I Left My Sneakers in Dimension X (9781439113240)

by Bruce Coville

  “Let me check the data banks,” she said, pulling the silvery wire from her wrist band once again.

  Grakker turned his attention to Phil and Tar Gibbons. “I ask you the same question: Who or what could have taken our shipmate?”

  The Tar blinked its big eyes. “I know of no one who has such a power. But let us consider an alternative possibility. Could this disappearance be something the Mental Masters do automatically under certain circumstances—for example, if Snout’s vital symptoms dropped to a certain level, is it not possible he might have preset his body to do what it just did?”

  “Possible, but unlikely,” said Madame Pong, withdrawing the wire from her ear. “Not that he couldn’t have done such a thing. But if that were the case, he would have prepared us to expect such a disappearance. No, this is clearly some outside force. The question is, is it the work of an enemy or simply some factor of life in Dimension X that we are not aware of? Whatever did it,” she added, turning to Grakker, “it is not something that appears in the data banks.”

  “Perhaps it was one of the higher secrets of the Mental Masters,” burped Phil. “One that Snout could not speak of, even to us.”

  “Which leaves us right back where we started,” said Tar Gibbons.

  “A place in which we cannot remain,” said Grakker resolutely. “We must find food, shelter, and assistance.”

  I looked at him in surprise. I had half expected him to insist that we would stay where we were until we located Snout. But since Snout could have been anywhere in Dimension X—or out of it, for that matter—I realized that that wouldn’t make sense.

  Unfortunately nothing else seemed to make any sense, either. We had nothing to indicate one direction would be any better than another, not a single clue to guide us. I don’t think it is possible to be more lost than we were at the time.

  “I could try putting down roots,” said Phil.

  Grakker frowned. “I do not want to risk another crew member.”

  “Warrior Science says when there is no other choice, make the choice that is possible,” said Tar Gibbons.

  Grakker paused, then nodded. “All right,” he said to Phil. “Try.”

  Phil climbed out of his pot. I moved closer to Madame Pong. Leaning down, I whispered into her large, pointed ear, “What’s he doing?”

  “He is going to try to penetrate the soil with his roots. By doing so, he may be able to gather information from other plants.”

  “What are the odds that there will be intelligent plants here?” I asked. Even though Phil acted offended whenever someone was surprised by meeting an intelligent plant, the fact that he was the only one on the crew seemed to indicate that his type of being was not all that common.

  Tar Gibbons had overheard me. “Something does not have to be intelligent in order to offer information,” it said, stretching its long neck in order to speak directly into my ear. “If Phil can tap into the plant web, he may be able to sense things that can lead us to centers of population; even tell us which ones, if any, are good places for us to go.”

  “What kind of things?” asked Elspeth.

  The Tar blinked its baseball-sized eyes. “Chemical traces of life activity. Signs of the interaction between being and environment. For example, soil enriched by respect or depleted by carelessness. Phil can read these things, even at a distance.”

  I thought I understood, and turned to watch Phil. He had spread his roots around him in an even pattern. They were arched and stiff, almost as if he was flexing them, so that they held his main stem a few inches above the ground. The tips of the roots were tapping, tapping, tapping at the soil. The rest of his body was perfectly still, and I could tell he was focusing all his attention, all his energy, on the roots.

  He tapped harder and harder.

  His leaves began to quiver.

  I was wondering if this was a sign of frustration when a voice behind me said, in very cranky tones, “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

  CHAPTER

  10

  Out of Shape

  I SPUN AROUND TO SEE who was speaking, then stumbled backward in astonishment.

  The ground was looking at me. Well, actually it was probably looking at Phil. In either case, the effect was pretty startling.

  When I say it was looking at us, I mean exactly that. The soil, or whatever, had opened an eye about two feet from where I had been standing. I glanced around nervously, wondering if I would see eyes opening all over the place. To my relief, this was the only one.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” repeated the voice.

