by Paul A. Rice
The dull gleam from the vehicles’ metal flanks was of the same, silvery-green colour that Ken had seen before. It wasn’t really a colour as such but merely seemed to emanate a fluid hue, one that made him feel as though it was the colour. Ken walked over to examine the awesome machines, it’s what any small boy would have done, and right then it was exactly what he felt like, a small boy who had recently stumbled into his comic book superhero’s secret underground lair. He stood and stared at the vehicles. All the windows were of the deepest green, nearly black, and had a similar appearance to the lift door. The glass looked to be very thick and also extremely solid. Walking around one of the monsters, Ken saw there were no door handles, aerials, radiator grilles or lights. A sheer, purposefully-flowing flank was all he saw. Form and function blended together in perfect harmony. It looked the business.
He turned to Mike, saying: ‘That is a mean pair of wagons, Mikey, what the hell are they?’
Mike laughed and said, ‘Believe it or not, these guys call them Spears!’ He nodded toward George in reference. ‘Now, that is more than a coincidence, eh? I was having a little play with them the other day. Wait until you see, it’s barking mad!’ He grinned and Ken failed to prevent a small laugh of his own.
‘Please do not touch the vehicle, Kenneth!’ George’s warning cut through the air. ‘It is not prepared for you yet.’ He gave Ken a ‘come hither’ wave of the hand and turned toward the room with the darkened windows.
Following George, Ken entered the separate room, watching the door welcome him with a mechanical whine as it opened inwards. It was a small office with several desks and a sloping table that sported a glass top. George told him to place his hand upon the glass, palm side down. As he did so, Ken felt the surface under his fingers liquefy, become almost gelatinous. It quivered and then he felt a coldness course up and down the length of his hand. There was a slight suction effect at the same time. Looking down, Ken saw that his hand was almost submerged into the glass. Then the sensation stopped abruptly and his hand was once more simply resting upon the dark exterior of a now completely solid surface.
George stepped up next to him and waited whilst a small keypad slid out of the machine. When it had, he said, ‘7712-32A’ and then waited whilst the keypad illuminated briefly, before tapping in some more numbers and letters. The table under Ken’s hand glowed. George said, ‘There we go, Kenneth. Welcome, welcome to the Team, my dear fellow!’
Ken lifted his hand and looked at it – there were no marks and he felt no pain. ‘What the hell was that, some sort of fingerprinting device?’ he asked.
George nodded, saying: ‘Yes, it is something like that, actually, it scans your entire body and records the DNA found in the sweat on your palm – it cannot be forged and is totally secure.’ He grinned at Ken with an elvish glint in his blue eyes. ‘Totally foolproof and absolutely secure, one hundred per cent secure!’
‘Wow!’ Ken’s reply was beyond corny, he knew, but didn’t really know what else to say at that precise moment.
George beckoned him once more and he moved over to where the old man had opened an unseen cupboard – inside, dangling from metal coat hangers, were several of the strange flight suits. Ken took the one offered to him and then turned to see Mike relieving George of a second suit. Mike said that he should put the suit on over his normal clothes, and so, without further ado, they both kitted themselves out accordingly. Tugging the last of the strange zips into place above his ankle, Ken asked where they were going.
George’s reply made his eyes widen.
‘You are going back to your parallel, back to where you started,’ he said. ‘These suits are for when you wish to change size, my boy – they are for when we use Shrink Down in either mode, forward or reverse.’ George opened and closed his fingers quickly, as though his basic hand movement would be more than enough of an explanation. ‘Don’t be concerned, Kenneth,’ he said, with a wink. ‘You have used it before and you will soon get used to it, after all, how do you think we managed to get you here, how do you think you will go back?’
Ken had no idea, but the smile of reassurance flowing across Mike’s face helped to quieten the small voice of insanity that had begun to pipe up in the darkened corner of his mind again. ‘Run, Ken, run now!’ He mentally pushed it away, but with the promise that he might listen later.
