by Adam Carter
“Sand worm,” Mr Karruck said with a shrug as he went to fetch his tools. “No big deal, they live out this way.”
“That was a mighty big sand worm if that’s what it was,” Kiel said nervously. It took a lot to make Kiel nervous, but she had a thing about worms. Especially ones that breathed fire; but since there had never been a record of any worms ever having breathed fire, she was seemingly destined to never meet one.
“You want to see a big worm,” Mr Karruck said as he returned with his tools, “you want to see the one that ate my brother that time. Now that was a real monster.”
Kiel stared at him in horror. “Your brother was eaten by a worm?”
“Oh aye.”
“And you’re still walking across the sand even now?”
Mr Karruck snorted. “You afraid of worms, lass? If I don’t want people to think I’m a wimp, I have to just get on with my job, right?”
“Well I’m sure if they knew just how big the worms are, they might understand.”
“Laugh me outta town. Now come on, I thought you had a ship that needed fixin’.”
Kiel watched him trudge across the sand and turned a horrified expression upon her companions. “I’m not going back out there.”
“Then enjoy your life in this city, Sara,” Darkthorne said, starting off after the mechanic.
Tarne could fully understand why her friend was nervous. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s get us a coffee.”
As with any good petrol station, there was coffee for sale and a place inside to sit, away from the arid temperatures of the outside world. Kiel was so down that Tarne even bought her an apple doughnut, although it did little to lift her spirits. “Come on, cheer up,” Tarne enthused, hoping that some of her own general cheeriness might somehow rub off on her companion. “We’ll be in space before you know it.”
“Yeah? With Vegas just around the corner, you reckon the captain’s just going to ignore it and leave this whole planet?”
“Well, he might stop off for a bit I suppose, but then surely that’s no problem, is it?”
“Depends if he loses all our money.”
“Well, that was hardly his fault the last time. He thought our lives were being put up as stakes, so he really had to play through that game.”
“You do realise he almost folded the hand, right?”
“He what?”
“He was dealt a nine-six unsuited and went to fold. If he cut his losses on that hand, we both would have been sold into slavery.”
“But the point is he didn’t fold, but played and went on to win the hand.”
“Only because Sparky was signalling to him that his opponent was holding a four-high unsuited, so he decided to chance it and play the hand.”
“That ... Just wait until he gets back from the Princess.”
“Let’s kick his teeth in together.”
Tarne looked about her then. “Did you see where Sparky went?”
“No.”
“Oh well, he was probably just eaten by a sand worm or something.” She paused. “Joke?”
“Not funny.”
“Well I ... don’t look now, but who’s that behind you?”
“How can I tell you who it is without turning to look?”
“Well, wait a few seconds, then look.”
“What, right after you’ve been pointing at him for the past few seconds, I’m supposed to take an innocent optical wander of the whole café?”
“No, don’t turn!”
“Oh stop being such a woman.” Kiel looked behind her, then turned back to her doughnut. “It’s Mr Karruck,” she said between mouthfuls.
“Yeah.”
Kiel looked up at her, pausing mid-chew. “There something wrong with that?”
“Well, shouldn’t he be working on the Princess?”
“Maybe he took a break or something.”
“But we’re sitting near the door and I sure didn’t see him come in.” Both women turned very slowly, their eyes falling upon the man at the table across from them. The man sitting there was not Mr Karruck. Instead, this man was perhaps twenty years younger.
“Problem solved,” Kiel said, taking another mouthful, “it’s not him.”
“But it was a moment ago.”
“Don’t be absurd, Heather.”
“But you saw him too.”
“Only because you put the idea in my head.”
“But I didn’t mention him by name.”
“Yes you did.”
“No I didn’t.”
“Well you must have, how else could I have thought he looked like Mr Karruck?”
“He who?”
“The guy sitting at the table back ...” Kiel paused as she turned to look, for there was now a woman sitting at the table instead. “Well that is odd.”
“I mention it was a man now as well?” Tarne asked.
“Must have.”
“Oh please.”
“Well what’s your explanation, then?” Kiel asked. “You think we’ve landed in Chameleon City or something?”
Kiel blinked. Tarne blinked. Kiel blinked again. “Nah,” Kiel said, turning her attention back to her doughnut only to find that she’d eaten it.
“They say Chameleon City is filled with cannibals,” Tarne pressed.
“So maybe they’re related to me, is that it?”
“No, I just meant ... we might not actually be in a repair shop at all. You know the legend of Chameleon City, about how it always resembles whatever travellers most need, and that no one ever returns to tell about it.”
“Which means no one would be able to report that it resembled exactly what they wanted.”
“Apparently, Chameleon City might exist though.”
“Not convincing enough for me to run into a field of sand worms on the off-chance that a) it’s real and b) we just happened to have stumbled upon it.”
“Uh, Sara, don’t look at that table just now, but ...”
Kiel did look, and was on her feet in a moment, for there was no one sitting at the table any longer. Instead, there was a giant bulbous worm-like creature sitting on the floor and staring at them. Its body length was somewhere in the region of ten metres, and it reared up impossibly on hind legs it did not possess. Mandibles solid as an insect’s clacked within its eyeless face as it sensed their presence through, seemingly, movements in the air.