  Grakker started to say something, but Madame Pong held up a long-fingered hand to silence him. “We humbly beg your pardon,” she said, making a little bow in the direction of the eye. “We were seeking assistance.”

  “Why?”

  “We are fleeing from someone who wishes to harm us.”

  The eye blinked. “Who?” asked the voice.

  “That is classified information,” said Grakker gruffly. “Do not answer, Madame.”

  “Objection overruled,” said Madame Pong.

  A dangerous rumble started low in Grakker’s throat.

  “We are not on the ship now, Captain,” said Madame Pong smoothly. “This is a diplomatic matter, and I have jurisdiction.” Turning back to the eyeball, she said, “We are being sought by a creature named Smorkus Flinders.”

  I wondered if she was making a big mistake. What if the eyeball was working for Smorkus Flinders? Maybe it could contact him instantly and tell him where we were. But Madame Pong’s diplomatic instincts must have been right on target, because the eyeball blinked and said, “Ah, that changes things. I do not like Smorkus Flinders. I would be glad to help you, except for the fact that you are standing on me, and your friend has been trying to drill a hole through my flesh.”

  Feeling guilty, I glanced down at my feet. I would have moved, but I didn’t know where to go so that I wouldn’t be standing on the guy. For all I knew, we were talking to the whole planet—assuming they actually had planets in Dimension X.

  Madame Pong asked the question for me. “Where would you like us to move?”

  “If you would all take about ten paces backward, I would appreciate it,” replied the voice.

  I glanced over my shoulder, then backed away. Muttering to himself, waving his tendrils, Phil climbed into his pot and floated over to join the rest of us.

  “Thank you,” said the voice, which seemed to come from underneath us, though not from any specific spot.

  As we watched, the ground suddenly began to ripple and flow, rising up and moving toward the eyeball like some speeded–up educational film showing how mountains are formed. In a matter of seconds we saw the outline of a body. In less than a minute the eyeball—now encased in a complete body, including another eyeball—stood up. The body was stocky and slightly taller than Grakker and the crew, though still shorter than Elspeth or me. Its skin was the same color as the ground. At least, it started out that color. However, a few seconds after it had assumed its new shape it also changed color, becoming a deep maroon, almost purple.

  It had no clothing, which I suppose made sense for something that could change shape that way; I mean, how could you expect the clothes to change with you? For a minute I wondered if I should cover Elspeth’s eyes, or tell her to look away. But since I couldn’t tell whether the newcomer was a man or a woman myself (and from previous conversations with the aliens I knew that it was entirely possible that it was neither) I decided it did not make that much difference.

  “Greetings,” it said, touching a pudgy maroon hand to its forehead. “Galuspa Nosto Fingel Fingel Istenkeppel at your service. You may call me Galuspa.”

  “Greetings, Galuspa,” replied Madame Pong, repeating the gesture. “Our apologies for having stood upon you.”

  “Quite all right,” said the creature. “After all, if you had known not to stand on me, it would have meant that my disguise was not working very well, don’t
you think?”

  “Definitely,” said Madame Pong.

  The creature smiled. “It’s effective, wouldn’t you say? The disguise, I mean.”

  “Very,” said Madame Pong. “Is it unique, or do others of your kind do the same thing?”

  “Oh, we all take different shapes. But I like being the ground best. It does mean you get walked on occasionally. But you pretty much get ignored, too, which is the point of the whole thing, of course.”

  “Of course,” said Madame Pong. “And I am sorry that we disturbed you. However, now that we have, perhaps you can indeed help us. Is there anywhere nearby that we can rest in safety, get some food, maybe even some assistance?”

  Food. What a good idea. I was starving! Thirsty, too.

  Our formerly flat friend looked at us carefully. “Exactly why is Smorkus Flinders after you?”

  I wondered how Madame Pong would answer. Clearly this guy (I’m going to call him a guy for the sake of convenience) didn’t like Smorkus Flinders. On the other hand, if he thought helping us might put him and his people in danger, maybe he would decide against it.

