“And nobody’s trying to stop him?”
Emma figured she sounded naïve and maybe even stupid to her fellow humans, but she hated feeling so helpless.
“A lot of the creatures here believe in him.”
“So if he’s not a nation, how does he afford that… that gateway that pulled us out of the tornado? Or how does he feed his people?”
“Djinni,” Dillon said.
“Ginny? Who’s she?”
Amelia smiled. The Djinni are also known as genies back in our world.”
“Genies? Like with Aladdin?”
She had an insane vision of a group of big blue creatures all speaking in the many voices of Robin Williams.
“I suppose,” Amelia said. “But the Djinn don’t live in bottles. They’re immensely wealthy and tend to mind their own business, but rumor has it they’re bankrolling Falzon.”
Emma tried to wrap her mind around the concept of genies funding a world movement but failed. Finally she shook her head.
“You know what – at this point, I don’t really care about Falzon. If he’s that powerful, I can’t do a thing about it anyway. But I have a very bad feeling about Ryan. I don’t think he’s in the infirmary.”
“Really?” said Amelia. “Where would he be then?”
Emma hesitated, then said, “I know you’ll think I’m crazy, but I can’t shake this feeling that he’s in real trouble and… in jail.”
Dillon pushed his bowl away and leaned in on his elbows. “What kind of ‘feeling’? You mean like a premonition?”
Turning, she looked at him with even more respect than he’d earned earlier. “You know about things like that? Do you believe they can happen?
He grinned. “Well, I’ve never had one myself.”
“But why not?” said Amelia. “There’s certainly a lot stranger stuff going on all around us.”
“You can say that again,” said Emma.
Dillon frowned. “Okay, if you want: ‘There’s certainly a lot stranger stuff going on all around us’.”
She had to laugh. “That’s just an expression!”
Dillon shrugged, looking confused. “If you say so. But tell me… you know – what you saw. Your feeling… your premonition.”
Emma hesitated. She didn’t feel comfortable talking about this kind of stuff. All the years of defending her feelings against Doubting Ryan had made her kind of gun-shy.
“I…I’m not sure what it was, what I saw.”
Dillon leaned closer so that their upper arms were touching, but just barely. His skin felt dry despite the heat and humidity of the dining hall.
“C’mon…tell me what you saw.”
She figured that mentioning Telly could lead to major trouble, so she described Ryan in the dim light of the holding pen with the figure of someone in a bulky suit standing behind him.
“Are you sure about that?” said Amelia. She had been listening quietly, but now she sounded concerned.
Dillon’s expression was flat, unreadable as he seemed to be considering her words.
“What’s wrong?” said Emma, looking from one of them to the other.
Dillon cleared his throat. “The guy in the suit – could you see his face?”
“No, not really. It was just a flash, but I saw this round thing… like a helmet. I don’t have good picture in my mind. Like a glass dome or something but I couldn’t tell who was in it. Does that make any sense?”
Dillon shuddered. “Oh yeah… it does. Too much sense, actually.”
“What do you mean?”
Amelia looked at Dillon. “Usually they’re never seen, except perhaps for a rare UN appearance. But lately…”
Suddenly Emma was scared. “Lately what? What’re you two talking about?”
“You’re describing an ethereal,” said Dillon. “Have you ever seen one before?”
Emma looked at him blankly. “A what? Seen one? What’re you talking about? What’s an ‘ethereal’?”
“One of the beings of this world,” said Amelia. “They… they have no bodies so therefore they can’t speak. They need a suit like the one you described to… to interact with the rest of us.”
Emma tried to blip past the total and complete oddness of what she was hearing, and focus in on something more important.
“Are they dangerous?”
“Good question,” said Dillon. “Nobody’s sure. They commune with the Silent Ones, but don’t have all that much to do with the rest of Nocturnia.”
“So why do both of you look spooked because I saw one with Ryan?”
“Well,” said Amelia. “Lately their appearances have coincided with catastrophes… horrible things happening around the world.”
Dillon looked at her with an expression of profound fear. “Things you can’t imagine.”
28
Rather than instilling any new tension or fear in him, the return to the cell had a dulling effect on Ryan. The empty ethereal suit still stood facing the wall of the adjacent cell, just as Telly had left it.
Alone again, he sat on a bench and sighed.
Was this what it was going to be like from now on? Tossed from one lock-up to another until Falzon or Simon or whoever else had power over him decided they’d had enough and he was of no use to anyone?
That day might come sooner than later when Falzon found out Telly was human. And if Koertig said he had a “simple” blood test, then Telly was as good as caught. When they tested Telly it would be Game Over. He didn’t want to imagine what Falzon would do to them.
And then what about Emma? She’d be left all alone in this crazy world. At least he wouldn’t have to face her and tell her how badly he’d botched everything. Their only hope, and it was as slim as fishing line, was that Dr. Koertig’s test would somehow miss Telly’s human origin.
The thought of the ugly scientist flashed him back to their whacked-out meeting earlier. Something Ryan had said had shocked the hell out of Koertig. He’d dropped his cup right after Ryan’s mention of Dr. Polonius’s stutter. What was so shocking about a stutter? Millions of people stuttered.
