The Rift Rider

by Mark Oliver

  "There must be a way to stop them," Charlie said. "The destroyer hasn't left Seenthee space yet, has it?"

  Bei straightened, gathered himself and said, "Not yet. The data says it'll take them a week or so to build the engine and prep the destroyer. The Corporation have an orbital off Moon Two. That's where they'll be making the modifications."

  "Then we still have time."

  Bei stroked his chin. "Sabotage and abduction our only options. If we find a way inside the prototype destroyer, grab this scientist and destroy his engine, we'll stop them. But that's a hell of an if."

  "I think I know who can do it."

  Bei raised an eyebrow.

  In a flash of green, Charlie changed form. Hovering inside the van, basking its interior in his green flow, he raised his hands, and said, his voice now thick and powerful and godlike, "Me."

  "I thought your plan was to find this Yojim and get home. Why would you risk you life to help us? We're not your people."

  "When I had no hope, you helped me. Without that help, I'd be in a hundred chopped up pieces right now, with this Doctor Sree prodding my dissected bollocks. And this Corporation needs to be stopped. With this new power, I can't stand by and let them destroy a race of people. "

  "But how will you get on board the destroyer?"

  "You've seen what I can do. I dropped through a marble floor. Energy bursts went through me. There's got to be more things I can do. Brother Yojim will know. When we meet him, we can come up with a plan."

  The blue man frowned. "I don't know, Charlie."

  Charlie smiled. "The last I heard you were the most famous smuggler on Seenthee. Or was I wrong?"

  Bei's face went serious. He ran his hands through his hair, raised his chain and said, "You heard right. Now let's see what this heap can do. We've got a lot of work to do."

  Chapter 19

  Once they entered Jajag city, Bei took over the driving again. They had been driving for a while when Charlie decided to lower the window and a take in the scent of the city.

  He instantly regretted it. The stench of raw sewage and decaying waste flooded into the van. He covered his mouth and nose, fighting the urge to wretch. Bei slid the window closed again, sparing Charlie the indignity of puking over his pyjama robes.

  "The outer half of the city hasn't had a working waste disposal system in two generations," Bei said. "It's the same story in every major city. The Corporation keeps their zones in pristine working order, and lets the rest go to shit."

  Shit's putting it lightly, Charlie thought as he studied the squalid world outside his window. The city was so far down on its heels it was barely above ground. Row after row of windowless, apartment blocks lined the streets, sparsely lit by ancient petrol generators, oozing oil onto the broken pavements. Every once and while a once majestic building, now flaking and crumbling, or a half-built shopping mall, long since abandoned, interrupted the wall of derelict blocks, giving Charlie a glimpse of what the city had looked like in happier days.

  Inside these wrecked buildings, lived the poor and the desperate. They made their homes out of whatever fabric, or material they could find in the cities seemingly limitless supply of rubbish. The trash collected in bus-sized piles within which mud-caked youths fought with monstrous looking vermin for scraps. He doubted even Dickens could have imagined such wretched creatures as these and wondered how they survived when winter came.

  Right now, however, Seenthee's most southern city was in the midst of summer. The heat was stifling and the air sticky. But inside the van, Charlie sat in cool comfort. He felt the now familiar knock of guilt at his door.

  "Why doesn't the Corporation do anything about this?" he asked.

  "How do you think they recruit people? They make it so bad that people would sell their parents for the chance to get out of this dump and into the luxury of the walled off Corporation zones."

  "People work for the Corporation even though they know its them that's ruining the place? That's crazy."

  "The recruiters come to the schools and select the most ruthlessly ambitious out of the high performers. Those sons of bitches, still in their early teens but already sick of life in the gutter, will do whatever it takes. And once the Corporation has recruited them, their only way out is in a body bag. They don't take too kindly to resignations."

  "What about everyone else?"

  "The rest scratch out a living working for Corporation subsidiaries, doing all the backbreaking, soul-destroying jobs they want nothing to do with. But a proud few refuse to accept this as their lot. In their case, they have two choices, a life of crime or the resistance. Either way, if caught, they face execution, imprisonment or a short, miserable life working the mines. But better the chance of freedom than the certainty of slavery."

