Lair of the Sentinels

by Geoff Palmer

  Coral turned to Ludokrus. He was busy assembling the spare parts from his backpack. They snapped and screwed together, making a rickshaw-like stretcher on wheels.

  ‘You think they’ve found Albert then?’

  ‘Hope so,’ he said.

  * * *

  The voice wasn’t Albert’s. It had an odd robotic tone and came from his partly open, barely moving lips. As if, since being crushed, he’d learned ventriloquism. ‘Perimeter defences activated. Please identify yourselves,’ it said.

  Alkemy stared, speechless with horror.

  ‘Please move beyond a three metre perimeter or provide valid identification. Failure to do so will result in unit termination. You have ten seconds. Commencing countdown.’

  Tim stared too. The shock of finding Albert’s crushed remains was bad enough. But finding someone — some thing — still active inside him made it even worse.

  ‘Seven seconds till unit termination. Please vacate the area or provide valid identification.’

  ‘How do we do that?’ Tim said. ‘What do we do?’

  ‘Invalid voice pattern. Five seconds till unit termination. Warning: blast radius three metres.’

  He looked helplessly at Alkemy, who sat stunned, her face a mix of grief, shock and horror. ‘Say something!’ he yelled.

  ‘Commencing termination sequence,’ the voice said.

  A series of low tones started, increasing in pitch and frequency.

  Bip ... bip ... bip ... bee-bip ... bee-bip ... bee-bip ...

  ‘Alkemy!’

  ‘A ... Albert?’ she croaked through her tears. ‘What happen?’

  The tones stopped. Tim closed his eyes and held his breath.

  ‘Voice pattern matched. Perimeter defence deactivated,’ the voice said.

  Albert’s head stirred and he sighed, though how that was possible with a body buried under tons of rock Tim didn’t know. ‘Alkemy?’ he said in his normal voice. ‘You and your brother are unharmed?’

  ‘Y ... yes.’

  ‘Caution, sensors indicate the presence of a second life form,’ the other voice said. ‘Possible coercion.’

  ‘Who is with you?’

  ‘It’s me, Tim,’ Tim said, moving closer.

  ‘And are you both acting of your own accord?’

  ‘Yes,’ they replied, exchanging puzzled looks.

  ‘Voice stress analysis indicates truthful responses. Threat assessment: low.’

  Albert cleared his throat. ‘Sorry about that. Come, sit where I can see you both and tell me your current status.’

  They moved to the side he was facing and sat on the cold rock floor. Tim dimmed his torch and turned it away so it was possible to imagine Albert was simply lying in bed beneath a pile of blankets.

  ‘We ... we are OK.’ Alkemy wiped her eyes, but her voice was still shaky. ‘Everyone is fine.’

  ‘We got a signal to your ship,’ Tim said. ‘It turned out that reporter had a satellite phone, so we borrowed it and Ludokrus made a thing and ...’

  ‘Ah,’ Albert sighed and closed his eyes. ‘Something else I didn’t think of.’

  They thought they’d lost him for a moment, then his eyes opened again and he added, ‘But that is excellent news. Well done!’ He smiled which, considering his predicament, seemed bizarre. ‘What time was that?’

  ‘About eleven o’clock this morning.’

  ‘Then if all goes well, the new escape pod will be here about seven tomorrow evening. It’ll still be daylight, so be prepared. The ship will be programmed to avoid potential witnesses. You may need transport to get to it.’

  ‘L ... Ludokrus make electrobike,’ Alkemy said. ‘Is how we come here.’

  ‘Very resourceful. I see you really don’t need me any more. That’s a great comfort.’

  ‘But you—’

  ‘Keep in mind the escape pod will only wait a short time before returning to the ship. If you miss it, you’ll have to summon another. We can’t leave advanced spacecraft lying around, can we?’

  ‘But ... you will be coming with us. We can dig you out.’

  ‘No, I’m afraid you can’t. The damage is too severe. My situation is terminal. However, I am equipped with a special storage and recording module. It’s new technology and highly secret, which is what all that validation and voice analysis was about. We don’t want it falling into the wrong hands.’

  ‘I do not understand.’

