by Lorijo Metz
As if the sea had seduced him, a vision of proud Tsendi marching into battle grew before him: Tsendi marching over the water, their armor brilliant under Locent san, defying the sea, defying everything. The vision glistened and rippled, a slight disturbance echoing across its surface. Unexpectedly, the ripple widened, the dance becoming more exaggerated, and—
“TREMOS!” He shouted as the ground shifted beneath his feet.
A moment later, a low thundering moan rolled across the ground. Abacis’ first instinct was to flee. Instead, he remained, watching with equal amounts horror and fascination as the water grew ever more agitated and the waves larger.
The Advitor and the other Tsendi were too far away for him to do anything about. The tremos started and had already begun to recede. Tremos were like that now, intense, short and no longer predictable. Circanthos is not happy!
Then, once again, the planet moaned. As Abacis watched, a wave rose up, turned and rolled rapidly toward the shore. He looked down, first alarmed, then curious, as water splashed across his feet. When a second wave threatened to engulf him Abacis closed his eyes, held his breath and willed himself to remain.
Like the sure knowledge of a whip across his back, Abacis braced himself for the shock of seawater splashing across his face—but nothing happened.
Carefully, he opened his eyes. The Lapis Sea spread out before him calm and unending as if the tremos had never occurred.
He blinked and looked down at his feet. They were dry. Releasing his breath, he turned and began walking back along the shoreline, head held a bit higher, daring himself to stay as close to the water’s edge as possible. Right before he reached the other Tsendi, he stopped. His shoulders drooped and the vision of mighty Tsendi warriors was replaced with another, more familiar scene. Tsendi bent, broken and suffering from the heat—waiting for someone to save them.
He looked in the direction of the rocks; the Advitor was unscathed. Regardless of the doubts that churned inside him, H.G. Wells represented a legend come true—a legend that had sustained his people and their hopes for more than a thousand loonocks.
A loner from birth, Abacis had never thought of himself as a leader. So he did not recognize his actions as leader-like when he threw his shoulders back and speaking in the ancient Tsendi tongue said, “Come warriors, the Advitor needs our strength. Take up your shields, your weapons and your armor. Let us guard him, our savior, with honor. We are Tsendi.”
The pitiful beings turned toward Abacis. What weapons? What honor? their eyes seemed to ask. Yet seconds later, Tsendi, who moments before had been bent over and ready to die, rose up and began putting on their armor. Maybe it was the strength of their common belief, their common hope that the coming of the Advitor heralded the coming of a new age filled with meaning and pride. Something the Tsendi had not known for a very long time.
Abacis almost smiled. Or, perhaps they are stronger than I think.
Chapter 24
FBI TRANSCRIPT 21205
Agent Wink Krumm and James Wu
Tuesday, May 19th
KRUMM: When did you first notice your daughter was…different?
J. WU: McKenzie is a typical teenager; defiant, moody—
KRUMM: Whether you cooperate or not, Mr. Wu, we have ways of finding out things. For instance, your late wife’s pregnancies. They were difficult. Especially the first one. The baby tried to reject her mother’s blood as if it were…alien?
J. WU: I said it before and I’ll say it again—you should be a writer, Krumm.
KRUMM: McKenzie was born two months premature. Her skin white. Unnaturally so.
J. WU: She was pale.
KRUMM: The doctors thought she might be albino, yet ruled that out after her skin turned orange, green, blue and…several other colors.
J. WU: They had trouble stabilizing her body temperature.
KRUMM: I see.
J. WU: Good.
KRUMM: You misunderstand. I see that perhaps I need to define ‘different.’ Orange, Wu? Not everyone agreed with the diagnosis.
***
ARE WE THERE YET?
Tuesday, March 17th
Circanthos / Near Aramedios
“Can’t you just particle-weave us over to this place?” asked the young human.
“I’m tooo oooold.” Soliis drew out each word as if even talking about it took effort.
“Well…are we almost there yet?”
“Almost,” said Soliis, thinking that ‘almost’ would be never if the constant chatter didn’t cease.
