by Jeff Altabef
“So much for the miracle baby.” Gagarin touches the baby’s cheek with the back of his hand. “These humans are the most advanced indigenous life form on this rotten planet. Given time and opportunity, they would either destroy the planet or evolve into something remarkable.”
Bailey hands him two pieces of paper—one with the Twisted Arrows symbol on it, and the other with the Twisted Samurai Swords. “We did find these.”
Gagarin smiles. “How poetic. In each case, two weapons are twisted together, but each weapon is different. One arrow for Alphians and another for humans, and the same design for the swords.” He laughs now, a blood-curdling chortle. “How pleased the Elders must have been to come up with this monstrosity. They spoil our blood by mixing it with these beasts and then create symbols to glorify it. I can’t wait until we shove these down their throats.
“Use the humans we pay, and have them monitor everyone close to this Juliet Wildfire Stone. I want them to capture every communication; eventually she’ll slip up, And get our computer experts to search the Internet for these... symbols. There will be two others, no doubt, for the other two hybrids. The Elders can’t help themselves. They will use these symbols somewhere else. It appeals to their warped sense of poetic symmetry too much to resist, and then we’ll know their hiding place.”
He hands the papers, wrinkled now from where he grabbed them, back to Bailey and strolls toward the far end of the structure. “How are you progressing on the experiments? Do we have a workable formula yet?”
Bailey matches his strides. “Almost. The fatality rate has dropped to fifty percent. It shouldn’t take me long to reduce that number to a more manageable percentage so we won’t lose that many humans.”
So close now. So close.
Gagarin slides his hand into his pocket and traces the outline of the Hyper-Link Crystal. A crystal carver spent a year on it and fused the brainwaves of the Deltite leader into the structure. Even though the leader is on a different planet far from Earth, if Gagarin focuses on the crystal and pushes his mind into the structure, he would become linked with the leader and could communicate telepathically with him as if they shared the same space. Rare and valuable, he would only use the crystal for truly important news, news he desperately wants.
Maybe soon.
“The finalized formula is the last element I need before we start my plan.” He glances at Bailey. “Have the survivors been following the instructions we give them through the cellular waves?”
Bailey grins. “Absolutely. The girl Caleb picked up yesterday killed another test subject without hesitation. She slit his throat with a kitchen knife and had no idea what she had done. The drug will make all humans follow our commands.”
“Good. We don’t need all these humans. If a quarter of them die off in the process, so be it. We’ll still have more than enough for what I want. You have a week to do your best with the formula. Drop the fatality rate to twenty-five percent and then dump it into the reservoirs that feed into the drinking water. We’ll do a test and see where we are.”
“But millions of humans will die with such a high fatality rate.” Caleb looks at him with questioning eyes, but when Gagarin glares back, he blinks nervously and shrinks backward.
“I don’t care. It will only soften them up for the next stage of my plan. They’ll blame it on some plague brought upon them by a divine power. One week and then we test the drug with the cellular signals.” He slides closer to Caleb, feeling like a lit stick of dynamite, ready to explode. “Unless you want to challenge me. In that case we can settle the matter between us now.”
Caleb averts his eyes downward, takes a long step back, and nods. “One week and we’ll dump the formula into the water supply.”
“Good.” Gagarin resumes his stroll. When he reaches an unfinished exhibit, he stops.
Four empty pedestals wait for their charges.
He sweeps his hand against the tallest pedestal and glances down at the name carved into the wood—Alpha.
The Host strolls through the doorway with Sydney a step behind.
People often surprise me. Take Frankie, for instance. At first he looked like a thug—nothing but a collection of muscles littered with tattoos, but the real Frankie is completely different from what I had imagined; his rough edges smoothed out with compassion and infectious sweetness.
I glance at Troy, who squints his eyes and shakes his head. I know that look. He’s unhappy. He’s always been better at reading people than me. Whenever someone new showed up at school, he’d size him or her up by the end of the first day. Usually, I’d say that wasn’t fair, but his one word pronouncements—jerk, cool, smart— were always spot on. He has a sixth sense for these things, and he’s clearly not happy with the Host, which puts me on edge.