  ‘I can’t explain now, only that you must retrieve it and take it back with you. It’s very important that you do. It is, however, in a rather awkward spot.’ As he was speaking, his free arm began twitching but not fully engaging, like a machine with a broken gear. He rolled his eyes towards Tim and said, ‘Would you mind pressing down on my shoulder?’

  Tim got to his feet and, directed by Albert, cupped his hands over the shoulder and gave it a downward shove.

  ‘Harder, please. Use all you weight.’

  Tim did so, and something graunched into place. The sound made him wince, but Albert thanked him, flexed his fingers and reached up to the back of his head where he began tearing out lumps of hair.

  ‘Aaarrgghh! What do you do?’ Alkemy cried.

  ‘Just ... trying ... to get at ... ah!’ There was a tearing slurp and he withdrew a thick wad of hair matted at the roots with blood and tissue.

  Tim groaned and looked away.

  ‘I’m sorry. It might be less disturbing if you turn your lights down.’

  It was hard to say if it was better or worse. The enclosed space seemed to amplify the smallest sounds; gooey, squelchy noises followed by tearing, like a knife slicing through taut fabric. Then there was a click and Albert muttered, ‘There, that’s it.’

  ‘Can we turn up the light, now?’

  ‘I wouldn’t advise it. But if you’ll oblige me Alkemy, give me your hand.’

  She felt for his fingers in the semi-darkness. They were moist and sticky.

  ‘My cranial chamber is designed to be accessed from the top,’ he explained, ‘but we don’t have the proper tools. You should however be able to reach up along my spinal duct and get at it from there now that I’ve cleared the way.’

  ‘No!’ Alkemy tried to withdraw her hand, but Albert held it firmly.

  ‘It must be you. It needs to be an Eltherian. More of those defence systems, I’m afraid. But you will need to roll up your sleeve.

  Alkemy did so.

  ‘Extraction of the memory core must be done in one swift movement. The instant it’s removed, defensive enzymes will activate and try to destroy it and whatever has removed it. If your hand gets stuck for even half a second, you might lose your arm — or worse.’

  Alkemy whimpered.

  ‘Don’t worry, we’ll rehearse the movement first.’

  He guided her to a position behind his neck, then lowered her hand on to what felt like the lip of a fleshy crater. She gasped and tried to draw away again, but he gently steered her back.

  ‘Can ... you feel that?’ she asked.

  ‘Faintly, yes. But it won’t be for long.’

  He guided her fingers into the crater and up a narrow channel to what felt like a small tunnel. The edges were smooth and rounded, like highly polished metal, but she had to squeeze the sides of her hand together to get it in. On the other side, she pushed through a thin membrane and into what felt like a chamber filled with warm, lumpy custard.

  ‘Move your fingers up and to the right until you encounter something the shape and size of a miniature light bulb,’ Albert said.

  Alkemy did so, her eyes screwed tight in concentration. Her arm was almost at full stretch now, but she focussed on the sensations from her fingertips and the finely detailed landscape they were exploring.

  The inner surface was concave and crowded with components. She could make out shapes. A latticework of triangular bumps, a rough patch of wiry bristles, a smooth expanse pitted with random indentations. And then she found it, quite distinct, an elongated globe the diameter of a whiteboard ma
rker pen sitting proud of the surface on a finely ribbed mound that felt both fleshy and metallic.

  ‘That’s it,’ Albert said quietly.

  ‘What do I do now?’ she asked, the pounding of her heart almost drowning out his reply.

  ‘Do nothing. Just feel its shape with your fingers, pretend you’re holding it, and withdraw your hand as rapidly as possible. Now!’

  Alkemy snatched her arm out, her fingers round an imaginary bulb.

  ‘Perfect,’ Albert said. ‘Do exactly that. Do you want more practice?’

  She shook her head then, realising it was dark, said, ‘No.’

  ‘Very well.’ He guided her hand back again. ‘Exactly the same procedure as before, except this time grab and pull the bulb.’

  ‘What will happen then?’

  ‘I believe I said my situation was terminal,’ he said. ‘Pull the bulb and out go the lights.’

  ‘How can you make jokes at a time like this?’