  "What made you stop smuggling and join the resistance?"

  Bei's eyes emptied, as if viewing a memory behind them. "That's a story for another day."

  Charlie watched the turen outside as they prowled the dark streets. "Why haven't I seen any silver-skinned turen?"

  Bei took his mitts off the control pads, cracked his knuckles said, "The Corporation breeds those silver bastards behind their walls." He gripped hold of the pads again, harder this time.

  "Like clones?"

  Bei shrugged. "Clones, robots, aliens, who knows? That's the most closely guarded secret on Seenthee. I doubt no more than a handful of the very top silvers know the truth. You see only silvers can run the Corporation."

  "Has it always been like that?"

  "The Corporation and silvers are two sides of the same coin. But it was the Corporation that came first. You see it actually began life as a simple arms manufacturer. But it got so rich and powerful during the eighty-year war it expanded, seizing monopolistic control of every market on the planet. That's when the first silvers started to appear. They appeared out of nowhere, taking every position at the top of the Corporation.

  "Nobody mentioned it at first. It had been common to genetically change skin colour for over a century, so most people assumed it was some fanatical approach to business management.

  "And then when Seenthee looked set to destroy itself, the Corporation stepped in, and, using its massive wealth, political ties and superior weaponry, seized control of the planet. At that point, everyone was just glad the war had ended. They didn't give a shit what colour skin their saviours had."

  "Some saviours," Charlie said, glancing through the van's windows.

  "Yeah. It didn't take them long to show their true colours, so to speak. In all that time only one silver has ever gone against the Corporation, a science genius called Krest. He was young too, no older than you."

  "Why?"

  When Bei answered, his voice held in it a quiet awe. "For the same reason we all do stupid things. For love." The blue man shook his head. "He fell for a regular turen. And they screwed him for it. The Corporation anti-terror squad spent weeks torturing his silver arse before they finally killed him. His lover too."

  Charlie thought back to the hours he had spent in the torture room. Never again, he told himself.

  "You know it's funny," Bei said. "Sree repeatedly refers to a scientist called Krest in his writing. Maybe it's the same one. If he's old enough, it's possible Sree could have worked with him before he turned traitor. I mean it makes sense. This Krest was hailed as an innovator. This new technology could well be based on the ideas he left behind."

  Later, Bei slowed the van, thus ending their journey the planet, one that had taken them from the frosty plains of the North to the sultry nights of the South. They came to a hovering stop beneath a monstrous fifty-storey block. All but the bottom three floors lay in darkness. The building loomed above them like a giant sentinel of the night.

  Thieves, time and weather had stripped bare the lower floors of the building. All of the interior walls had collapsed and only the giant concrete support beams remained. Between them the Jajag city poor had erected makeshift shelters, forming a raggedy, zigzaggi
ng village.

  "Home sweet home" Bei said.

  He drove the van slowly inside, manoeuvring between the clusters of tents, their occupants stirring from the unexpected purr of a hovercraft. Halfway inside, they parked, bringing the van to a stop beside a large, surprisingly well-tended tent. As they pulled up a thin man stepped out and sniffed the air suspiciously. Bei wound down the window and shouted a friendly greeting at the man. The man responded with a large toothless smile.

  Charlie stepped out of the van, covering his nose against the smell. Above him a rusted pole supported a swaying lamp, its greasy wire connecting to a generator bolted to the floor. It flickered on and off, threatening to die out at any moment. "I imagined something much grander," he said.

  Bei smiled, shut the van door, and went over to the tent man, giving him an elaborate alien handshake. The tent man looked happy to see Bei and even happier to pocket the money the blue man slipped him after the handshake. "Any trouble?" Bei asked him.

  The man shook his head and grunted in the negative.

  "Good," Bei said, walking to the back of the hover van. He opened it, pulled out a box and placed it on the floor next to the tent. Four grubby, childish faces now peeked between its flaps. Bei did not bother going back to lock the van. "Keep your eyes open. There might be trouble coming."

