Misplaced Trilogy

by Brian Bennett

  “What’s that have to do with us?”

  “Everything, kid. This sector we’re in has always drawn a hard line against rebels. This just strengthens it. Nobody will turn a blind eye if they suspect us now.”

  “So what do we do?”

  Vorne looked him over. “First, we gotta do something about that pretty-boy hair.” He turned to the sink, grabbing a fist-full of Trey’s pink shirt. “Over here.”

  Trey fought being dragged to the sink, horrified at the thought of having his head shaved by a madman. “I can do it myself.”

  “Relax, kid. I’m just gonna mess you up.” Vorne yanked Trey down to the basin, nearly bashing his head against it. In a flurry, he began to slop handfuls of cold, dirty water into Trey’s hair.

  Trey elbowed Vorne in the gut. “I can do it myself.”

  Vorne drew back a fist, then relented. “You’ve got more fight than your father.”

  Trey glared back, water dripping down his face. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Nothing. I just took you to be soft like everyone else in this place. A little older and you’d fit right in here.”

  “Yeah, well I’ll take brains over brawn any day.”

  “Spoken like Arken himself,” said Vorne with a huff. “I met the man once. Right here in Sector C. This is where he lived, you know?”

  Trey swallowed hard, torn by anger, sentiment, and heartbreak. “I wouldn’t know.”

  “He sure did, fraternizing with the brothers like a prince while we fought in the trenches.”

  Done with the conversation, Trey turned to the mirror and wiped gray muck from his face. “What does looking like I dunked my head in the toilet accomplish?”

  “Nothing yet! Swish it around. Even it out. Just tame down that glow in your hair.”

  “And what about my clothes?”

  “Oh don’t worry about that. They’re the only part of you that won’t stand out.”

  * * *

  Before long, Vorne had led Trey out of the utility area into a world as mundane as a budget hotel. Narrow halls lined with successions of sealed doors stretched ahead. Vorne’s heavy boots beat the weathered blue carpet in muffled strides as he made a quick pace, looking constantly over his shoulder.

  Another turned corner revealed an end to the hallways and daylight ahead, not the dull overcast gloom of Kryo, but the warm sunshine of a cloudless afternoon. Motion stirred in the distance, pedestrians, cars, and the like.

  Vorne slowed to a stroll, signaling Trey to do the same. He turned and backed against the wall, protecting himself from view by the bustle outside. Trey stepped alongside him and peered into the opening. A sidewalk and curb lay just beyond the end of their carpeted corridor. Brick buildings lined the opposite side of the street, giving the impression of lurking in an alley.

  A car passed slowly, its wheels turning unnaturally without touching the pavement like a kiddy ride at an amusement park. The exaggerated curves in the car’s body and the brilliant color of its paintjob reinforced the cartoonish quality.

  A man in a navy blue suit strolled past, arm-in-arm with a woman in a long dress, her black hair straight down her back.

  Trey turned inquisitively. “I thought there were no women on Kryo?”

  Vorne glared. “And you were right.”

  “Oh, I see.” Trey looked back to the artificial city. “Is this some sort of theme park?”

  “No,” Vorne grunted. “Well, I suppose in a way it is. But not the way you’re thinking. It’s more of a lifestyle for some. For others, it’s a training ground.”

  A fully-clothed alien with jet black eyes stepped from a building across the street, stealing Trey’s breath.

  Trey threw himself against the wall to hide his face.

  “Oh, don’t worry about those guys. They wouldn’t know the difference. We all look alike to them.”

  Trey sighed heavily, discovering his rapid heartbeats for the first time. “What do we do now?”

  “We wait.”

  “For what?”

  “Just wait.”

  Before long, Trey got his answer.

  A distant explosion reverberated through the wall at Trey’s back, more like the beat of a massive bass drum and less like the hard jolt of TNT.

  Vorne pushed away from the wall, dragging Trey with him. “That’s our cue.”

  They stood at the carpet’s fringe, peering into the stillness created by the concussion. Men and aliens dressed as men stood frozen in place with ears perked toward the disturbance.

  “Wait for it,” whispered Vorne.