The point of the whole thing, George explained, was that some parallels required them to be larger, whilst others required them to be microscopic – it all depended on where you were and where you were going to be.
‘It is all rather simple, really…’ he said, with a smile.
The old man’s demeanour made it seem as though his description of the stupefying ability to change sizes, and carry out some form of inter-dimensional travel, was no more complicated than the two-times-table. Ken nodded, but knew deep inside that his own limit of understanding had most likely been breached long ago.
George said that since they had both been manipulated from their previous size to this place without the suits on, then it would probably be fatal for them if it were to happen again. It was after all the main reason why they had been so ill, so tired. Mike’s gunshot wound, of course, had exacerbated his own particular situation. George was very matter-of-fact when he told them this, and then, turning to Mike, he said, ‘Why don’t you show Kenneth how things work around here? Spend as long as you like and I will come back down later when you have finished.’ He smiled at them and then walked off, disappearing through the door into the corridor beyond.
Mike nodded in confirmation, saying: ‘Come on then, big guy, what are you waiting for?’ He almost ran back out into the hanger where the Spears waited in silence for them. Upon reaching one of the vehicles, Mike told Ken to put his hand on the side window. ‘Go on,’ he said, with a grin, ‘check this out!’
Ken did as he was asked, as soon as his palm touched the surface he heard a hissing thud coming from within the vehicle, he felt the door move and stepped back in caution. The door opened, rising upwards and coming to rest overhead. It resembled the crazy design of some Lamborghini or other that he’d seen in a car magazine somewhere. Looking inside, he saw that there were no immediate surprises to be had – two bucket seats, very deep and supportive, sat either side of a central armrest which had a couple of gear levers protruding from its centre. A gracefully designed console swooped around below the windscreen with its lines only being broken by the steering wheel. This was more like the object one would expect to be found in a grand prix car and actually looked nothing like a wheel at all. There were several buttons embedded in its butterfly shape and a glass display panel cut into the dashboard behind. Two metal pedals glinted in the shadow of the foot well.
‘That’s all pretty normal.’ he thought to himself, and then inwardly laughed at his bizarre reaction. ‘Normal, yeah, it’s normal. Okay. Everything is just fucking normal, isn’t it, Ken?’ He shook his head and looked at Mike who was talking about something. Ken didn’t quite catch what his friend was saying as his own mind was starting to melt again.
Seeing Mike sliding into the driving seat, he walked around the other side and looked at the passenger door, without a sound it slid upwards and open. Climbing into the seat, he sat and watched as Mike placed his hand onto the larger of the two gear levers. The dashboard glowed briefly, blinked once and then illuminated with a varying set of numbers and letters.
With the soft blue glow reflecting off his features, Mike turned to him.
‘Gentlemen, start your engines!’ he said, with another toothy grin. Both doors rotated downwards and closed without a sound. With that, he pushed a button and the Spear’s motor started with a sound very much like an extremely-powerful diesel engine. Mike blipped the throttle gently and Ken watched as a couple of lights on the dashboard flickered into life.
Looking behind over the shoulder of the bucket seat, Ken saw that the rear of the Spear was devoid of any normal vehicular furnishings. The vast interior was without seat
s and was merely an open area with a thick covering of carpet. The dark windows filled the inside with a weird, green ambience. Lying across the floor were two black holdalls and several rectangular green boxes. Resting on top of the boxes were two sets of very familiar body armour. He blinked as the realisation came to him.
Then, Mike touched something and right before Ken’s eyes the entire windscreen came to life. It looked like a curved TV screen and glowed with a soft blue light, there were some digits flashing down the left side. Mike smiled, and said, ‘This, my friend, is the best goddamned satellite navigation device that you will ever see, anywhere!’
Looking carefully, Ken saw the outline of the building showing itself on the screen, at the same time he also made out what looked to be a never-ending flow of tiny lights rushing by outside, it almost seemed as though the thing was able to see right through the wall. The blue glow reminded him of the thermal night-sights he had used before, only this was a lot bigger and almost pin sharp in its clarity. However, just like Mike had said, the bright lights flickering across its blue face were unlike anything Ken had ever seen, anywhere...
