Doc Harrison and the Masks of Galleon

by Peter Telep

  Donating a piece of your essence is similar to giving someone your immortal. It requires deep concentration and a recipient who sends you an invitation.

  In this case the collected essences in the healing wreath invite you to join. A piece of your essence detaches itself and becomes part of the wreath, with no side effects to you. The piece is a mirror image of your persona. You can only do this once in your lifetime, so it’s a decision not be taken lightly.

  Some Florans feel compelled to make this donation based on their generosity and faith, while others are skeptical about the healing wreath’s ability to focus its energy down on the planet and literally heal it from all the nuclear devastation.

  My grandmother says there has been some evidence to suggest that the wreath is working, even though skeptics continue to dismiss that evidence and attribute it forces of nature such as heavy winds and storms that have blown much of the fallout into the oceans.

  We’re not concerned with those arguments right now, though. We’re making a temporary connection with our personas and using the wreath as a stepping stone, since we can’t jump from the surface of the planet directly onto the Galleons’ ship. So we jumped from the surface to the wreath, and soon we’ll jump directly onto the ship.

  My grandmother says that our wreath is now the largest in Floran history. Over eight hundred million personas float in orbit around Flora, holding hands to create a halo over the planet’s northern pole. Galleon hovers behind us like some awful demon. I imagine the mask at its core snapping open its eyes and shrieking at us.

  Meanwhile, down below on the planet, deep beneath the Rosengate Sea, my grandmother has used the medical lab to reproduce hundreds of vials of Wrrambien. According to her, we have enough to create a chain reaction in Galleon’s life support system. She’s just taken those vials and sent them through the engine’s portal.

  There’s the signal.

  The vials are onboard the ship—

  But now, as we’re about to jump away from the wreath and onto the ship, we’re confronted by thousands of masks floating in space, their eyes igniting like machines spinning up to full power—

  And then… blue bolts of energy lash out and hammer against us in wave after wave.

  And because we’re connected, and I can hear millions screaming in fear, even though the energy dissipates over us in a flurry of sparks and embers.

  They can’t touch us.

  But wait. I felt pain. A burning sensation in my head.

  And now the entire wreath begins to shudder.

  “They’re learning how to break through our connection,” my grandmother warns us. “Hurry!”

  Like millions of tiny lights winking out randomly during a power failure, the wreath dissolves as we jump away.

  And bam, we arrive inside the ship, having been guided by my grandmother.

  She used the First One’s wreath and A.I. to help make an initial jump. By being connected to her, our wreaths learned where to place ourselves throughout the ship.

  And now it’s time to get busy.

  We work in pairs. Meeka leads us through a corridor filled with tubes. Keane and Steffanie are behind us, heading in the opposite direction.

  Another team, organized by my grandmother, has already found the vials of Wrrambien and delivered packages to sections throughout the ship.

  Now we just need to get into the system, and believe it or not, it was Keane who came up with this plan.

  Think about it. If the ship is constructed out of personas, then the access panels on each tube are actually part of someone’s persona. If we can connect with that persona, offering the promise of freedom, then we can get inside and deliver the Wrrambien, pushing it out into the main system.

  I touch the panel, close my eyes, and reach out with my thoughts, offering an invitation to connect.

  This is literally a blind connection, but my grandmother thinks that it will work.

  A flash of light makes me jolt as the corridor gets swept away, leaving me in the middle of a howling sandstorm.

  And then… abrupt silence.

  I’m seated inside a tent with poles made from orange-colored wood. The main flap is tied open, and beyond lies nothing but golden dunes beneath a calm, twilit sky.

  The old pot-bellied man in the chair opposite me rocks back and forth, chewing on a snowter branch. His cheeks glow like apples, and his eyes look kind. He’s dressed like any other nomad, with goggles seated on his forehead.

  “I grew up here,” he says. “Way out in the Fallows, where they told my father nothing would grow—but he proved them wrong. So I come back here to prove them wrong, these Masks of Galleon. They can take my persona, but they can’t take my mind. Not all of it, anyway.”

  “That’s awesome,” I tell him. “And now we’ll get you back home.”

  “I know. We saw you outside the ship. We sent you a message. Faces you’d recognize.”

  “Then you’re all connected?”

  “That’s how they get us to form the ship.”

  “Then you should be able to block them. If we connect with three or more, the masks can’t take us.”

  He frowns. “Never heard that. All I know is, once they plug us in, we can’t break free, no matter how hard we try.”

  “Well, we’ve got a way to get you out. Can you open your panel and let me inside the tube?”

  His lips twists. “They torture us if we don’t obey.”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t do this without you.”

  He glances up, as if alerted by something. “They know you’re here.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be fast.”

  “And I’ll put up a fight.”

  After a wink, he stops rocking, removes the branch from his lips, and leans forward. He closes his eyes, and his face tightens. He starts to groan…

  And the groaning gets louder until he’s wailing in agony, and I wonder if they’re going to kill him right here.

  “Are you okay?” I holler.

  He slams back into his chair and gasps. “You’re in. Now hurry, boy! Hurry!”

  He breaks the connection.