  A wave of people-in-motion stirred at the far end of the long city street. Muffled pops arose behind them like the kernels of microwave popcorn. Slowly, the nearby men turned and walked away from the approaching mob, each step growing slightly faster than the prior.

  “Now,” said Vorne, stepping into the fleeing crowd.

  Trey trotted alongside him, his face low and hidden.

  A man stepped from a building to peer toward the madness. Trey clipped him hard, shoulder against shoulder, nearly knocking the man to the ground.

  “Sorry!” Trey shouted, without looking back.

  Vorne darted into the congested street. Cars sat at a standstill, wedged at odd angles attempting to turn and retreat within the intersection. Trey followed closely, weaving a path between bumpers that were obviously going nowhere. He glanced up for street lights and found none. Farther above, the blue sky made him do a double-take. Puffy, motionless clouds were painted on the high ceiling. A ball of light as bright as the sun hung just below the two dimensional clouds.

  At the opposite curb, Trey and Vorne rushed onto the sidewalk of the intersecting street.

  Foot traffic lightened immediately.

  Trey hadn’t noticed when the distant blasts had ceased, but a loss of urgency crept over the fleeing crowd the farther they got from the main fairway.

  Slowly, the sidewalks emptied.

  One-by-one people disappeared into buildings that began to look less like Hollywood sets and more like the dismal Kryo Trey anticipated. The artificial brick store fronts gave way to concrete facades with no windows and single, unassuming doors.

  Vorne pointed far ahead. “See that building?”

  A large industrial structure dwarfed all others, marking the conclusion of the dead-end street. The painted blue sky also terminated at the building’s ten-story roofline.

  Trey nodded. “That’s where we’re going. Isn’t it?”

  Star Map

  THE FARTHER TREY followed Vorne into the halls of the massive building, the more his surroundings took on a dark third-world quality. Stone floors replaced the dingy carpet. Unmarked doorways lined every corridor, the rooms concealed by thin draperies.

  Large industrial lettering marked the end of another long passageway, the only indication of whether to go left, right, or up another flight of concrete stairs.

  Vorne turned left.

  Along yet another corridor, Trey’s leader turned without warning to throw aside the curtain and burst into a room unannounced. Trey waited just outside.

  “Get in here,” called Vorne.

  Trey cautiously pushed aside the drape and slipped into the dimly lit room. The orange glow of a flickering flame cast quivering shadows against the close walls and low ceiling. Where Trey had expected to find a man bedridden, he saw only dingy blankets twisted in a pile next to a flattened pillow with a greasy head-stain.

  Two dark silhouettes stood between Trey and a desk lantern, one of them Vorne, the other a mystery.

  His heart pounded, sensing a trap, a long drawn out ploy to lure him away from the security of the rebels.

  One of the shadows spoke gruffly. “What the hell are you looking at? Get with it then, we haven’t got all day.”

  “Sorry,” said Trey, “I thought you were bedridden.”

  “Not me, you fool.” He slid the lantern from the desk and shoved it forward, bringing light to his long, white beard and we
athered robe.

  He shook the light toward the floor.

  Trey jerked at the sight of a man looking up at him. If he’d stepped any farther into the room, he’d have stumbled over the man’s outstretched legs.

  Vorne spoke up. “You coulda put him in the bed.”

  “Hell no. I don’t share my bed with anyone.”

  “A chair then,” said Vorne. “It just seems inhumane to leave him on the floor this way.”

  The paralyzed man spoke frankly. “Don’t waste your time. I can’t sit in a chair. You’ve dragged me here, now say what you want or take me back.”

  Vorne stomped. “You’re a stargazer aren’t you?”

  “Was a stargazer. A lifetime ago.”

  “That’ll have to do,” said Trey. “I need your help.”

  “We need your help,” corrected Vorne.

  The gazer appeared indignant. “The rebels?”

  Trey lowered. “No, this isn’t about the rebellion. It’s about finding the women who were stolen.”

  The gruff man stepped forward. “What’s this? I wasn’t told anything about this.”

