The Time Ender

by Debra Chapoton

  The last ship to land was larger than the rest.

  “That’s the transport,” Mr. Rimmon said, standing up and winking at me. “Your family’s on that one, Selina.” He opened the door and it was like the Red Sea parting. Alex followed close behind me as I ran for the enormous transport.

  The daily mistings began then. The drops of water felt like ice as they smeared my face and I swear they paralyzed my breathing. My clothes were soaking it all up and amazingly enough it refreshed me and added to the excitement. As I reached the ship—cue the Star Trek music—I realized I’d seen it before … in a vision. I flashed back to a memory of being in my safe little bedroom, Hershey’s kisses’ wrappers everywhere, and realizing I could bend time. I’d had some kind of sensory projection to this very instant. Once again, déjà vu.

  The transport’s door opened and I climbed into the ship, not waiting for an invitation. My mom wrapped her arms around me and breathed heavily into my hair. I could feel hot tears and I knew I was crying too. We both hugged and swayed in rhythm and began to laugh. More arms encompassed me then and someone I hardly recognized hugged us both. I drew my head back to get a look at Buddy. He was as tall as I was. His face had thinned up and he was wearing braces that made the grin on his face more dazzling. He smelled the same, though: dirty hair and boyness.

  “Buddy! You’ve changed so much.”

  “You haven’t,” he said, his speech clear and steady. He’d obviously had that mental growth spurt my dad expected. When I left he’d still acted well below his age, like a five-year-old. Now he looked and acted … hmm, about twelve.

  “Say my name.”

  “Selina. See? No more lisp.”

  “Awesome. I can’t believe it’s been years for you. I feel like I’ve been gone less than a week. I haven’t even had a full meal yet.” That earned a raised eyebrow and a look of disbelief.

  Alex came in then and shook hands with my dad. That’s when I noticed him and a hundred other people, moms mostly and their kids. Cue embarrassed blushing. I dropped my eyes from the stares of all those people, an old habit, then lifted them by force to acknowledge their greeting. I walked into my dad’s arms while Alex greeted Buddy and my mom. I did more than a little time-bending then in order to feel safe and secure. It was a good thing I did because as soon as I released my hold a contingent of Klaqin guards stormed the door and ordered everyone out.

  At least fifty things were wrong with the way the guards acted. For one they all carried arc-guns. I didn’t like how they held them a little too nervously. For another, they were all in lavender uniforms with the front flaps raised up over their noses. What—were we stinky?

  I didn’t see a leader anywhere, but my dad called out a formal greeting and made some hand gestures. One of the guards stepped forward, pulled down his neck flap and repeated the greeting then motioned us to move toward the main doors.

  It took a good while for all of us to file in. More spaceships had landed and men were still jogging over to join in. We were led over grates that blew air up and sucked it back, some kind of fumigation. We went down a hallway and into a round assembly room that was oddly decorated with tree stumps. They weren’t trees, of course, but they looked round and brown and protruded from the floor at two foot intervals. The children among us scampered to the ones in the middle, sat down and promptly began to spin them. I found a seat between Alex and Buddy, my mom sat behind us and my dad stayed at the doorway talking quietly to a couple of the guards. Once everyone found a seat—they weren’t at all comfortable, but spinning was cool—lights illuminated a scene on the wall nearest where we entered. It reminded me of the language cab Renzen had taken me to, only ginormous. A wordless story began to unfold on one screen after another. We all spun in our seats to follow the progress of the lesson. By the third screen it was pretty obvious this was indoctrination and not a history lesson. It was also captivating the younger ones among us. I looked at Buddy; his mouth hung open.

  Alex leaned my way and whispered, “The drum’s tone seems synthetic.”

  What? I hadn’t noticed there was background noise. Naturally Alex would perceive it as music.

  I nodded and whispered back, “You should’ve heard the xanxes sing.” He gave me a tilted what-are-you-talking-about look. Oh, yeah, I never told him about the art ritual, the caged animals, or how I was abducted. The way things were going I’d probably never get a chance to do something as normal as sit and chill with him. I offered my hand for holding and he took it. I got spiky hot jolts on all my nerve endings, not because of his touch, well maybe a little, but more because I knew my mom was behind me undoubtedly assessing my new relationship with Alex.