  The tent father nodded, his face serious.

  A few metres away, stood a rickety lift. From the looks of it, nobody had used it in decades. Bei walked over to it, and reached inside a hole to the left of it. Curious, Charlie peered over the blue man's shoulder. Deep within the hole gleamed a palm-sized square. It was the same blue as the rocket ride's activation slab. Bei placed his hand against it. A few seconds later, the lift door slid open with an unexpected smoothness.

  Charlie followed Bei into the lift. The control panel fitted to the lift wall surprised him with its complexity. He had expected rinky-dink levers but this panel looked better suited to a spaceship control deck. Bei ran his fingers across it in a well-practised manner and the lift hurled upwards. The acceleration gave Charlie a fierce jolt. Bei, standing with arms folded across his chest, chuckled to himself.

  Charlie had scarcely regained his balance when the lift came to a shuddering stop. He lost his footing and tumbled. Only Bei's outstretched arm stopped him from clattering to the floor.

  The lift door opened straight onto an apartment of epic proportions.

  "Welcome to the penthouse suite," the blue man said.

  They stepped out of the lift, and the room's lighting automatically grew stronger. The lift door closed behind them as if it had been waiting for them to leave. Charlie scanned the carpeted floor for a doormat. His bare feet were coated with dust and grime.

  "Don't worry," Bei said collapsing on a crescent moon sofa in the centre of the room. "The carpet's self cleaning." He kicked off his boots, placed his feet on the table and rested his head against the cushions stacked up behind him. "Come on, take a seat."

  Charlie padded across the carpet, the soft pile slipping deliciously between his toes, and joined Bei on the sofa. A sigh of pleasure escaped from his lips as the cushions pushed against his back and bottom. After twenty hours sat in the van, the sofa felt like heaven.

  From his vantage point in the middle of the room, Charlie took a good look around the apartment. The furniture was an eclectic mix of wood, animal bone, metal and leather. Paintings hung on every wall, and sculptures, figurines, busts, exotic carvings and other arty knick-knacks littered the room. Bei looked far from the arty type, yet even with his barbaric lack of appreciation for art, Charlie could tell the smuggler knew his art. The man had more surprises up his sleeve than a kleptomaniac magician.

  In one corner, several bean bag sized cushions lay in a circle below a bug like chunk of metal embedded in the ceiling. Charlie recognised it immediately. He had seen plenty of these holographic game projectors in the harem and during his short stay grown competent in the planet's fighting games

  Shutters covered the whole side of one wall. Bei reached into the sofa and the blinds slid open, revealing a glass edged balcony. Water pipes, plants and metallic furniture lay dotted around it, seemingly floating mid-air.

  Beyond it lay Jajag city.

  In the distance, a grey wall, larger even than Lady Ori's, enclosed the central area of city. On top of the wall, rays of light from passing searchlights illuminated rows of cannons pointing downwards onto the city.

  “Behold the Corporation wall,” Bei said.

  “It’s massive.”

  “And there's one in every major city."

  “Has the resistance ever got through it?”

  “Long ago one team did. Here in Jajag. It caused quite a stir. They killed a handful of silvers and spent the next two years having their testicles and nipples singed and their nails and teeth removed. That kind of put off other resistance fighters. Suicide's one thing, two years of agony is another.”

  “They've given up then?” asked Charlie.

  “They’re just biding their time for a better chance of success. I guess that's where you come in."

  Beyond the gaming pit, a door creaked open a fraction. Charlie looked over. A thin band of light spilled from the room, but nobody stepped out. Before Charlie could ask Bei who was inside, Awani burst out of a door on the opposite side of the room.

  "You're back," she screamed, running and diving on top of Charlie. "I heard the Corporation found you," she said between the kisses she was planting on Charlie's forehead and cheeks. "I thought they'd got you."

  Charlie, overwhelmed by the pink girl's attention, sat and silently let the kisses rain down on him, too stunned to speak. His heart raced. He had hoped for a friendly reunion, but had never dreamed of such a display of affection.

