by Mark Oliver
He slid the balcony closed behind him, looked up to the sky and screamed.
When he walked back into the room, the empty bottle swinging at his side, the aliens, grim-faced and strained, were discussing the Corporation's planned attack against the robundee. On the table three glasses of amber brew lay untouched.
Charlie took a seat, and said, with what he hoped was authority in his voice, "I'm going to stop them before they leave Seenthee space. I won't let them destroy anymore innocent lives."
The red man shook his head. "I'm sorry Charlie. But I made a promise to the rollers to get you home safely."
"I made a promise too. One I intend to keep, with or without your help. Home can wait."
All eyes turned to Brother Yojim. For a long moment he said nothing. The silence grew until it seemed to roar in Charlie's ears. Without the robundee's help unlocking the knowledge hidden inside him, he had little chance going up against the Corporation. He knew that and so did everyone else at the table.
Finally the pathfinder spoke. "I will help you. But only on the condition you hold back until we have finished your training."
Charlie smiled. In a flash he shifted form. He held out a dazzling green hand to the robundee, and said, "It's a deal."
The pathfinder placed his hand beneath the cold burning hand and to Charlie's surprise he felt the rhythmic buzz of electricity.
Brother Yojim smiled, and withdrawing his hand, said, "I almost forgot. I've got something of yours." He walked across the apartment, and into his room.
Charlie met the curious glances of Bei and Awani, and shrugged.
When the robundee stepped out of his room, he had his arms held in front of him. Balanced across them, as if in offering, lay Charlie's surfboard, its curved wooden surface still covered in wax.
The slap rang out across the meeting room. Doctor Sree winced as if he had been the one struck by Chief Lade's blow. Executive Ko turned back to face her superior. Her hands remained fixed to her sides. Blood poured down the side of her face and a dark patch of grey had already begun to blossom on her cheek.
"Forgive me, Sir," she said, her face blank. "I will find him again."
"You'd better," Lade said. "If the news gets out that we kept the discovery of an alien life form under wraps and then let it escape, we all of us are done for. The Corporation has no room for traitors or incompetents."
"I've activated every one of our moles and snitches. They've been told to deal with me and me alone. The moments he resurfaces, I'll know."
The Corporation’s Chief Technology Officer stared at Ko, his eyes boring into her. "You say the alien changed into some glowing creature and slipped through the floor like a ghost?"
Ko nodded.
Lade turned to Doctor Sree. "Why didn't you tell us about this ability of the aliens?3" His words snapped.
The scientist grimaced and in a whining, pleading voice, said, "I had no idea, Sir. In the interrogation the boy gave no indication he was aware of any of his powers, let alone be able to use them. He seemed clueless."
"And yet," Lade said, furious, "just when we had him right where we wanted him, he was suddenly able to pull off his disappearing trick."
"He must be learning somehow," the scientist said.
"Then we better get him under control before he learns how to get back to where he came from, and ruins any hope I have of taking the leadership."
"The drones continue to send me data from the rift site. I am using the findings to build a device that prevents him from using his powers."
"Well," Lade said, "get a move on. I want it ready by the time we find him." He turned his attention back to Executive Ko. "When you locate him, I want the doctor to accompany you on the retrieval mission. This time there can be no mistakes."
Doctor Sree and Executive Ko nodded.
The Chief Technology Officer grunted, and strode towards the door. It slid open. Before he stepped through it, he turned back. "If you can't take him alive, kill him."
Out of the corner of his eye, Doctor Sree caught a glimpse of Ko's rigid face. The more time he spent with her, the more he noticed the almost imperceptible tremors that flashed across her face. Only the trained eye would have seen the tiniest of quivering at the corner of the woman's plastic lips. But Sree caught the movement. She's smiling, he thought.
Charlie woke up groggy, sticky eyed and alone. He had fallen asleep on top of the bedcovers, still dressed in his palace robes. They were soggy with sweat.