  A loud voice startled me, and probably everybody else, as a disembodied lecturer spoke in short narrative to match the far right screen. I understood most of it, but mom and Buddy and those who didn’t know Klaqin began to whisper among themselves. So much for the propaganda program, but then the information was repeated in stilted English.

  “All Klaqins, whether born on Klaqin or on Earth, will work together to fight against the Gleezhians. Together we will strengthen our economy, increase our population, and spread our truth.”

  The final screen lit up and as we spun our seats I had to drop Alex’s hand. Now I was on my mother’s left and she nodded and smiled at me in that mother-knows-everything way. I wondered if she thought of me as an adult now though technically I hadn’t celebrated my seventeenth birthday yet.

  The screens all darkened and overhead disks of lights gleamed brightly. “Please stand for First Commander Gzeter.”

  “Holy crap,” Alex hissed at my back as we stood facing the door where we’d entered. “That’s the guy who locked me up after I told him my theory.”

  Huh, I guess there were a few things Alex hadn’t had a chance to tell me either.

  First Commander Gzeter stood inches away from my father who, from the utter awe and respect on his face, looked like he wanted to bow or grovel at his feet. Dad put his hand behind his neck and stuck his elbow out. Gzeter did the same and touched elbow nubs gruffly. Some greeting. Hope it was friendlier than it looked. They held a quick unceremonious chat then, friendly after all, while we all stood like statues. That made me think of Marcum’s time stoppages.

  Buddy got fidgety and touched my arm. I tossed him a smile, comforting I hoped. As tall as he was—and almost a teenager now!—he should be comforting me. I started counting people for something to do. There were so many in the large room that I switched to estimating by twenties and then hundreds. Including the guards there were around eleven hundred bodies in here. I scanned for Grandpa Turlek, but no white hair anywhere. I eyed the guards to see if I recognized any. I got goosebumps when I saw a guy with big ears and green pimply skin. My guard at the art ritual. But it couldn’t be. He was killed. His face blown off.

  Crap, I was time-bending. Naughty me.

  I kept it up anyway. Things were calmer under my control.

  I surveyed the Earth corps again. Most people were my parents’ age. I think I spotted two teen boys who could easily put on a lavender uniform and blend in here with the guards. There were a few kids and maybe two old men from my grandfather’s original crew. Very odd that he wasn’t here. My grandma passed away when I was little and with my family here he’d have no relatives on Earth.

  I spun my seat to face Alex. “Have you seen my grandfather?”

  He shook his head. I swiveled to my mom. “Grandpa Turlek didn’t come?”

  Her eyes flicked to Buddy and back to me. “He made it as far as the space alley. Heart attack, we think.” She looked heavenward and I slowed things to a crawl.

  My grandfather? Dead?

  “So … what happened? Did you … what? Shoot his body out into space?” I imagined a frozen shrouded figure orbiting a star somewhere.

  Mom gave the tiniest of head shakes.

  Oh crap. The tears welled up. I knew what they’d done with him.

  CHAPTER 5

&nbs
p; #GalacticLard

  “BETTER STOP BENDING,” Alex said. “I know you’re upset. Your grandpa was cool. It’s pretty awful what happened to him, but I can pace you through the initial grief, if you want.”

  Right. Good old Alex. I couldn’t count all the times he’d done some pacing for me. He probably didn’t know he was doing it back on Earth, but I realized now what a help he’d been for me. From skinned knees on the grade school playground to taunting jeers in the high school cafeteria. Or on the bus.

  “No thanks. I’ll take this pain in regular minutes.” I started blubbering then.

  And I refused to be embarrassed.

  Of course it did draw everyone’s attention to me, especially when my mom pulled me into a bear hug. The room got still as glass then. My dad came over with First Commander Gzeter and I forced myself to stop the weeping. I wiped my eyes and nose with my sleeve while Alex rose and stared, hard-jawed, at the Commander.

