The Sky Drifter

by Paris Singer

  As soon as everyone was seated, and Mr. Sylva had magnetized his mobile unit to the floor at the front, the pilots started the vessel, which rose soundlessly off the ground, tilted momentarily left, then right, as it aligned itself with the sloping runway ahead. The large, steel door at the end slid slowly open while all the safety procedures and checks inside and outside the vessel were being done.

  After everything was finally ready, a pulsating sound at the back of the vessel gradually became louder and faster until it thrust forward at great speed along the runway out of the Sky Drifter into the vastness of space.

  Once outside, and sufficiently far away from the ship, the vessel stopped and made a ninety-degree turn. Looking out of the window, I saw just how massive the Sky Drifter really was. Aside from the large dome, which covered the surface where we all lived, studied, and worked, there were a total of twenty-two decks below, which accommodated the hangar, further quarters for the crew and other specialists and the great amount of machinery needed to run the ship itself. As the vessel sped away, the Sky Drifter was soon replaced by countless stars and the endless panorama of space.

  “Approaching planet Brattea,” came a tinny voice over the intercom. “Conditions appear stable.”

  As the vessel gradually entered its atmosphere, darkness was replaced by wispy, yellow clouds and a yellow-green sky. The farther we descended, the more the great expanse of the planet’s surface came into view. Dark purple spiralling trees, pointy emerald trees, short brown and orange trees, thin trees every shade of yellow, dark and bright red furry trees, all were squeezed in together to make a patchwork of swaying colors I’d never seen before.

  “Told you you’d like it,” came Iris’ voice as she peered at me from behind her seat.

  Realizing just how wide my mouth was open, I immediately closed it and roughly cleared my throat. Sometimes I think I could be as stubborn as Iris. I looked at her to see if she was still angry with me, but she sat as Mr. Sylva began to speak.

  “Students, we will be landing shortly. When we do, exit the vessel one by one in an orderly manner and then stand together just outside it. As we set off, you will follow me closely, making certain you pay special attention to all above and below you as you walk, and respect your surroundings. You will find that nothing here on Brattea will harm you, and so you shall not harm its inhabitants, either.”

  Soon after, the vessel landed in a small clearing. From outside, a whirring sound could be heard as the platform lowered and then rested on the ground before the door opened. The smell that drifted inside as we stood was musty and earthy. Something about it made me think it was as old as time itself.

  I walked off the vessel and onto the patchy red and brown grass below. I breathed in as deeply as I could and exhaled. My lungs felt cleaner and my mind lighter than they had in quite a while.

  As clean as the artificial air was aboard the Sky Drifter, it just couldn’t compare to fresh, clean air. My mind spinning slightly at the sudden change, I felt ready for the excursion ahead.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I LOOKED AROUND FOR Iris and soon found her speaking with a Syreni girl who, like the Arcus, were generally considered an empirically beautiful race. They were covered head to toe in deep blue scales and their hair was as yellow and bright as any star. Their large, green eyes were half as big as their elongated heads and blinked from left to right.

  Upon seeing me, Iris excused herself and then walked chirpily toward where I stood.

  “So?” she asked, looking excitedly around her. “What do you think?”

  Not wanting to annoy Iris further, and being honest with myself, I replied, “It’s lovely, Iris. You were right.”

  Beaming, she said, “I knew you’d like it here!”

  Having been first off the vessel, Mr. Sylva, who’d now stepped out of his mobile unit and was now standing with his roots deep inside the dark earth below, said, “Gather round, students.” Once everyone had finally drawn closer and formed a semi-circle around him, he continued. “Students, you will now follow me closely, paying attention to all below and above you, making certain you respect your surroundings. You will find that nothing in Brattea will harm you, so you will not harm anything, either. Now, find a partner with whom to walk and follow me closely, so you don’t get lost.”

  With that, Mr. Sylva turned, his many roots—which looked like long, curly toes at the end of his two feet—plunging in and ripping out of the soil as he walked.

