Science Fiction and Fantasy Box Set 1: The Squishies Series

by Claire Chilton

  He scowled and clenched his jaw muscles for a moment. “No, only the proper scientists go in that way,” he eventually said. “The rest of us go this way.” He turned on his heel and stormed ahead of her, muttering again about being unappreciated.

  She rolled her eyes and followed him down the dirt track, thinking he was like a child who kept spitting out its dummy.

  If your job sucks, get a new one already.

  The path was dark, due to the massive fir trees towering above them and blocking out the sun’s rays. When she strayed off the dirt track, her feet sunk into the soft earth. It was as if no one else had ever walked anywhere but on the muddy track. As they walked deeper, the daylight disappeared behind the skyline of trees.

  They walked for a while until they reached a small clearing, which strangely had a signpost in the center of it. The ground was especially muddy in the clearing and looked as if it was walked on quite often because no grass grew in the center of it. She stood in the middle of the clearing and peered down. It was weird that no grass grew here.

  She glanced up and examined the signpost. It had one arrow on it pointing downwards. There were no other words or markings to indicate what the arrow meant.

  She turned to peer at Parklon when he reached up for the arrow. He had to jump to push the arrow up, but then he was a bit on the short side.

  I’m sure a real man could reach it.

  He suddenly turned around, grabbed her around the waist and pulled her close to him.

  She gasped, contemplating slapping him for inappropriate touching when a glass pod shot up through the earth in the spot where she had been standing, and lumps of disrupted mud flew off it. She breathed a sigh as she leaned against Parklon’s chest, relieved to have been yanked out of harm’s way.

  The pod wobbled as it balanced itself on the uneven ground. Then a curved glass door slid open in the front of it with a whooshing sound.

  “Welcome to the Bounce and Squelch Express Lift. Please mind the doors.” A metallic voice echoed from inside the pod.

  She stared at the pod in wide-eyed amazement as Parklon released his hold on her waist and motioned for her to go into the pod. It was oval-shaped and large enough to fit five people inside, if they had rather small heads.

  She peered inside the doors of the strange contraption before stepping into it and wondering how it worked.

  He followed her into the pod and pressed the button for floor minus-fifty-eight.

  “This is how the technicians get to work,” he said.

  “It’s kinda weird,” she muttered as she looked around the clearing through the curved glass of the pod.

  “You’re not wrong,” he muttered as the pod dropped like a stone. She felt her stomach hit the ceiling and stay up there as her legs turned to jelly.

  The pod plummeted through the layers of earth below it, and then suddenly the view changed from dark earth to brightly-lit offices with people milling about inside.

  Carla saw each level in an instant as the pod dropped by them. Levels of laboratories and corporate offices bustled with people of all colors wearing suits, lab coats or protective clothing.

  The pod dropped through machinery rooms, which had massive steel rotors and carbines in them and barely any people at all. All the rooms of the massive complex were viewed through green tinted glass.

  Who knew Derobmi had so much going on underneath it, she thought. Who knew motion sickness could happen so quickly.

  Then—as suddenly as the journey under Derobmi had begun—with a loud squelchy noise, the pod hit something soft and came to an abrupt halt.

  Her legs buckled with the impact, and she hit the floor as the pod bounced up and down before finally stopping.

  Parklon leaned over and helped her to her feet as the doors opened to reveal a suspended walkway into a laboratory, which was encased in green-tinted glass.

  “It happens to everyone the first time they hit the Squelch,” he said, offering a reassuring smile.

  “The Squelch?” she asked as they walked through the open pod doorway to the metallic sound of: “Please mind the doors.”

  He pointed behind them to what could only be described as a huge wet sponge on a mechanical soap dish that shot out to catch the glass pod. The glass pod was held in a glass tube, which was what gave the entire complex a green tint from inside the pod.

  She felt queasy when she looked down. The green-tinted tube went all the way down through the center of the complex, and the complex seemed to go down forever.

  She studied the strange transportation contraption and realized that a massive spring catapulted the pod up and a wet sponge caught it when it came down. She watched in awe as the spring came up through the center of the sponge and shot the pod up to whoever had called it.

  “Come on, it’s a fair walk from here to the archives,” Parklon said as he walked away from the pod.

