanced the blocky image gradually from top to bottom. He stood back, raising his hands into his face, not knowing what to do next, wanting to shrink into a ball.

  ‘I hate being right,’ he said. Tail flapped forward and knocked the screen into Luylla’s view.

  The image contained an unmistakable form and face, with a black hooded robe and two mirror eyes.

  Tazman paced up and down the cockpit and yelled at the hyperspace tube on each successive pass. ‘What the phut do
they want with him?’ he asked. ‘This was all about Milton. The Reconotyre, Orisurrection — they blew it all apart because they wanted him. Why? I don’t know if Reelai was telling the truth about the warpholes but he showed quite an interest in Milton’s brain. Oh no!’ he cried in realisation. He leapt into the co-pilot’s seat. ‘Milton said they were going to operate. He’ll be lobotomised!’ He twisted over towards Luylla to better make his point. ‘I should never have left him — not for a single spuckon.’

  The red destination alert went off. Tazman let out a cry. Tail swung in a high arc. He whipped his attention to the front. The tube disappeared and the green nebula exploded into view. Luylla accelerated to the spine covered ‘refuge’ once again.

  The alien complex looked exactly how they’d left it, but now felt more unwelcoming than ever.

  ‘All right, we act like nothing’s out of the ordinary. I’ll tell them we need to talk to him,’ he briefed. ‘Then we grab him and get out of there.’

  Tazman reached across the controls to receive the incoming transmission. ‘Come on, come on,’ he said, holding the gold disc to the front, ‘enough with the spooky noises.’ The boarding terminal extended. He hurried down to the hatch and listened as the terminal locked to the ship.

  Luylla appeared behind him. She cocked her pistols expertly and holstered them, leaving the flaps unsnapped.

  ‘Hey, can I have one of those?’ asked Tazman.

  She bit her lip and looked him over before handing him a gun.

  ‘Awesome,’ he said coolly, tucking it into the back of his pants.

  The door opened with the usual gust of vapour. Tazman and Luylla, without a word, strode on side by side. Tazman thought the place was creepy before, but now he knew murderers dwelled here. The gun rested against the base of tail. He was wholly prepared to draw if the Xoeloid got in his way.

  The duo cleared the tunnel. They had agreed to act naturally, but nervousness had already got the better of them.

  Tazman led the way. To his surprise, every door was open. He found the long corridor Milton had stormed through.

  Down in the distance, a Xoeloid scientist floated out from an opening. Tazman and Luylla stopped simultaneously. The scientist turned and glided towards them. Luylla’s hand drifted to her gun. Tail wisely stopped her, gently moving her arm away. They were already looking suspicious and standing still wasn’t helping. Tazman started forward and they continued their walk.

  The Xoeloid neared with fixed silver eyes looming down. Tazman straightened and stood taller, putting on his fake smile.

  ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘We’re here to visit our friend Milton. Is he home?’

  The scientist stopped. It didn’t speak; not Reelai. It gave the old head tilt. An awkward silence passed. Without straightening its head it turned and headed back the way it came.

  Tazman and Luylla exchanged a glance and followed. They had gone ten steps when the Xoeloid suddenly stopped. The duo halted. The creature twisted, achingly slow. It showed just a hint of its eye as it looked back at them, forcing another eerie moment before snapping to the front and continuing at a faster pace.

  The winding corridor rose and fell. The walls, at places, turned semi-transparent, revealing hints of hidden laboratories beyond — rooms with experiments and strange machines and other Xoeloid secrets.

  The Xoeloid made a sharp turn. The folds in its robe swung across the smooth floor. It entered a white room. Tazman turned the corner. Across the grainy floor, centred in the room, Milton lay face-down on a one-legged crystal platform with gel padding. Tazman slowed his step and entered. A polished metal machine limb hung from the ceiling. The exposed drill piece was coated red. Rounded and sharp blades hung from the walls.

  The Xoeloid stood to the side. Tazman bowed and tilted his head quickly, smiling to humour the creature, before approaching Milton. A metal circle had been grafted to the flesh in the back of the Human’s head; his hair was matted with dried blood. Tazman stretched his gaze to the corner of his eye. The scientist turned to leave. Luylla sidestepped around the Xoeloid as it passed. ‘Good riddance,’ he whispered.

  Tazman nudged Milton in the shoulder.

  ‘Hey, buddy,’ he whispered closely. ‘Wake up.’ Milton breathed deeper.

  Milton stirred and lifted. Tazman helped him turn onto his back. Milton’s sweaty face had drained of colour. His arm slipped and hung lifelessly off the side of the platform. The Human moaned and touched his head. His eyelid twitched and lifted.

  Tazman checked the door. Luylla was looking down the hallway with a hand to her sidearm. She turned back with a worried look. Tazman leaned close to his drowsy friend.

  ‘Milton, listen to me,’ he said. ‘The Xoeloid killed our ship-mates. Reelai was on the Reconotyre. We have to leave right now.’

  ‘Psst,’ said Luylla. Tazman spun and was jolted by a cutting voice.