But no question about Koertig’s interest in Ryan. He’d pretty much saved his life after he’d stupidly corrected Falzon. The big question was why?
Yeah…saved his life. Everything was such a mess right now, maybe he’d be better off dead.
Ryan realized that wasn’t like him. The idea of giving up, on anything, had always seemed… foreign to him.
The only person who can really beat you is yourself.
He’d heard or read that somewhere and it had always stayed with him. But that mantra wasn’t going to help him now.
Maybe he’d feel different if all this wasn’t his fault.
He punched his thigh in anger. The pain felt deserved. So stupid! If he could just–
He heard a scraping noise from the adjacent cell. He shot to his feet as he realized the ethereal’s squat diving suit was moving – slowly turning toward him.
But it was empty!
Or so he’d thought.
He found its clumsy movements unsettling. Despite the emptiness of the glass dome atop its shoulders, Ryan couldn’t escape the feeling that something was looking at him, in some way appraising him.
As he forced himself to stare back, he realized he was waiting for something, although he couldn’t say exactly what that something might be…
Almost imperceptibly at first, a pale lime-green glow began to gather in the clear dome. As it coalesced into a roiling, phosphorescent fog, a voice echoed around him.
“You are…different,” the ethereal said in its robo-voicemail voice through the speaker on its chest.
Although caught off guard, Ryan swallowed hard, then answered the creature. “If you mean because I’m from Earth – I mean Humania… well, yeah, I guess I am.”
“No. We have others from Humania here. You are… special.”
The last word triggered a conflux of reactions. Fear. Suspicion. Puzzlement.
; Trying to conquer the feelings, Ryan attempted sarcasm. “That’s what my sister always said – a special pain in the butt.”
But the humor appeared lost on the ethereal, which made no reply as it continued to face him.
Ryan pushed. “Sorry, I guess I should have asked you what you meant by that. How am I special?”
“Not certain. You have an aura. Not fully formed yet.”
Okay…as was the norm around here, weirdness started to get even weirder. He decided to try a different approach.
“How did you end up here?”
“Taken from the Nosferatan incursion.”
“What for?”
“The Lir wishes information of us.”
“About what?”
“Silent Ones.”
Just the mention of those murderous entities gave Ryan a start. But he pushed on. “Did you tell him?”
“Nothing to tell.”
“Why not?”
“We are bound to them – we are part of them in ways not understood by corporeals like you.”
“What’s that mean?”
“We can never reveal what should never be revealed.”
Ryan considered the riddle-like quality of the thing’s response. What the heck was it talking about?
“I have a feeling Falzon wasn’t too happy to hear that.”
“Execution is imminent.”
The possibility that this strange being with no body could be killed had never occurred to Ryan.
“How can they do that?”
“By freezing us into a crystalline powder, and then melting us into a shapeless glob.”
“That sounds awful.”
“We would not know. We have never communicated with our kind who have experienced it.”
“Well, no, I guess you haven’t. Why do you keep saying ‘we’ and ‘us’?”
“Because there is only we and us.”
“Thanks for clearing that up.”
“Will you help?”
“Me?” he said, shocked that this thing thought he could do something about anything. “I’m locked up myself.”
“That is neither a yes nor a no.”
You remind me of me, Ryan thought. That could be trouble.
“Of course I will.” Anything to distract Falzon. “Just tell me what I can do.”
“We require an alternate container in which to hide.”
”Can’t you just float away?”
“If we were outside, yes, but we are underground and they sealed the exit when they left us here. We must employ subterfuge and misdirection.”
Ryan understood misdirection – the key to most of his card tricks.
“Alternate container…like what?”
When the ethereal made no reply, Ryan looked around the cell for a place an ethereal might hide. Nothing. The cell was bare except for a crude cot. Not even a hole in the floor this time. He looked down at himself and saw his shoes. The notion seemed absurd, but Ryan couldn’t think of any other options. He removed one of his waterproof Timberland hiking boots and held it up.
“Will this do?”
“First we need help to escape the interface.”
“Interface?”
“That which contains us.”
“Oh, you mean the suit.”
“Yes, it allows us to communicate with corporeals.”
Something wasn’t right. Ryan had the distinct feeling that the ethereal wasn’t telling him everything.
“Wait. If you can’t get out, how did you get in?”
“The interface is attuned to our thoughts. We will it to walk, we will it to talk, and we will the dome to open and close. However, our captors have pinned the hinge, preventing it from operating.”
Moving close to the bars separating their cells, the ethereal leaned forward so the suit’s collar and dome were within Ryan’s reach.
“Remove the pin and we shall be free.”
Ryan inspected the double flange where the clear dome was attached to the suit’s collar. A metal pin had been jammed into the hinge, locking it. The crude containment suit – or interface – did not include fully functional hands and fingers. Its stubby arms ended in what looked like boxing gloves.
No question – this ethereal wasn’t going anywhere without help.