A pounding throb worked its way around his head. It felt as if someone had shoved a miniature hedgehog up his nostril and the beast was now roaming the inside of his skull, scratching around for sustenance.
I wasn't even that drunk, he thought and cursed the alien manufacturers of the Robundee Lava.
The last thing he remembered was kissing Awani goodnight. The mood had lightened after the introduction of the surfboard. The three of them excitedly regaled Yojim with the tale of their escape and their meeting with Rayn out in the Pass. The night ended with Charlie enthralling the three aliens with descriptions of his most epic rides and a breakdown of the basics of surfing.
In the harem he had spent his free moments fantasising over Awani. He wanted her and he had sensed throughout the night that she wanted him too. But when it came to inviting her into his room at the end of the night he bailed. With Bei and Yojim watching on, the fear of making a fool of himself won out against his mounting, alcohol fuelled horniness. He walked into his bedrooms alone.
He sat up, and caught a whiff of the pungent odour issuing forth from his armpits. Disgusted with his current state, he looked around the bedroom, hoping to discover an ensuite bathroom or at least a sink. The room was a minimalist's dream. It had a bed, an armchair and a bedside table, on which stood a glass, empty.
Charlie swallowed. His throat was parched. He craved water and a handful of paracetamols. Or even better, he thought, a couple of those Theran pills.
He climbed out of bed, took a few well-placed steps across the swaying floor, breathed in and out, opened the door and walked into the main room.
Immediately, he regretted his decision to leave his bed. Bei had drawn aside the blinds, and the brilliant midday sunshine shone through, sending lightning bolts through Charlie's eyeballs.
He shielded his eyes and moaned. The urge to vomit was overwhelming but somehow he suppressed it.
"I see you're finally up," Bei called from across the room. "Just in time for lunch."
"No food . . . Hangover . . .Pain . . . Tablets." Charlie forced the words out of him. He crossed the rolling floor, keeping his arm raised above his eyes.
"Don't worry Charlie," Awani called from the kitchen. "I've got just the thing."
He turned and squinted. The girl bounded through the kitchen door, dressed in the same hot pants and vest as the night before and carrying a glass of murky liquid.
She placed a hand on his shoulder, and kissed his cheek. "Morning." She smelt like summer fruits.
Charlie tucked his biceps inwards in a vain attempt to quell the flow of body odour leaking out of him. Awani handed him the glass and he reluctantly withdrew an arm. "We've already had ours," she said.
Charlie held up the glass and frowned.
Awani smiled. "It's probably best you drink it in one go."
"What is it?"
"Do you really want to know?"
Charlie shook his head, and brought the rim of the glass to his lips. As he tilted it upwards, something thick and wormlike twisted in the bottom of the glass. He closed his eyes, and swallowed. The sticky fluid glided over his tongue and down his gullet. At one point something rubbery and alive flicked out at the back of his throat. Charlie ignored it and gulped the liquid down. Anything was better than this hangover.
The aftertaste the drink left reminded him simultaneously of a bad case of athlete's foot and a Bounty bar. A sticky residue sealed his lips together. He forced them apart with a bubbling pop. When he spoke, the words came out covered
in slobber, "That was truly disgusting."
Awani laughed.
"Catch," Bei called, and Charlie raised his hand just in time to prevent a flask from smashing into his face. "Finish it all."
By the time he had finished off the sugary liquid inside, Charlie's hangover had melted away. He had to love this planet.
"Now take a shower," Bei said, pointing to a door halfway across the room. "I can smell you from here."
The blue man burst into raucous laughter. And Charlie, his face burning, shuffled towards the bathroom.
"Help yourself to the clothes hanging up in the connecting wardrobe," Bei called after him. "What's mine is yours."
Chapter 22
After lunch, the four made plans for the next few days. Brother Yojim would work with Charlie, preparing him for the task ahead. Bei and Awani would set up a meeting with the resistance, telling them everything. There was so much at risk they needed a contingency plan in place. If the unthinkable occurred and Charlie failed to put the rift engine out of action, they would need to act fast. For once the engine had absorbed the divide energy, there would be no way to stop the destroyer's journey to Poklawi.
