by S. K. Holder
Connor felt heat rising from the floor, permeating the soles of his boots. He heard the thrumming of electricity.
They were definitely underground. So why did it look as if they were above it?
Particles of dust hung in the air. It coated the blocks of furniture and the flat screen set into the wall. One of the tables had a jagged crack running through it. A gas canister had been made into a table for a forlorn plant with no leaves.
‘Would you like something to eat, Citizen,’ said the boy.
Connor said yes with some reluctance. He felt his stomach wasn’t strong enough to keep down any food, but the boy looked eager to please and he had a feeling he would be disappointed if he said no.
The boy disappeared through a doorway.
The woman’s eyes fastened on the boy until he had disappeared from view. She then turned to Connor, scrutinising him. ‘What’s your name?’
He didn’t want to tell her his real name. He had trusted people in the past by revealing his true identity and they had let him down. ‘Duffy.’
‘Just Duffy?’
‘Duffy Jones.’ Jones was Riley’s surname.
She towered over him. ‘Essar Zatus.’ She shook his hand. ‘Why don’t you sit down?’
Connor sat on a cube-shaped chair piled with stiff cushions. The muck from his clothes soiled the fabric. In the home of a complete stranger, he couldn’t help but feel unsettled. He had vowed to be cleverer, braver and stronger if he ever found himself in a similar predicament to Narrigh. He already felt as if he was failing. Deep down, he knew the Authoritative Voice was right; he was a coward. It didn’t matter how many push-ups he did. The bravest feat he had ever achieved on Earth was learning to swim the length of the pool in his local fitness centre.
Essar gave him a crooked smile and flopped onto a chair opposite him. She leaned back and put her feet up on the table.
All Connor could think about was finding refuge in the Citizen city away from the aliens. He didn’t know what to say to Essar. The crease around her eyes and on the bridge of her nose made her look angry even when she smiled and the tattoos on her head resembled a montage of spilled blood and blades. He didn’t think it would do him any good telling her he was from Earth. He had made that mistake before and wasn’t about to repeat it. She wouldn’t have believed him anyway. It was better that he keep up the pretence of a lost local Citizen boy, which meant that he had to keep his mouth shut. If he asked her too many questions she would grow suspicious and hostile.
He made an effort at conversation. ‘Do you and your son live here alone?’
Essar tugged off her boots and threw them in the corner. ‘You’re the most bizarre Citizen I’ve ever met.’ She inclined her head. ‘And I’ve met a lot of Citizens.’
What did she mean by bizarre? There was nothing bizarre about him, aside from the fact that he may have come across a little impolite and nosey by asking her about her living arrangements, and that was only because he found the silence between them unbearable. Questions mounted in his head. He wanted to know about the underground world and why night was day. He wanted to learn about the Citizens who dwelled in the city and of the other neighbouring planets in the galaxy, but that was at the risk of blowing his cover. If he wanted to convince her that he came from Pyridian he would have to act as if he knew all about the alien world.
The silence stretched out and Connor squirmed uncomfortably. Afraid to meet her wary gaze, he fiddled with the cuff on his torn uniform.
She finally answered him. ‘I don’t live here and neither does my son,’ she said. ‘The people who lived here abandoned it and we sort of moved in − temporarily.’
‘Right,’ he said, nodding as if it were a perfectly reasonable explanation. He wondered why they had left their own home, but knew he would never ask and she would never tell him.
He lurched from his chair in alarm when the boy returned carrying a plate of food that resembled a blue squid. He had forgotten all about him.
Essar laughed. ‘You’re a jumpy one aren’t you? Perhaps you should have stayed behind your city walls. My boy’s name is Brenim.’
‘Thanks Brenim.’ Connor took the plate of food from the boy. It didn’t look very appetising and it smelt like raw seafood. Beaming, Brenim held out a spoon. He took the spoon from him and stuck it into the squid-like mass on the plate. It made a horrible squelching noise, reminding him of the first alien he had encountered, the one whose tentacle he had bitten into. He felt the bile rising in his throat. He thought if he looked at it a moment longer he was going to be sick, and if he ate it…
‘Take it away Brenim,’ said Essar, sensing Connor’s revulsion.