  ‘He is well,’ Reelai announced, moving into the room behind three of the other scientists. ‘The operation was a success.’ Luylla backed herself to Tazman’s side. The Xoeloid spread through the room. ‘This is good news for our kind.’

  ‘That’s great,’ laughed Tazman, slapping a hand on Luylla’s shoulder. ‘Isn’t that great?’ he asked her. She nodded.

  ‘Welcome back,’ added Reelai.

  The Xoeloid stared down, their facial muscles fixed. Reelai moved closer to check on Milton. The reflections in Reelai’s eyes caught their darker shapes against the white of the room. He returned his gaze to Tazman and stared expectantly, prolonging the uncomfortable silence.

  Tazman smiled and nodded, darting his vision evenly across the scientists. His ears twitched. Tail was caught in a freeze. He could hear Luylla’s anxious breath next to him. Her rapid heartbeat matched his. The Xoeloid were not going to let Milton leave. Tazman looked at the floor and defocused his eyes for a lingering moment. He inflated his lungs in an attempt to calm his heart, before opening his mouth to prompt her.

  ‘Luylla.’

  They both drew their guns.

  Eighteen

  Reelai’s lackeys lunged. Tazman gripped the pistol with two hands and squeezed the trigger. The round shot passed a Xoeloid head and burned a hole in the ceiling. Long fingers whipped over the firearm. Tazman held tight and pulled away but the gun was snatched clear and sent him into a stumble. He was lifted by the neck and pressed against the wall. Tail lashed at the Xoeloid, wrapping around the arm that held him. Tazman clawed at the freezing hand. His airway sealed. The Xoeloid’s grip tightened with intent to kill.

  Luylla nailed two scientists in the midsection with a blast each. They merely flinched. Ghostly hands attached to lanky arms swatted her weapon away and secured her robotic appendage. The machine limb whined under the strain, making zero headway.

  Luylla squirmed, lashing out her flesh arm for a strike. She planted an ineffective blow to the Xoeloid’s torso. Rubbery digits gripped the back of her neck and forced her to turn around. Her arms were restrained behind her back.

  ‘You are going nowhere,’ sneered Reelai.

  Milton sat up. Light flooded his retinas. He blinked. Blurry images sharpened to sounds of struggle. Black towering shapes of the Xoeloid pinning his friends. Tazman flipped his foot up and tried to kick his attacker. The muscles in the arm that held him flexed and pacified him. Tail drooped. Luylla jumped and kicked against the operating table. Her captor pulled her back, taking both her arms in a single hand to grab her hair.

  Milton lifted his legs off the table. Leaning woozily against the bed, he reached down to snatch a loose object from the floor.

  ‘Stop,’ he ordered, raising the pulse pistol. The Xoeloid turned. One of them began to advance but hesitated. ‘Release them.’

  Reelai stepped towards him. Milton tightened his grip. The threat stopped Reelai mid0-step. The barrel of the gun felt cold against his temple.

  ‘Put them down or my precious brain’ll be gone,’ he slurred.

  The Xoeloid scientists who held his friends looked to
Reelai. A lingering moment passed. Then Reelai gave a nod and they obeyed Milton’s order.

  Luylla pushed away aggressively and joined Milton on his side of the room. Tazman’s feet touched the floor. He sidestepped across the wall, gulping for air and rubbing his neck. He swept up the other gun and clicked the lever. The pistol charged. He then aimed at Milton. The Xoeloid flinched.

  ‘Let’s go,’ said Milton, backing to the door. Luylla followed.

  ‘You are not leaving this facility,’ shot Reelai.

  ‘Dead or alive, he is,’ replied Tazman, backing out behind them. The momentarily confused Xoeloid stepped aside.

  ‘I’ll kill him. I will,’ Tazman howled. ‘Don’t forget, I’ve got space dementia. Oooohhhhaaaa,’ he mocked, twinkling his fingers.

  The three of them stepped into the hallway. The Xoeloid remained frozen. Reelai watched on with narrowed eyes that held nothing less than pure contempt. Milton stared right back and shook his head in disappointment.

  Milton, Tazman and Luylla started back down the tunnel, increasing the pace to a light jog as they gained distance. Milton clasped Tazman’s shoulder and hobbled faster in an effort to keep up. Tazman slowed and gripped Milton’s arm.

  ‘This way,’ pointed Tazman, leading them down a familiar-looking passage.

  A gold door slid in from the right. They ran into it with hands slapping the surface. A second door closed a short distance behind them.

  Tazman kicked the barricade. ‘Damn it. Not again,’ he cried, raising the nozzle of his gun.

  ‘Hold on,’ said Milton, pushing down his aim, ‘I think these doors are operated by thought commands.’

  He felt the surface of the door with his palm, running his fingers along its embossed markings. He closed his eyes and tightened his jaw in concentration. In his mind he pictured nothing else but the door sweeping open. The surface began to shift under his touch. He opened his eyes in astonishment, which halted the door, having only moved a mere crack.