OtherPlace

by Michael D. Britton

  #

  Within the hour, they were approaching what was considered the outer edge of Doom Circle. Rush checked his inputs once more and launched the beacon, watching it through the transparent roof as it shot skyward like a firework until it was out of sight.

  “All right,” said Biggs, “I want you to slow down to a hundred kay, so we can make visual observations as we enter the zone.

  “Yes, Sir,” said Rush. “Slowing to one hundred. Is there any particular heading, Sir, or are we just going straight in?”

  “Take us straight in. Let’s see if we can get further than anybody else ever has. And keep your eyes open for any shipwrecks,” he said. “Oh, and activate the energy shield around the ship – just in case.

  Rush nodded and raised the shield. Everything took on a gentle yellow hue until he remembered to switch on the spectral compensator.

  They continued in a straight line toward the center of the Circle for about twenty minutes. Rush looked around, figuring this crater was just like any of the thousands of others he’d flown over in his last few years as a pilot.

  Suddenly, the sky began to get significantly brighter overhead, spreading to the horizon.

  “What’s going on, Rush?” barked Biggs.

  “Not sure, Sir. My scans don’t show anything out of the -”

  Rush couldn’t finish, astonished to see the landscape transformed around the Shifter and turn into – it wasn’t clear what it was becoming.

  It looked like the lush green forests Rush had seen in vids of Earth’s northern territories – Canada, or maybe the Northern European Union. The Shifter maintained speed, nearly skimming the tops of the trees that reached up toward it like grasping fingers.

  “What’s our current position?” asked Biggs.

  “Um,” said Rush. He looked at his chartsreen and scopes once, then again, then one more time.

  “Rush?”

  “I-I can’t tell, Sir. All of the stars we use for triangulation are – are somehow misplaced in the sky, Sir.”

  “What?” asked Chantal. “That’s impossible. Look, I may not know how to pilot this thing, but I was a stellar cartography major in college – and I do know how to read a chartscreen. Lemme see.”

  Rush looked up at Biggs.

  “Well, that is why I brought her along,” said Biggs.

  Chantal leaned over and looked at the screen.

  “All the stars are shifted from their normal positions in relation to each other,” said Chantal. “It’s as if they’ve been juggled and dropped at random. There must be something wrong with the scanners.”

  “No,” said Rush, running a quick diagnostic program, “everything’s working fine. He tapped the controls, pulling up so the Shifter would rise to an altitude of a thousand meters – so they could try to get their bearings. “Take a look around us,” he said, “we should be able to spot Dragon’s Ridge.”

  In all directions, the landscape looked completely unfamiliar, and the lunar landmark Dragon’s Ridge was nowhere in sight. Every way they looked, the only thing they saw was rolling hills covered in green trees and lush purple ground foliage. The sky was unusually bright and blue.

  “Okay,” said Chantal, “I’ve got it figured out. The stars are mixed up because they’re in the positions they would’ve been a very long time ago.”

  “Are you trying to say we’ve time traveled?” asked Biggs. “Don’t be silly. You’ve been reading too much science fiction.”

  A collision rocked the vessel.

  “What was that?” asked Biggs, clinging to an overhead compartment for balance.

  “Something struck the starboard exohull,” said Rush. “Something fairly large.”

  “Take us up!” yelled Biggs.

  Rush punched the controls, and the Shifter lurched to two thousand meters before leveling off. He circled back around to see what had hit them. Far below, they could see some kind of activity.

  “Bringing z-axis view to screen, magnified,” said Rush.

  “What are those things?” asked Chantal.

  “Trebuchets,” said Biggs. “Trebuchets launching flaming bombs into the air!”

  “That must be what hit us,” said Rush. “But – trebuchets? Aren’t those some kind of medieval weapon?”

  “Yes,” said Biggs. “But look there – what’s that?”

  Far below, a fortress of some kind sat in a clearing in the forested land. Beside each wall sat a row of six trebuchets. And beside the trebuchets were what looked like the characters from a classic fantasy novel.

  “Are those unicorns?” asked Chantal.

  “No such thing,” said Biggs, “and certainly not on the moon.”

  Rush zoomed the image in further. “What about those?” he asked, looking over at Biggs.