  “Oh, okay.” She hurried after him, glancing back at the weird elevator. “Why do they call it the Bounce and Squelch? Where’s the bounce bit?” She pointed to the now empty glass tube, where the pod had once been.

  “Who knows?” He shrugged. “It should be called the Squelch and Puke if you ask me.”

  “I see your point.” She nodded as they passed a mirrored wall, and she saw her reflection. Her lilac face was looking a bit green.

  They walked through a grimy laboratory, which held several ancient pieces of machinery and scientific tools littered on the surfaces. Although it looked old and ropey, it also looked well taken care of, but the majority of repairs appeared to have been made with tape.

  “Welcome to my office,” he said, sounding less than impressed by his workspace.

  “It’s er, lovely,” she muttered, receiving a moody glance from Parklon that could only be described as unimpressed.

  They turned left out of one of the doors in the laboratory and entered a long corridor, which was home to over a hundred more doors on both sides of it, each leading to lord knows where. She wanted to explore inside every door, but managed to contain herself and followed Parklon down the corridor at his hurried pace.

  At the beginning of their walk down the endless corridor, it had been well-lit and sparklingly clean with new doors adorned with shiny handles and plaques on them, naming the department behind the doors and the number of the room. But the further down the corridor and deeper into the Scientific Institute that they went, the dimmer the lighting got, and the corridor appeared to get shabbier.

  The doors were old and dusty, the handles marred with rust and the doors had no plaques or numbers on them. The carpet was worn and ragged with ancient marks and stains on it, and the walls were no longer a pristine white, but a peeling and aging yellow.

  “Is it just me, or is this corridor getting older?” she asked.

  “Well, it’s just the archives,” he said. “No one important ever comes down here.” He looked annoyed. “They only bother with the places people see,” he said. “That’s this colony’s problem.”

  “I never knew that. I thought everywhere was clean.”

  “Well, that’s what the government would like you to think.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “They just cover up what they don’t like.”

  She pondered this new discovery. It was a week of new discoveries. Huge hidden science buildings, bars full of immigrants and dark and dingy corners underneath the colony that she had once thought was so clean and boring. It was a nice feeling, realizing that she didn’t know everything. The unusual was an adventure waiting to be revealed.

  “The world’s a funny place,” she mumbled.

  He smiled for the first time. “It certainly keeps things interesting.” He winked. “Okay, here are the archives.” He stopped in front of a solid oak door with no markings on it except for a big A-Z scratched into the wood.

  The door didn’t creak as she expected it to when he pushed it open, but it did nearly fall off its hinges when it opened onto a vast room, which appeared to stretch on for miles
.

  She frowned through the doorway. The archives were made up of rows and rows of stand-alone shelving units that reached up to the forty-foot ceiling and were brimming with boxes, filing cabinets and a treasure trove of random objects bursting from every shelf.

  She stepped into the room and looked around in awe. It was like a dusty, yellowing grotto of junk.

  She barely noticed Parklon enter the room behind her as she stepped across the scratched, wooden floorboards and stared at the vast amount of dusty books and folders lining the aging yellow walls on ancient bookshelves, which reached from floor to ceiling.

  “Blimey, how do you find anything in here?” she asked, turning around and staring wide-eyed at the vast grotto of junk.

  Parklon examined the room with a shrug. “Blind luck?”

  She turned to face him. He appeared worried as he shot her a warning glance.

  “Look, what you find out today might be a bit upsetting.” She detected a note of pity in his expression.

  “More upsetting than an early death?” she asked.

  His eyes widened with surprise. “Well no, that’s probably the worst bit,” he admitted.

  “Okay then, let’s go do some reading.” She flashed him a cheerful smile. She really wasn’t worried over her impending doom. She didn’t believe in prophecies or early death warnings and had no fear of what she might discover.

  Parklon stared at her for a moment as if she was crazy before he shrugged and led her down one of the aisles of shelves.

  She cautiously glanced up at the shelves. They were stacked far too high in a haphazard manner. As they began what was beginning to look like a mile hike down the aisle, she saw a box on the top of the pile up wobble.

  “You know, one false move, and I envisage an early death by filing in my future,” she muttered.

  Parklon looked up for a moment. “I think the dust set like concrete years ago, making the filing stable,” he said.

