by Lorijo Metz
“There’s nothing more civilized than a good strong cup of English tea,” said Wells.
“English?” said Hayes, still wondering just how English Wells really was. Was he human English or Alien English?
“Well, as close as I can find. Mallos, fix the boy his cup of tea and be off. No wait—fix his tea, then fetch some of that salve you Tsendi think so highly of. The boy’s wrists are raw and his face is difficult for me to look at.”
Mallos grunted something that sounded like, “Yes, oh Great One,” fixed the tea and backed quickly out of the room keeping one angry bulbous eye locked on Hayes, who was quietly regretting his decision to seek revenge.
Hayes drank his tea in silence while Wells busied himself in front of the mirror again. The man was mean, crazy and unabashedly vain!
A few minutes later, Mallos returned with the salve, then left with instructions to get his Olt-tsoot team together. Hayes hoped this meant he wouldn’t be returning anytime soon.
“As you can see,” said Wells, tearing himself away from his image, “proper servants are difficult to come by. These Tsendi are, at best, primitive.”
“Not ‘your kind,’” said Hayes.
“Exactly! Not our kind, not our kind at all. Which is why I have a proposition for you.” Then Wells surprised Hayes by looking him straight in the eyes. “One, I believe you’ll agree, will benefit both of us.”
There was something oddly familiar about Wells’ stare. It was only after he looked away that he realized it; Wells’ eyes were the same color as McKenzie’s. “What about McKenzie?”
“Ah yes. As I stated, it’s clear to me that back on Earth you were grossly underestimated.”
“Why would you think that?” His assumption annoyed Hayes. Back on Earth, he thought, most kids looked up to him.
“Calm yourself, Master Hayes. I meant nothing by it. Let me state this plainly, I’m going to offer you the opportunity of a lifetime. Ah, but not just one lifetime—many, many lifetimes.”
Good. Bigot or not, Wells wanted something from him; which meant, for the moment, Hayes was in the driver’s seat.
“As you’re aware, I have been on this planet for well over one hundred years. And if all things stay the same, I should have a good two hundred years left in me. What do you say to that?”
“I’d say that’s a long time,” said Hayes. He almost felt sorry for Mallos. Two hundred more years of taking orders from the old turd—what a bummer.
“Two hundred years, ruling as I please,” continued Wells. “There are drawbacks of course. Sacrifices…so many sacrifices. But it’s worth it. On Earth, I’d never have had such opportunity.”
“True,” said Hayes, playing along. Back on Earth, Wells would never have gotten the chance to live in a forest that stinks like yesterday’s puke or be King of the bulbous-eyed Tsendi. And who wouldn’t want that? “But what about the Circanthians?”
“Circanthians!” The very word seemed to irritate Wells. His face turned red, his voice went up a pitch the way adults’ voices do when they believe they have something important to say. “Young man, where in history has there ever been a place for civilizations based on non-aggressive, intellectual, mumbo jumbo magic?”
“Huh?”
“AGGRESSION!” Wells’ hand shot up into the air, as if he were brandishing a sword. “Civilizations thrive on it. Fall without it. Look at Alexander the Great? The Roman Empire. Invade and conquer. Subvert and civilize.”
“Subvert?”
“And civilize! As an American, you should understand. Did the colonists invite the Queen over for tea and crumpets to talk about their freedom?”
“You have a point.”
“I knew you’d see it my way. You’re a clever boy. However, as I said, there have been sacrifices.”
Hayes doubted Wells knew anything about sacrifice. Even on Earth, he’d probably been a privileged English white man. Hayes’ Aunt…on the other hand, knew all about sacrifice. Hayes blinked his eyes and pushed the image of Aunt Patty from his mind.
“The problem is,” continued Wells, “I have no one to talk to. No one my intellectual equal. Abacis was coming along. I saw promise, but…ah well, he is only Tsendi, after all.”
“Doesn’t even know how to play chess,” said Hayes, pretending to have something in his eye.
“Yes! By Jove, you do understand! My, my….” Wells smiled. “Please, don’t shed a tear on my account, though it is terribly thoughtful of you. Right! So you understand why I wish you to stay and share this with me—as my number one, that is.”
