by Kim Falconer
‘Watch it,’ Shane said when his low whistle and flute clattered to the floor.
The guard picked up the instruments and examined them one at a time. He tossed the whistle back into the pile and pocketed the flute.
‘You’ll not be taking that!’ Shane stood up; the guard immediately knocked him down.
‘What’s the problem?’ the guard asked. ‘You think you’ll ever be playing music again?’ The others laughed. ‘You’ll be lucky if you live out the night.’
Shane collapsed, blood trickling from the side of his mouth.
EARTH & GAELA—TIME: FORWARD
CHAPTER 25
‘You like the protein packets, do you?’ Everett laughed at the animal as it gnawed into the brown squares of amino acid compounds, ignoring the phtyo-fructos balls.
It’d been tricky working out what to feed the little guy, and he still wasn’t sure if he was giving him ‘dog candy’ or the nutrients his body needed for growth. He’d established the animal was young and yet to reach maturation—the scan of his long bones revealing open growth plates—but he couldn’t find any reference to dietary requirements in the public archives. No point drawing attention by searching the historical records for the care and feeding of canis familiaris. Trial and error would have to do.
‘You want more, Canie?’ He patted the dog. ‘Last time I fed you that much, you chucked it all back up, remember?’ Everett grinned as the animal wagged his tail and yipped.
The semiotics were obvious, once you observed the behaviour long enough, though he found it astounding how much of his own words seemed to be interpreted by the creature. Was it tone of voice, body language, or was it something else? Everett stroked the soft fur on top of the dog’s head. There was so much joy there. Want more food? The tail wags. Chase the ball? Yips and barks. Have a rest? Whatever you say. It seemed to Everett that the canine’s brain was hard-wired for happiness—something humans lacked. Why hadn’t that been appreciated before the exterminations?
‘I’m going to have to buy a parkland permit now, and sneak you out of here. You’ll be needing exercise, won’t you?’
Canie yipped again and raced to the door. Everett shook his head and punched in his order, checking credits. He purchased a month’s worth of daily excursions. It wouldn’t be questioned, though he would have to explain to Cryo why he couldn’t find a requisitions order for the revival. Perhaps he could fake his return to the vat. Now that he was getting to know Canie, he’d not be keen to hand him back over to Labs. The little guy wasn’t just a clue to his Jane Doe any more. He was starting to feel familiar, like a companion. It was delightful—a new feeling for Everett—and he didn’t want to let him go. ‘Come on with you now, Canie. Into the backpack. We’re going for a little outing.’
Canie ran in circles, yipping as Everett scooped him up. He allowed himself to be smuggled out in the pack as if he knew stealth was necessary, the reward well worth it.
Grayson sat under the bare tree. The limbs were brittle, like long bony fingers reaching skyward. The air was chilly and left a metallic taste on his tongue. Nothing stirred in this place, nothing but the rise and fall of his chest—and the stranger who appeared on the path below. Grayson hooded his eyes, mindful not to move or attract attention. This was the first person he’d seen in this deadwood-rotten world, and although a thrill welled up in him at spotting another being, he chose caution over expression. The young man seemed agitated, out of place. He wasn’t dressed for a hike in this rock cemetery and he kept looking over his shoulder as he hedged along.
The man took off his backpack, struggling with the weight. Grayson couldn’t see what it contained until he’d straightened, lifting a wiggling animal. It jumped from his arms and hit the ground running. The creature came back the instant he was called to heel. It returned to sit in front of the man, licking his hand, brimming with gratitude. Why not? Even this desolate place had to be better than being stuffed in a backpack.
Grayson smiled, recognising the species, canis familiaris. He’d never encountered one in his years confined at ASSIST, though there were plenty on Gaela and Temple Los Loma. Rosette had introduced him to the hunting hounds of Treeon and the tracking companions on Rahana Iti. He’d taken to them immediately—wonderful animals, though rambunctious. He thought of getting one himself, someday.
