by PJ Haarsma
“That one was quicker,” Theodore mumbled.
“Quit counting, malf,” Switzer said.
I glanced up and began to make out large cracks where the support columns met the arched, ribbed ceiling. It looked like they were new cracks, too, where the yellow slime had not yet grown.
“We will wait here,” Drapling said, raising his hand.
Everyone filed around Theylor.
“Will we live here now?” Max asked.
“This has yet to be determined,” the Keeper replied.
“I don’t like it here,” Grace said.
“Quiet,” Drapling ordered.
A form shifted in the shadows just beyond Drapling. Then a small bowl-shaped craft emerged from the darkness. At first I thought I was seeing things. The device hovered less than a meter above the ground, floating under its cargo — a glass cylinder with dark metallic trim, filled with a murky yellow fluid. There was someone floating in the liquid.
“Yuck,” Max said, staring wide-eyed as the alien drifted toward us.
The creature’s head poked above the foul liquid, and its long arms reached out the sides of the container straight through the glass that then sealed tight around his arms. The creature’s skin was colorless and wrinkled. Not wrinkled from being old, but wrinkled from being in the water too long. There was a marking on his right temple — some sort of circular symbol, much darker than his ghastly skin. At times, the alien appeared to struggle to keep his head above the liquid, sinking into the container up to his bloodshot eyes. On the top of his bald head, the skin was gathered together and tethered to a cable that connected to the top of the glass enclosure. The whole contraption, alien included, was just taller than Drapling.
I was speechless. Theodore was speechless. Even Switzer was speechless.
“Again, yuck!” was all Max could say.
Drapling said, “Children, this is Odran, the Samiran Caretaker. If all goes as planned, he will act as your temporary Guarantor.”
“How temporary is temporary?” Max said.
“That will be up to you, Johnny Turnbull,” Theylor replied.
“Me? Why me?”
Odran hovered closer, and we all took a step back. “I told the Council this is unnecessary. I can handle the Samiran myself,” he gurgled in a deep voice.
“Your efforts have been fruitless,” Drapling said, and Odran spat against the wall of his tank. Drapling seemed to quiver. I could tell he did not like Odran.
Theylor started to say, “The children —”
“Children? How precious,” Odran interrupted. His sarcasm was obvious.
“Mind your tone, Centillian!” Drapling barked at him. “You will do this!”
Odran’s contraption slid silently back and forth as he examined each one of us.
“Does my appearance frighten you?” he asked us. “Good. I require constant moisture, and this support glider is the most suitable means for me to continue my very important work with the Samirans.”
“Enough with this,” Drapling said. “Can we get on with the test?”
“What test?” I asked.
“There is no way this will work. I know the beast like no other,” Odran said.
“What test? I deserve an answer,” I demanded a little too strongly.
Odran’s support glider moved toward me, quicker than I imagined it could. “You deserve nothing. You are worthless. You will remain quiet and do as you are told,” he snarled. “All of you.”
“Why?” Switzer questioned him. He moved next to me and folded his arms. He was actually backing me up. I looked him in the eye, but he just stared at Odran. All the children moved and stood behind us. I guess they hated being called worthless just as much as I did.
“This is unnecessary,” Theylor said. “The arrangement for your work rule, made prior to arrival, has been interrupted due to Joca Krig Weegin’s misfortune. Despite what Odran has told the Trading Council, he will test the young Softwire because it is vital to the well-being of the Rings of Orbis and the many planets that rely on the crystals harvested from our moons. Since the Harvest of the Crystal of Life falls in this rotation, your assistance will be invaluable,” he finished, turning to me.
“But what does he have to do?” Max said.
“We want to see if young Johnny Turnbull can communicate with the Samirans,” Theylor replied.
“What?” I said.
Charlie nudged me and brought his fingers to his lips. “Shhh.”