“How much is almost?”
Concentric help me! “’Almost,’” snapped Soliis, “is almost closer than we were the last time you questioned me concerning ‘almost’ which was ALMOST the same amount of time as the time before that. GOT IT?”
“Oh.” And from the sound of his voice, the young human did.
“Look over there!” The other human had stopped rolling and was pointing towards several large rock formations in the distance.
“Thank Concentric!” Soliis cried.
“The Great Creator, right?”
“Never mind,” said Soliis. “Roll more, talk less and we’ll be there in almost no time at all.”
“WALK. Some of us walk.”
“Soliis, why does Pietas want us to meet H.G. Wells?”
Soliis looked at the Wheeled-one. It was no use; he could not remember either of their names. “Because he is human.”
“You’re sure?”
“Of course, I’m sure. He looks exactly like you.”
“I thought he was the enemy,” said the annoying-one.
“TIME is the enemy,” snapped Soliis. “If we don’t make those rocks soon,” his hand slid towards the almost empty sack tied around his waist, “I…” and regretfully withdrew, “I don’t know what I’ll do.”
The Wheeled-one gave him a curious look. “Why are we meeting by those rocks?”
“Those are not just any rocks. They’re ancient boundary markers. Loonocks ago Tsendi and Circanthian traders met there to exchange wares. Past those rocks are the Boreis Peaks, frightfully cold and full of wild broshbonits. Beyond that the Arelo mines, strictly Tsendi territory. Aramedios is neutral.”
“I thought we were going to see wild broshbonits.” The two humans said this at exactly the same time. Then, for some reason, added, “Jinx—double jinx.”
“Oh, well, yes…” Soliis was exhausted. Circanthian young ones were difficult enough—
He turned, not wanting the humans to see his face. The emptiness had come over him so swiftly it was like the loonocks, only instead of the dead dark moon covering the sans’ light, it was covering his heart. He tried to recall his daughter’s face, but it was lost to him. Even worse, the only image he could recall was of her tiny hand sticking out beneath the rubble of their home. He forgot about the humans. He felt ill and, out of habit, reached for a piece of cobaca froot. Forcing the memory back into the recesses of his mind, he chewed the last of the sweet red delicacy, savoring it until the pain began to disappear. Only then did he remember that they were waiting for his reply.
“Well?” the Wheeled-one demanded, her voice unusually high and her face as red as a dorabaca leaf.
They’d stopped by one of the smaller inlets. This one filled with a host of small creatures taking advantage of the shade and water now that Locent san was overhead. The young male plopped down on a rock. He leaned over and attempted to grab an albolian trogsitter, missed, and fell hands-first into the water.
“How do you know that thing isn’t poisonous?” said the Wheeled-one, scolding him.
The annoying-one pushed himself back onto the rock, shrugged his shoulders and as though it had just occurred to him asked, “What about the broshbonits?”
Soliis’ left hand began to shake; he slid it behind his back. “Say now,” he began, trying to sound calm, “You must have broshbonits on your planet.”
“No.”
There it was again—the two humans speaking as one.
It must be a human custom. “No?” He smiled. Custom or not, ‘no’ was the answer he’d been hoping for. “Then you’re lucky. They’re horrible little creatures that peer at you with sad round eyes, pretending to be soft and innocent while luring you close enough to hurl themselves at you, stabbing you with spines so sharp and long they go in one side of your body and out the other.”
The humans stared at him wide-eyed, mouths open. “But-but-but, then why did you bring us to see them?” said the Wheeled-one.
“There you go,” said Soliis, “exactly my point! I would never take you by wild broshbonits. However, if you were to climb one of the taller of those rocks over there and look very carefully, you just might see some wild broshbonits roaming the Boreis Peaks.”
“I can’t climb rocks.”
Soliis studied the Wheeled-one. She was a most unusual creature; two-legged like the Tsendi, but with the ability to roll like the Circanthians. A creature of dual capacities, including space-time travel, and yet with certain limitations he could not understand. For instance, why couldn’t she roll up a rock?
