Terra's Call (TetraSphere Book 1)

by P. T. L. Perrin

  We follow Sequoia along a narrow path to a clearing in front of a small half-hidden cave entrance. I spot the three beings in the clearing. If these are angels, all the pictures are dead wrong.

  In fact, they’re little gray men with huge heads and enormous onyx eyes, and they’re dressed in gray overalls. I doubt these are the Watchers the articles referred to. It’s hard to believe these little guys protect the secret of the artifacts.

  I drop my guard and breathe. They smell of dank mold and cold rock. I scent nothing other than the smell of the caves they live in. Every living thing has its own unique scent signature, but these creatures have none. It’s…disturbing. The middle one takes a step toward us and stops.

  My head begins to buzz and fills with a voice that sounds more mechanical than from a living being.

  Welcome, Star Children.

  The others look as startled as I feel. It must have been broadcast to all of us. Sequoia remains calm. She’s communicated with them before.

  Please sit.

  We sit cross-legged in a semicircle, Sky to my right and Jewel to my left. Sequoia sits next to Storm who leans his back against a rock and stretches out his legs. Maybe there’s still residual pain.

  The spokesman wastes no time. When Creator made Terra, this planet you call Earth, he placed in her body the organs that were necessary for her survival. You refer to them as artifacts. We have cared for the artifact that was placed deep inside this mountain at the creation of the planet.

  Jewel speaks up, “Do you mean you, personally, or generations of your people?”

  The Watcher turns to her but projects his answer to us all. We are offspring of the Allaran race, those who pilot the disc-shaped craft you alone can see. When our time here is complete, they replace us. It has always been so. Our sole purpose is to monitor and protect the artifact.

  I ask, “Will we be able to see it?”

  He turns to me. When the time comes, we will lead you to it. It is ill and unbalanced, but the time is not yet right for you to intervene. You must prepare yourselves for battle.

  “Battle?” asks Storm.

  He looks at Storm and then shifts his gaze to each of us in turn. The Allarans are your allies. Their home planet Allara revolves around the sun Alcyone in the Pleiades star cluster. Their travels between your world and theirs have caused permanent passages that link the two worlds. You call them wormholes. What happens on Terra affects Allara. What happens on Allara affects Terra.

  The Dracans originate from the planet Draconis which revolves around a sun in the constellation Orion. Unlike the Allarans, they have not created permanent passages to Terra, but have developed a star drive that bends space and time. They came to Terra many thousands of years ago in order to mine gold and other elements from Terra’s crust; elements necessary for their star drives. The fate of their planet is not linked to yours in the same way.

  Allara has her own artifacts, but when Terra’s became ill, so did hers. That is how Allaran scientists discovered that the artifacts of the two planets are interconnected. When Terra’s are fixed, Allara’s will heal. This is our hope, because the alternative is unthinkable. This is why the Allarans interfered in your development and altered your DNA to give you enhancements you will need to complete the task.”

  “This isn’t the first time, is it?” Sky asks. “Were the artifacts sick when the Great Flood swamped the earth? What about when Atlantis sank and the great civilizations were destroyed? History is full of global natural disasters. The Ice Age. The dinosaur extinction. Who fixed the artifacts then?”

  The little gray man fixes his eyes on my sister. It is true that Terra has been troubled, Little One.

  She isn’t going to like that. This creature is calling my sister “little”? She’s at least a foot taller than he is. Sure enough, I receive a flash of annoyance from her.

  He continues. Terra has experienced many growing pains in her lifetime, but the artifacts did not cause the changes. They grew as well, much like the organs of a baby developing into an adult human. Growth is not easy, nor without casualties. You humans experience hormonal changes. As you grow, you discard what no longer fits, and take on increasingly complex ideals and tasks. Your emotions change from those of a needy infant to those of a mature adult. It is the same for all living creatures, and your planet Terra is the living host of all her inhabitants.

  The ancient civilizations you refer to were destroyed in a war between the Allarans and the Dracans. Creator allowed neither side to win. He permitted the Allarans to continue their vigil over Terra so long as they stopped interfering with human development. He also allowed the Dracans to inhabit Terra.