  As instructed, everyone got in pairs. Iris interlocked her arm with mine. We all walked behind Mr. Sylva closely enough not to lose him, but far enough away so as not to be hit by the falling clumps of earth in his wake.

  He led us into the thick gathering of trees along a narrow, leafy path. The deeper into the perpetual forest we walked, the dimmer the light from above became. The dead leaves underfoot, with their bright reds, oranges, and yellows, contrasted with the dark soil beneath them.

  “Isn’t this beautiful, Seven?” asked Iris, interlacing her fingers under her chin.

  Right and left of us, the ancient forest planet creaked and groaned and whispered. While those far from bothered me, I felt as though there was something else out there. That somewhere in the depths something watched me.

  “It’s lovely, Iris,” I replied, keeping my thoughts to myself.

  As we walked, we came across strange beings we’d never seen before. From either side of the paths we followed there would occasionally be a certain species of plant, which had three long purple and pink spirals, reaching up from the ground. These particular plants mimicked every sound they heard around them in a slightly nasally, high-pitched tone. So when Mr. Sylva first walked past the first few of their kind we came across, they mimicked the churning sound of the earth he created with his feet.

  Once we all heard this, we stopped and stared in wonder at them as they mimicked our chattering voices.

  “Please ignore them, students,” began Mr. Sylva. “They feed off attention, and these appear healthy enough as it is. Please, follow me.”

  Farther on, we encountered others of their kind, though this time they were a deep shade of red with bright yellow spots all over them. These, unlike the last, made what on my native planet we call “raspberry” sounds with every step we all took. There being around six or seven of them on either side of the path, the peace and tranquillity of the forest quickly turned into an orchestra of wind instruments. We giggled helplessly through Mr. Sylva’s continuing, repetitive advice of, “Please ignore them, students. They feed off attention, and these appear healthy enough as it is.”

  The farther we walked, the thicker and damper the air became until it weighed down on my shoulders.

  “This is all so wonderful,” said Iris more to herself than to me, looking all around her. It always amazed me how she could sometimes be so ruthless and scary, unafraid of anything or anyone, but at other times be so light-hearted and merry as she was then. “I cannot wait to finally see the Bratteans. They’re just so cute!”

  “Iris,” I began, hesitantly, “do you get the feeling we’re being…watched?”

  “Oh yes. We started being watched since before we even landed. I mean, this planet is full of life all around us, so it’s natural to think they’re going to be just as curious about us as we are about them.”

  “No, that’s not what I mean. I don’t know, I…”

  Suddenly, something brushed the top of my head. I instantly flinched and looked above me to see what it was. Small floating trees were silently coming out of the thickness of the forest and hovering slowly along before rising high into the dense canopy of leaves and fur above and disappearing within it. Their many brown roots hung down below them, and they appeared to have no trunk as above the roots leafy branches fanned out around a central dome, which sat in its center and seemed to contain something small and dark green inside it. Their oddest feature, I thought, was that in the spot where the roots became branches, a solitary, circular eye unblinkingly wa
tched us all.

  “You were saying?” Iris grinned, gently elbowing me in the gut.

  “Yeah, that must have been it,” I lied, deciding to keep the persistent feeling to myself after all.

  “These, students,” began Mr. Sylva in his gruff monotone as he turned to face us, “are Heesters. They rest and socialize deep within the darkness of the forest, communicating with each other via brainwaves, attuned to a frequency only they can hear. The only time they venture out of darkness is to feed, whereby they will float upward in areas where foliage is thinnest to soak up the rays of the nearby star above.”

  “Do they bite, sir?” asked a winged Volo girl in front of me.

  “You will find, dear girl, that no creature in Brattea will harm you,” replied Mr. Sylva, as if having told us for the very first time. “Let us keep moving, students. We have almost reached the Brattean village.”