  Gzeter spoke slowly in Klaqin, first to Alex and then to me. “I am sorry, Alex Rimmon, that my protection of you failed. I did not at first believe your conclusions when Coreg brought you to me. I sent you to the lower lounge to keep you separate and safe from the resistance while I verified what you told me. Unfortunately by the time I did the Gleezhian sympathizers had freed you and, I assume, delivered you to a Gleezhian spaceship.” Alex nodded, accepting the Commander’s apology. I wish I knew more of that story. “And you, Selina Langston, should have been under Command protection when you were abducted from the counterfeit art ritual. We lost several people during that raid, but we are most happy that we have you back, safe and unharmed.”

  I stifled a hiccup and mumbled the Klaqin equivalent of yes, sir, yet I was suspicious of this First Commander. My mom still had a hand on my arm and my dad inched closer, but Gzeter had more to say. “I am promoting your fathers,” he looked toward Alex too, “to Second Commanders. And their children to Fourth Commanders. I understand that Marcum trained some females, and named them Special Commanders. They also will be Fourths. We have a lot to do once Marcum and Prince Stetl-glet reach Gleezhe.”

  Sounded like somebody had a plan. I was amazed that Gzeter knew so much about everything. Maybe things would work out. And hey, drum roll please, Alex and I were Fourth Commanders. We outranked Coreg.

  First Commander Gzeter’s next words were a bit more serious. I stood in a sort of stupor, not unusual for me, and listened as he outlined a thirty double-moon plan that required the Earth-born Klaqins, like me and Alex and so many others, to be separated into five groups. The first two would work on boring stuff like food production and ship repair, while the third group, the largest, had weapons assembly and defense measures. My dad was in that one. The fourth group would be split into twenty mini-units to go out into the cities of Klaqin and prepare the citizenry for the worst. The fifth and smallest group, mine, was a bit more specialized. Four scientists, four time-pacers, three strategists, and two time-benders.

  Two?

  I looked around, suddenly drawn out of my stupefaction. My eyes settled on Buddy. Holy cow. Braces, height, clear speech and a super power. I was so psyched that I almost missed what Gzeter said next. My mom and all other one hundred percent Earth humans would be protected—underlying meaning, imprisoned—in Plickkentrad. I figured that was a waste of man power especially since they’d come all the way here exhibiting as much bravery as any full or half-breed Klaqin. I wanted to say something, but the four time-pacers, Alex and his dad out front, put the whole Academy into a frenzy. It was orderly, but fast, super-fast, and there was literally no time for disagreement.

  I had questions. Lots. Like what about Renzen and Makril and Sama? Gzeter had said he’d promote the females, but where were they? I knew there had to be more of them somewhere, at least fifty. But I didn’t say a word in Klaqin or English.

  Before I knew it the five groups were formed and we were outside again. Ships took off and land transports carried others away. It all smelled pretty fishy and was happening too fast to stop.

  So I put the brakes on and I think, by the look on his face, Buddy was helping me.

  Didn’t matter, though. The First Commander shocked me into releasing my bending by whispering in my ear: “Do you value your mother’s life?”

  I gestured to Buddy quickly and he stopped too and we let the frenzy resume. I would have stopped for a reasonable request or polite order. I told myself I was misinterpreting the Commander’s question. It couldn’t possibly be a threat, though his piercing blue eyes said otherwise. But maybe he didn’t know how to speak to females.

  “Hotah,” I said.

  “Thank you,” he nodded. There, I told myself, he was polite. I’d misunderstood to begin with. Something must have been lost in translation.

  “Dad says they want us over there,” Buddy said, tugging at my arm. Eight older adults, two younger ones, and Alex and Buddy moved along with me to the far side of the room where the round stools had begun to sink into the floor. Without them the room was more like an arena. I wondered if this was where Marcum had practiced things like the choke hold he used on Coreg to save me. The place had the feel of a multi-purpose room, like Buddy’s school where he had a cafeteria slash gym with a stage at one end. It smelled a bit like a gym if I discounted that oily galactic lard stink.

  “Hey,” Alex said, “I should take you up to see my room.”

  “What?”

  “When I got here and we left you with the females Coreg brought me here and took me to Marcum’s room. That’s where I got a uniform and these fancy boots, ate a little, and—”

  “Wait. You got a whole room to yourself?”

  “For five minutes, then it was off to bridge battles then the language cabs—where I saw you, remember?—and then we went to a feast which was really a funeral.”