“I think I’m ready to brave that field of sand worms now,” Kiel said. “Run.”
The worm struck just as the two women charged out the door, and they were running across the dunes even as the thing disappeared into the sand. They did not stop, did not pause, although felt the sand shudder beneath their feet and knew that down there the worm was far faster.
“I think I’m starting to agree with you about the worms, Sara,” Tarne shouted as they ran.
“Don’t ... talk ... just ... run.”
The ground shifted once more and Tarne felt herself slipping through the sand as though she had just stepped into the centre of an hourglass. She cried out, although Kiel was either too frightened to hear or didn’t much care, for she did not stop running.
Tarne landed with a harsh bump onto stone ground and released a pain-wracked moan. Several seconds thereafter she realised she had yet to be devoured and dared to open one eye. She saw sand hanging impossibly over her head like a stone ceiling. There was a hole through which she had stumbled, although even now the sand was coming through this hole at only a slight trickle, which meant she would not have the entire desert collapsing upon her head.
“Well blow me,” she muttered as she rose to her feet.
“What a strange offer,” a voice said, “when it’s usually only the ceilings I get to blow.”
Tarne spun about, could see no one, turned a full three hundred and sixty degrees, then gasped in astonishment at a small man of no more than three feet (his height was three feet – he didn’t walk on three feet). He was attached to the ceiling of sand by some kind of powe
rful suction tool set upon his knees, and was busy playing a blowtorch across the hole through which she had come. He was short, round, wore thick black goggles and was altogether far too mole-like for Tarne to consider human. Once he was done with the repair-work, he crawled to the wall with a steady suck-suck sound, then dropped to the ground and promptly shuffled off.
“Wait,” Tarne called after him, “who are you? What did you just do there?”
“I am Arabbuk,” the small man replied, “and I fix things around here. The sand is kept away from this tunnel by a very thin layer of glass. Too thin for you to notice it’s there of course, and that makes it brittle. I have to repair the breaks whenever I’m alerted to them.”
“Who alerts you?”
“Why, the control room of course.”
“Is that Chameleon City up there?”
“There’s a city up there?”
“Yes, my friends and I just docked for repairs.”
“Mass hallucination if you ask me.”
“I knew there was something up with that place.”
“You really shouldn’t have come here at all,” Arabbuk continued as he began to shuffle off again. This time Tarne followed him. “There’s no life up there, you know, no one who would help you even if there was.”
“Where is the closest city?”
“About a mile through these tunnels.”
“What about aboveground?”
“Aboveground?” He snorted. “There are no cities aboveground, missy. They were all destroyed during the great fire.”
“What great fire? I never heard of this.”
“It happened a long time ago, I’m not surprised you’ve never heard about it.”
“How long is a long time?”
“Ooh, about a thousand bleems.”
“And what’s a bleem?”
“Seven yeltzs.”
“And what’s that in days?”
“What’s a day?”
“The time it takes for the planet to orbit the sun once.”
“What’s a sun?”
Tarne sighed. “Let’s try again, do you remember the fire happening?”
“Oh no, it was far too long ago for that.”
“Great, we’re getting somewhere. How many generations ago was it?”
“At least six.”
“So it was a long time ago, then.” She paused. “Unless your people don’t live very long. How long do you usually live for?”
“What? In bleens or yeltzs?”
“I’m going to have to follow you around until you drop down dead, aren’t I?”
“Should be any vark now, lass. That was a joke, by the way.”
“Look, as much as I love getting headaches like this, I’ll be going now if you don’t mind.” She drew her gun from her belt and raised it to the ceiling.
“What’s that ceiling ever done to you?”
“Right now it’s preventing me from getting out of these crazy tunnels.”
“The desert won’t thank you for it, you know. It’ll just vomit all over you until you’re dead.”
“Good point,” Tarne said, putting away her gun. “Look, so far as I know, Bastelle has been the centre of commerce for the galaxy for a long time. If there was such an all-encompassing fire, I’m sure I’d’ve heard about it.”
“Most definitely. What’s Bastelle?”
“The planet we’re on.”
“What’s a planet?”
“A body that orbits a ... no, you don’t know what a star is.” She was desperately trying not to become frustrated, although it was not working all too well. “Have you been to the surface lately?”
“What’s a surface?”
“Ah, I’ve got you. You mentioned the surface before I did, so you must know what one is, which means you can’t go on pretending that these tunnels are the be-all and end-all of your universe any more.”
Arabbuk stopped walking, considered that, then smiled. “Fair cop, you got me.” He touched a stone on the wall and a door ground open beside it. “Follow this tunnel back to your ship. Oh, and remember: that city is nothing more than a hallucination. Don’t trust it, just go, and quickly.”
“Why? Hallucinations surely can’t harm us.”
“No, but sand worms can. And so can Mr Karruck, considering he’s the one who creates the hallucinations to begin with and makes you think you’re wherever you want most to be.”