  The air had now become so thick, so heavy, it was difficult to breathe, and I found myself sweating through my vest. The path we walked on was narrower and smaller than the others had been, as the underbrush spewed onto it from both sides. The reeds and stalks at times glowed blue and white, at other times purple and red, expanding or contracting as we made contact with them.

  Finally, we reached the end of the long path and stepped into a clearing. Ahead, the surrounding bushes and trees encircled an area whose ground was covered in red, yellow, brown, and purple leaves and fluff. Slightly to the right, a narrow stream ran from somewhere over the far right of the clearing toward the middle, then turned sharply up to the back and beyond the thick undergrowth.

  A single, thin blade of golden light descended at an angle with a multitude of dust motes dancing within it. The beam shone on a circle of gray trees that, together, looked like a single, bigger tree, the top of which disappeared into the canopy above.

  “Come forward, students,” said Mr. Sylva, having already done so himself, as he stood just inside the clearing. “Try to be as quiet and calm as possible,” he continued while we filed in. “Now, as you proceed, take care not to disturb anything above or below you, and do not touch anything. The Bratteans are a very placid species, but they may easily become startled by your presence. I shall lead the way. Wait for my signal and walk carefully up to me and stand next to each other beside me.”

  With that, Mr. Sylva stepped slowly forward, taking care not to send uprooted soil flying everywhere, until he stood a short distance from the clump of trees. He waved us in with his long, root-like fingers, and one by one we ambled toward him.

  As I looked over, I saw tiny shapes moving around the lower half of the circle of trees and at their base. The closer I got, the clearer and better I saw them until I finally reached the semi-circle Mr. Sylva and the rest of the students had created just a few steps away from the trees themselves.

  The Bratteans were no taller than a Sphere ball, had two arms, two legs and a round head with a round nose, all of which made them look like twisty, light brown, and dark yellow-green wooden bulbs. Around their twisty bodies, they had brown vines wrapped around parts of their arms, legs, torsos and faces. Straight, dark green leaves rose above their heads, which seemed far too big for their bodies.

  All around, the Bratteans went about their business, sweeping the floors of the little cabins they’d built around the trunks of the trees, lazing in their tiny hammocks that hung from the outer walls of their houses to the trees themselves, or collecting water from the stream. They walked slowly but steadily, as if daydreaming.

  As Iris tightly squeezed my arm and bit her lip to stop herself from hurling herself at the Bratteans, Mr. Sylva explained, “Look here, students.” He pointed to the base of the tree where a group of the tiny beings had gathered. “They are collecting the ostrin nut, which, as you can see, is a round, purple nut. It falls from the trees that share its name, and is only ripe for a short time every solar cycle. So the Bratteans must gather and consume as many as they can before they hibernate once more. They spend ninety-five percent of their existence slumbering, so we are very fortunate to see them in their state of animation.”

  At the base of the trees, around a dozen Bratteans were busily searching through the foliage of leaves and fur or in between their thick roots. Very suddenly, one of them twitched and its entire body briefly became out of focus, like a very low resolution image, before returning to its original sharpness once again. From behind, another Brattean accidentally bumped into it, causing all the nuts it’d gathered to drop to the ground.

  The Brattean twitched again, this time remaining in focus, and abruptly turned around. It grabbed the other of its kind by its shoulders and forcibly pushed it down. There was something in the way it moved that was unlike the rest. Its movements were almost mechanized and automatic.

  The other Brattean, who now sat on the ground propped up by its round, wooden hands, and its legs splayed in front of it, looked up at its companion, befuddled.

  Standing above it, the twitching Brattean took a couple of steps forward and then savagely attacked the other, beating its head and body with its fists as it continued to sit with a look of confusion in its eyes.

  I looked around at the other students and teacher, but none of them seemed to be shocked or worried by what was happening. Not even Iris, who continued to squeeze my arm with excitement, seemed disturbed by the event.