  The Dracan starships were demolished during that war. With their means of travel between the two worlds destroyed, they built huge cities below the surface of the earth and sea. We believe their mining activities have resulted in sickening the artifacts by stripping them of their nutrients.

  Terra was created to live until the end of time. This illness is causing her organs to fail, and when they do, both Terra and Allara will die. If you four do not take up this task, two planets and everything and everyone on them will be destroyed.

  No pressure. “How do we accomplish this Herculean task?” I ask. “We have gifts, but we’re not super-beings. How do you expect four otherwise normal teenagers to save not one, but two planets?”

  You will have help, and you will have opposition.

  “By opposition, are you referring to the reptilians, or Dracans, that keep attacking us? The ones that killed my parents?” Storm crosses his arms over his chest and clenches his fists. I see the strain of his effort to control the rage. Sky’s hand gropes for mine. She’s feeling it and can’t help him.

  Yes, and no, young Storm. Not everything is as it seems.

  Storm grunts and Sky squeezes my hand. I know he doesn’t like that answer any more than I do. The Watcher continues.

  Both races are the “sons of God” your Holy Book refers to, who intermarried with the daughters of man. Together, they influenced the growth of the civilizations that were later destroyed.

  “Are the Dracans and Allarans the ones people usually refer to as the Watchers?” Sky asks.

  Yes. Very few humans know about us or the artifacts. Our people refer to us as the Watchers. You refer to the Allarans as Sentinels, Jewel. Are sentinels not also watchers?

  Storm asks, “Are they the fallen angels in the Bible?”

  Some civilizations called them such, and others thought of them as gods because of their advanced technology and the knowledge they shared with humans. Angels are an entirely distinct species created to traverse dimensions and play a role on Terra that is hidden from us.

  Since the war destroyed their interplanetary spacecraft, Dracans have been unable to return to their home planet. They have become adept at disguising themselves, and many dwell unnoticed among humans. We now believe they are in contact with their home world and are determined to steal Terra’s artifacts to buy passage back to their planet.

  Again I ask, “How are we expected to stop them, much less fix the artifacts?”

  You will not be alone.

  At that, the Watchers turn and head back into the cave.

  “Wait!” shouts Storm.

  “Hold on,” I call, but they ignore us and disappear into the entrance. Storm and I run to catch them, but the way is blocked by an invisible wall and we bounce back when we hit it, landing on the ground. I think I’ve bruised my tailbone. Storm rubs his shoulder.

  The others stand and we quietly gather our thoughts as we head to the stomping grounds. Sequoia and Storm take a large picnic basket and insulated jug out of her car and we sit at a picnic table in one of seven shelters around a large central clearing. We dig in to cold fried chicken and slaw while she pours sweet tea from a picnic jug. We eat without speaking.

  “Did you know about this, Sequoia?” Storm’s voice breaks the silence.

  “Some of it,” she answers. I wonder if
anything ruffles her feathers. She’s like a deep lake on a windless day. “When the first sound rose from the earth beneath us and filled the atmosphere eighteen years ago, the Watchers sent a message to the Tribal Council. They told us then about the artifacts and that the day would come when four young people would be called upon to fix them. You were born a year later, but we didn’t know you were the ones until Tom and Salali interpreted the prophecy. They suspected it might involve Storm as his gift developed.

  “Dylan and Coral were drawn here last year, as were Charles and Analiese. The Watchers told us years ago to prepare their homes, so Dan Jones and his construction crew followed blueprints the Watchers gave them and built the homes in time for them to move in when they got here. Much of the technology in the homes is alien.”

  We again grow silent as we eat, each of us reflecting on what we’ve heard. There’s a lot to think about, and it’s obvious we won’t solve the world’s problems today. After lunch, we clear up and head to our cars. Sky murmurs something about taking a drive. Jewel looks dazed when she gets in her car.

  Storm says, “See you at your house after supper,” and hops in the passenger seat of Sequoia’s truck. We’ll have to step up our training if what the Watcher says is true.