  Biggs’ mouth gaped as he stared at what appeared to be a small legion of elves or dwarves or some kind of odd-looking creatures, as well as a dragon chained to the fortress’ outer wall, and a man on one of the ramparts, dressed in a flowing gown, and wielding a baton.

  A wizard.

  A wizard looking right back at them.

  “What in the name of -” Biggs whispered.

  A bolt of lightning sprung from the end of the wizard’s wand, and a moment later, the Shifter shook with the jolt, tipping to starboard and suddenly losing altitude.

  “He’s hit our starboard engine!” said Rush. “I’m trying to compensate, but we’re dropping fast!”

  Rush’s hands flew over the controls, pounding buttons, sliding levers, and tugging on the retractable joystick. The world below spun in ever-faster circles as it got closer and closer.

  “Ruuuuusshhhhhh!” yelled Biggs, clinging for dear life to the co-pilots chair, in which Chantal sat clenching the arms with her nails digging in, and struggling not to scream.

  In a last-ditch effort to avoid a sudden stop, Rush flicked the afterburner switch and yelled, “Hang on!”

  The Shifter shot forward, a blur across the top of the trees. Branches and leaves smacked the front window as the vessel dipped into the foliage, gradually crashing through thicker limbs as it cut its way toward the ground at a much shallower angle than its previous crash trajectory (which was almost straight down).

  “Brace for impact!” yelled Rush.

  The Shifter bounced once as it struck the ground, then slid for about two hundred meters before coming to rest in a small clearing, just three meters from a small body of water.

  “Everyone okay?” asked Rush.

  Biggs had a gash on his forehead where he’d hit the console, but Chantal had managed to strap herself into the co-pilot’s chair, so she was fine.

  “Let’s get a look at the damage,” said Rush, stepping out of the clear pilot’s alcove to the back and climbing a steel ladder to the roof hatch.

  He stepped out onto the roof and climbed down the side of the craft to the ground. The starboard engine was fried, but still present – it would need new wiring at least – possibly more to get it up and running again. The hull wasn’t too badly damaged – the landing was relatively soft, and the energy shield had held for most of the bumps, leaving only a few scratches and dings in the belly of the ship.

  Rush climbed back up and into the Shifter. “She’s gonna needs some work, but she’ll get us home.”

  “Home,” said Biggs. “What I’d like to know is where we are now.”

  Chantal had been studying the charts while Rush was outside. “We’re in the Circle,” she said. “I mean, we are where the Circle is, spatially speaking, but we’re not in the same time frame. This is the moon. We are a few hundred kilometers outside of Kennedy Territory. But Kennedy Territory, as we know it, doesn’t exist yet. According to my numbers, it won’t for another . . . two billion years.”

  “Sshhh!” Rush snapped. He whispered, “There’s something out there.”

  They stood still and peered around, moving their eyes only, as they looked out the windows of the Shifter. They heard a rustling sound, and then a scrap
ing sound on the hull, and finally the roof hatch opened.

  Biggs reached for his sidearm.

  “Juyen’t haas plithkin,” said a man’s voice. “Juyen’t?”

  An aging figure, long white hair and long white beard, wearing rough gray robes, descended the ladder. “Juyen’t?”

  Biggs leveled his weapon at the man. “Who are you? What do you want? You’re trespassing on my ship!”

  The man stared at Biggs for a full ten seconds, then reached into his robes.

  “I’m warning you!” yelled Biggs.

  The man pulled out a simple stick, about thirty centimeters long, which came to a point at one end. He touched it to his temple and closed his eyes, then muttered, “Shoyo, hrentiss, venn.”

  “What are you doing?” asked Biggs. “Put that thing down – let me see your hands.”

  “Have no fear,” said the man. “I can now understand you, and you, me. I am not here to harm you. I am here to help.”

  “Who are you?” asked Biggs.

  “My name is Clenti. My title is Master. At least, it was. That is somewhat in dispute.”

  “Where are we?” asked Rush.

  “You are in my back yard, I suppose,” said Clenti. “I am interested to learn more about your vessel. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.” He squinted as he looked at Biggs’ head wound. “Come, I will repair your injury. We’ll go to my home, and I will try to answer your questions, as you answer mine.”

