by Peter Telep
The masks have formed a ring around the queen robe. As if on cue, they all fire bolts linking into a web that surrounds and traps the robe inside.
With eyes still radiating with energy, they float toward the shaft in the ceiling, transporting the robe up, through the hole they’ve burrowed, and away…
“We have to do something!” I shout as Cypress releases my wrist, and I chase after her.
We reach the greenhouse and elbow our way through the maze of branches.
Cypress slows and finally stops. She lowers her head and stands there, breathing, with her back to me.
“What are we doing?” I holler.
She jerks around and screams, “Shut up, Doke!”
A tear slips from her brown eye.
“Cypress, please…”
“Doesn’t matter. We couldn’t help Mum. We failed. And now… there’s nothing we can do.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Cypress and I take a narrow elevator that I assume leads to the surface. We ride in silence. I guess there’s no engine to jump back, and when the elevator doors open, Cypress helps us dig through layers of vines toward brighter light.
We emerge on the muddy shoreline of a turquoise river about fifty feet wide.
On the opposite shore, trees shaped like claws and draped in translucent green stuff similar to seaweed lean over the water, casting eerie shadows.
The water itself is alive with tiny things. I won’t call them fish. Many seem oddly geometric: triangles, circles, and squares, both fleshy things and small personas.
I turn back, where the elevator doors lie hidden within a hump of vines, shrubs, and ragged lines of flowers whose petals remind me of bananas. I wonder if they’re like the poets back home that reflect our emotional state.
Cypress grabs my wrist before I can touch one. “You’re poison to them.”
“Sorry. We have to get back.”
“Yes, but we’re very far from Grrethos.”
“We’re in another place,” I say.
“This realm is Hornryth. Maybe more assassins here. No way to jump back.”
“The grren can help us.”
She frowns. “Most grren don’t like woven. They see my hair. They smell me. I’m not right. They hate how I got made. They killed my parents.”
I glance up the river, which flows beneath the thick tree cover and reminds me of Central Florida. Maybe we could keep to the shoreline and be safe.
“It’ll take us a while to walk back,” I tell Cypress.
She growls like a grren. “Many days.”
“Well, I don’t know how long a day is here, but either way, I don’t have ‘many days.’”
“I know this,” she says.
“So, okay, you’ve got creatures here that fly, like maybe dragons or something. We’ll connect and hitch a ride.”
“Impossible,” she says. “Some fliers, yes, but they don’t like Halsparrans or woven.”
I throw up my hands and snort. “So what kind of a lame ass planet is this?”
She hisses a reply.
But I won’t give up. “All right, the Halsparrans have more choppers,” I remind her, clutching imaginary handlebars.
“Yes. And many syncarr and other weapons. They won’t help us. They’ll kill us.”
“Okay, so there’s an old car or an airplane buried in some farmhouse under a mountain. And we can dig it out and use it to get home. Maybe it’s solar powered, which is a big deal on Flora. We just charge up the batteries and get rolling.”
“Doke, there’s nothing. Just legs.”
I curse and look around helplessly.
“Just legs,” she repeats.
“Hey, let’s see if Mum’s got anything.”
Cypress reluctantly projects Mum, whose lips tighten as she realizes where we are.
“You’ve quite a dilemma,” she says.
“Uh, yeah, no kidding,” I say. “So Mum, you said you didn’t choose me, that I chose you. Well, I’m not sure what that means, but right now I’m definitely choosing you to help us, okay?”
“I wish I could.”
“Why did I know you were going to say that? Wait. Don’t answer. Just… look, here’s where we’re at: the Galleons have the queen robe, and I need to get back home to Flora—and I need to take Cypress with me. Or wait… what am I saying? I don’t need to get back. It’s all over, right?”
“Doke, you’re confusing,” Cypress says. “And I told you, I’m not going.”
“Neither am I,” I tell her. “Because my grandmother said if the Galleons got a queen robe, we wouldn’t be able to stop them. So that’s it. They’re going to Earth. We’re done.”
“It’s my fault, too,” says Mum. “I should’ve sensed their attack before the alarms when off, but I didn’t, because I think they’re evolving, getting stronger.”
“I think so, too,” I say. “When we joined the healing wreath over Flora, we felt them breaking through.”
“I understand,” she says. “But it’s not over yet.”
“What do you mean?”
“The robes aren’t things, Doc. They’re life forms just like us. They’re vulnerable to threats and fear and intimidation. Also, when they die, their energy is converted, which to them is like going to Heaven—but they need to believe that the sacrifice is worth it.”
“So my grandmother convinced that robe she wore back at the lab to give its life for us,” I say.
“That’s right,” Mum answers. “She wore it and connected with it. Self-sacrifice is a trait found throughout the seed worlds.”
“So the Galleons want the robes as weapons, which I’m guessing are more powerful than what they already have.”
“I believe they want the robes to protect the Armadis, and if the queen robe helps them, then your grandmother’s right: there’s nothing we can do stop them.”
“How long does it take to grow these robes?” I ask.
“Under the right conditions, I estimate about forty-eight hours Earth time, maybe a little longer.”
“How much longer?” I ask.