A clang echoed down the hall from the outer gate.
“They are coming.” The mechanical voice showed no emotion, but the tempo of its words picked up. “Release us. Then re-seal it.”
Ryan hesitated. Why this nagging feeling that the ethereal wasn’t explaining things with enough detail?
“You aren’t telling me something.”
A pause, then, “You are indeed special. But no time now. Quickly. Release us and replace the pin as soon as we are free.”
“Okay, okay.”
Pushing his misgivings aside, he grabbed the pin and twisted it free. The airtight seal broke with a pop! and the dome snapped back. Immediately the glowing green mist billowed from the suit. Ryan reached through the bars, shut the dome, and jammed the pin back into place.
As soon as he finished, the mist began to move, but instead of flowing toward the boot, it enveloped Ryan’s head.
“What–?” he gasped.
And as he took a breath, the mist flowed into his mouth and nose and disappeared. He tasted salt and had a brief choking-drowning sensation as he staggered back from the bars. His vision swam while a soft, feminine voice echoed in his mind.
This is the best way.
“No!”
We can hide best within you. Please? We will do you no harm but we need your permission. They are almost here. Say yes or we will die.
Terrified though he was, Ryan couldn’t let that happen. And it did say please.
“Yes.”
Greetings, Ryan O’Dell from Humania.
Feeling weak, moving as if the air had turned to Jell-O, he staggered back and dropped onto the cot. His hands seem to have a life of their own as he pulled his boot back on. His vision wavered. He looked at the suit standing in the neighboring cell, semi-rigid, and somehow looking even more bizarre and unsettling now than when it was occupied.
“Hey…wait,” he said in a slow thick voice as something occurred to him. “You… know… my name?”
Hush. Enemies approach.
A few seconds later, two Ubers in their yellow jumpsuits entered the cell block pushing an odd piece of machinery on a wheeled dolly. Ryan sat still, trying to appear as despondent and disinterested as possible, but keeping an eye on the pair. That proved difficult because he kept having flashes of other places, misty realms where huge, indistinct shapes lumbered back and forth, and snow swirled around a huge building with strange angles that didn’t seem to meet in the right places.
Okay, so what’s that all about?
Whatever it was, he didn’t like it.
“You talking to yourself?” said one of the Ubers. “Or to the gas bag here?”
You need not answer them, but you may speak to us with your mind.
Ryan tried it. You mean, like, mental telepathy?
Is there another kind of telepathy?
Well, no, he replied, feeling a little embarrassed by the barbed remark – one he might have made. Yeah, this ethereal was definitely like him. Duh.
What is “Duh”?
Nothing…it’s not important.
You are injured. Your dorsal skin has been lacerated.
Dorsal skin?
You mean my back? Yeah. I got whipped.
You corporeals are unnecessarily cruel.
Some of us, yeah.
With no response from Ryan, the Ubers turned to their task. They unlocked the ethereal’s cell and wheeled the dolly up next to the suit. Ryan furtively gave the machine the once-over. A squat rectangle of pig-iron, with a hand-crank on one end and a thick hose on the other. In the center of the block, screwed into a fitting, was something that looked like an army canteen. The business-end of the hose ended in a needle-like nozzle.
Our doom, were it not for your generosity.
One of the Ubers started turning the hand crank, slowly at first, then with increasing speed. Ryan could hear the hiss of air as it was sucked through the hose. Aiming the needle-nosed nozzle, the other Uber punched a tiny hole through the tough, rubbery hide of the suit.
It’s a hand-cranked vacuum pump.
Correct.
Don’t you have electricity here?
Yes. We see from your thoughts – we can see them while within you – that electricity is very plentiful in your home world. It moves more slowly in Nocturnia. The corporeals have generators powered by steam. And batteries – the pluribans construct those interface suits for us and power them with batteries – but they are expensive. Muscle power is cheap here.
As Ryan watched, the shape of the suit collapsed a bit from the lack of atmosphere within. The first Uber stopped cranking and slammed home a stopper-valve on the metal flask, then unscrewed it from the pump.
They believe they have trapped us. They will put that flask in a deep freeze for a few days. When they open it, they will find no powder and realize their mistake. But by then we shall be long gone.
The second Uber yanked the hose free of the punctured suit. They then lifted the suit and draped it over the contraption. Without so much as a glance at Ryan they wheeled everything out of the cell block. The clang of the outer gate rang down the corridor as it closed.
“What now?” Ryan said aloud.
For us, we depart. For you…we do not know. You are different… special. You are more than you seem.
“I think you’d better explain that.”
We can read your mind, but that means we can know only what you know, and you do not know the answer to that question. But we sense a secret deep within you, a secret of which even you are unaware.
“That’s a big help.”
We do not wish to perplex or disturb one to whom we owe our continuing existence. Now, we would leave this place.
Ryan wasn’t about to argue with that, but…
“How come you didn’t leave before?”
We told you: The exit was sealed. They now think we are trapped in their flask, so they did not reseal when they left.
Definitely Not Kansas (Nocturnia Book 1) Page 16