  She wasn’t entirely sure if he was joking or not. She tried not to make any vibrations, just in case, as she followed him into the aisle marked ‘Substances’.

  He’s all right really, she thought as she stared at his back while she followed him silently. It was quite a nice view of his back in a tight t-shirt and jeans, and he had nicely muscled shoulders.

  He glanced back with a puzzled expression on his face, and then he peered at a box on a shelf near her head, which was marked ‘Intoxicating Substances’.

  Aww, look how cute he looks when he worries. She smiled as he grabbed her hand and pulled her down the aisle until they were about twenty-meters away from the Substances section.

  She gasped for air. “Wha … what?” She panted and stared at him.

  He pointed back to the box of Intoxicating Substances. On the end of it was the word ‘Zoremones’.

  “Ohh.” She let go of his hand. “Do they affect you too, then?” she asked.

  “No,” he said. “It’s just you get this dopey look on your face when you’re near them.”

  She scowled at him.

  “You’re … just …” She found it hard to choose the right word without swearing. “Charming, aren’t you?” she finally snapped.

  He flashed a wicked grin.

  She narrowed her eyes.

  “Come on,” he said, motioning for her to follow him.

  She stamped ahead of him and his stupid back. “Fine with me,” she snapped. She was still annoyed and knew that she had no idea where she was going, but the stupid Zoremone thing was getting on her nerves now.

  Why can’t I control it?

  It didn’t help that blue-boy was grinning about her dilemma. I mean, she was … her thoughts came to an abrupt halt. She didn’t know what she was.

  They finally reached the end of the aisle and stopped at a small reading area. Four ancient oak tables with matching benches were squashed into the very end of the room. On the first table—and stacked in a haphazard manner—were an array of books, which varied in size, style and color.

  She automatically perused the titles, spurred on by her natural interest in books. Titles like ‘Rhecknaw: a History’, ‘The Curse of a Queen’ and ‘The Last Warrior’, were just some of the titles on the table.

  She peered back at Parklon.

  “That’s all I could find,” he said, watching her with concern on his face again. “I’ll leave you to read them and get us a coffee.”

  He looked uncomfortable being near her as he turned and walked through a small doorway on the left wall, into a tiny kitchen.

  She sat down with ‘Rhecknaw: a History’ and thoughtfully ran her fingers down the spine of the purple cover.

  “So this is who I am,” she said to herself, and then began reading.

  The book was written by a Derobmi called Willard Jones, who had attempted to make an anthropological study of Rhecknaw.

  Carla could tell from the first paragraph that Willard was not impressed with the cleanliness of the purple colony, although he did rate it highly in comparison with the Zoolaf colony.

  His study began with a description of the originally female-run colony, which made Carla smile.

  It was founded by women.

  He commented on the females ‘special powers’ and her smile became a fully-fledged grin.

  Parklon came back over carrying a cup of coffee while she was reveling in the ‘special powers’ of the average Rhecknaw female.

  She glanced up to see him peering at her with a raised eyebrow.

  “Got to the special powers bit, did you?” he asked, shaking his head.

  She nodded, still grinning. “Yep,” she said, and then frowned. “But it doesn’t say what kind of powers.”

  “Read on, you’ll find out.” He attempted to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace, and he dashed off to the kitchen again.

  She wasn’t entirely convinced he was sane as she watched him miss the door and walk into the wall.

  She shook her head and shrugged before continuing reading.

  It just kept getting better. Certain women in Rhecknaw had special powers, all of them connected to emotions. It was a genetic trait. Many Rhecknaw females had a supernatural power with no hereditary line or blood type dictating who got what power. The powers were a random mystery to those both in and out of Rhecknaw.

  Some of the women could fly, some could conduct electricity and harness it, others could turn completely transparent and some were invincible.

  Carla wondered how an invincible person could die young. She also wondered what her special power was.

  Overt sarcasm or perhaps chaos?

  Although, the books didn’t say every Rhecknaw female had a special power, so maybe she didn’t have any at all.

  The book also said the powers showed themselves on the cusp of adulthood, so maybe if she had some they would show up in a few years.

  As time whiled away, her mind drifted to thoughts of Joe.

