The Dreamer Chronicles Trilogy Boxed Set Vol I - III: A Sci-Fi Parallel Universe Adventure (The Dreamer Chronicles - Science Fiction For Kids And Adults)

by Robert Scanlon

  The enormous space was almost empty: a Cessna light plane was parked off to one side, and in the middle was a makeshift meeting table constructed from four trestle-tables arranged in a square, surrounded by plastic chairs.

  Agent Blanchard helped them off the bus. “It’s not exactly the most comfortable, but I guarantee this is as safe as we can get while we wait this out. Please”—he gestured to the table and chairs—“take a seat.”

  Sarina noticed he didn’t say completely safe. Only as safe as we can get. Comforting. She resolved to try her best to be positive. Now wasn’t the time to do anything except focus on their plan. She sat down along with all the others, and their attention fell to the Professor.

  He looked at them all, one-by-one. “If I thought there was another way to do this ...”

  “There’s no one else I’d trust more than you lot, anyway.” Nathan smiled at the Professor and everyone else. “We have to save the world, right? Who better than a mad scientist and his FBI sidekick, a famous loopy young artist, the scientist’s psychic daughter, and me, the world’s most brilliant genius child-prodigy?”

  They all laughed. Sarina caught the sheepish look from Nathan. She knew he didn’t really mean the ‘loopy’ bit ... did he? She was about to tackle him when the door opened again.

  “Hey! I heard that. You forgot about Roller-Woman—the fastest net-thrower in the West!” Rona wheeled herself across the concrete floor as fast as possible, and came to a halt in a perfect 360 next to Sarina and Nathan. She fixed them with a big smile. “So what’s the plan?”

  Sarina’s smile faded. “The Professor and I will make a portal—or rather, Lena, Nathan, you and I will make the portal—and the Professor and I will go through. We have to destroy that machine and stop the moon’s progress. I just hope that—”

  “You’ll be fine, Sarina.” It was Nathan again. “I’ve been thinking about the whole creativity and emotion thing all the way here. For sure that’s why it didn’t work on the ship. How could anyone have managed to do that in those conditions, and under so much pressure?”

  “Most of the times we made them before, we weren’t exactly relaxing on the beach. I was stressed, even if you weren’t.”

  Nathan shook his head. “Different kind of stress. That stress was aligned with what you were trying to do. We were desperate and focused.”

  “I was pretty desperate and focused on the ship, Nathan!”

  “And weak, and seasick. And scared. Or at least I hope you were, because I sure was.”

  “You? Scared?”

  He nodded. “Of course.”

  She let the words sink in. “But why did it affect me, and not you?”

  He smiled. “That’s easy. You’re the one with the power. Since when did you last see me draw a portal?”

  “What about that blockage, or whatever it was you thought you all felt?”

  He shrugged. “Stress. The ship. Everything at once. I dunno. What would you say it was?”

  She opened her mouth to speak. “I ... I don’t know.” She looked down at her hands.

  A stronger voice took over—the Professor. “I would suggest we are all feeling frightened for our world and for each other. As I was saying, if I thought there was another way ... but together we are uniquely equipped to do this, and we may not have much time, so we should prepare as positively as possible. Let’s start by reviewing the plan—thank you for the prompt, Rona, and we’re glad to have you back safe and sound.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” Rona said. She winked at Sarina. “Especially if the world needs us.”

  Sarina’s heart warmed. Maybe she could do this—what she had to do—with the support of people like Rona. And Nathan, painful though he could be at times. She drew herself up and forced a smile.

  The Professor caught her smile and gave her a tiny nod. “We already believe constructing a portal is best done under pressure, with all our emotion focused on the creative exploit of the construction of the portal, and the desired outcome, and not any undue external distraction.”

  “See! What I said!” Nathan looked around for support, but only found raised eyes. “Okay, okay, shut up Nathan, I get it.” He fell silent.

  “So for that reason, this hangar is an ideal location. We are undisturbed and in a safe place.”

  There was that word again: safe. She wished one day to feel safe again.