“What about McKenzie?”
“Her again! She does seem to be on the other side, doesn’t she?”
“I guess so. But you need her, ah…”
“Gate, right.” Wells began to pace. “It would be nice to take a quick trip home for supplies: tea, for example, hey what? We need a Gate, however…” He stopped in front of Hayes. “How should I put this? Too many cooks spoil the pot, if you know what I mean.”
Hayes did. McKenzie was one too many cooks. “I’m hungry,” he said, for the subject of cooking had sparked something—a plan! Whether it would work or not, was yet to be seen.
“Of course you are, a growing boy like you.”
Hayes lifted his left hand and made it shake a little. Wells took the bait.
“I wish I could have some more of that food I had last night.” Then Hayes took his right hand and grabbed his left arm, as if to make it stop shaking.
Wells smiled—a benevolent, ingratiating smile. He thought Hayes, not being one of ‘his kind’, had become addicted to cobaca fruit. Yet, despite what Wells thought, Hayes was one of his kind…but McKenzie wasn’t. Not totally, anyways. Would the cobaca froot affect her like it did the Circanthians? He needed to warn her.
“I have just the thing.” Wells looked pleased with himself. “Guards!”
Two nervous looking guards rushed in.
“Hand that to me.” Wells pointed to a pouch hanging around the smaller Tsendi’s waist.
The Tsendi looked as if he were going to cry.
“NOW!” shouted Wells.
The Tsendi ripped the pouch from his waist and handed it to Wells, then stepped back and stood, head down, as if he’d been whipped.
Wells handed the pouch to Hayes. “Enjoy. It’s a sweet treat, perfect for a boy your age.”
Hayes took the pouch and with as much fake enthusiasm as he could muster, took one of the dried red pieces of cobaca froot and stuck it in his mouth.
The guards moaned.
Hayes chewed it as many times as he could, without throwing up that is, then swallowed. “Thank you,” he said, affecting the biggest grin he could manage.
“There’s plenty more where that came from!”
Hayes smiled and choked down a few more.
The guards moaned louder and louder. Wells didn’t stop them, either taking pleasure in the Tsendi’s suffering, or realizing it was beyond even his power to stop the moaning.
“I’m tired,” said Hayes, extending the word into a wide yawn to cover the fact that his stomach had begun to lurch. “That prison bed wasn’t exactly comfortable.”
Wells hesitated, but not for long. “Rest here, I have some business to attend to.” He turned to go, then paused. “Do you play chess?”
“Bishop takes Queen. Checkmate!” Of course Hayes knew how to play chess. He had six games going on his iPhone and was winning all of them.
Wells’ face lit up. “Think of it, Master Hayes: The King’s right-hand-man! Never on Earth would you have such an opportunity.”
Hayes yawned. “I’ll sleep on it.”
“Then we’ve come to an agreement?”
Hayes nodded and yawned again, wider this time. He wished Wells would go.
“Good.” Wells turned to leave then, much to Hayes’ frustration, paused again. Back to Hayes, the door half open, running a hand through his hair as if trying to stimulate his memory, he said, “This girl…she is a good friend of
yours?”
“McKenzie? I guess you could say she’s a friend.” Hayes smiled, calling McKenzie his friend felt good. No, it felt wonderful—then he caught himself. “A girl who’s always bossing me around and telling me what to do.” Of course, that was also somewhat true.
“Well, we’ll have none of that here—except from me, hey, hey! But all the Tsendi shall be at your service.”
Hayes tried to imagine Mallos taking orders from him. “Gotta sleep,” he said, lying down.
“I’ll leave two guards to watch over you.” Wells left, allowing the door to swing shut behind him.
Hayes lay on his back, pouch in hand, staring at the swinging door. The Tsendi guards stood like stone sentinels on either side. When the swinging stopped, he saw the smaller Tsendi glance over and then quickly look away.
“Look,” said Hayes. “I can’t sleep with you two in here. How about you wait outside.”
Neither Tsendi moved.