Once they had agreed on the course of action to follow, Bei and Awani went out. They needed to track down their resistance contacts to arrange safe voyage to their underground headquarters.
Left alone in the apartment, Brother Yojim sat down with Charlie and over hot cups of spiced juice talked more about the powers held inside him. Charlie, hungry for knowledge, fired out question after question. Deciphering what the hell Brother Yojim was talking about was no small feat. Charlie wished the robundee had brought along a PowerPoint presentation.
Brother Yojim began by explaining Charlie's glowing green form. This was Charlie's divide form adjusted to the physical environment of the Universe. The pathfinder called it the key form. For by taking this form Charlie would be able to tear rifts in the fabric and cross into the Divide.
Yojim explained that though Charlie had always had the ability to shift to key form, it had long lay hidden in the recesses of his mind. His crossing over had tugged at it, easing it forward. But it was his meeting with Rayn out in the Wrake Pass that had really thrust it to the fore. The dream Charlie had had was the final wrench bringing the ability back into conscious control.
As Charlie already knew this key form had its benefits. Nothing physical could harm him when he took this form. He could survive in any conditions. From the heatless, airless darkness of space to the burning heart of a supernova, no place was out of bounds.
Once Charlie had formed a rift and crossed through it, he would take his true divide form. Within the Divide he would be able to travel vast distances in an instant. No part of the great whiteness would lie beyond his reach.
And this meant no part of the Universe would be out of bounds either. For the Divide was at once inside and outside of the Universe, forever lurking unseen beneath its surface. Every point in the Universe had a corresponding point in the Divide. And so the moment Charlie gained full control over his powers, he would be able to enter the Divide, find a desired exit point, and slip though it, returning to the Universe wherever he desired.
"Up until now", Brother Yojim said, "you've had only the most limited control of your key form. Your ingrained sense of up and down, has helped you stay fixed in place, preventing you from slipping through the planet's surface. In the palace you took your fist step when you dropped through the floor to safety."
Charlie stroked his chin. "Right now, when I'm in key form and I try to touch something, my hand passes straight through it. Is that always going to be the way?"
The pathfinder shook his head. "No. Our first aim of training is for you to learn how to perform physical acts in his key form. The Corporation are after you. And when they set their sights on someone they usually get them. You're going to need to protect yourself. If you know how to fight in his key form, they won't be able to hurt you,"
Charlie smiled. "Sounds good."
That evening, dressed in three quarter-length combat trousers, animal hide slippers, and a shirt as soft as sunshine, Charlie sat huddled next to Brother Yojim in the back of a hover buggy. Bei was driving with a callous disregard for safety, whirling the four of them through the Jajag city streets at breakneck speed.
Although Charlie wore no seatbelt, he was not worried. He had no need for one, as the robundee's massive bulk had him locked in place.
Outside the last light of day basked the ruined city in purples and blues. Charlie stared out at the fading light, as Bei sped them towards the Jajag beaches.
Before leaving Bei's apartment block, they had strapped Charlie's surfboard to the top of the buggy. Its pintail now peeked out over the windshield, the fin suspended over the road ahead of them like a guillotine blade.
"I hope you're comfortable back there guys," Awani said leaning over the headrest of the passenger seat. Across her chest hung chunky rifle, brought along in case they ran into bad company.
"I'm fine, thank you," Brother Yojim's boomed.
Charlie, pinned against the door, said nothing. His whole left slide tingled with pins and needles. He continued to stare out of the window, imagining the surf conditions that lay ahead.
The surfing had been Brother Yojm's plan. When he heard Charlie's surf stories the night before, he knew it would be a perfect way for him to train. It was familiar to Charlie, he had said, and incorporated just the right amount of concentration, fear and interaction with the environment he would need to unlock the mysteries buried inside him.