‘Is that what I think it is?’ he whispered.
His partner laughed. ‘Yeah, man, this thing can see right through anything, and although I haven’t driven it yet, it also does some pretty amazing stuff other than this!’ Mike turned to him and said, ‘Mind your fingers!’ With that, he touched another button on the dashboard. Ken was immediately locked into his seat by three straps that appeared from behind his shoulders and across his lap. ‘Just touch the metal bit in the middle when you want to get out,’ his companion said, before going on to demonstrate some of the other gadgets in the vehicle.
One such amazing ‘extra’ was a device that Mike called the ‘Pusher’. With a simple push of its silver button, the device would dispense some form of energy, an invisible force that would ‘push’ things away from the front of the Spear. He pointed at the button, saying: ‘Best not use it in here, though – we wouldn’t want to find ourselves with the wall down, now would we?’
Reaching upwards, he then proceeded to show Ken how to illuminate the interior of the vehicle, and not by using lights, either. With a mere the touch of a palm, the roof became transparent, as did the side windows. Then there was the glowing windscreen that displayed almost everything from the vehicle’s location to what the weather would be doing the next day. It was all touch-screen technology, but the more it was used the less the driver would have to touch it, the device picked up thoughts and would instantly flicker with the information desired by the ‘Rider’s’ mind.
‘That’s what George calls the drivers,’ Mike informed him with a grin. ‘Mate, we’re gonna to be Spear Riders, how cool is that?’
Ken thought it was beyond cool – in fact, he was frozen with fear and apprehension. Mike saw his passenger’s tension and smiled as he told Ken to relax, saying that he would get used to it with a bit of time. Ken wasn’t so sure, and said that he would like to get out for a while. Mike agreed and released the seat belts, the men touched the doors and waited for the wings to ride upwards before getting out.
Mike went to the rear of the vehicle and with a slight touch from his hand, made the lid of the boot rise up. Hefting one of the long bags out of the rear, he unzipped it and started to empty out its contents onto the floor of the Cavern. Inside the bag was all their gear from the real world. All of their weapons, ammunition, magazines, grenades and light sticks – everything Ken had either abandoned in the bunker, or had lost since starting his journey into this fantastical place, now lay upon the floor in front of his eyes.
‘I thought that all this stuff was destroyed, I mean…’ he said, nodding towards their weapons.
Mike looked up and with a wink, said, ‘Parallels, Kenny, parallels. Normality is something that you are gonna have to get used to saying goodbye to…’
Ken nodded, and stood in silence as he watched Mike unpack their kit. The whole lot looked totally out of place in the high-tech cavern. Merely seeing their equipment reminded Ken of the very recent past, he shook his head in disbelief and turned to Mike who was busily explaining everything.
He said that all their gear was there, and that he had checked it himself the day before. There was only one thing in the other holdall and it came in the shape of a triangular, umbrella-like object. ‘Interstellar satellite phone, my old son!’ Mike said, with a happy grin.
Ken was surprised at that piece of information as he had banked upon the Spear being able to do almost anything on its own without help. He asked, ‘How come we need back up communications then, Mikey?’
The answer he received from Mike only served to fill him with more apprehension. ‘Because, well...because these Spears are the first of their kind, they’re prototypes that have not been used with Shrink Down before. George said if they malfunction then we are gonna need a second set of comms. This sail is very similar to the ones they used when they worked alongside the Egyptians, can you believe that? They know the sail works so it’s probably best to have it as a reserve, and they will only talk to us if it’s urgent anyway. Otherwise they can watch and talk to us via the Spears.’ Mike, unable to help himself, laughed happily once more.
Ken nodded and then stood there in silence, wondering what was next on the menu in this crazy place. Mike was like a kid at Christmas, brimming with excitement as he showed his best friend all of his new toys. He finished with the satellite sail, then rose to his feet and stroked the sumptuous flank of the Spear.