When the young man waved his dog on, it shot out into the distance, nose to the ground, coursing through the tussocks of dry grass, rocks and stumpy tree trunks. It seemed to be on more than a frolic; the animal was clearly searching for something. The man appeared concerned, hurrying to keep up with it, still looking over his shoulder and glancing from side to side.
Grayson edged towards the mouth of the crevice. The others hadn’t arrived and he couldn’t imagine what was taking them so long. Drayco and Kreshkali had been next to him when they entered the portal, An’ Lawrence and Scylla right behind. Only the Lupin, Teg, had kept to himself.
When the portal had opened onto this world, he’d thought they were following as he stepped out, anxious to find Rosette. When they didn’t appear, he thought they may have come out ahead, but after a day and a night, it was clear they hadn’t. Waiting was tedious and non-productive, but so would be wandering the infinite twists and turns of the corridors unguided. He was here for a reason, and that had to be Rosette. If she was anywhere on this strange world, he would need help to find her. Maybe the man below was just such a help—and maybe not. Time would tell.
Grayson stiffened as the dog let out a yowl and quickened his pace. Demons! He’s onto me.
The pup had caught his scent, no doubt from his morning’s jaunt to the lake. He was sniffing his way towards him at increasing speed, following an invisible zigzag path up the slope. The man was right on his heels. Grayson backed further into the crevice, dirt crumbling in his hands as he pushed against the walls. He crouched just in front of the portal and exhaled, stilling his energy. He could feel the Entity’s aura warm against his back, a light caress. The temptation to slip into the portal weighed against his desire to explore this world—to find if Rosette had been here or if there was some other reason the Entity had popped him out in this strange place.
He’d stretched his awareness outward, leading with his heart, but he couldn’t sense her anywhere, certainly not in a specific location. Yet he did have the strange feeling, ever since he entered the sewers under Half Moon Bay, that Rosette was close by. It might have simply been his longing for her that pervaded his senses, and not a real presence, like the image of water on the horizon to a desert wanderer. What had she called that? A mirage?
He shook his head. Damn the dog. It was nearly upon him. He had to make a decision fast—stay or go. What would it be?
‘Are you all right there, sir?’
The voice came from above. The man had followed the pup right up to the crevice and was hovering over him, a look of concern on his face. In an instant Grayson realised he’d slipped partway into the portal and had lost awareness. The pup was sniffing over his boots, the animal’s white and grey velvet ears brushing the ground, his black nose huffing. He wiggled and sat square in front of Grayson, tail sweeping the ground, making a smooth arc behind him. Grayson patted his head and stood. ‘I must have dozed off,’ Grayson said, brushing his pants.
The man in front of him was youthful, well framed, with refined hands, kind eyes and a strong jaw. His face was pale, though, his expression tense. ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked.
Grayson gave him a light smile, allowing his energy to soften. ‘I was out for an early morning walk.’
The pup jumped up, yipping. He dashed off for a few feet before running back to Grayson, sitting at his heels and looking up, the yips and yowls getting louder. Grayson frowned. ‘What is it, lad? You trying to tell me something?’
The dog dashed around him in circles, coming back to face him. Grayson calmed him down, saying a few soft words until the little dog settled.
The man leaned forward, his br
ow creased. ‘Is he yours?’ he whispered.
‘This dog?’ Grayson said. ‘I thought he belonged to you.’
The man straightened. He had caught sight of a tattoo on Grayson’s chest, a loop of serpent peeking out from the front of his shirt. He stared at it as if seeing a ghost. ‘Where are you from?’ he asked. He took a step back, patting his leg to attract the dog’s attention. It didn’t respond.
Grayson frowned. The man was out of his element, lost or confused. They might have much in common. He made a choice. ‘My name’s Grayson Nath,’ he said, extending his hand.
The man took it and gripped it, a familiar custom. ‘Everett Kelly,’ he replied. ‘Medical student at the ASMIU.’
‘Branch of ASSIST?’
‘Isn’t everything?’
Grayson nodded, looking around. ‘And what do you call this place?’
Everett shrugged. ‘Parklands South.’