“There could be another delay as they negotiate with the queen robe, but I wouldn’t count on it. Also, I would expect them to make another stop at Flora.”
“Oh, no, really?”
“Yes,” she answers. “They’ll try to abduct anyone they can who’s still vulnerable. They still need to rebuild their ship.” Mum’s tone grows even more serious. “Doc, we must destroy the Armadis, and when we do, you should know that your friend Julie will be lost forever.”
“Julie’s the one who saved my life,” Cypress says, placing a palm on her chest.
“And mine,” I say, already choking up but fighting it. “I understand, Mum.”
“No, you don’t,” Mum says with a gaze that burns into me. “You’re still thinking of ways to save her.”
“So what if I am? She’s my friend.”
“She can never return to her body,” Mum says.
“I know that.”
“Then you also know that the masks draw life from the Armadis. As it weakens, so do they. If the Armadis became a different form of energy, they would convert as well.”
“I get that, but can she ever get away?”
“I’m not sure.”
“But if she could, then maybe…”
“You know what I’m going to say, Doc.”
“Yeah. We need to take out the Armadis. No matter what.”
She nods.
I look away and stare at the water.
I keep telling myself that Julie chose to go with Solomon back to Flora. She willingly became a Mask of Galleon—
But that’s because her father lied to her.
So part of me wants to let her go. She brought this on herself, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I shouldn’t feel guilty. Yes, she’s my friend, and it’s all very tragic, but I need to move on, no matter how much it hurts.
However, this is Julie we’re talking about. All she wanted to
do was help everyone on Flora. And I can see how easy it was for Solomon to trick her. She once told me she wished my dad was hers. Who knows? Maybe she wanted a father so badly that it was easy to overlook Solomon’s flaws. Nobody’s perfect, right? And now I should do everything I can to save her—because she never gave up on me. She protected me for my entire life.
But what about everyone else? The ivies, the rumms, Joshua’s caravan, and even the despers and nomads?
Plus, everyone back on Earth, like my old middle school buddies Ira Drazen and Ricardo Hernandez, and my old teachers, and even the bullies who stole my Darth Vader notebook—
Because none of them deserves to become a slave, right?
Can you imagine all of them having their chests ripped open, synthetic wreaths shoved inside, and then being forced to project their personas and become part of the Galleons’ ship? They’d spend the rest of the lives in those tubes, slowly shriveling away until the Galleons flushed them into space and replaced them with fresh meat.
Years ago, after spending an entire Sunday watching old WWII movies with Tommy, he told me that one day I’d figure out my higher calling—something more important than myself, something that would define who I was and how I should live my life.
“What’s yours?” I asked.
“Son, are you kidding me? Serving my country. Protecting people. Protecting freedom.”
“Yeah, I get it.”
“What I’m saying is, you can’t go through your life playing games and eatin’ nachos with all this damned cheese on them. You ain’t meant to live an ordinary life, and I want you to be ready for that.”
“So wear clean underwear,” I told him with a grin. “That’s what Mom says.”
“Skivvies are important. But I want you to remember one thing. When you get that call, you answer it.”
“Okay, whatever.”
Honestly, I didn’t know what he was saying. I figured it was the beer talking.
But now, as I stand here on this riverbank and look at Mum, I realize this is what Tommy was trying to tell me.
I got me a higher calling—
One that’s more important than my life… or Julie’s.
And maybe this is what Mum means when she says I chose them.
I narrow my gaze on her. “We have to get back to the engine. Can you help us?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Tommy has drawn the blinds in the living room, and now he, Keane, and my grandmother’s immortal hover over the computer terminal. Meanwhile, the engine’s wreath-shaped portal crackles, spits light, and literally burps like it’s drunk.
“Maybe the cannons are misaligned,” Tommy hollers over the racket.
Ah, yes, more great news.
Meanwhile, I finish telling Meeka and Steffanie all about my happy adventures on Halsparr, and they, along with Hedera, widen their eyes and shake their heads.
“You need to get Cypress to Flora,” Meeka says.
“Uh, yeah? I’m all over that,” I tell her.
Hedera projects her persona, and her floating head casts warm light over my icy cold face. “Doc, you have to find out why she wants to stay there so badly.”
“I know, right? She’s lives in a dump. I told her she can take the grren.”
“She’s hiding something,” Steffanie says. “And you need to find out what it is. Then you can use it to get her to come.”
“I won’t lie or trick her.”
Meeka’s tone hardens. “Do what it takes.”
I smirk.
“I’m serious, Doc.”
“Okay, whatever.” I face Hedera. “So… you like Earth? Sucks, right?”
She grins. “Well, I haven’t seen much, but TV is awesome. Still, I feel like nobody does anything here. You just eat and play on your phones.”
“Pretty much. I mean people do work and go to school, but even while they’re there, they just post crap on social media all day.”
“He’s exaggerating,” Steffanie says.
“Not really,” I say.
“I want to see the sunrise,” Hedera says.
“Let’s hope we’re not here that long,” I tell her, tightening my lips.
“I know, Doc. And thanks for letting me be here.”
“Whoa,” comes a cry from near the engine.