  I glanced at Buddy who was hanging on Alex’s every word as we walked. Well, so was I. If you listed all the stuff we’d done together and separately since arriving here it was a pretty long list. Kind of like Buddy’s list for Santa. Oh, there’s a thought: I missed Christmas, like three times.

  Mr. Rimmon herded us into a circle as we reached the designated spot. Four guards moved to surround us. Great protection. From what? I wondered.

  One of the guards made a deferential acknowledgment of Alex’s dad then led us through an arched doorway and down a set of uneven steps. Klaqin carpenters either had faulty methods of measuring or a sense of humor. It was difficult not to trip up when alternate steps varied from two inches to more than a foot.

  The lead guard told us—in slow Klaqin and gestures—to make ourselves comfortable in a room the size of my family room. The furniture was better than what the girls had in the females’ pod. This stuff could have been in an American museum, some in the prehistoric section and some post-modern. I guess humans anywhere, even Gleezhians, would invent tables and chairs.

  “All right,” Mr. Rimmon began, twisting a thumb ring of his own, “to start we’ll get you all acquainted with one another.”

  This was harder for me than taking a test, but I managed to keep my head up and make eye contact. I didn’t think anyone here was going to start mocking me—these were mostly adults, after all. The three strategists were Duane, Allison and Carla. They were born on Earth, but full-blooded Klaqins, children of two of the survivors of my grandfather’s mission. Of course they knew my dad, and they’d gotten to know Mr. Rimmon in the last three years—Earth years—once he joined their ship building project with Marcum. Their skin had a faint fake-tan glow and though I never would have spotted them on Earth as being alien I could tell now that they had more in common with the round faced natives of this place. I didn’t know what a strategist did unless it was some military planning stuff. The three of them stood straight as poles and when they sat they kept their spines vertical so I assumed they’d been in the service on Earth. Well, they were Special Forces now.

  The scientists, four of them, captured my attention next and my imagination. I’m s
ure I slowed things out of habit as they explained who they were and what they did. One in particular, Jason Wright, wasn’t much older than Alex and me. In fact, Alex asked him if he’d gone to our school. Turned out that he’d been a senior when we were freshmen, but with the almost three Earth years we skipped he’d graduated college with a degree in nano-technology. Jason was tall and thin, but with hair as blue-black as Marcum’s, and he had large eyes and a nose like Ichabod Crane’s. One quarter Klaqin, obviously. If I’d been looking at faces when I was a freshman I’m sure I would’ve remembered him.

  So, Buddy and I were the time-benders and the four pacers were Alex and his dad, plus two third generation guys, Henry and A.J. They were one quarter Klaqin like me and Buddy. Henry was one of the tallest men I’d ever seen, taller than Marcum or Coreg, but lanky and boney with huge hands that dangled like clock pendulums. My head barely reached the level of his chest. I could have pressed my nose into his navel if I’d wanted to, fortunately I did not want to.

  Once introductions were over, all in English I might add and very much private since the guards had no idea what we were saying, we fell into a discussion to determine the advantages and uses of the three types of time manipulation. Between the strategists and the scientists there was a lot of argument. They tossed back and forth their most learned theories and we did experiments too: area specific time-paces or time-bends—Buddy couldn’t keep up yet—where we’d work on something, but leave the guards out of the process. They freaked out when we magically disappeared and reappeared in different seats. They began to hold their weapons at new angles. Cue the close-ups.

  There were no windows to help with determining the real passage of time. Had we gone through one or two mistings? We’d missed lunch and dinner for sure. Hashtag hunger pangs. No sooner had I thought that than one of the guards pressed his ring against a panel in the wall and opened a cabinet full of colored bottles. He passed one out to each of us including the other guards. Mr. Rimmon downed his pretty quickly while Buddy tried to make sense of the label. I noticed Alex sipping his while the others tasted and commented on the contents. As for me I remembered how I’d blacked out on the spaceship when Marcum had handed me something weird to drink. And when I’d been in the girls’ pod I’d had a bottle of something and then fallen asleep. This bottle was different though. It had a picture on the side of a cute baby animal. I’m sure I’d seen a small animal like it when we walked behind Pauro through the animal enclosure at Marcum’s farm.