  Vorne looked up unapologetically. “I didn’t lie when I said the stargazer could change everything. What the kid said is true. They’re alive and he knows where.”

  The gazer’s eyes widened, examining Trey’s face in horror. “A boy! What have you done? You’ve doomed us all by bringing him here.”

  “Help us then,” said Trey. “Or we die for nothing.”

  “I can’t help you. It’s been too long.”

  “Try! At least try!”

  Trey began his projection, hoping the gazer would accept the invitation, but the man refused, closing his eyes and defiantly turning away.

  An electronic whiz announced something powerful coming to life, a weapon no doubt.

  The gruff man growled like an angry bear. “Look at the damn boy.”

  The gazer complied. “Fine, but don’t kill me if I’m no help.”

  “Ha! No need. We’ll all be dead soon with that beacon the boy is blaring.”

  Trey tensed, his back to the door. A mob of angry aliens might pounce him at any moment. He steadied his nerves and continued his starry message. The gazer latched onto his stare and went rigid in concentration.

  Trey’s message replayed unconsciously like a song heard a thousand times, each note familiar. His thoughts wandered easily, without losing the melody or a single lyric. Face-to-face with a complete stranger, it was impossible to ignore every deep pore of the man’s face and every red streak in the whites of his huge, blue eyes.

  Trey’s thoughts turned to the candlelit bedroom and the two men lurking over his shoulder. Did Vorne have a plan to get them all out this room, out of this building, out of this city?

  The message reached its end and began again with no effort. The gazer’s face grew weary, his lips drawn to frown, his brow pulled together.

  He spoke without warning. “It’s no use. It’s been too long. You need to find Solan or Donteya. Maybe they can help you.”

  Vorne stepped closer. “No! This is all on you. Right here. Right now.”

  The man cowered helplessly. “It’s just . . . it doesn’t make sense.” He looked to Trey. “Are you sure you’re showing it correctly.”

  Trey let the projected image dissolve from his mind. “No! I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. But that’s what I saw.”

  “Fine! Fine. Begin again.”

  “Wait,” said Trey. “I should refresh my memory.”

  “Be quick about it,” snapped Vorne.

  Trey blew out the mounting tension and forced his thoughts into a tiny box, freeing his receptors for the incoming message. The dark room faded easily, but the starry universe didn’t appear. His messenger lay on her bed, alone in her sunlit room. A light breeze drifted through the open window, ruffling the sheer curtains.

  Trey bitterly cursed the poor timing.

  His vision crashed back to the dark reality. “You’ll have to figure it out as is.”

  “Back up the sequence. This means nothing to me unless I understand the beginning.”

  Trey blinked several times involuntarily, knowing he shouldn’t. He resumed the message from the beginning.

  “No,” said the gazer. “Not there. The beginning.”

  “That is the beginning.”

  “No, it isn’t. Start from the middle then.”

  Trey struggled to comprehend the duration of his message and vaguely began somewhere between what he’d considered the beginning and the end.

  “You’ve passed it. Back up.”

  Trey rewound in small sequences until the gazer finally announced, “There . . . now, repeat that sequence. And keep repeating it.”

  Voices began to penetrate the thin drapery door. One of the dark silhouettes rushed from the room. His gruff voice bellowed through the hallway. “Get back in your grubby rooms and mind your own business.”

  The gazer ran his fingers through white hair. “I can’t be sure. I need a moment to explore my memories.”

  Trey remained still, his message continuing to loop.

  The gazer rubbed his temples. Seconds later, his eyes flashed open to latch onto Trey’s gaze once again.

  “Yes . . . yes . . . I think I’m right.” The man’s voice hinted at enthusiasm. “Let the message continue, all the way through.”

  Trey happily obliged, sensing an eminent breakthrough. Vorne took a knee, perhaps hoping the same.

  “Yes . . . that’s it.” The gazer broke away, waving his hand. “That’s enough. Look at me. Look at me.”

  Trey watched the sparkle in the man’s eyes engulf the room in a revolving universe of stars. Through the virtual cosmos the gazer’s voice narrated the scene. “See these hazy stars? Here and here."

  Two dull points of light danced for attention.