  Biggs turned to Rush and Chantal, and nodded toward Clenti. “Let’s go with him.”

  They climbed out of the Shifter and followed Clenti around the pond, past some large trees, and through an arched stone gateway. They headed down a gently sloping path, tall grass and wildflowers each side, and then through a tunnel of densely packed trees with entwined branches overhead forming a canopy. Birds twittered in the trees, and a squirrel-like creature scurried across the path ahead of them.

  Finally, as the sky was dimming, they reached a cottage made of stone with a thatched roof.

  Clenti led them inside without a word.

  Nearly everything in the simple home was made of dark wood, from the bookshelves that lined the walls, to the ancient-looking chairs, to the lone table covered with empty flasks and vials that sat near a door that led deeper into the home. A ragged rug covered the stone floor.

  “My apologies,” said Clenti, “but even as the season grows warmer, my old bones are cold. Do you mind if I stoke the fire?”

  “Go ahead,” said Biggs.

  Clenti flicked his wand toward the gray stone hearth, and the embers suddenly flared up into a full roaring fire.

  “What is that tool you use? Where’s the power source?” Rush asked.

  “Just a simple wand,” said Clenti. “It’s not a tool, exactly – it has no inherent power of its own.”

  “So, are you a – a wizard?” asked Chantal.

  Clenti stepped to Biggs and examined his bloody forehead. Then he touched the tip of his wand to Biggs’ head. Biggs flinched. Then the wound closed up. Clenti wiped a moist towel across the wound, cleaning off the blood to reveal a perfect patch of skin – no cut, no bruise.

  “As I stated, I am Master,” said Clenti. “Now you answer some questions. Which kingdom do you represent?”

  “Uh – no kingdom,” said Biggs. “We came from Kennedy Territory.”

  “Your vessel – who constructed it?”

  “It’s a knock-off of an Earth Fleet Third Regiment mid-level transport. It was made in New Japan by a company called Sumatka.”

  “Earth Fleet?” asked Clenti. “What is this Earth? Is that your kingdom?”

  Biggs, Rush, and Chantal all looked at each other. Chantal looked out the thick glass window at the darkened world.

  “I’ll show you,” she said.

  She stepped outside, Clenti and the others in tow, and pointed up.

  “That is Earth,” she said, pointing at the planet. “But, uh, it’s normally not so red. Rush – why do you think it’s so red?”

  Rush reached into his utility belt and pulled out a tiny pair of million-power binoculars. “Wow. Either that’s not the Earth, or it has changed a lot. It’s all volcanic activity, nearly no water, and the continents are all shifted. Wait, yes, I can make out the Americas. It’s Earth, but everything is shifted around.”

  “Makes sense,” said Chantal. “If this really is two billion years in the past, that’s what the Earth would look like. But then, how –”

  “How could there be life on the moon?” finished Biggs.

  “I must admit,” said Clenti, “that I really don’t understand what the three of you are talking about. But perhaps a history lesson would clarify things for all of us.”

  They stepped back inside, and Clenti took a seat by the fire in a cushy arm chair covered in an old brown shawl.

  “The body in the sky you call Earth, is called Ulos. Our world, Irit, orbits Ulos, and Ulos orbits the sun. The history of Irit goes back thousands of generations – our earliest records are millions of orbits old, and they are relatively new compared to the oral history.”

  Rush suddenly thought of the Circle of Doom, and the other lost vessels. “Have you ever met anyone else like us?”

  “Not myself, no. Though my father claimed to have met several people from Ulos. He was declared mad, of course, and locked away. But I believe that Grick, the Dark Master, has captured people such as yourselves. I believe he is using some of their knowledge to expand his domain.”

  “Grick,” said Biggs. “Another guy with a beard, by any chance? Who likes to shoot down vessels using lightning?”

  “Yes,” said Clenti. “He is my arch-nemesis. He usurped my Mastership shortly after my father was killed. He has a large estate not far from here.”

  “Yes, we saw it,” said Chantal. “With armies of elves, trebuchets, and even a dragon!”

  “Look,” said Biggs, “I don’t want to get into the middle of your wizard war. We just need to repair our ship and get home. Can you help us?”