  ‘Because I am content. Knowing that you and your brother will escape this planet is all I could wish for.’

  Alkemy stopped. ‘No, I cannot do. I cannot kill you.’

  ‘I’m already finished, Alkemy. If you leave me, I’ll just die more slowly. Besides, you won’t really be killing me. On the contrary, you’ll be preserving my essence and everything I’ve learned. You will be doing me — and, more importantly, Eltheria — an incalculable service. That’s another reason I’m content: I have completed my mission to the best of my abilities.’

  ‘You mission?’

  ‘One more thing. Keep the memory bulb with you at all times. It’s set to detect the presence of you or your brother. If anything happens to you, or if you drop it or move more than a metre away from it, it will self-destruct. It’s only small, but most of its mass will be converted into energy. I estimate a blast radius of at least a metre.’

  Alkemy said nothing. Hot tears ran down her cheeks.

  ‘Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes.’ She closed her eyes, swallowed hard, then said with quiet concentration, ‘Thank you for all you do for us, Albert. I will miss you.’

  ‘I’ll miss you too, Alkemy.’

  She leaned forward and kissed the side of his head. Then she took a long slow breath and reached for the narrow opening.

  ‘All set?’ he said. ‘You’ll need a tight grip. Don’t worry, it’s quite robust. One sharp tug and pull your hand straight out. OK?’

  ‘OK.’ Her voice wavered.

  ‘Away you go ...’

  Alkemy closed her eyes and tugged. Hard. There was a muffled snap and the custardy substance around her hand began to boil, even as she was withdrawing her arm. She snatched it free as a rush of hot, acrid-smelling liquid surged from the cranial opening, overflowing the spinal channel and bubbling up over Albert’s neck and exposed shoulder. He arched slightly, gave a tiny grunt, and seemed to sink into the ground.

  30 : The Stuff of Nightmares

  Tim turned up his torch when he heard the grunt and saw a seething, bubbling, greenish stew around where Albert lay. Alkemy, in a state of shock, stepped back, trembling as choking fumes rose round her. He seized her by the shoulders and steered her towards the side passage where a waft of fresh air from the other mineshaft seemed to revive her.

  ‘We should go. Quick,’ he said as more fumes billowed towards them.

  She nodded, dived into the passage and disappeared. Tim glanced back. The noxious fog parted for an instant and he glimpsed metal stripped bare and a bubbling eye socket. He shuddered and dived after her.

  The side passage curved down, its glazed surface like the polished metal of a playground slide. An exhilarating ride in darkness, but one that ended at a cold stone floor. Tim picked himself up and found Alkemy wiping her bare arm with a handkerchief.

  ‘Are you OK? That stuff didn’t get you?’

  She shook her head then opened her hand to show what she’d recovered. Tim aimed his torch at it and saw a miniature version of an old-fashioned light bulb, still draped with tendrils of tissue. The base was an ornate circle of metal and the bulb swirled with mottled grey clouds that seemed to absorb the light and act as a kind of camouflage, making its edges difficult to see. At times it almost looked as if there wasn’t anything there at all.

  She wiped it carefully with her handkerchief then tucked it in the button-down pocket of her blouse. The one over her heart.

  Tim touched her shoulder. She looked at him, her mouth puckered, and she burst into tears. He held her and patted her back till the sobs subsided.

  ‘Looks like it’s still raining,’ he said at length.

  ‘Yeah.’ She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and they stared at the rocky floor where a film of water cascaded from the entrance, pooling in a corner by the dead-end before draining away through some unseen fissure.

  There was movement behind them, a sliding sound, followed by a soft click. Tim turned, but there was nothing to see.

  Nothing at all.

  ‘Where did that side passage go?’

  He played his torch over the wall. The entrance had vanished. A faint circular outline was all that remained, as if it had been closed off by a shutter. He ran his hand over the surface and could make out the iris-like segments that sealed it off.

  ‘You think maybe the fume trigger something?’ Alkemy said.

  ‘No, something isn’t right. When we first saw that passage I assumed Albert had cut it. But he couldn’t have. He was coming the other way. Running away from that cave-in.’

  ‘I do not understand.’