  “We also believe that, given the events that followed previous portals, it might be prudent to attempt this outside.”

  Behind a radioactive barrier and with the fire brigade on hand? she wondered, remembering a certain playground, now non-existent.

  “Lena will once again supply the imagery, Sarina will paint on an over-sized canvas using these.” He pointed to two buckets of various sized brushes, and a range of small paint-pots next to him. Agent Blanchard had been busy. “Rona, myself and Agent Blanchard, if required, will join hands to help strengthen the emotional focus to our two creative superstars, Nathan and Sarina.”

  Sarina noted that for once, Nathan did not puff his chest at the Professor’s remark, but instead smiled at her. An encouraging smile. She smiled back. Perhaps he was right: feel scared, but do it anyway. Hadn’t she done that on countless occasions already? The Professor was speaking to her.

  “Sarina? Do you agree?”

  She jerked out of her reverie. “Ah, sorry, Professor. I really am trying to focus. My head is spinning a little—what did you say?”

  He smiled. “Perfectly understandable. You must be feeling the pressure more than any of us. Whatever happens, Sarina, everyone here will know all of us did the best we could, including you.” Everyone nodded, and Sarina saw Lena’s infectious smile beaming at her across the table. “I was merely confirming you would indicate to me when the portal would be ready to accept the both of us. Is that correct?”

  She saw the tiny beads of sweat above his lip and realised with a shock the Professor was nervous—frightened maybe. Strangely, instead of this stirring her own emotions up, she allowed herself to let tension fall away from her body. She of course had popped backwards and forwards between portals like they were as common as a taxi, whereas the Professor had not. Perhaps his scientific mind was doing what Nathan’s would often do: speculate about the endless possibilities of a portal failing, and what it would do to the human body. But in her experience, it would either work, or it wouldn’t. And travelling through one, while ... strange, was not in the slightest bit painful.

  It was her turn to provide encouragement. “Yes, Professor, there’s nothing to worry about. Once the portal is open—which I will indicate to you with a thumbs-up, and believe me, when it’s open it’ll be obvious— the actual going through part is easy. Isn’t that right, Nathan?” She could see Nathan was pleased to be included.

  “Yes, Professor. As Sarina says—at first you think you’re falling, then you’re there. Weird ... but easy.” He flicked his thumb toward Sarina. “She’s got the hard bit. Oh—and remember to hold hands when you go through. It’ll make sure you arrive more or less at the same place.” He wrinkled his nose. “Actually that’s the hard bit. Holding hands with a girl.”

  Everyone laughed. Sarina wished she had his ease with people, but it felt good to laugh. If only for a bit. She kept her eye on the Professor, who looked relieved, and tried to wipe the sweat off his face while everyone was distracted. He caught her glance and looked a little sheepish. She smiled reassurance, though her stomach was still not in full agreement.

  The Professor jumped to his feet. “Then any delay will only have us thinking too much, eh? No time like the present, and since we all know what is asked of us ... the only thing left to do is to do it.”

  “Yes!” Nathan punched a fist into the air, then froze when he saw everyone looking at him. He lowered his arm slowly. “Too enthusiastic?” he ventured.

  Sarina grabbed his elbow, swept Lena along by the hand, and made sure Rona was following. “I think the Prof is right. We are
the people meant to do this, whether we like it or not.”

  “It’s fate, Sarina. Like it or lump it, gotta do something with it.” Rona grinned at them, then sped up to overtake them all out of the hangar.

  They exited the hangar and walked up to a hastily erected canvas, half the size of a house. Sarina moved in close and stroked the familiar surface. “Brush, be true this day,” she murmured. She moved back to the group, who waited for her instructions.

  Agent Blanchard raised his hand. “Ah, Miss. I suspect my, ah, unemotional brain might be a hindrance, and that I would be better put to use standing on guard?”