On hearing the robundee's plan, Bei and Awani had decided to stall their departure for the resistance headquarters so they could catch a glimpse of this "surfing".
Charlie turned and looked up at Brother Yojim. The man's bare head pressed into the roof of the buggy but he showed no sign of discomfort.
"How is this going to work?" Charlie asked. "The surfing, I mean."
"I want you to . . . what was it you said? Catch a wave?"
Charlie nodded.
"When you're riding it, I want you to shift to key form. I hypothesize that your concentration will keep you locked in place and allow you to continue physically manoeuvring the board."
"And if I fail?"
"Well, then you'll slip through the water and have to shift back to your usual self." The robundee laughed. "But didn't you say falling into the water was half the fun?"
Charlie said nothing, thinking only of the giant waves he had seen pounding the coastline on his journey from Het City.
"Hopefully by daybreak you'll have learned to interact in your key form. Then we'll come back tomorrow night and work on opening rifts."
Charlie wished he shared the big man's confidence. He sat back in his seat and tried to be positive.
The beach was located on the other side of an abandoned industrial site. They hovered through the deserted zone with Charlie half-expecting a swarm of zombies to come charging out at them. They knocked over a series of rusted fences, and pulled up on the edge of the beach.
Plastic bottles, rubber sandals and the bony remains of several animals littered the sand around them. Pools of fluorescent liquid glowed ominously. Every now and then, cloudy vapours drifted from the abandoned factories and rolled across the black sand, merging with the walls of wave spray coming from the ocean. If Chernobyl had a beach, Charlie reflected, it would probably look this.
He stepped out of the buggy and into the poisonous night air. The lower half of his face lay hidden beneath a breathing mask, its rubber sealing cool against his skin. When he had first placed it against his face, he had been reminded of the cricket box he had worn as a school kid. It had the same undulating shape, and the air flowing through it tasted unpleasantly similar to smell his box had given off after two hours of cricket. But he kept it on, Bei having assured him that he would be coughing blood for days if he removed it.
Freed from his vehicular straight jacket, Charlie stretched his arms above his
head, and arched his back. It resulted in a pleasing series of cracks. He shook his legs to get the blood flowing again.
Awani sidled up next to him. "Are the waves normally meant to be that big?" The breathing mask made her a machine's voice, cold and emotionless.
Charlie looked beyond her. The planet's two moons waxed crescent in the alien sky, basking their soft light over the waves battering the shore. The Gower never got anywhere close to this big. Charlie had only seen waves like this in surf movies.
A narrow piece of land projected from the beach to Charlie's right, forming the perfect point break. Each wave jacked up at the headland and broke, creating a perfect barrel that held for a hundred metres. It was the most perfect wave Charlie had ever seen. Each wave was a replica of its predecessor, as if made by a machine.
He swallowed, his throat dry with excitement, fear and the unmistakable surfer's desire to rip a wave up.
"You're seriously considering going into that?" Bei said, incredulous,
Charlie, full of false bravado, said, "Worse comes to worse I can always shift form." Though he had no idea if he would be able to swim in key form. That very afternoon under Yojim's watchful eyes, he had repeatedly failed to pick up a spoon.
"Come on Charlie," the robundee said, handing him a slip of fabric. "Time to suit up. We've got a lot to get through tonight."
"Yeah," Awani said, "and we want to see you catch a few before we have to leave for the resistance."
Charlie held up the suit. The sea like the air was toxic. He would get more than a nasty rash if he went in bare skinned. So Bei had brought along the turen equivalent of wetsuit.
Charlie looked around the empty beach, and frowned. “Where shall I get changed?”
The three raised eyebrows informed him that he would be changing where he stood. “Okay," he said, "but could you at least all look away for a second?”
Charlie stripped naked. As he slipped his feet into the suit's legs, he grimaced. A sticky residue lined the inside of the suit, ensuring no toxic liquids would pass through any tears in its fabric. The suit, supple and see-through, came right down to his mask.