Brenim looked from the bowl to Connor, and then back at his mother. ‘But−’
‘Take it away Brenim. He doesn’t want it. Go on. You can have it tomorrow.’
Brenim stuck out his bottom lip and puffed up his cheeks. He stormed off with the uneaten plate of food.
‘He spent all day making it,’ Essar explained, ‘and he’s the only one who wants to eat it.’
Connor thought he may have acted rashly. He needed something to stave off his hunger. If he didn’t eat soon, he would probably pass out.
Brenim returned with a drink in his hand. He thrust the glass at Connor and then ran from the room before he had a chance to thank him. The liquid in the glass had two layers: an aqua marine colour at the bottom and a purple colour at the top. He took a sip. It tasted like a mixture of exotic fruits.
‘Do any Citizens live outside the city, I mean below ground like you?’ he asked Essar.
‘No. They prefer the city to the dunes.’
‘Dunes?’
She gestured to the roof. He realised she was referring to the many sandbanks he had seen. ‘That’s what we call them. Our saviours. Solid banks formed from blue sandstone.’
He told her about the dead man he had seen, the one without a face, and about the three alien species he had encountered.
‘The one that makes the clicking sound is a Telquorkhan. They’re the most deadly. They infect you before you die. And you will die. Even Citizens are not safe from their sting. I heard it drives them mad. They get in here you see,’ she tapped the side of her head with her finger. ‘A worm in the brain. You’d have to hack the head open to get it out. The Koracks, on the other hand, are dim-witted and easily killed once you rid them of their tentacle. They can swallow you whole. I once heard of an unarmed Citizen who churned around in a Korack’s belly for months. You Citizens may not have to worry about a slow death, but dead is dead and if you can’t escape the belly of an alien, you’re as good as.’ She cackled at the sight of his horrified expression. ‘I don’t know of the other alien of which you speak. I have heard rumours of another race of aliens. A small number of our people call them the Echoes. Aliens of an unseen form that can create sound where there should be none. Some say the Echoes are delusions of madness brought about by the Telquorkhans, or creatures conjured by the bravest of our Peltarck warriors for the means of scare-mongering.’
Connor set down his juice. He felt trapped. What was to stop an alien coming across an open dune door and gnawing its way into the dwellings below? Who could he rely on to protect him then? He was in a modern home. He saw no reason why Essar couldn’t phone someone or send an electronic message on his behalf. There had to be someone out there who could help him get home. ‘I want to go to the city now. I need to get home. Can you call someone to pick me up?’
Essar stiffened at his tone. She rose to her feet. ‘Now you sound like a true Citizen. I can’t call anyone because my son and I are not supposed to be living here. The Varipod that you were travelling on should have a communication link. I’d have to go back out to retrieve it−’
His heart sank. ‘Don’t bother. It’s broken.’
A loud bang came from the ceiling. Essar gazed up at the staircase. ‘Go back there,’ she said, gesturing to a doorway on her left.
Connor went through the doo
rway. It took him to a storeroom. Packets, jars and boxes of bizarre food and liquids lined the shelves. He held his nose. The place smelt of petrol fluid and cheese. Rusty cans and broken glass had been trailed across the floor. Food packages from the top racks had leaked onto the shelves below.
Once Essar had disappeared up the stairway, and the hatch had spiralled shut after her, he came out from his hiding place and climbed part way up the steps. He thought it was too much of a coincidence that Essar should have a visitor shortly after his arrival.
Brenim wandered into the room with a halo of blue colouring around his mouth. Connor put his finger to his lips to tell Brenim to keep quiet. The boy ducked behind a chair.
Connor attempted to tune into the conversation above him. He heard only stifled voices and hissing air. It made him wonder how far underground he had travelled.
A tremor in the ceiling signaled the descent of the lift. Connor bounded back down the stairs and into the storeroom without taking the care to tread quietly.
‘It’s okay Duffy you can come out,’ said Essar. ‘It must be your day of fortune. You’ve got a ride.’