  SIXTEEN

  STORM

  It seems the joke is on us. Watchers? Those little gray creatures remind me of pictures of Roswell, New Mexico, where a spaceship supposedly crashed back in 1947. The town is full of replicas of little green men that look very much like the real things we just spoke with. They’re nothing like the accounts of Watchers I found online.

  This whole thing is getting to me, so I do what I’ve always done to relieve stress.

  My dirt bike rolls easily out of the shed. The tank is full and I head up the mountain. Riding rough mountain trails is what I need when I’m restless and barely able to cage the anger.

  I ride up the main road and look for the unmarked dirt path that leads up to my destination. Jewel’s dad works at a private observatory on Clingman’s Dome, and I like the view from there. It’s a good place to think things through.

  When I spot it, a strange urgency to stay on the main road grips me. I wonder if the attack last week has anything to do with my reluctance. I’m about to take the turn anyway when another strong feeling hits like a cold fist in the gut. The dome can wait for another day.

  It feels as if I’m flying on the ground as I bank around sharp curves; and I love it. I feel the contours of the road beneath the tires. The wind feels good on my face and I take deep breaths of woodsy air.

  Wham! A surge of pain smacks me in the chest and I swerve and nearly drop the bike. It happens again! I’m not having a heart attack, am I? The road curves and I spot a splintered guardrail. The closer I get, the more I feel waves of fear and pain and something familiar.

  Sky.

  It’s Sky! I stop, lay the bike down in the gravel on the shoulder and rush to the broken barrier. Fifty feet below I see a flash of red. Sky’s Mini Cooper balances precariously in a tangle of vines and bushes that keeps it from plunging into the river below. A faint moan reaches my ears, and I pull out my cell phone and dial 911 as I scramble and slide down the steep drop. Brambles tear at my clothes and my hands scrape raw on sharp rocks. Adrenaline surges through me, my heart races, and I move faster.

  “Hold on, Sky!” I shout, hoping she’s conscious and can hear me. I hear branches snap beneath the mangled car and immediately reach out with my mind to stabilize it. Telekinesis is like an invisible limb that I use as naturally as my own arms and hands. I feel the objects my mind manipulates the way a juggler feels whatever he’s juggling.

  The car landed on its passenger side and I see Sky slumped over the steering wheel, held up by her seatbelt. Oh, God. I open the driver’s door with my mind, knowing that if I tried using my hands, my weight could send the car over. Carefully, I feel along the belt and release it, but she doesn’t float out. She’s trapped, and I hear breaking branches screech across the metal. I won’t be able to hold it much longer.

  What’s trapping her? My mind feels along the length of her body and finds the crushed portion of the dash pressing on her leg. The bent steering wheel has caught her leg from the other side. If I concentrate, I should be able to lift the steering wheel enough to pull her up and out, but will I be able to keep the car from sliding into the river at the same time? The memory of my ineffective attempts to fight off the alien ship crosses my mind, but I dismiss it immediately. This is Sky. I have to save her.

  I picture a giant imaginary mattress and shove it under the car in place of the flimsy plants breaking beneath it. Then I focus on the steering wheel. Metal groans and plastic cracks and it’s suddenly on the floor by Sky’s feet. I tug at her and she floats up and out toward me. As soon as she’s in my arms, I hear the crackling of breaking branches, the booms of metal crashing onto rocks and a distant splash as her little red car hits the water far below.

  I ease her to a level spot and check her pulse. She’s alive and breathing, but I can’t tell if she’s hurt anywhere. Have I damaged anything by getting her out of the car? Her neck? Her back? When will the ambulance get here?

  Her eyelids flutter just as I hear the siren coming around the bend. When she opens her eyes and fixes me with that brilliant blue gaze, I have the strongest urge to kiss her.

  The ambulance stops and two men in uniform slide down the incline. The taller one carries a medical bag. The shorter, stockier man carries a backboard and plays out a rope that’s been anchored to a winch on the truck. They wear EMS badges and a no-nonsense attitude.