  Suddenly, the twitching Brattean let out a deep, croaking roar, and placed its hands on either side of its head in apparent pain. It twisted and contorted its body as it continued to howl. As it did so, the color of its entire body changed from its earthly tones to a dark crimson red, and it grew. First, its legs became twice their size and bulk, then the trunk of its body, followed by its arms. It’s head, however, seemed to remain the same size it’d been.

  As it growled and roared, it once again approached the sitting Brattean, grabbed its head with its now much larger hands, and yanked it completely off its body. Strangely, its headless companion’s body remained in the same position as it’d been, with its body still propped up by its hands and its legs splayed out in front of it. Even its eyes continued blinking in surprise as the growing, twisting Brattean held its head in its hands before violently throwing it to the ground.

  With each moment that passed, the Brattean grew larger and angrier. He ripped up roots, stomped on others of its kind who continued to gather nuts, seemingly unaware of the threat, and smashed the tiny homes around the trees. The Brattean had become so tall it’d almost reached my size.

  As aggressive as the situation had become, however, none of the students or Mr. Sylva seemed aware of it, delightfully looking on in wonder as the teacher continued giving facts about Brattean storage methods.

  The crimson monster’s height and bulk now easily outmatched a Morex, and fear gripped me. Keeping my gaze fixed on it, I grabbed Iris’ arm and began slowly walking away.

  “We have to go, Iris—now.”

  “Huh?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at me with an air of confusion. “What are you talking about? Where do you want to go?”

  My gaze was still fixed on the enlarged Brattean, who now held its hands above its much smaller head as if in search of it, and roared.

  “Iris, let’s go,” I insisted, trying to keep my voice as low as possible, so as not to draw attention.

  “I don’t think Mr. Sylva will let us just leave, Seven. Besides, I want to stay to look at the Bratteans. Aren’t they just so cute?” she said, biting her lip again. She freed herself of my grip and then turned back round.

  I felt so confused. Iris’ behaviour, along with everyone else’s, made no sense. Why could they not see what was happening? Was I really the only one who could?

  As I wondered whether I was hallucinating, they all jerked their heads in unison, as if something had suddenly startled them. It seemed as though the veil that had covered their eyes had lifted, and they could now see the roaring, crimson Brattean in front of them. All at once, they screamed in fear. Hearing this,
the monstrous beast turned to face us as if it, too, had only just been made aware of our presence.

  Looking even more enraged, it roared louder than it had before. We all scrambled to escape out of the clearing toward the vessel.

  “Run, students!” exclaimed Mr. Sylva, extending his arms to his sides as he stood in front of the now much larger Brattean.

  Along the paths we fumbled and ran to the sounds of furious roars echoing all around the trees. Increasingly louder snapping and crashing sounds carried in the air, and finally the vessel came into sight. After reaching the clearing, I turned back to see tree after tree falling in a line toward us. The crimson beast was coming.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  AS THE VESSEL DOOR opened after having lowered its ramp, we all clambered aboard. I looked around me to confirm we’d all managed to escape. The other students urgently screamed at the pilots to take off before the gigantic creature reached us.

  A moment later, a smooth whirring from behind me indicated the door had begun to close. I was aware that Mr. Sylva was still out there, and turning back to face the door, I saw no sign of him in the clearing below. Without hesitation, I leaped toward the glass partition and then banged on it with both hands.

  “Hey! Open the door. Mr. Sylva is still out there! Do you hear me? He’s still out there! Open the door!”

  “Student number 7. What is the meaning of all this commotion?” The all-too-familiar monotone of Mr. Sylva came from somewhere behind me.

  I instantly turned to see him standing on the right aisle, inside his mobile unit again. He had a look of detached aloofness as if nothing had, or still was, happening. Trying to make sense of how he could have reached the vessel before the rest of us, I asked, “Mr. Sylva, how were you able to escape?”

  “Sorry?” replied the teacher, a look of confusion falling across his squinting eyes as his gaze darted all over.

  This wasn’t the time for his absent-mindedness. “The red mutating Brattean, sir. How did you escape it?”