“The Samiran language is far too complicated to be translated through the simple codec implanted through our neural port. The codec needed is too large to uplink into anyone’s cortex. We have tried many different techniques, but nothing has worked,” he informed us.
“How does he talk to him?” I said, pointing at Odran.
Odran slowly dipped his entire head into the snotty liquid within his container. He resurfaced, blinking his bloodshot eyes before he answered.
“I don’t,” he replied. “They have accepted the codec, and they understand my language. I have been with the creatures for so long that I’ve found other ways to understand them.”
“Then what do you need me for?” I asked.
“I don’t. You are unnecessary.”
A thunderous boom rattled the building. The Keepers looked over their shoulders into the darkness.
“Despite Odran’s efforts, they have grown restless,” Theylor said.
“And we must know why,” Drapling added, casting an accusing glance toward Odran.
“Isn’t there anyone who can understand the Samirans?” I asked Theylor.
“I am afraid not. Since the Space Jumpers have been banished, there has been no one who can understand the crystal-pullers’ language,” he replied.
“So no one has understood what they’ve had to say for a thousand rotations?”
“Exactly,” he said.
“Why can’t the central computer simply listen to them and print out a translation or something?” Max asked.
“It doesn’t work that way,” Theylor replied. “The central computer requires a living brain to assist with the codec. The language is extremely complicated.”
Odran smiled; it was almost evil. “Why don’t we simply remove his brain and be done with it?” he said, but Theylor did not reply to his remark.
They can’t do that, can they? I wondered.
“How old are they?” Max asked Theylor.
“Samirans have been known to reach the age of three hundred thousand Earth years.”
“Enough! These questions are ridiculous. This will not work, Keeper. He is not a Space Jumper,” Odran spat.
“But he is a softwire,” Theylor’s left head said to Odran. His right turned and spoke to me. “And we were hoping you might be able to communicate with the Samirans and discover what is wrong. You and your friends would live here and help Odran with his simple duties in exchange for your work rule.” Theylor put his hand on my shoulder and pulled me slightly away from the crowd. He bent over a little and continued. “The Harvest of the Crystal of Life is extremely important, Johnny. This is a great opportunity for you to do another wonderful service for Orbis. It comes with great honor, and only you are capable of performing this task. You should take pride in that.”
I was excited by what Theylor was telling me. It made me feel important. Could it be true? I hoped so. This is what I wanted.
“I only need the Softwire,” Odran gurgled, the sludge thick in his throat.
“You take them all. That will be the arrangement,” Drapling said. “Do not argue this.”
Odran hovered back and spat against the glass again. “First we’ll see if he will even be able to do the job,” he said.
“He will,” Charlie assured him.
“We’ll see about that,” Odran replied, and spun the support glider about, slipping back into the shadows.
Theylor motioned us to follow, and the ground trembled once more as if calling us to come deeper into the Samiran�
�s domain. Charlie looked down at me, and smiled, with one thumb up, whatever that meant.
“Don’t be scared,” he said. “This will be good for you.”
“I’m not scared,” I said.
By now my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and I could see that the walls and ceilings were covered with carvings of aliens and strange symbols. Aliens grasping ropes harnessed to stars stood amid swirling circular symbols and smaller carvings of more aliens. I think they were supposed to be working or digging, but they were so high up I really couldn’t tell.
As I followed Theylor deeper into the building, the air thickened and the sweet pungent scent, almost like overripe fruit, grew stronger. When I passed under the last archway, I stepped into a vast open space. Keepers and Trading Council members scampered about shouting orders to construction drones flying over my head. The entire room was bathed in foggy green light. The iridescent glow oozed from an enormous sheet of glass that ran the length of the chamber and curved away farther than I could see. Behind the glass was a wall of water — it was a gigantic water tank, four, maybe five, times as long as Weegin’s entire sorting bay and just as high. Drawn to the huge structure, I walked away from the others and toward the glass until I could brush my fingers over the stones that ran along its base. The blocks were as tall as me and adorned with the same exquisite carvings as the ceiling in the entry. The stone base curved along the glass and met a very wide staircase that climbed to the top of the mammoth reservoir.