Stuart sits at the far end of the long table while Sydney stands behind him. “Hello, Twisteds, I trust you’ve enjoyed dinner. Yes, yes, I’m certain you did.”
I’m not sure what pisses me off more—that Stuart is the Host and kept that secret from me, or that Sydney appears to be entangled with us, which means she’ll be spending time with Troy, smiling and winking and flirting with him.
“You’re the bloody Host?” Connor sounds as confused as I am.
None of the visions I’ve had about Alphians included anyone who looks like Stuart. I assumed he was just a person who helped the Host—some quirky guy who likes romance novels and for some tragic reason decided to dye his eyebrows blond. I guess the ring with the Inn’s symbol on it should have made me think twice about him, but Stuart the Host?
He’s going to help us defeat the Deltites?
He nods. “I hope you’re not disappointed. Were you expecting someone taller, thinner, and better looking, perhaps?” His eyes twinkle, but behind the surface they look menacing.
The hair on the back of my neck stands at attention. I’ve totally misjudged him.
Blake leans forward. “No offense, but all the dreams from the Fusions show a different type of Alphian. You’re just not what we expected.”
Stuart strokes his beard. “Yes, yes, I understand completely. Each Fusion could only contain so many... dreams... yes, let’s use dreams for lack of a better word. The Elders didn’t deem it necessary to include my kind in those dreams.”
“Your kind?” Akari asks.
He leans back in his chair, looking at ease, comfortable even. “You see, there are two types of Alphians. Always have been. The tall, thin, hairless, fair-skinned Alphians that are quite beautiful, really. They’re simply called Alphians, and then there are... my kind—shorter, hairy, with....” He pats his ample stomach. “Let’s just say a little rounder. We’re commonly called the Uglies. It’s simple—just Alphians and Uglies existing together.
“The Alphians rule Alpha. They certainly do and always have. None of the Elders has ever been an Ugly. Not one.” He snorts. “What a thought, really. An Ugly as an Elder. Now that would certainly create a stir, but we’re not meant to lead. No, no, it’s our role to serve. We’re not gifted with the same abilities as the Alphians. Generally not, although there have been exceptions, certainly, but what you see is what you get with my kind.”
He pauses, calmly clasps his hands on the table, and watches us. It takes a moment for me to process what he has just told us. There are two types of Alphians? Why would they send an Ugly to help us? It makes no sense. He doesn’t have any abilities. How much help will he be?
The others shoot questions at him as if they’re a firing squad and he’s bound and propped up against a wall.
He remains stone-faced; his mouth purses but stays closed.
The questions start to slow.
Blake asks, “Well, why don’t you say something?”
Stuart leans on his elbows, his chin cupped in the palm of his hands. “So many questions. Yes, understandable, really. I’m sure I would have even more if our roles were reversed.” He checks his wristwatch. “But we simply don’t have time to answer them right now. Let me fill
you in on the necessary bits, and hopefully we’ll get to the other stuff later.”
“Hopefully,” mutters Akari.
Stuart ignores her and locks his eyes on me instead. “You should all understand the stakes of this little enterprise. Not only is Earth in play, but also the entire known universe is in jeopardy. Yes, yes, the whole ball of wax, as some might say.” He lifts his head and laces his fingers together, and the light glints off his pinkie ring. “The Deltites believe they are the most advanced beings in the universe, and that as such, they deserve to rule over all other life forms. The Elders dismissed this way of thinking centuries ago and expelled them to the far reaches of the universe, hoping that they would be trapped and we’d never see them again.
“At this point, it’s safe to say they were wrong about never seeing them again. Yes, safe indeed. I doubt they will make that mistake again. Yes, yes, that would be extremely unlikely. Still, here we are. Having grown in power, the Deltites have spread like weeds, causing destruction and enslaving entire planets in their wake. At least half a dozen planets are now ruled by Deltites. A totally manageable situation if the Elders act quickly. If, if, if.”