  Madame Pong pointed to Elspeth and me. “Smorkus Flinders stole these children from their home in Dimension Q in order to lure us here.”

  (This was the first I knew that we lived in Dimension Q!)

  “Why did he want to lure you here?” asked Galuspa.

  Madame Pong was smooth. Nothing she did or said gave me a clue that she was holding back part of the story when she replied, “He is seeking vengeance because we tracked down and arrested a friend of his.” It was the little growl in Grakker’s throat and the way I could feel him tensing up beside me that reminded me of Snout’s unfinished comment about the captain antagonizing Smorkus Flinders. I wondered what that was all about. I wondered if I would ever find out.

  Galuspa made a gesture that I understood to mean that Madame Pong’s answer made sense to him. “I can take you to a place where you will be safer than you are now,” he said. “How safe, I cannot guarantee. As long as Smorkus Flinders rules this place, no one can be sure of anything.”

  “I wanna go home!” said Elspeth. “This minute!”

  “We gratefully accept your assistance,” murmured Madame Pong as I tried to glare my cousin into silence.

  Galuspa looked at Elspeth and turned his whole body into a giant head with a big frown. I couldn’t tell if he was being sympathetic, or making fun of her.

  “Stop it!” snapped Elspeth, stamping her foot. A weird look crossed her face and she glanced at the ground nervously, suddenly afraid she had whalloped one of Galuspa’s relatives.

  “Has she been eating well?’ asked the shapeshifter, snapping back into his regular form. “She sounds as if she’s constipated.”

  Before Elspeth could come up with a reply to this—and I could tell she was working on one—Madame Pong laid a warning hand on her shoulder. Though her touch appeared to be gentle, Elspeth got the message, since she managed to keep her mouth shut. Which was just as well, since I had the impression that Galuspa’s question was sincere and not a wisecrack.

  “None of us are doing well at the moment,” said Madame Pong softly.

  Galuspa nodded. “Follow me. I will do what I can.”

  When he turned and began to walk away I noticed that his shape changed slightly with each step that he took—bulging out here or there, then snapping back into place, as if his edges were not that firm.

  We hesitated, and I knew we were all thinking the same thing: Maybe we should not leave this place without Snout. But after a moment Grakker grunted and began to walk. The rest of us followed him.

  Though the land had appeared flat at first, I began to realize that it curved gently up and down. The ground remained soft and spongy—usually just soft enough to be easy on the feet, but sometimes so soft that it was actually hard to walk. It was multicolored, the colors in the form of large, irregular patches that were quite distinct from each other, so that we might walk for ten or fifteen feet over a patch of orange ground and then come to a patch of lime green. It was odd, but sort of pretty. I kept wondering if the patches were Galuspa’s relatives.

  Two things made the landscape even stranger. First, there did not seem to be any plants; the ground was bare and smooth in all directions. Second, the boiled macaroni “sky” curved to match the ground, so that whether we were going uphill or down, it was always the same distance above us.

  As we walked, Galuspa told us about his people: how they preferred hiding to fighting, but could be very fierce when provoked; how much they hated Smorkus Flinders; and how they used ladders to pull the macaroni stuff (which they called kispa-dinka) out of the sky so that they could eat it.

  I wondered if the macaroni stuff was actually some sort of plant life. I was walking along, staring up at it and trying to figure this out, when I fell into a hole.

  I’m used to stumbling like that; they don’t call me Rod the Clod for nothing.

  What I’m not used to is once I’ve fallen down having some furry thing leap onto my back and then wrap itself around my head.

  CHAPTER

  11

  The Chibling

  PANIC SWEPT THROUGH MY BODY. “Get it off!” I cried. “Whatever it is, get it off me!”

  “Eeep!” shrieked the thing on top of me. “Eeep! Eeep!”

  I reached up and tried to grab it, then pulled my hands back. So far the thing was only holding on to my head. What if when I tried to pull it off it decided to bite me? I had a sudden fear of catching the Dimension X version of rabies or something.