  Sarina smiled. “No problem, Agent Blanchard. But I’m sure my mother would say differently.” She witnessed Agent Blanchard blush for the first time ever. “Everyone else, we circle-up first; Lena will send her image and those who catch it please amplify it. It will help to close your eyes. As the Professor hinted, we all need to focus our feelings on making this work and finding that machine. I will hold on with one hand and paint.” She looked down. Agent Blanchard had done what they’d all forgotten, and brought the brushes and paints. She gave him a nod of thanks. “It would be best if Nathan held my hand first, since he and I know what to do, but, Professor, you should be next to Nathan, as he’ll have to let go and transfer you to me when we’re ready.” Her voice sounded confident, which helped quell her rising anxiety at the task ahead of them. She pushed it away with a deep breath.

  “Ready?”

  Nods all around, and they moved to join hands as she’d requested. Within moments, the image—similar to the previous one—sprang into her head: the rocky terrain, the strange, reddish-brown earth, and now five figures, walking, stumbling—and there it was: one figure carrying the collider! They had descended close to the tree-line, and were persevering with difficulty against an almighty gale, as far as she could tell.

  She opened one eye and reached for the brush that spoke to her first—a firm bristle that would hold a decent amount of paint. She wasted no time, and dipped in and out of the few colours necessary to create the portal’s base image. Nathan’s hand pressed tight into hers, and she sensed a sudden squeeze and looked up at the picture forming in front of them. Just as before, the portal began to shimmer and glow. At least that part was working. She breathed a small sigh of relief and carried on to make the image as complete as it seemed in their minds. She felt the breeze picking up on her cheeks and her t-shirt flapping against the rising wind. No matter—her paintwork would not be affected. A few more strokes and they would be ready for a combined pulse of focused energy to bring the portal to life. She gritted her teeth, and swept her hair back from the buffeting wind.

  “Alright everyone.” The wind was stronger now, and she had to raise her voice to be heard. “In a moment you have to try to intensify that image in your head and open your eyes to look at the portal. It’s going to work—but Professor, wait for my thumbs-up. I’ll tell you when to open your eyes, but for now, please send all your energy and passion into that image,” the last yelled over the noise of the wind pummelling them.

  She closed her eyes and squeezed Nathan’s hand. She heard a loud buzzing hum and the image in her mind brightened to the point of pain. She waited until the last moment, then shouted. “Now! Look at the portal!” She opened her eyes and prepared herself to give the Professor the thumbs up. She felt Nathan disengage his hand, and another, larger hand take hers, but her attention was taken by the painting in front of her—already flashing and sparking. The wind was not coming from around them, she realised in dismay, but from the portal itself, which gave an almighty scream and ripped apart, opening up a dark maw of turbine-strong suction.

  Sarina was plucked off her feet before she had any chance to give a thumbs up. The Professor’s hand was ripped out of hers, and she felt herself somersaulting into the void. As the world whirled around her, the last thing she saw were the others running away—she wasn’t sure from what—and the hole closing in front of her.

  One person wasn’t running though. She couldn’t. Rona’s chair was being sucked along, and into the portal’s greedy mouth, and there wasn’t a thing Rona could do about it.

  ~ 45 ~

  Collapse

  Nathan had already pushed the Prof’s hand into Sarina’s when the stiff breeze picked up, and turned into a full-scale gale. He saw the portal—now live, no doubt about that—sparking and flickering. Then his feet were swept out from under him and he found himself scrabbling for grip, and being pulled into the out-of-control portal, which was flashing and crackling like some megaton firework. He kicked himself away, and managed to drag Lena back with him. The Professor was trying to hold on to Sarina, but a giant blast of wind—inward to the portal—lifted her away as if she was no more than a leaf, and somersaulted her into the black centre of the portal, and she was gone.

  He continued to push himself back with his feet like some demented crab, holding tight to Lena with one hand. The power of the sucking wind was lessening, but he was powerless to do anything except watch as Rona and her wheelchair were swallowed up, and she too tumbled into the darkness.

  The entire canvas and wood structure tottered dangerously, buckled and buffeted by the air being sucked into the portal. A chainsaw-like sound accompanied a ripping of the canvas, leaving several flaps beating in the turbulence.