  “Stand back, son,” the tall one says. They lay the board out and expertly strap Sky onto it. The short one ties the rope to handles on one side and signals to the driver. He starts the winch that begins to drag the board up the hill, but it snags in a patch of brambles. Without thinking, I lift the board so that Sky is horizontal and float it to the ambulance. The look on the paramedics’ faces should have given me a clue that I would have a lot of explaining to do, but I’m oblivious to them; I’m too focused on Sky.

  Sheriff Green’s patrol SUV screeches to a halt, and he directs the ambulance driver to take her to the Blue Mountain Medical Center. He has a word with the paramedics and they get in back with Sky and take off. I feel sick and sit down on the gravel by the side of the road, shaking with shock. He plops down next to me. His SUV with its flashing lights blocks us from the view of passing motorists.

  “Dispatch is calling her parents. I’m sorry, Storm,” he says. “This must be really hard on you, especially considering what you went through with your folks.”

  That’s when it hits me. Memories I’d long suppressed flood in and threaten to drown me. I feel the Sheriff’s strong arm across my shoulders and fight to hold back tears. Waves of pain crash into me over and over again. I couldn’t save Mom and Dad. When that thing lifted the car in the air, I opened all the doors and tried to float them out with me but couldn’t release their seatbelts in time. I watched them fall and crash into the ravine. “I couldn’t release their seatbelts,” I say out loud.

  Sheriff Green responds. “You were a child. You did the best you could. You released Sky’s belt today. Think of it this way: you saved Sky.”

  His words motivate me to stand up and head to my bike. The sheriff walks to the back of his SUV, opens the hatch and puts the back seats down.

  “Come on, son. I’ll take you to the med center.” I float my bike into his car and close the door. “Can you tell me what happened back there?”

  “I don’t know, Sheriff Green. I got there after it happened. Sky woke up just before the ambulance arrived. Maybe she can tell us.”

  “I’ll question her as soon as the doctors say it’s alright,” he answers.

  “Sheriff, what if she was attacked the same way my parents were?”

  SEVENTEEN

  Wolf is waiting outside the tall double doors when we pull up. He helps me transfer my bike to the bed of Sequ
oia’s truck. I don’t normally use my ability when people are around, other than the ones who know about it.

  “I’ll talk to the ambulance crew, Wolf. They saw Storm in action. I’ll handle it,” Sheriff Green assures us. He walks into the building and stops to talk to the receptionist. He says something and she responds with a laugh, batting her eyes at him.

  “Dylan, Coral, and Pax beat us here,” Wolf says. “Jewel and her parents are on the way.” We check in with the receptionist who’d been flirting with the sheriff. Her cheeks are still pink and she smiles as she puts our names on a list.

  Sequoia and the Fletchers talk quietly in a corner of the waiting room, where a couch and some chairs are grouped around a coffee table. Pax slumps in one of the uncomfortable chairs in the opposite corner, away from the adults. His body language says complete dejection. I drop into a seat next to him. “Hey, Pax. What’s the word on your sister?”

  “Thanks for saving her life, man.” His face twists and tears threaten to spill. I’m familiar with the effort it takes him to pull himself together.

  “She has some lacerations and they’re taking x-rays now to see if any bones are broken. She’s conscious, thank God, but they’ll do an MRI of her brain in case there’s swelling. I knew something had happened, but I had no idea where she went.”

  It’s obvious that Pax and Sky are close, maybe closer than most siblings. “Do you two have some sort of telepathic bond?” I ask.

  “Not exactly,” Pax says and frowns as if he’s trying to find the right words. “It’s more like a knowing than actual communication. I know what she’s feeling and extrapolate what she’s thinking from whatever is going on at the time. Her empathy allows her to feel everyone’s emotions, but as twins, we sense each other on a deep subconscious level, like the subliminal hum of electricity. It’s so much a part of who we are that I wasn’t aware of it until I lost her for a while today. God, I felt pain and fear spearing through me, and then nothing. It was like I plunged into a void filled with total darkness. I was terrified. How did you find her?”