  Because this was so sudden, because I had no idea what had grabbed me, I think I was even more frightened than when Smorkus Flinders had picked me up. At least I had been able to see him.

  Galuspa came to my rescue. “Uh-oh,” he said, sounding amused. “Looks like you’ve found a chibling.”

  “I didn’t find anything!” I yelled. “It found me. Get it off!”

  “Certainly,” said Galuspa.

  Muttering quietly, as if to reassure the thing, he pried it away from my head.

  For a moment I lay with my face against the ground. I patted the back of my head, trying to discover if any of my skull had been removed, or melted, or anything like that. When I decided that it felt normal I rolled over. Galuspa stood there smiling at me. Nestled in his arms was a ball of purple fur the size of a watermelon. I was a little annoyed to realize that I had been terrified by something that looked like a carnival prize.

  “Here,” said Galuspa, holding the creature out to me. “Your chibling.”

  “It’s not mine,” I replied. I decided against standing up until we had this worked out.

  “It is now,” replied the shapeshifter firmly.

  A little alarm bell went off in my head. “What do you mean by that?”

  “It’s bonded to you,” said Galuspa. “Emotionally attached. Doesn’t take them long to do that, for some reason. If you leave it behind now, it will mourn helplessly for weeks. It won’t eat or sleep. Eventually it will die.”

  Great. One more thing to feel guilty about.

  A large eyeball appeared in the mass of purple fur, then another. “Eeep!” said the chibling, struggling to get out of Galuspa’s arms. “Eeep! Eeep! Eeep!”

  “Is there any way to get it to bond with something else?” I asked as it broke free and came hurtling toward me.

  “It’s possible, but not easy,” said Galuspa.

  The chibling wrapped itself around my leg and began to make a high-pitched humming noise. Though the noise itself was pretty, I had been around enough dogs to get nervous when an animal attaches itself to my leg that way. “What’s it doing?” I cried in alarm.

  “What do you mean?” asked Galuspa.

  “That sound. What is it?”

  “It probably just means that it’s happy,” said Elspeth. “Like it’s purring or something.”

  “I do not know what purring means,” said Galuspa, “but the sound is indeed one of ha
ppiness. It means that it is glad to have found you. Once chiblings reach second stage, they must find a sentient creature to bond with. It is their first life task.”

  “I want one,” said Elspeth.

  “You can have this one,” I said, giving my leg a shake.

  The chibling shrieked and tightened its grip.

  “Or maybe not,” I said with a sigh.

  “I want one!” repeated Elspeth.

  “Actually, that would be a bad idea,” said Galuspa.

  “Why?” asked Elspeth.

  “The more you have, the dumber they get, at least while in second stage.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “You three can discuss the psychological development of chiblings later,” interrupted Grakker, who had been watching this scene with growing impatience. “Right now I would rather continue our trip. I wish to have the crew in a place of safety so that we can begin considering our next moves. Can you walk with that thing attached to your leg, Deputy Allbright?”

  I stood up and took a few steps. “I think so.”

  “It won’t be necessary for long,” said Galuspa. “Once the chibling realizes you’re not trying to get rid of it, it will let go and run along beside you.”

  “How will it know I’m not trying to get rid of it?”

  “It will know.”

  “Do you mean it will read my mind?” I asked in alarm.

  Galuspa paused, as if he was trying to figure out how to answer this. “It will read your intentions he said at last. “It’s not as if it can understand your every thought. But it will have a sense of what you intend to do in regard to itself. As soon as you stop thinking about getting rid of it, it will let go by itself and be content to walk beside you.”

  This was like telling you that a toothache would go away if you would just stop thinking about it. The more you try to stop, the more your mind dwells on it.

  “Let’s go,” I sighed.

  Grakker grunted with satisfaction. We began to move again, me walking with my legs spread awkwardly apart to make room for the chibling.