“What’s that for?” Max asked, staring at the tank.
“That is the crystal-cooling tank. It is used to solidify some of the elements we harvest from Ki and Ta,” Theylor said.
“The most important harvest being the Crystal of Life, which happens every seventy rotations,” Drapling added.
“The Harvest is extremely important to the well-being of Orbis,” Theylor said. “That is why we brought you here.”
“It is a waste of my time,” Odran scoffed.
Drapling turned to Odran with both heads scowling. “Your time is my time. Your time belongs to Orbis. The Harvest of the Crystal of Life comes only once every seventy rotations. I needn’t remind you that your lack of success with the crystals is the very reason we have chosen such an unorthodox experiment with the Softwire.”
“And I think we should proceed with the experiment,” Theylor urged.
I looked up at the top of the tank and saw that the waterline was far below it. I guessed about a fifth of the water was gone from the tank. Three drones clung to the outer glass, repairing a crack above the waterline. Theylor saw me looking.
“Toll is quite angry,” Theylor said.
“He’s really done some damage,” Charlie said.
“Who?” Theodore asked.
“The freak causing all that damage. Aren’t you paying attention?” Switzer said.
Charlie stopped and turned to Switzer. “That’s enough,” he said, and waited for Switzer’s reply. There was none.
“The Samiran’s name is Toll?” I asked. And that’s when it hit me. I don’t know why it took so long. I looked at the tank and pointed. “He lives in there?”
“Yes, and I have never seen him like this,” Theylor said. “We will have to use the ocean to refill the tank.”
“Ocean?” Max said.
“Orbis 2 has beautiful oceans,” Theylor told her.
Drapling sneered and broke away from Theylor. “Follow me, Softwire,” he ordered.
“The Samiran will be around again,” Odran said. “We’ll meet him on the top. Take the chute at the top of the stairs, and I’ll meet you on the platform. Do it quickly.”
Odran pointed to a light chute at the top of the stairs, and I quickly began my ascent behind Drapling. As I climbed, I tried to peer into the tank, but I could see nothing. At the top I let Drapling go up the chute first. I had used them before at the Center for Impartial Judgment and Fair Dealing. I stepped into the pale purple light beam and was instantly transported to the platform atop the humungous tank. I looked down at my friends, dwarfed by the size of the reservoir. I saw Odran rising up to my left inside his container. He did not use the lift. I turned and looked across the tank. The only thing I had ever seen bigger than the cooling tank was space itself.
“Samirans are incredible beings,” Drapling said as Odran landed on the platform. “Besides being unbelievably strong, they are faithful and determined.”
“I expect humans to share the same qualities,” Odran said. “If you can do what they say.”
I can do it, I said to myself, and looked at Drapling. “Does Toll always bang on the tank?” I asked.
“It started a few rotations ago. Only Toll does it, not the other,” he replied.
“There is another Samiran?”
“Yes. The crystal can never stop. It must be in constant motion until it is cooled. Otherwise it will sink to the bottom of the tank and fuse with the foundation. The crystal will be contaminated and worthless.”
“How long has Toll been doing this?”
Odran turned and looked at me. “Almost two thousand rotations.”
“He’s been dragging crystals around for two thousand years?”
“Toll and the other Samiran,” Drapling reminded me.
“No wonder he’s upset. Switzer has only worked for Weegin for one rotation, and he’s ready to jump the ring.”
I shouldn’t have said that. Odran spun his bucket of sludge toward me and pinned me against the thin railing.
“You wish to escape? To abandon your duty?” he said. “Keeper, you’ve given me a creature who thinks such dishonor?”
“That’s not what I meant. . . .” I said.
“The penalty is death. I will not hesitate to —”
“I know. I know. No one wants to escape. Forget what I said. It was wrong of me.”