“So, if it’s manageable, then why do you need us?” Blake asks.
“Fair question. First, the Elders are only now convening a Gathering to decide what to do. If they decide to battle the Deltites, it will take some time to prepare. And second, the Deltites are here. Earth is a high value target for them. If they control the planet, it would make things more difficult for the Elders to eventually defeat them.”
“What can we do to stop them?” I ask.
“Time is all we need. Earth is a worthy acquisition, but it’s one of three such targets. Perhaps it’s the most valuable, but any one of the three will strengthen them. The Deltites have plans to take over all three, but they will only move against one at a time. They simply don’t have the resources to take over all three at once. So, we’re stuck in a game for time, time, time. If we eliminate the Deltite leader on Earth, the one they call the Prime Elector, it will delay them considerably, probably enough to make one of the other two targets more attractive, which will keep Earth safe for now.”
A lump forms in my throat. “By eliminate, you mean kill?”
“Of course I do! This is war and during war casualties are expected. It simply cannot be helped. No, not helped.” He strokes his beard, his eyebrows arch upward, and his eyes blaze with an intense light.
“But, if we kill this Prime Elector, won’t the next... what do you call him?” Akari waves her hand for a second, frustrated until she remembers the words. “Yes, the second in command, continue with the plan? How much time would it buy us?”
Stuart smirks. It’s an annoying expression, as if he’s the kid in class who knows all the answers even before the teacher has covered the subject. “Sometimes I assume you know more about our society than you do. All Alphians are not equal. Four levels exist based upon abilities. Only a few are among the most powerful and considered Level One Alphians. And among them only a couple are powerful enough to be called Elites. Our Elders are always Elites. The Deltites, who cherish power over all other attributes, firmly believe in this hierarchical type of society.
“The Prime Elector will be an immensely powerful Elite. They would never attempt to take the planet without his authority or leadership. If he dies, they’ll wait for a new Elite to replace him, and that will take some time. Hopefully, enough time for the Elders to act.”
“Do you know who this bloody Prime Elector is?” Connor asks.
“Yes, I certainly do.” Stuart checks his watch and frowns. “But you do not need that information at this time. No, most assuredly you do not. It would be counterproductive. We do not have much time. Apparently, our Inn is less secure than I thought. Now that they know some of the twisted symbols, I am sure they will be on to us in no time.”
How does he know that they’ve discovered some of our symbols? He wasn’t in the room when we talked about them. I glance at the ceiling and spot two fire detectors. Both look identical, but only one is needed. He’s spying on us. And if he’s listening to us here, I’m sure he has concealed other devices in our rooms. If we’re on the same side, why spy on us?
A bell chimes and prompts Stuart to pull a digital stopwatch from his pocket and place it on the table in front of him. “Your first test has begun. You have four minutes to reach Central Park West and 72nd Street. Go through the entrance to the park and you’ll find a flask under the first bench on your left. Grab the flask and take one gulp of the cure each. Yes, just one gulp is all that is needed, but make sure you get there before the four minutes are up.”
“72nd Street is more than two miles from here. We’ll never make it in time.” Blake crosses his arms.
“If you tap into your enhanced strength and speed, you have plenty of time. Better hurry and drink the cure.”
Akari bolts upward. She’s one leap away from strangling Stuart. “Cure! Why do we need a cure?”
Stuart slides the stopwatch toward me. “Because you’ve all been poisoned, of course. If you fail to drink the cure in time, you will die.”
“All but you, Troy,” says Sydney sweetly, a smile on her lips.
The room practically detonates as shrapnel flies everywhere and tempers explode.
Connor swipes his plate from the table, and it shatters against the wall.
Chairs crash to the floor as we surge toward Stuart.
We’re all yelling at the same time, making it impossible to hear what’s being shouted because the voices mix together to create an indecipherable scream.
The air around Stuart sparkles and light bends around him.