Turning to Ken, he said, ‘Pretty decent transport for an old soldier like you huh, Kenny – bloody kids these days, they don’t know they’ve been born, do they?’ Mike laughed out happily as he was given the silent middle finger in reply.
Ken grinned, saying: ‘What the hell are we doing here? Please tell me that I can wake up now...’ He punched the big man on the shoulder and laughed at the idiocy of their situation.
Mike, looking derisively at his friend, replied with: ‘Jesus, don’t you listen, is it your age or what? We’re gonna go and get the bad guys and save what’s left of the world. It’s that simple!’ He stood there looking at Ken as though his friend truly was stupid.
Ken wasn’t quite sure as to how much of that remark was jollity and how much was deadly seriousness. However, he suspected the odds weighed fairly heavily in favour of the latter. ‘Mike’s sure in tune with all of this,’ he thought. ‘He looks like a man on a mission!’ Mind racing, he turned back to stare at the other equipment that Mike was now checking again.
Their rations, along with several cases of water, were now encased within two of the containers held in the rear of the vehicle, Mike informed him that George had their medical kit and would bring it down later on.
‘Someone has obviously thought of everything, someone has a plan going on here, I just wish I knew what the hell it was,’ Ken thought, as he helped Mike with the bags. Seeing their old weapons made him wonder about something.
‘How come we don’t have some crazy ray-gun, or maybe even a fancy light-sabre?’ he asked. ‘I mean, these guys must have some better kit than just our old AKs, surely?’
Mike’s answer surprised him. ‘They don’t have weapons around here, Kenny. They evolved past the need for them a long time ago – it was one of the first things I asked George when I received the briefing on this stuff!’ He shrugged casually. ‘The storm isn’t really a weapon, either – it’s just the way in which they seed those new planets he was on about before, they must have modified it to get rid of us, I guess.’
They continued with splitting the gear into two piles, Mike made sure Ken had the Dragunov sniper rifle. ‘You’re miles better with it than me, anyway,’ he said, staring sincerely at Ken. That look once again made Ken’s stomach feel uneasy.
It was as though Mike was preparing for the end, his own end, and he wanted Ken to help him. ‘Help him with what?’ That was the question, a certain piece of the puzzle, and one he was unable to find at the m
oment. He left the dark question hanging in the back of his mind and went back to sorting out the gear instead.
The act of preparing the equipment released the long held excitement in both men. Preparing for the unknown was exciting, it made their minds race with anticipation as they carefully laid out the equipment, tightened straps, checked and then rechecked weapons. Ken noticed Mike had left his Spear running and asked what they would be doing about fuel. Mike shook his head and asked him to come over to where the vehicle stood with its engine idling. Mike touched the front of the vehicle and the sculpted bonnet slid open, soundlessly disappearing into a gap beneath the windscreen. Ken looked inside the engine bay.
Dead centre, and right on top of the engine, was the small metal box with its glowing glass lid. The same device from the dream, the one George had done his vanishing trick with. Its blue glass lid was gently pulsing in time to the rhythm of the huge engine. This in its own right was really quite a sight to see, the whole unit was like a work of art, beautifully designed and with only one obvious purpose – that of propulsion and of power making.
The engine unit amazed him and he was even more interested when Mike showed him the fuel tank that lay under the floor in the back of the Spear. It consisted of a single, see-through container filled with water.
‘Water…’ Ken was amazed, ‘just water, how in the hell does that work?’ he said, in disbelief. He looked at Mike uncertainly. All the things George had said tumbled back into his head. He already knew the answer to his own question, but needed to hear someone else confirm his thoughts.
Mike said that he wasn’t really sure. He knew it only took water and recycled itself so efficiently that the same tank would last for days, used until every tiny drop of hydrogen had been squeezed out. He also said that all the oxygen was also used in the process. ‘There’s apparently nothing more to it than that!’ he said, smiling as he shrugged his shoulders. ‘We have to find a water supply every now and then, she sucks up more go-go juice and then we’re good to go again. Crazy, isn’t it, eh?’