“Don’t worry, McKenzie.” The annoying one moved beside her—McKenzie, he’d called her McKenzie—and placed his hand on her shoulder. “I don’t want to look at wild broshbonits anymore.”
“Well, of course we are not going to see wild broshbonits, McKenzie and…?”
“Hayes! Can’t any of you guys remember my name?”
“Excuse me.” Soliis took a few turns backwards. “Nor, is Pietas going to meet us.”
The Wheeled-one, McKenzie, looked like she was going to lunge and the boy, Hayes, picked up a rock.
I’m a horrible liar, Soliis thought, pitying himself more with each passing moment. He turned and pretended to look for something in the distance. “You see…Pietas did not want you to meet H.G. Wells.”
“You’re saying Pietas doesn’t even know we’re out here?”
Soliis took a deep breath and decided to look the one called McKenzie right in the eyes. Lying, he’d learned, was more effective when you did it directly. “Many things have happened in Pietas’ absence, which is exactly why I did not bring her along. The truth is she may have had selfish reasons for wanting to keep you away from H.G. Wells. Like many of the Circanthians, Pietas may fear that because you are human, you might choose to join him.”
“Why don’t you worry about that?”
He didn’t like the tone of her voice. The human seemed to know something. If only he knew what. “I simply think it is time we end this conflict between the Tsendi and the Circanthians. I believe you can help.”
She smiled. “I hate to tell you this, but H.G. Wells isn’t human. He’s too old, humans don’t live that long.”
Soliis was taken aback. The girl seemed so certain. “Well, I guess you will have to see for yourself then; but believe me, I have seen this H.G. Wells, he is most definitely human and, compared to me, anything but old.”
Silence.
Good. The girl wasn’t as certain as she pretended. Now it was Soliis’ turn to smile. “I thought as much. Pietas misled you. Don’t think poorly of her, she was simply afraid if you met H.G. Wells, you might not want to help her with her plans to attack the Tsendi.”
“I thought Wells was the reason Circanthians have been disappearing,” said the annoying one. Hayes. His name is Hayes.
Hayes was becoming a stickle in Soliis’ roticolar. “Pietaaaas…” he said, “is very old. She does not appreciate change. However, things change—don’t they?” He tried to look at them knowingly, as if they were all in on one great big secret. “I thought you should judge for yourself, as well as have the opportunity to meet another human, that is all.”
And that’s when the ground began to shake. The annoying one grabbed on to the back of the Wheeled-one’s machine and screamed, “Is this one of those tremors…or tremos?”
“Quiet,” Soliis yelled, closing his eyes. “I must concentrate!” Even if it was useless. The humans may have seen Pietas quiet a tremos and it was best to keep up appearances should things not work out with Wells.
The tremos subsided. He frowned. Tremos were occurring with increasing frequency. Circanthos is not happy. And then he moaned, for the image of his daughter’s tiny hand had once again invaded his mind. Face it, everything is wrong! Ever since my dear, sweet little girl…Soliis’ hand began to shake again. If only I had a bit more cobaca fruit. I’m far too old for this.
He opened his eyes. McKenzie had her eyes closed for some reason, but the annoying one was staring at him—more specifically, at his hand. Soliis’ other hand began to shake. He turned away. “We should go.” The humans, he assumed, would follow.
Chapter 25
FBI TRANSCRIPT 21201
Agent Wink Krumm and McKenzie Wu
Thursday, May 21st
KRUMM: Avondale is an…unusual town. Wouldn’t you agree?
M. WU: (No response)
KRUMM: Let me put it another way. If I were going to…invade another planet, I might infiltrate it first and make it, let us say…favorable for my species.
M. WU: FBI Agents?
KRUMM: Avondale is perfect for Circanthians.
M. WU: The aliens in my crazy uncle’s book?
KRUMM: Do you also suppose that a town hailed as the most “Wheelchair Friendly” town in the world—the entire world, mind you—do you suppose such a town would be perfect for creatures whose modus transporti was, say…a sphere?
M. WU: Modus what?
KRUMM: Circanthians have spheres, spheres are like wheels, and Avondale is wheelchair friendly.