‘Parklands, eh?’ Grayson raised his eyebrows. ‘Some place for a park. And ASMIU, where’s that?’
Everett lifted his chin, glancing from the pup to the portal entrance. ‘Sector Six.’
‘A sector of…?’
‘Allied State One, of course.’
Grayson rubbed the back of his neck. A sudden tightness wrenched him as he considered where he might be. Allied State One was only a concept before he left ASSIST. After the insurrection, it wasn’t anything at all. ‘Mr Kelly, I think we should talk.’
‘You’re not going to report the dog, are you?’
Grayson shook his head. ‘Not if you don’t report me.’
‘Let’s walk.’ Everett led the way down the slope, Grayson and the pup following behind.
Rosette thrilled at the sight of Fynn. There you are, you crazy mutt-hound. What did they do to you, eh? You look like you shrank! She moved her energy forward, and Fynn dashed in circles around Grayson, stirring up dead leaves. Drayco, look here. We’ve found Fynn!
Indeed. The big cat yawned. He hasn’t seemed to have matured much in our absence.
Fynn cocked his ears; his tail stilled for a moment before the frantic wagging resumed.
Can you talk to him, Dray? Calm him down. I’m not sure he’s hearing me.
Fynn hears! Fynn found Maudi. Fynn found Maudi! Let’s go!
Fynn seems to think he found you, Drayco said, mimicking the exuberance of the pup.
Rosette glowed, her new rendition of a smile. You certainly did find me, wiggle-worm puppy. Now sit down before you drive these guys nuts. Quiet. I want to hear what they’re saying.
Fynn settled, though his limbs quivered. Home now, Maudi?
Not yet, little Fynn. We have to find my body first, and get me back in it. Drayco, can you still sense Kreshkali and the others?
Not any more, but Scylla says they’ve found Jarrod. They’ll be along as soon as they bust him out.
Bust him out of what? Is he locked up somewhere? She shimmered—laughter without sound.
I think he might be.
I can’t imagine him letting that happen. Can you tell Scylla we’ll wait here for her, and to please hurry.
It’s done. What’s next?
I’m sticking to Grayson. Looks like he’s making friends with Everett. Just the right person. This is good luck.
I’ll keep watch on the portal.
You won’t need to hunt?
She felt him yawn again.
A long nap is all I need, for now.
How do you think you’ll be able to watch the portal while asleep?
I can do both, Maudi,
Excellent. She blew Drayco a mental kiss and followed the men, hovering over them as they headed down the path. Fynn was more relaxed now and onto the business of exploration, seemingly unconcerned that Rosette was a disembodied spirit.
If only she could be that comfortable with it. The constant state of awareness was a shock, as was the detachment from tactile sensation. Her other perceptions were finely honed, though, and she loved being able to read energy fields and auras so clearly. Grayson was emitting a soft violet and yellow glow and she brushed against him, watching the edges turn pink at her touch. He closed his eyes and gave a little shudder, a smile playing across his face. She basked in it for some time before focusing again on her developing strategy.
Drayco still couldn’t get into this world, though having him in the corridors was very useful. He could keep in contact with the others, at least while Scylla was in the corridors. She suspected Drayco would not have gone over too well anyway—a huge black temple cat, seemingly unaccompanied. There were no animals to be seen in this place, save for Fynn and a small kettle of vultures circling high in the distance. She moved closer to Grayson.
Being with him yet not being able to talk, to touch or to let him know she was there, was making it hard to concentrate. He felt more animated now; the edges of his aura were turning a subtle green, matching an emerald tint of Everett’s. That seemed to happen a lot—people’s auras taking on the hue of those around them, the dominant feeling transmitting somehow to the others. Interesting. She would remember that for future reference.
As twigs snapped under the men’s shoes, her attention returned to the present. She focused on their words. This conversation might offer some crucial hints to her body’s location.
‘Before I answer,’ Everett said, picking up a stick and tossing it off into the distance for Fynn. ‘I’ve got some questions of my own.’
The little dog dashed after the stick, stirring up dirt and gravel as he ran.