  “I –” Clenti paused and his eyes became glassy. “They are coming. You must –”

  It was too late. A battering ram smashed through the front door, splintering the wood into tiny pieces.

  A crowd of short, armored men with torches rushed in. Clenti vanished. Biggs struggled to his feet but was grabbed by three of the soldiers. Rush reached for Chantal, but she too was seized. As two more of the intruders attempted to hold Rush, he broke free and ran into the back room. He slammed the door behind him and looked around quickly. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he saw the back door, and fled out of it deep into the woods surrounding the cottage.

  As he crouched and watched through the trees, he saw the train of torches march off. He wanted to save Chantal and Biggs, but knew he couldn’t fight all those armed men alone. Frustrated, he sat on the grassy ground and buried his head in his hands.

  “I can help,” whispered Clenti from behind.

  “Why didn’t you use your magic wand to help back in the cottage?” Rush snapped.

  “Too many of them. I can only do so much. But I can repair your vessel, and you can rescue them yourself.”

  They crept through the woods, back to the Shifter’s crash site.

  Deep ruts in the ground, indicating it had been dragged away, were all that remained.

  “They took it!” cried Rush. “Now what’ll we do?”

  “Well,” said Clenti calmly, “we both know where they took it.”

  “That fortress? Great.”

  “I can place you inside it.”

  “With your wand? You can teleport me there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why can’t you just teleport my friends out of there?”

  “I do not know where they are being held, exactly. I cannot see through walls.”

  “Fine. Send me there now.”

  “Do you have a plan?”

  “I’ll think of something on the way.”

  “I w
ill accompany you. If you locate your ship, you’ll need me to repair it.”

  Clenti withdrew his wand, moved it in a small circle over their heads, and spoke a few foreign words.

  The world suddenly transformed around them. Rush found himself standing in a dark passageway with flaming sconces, outside a thick wooden door with a heavy iron handle.

  “I have taken us to one of the outer chambers, where I know Grick hoards his spoils. Your vessel may be within that door.”

  Rush tried to open it, but it was locked. A quick wave of Clenti’s wand and it opened.

  “Thanks,” said Rush. He crept inside.

  Empty.

  “This is only one room,” said Clenti. “We will search the others.”

  At the fifth room, they found the Shifter.

  A guard stood each side of it, facing the other way. Clenti knocked each one out with a flick from the wand. Rush ran over to the starboard engine.

  “This one. You need to fix this so I can lift off.”

  Clenti closed his eyes and focused intensely as he moved his wand like an orchestra conductor in a trance. “It is done.”

  “Thank you,” said Rush. “Where are the holding cells?”

  “On the far side of the compound.”

  Rush nodded, climbed into the ship and fired up the engines. He lifted a meter off the ground, then shot forward, smashing through the double barn doors and out into the night.

  He climbed quickly to five hundred meters, then banked sharply and circled the compound. He set his scanners to enhanced night vision and started looking for Biggs and Chantal.

  He quickly identified them – two huddled figures in the dungeons on the far side. He swept around and set his forward energy beam to disperse a low-intensity EM pulse that dissolved the entire outside wall of the detention block.

  He saw Biggs and Chantal run for it, along with several other prisoners.

  Before he could come around again and find a place to land and pick them up, a strange flying contraption rose up before him. It was a lighter-than-air craft comprised of two giant balloons, a propeller, and a lot of rigging. A large basket between the balloons was loaded with archers and a single trebuchet.

  A flaming ball was flung from the trebuchet, striking the front of the Shifter. With the energy shield still not working, it cracked the glass.

  Rush pulled up just as another fireball from below struck the port engine, completely tearing it away from the hull.

  He started to lose control, but managed to sideways-climb to a high altitude, far above the compound. The dual-ballooned craft gave chase, rising surprisingly fast into the upper reaches of the atmosphere. The front glass burst outward, shattering with the pressure differential.

  The war balloon came about to target the Shifter again. One more hit and he’d be toast.

  Rush strapped into his seat, aimed his ship at the war balloon and flew straight at the central basket.

  With a moment to spare, he ejected – seat and all – and the Shifter slammed into the other vessel in a shower of flames.

  Rush began to plummet to the ground. The high altitude and fast descent caused him to black out.