  ‘Remember that rock slide outside, the one just before this mineshaft? That must have been the one Albert went down. The shaft next door.’

  ‘But if he does not cut this hole—’ Alkemy began.

  ‘Gizzard Gully!’ Tim said. ‘The name on the signpost. I knew I’d heard it before.’

  ‘You know this place?’

  ‘The story on the TV news last night. About the first meteorite to hit this area twenty-five years ago. They interviewed Rambob. He was part of a search party looking for some missing men. He said they found them near Gizzard Gully. Near where the meteorite came down.’

  ‘And this meteorite ...?’

  ‘The Sentinels’ ship!’

  Alkemy put a hand to her mouth.

  ‘We’ve got to get out of here.’

  He grabbed her hand and was about to add that they should run for it when a section of the wall opposite slid back. A rock shutter, perfectly disguised, rose smoothly and silently, flooding the bottom of the mineshaft with a dazzling pink light. A light broken only by the shapes of two large silhouettes advancing towards them.

  Tim recognised them in an instant. They were the stuff of nightmares.

  * * *

  Rata Area Merchants was like the town itself, Alice thought as Rambob climbed a ladder to a high shelf. It needed a good shake up. A few modern ideas.

  ‘How about this one?’ he said, coming back down and holding out a metal contraption the size of a shoe box.

  ‘I want a humane one,’ Alice said.

  ‘The WhipItOff 2000‘s pretty humane. Look at that little guillotine blade. They won’t feel a thing.’

  ‘But I don’t want to behead them. I want to keep them. Alive.’

  He gave her an odd look. ‘What on earth for?’

  ‘I ... well ... I don’t believe in killing things.’

  ‘So what do you propose to do with them?’

  ‘I want to ... relocate them.’

  ‘Vermin are vermin in my book,’ Rambob said, rubbing his chin. ‘But if you want to relocate them, try a cat.’

  ‘A cat?’

  ‘One whiff of a cat and they’ll soon move on. If they know what’s good for them.’

  ‘Well, thank you anyway,’ Alice said. ‘I’ll just take the birdcage. And some of those muesli bars over there. And a handful of straw, if I may. How much is that?’

  She carried her purchases to her car, thinking ab
out what Eric had said. The mice had shown themselves! They’d escaped from Albert, but they’d lost their ship and were now trapped, friendless, on an alien planet with no way home.

  ‘Not quite friendless,’ Alice muttered as she raced out of Rata.

  * * *

  Shock and fear anchored Tim to the spot. He felt like a possum caught in the headlights of a fast-approaching car. Alkemy yanked his hand, tugged him sideways and dragged him back against the wall where the side passage had been. It hardly provided any cover, but there was nowhere else to go in the flood of pink light.

  Pressed flat against the wall, willing themselves to sink into it, they felt the cold dampness of the rock seep into their bones. The swaying shadows loomed larger, accompanied by a throaty chittering — like the sound of birds being strangled — and slowly, as if in a dream, Tim’s mind began to clear.

  Days before, the Sentinels had tried to coerce him and his sister into becoming their agents. Wearing them down with sleeplessness. Pursuing them through nightmares every time they closed their eyes. He recognised them at once, even in outline. Creatures that resembled gigantic slugs. They moved with a rippling and frilling of their slimy undersides and could reverse direction in an instant by simply slurping their insides about so they faced the other way. Now they were approaching in the oozing flesh, moving to block off their only escape route.

  The chittering grew louder, the shadows loomed larger, and a musty stench rolled over them. A mix of rotting compost, rubbish tips and stagnant ponds. Tim held his breath. The smell grew more intense.

  Pressed there, not daring to breathe, he became aware of the tiniest sensations. Moisture seeping into the fabric of his clothes. A faint squelching audible between the rasping chitters. The scurrying of a weta as it sought refuge from the glare. And the looming shadows that blotted out the light before suddenly receding again.

  He risked a peek. They were moving away. The silhouettes were heading up the mineshaft. Blocking the exit, certainly, but at least they were moving away.

  They hadn’t been seen.

  He nudged Alkemy. She stared at him. He read the words in her frightened expression: ‘What now?’