  Willard’s constant references to the cleaning in Rhecknaw bored her. She yawned and flipped through a few pages looking for anything interesting in them.

  She stopped as the words; “then the life is sucked out of the female, and very few survive,” flashed in front of her eyes. She momentarily froze as she stared at the sentence. She went back to the chapter about Rhecknaw mating rituals and frowned while reading it.

  AS THEIR POWERS BEGIN, SO DO THE EFFECTS OF ZOREMONES. RHECKNAW WOMEN LOSE ALL CONTROL AGAINST THE ZOREMONES OF A RHECKNAW MALE AND THEIR POWERS APPEAR TO BE CONNECTED TO THEIR EMOTIONS AND LIFE-FORCE.

  THE EMOTIONAL CONTACT DRAINS BOTH THE FEMALE’S SPECIAL POWERS AND HER ABILITY TO SURVIVE, PASSING THEM ON TO THE MALE OF THE SPECIES. VERY FEW FEMALES SURVIVE THE PROCESS, AND THOSE THAT DO REMAIN IN A WEAKENED STATE UNTIL THE END OF THEIR DAYS.

  THE MALES, HOWEVER, FLOURISH AND GROW MORE POWERFUL FROM THE PROCESS.

  THE COLONY HAS HAD MANY WARS BETWEEN THE SEXES. HOWEVER, THE FEMALES INEVITABLY LOSE WHEN THE BATTLEGROUND BECOMES A ROMANTIC COUPLING.


  THERE ARE RUMORS OF A SMALL BAND OF FEMALE REBELS WHO SIMPLY AVOID THE MALES AND HAVE A SECRET COLONY OF THEIR OWN. HOWEVER, THEY ARE POSSIBLY AN URBAN MYTH, BECAUSE NO ONE HAS EVER SEEN THEM.

  Carla stared at the text, horrified. How could this Willard be so emotionless about such an awful colony?

  She continued reading, disgusted by the cold reporting of such a horrific ritual.

  THE PROCESS OF TRANSFERRING POWERS BEGINS LIKE MOST MATING RITUALS. THE SEXES MEET, AND THE MALE MUST IMPRESS THE FEMALE. HOWEVER, ONCE THE ZOREMONES BEGIN TO TAKE EFFECT, THE FEMALE LOSES ALL ABILITY FOR RATIONAL THOUGHT AND BECOMES LOST IN A HIGHLY-VOLATILE EMOTIONAL STATE.

  AS THE FEMALE WEAKENS, THE MALE ADVANCES UNTIL SHE ADMITS DEFEAT. THEN HE LOSES INTEREST IN HER, WHICH MAKES HER EMOTIONS EVEN MORE VOLATILE. IT IS AT THIS STAGE THAT THE POWERS BEGIN TO TRANSFER TO THE MALE, AND THEN THE LIFE-FORCE IS SUCKED OUT OF THE FEMALE, AND VERY FEW SURVIVE.

  IN SOME OF THE MORE TRADITIONAL REGIONS OF THE COLONY, THIS PROCESS IS CALLED ‘THE BLOOMING’, WHERE THE MALE AND FEMALE WILL BE PARADED IN A TRADITIONAL CEREMONY IN PUBLIC AND SURROUNDED BY THEIR FRIENDS AND FAMILIES.

  IN OTHER AREAS OF THE COLONY, ‘THE BLOOMING’ IS OUTLAWED DUE TO PROTESTS ABOUT ITS DEPRAVITY. BUT A TRADITION THAT SPANS HUNDREDS OF YEARS CANNOT BE BANNED SO EASILY, ESPECIALLY WHEN MEMBERS OF THE CURRENT GOVERNMENT STILL PRACTICE IT.

  Carla slammed the book shut and stared at it.

  What an evil place!

  She was sorry she’d ever heard of it now. She peered at the title of the next book, ‘Rhecknaw Book of Biology and Medicine’, but chose to ignore it.

  She’d always thought she was a Derobmi with a skin condition. She couldn’t possibly be one of those poor women. It was crazy to even think that her mother wasn’t her mother or that Joe wasn’t her brother. Mind you, she’d never really felt like calling Herb her dad.

  She shook her head. How could she be from another colony, and how could she be from such a horrifically nasty place as that? She just couldn’t be!