  Trey spoke, his own voice oddly removed from the scene. “Yes, I see them.”

  “Those aren’t stars. They’re galaxies. And like the compass on a map, they’re the key to orienting the whole message.”

  The universe whirled into motion, drawing the stars away at high speed until the entire Milky Way was visible before Trey’s eyes. A tiny star within the spiraled galaxy flared momentarily, outshining all others with pinpoint precision. “That is the system you seek, the one with three orbiting planets.” In a nearby branch, another star blazed white-hot. “Kryo circles our sun here.” At the far extremity of the galaxy, a third star flickered brightly. “Your home is here.”

  At dizzying speed, the galaxy rushed forward. In an instant, Trey floated just above the swirling gray clouds of a dark planet he could only guess was Kryo. A distant sun blazed like a tiny, blue hole in the sky. A milky-white moon loomed at the edge of the horizon, streaked with jet black trails.

  Attention was diverted to a twinkling constellation.

  “This is Baashza,” said the gazer, “the Great Black Leopard. At forty-five degrees from his back lies the dim star you claim is home to the captives.”

  Vorne pushed forward peer into the scene.

  Trey scooted away, dazed. The weight of a planet had been lifted from his shoulders. The women’s fate now rested on the backs of the rebellion.

  The reality of his candlelit surroundings hit him like an ice bath. He was in hostile territory behind enemy lines. He had no weapon. And now, he had no leverage. Any reason to keep him alive had evaporated.

  Vorne pulled away from the stargazer. His eyes turned to Trey, filled with comprehension. “Come on, kid. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  They leapt to their feet and broke for the door.

  “What about me?” cried the crippled man on the floor. “You can’t just leave me.”

  Vorne stood frozen in consideration, his hand on the drapes, ready to dash. His face said it all. The man would only slow them down.

  “We can’t just leave him,” said Trey.

  When Vorne didn’t budge, Trey dropped to the floor and feebly attempt
ed the scoop the stargazer into his arms. Vorne tried to pull him away, but Trey batted at the soldier’s arms. The gazer, like himself, had done his duty and had nothing left to offer.

  Vorne shoved Trey aside with a heavy blow. He yanked the paralyzed man from the floor by the arms and flopped him onto his back, piggyback style.

  Trey scrambled to his feet. Within seconds he blew through the drapery doorway into the hallways. Men stood agape, staring in dismay as Vorne trotted past them with a man clinging to his neck and a teenage boy bringing up the rear.

  At the end of the long corridor, Vorne stopped cold. Trey crashed into the stargazer’s backside.

  A score of naked aliens emerged from the dark stairwell. Trey backed away in horror, then turned to sprint in the opposite direction.

  The men lining the halls stepped aside, allowing him to pass, yet offering no assistance. He glanced over his shoulder to see Vorne trotting after him. The soldier was fast, but with a rider his on back, he steadily fell behind.

  Aliens poured from the opposite stairwell, pinning Trey in the passage with nowhere to run. He skidded to a stop and fanned his head in both directions. Aliens stormed from each side.

  Vorne dropped the stargazer and braced for a fight.

  Without warning, the men in the corridor sprang to life, swarming the onslaught of aliens. Blasts of energy erupted. Men dropped. Others took their places. Vorne rushed into the brawl, leaping and dodging like a Heisman trophy winner.

  A gap appeared amid the fray of writhing arms and legs, and Trey broke for it. He bounced off the hips of tangled men to emerge on the other side of the fight. Ahead of him, Vorne dashed away untouched.

  A lightning bolt struck Trey squarely between his shoulder blades, knocking him flat on his face. Unable to move, he lay sprawled on the floor, his cheek pressed to concrete. In the distance, Vorne stopped and turned to look back. A second later, he darted off, disappearing into the stairwell.

  Separated

  TREY STOOD BOUND to a wall in utter darkness, his arms spread wide, held in place by hard steel shackles. The memory of being slung over an alien’s shoulder like a sandbag, paralyzed and disoriented, seemed a nightmare that had never actually happened. But the metal bands digging into his wrists and the pain coursing through his extremities were frighteningly real.