Connor stepped out of the storeroom. A young woman stood in front of him dressed in a suit of armour covered in metal spikes. If she were from Earth, she could have passed for East Asian. She had pale skin. Her black hair was tied away from her face. A curved blade hung from her belt along with an arsenal of other unusual weapons. She had a hole under her lower lip and several holes in each ear that once held piercings.
The woman gave a stiff bow and then straightened, shaking her head. ‘Didn’t you learn your lesson the first time around Connor?’
‘Excuse me?’ He had never seen her before, but she wouldn’t have been the first stranger he had met to have known his name. He was beginning to think he might be famous. ‘Do I know you?’
‘I’m Lintheia Aroda.’
To his astonishment, Essar crashed to her knees and flopped forward so her head touched the floor. Brenim joined his mother, running from behind the chair and stooping on bended knee. ‘Forgive me your majesty,’ said Essar. ‘I did not recognise you.’
The notion of bowing to Lintheia Aroda filled Connor with dread. She was a stranger to him and he didn’t want to look foolish. He was about to lean in for a handshake when she turned to address him.
‘You can call me Lin,’ she said ignoring Essar and Brenim who had yet to rise from their bows. ‘Is Luke with you?’
‘You know my brother?’
‘I helped him search for you. Has he never mentioned me?’
‘No.’ He had never mentioned anything, he had wanted to tell her. That was the problem.
Her mouth tightened. ‘Never mind. I guess we better get you home. And don’t worry, I know where your real home is.’
Connor thanked Essar and Brenim for their hospitality and they mumbled their goodbyes from the floor. It was fortunate Lin had found him. He was relieved to have his Pyridian adventure cut short. If he wanted answers, he would find them on Earth, in Tridan Entertainment. He couldn’t believe he had been stupid enough to put his life in danger by coming to Pyridian. He’d never find the answers if he was dead. He had the date and time of his departure from Earth set in his mind. If the Citizens sent him back before his visit to Tridan Entertainment, no one would know he had ever left and he would get another chance, and this time he planned to do it right, by confronting Luke with what he knew.
THIRTEEN
After Luke had disappeared, Ted started to think he should do the same. A vanishing act would do him a heap of good right now. He had given Luke his bank details so they had no reason to speak again. Or did they? He had never blackmailed anyone before. Giving Luke his bank details may not have been the cleverest idea. He had some money in his account. What if Luke took money out instead of putting it in? No. That’s not how blackmail worked. He had the power. He was in control. He need never see Luke again. Luke would get the money to free his little bro, even if he had to rob The Bank of England.
Once the money hit Ted’s account, he knew he couldn’t hang around. Luke terrified him, but Steve scared him more. Steve Lepton made Ted want to shrink into a tiny ball, crawl under a table and never come out again. Steve was a sociopath. Ted was certain of that. When you looked into his eyes you saw something depraved hidden there. He couldn’t explain it. You just knew, knew that if you crossed him, you would regret it for the rest of your life. He hadn’t followed Steve’s instructions. Steve had been very specific: Luke should have the laptop. No one else. Only Luke.
Ted didn’t want his curiosity to get the better of him. It did anyway. He spent a good ten minutes hobbling around the basement to ensure he was alone. Satisfied he was on his own, he opened the capsule door and went inside. The laptop was still there. Still alive. He gawked at it. He shuddered at the sight of Connor’s school bag, his jacket and the laptop charger resting on the stool. Where had he gone? Was he coming back? For a wild moment, he wished he could disappear in the same way.
The laptop screen was blank. Ted slid a pen from his pocket and used it to tap one of the keys. The desktop appeared with all the usual computer icons, including The Plague of Pyridian and The Quest of Narrigh shortcuts. He shuddered again and slammed the laptop shut.
He found a Pyridian gaming guide in Connor’s rucksack, one of the dud copies he had pinched from Steve’s office and later thrown in the bin.