M. WU: Does this conversation seem at all strange to you?
KRUMM: Tell me, who is this Professor R. and why did he leave your family all his companies?
M. WU: Do you mean Professor Joe Roony? I think he’s my dad’s boss or something.
KRUMM: So, now it’s Professor Roony. I’ve searched high and low but can’t seem to find any conclusive information on Professor R., or for that matter Petré Revolvos, Peter Anderson or Joe Roony…if they are indeed the same person; where he was born, his parents—anything at all before the age of thirty. It’s as if he simply appeared, much like you, your father, that boy, and the two aliens. As if he walked right out of the sky!
***
PATIENCE IS A VIRTUE
Tuesday, March 17th
Aramedios
“Surrounded and unarmed, sir.”
“You’re sure? Completely secure?” The Advitor had remained behind because, as he explained, “…to knowingly place myself in harm’s way would be selfish. Without me, who would save the Tsendi?”
“Completely,” replied Abacis, thinking two small humans surrounded by forty-seven Tsendi armed with double-pronged spears freshly fitted with spikes from a recently deceased wild broshbonit, should be secure enough for anyone. In addition, the Circanthian, Soliis, was a Tsendi spy. Surrounded and infiltrated—how much more secure did the Advitor need to be?
“Humans, you know,” Wells leaned forward as though they were having the most intimate of conversations, “are not like us, I mean—you, Abacis. They are not savages. Furthermore, these humans, like myself, are a step above most as they have the ability to travel through time and space. Never, Abacis, underestimate a human’s resourcefulness.”
The thought of more humans telling him what to do and when to do it sent a surge of anxiety coursing through Abacis’ body. In an unconscious move, he tightened his grip and tilted his spear ever so slightly in the direction of the Advitor. “We should kill them now.”
“Good gracious, my boy!” Wells was smiling, but his eyes pierced Abacis like the spikes of a broshbonit. Not a warning, but a threat.
Abacis braced himself.
“Patience. If you want to win the game you must have patience and strategy.”
“The game?”
“War, Abacis. Those two humans are on the opposing side. Pietas will have deceived them into believing that “We” are the enemy. You, Abacis
, the Tsendi, and me…your precious Advitor. WE are the enemy. And WE will not be killing anyone until I take possession of their machine. Their Gate, Abacis. Our Gate.”
The Advitor laughed and Abacis knew the worst was yet to come.
“Is there going to be a problem? Perhaps it is time to replace my number one Tsendi. Hey what? Mallos would make a suitable replacement—not as bright, but certainly more eager to please.”
“My only thought was for the Advitor’s safety.”
“Very well. Then go before us and announce my arrival.”
Abacis bowed and began swiftly backing away.
“Abacis—make clear my position as your savior and Advitor. It is essential these humans know exactly with whom they are dealing.”
********
An hour into their journey, grassy plains gave way to a desert of dirt and sand, pebbly in texture, but lighter and firmer to roll on. The temperature grew warmer and, as it seemed everywhere on Circanthos, the sky remained cloudless, the sans blocking everything else from view.
Bursts of sweet smelling, purple and blue bushes and short palm-type trees with long, orange, banana-shaped fruit dotted the landscape. Soliis grumbled botooto froot was not worth eating and promised that as soon as they reached their destination he would let them taste something called cobaca froot. “After you’ve tasted cobaca froot,” he claimed, “nothing else will do.”
McKenzie’s stomach rumbled; she would have eaten a piece of just about anything right now—only, it was too late. They had just reached the tallest of the towering rock formations; craggy, burnt-red peaks rising like dragon scales out of the sand, when a pack of wild, hairy, albino savages with blistering bloodshot eyes and huge jutting chins came swarming from behind the rocks. McKenzie experienced the type of terror heroines regularly encounter in grade B horror movies—terror that paralyzes, while all the while the audience is screaming, “Get out, get out!” Cursing and screaming in the foulest of languages and brandishing blood red, double pronged spears, the Tsendi quickly surrounded them.