‘Fire away,’ Grayson said, his eyes on the path ahead.
‘The body art on your chest…is that permanent?’
Grayson smiled. ‘It is.’
‘And did you put it on yourself?’
‘You could say that.’
Oh, goddess of the woods, Grayson. Don’t start telling him about your genius DNA tattooing. This man’s with ASSIST. Haven’t you worked that out yet!
He doesn’t hear you, Maudi.
Her familiar’s voice sounded drowsy, as if she’d woken him.
I know, but I can talk anyway. Maybe some essence of my thoughts can get through, even if he thinks they’re his own.
I do that all the time.
Rosette stopped. You do?
The only response was the sound of his purr.
We’re going to talk about that later, Drayco. She turned her attention back to the men. They had reached the lake and were skirting its edge. Everett kept calling Fynn away from the water, but the little pup wasn’t responding to the command.
‘Canie! It’s foul. Don’t drink it.’
It looked none too pure to her either. Fynn, little lovely? The water’s bad. Stay out of it.
Water’s wet. Wet is good.
Not this time. Look! Grayson has a stick. Go for it. Hurry. She shimmered as he scurried away from the shore, catching the toss before it hit the ground.
‘Have you put such marks on others?’ Everett asked.
Grayson took the stick from Fynn’s mouth and tossed it again. ‘It seems like that’s all I’ve been doing lately.’
The men fell into silence. Rosette suspected that each was taking the other’s measure.
‘And what are you doing here?’ Everett asked, indicating the smoke-lined horizon.
‘I’m looking for a woman,’ Grayson said. ‘She may have come through your facility—wounded perhaps.’
‘Did she have…’ Everett hesitated, looking at Grayson’s chest.
‘Tattoos? Yes. You’ve seen her?’
Grayson’s aura jumped to orange and Everett’s matched it, though he didn’t respond immediately.
Say YES, you idiot! Rosette hovered over him, wishing she could scream, bombarding him with her thoughts anyway. It was like shooting an arrow at close range, straight through a cloud. The man didn’t so much as twitch. She knew he heard her before when she was first brought into the healing centre. Why couldn’t he hear her now?
He thinks you’re dead, Maudi
. On ice. His mind cannot conceive of communication with you now.
Well, his mind is an ant-sized dust bunny.
Kreshkali couldn’t hear you either.
That’s…different.
Everett had his hands in his pockets, his shoulders hunched. ‘I think I know who you’re looking for,’ he said finally. ‘I can take you to her, if you like.’
‘She’s alive then, unharmed?’
‘Not now, but she will be just as soon as we work out what’s happened to her heart.’
‘Cryo-suspension?’
‘You know about it?’
‘A bit. It’s only experimental.’
Everett eyed him up and down before calling Fynn. He crouched down and opened his backpack. ‘Experimental?’
‘Isn’t it?’ Grayson asked.
‘The technique’s been fully functioning for almost two centuries.’
Finally, some useful information! Drayco, tell Scylla we’re in the future. Jarrod needs to…
Maudi, I can’t. He interrupted her thoughts.
Why not?
She’s out of reach again.
GAELA—TIME: FORWARD
CHAPTER 26
Jarrod watched Selene. She was plucking flowers from her neckline and throwing them towards the centre of the cell. The tiny yellow daffodils with crimson eyes formed a mound of vibrant colour at her feet, bright against the rough stone floor. She ground them with her boot.
Jarrod inhaled the scent released from the crushed petals. It brought a wash of relief, easing tight muscles and edgy nerves. He hoped the scent would act as a soothing balm to everyone. Selene’s temper was heating the room like a furnace, doors wide open.
‘What are you looking at?’ She snapped the words towards Jarrod as he studied her face.
‘This isn’t as bad as it seems,’ he said, his voice even, eyes steady.
‘Really? As bad as what, then, if not as it seems?’ she snarled. ‘Did you realise what that bitch-goddess was up to?’
‘She’s not actually a deity,’ Shane said.
‘How can you tell?’ She turned on him and folded her arms.