‘Little thief,’ he muttered, taking it out. He would have to hide the evidence just in case Connor didn’t come back and Tridan implicated him. He stuffed Connor’s jacket inside the bag and zipped it closed. It wouldn’t hurt to run a cloth through the place too. Get rid of his fingerprints. Then the only ones they would find were the kid’s and Steve Lepton’s (if he could persuade him to venture this way).
He flicked his temple with his finger and thumb. ‘I’m an idiot!’ He had made a novice mistake. He had given Luke too much time to get the money. His uncle sat on the twenty-fifth floor pretending to be at the helm of the company. He should have insisted Luke go straight up there − give Kane Brailey some real work to do for a change.
He sat on one of the stools and ran his shirtsleeve over the table top. A panel slowly rose from its centre. He studied it for a while. He stabbed at the key on the touch control screen with his pen. Not that he expected anything spectacular to happen. Chances were it only worked if you touched it with his bare fingers.
Two lights came on above his head. Green for GO. Red for STOP, guessed Ted. ‘How original.’
The green light flashed. ‘Welcome to the Teleportation Capsule. Press four to activate the quantum accelerator,’ said a synthesized female voice. Ted looked out of the capsule viewing window at the teleportation platform. From his vantage point, he couldn’t see the entire podium. From what little of it he could see, there was no unusual activity.
He returned to the stool. He was being silly. There was no such thing as teleportation; Professor Hatleman had attested to it in one of his monotone lectures.
He pressed four. Again, he didn’t expect anything out of the ordinary to happen. The Vega computer was the only working apparatus in the exhibition stadium. The rest were aesthetics. When a hologram grid appeared above the touchscreen, Ted’s eyes bulged with surprise. This was neat stuff. The company had spared no expense. He pushed his hand through the grid and then pulled it out again. The grid went concave and enlarged.
He expanded the grid again by pushing his finger through one of the squares. A number of the grid lines were thicker than the rest. He also detected dots and numerical digits interspersed within the grid. Some of the dots had crosses through them.
‘Render the coordinates,’ the voice announced.
‘Sorry, don’t have any coordinates to render,’ said Ted. He wondered what he had done differently to Connor. The grid hadn’t appeared when the kid had been in the capsule. He had vanished into the laptop or it looked as if he had. It was hard to see through the other side of the window.
It wouldn’t have been the first time he had witnessed this sort of phenomenon. Beth Crosswell had vanished in a purple void right before his eyes, leaving her laptop behind. The screen had flashed purple. He had fled in fear and returned half an hour later with a broom and a can of bug spray: his own blend of self-defence. He had used the broom to push open the door and hitch up the laptop to take the serial number off of the bottom. The machine was dead by then, but it was unusually hot. He reported all he had witnessed to Steve. They returned to Beth’s office together. The laptop was gone by then and Steve had not been impressed by his account of the events. The ill-tempered man had snatched the bug spray and broom from his hands and swept and sprayed him out of Beth’s office. The ordeal had left Ted with burning eyes and a nasty cough for days.
A noise erupted above his head: a throbbing, whirring sound, not unlike a fire alarm. He covered his ears. He had had enough. He scampered to the door and tried to get it open. The red and green lights had gone out. The whole capsule lit up like a lava lamp. Ted gazed at the ceiling. A neon purple light beamed back at him.
The voice screeched in his ears. ‘Select primary platform, random touchdown or set relocation.’
Primary platform? Ted panicked. It looked as if something was coming into the basement and nothing was going out. The only platform sat outside the capsule. He didn’t want anything showing up in the basement – something alien.
‘Better to leave it,’ he said. He tried to shut the control panel down and make the hologram grid disappear by tapping the commonest key he could find: EXIT. Nothing happened. CANCEL? Not happening. He thought, ‘what the heck’, and bashed the RANDOM key five times with his clammy thumb.
‘Random touchdown has been set. Press nine to open the gate.’
Ted scratched his head. Did he want to open a gate? He felt he had gone too far now not to open something, what with making Connor disappear and blackmailing Luke. Things could go very badly for him if Connor didn’t come back. There was a chance that opening this gate, real or not, would bring back Connor. He pressed nine. After all, things couldn’t get any worse.