Hayes yawned and turned on his side. He tossed around a bit more and then sat up again. “Okay, how about I give you this back?” He held out the pouch. “If you promise to wait outside.”
The smaller Tsendi stepped forward, stepped back, and began to shake.
“You heard the Advitor, I’m his new number one. That means you gotta listen to me.”
The Tsendi looked at each other. Finally, the larger one shrugged his big hairy shoulders and the smaller one ran forward, grabbed the pouch from Hayes’ outstretched hand and left. The larger one looked at Hayes, growled and walked out behind him.
Hayes waited at least a full minute after the door had stopped swinging, then jumped out of bed. He didn’t know how much time he’d have, but he knew exactly where to look. McKenzie had told him. Despite some curiosity, he didn’t waste time studying the objects on top, but quickly placed them on the bed, retaining what appeared to be a long, thick, sharp needle to pry open the bottom.
BINGO!
Sure enough, there was a package. Hayes felt certain it was what they were looking for. It had to be. He didn’t dare take time to examine it—not with two Tsendi guards stationed outside and Wells liable to return at any moment. He placed the package in the left lower zipper pocket of his pants, put the bottom back in the box, the contents in as orderly as he could—as orderly as he could remember, should Wells check inside—and laid down again.
Hayes lay there, eyes wide, staring, waiting and, most of all, prepared—for there was one other item he had decided to keep. Tucked under his leg, its sharp tip pointed towards the door with his hand ready to grab it should Mallos be the first to return.
Chapter 42
FBI TRANSCRIPT 21203
Agent Wink Krumm and B.R. Provost
Thursday, June 4th
KRUMM: You do cover your tracks better than the average Joe; however, isn’t it interesting, one of our computer geeks discovered that every person on your list had his or her record modified on exactly the same day. Every-single-person.
PROVOST: Who’s to say you didn’t modify those records?
KRUMM: Come now…
PROVOST: I’m doing you a favor by even being here. It’s the last week of school. As Principal, I’m extremely busy, as you can imagine. Furthermore, it seems you have nothing on me.
KRUMM: I take it you’re not going to cooperate? Suppose I order you out of that wheelchair.
PROVOST: Really, ordering an old man—a crippled old man—out of his wheelchair. I’d sue you up, down and sideways. Besides…the truth is, if you could have ordered me out of it, you would have. Am I right? Not even your own peers take your wild, space alien theories seriously.
KRUMM: Suit yourself. It’s only a matter of time. You may have checked out as far as the local school system is concerned, but this is the FBI, Principal Provost—we dig deeper.
PROVOST: Sounds like a slogan.
KRUMM: Not a slogan—a promise. Give me two weeks. I’ll have that court order
***
LOST & FOUND
Thursday, March 19th
Cave in the Cocombaca Forest
Close to the pale-blue pedestal, which had once held the original cortext,
three figures materialized.
“I can see my hands! Look, look, I can see my hands!”
“Great Concentric, what’s that smell? Look, over there!”
“Really Petré, do you have to be so dra—”
“If memory serves me correctly, that appears to be the remains of a tsoot pit.”
James peered over Revolvos’ shoulder. “What’s a zoot pit?” There was something in the corner that looked very much like a lab bench, if rather antiquated. “Is that a zoot pit?”
“It’s tsoot, not zoot,” said Revolvos. “Place the tongue closer to the roof of the mouth. And yes, we’ve arrived. Finally! Apparently, Bewfordios decided to take the scenic route home.”
“Did it ever occur to you, Petré, that there might be a design flaw in your cortext?”
“Now Bew…excuse me, Provost, I believe I requested you address me as Professor Re—”
“OH, it’s Provost now is it?”
“PLEASE!” Now that James’ body was back in one piece, he realized the pounding he’d felt in the particle stream was actually a headache. He’d been lost in space, for God knows how long, listening to the two aliens bicker the entire time. “Can we call a truce?”
“Certainly.” Revolvos smiled in such a way as to guarantee Principal Provost’s annoyance. “But first, if you would be so kind as to explain what the remains of a tsoot pit is doing in my laboratory.”