Akari is the first to reach him and tries to grab him, but her hand bashes against an invisible wall. She tries again, harder this time, but when she can’t touch him she streams a torrent of Japanese curse words.
Stuart stands on his chair. The force field distorts his features and twists his face, which is totally freaky.
He speaks softly, so we quiet to hear him. “You should know that Uglies commonly have one ability. We can create an energy field around us. It’s like a turtle and his shell. Unfortunately we cannot hold it for too long. In my case, maybe five minutes or so. Yes, yes, but that is plenty of time under the circumstances. You will all perish in four minutes unless you take the cure. Less than four minutes now and counting. I suggest you get moving. Time is running and you cannot afford to waste any of it. Move you must.”
I grab the stopwatch—three minutes and forty-seven seconds left. He’s right! We had better move fast.
Troy’s eyes blaze hot, but he pushes me toward the door.
“Let’s go!” I bolt.
Connor, Akari, and Blake run a step behind me as we race from the Inn and plunge into the night. Connor sprints in front with long looping strides. Akari pumps her arms and legs just behind him, and Blake is off and running to my left.
Only a few pedestrians walk the streets at this time of night. The sky is dark, but streetlights and lights from apartments brighten our path. My feet pound the pavement as I struggle to keep up with Connor and suck air in gasps.
We sprint fast and dodge people as we go, but it won’t be enough. We need a new gear. We need to tap into our enhanced abilities.
I open my mind to the energy around me. A tingling sensation ripples through my arms and legs, and they start to surge as if I’ve flipped a switch, and I dart forward.
I’m flying.
Obstacles blur past as I race incredibly fast—faster than cars, faster than anyone has ever run before. As the wind whips through my hair, a new emotion bubbles up inside of me. I stop worrying about the cure and the Seekers and the Prime Elector, and a joy-filled smile bursts on my face. For the first time, I’m happy I’m different. I start to scream.
Then Connor’s next to me and he’s also screaming. Akari and Blake are a few steps behind us and they howl into the night. Ours is a primal scream, full of life and
energy and joy.
We reach a busy intersection with a red light, and I can’t stop. Cars stream in front of me. A bus lumbers across the road. There’s nowhere for me to go but in front of that bus. It’s going to crush me. I’ll be flattened against the windshield like a bug.
I close my eyes and leap, pushing off the ground with my right foot in full stride, and for a heartbeat I’m really flying as my body climbs into the air, my legs still churning. I pass over the top of the bus and land on the other side of the intersection. My right foot hits first and then my left. I stagger a step, but keep my balance and race on. I glance over my shoulder to see the others take flight with the same wide grin on their faces.
I turn north and really fire up the afterburners. The sidewalk is too congested to avoid pedestrians, so I hop over the curb, swerve onto the street, and burn past everything. Each time there’s a red light I take flight and soar higher and farther. Central Park West is only a few heartbeats away, the first trees that mark the beginning of the park in sight. The sidewalk is empty now, so I jump back over the curb and peek at the stopwatch. We still have one minute twenty-two seconds and only 13 blocks left. I gulp air as my legs and arms pump faster than I could have ever imagined.
I reach the entrance on 72nd Street, swing to the right, enter the park, and screech to a stop at a park bench on my left. Diving underneath, I find a leather-covered flask with the Inn’s symbol etched onto it. I tip it back and down a gulp. The syrupy liquid tastes like roses. When I look up, Connor jogs to a stop in front of me. I hand him the flask, and he takes a swig before passing it on to Akari.
“Woooow!” he shouts. “That was absobloodylootely amazing.”
I glance at the stopwatch. “We still have thirty-seconds. Where’s Blake?”
They both spin.
“I’m sure he was right behind me.” Akari spins, but he’s nowhere in sight.
My heart sinks. Something’s wrong. There are twenty seconds left.
I grab the flask from Akari, streak back out of the park, and turn south on Central Park West. My body shakes with energy as auras flash on all around me, not just for people, but every creature. Their life forces burn in the night air like flares.