  "What about me?" Bei said, disgruntled. "I was in danger too, you know."

  Awani slid off Charlie and crawled over to the blue man, giving him a hug. "I'm glad you made it too, old man."

  "Didn't I tell you the kid would do okay?" Bei said, once Awani had settled down and taken a seat next to Charlie.

  She laid her hand on Charlie's thigh and clenched, as if holding him down to prevent him from running off into danger once more. "I'm just glad he got out in one piece."

  As she spoke Charlie stole a glance at her attire. Dressed in tights shorts and a top that started low and finished high, she looked incredible. She noticed his staring, and shot him a smile that sent lightening bolts through his chest, stomach and crotch.

  Be said, "One piece? Awani you should have seen him. He was incredible." He turned his amber eyes onto Charlie, and said, "Go on show her."

  Charlie, always partial to a little showboating, was happy to oblige. He had a deep conviction that if he played his cards right tonight she would be his. With the speed of thought, he changed form.

  Awani's mouth dropped to the floor. She stared at him wide-eyed for a time, saying nothing. Then with upmost caution she reached out to touch him. Her fingers passed straight through.

  "Incredible, isn't it?" Bei said.

  "How is it possible?" Awani said.

  "He's a child of the Divide," replied a booming voice.

  All three of them turned towards it. The far door lay wide open. From out of the room stepped Brother Yojim. He had to duck his head and lean sideways to squeeze his massive bulk through the doorframe. He wore a knee length blank sarong and fabric slippers. The rest of him remained bare. Muscles rippled across his stomach and his chest looked as if it had been carved out of red rock. He had a scimitar nose, pointed ears and arched eyebrows. All that was missing was a pair of horns, cloven hooves and a trident.

  Like a flame puffed out by a strong gust, Charlie blew back into his physical form. A cold thrill tickled his spine. Even with his nonreligious upbringing the red alien looked like bad news. Is this really my saviour? Charlie asked himself.

  Brother Yojim strode towards them. Bei and Awani rose to their feet. Charlie did likewise, stretching himself to his f
ull height in hope of hiding his mounting apprehension.

  "I found him for you, Charlie," Awani said, moving towards the pathfinder. She met him halfway across the room, grabbed a handful of red bicep, and led him to her friends, her face beaming with satisfaction. "Brother Yojim, please let me introduce you to Bei Lowaiki and Charlie Scott."

  The big man shook Bei's hand in the turen way and then stepped in front of Charlie. The robundee pathfinder filled the room like a red shadow. Eyes like black pearls stared down at Charlie, deep and unreadable.

  "It's good to see you again, Charlie," Brother Yojim said, his face cracking into a half-smile, lending his demon's countenance a more human appearance.

  The fear that had clenched Charlie's heart slackened a little and he held out his hand. It disappeared under the massive red hand sliding over it in greeting. "Thank you," he said, his heart pounding. "I owe you my life."

  "It is I who am I debt. To your parents," Brother Yojim said, gripping his hand tight. "And I plan to repay it."

  "My parents?" Charlie said.

  "You have your father's eyes you know," the pathfinder said.

  Charlie sat motionless, his brain threatening to short circuit at any moment.

  Bei coughed, said, "We better give you two some privacy," and motioned for Awani to follow him out onto the balcony."

  "No," Charlie said. "I want you to hear whatever he has to say. We're in this together now. No more secrets."

  Bei raised an eyebrow and said, "So be it. But if we're going to talk, let's do it over some food. I'm starving. Thirsty too." He turned to Awani. "Go and grab a bottle of Robundee Lava from the heater." He took a look at Charlie's. "Actually, you better make it three bottles."

  By the time Brother Yojim finished talking, they had polished off three plates of deep fried legs (Charlie had pushed aside any imaginings of what kind of animal they had once belonged to), four steaming bowls of spicy Gada root soup, Bei's speciality, and two bottles of the fiery robundee alcohol. The spirit was the colour and thickness of blood, and mixed the fiery tang of tequila with the heady punch of an espresso.