  A man appeared from nowhere, sprinting at full tilt toward the structure. He was clad in a black jumpsuit and black sneakers, wearing a small military-style backpack. He ignored all shouts to stop and, escaping the efforts of Blanchard’s men to tackle him, he ran to the flailing portal-opening and without hesitation, threw himself through it in a perfectly-executed barrel roll and was gone.

  Nathan barely had time to look around for Agent Blanchard, when the entire structure began to smoke from every shimmering edge, and with a massive crack, it collapsed into a sputtering heap of canvas and wood.

  The wind dropped away, and left them dazed, silent and stumbling to their feet.

  Nathan took Lena by the hand over to the Professor, who gathered her up in a firm hug. “What happened? And who was that?”

  The Professor shook his head, grim-faced. “I don’t know. Something is wrong. Something even bigger than we suspected. And now we’ve lost Sarina and Rona.”

  Nathan’s face paled. “You don’t mean ... for good?”

  The Professor looked at him for some time, lost for words.

  ~ 46 ~

  Cosmologically Speaking

  The Dish, Parkes, New South Wales, Australia

  Ashley picked up the phone, noting the caller ID. “TJ. Must be something important for you to be calling me. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “Hey, Ash. Just wondered if you’d seen the latest circular from SSERVI?”

  “No. Why? Have they uncovered a possible source? Last I heard they were looking for any nut-job that might be experimenting with anti-gravity devices.” She snorted. “As if.”

  “’Fraid not. But you’d better take a look. I’ll wait.”

  She frowned. It wasn’t like TJ to waste time on hold for anyone, even his best cosmological friend. “Sure. Be right back.” She put the phone down and called up the link to the circular from her email inbox. She’d been so engrossed in plotting the moon’s continued acceleration and the potential for breakup from gravitational stress, she’d forgotten all about it. She scanned the document summary with a deepening disquiet, then returned to the phone.

  “TJ, is this true, or is it some crackpot’s idea of their fifteen minutes of fame?”

  “That’s why I called you. This time I need you to look over my data. We’ve all been so obsessed with the moon, that we forgot to look to the stars.”

  “Oh, haha. But of course I’ll look it over—drop it in the usual place. But what’s this got to do with the latest science-fiction being pedalled by SSERVI?”

  “That’s exactly it, Ashley. I thought I’d try some correlation of my own—so I roped in the rest of the solar sys
tem, then a doppler-corrected analysis for historical placement in the galaxy. I was totally expecting to debunk their theory. But according to my data—”

  “Our solar system is being sucked into some unidentified gravitational wormhole? I can’t believe I’m saying that. Are you sure you haven’t been watching too much Star Trek?”

  “Check the data, Ash. That’s all I’m saying. If I’m right, then they’re right, and ...”

  “And it would be the cosmological event of the century?”

  “Typical of you to make such an understatement. I’d say of the millennium, at the very least. Finally, the human race will get to witness its own destruction AND post it on the internet.” He paused. “But please check my data. It’s not something I’d normally want to be wrong about—but please tell me I’m wrong.”

  He wasn’t, of course.

  ~~~

  Nathan watched as the Professor reached up and switched off the TV set in the minivan’s roof. They had agreed remaining at the airfield would serve no useful purpose, since, as Blanchard had remarked, the location was compromised.

  No one glimpsed the sprinting man’s face, but no one had any doubt where he was from: the Consortium. And if the Consortium knew where they were? Better not be there any more. Apparently having their Minister’s cover blown hadn’t stopped them, and now Sarina and Rona had some man-in-black after them. If they were even alive after the portal had literally blown up. Or sucked up, he thought, if he was going to be really literal.

  “Judging by the state of the portal when he entered, I suggest it’s far more likely he’s an infinite string of probabilities right now,” the Professor said, when Nathan voiced his fear.

  “Can’t we get Lena to warn them?”

  The Professor had agreed, but Lena had struggled to make any contact, telling them that in the past, it had been hit and miss.

  “Do you think the portal blowing up stuffed up the connection?” Nathan said. “I reckon it might’ve. It would be like trying to shine a torch on a sunny day: no one’s going to see it.”