“Odran,” Drapling said. “You know the young human’s history. You are aware of his efforts with the central computer.”
Odran fixed his bloodshot eyes on me, searching for some sign of weakness. “That’s what worries me the most,” he mumbled, dunking into the yellow muck. When he surfaced, he was still staring at me, studying me. Sizing me up. He scared me.
“I don’t like you,” he said, his voice thick as if there was still fluid in his mouth. “I don’t care what you’ve done in the past.”
“I’m telling the truth,” I protested.
Odran turned to the Keeper. “If we must do this, then lower him into the tank quickly,” he said. I saw him glance toward the others at the base of the tank. “I have more important things to do than this foolish test.”
Lower me into the tank? The waterline was at least five meters below me. Was he crazy?
Even Drapling looked at him, “I have never heard of that,” he said. “Is this safe? I understand the water can . . .”
“Safe? Since when is the safety of a knudnik so important, especially at such a crucial time as this? You yourself pointed this out.” Odran then turned and looked at me. “Don’t feel special; no one’s safety is of concern to me right now.”
Drapling spoke quietly but sternly. “Life is always the first concern of a Keeper. It is the gift of Source. Your comments are an affront to that symbol you’ve marked on your face.”
Odran dipped into his sludge and came up blinking but not speaking. He stared at the Keeper, his chin still in the slime. Drapling waited.
“The Samirans are hard of hearing. They will never hear the child from this far up,” Odran spoke softly. “But even then I doubt the child will understand.”
“We must try,” Drapling said. “Get what you need to lower the child in.”
Odran showed me a small circular platform that hovered just above where we stood.
“Step onto this. A small energy shield will protect you from any spray. Just try not to fall off.”
I stepped onto the metal platform, and it jostled under my weight. It felt very unsteady, so I knelt down. A greenish-blue energy shield spr
ang up about one meter high around me. I looked at Drapling.
“Do your best,” he whispered.
“For your own sake,” Odran added.
“I will,” I said. “I want this to work, too.” I looked at Odran. “Aren’t you going to signal the Samiran to come?” I asked him.
Odran looked at his metal staff leaning against the railing. “I already have,” he said to me.
The small craft lifted and moved out over the rim of the tank. I was floating above the tank now and high above the floor below. I saw Max and Theodore watching as I disappeared below the tank’s edge.
The smell from the water grew sickly sweet, and I breathed through my mouth to avoid it. My hovercraft came to a stop a little less than a meter above the water. I knelt there waiting, but nothing happened. I looked out across the green water. There was no sign of the Samiran.
“Toll?” I shouted, but nothing. “Hello? Toll!”
If he couldn’t hear me from the platform, how was he going to hear me shouting across the water?
But near the horizon, I saw the water ripple. It was too far away to judge the size of the waves, but they quickly grew closer. If Toll was making those waves, he was moving fast. At first he circled wide, the water cresting much higher than the device I was on. I knew not to touch the water, but that wave was going to drown me.
“Get me out of here!” I shouted up to Drapling, but my craft did not move. “Drapling! Get me out of here. Now!”
I thought I could see something moving in the water. The wave grew closer, and the water thundered against the glass walls of the tank to my right. Now I could see the shape of Toll under the water. To say there was a beast inside the tank seemed to trivialize the creature. What swam toward me was a monster. The enormous alien barreled straight toward me.
“Toll! I am Johnny Turnbull. Please stop!” I shouted over the crashing waves. The water was so high now I could not see the edge of the tank. And then I heard him. My skull felt like it was going to crack as the alien bellowed out, “I am Toll the Samiran. Where is the Softwire?”
And then the wave hit me.
I have never felt so much water in all my life. It was like being weightless in space but far more invading. The water was in my eyes, in my ears, in my mouth. It was everywhere, and I was tumbling through the waves, sinking into the tank.