  I’m back in the corridor. A lid at the top of the tube whines open, folding back on hinges. I project my persona up there, balancing precariously on the clear lip.

  “Which hose feeds into the main line?” I ask him in my head.

  “The green one,” he tells me.

  It’s weird communicating with a persona that looks like a life support tube, but it’s really happening.

  Actually, the old man’s body is somewhere else onboard the ship, and someone else is rescuing him.

  I use the syringe to inject the Wrrambien A into the green hose, knowing that at the same time, other personas like me are doing the same. The Wrrambien takes effect in just a few seconds. I hold my breath, glance down—

  And two things happen at once:

  The person inside the tube begins to wake up.

  That person is Wexx, our stubborn rumm we left behind. I’m sure he has an interesting story of how he and the others got captured.

  At the same time, the tube around him darkens into those pine cone patterns before it drops like a magician’s curtain, only to rise and reform into the old man’s smiling persona. “It worked,” he cries. “My persona’s not trapped anymore!”

  Abruptly, he vanishes—because his wreath’s been switched off. His persona has returned to his body, meaning that part of himself is no longer a prisoner.

  Now stage two of our plan will kick in—

  Because if we don’t get these people out of here in the next few minutes, they’ll all die in the vacuum of space.

  Tubes around me begin to fluctuate. More flower patterns throb with light and shift into arms and legs and faces before they dissolve to the floor.

  Just then, the next wave of personas floods into the corridor, dozens of Florans rushing to the tubes to catch those people waking up and tell them what’s happening.

  In the meantim
e, I jump away from the tube and link up with Meeka, Steffanie, and Keane in another corridor lined with tubes.

  Here, Brave and Mama Grren are opening their eyes. My heart races as they recognize me. It seems like yesterday that Mama Grren helped us escape from the Palladium, and then she and Brave attacked Solomon’s nomads at the observatory back on Earth to help free my father. I can’t believe how much I’ve missed these ferocious monsters.

  “They’re freaking out,” Keane says.

  “They’re just confused,” I add. “We need to calm them down.”

  Meeka and I connect with Brave. Keane and Steffanie link up with Mama Grren. We assure them that we can get them out of here. Help is on the way.

  As the grren breathe easier, Steffanie drifts over to the wall, places her hand on it, and closes her eyes.

  “What’re you doing?”

  “Wait,” she says, and then, “I found Tommy and Grace.”

  “How?” I ask.

  “This is crazy, but the personas creating the room they’re in told me where they are. Come on. Let’s go!”

  The floor rumbles.

  Pressure increases around my neck.

  I glance down at an arm covered in white armor.

  Before I can take another breath and even begin to resist, I’m ripped back into that cathedral-like chamber where I saw the Armadis.

  Keane and the girls stand directly across from me.

  And Keane dies first.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  Solomon yanks his hand from Keane’s chest. Clutched between his fingers is Keane’s wreath. He holds it up for me to see: a pulsating ring of pink flesh and gleaming electricity about the size of his palm. He slams it onto the floor, where it thumps and flashes into nothingness.

  In the next breath, he jumps across the room to Steffanie, who’s terrified as he digs into her chest and rips out her wreath.

  And then he’s on Meeka, snapping her neck. Her eyes roll back as she collapses.

  The killing’s not over.

  He moves on to Tommy and Grace, simultaneously wrenching out their hearts, one in each hand.

  He finishes up with my grandmother, holding her by the neck, her feet dangling. “Is this what you want?”

  He tosses her lifeless body onto the floor.

  “I said, is this what you want? ANSWER ME!”

  I just look at him.

  None of this is real.

  No one’s dead. Not yet anyway.

  The people lying on the floor are personas—masks in white armor playing roles in Solomon’s sick little play. He’s trying to make a point in the most brutal way he knows, and despite these being just personas, they looked exactly like everyone I love until the moment they “died.” I can’t help but gasp, even as the masks morph back into their true selves and float to their feet. Solomon gives an angry wave of dismissal, and they jump away.

  We’re alone. Just me and the psycho.

  I try to jump but can’t. I glance toward the ceiling, where the Armadis rotates above us.

  It’s not Solomon who’s keeping me here. It’s them. And they’re blocking anyone else from entering.

  Now Solomon shows me how he’s sent another group of knights down to Brandalynn. They’re in the lab and holding everyone hostage. They’ve formed a line in front of the engine, and they won’t allow anyone through—

  Which means my grandmother can’t detonate the bomb without killing us all.

  I stare at those knights in their heavy armor…

  And one of them is Blink wearing an arrogant expression like he wants to be there. Like he’s one of them.

  What the hell, Blink? What did you do?

  And then I’m back in the chamber.

  Solomon’s eyes narrow. “On my command, we’ll destroy the engine and I’ll jump down there and kill everyone—including you. Boom!”

  I swallow and try to sound like Tommy: “What’re you waiting for?”

  He snorts and throws up his hands. “What does it take to intimidate kids these days?”

  “A lot more than this, you—”

  “Careful, Doc.”

  “Why should I be? If you’re so powerful, you would’ve killed us already. But you can’t. Because of Julie.”