“Obviously,” said Principal Provost through tightly clenched teeth, “I had nothing to do with it. Lest you forget, I’ve been on Earth for the past six and a half years searching for you. That tsoot pit is barely half a day old.”
James sniffed the air. Something besides the bickering was making him feel ill. “That smell,” he said. “It’s sweet. Too sweet.”
“Tsendi!” cried Revolvos and Provost, for the first time totally in agreement.
James feared by their expressions that he would not like the answer, but he had to ask. “Do the Tsendi have anything to do with my daughter?”
“It appears the Tsendi have found their way into our cave,” said Principal Provost, sounding grave, “and recently too.”
“And that is…?”
“Not good, I’m afraid.”
“I agree,” said Revolvos.
“Agree? With what? Who are the Tsendi? WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER?”
Revolvos frowned. “If the Tsendi have the children, we may be too late.”
James felt ill. The aliens—presumably the bad aliens had his daughter.
“Calm down,” said Revolvos, finally acknowledging him. He grabbed James’ hand, led him to a rock and made him sit down. “I was only speculating.” He patted James on the head. “I’m sorry Bewfordios has upset you.”
“ME?” cried Principal Provost. “You’re the one who announced, ‘We may be too late.’ While, in fact, it is far too early to assume anything.”
Revolvos continued to pat James on the head (which wasn’t helping his headache), “We must start somewhere.”
“Then let’s consider how the Tsendi got in,” said Provost.
“Through the entrance of course.”
Provost smiled triumphantly. “What entrance?”
“Well, obviously they swam in,” said James shifting his head, causing Revolvos’ next pat to miss and land on his shoulder. There was water flowing in through an opening—the only opening as far as James could see. It seemed like the obvious answer.
“Suffice it to say, James, no Tsendi would ever enter through water.”
“And so the only other way is by particle-weaving,” said Provost.
“The Tsendi particle-weave too?”
“No.” Principal Provost and Revolvos exchanged a meaningful look.
“You mean McKenzie did it,” said James. “I’m not an idiot, you know, and I’m defini
tely not blind!”
Principal Provost sighed. “I apologize. Yes. It could have been McKenzie or…for that matter, any Circanthian. I suppose how they got in isn’t as important as why. Moreover, why a tsoot pit? It doesn’t make sense. Unless…”
Revolvos and Provost looked at each other. Once more, worried looks passing between them.
“What? Unless what?” James demanded.
“If the Circanthians were forced to move into this cave, as a last resort against Wells.”
“Quite right,” said Revolvos. “They might have particle-woven a tsoot pit to…occupy their time. But, perhaps they were careless.”
“Not likely, but yes,” said Provost, “if they forgot to close up the entrance and Tsendi spies got in and—”
“Attacked!” cried James.
“Once again, not likely, but yes, a possibility,” said Provost.
“But that doesn’t tell me anything about my daughter.”
“We’re wasting time in pointless speculation. We should be searching for McKenzie and Hayes. If all else fails…” Principal Provost paused as if reluctant to go on. “If-all-else-fails, we must collect the children, rescue any remaining Circanthians—”
“Dear me, poor Pietas!” said Revolvos.
“And return to Earth,” finished Principal Provost. He frowned. “I’m sorry old man. I’m sure Pietas is fine.” He continued, obviously trying to put a good face on it. “We should stay together.”
“No,” said Revolvos. “We should split up.”
“Not a good idea.”
“But practical. No one would ever guess I was here. I can sneak into the Gathering, look for the children and any remaining Circanthians, and then weave us all back to the cave.”
“But what if the Tsendi are—”
“Doubtful,” said Revolvos, brushing aside the suggestion. “The Tsendi haven’t lived out in the open for loonocks. More likely, they have taken captives and are still here in the forest.”
“We’re in a forest?”
“This is a cave, James. A cave in middle of the Cocombaca Forest,” said Revolvos.
“Of course it’s a cave! Once again, I must remind you, I’m not an idiot. I only meant, well…McKenzie will have had a difficult time maneuvering her wheelchair through a forest.”