It’s Tommy. He shoots up from his seat and clutches his chest again. “Hot damn,” he says.
“What is it?” Meeka asks.
Tommy bares his teeth in pain. “Feeling weird.”
“But we just gave you some Wrrambien,” she reminds him. “You should be good for a while.”
“I don’t know… maybe this wreath ain’t reacting the same as yours.” He groans louder. “And something seems different now.”
“Like what?” she asks.
Tommy bites his lips. He staggers toward the center of the living room, eyes widening in fear, like he’s about to die.
“What is it?” I demand, beginning to panic.
“Dunno, son. Just feels like… something wants to come out of me.”
He closes his eyes and projects his persona.
But it’s not him.
Everyone gasps—
And I’m still cursing in awe as the persona faces us and smiles…
“Sun, water, sand,” she says, lifting her goggles, her gaze shifting around the room. Her greeting means she’s “glad to enjoy life with us.”
She’s about Tommy’s age, and her gray hair is still braided in a ponytail, her bluish green eyes just as bright as I remember them. The hard face seems a little softer, though, beneath her persona’s glistening aura.
Meeka and Steffanie rush up and hug Val tightly, already weeping with joy.
When they were little, Doctor Valaria took them in at the hospital and saved their lives after the withering. She’s their foster mother and best friend—
And she died because of me, because I stayed too long at that art museum, where the despers captured Julie and me. If Tommy and the others hadn’t been forced to rescue us, that sniper would’ve never put a bullet in Val’s wreath… and she would’ve never died in Tommy’s arms.
But as far as we knew, she didn’t give her immortal to anyone. She couldn’t. Tommy was the only one there, and he’s a human…
“How is this possible?” Meeka asks Val.
“I’m not sure. But I remember wanting so badly to give him my immortal, so I just did, even though I knew he could never unlock it.”
“And somehow I knew I had it,” Tommy says. “I’ve never told anyone, but I’ve had dreams about her. They seemed so real. But I just wrote ‘em off, you know? Just dreams. But I guess I felt her. And now imagine that, here she is.”
“This is crazy,” Steffanie says.
“I’m not sure anyone’s ever tried to do this,” Val says. “But it’s so amazing to see you again.”
“And you, too,” Meeka says. “But we need to connect. And we need to get Tommy more Wrrambien. His wreath might be developing a tolerance. You think you can help?”
“I’ll try,” she says. “I’m not sure how much of my medical knowledge I still have, but we’ll find out.”
“Wait,” I say, forcing myself off the sofa and approaching Val. “I never got a chance to tell you—”
“It’s okay, Doc.”
“Please, let me finish. I just want to say, you know, how sorry I am.”
“It’s okay,” she says again.
“No, it’s not. It was all my fault, and I don’t expect you to forgive me. But I didn’t mean it. Really. I didn’t.”
“You already have enough weight on your shoulders. You don’t need me. I made a decision to go with the caravan. I knew the risks. I’ve always known the risks, and I died in the arms of a beautiful man.”
I start to break down. “Thank you.” I cover my eyes and stumble back toward the couch. I’m so weak and emotional that I’m embarrassing myself.
However, my tears do inspire Meeka to put her arm around my shoul
der and hug me.
She’s wearing some expensive perfume she bought at the mall. She must’ve sneaked up into her old room and put some on. I take in a huge breath and then practically fall back on the couch.
“Can this night get any stranger?” she whispers.
“Don’t even go there.”
Meanwhile, Steffanie delivers a rapid-fire update to Val, covering everything that’s happened since her passing.
“I’ve been connected to Tommy’s mind,” Val says. “So I already know a lot, but it’s different coming from you.”
“Oh, damn, okay,” Steffanie says. “So, let’s get Tommy more Wrrambien.”
* * *
“If we had a boat, we could paddle,” I tell Cypress as we head up the shoreline, back to the elevator exit.
“No boat,” she says.
“Okay, but let’s get moving anyway.”
“No. I’m very tired. The eyelo makes me feel weak, and projecting Mum makes me even weaker. We need to rest, otherwise I’ll get sick.”
I throw my hands in the air. “We don’t have time to rest.”
She spins around and grabs my shoulder with one hand and places a finger to her lips with the other.
My shoulders slump. Okay, I’ll be quiet. Doesn’t matter, though. My wreath’s tugging on my persona again, and the ache will kill me before any assassin does.
We slip back into the vines and hunker down, placing our backs against the elevator doors.
“I need you to come with me to Flora,” I whisper.
She puts a palm over my mouth. “No talking.”
I remove the hand. “Just one more thing, I know why you want to stay here.”
Yes, I’m bluffing, but maybe this will get her to tell me.
“You don’t know, Doke,” she whispers. “Now close your eyes, and take a little rest.”
“There’s someone else here, someone you haven’t told me about. I’m not sure why you’re hiding them, but you’re not as alone as you’re saying.”
She snaps open her eyes and snarls. “I am alone! I show you why I stay!” She seizes my hand, and her mind links up so abruptly and so aggressively that it actually hurts.
With a crash of thunder that often happens with a violent connection or jump, she rips me onto a hillside. Down bellow is that pipe leading to her home.