  “Leave her out of this.”

  “She just wanted to help everyone, and you just took advantage of the fact that she wanted a father more than anything. Too bad all she got was a loser like you.”

  “Oh, how wrong you are, little boy.”

  “I don’t think so. And, oh yeah, I heard you guys have a little rebellion going on. Of course, you wound up on the wrong side. You’re just so pathetic. You don’t even realize that you’ll never be as smart as my father.”

  Solomon balls his hands into fists, his eyes flashing white—

  Just as a wall across from us begins to dissolve with a deep vibration.

  “Having a problem with your ship?” I ask.

  He screams and answers, “Your generation… sarcastic to the end.”

  I smile darkly and glance up at the Armadis. “I got a message for your friends up there. You tell them I’ll never be their slave.”

  “They won’t take no for an answer. And now, perhaps you’d like to say goodbye to Tommy and your mother?”

  He jumps away.

  But I read his trrune, and, yes, I’m allowed to follow.

  I hesitate. Is this a trap? I’m not sure, but I just have to go. I have to find out what’s happened to them.

  With a curse, I jump.

  And now we’re in that place that resembles a hospital room. Grace looks fine. There’s even more color in her face. But Tommy must’ve put up a fight. He has a black eye and bruises on his cheeks.

  He’s standing by Grace’s bed, and they’re glancing around at the walls and the ceiling before they spot us.

  Tommy faces me and rushes forward. “Doc, where y’all been? What the hell’s going on?”

  “We made it to Brandalynn! There’s so much I need tell you, but seriously, are you all right?”

  Tommy’s expression darkens—

  Because Solomon’s already at my shoulder. “We got lucky, Doc. He survived.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  Tommy grinds his teeth and leans into Solomon’s face. “I’m alive. And that’s bad luck for you.”

  Solomon’s eyes turn white as a bolt strikes Tommy in the chest, lifts him into the air, and hurls him across the room and crashing into the back wall. He’s pinned there and being raised off his feet, clutching his chest.

  “Lift your shirt and show him!” Solomon cries.

  Tommy’s eyes are creased in agony, his mouth wide open, but he won’t scream in pain. He’s a Marine.

  The only scream he has is a war cry.

  And he sure as hell doesn’t take orders from Solomon.

  Cursing, Solomon releases him. Tommy slides down the wall and crumples to the floor. I jump there and grab him by the shoulders, pulling him up. “What did he do to you?”

  Tommy lifts his shirt to reveal a jagged pattern of stitches across his chest. The stitches emit a strange, golden glow and appear made from light itself. “They put something in me. I can feel it.”

  I crane my head toward Solomon. “Why couldn’t you leave him alone!”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Solomon asks. “And oh, over here, have a look.” He gestures to Grace, who’s wearing a blue tunic. She lifts it just high enough to expose a similar wound and gleaming stitches.

  “It’s okay, Doc,” she says. “I had nothing to lose. They gave me a wreath. They showed me how they cured my cancer. And now I feel great. I don’t know how to explain it.”

  “So you have a persona?”

  “I don’t know. Do I?”

  “Yes, she does,” Solomon answers. “The lords and ladies wanted you to see this because we’re jumping to Earth. We’re going to create billions of fresh personas, and they’ll all join us here as parts of the ship, as masks, and as members
of the Armadis.”

  “Why are you doing this? Why don’t you fight them like Julie?”

  Solomon leans in close. “Don’t you think I tried? I really did, but the only thing I can do now is take advantage of what I got, and if you want to save them and the rest of your friends, you’ll do the same. Come with me. Right now.”

  More light fills the room as behind us, a half dozen personas arrive. They’ve come to save Tommy and Grace.

  But Solomon lifts his arms and transforms into a ghastly white mask, the floating face humming and crackling and throbbing.

  Lightning reaches out from his eyes like blue tentacles, flashing, dividing, and striking the rescuers—

  Forcing them back toward the door.

  My grandmother was right. They’re breaking down our connection. I can feel it in my wreath, like a muscle that’s sore after a long workout.

  The walls around us begin to crumble as the personas creating them are freed.

  And somewhere outside comes a rush of escaping air.

  Another burst of light nearly blinds me, and when I look up, it’s Julie hovering over the personas, shouting, “Doc? Get them out! Right now!” She nods to me—

  And then her eyes turn white as she swells into a mask and fires a pair of bolts at Solomon, who’s forced to redirect his lightning at her.

  I gasp in horror as the two masks do battle, with a ball of reflected energy swelling between them like a sun about to explode.

  Julie fires another wave, but the bolts turn pale as Solomon shifts closer, releasing another crackling bundle, but then she fights back with a more furious attack, the bolts turning a brighter blue as they spread across Solomon’s mask and cause cracks in its surface.

  I can’t help but lift my arms and shift back—

  Because Julie’s power is horrible and shocking and unreal and I don’t recognize her anymore.

  The girl who carried my backpack after I broke my arm is gone. No more driving lessons or tutoring.

  No more peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that look like they came from magazines because the peanut butter is perfectly spread and the jelly doesn’t leak out.