“So it is Chameleon City.”
“Of sorts. T.T.F.N.”
Tarne did not watch him shuffle off and instead hastened down the tunnel, wanting very much now to put the entire insane world behind her forever.
As she emerged into the light at the end of the sloping tunnel, Tarne found she was standing now beside the Princess Aurellia. There was no sand. Instead, she stood at the centre of a bustling skyport. She could see Sparky some way off, joking with two college girls he had managed to find, and caught sight of Kiel inspecting some of the repair-work on the vessel, which actually seemed to be finished already.
Tarne saw Darkthorne and approached him quickly. “Jagrad, what happened?”
“Where?”
“Where’s all the sand gone?”
“To the beach?” he guessed.
“And where’s that Mr Karruck got to?”
“Heather, maybe you’ve been in the sun too long. Where have you been anyway? We were looking for you.”
“I was ...” Tarne turned, but the tunnel through which she had come was gone. “You know, I have no idea where I was. Say, Jagrad, you don’t think we might be in Chameleon City, do you?”
“I don’t go in for legends much, Heather. All I know is that the Princess has been restored and we’re raring to go.”
“Coolio,” Tarne said, trying to put her recent adventure down to hallucination on her own part. “We’re leaving Bastelle already?” So long as they were going, she didn’t much care what had happened there.
“Heavens no. I promised Sparky we’d check out the casinos first. You know how he is with the cards.”
“I know he cheats and will one day land us in a great deal of trouble, Jagrad. I think we should get as far from this world as possible.”
“Heather, is there something wrong? It’s just that I know you didn’t want to come here to begin with, but even Sara’s finding she was wrong in thinking that, aren’t you, Sara?”
“I’m never wrong,” Kiel said. “Perhaps this time I was hasty, but I still say we shouldn’t outstay our welcome.”
“I agree,” Tarne said. “We’ve done what we came here to do, so let’s get out of here.”
“Any reason for your desire to flee back to the stars, Heather?”
“Yes.”
Darkthorne paused. “Waiting for more, but it’s not coming is it?”
“Perceptive.”
“Well maybe we’ll be able to pick up a job here,” Darkthorne said. “It’s a busy planet after all, and someone’s bound to have something they need illegally shifting.”
“Then why are we going to Casino City?” Tarne asked. “Why not Merchant City or something?”
“Fish City,” Kiel said. “We could move fish for a change.”
“I’m not having fish in my cargo holds,” Darkthorne objected. “Fish stink, Sara.”
“Fish do not stink,” she said. “Fish only stink if they’re off, and then you might as well dump them anyway.”
“Get fish, sell to cats,” Darkthorne said, his mind changing before her eyes. “I can just hear the coins dropping into my little piggy slot.”
“I really don’t like this plan,” Tarne said, then felt a presence fluttering beside her ear.
“I may not have to breathe,” Dixie the pixie said, exhausted, “but even for me the flight from Naphtha to here is one hell of a trek.”
Tarne closed her eyes. ‘“I give up. I’m going to bed. Wake me when we’ve returned to some semblance of sanity, would you?”
“What’s up with her?” Kiel asked as Tarne
stormed off into the Princess.
Darkthorne laughed, clapping Kiel upon the back. “Women, eh?”
“Yeah, I guess. You do know that I happen to be a woman as well, don’t you?”
“Yeah, but you’re a primitive, Sara. And you’re built like a man, so I don’t count you as a woman.”
“I’d thank you, but I’m more inclined to wring your neck, Captain.”
“You do that, Sara,” Darkthorne said. “But do it after we’ve made our millions at Casino City.” He punched in the security code designed to keep out intruders, speaking the word as he did so. “darkthorne1, all lower case. What?” he asked at Kiel’s horrified expression.
“Nothing,” Kiel said. “Just remind me never to give you anything of mine to look after.”
Darkthorne chose to ignore her. His vessel repaired, he had better places to be than in arguments with members of his crew.
PRESENT CHAPTER
The private investigatory firm called the Darkthorne Legion had a client at last. It was the case of a missing person, a boy by the name of Daryl Edwards. Darkthorne wondered whether such a thing came under their jurisdiction, although had no intention of turning away work, so just told his team that yes, indeed it did. Tracing people was definitely something private investigators did, although he assumed it usually fell more into the line of tracking down long-lost relatives or neighbours who had moved away. Missing persons was more the department of the police, although in this instance Darkthorne was getting paid for it, so he was not about to argue.
Daryl Edwards had last been seen near the docks, so Darkthorne had chosen to begin his search there. He had filled in his team with everything he knew, which was understandably very little – for if he knew any more, the relatives would likely have found him themselves – and they ventured there together. It was a dark and soulless area, filled with old boats with peeling paint. There were rowboats half-sunk into the stony shore and many discarded items were being slowly caressed by the incoming waves. There was no one around, giving the area a melancholy, depressing feel.
“How old is this kid?” Kiel asked as the four of them crouched low behind an old warehouse.
“The mother said he was sixteen,” Darkthorne said. “Never run away from home before, so she’s worried something might have happened to him.”
