TIM, Defender of the Earth

by Sam Enthoven

  He paused. Sheesh. He’d got this far. He might as well say it all now.

  ‘The important thing is,’ he said, ‘I think there might be a way we can help him.’

  ‘How?’ asked Anna.

  ‘The night when Tim appeared,’ said Chris, ‘I was out with my folks in our car. He looked at us, and the bracelet started glowing and I . . . I felt something. I felt I understood him: I could feel what he was feeling. And I think, you know, maybe, well . . .’ He paused again and said, ‘If we all felt . . . something back – then maybe he might feel it too.’

  ‘What in heaven’s name are you blathering about?’ asked Mr Sinclair.

  You must unite Earth’s population behind the Defender (Chris remembered) so our power can be there for him when he needs it. You, Chris, must join the world . . .

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Chris miserably. ‘But I think . . .’

  He had to say it. There was no way to escape it.

  ‘I – I think what it is,’ he stammered, ‘is that Tim needs us all to believe in him.’

  There.

  There was a short silence.

  ‘I’ve never,’ said the prime minister, amazed, ‘heard such a load of utter drivel in all my life. Young man, I don’t know if it’s escaped your notice, but we do have something of a situation going on here. This young lady’s father is threatening the whole of London, and here you are rattling on about . . . magic bracelets!’

  Chris hung his head.

  ‘Let’s try it,’ said Anna quietly.

  ‘What?’ said the prime minister.

  ‘I said, let’s try it!’ said Anna. ‘I’m going to do as Chris says.’ She looked around the room. ‘Who’s with us?’

  There was another short silence while the assembled bigwigs exchanged a long look.

  ‘What, er,’ said Wythenshawe – going pale because he knew that everyone was staring at him – ‘what do you want us to do?’

  ‘How’s it work, Chris?’ asked Anna. ‘Do we need to hold hands or what?’

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ muttered the prime minister – and for once, Chris felt he agreed with him. Could this whole situation get any more uncool? Was that even possible?

  ‘I, ah, I don’t know,’ he said.

  ‘Well, do you think holding hands would help?’ Anna pursued, taking charge.

  ‘It can’t hurt,’ said Wythenshawe. ‘Frankly, at this point, I think we should be prepared to try pretty much anything.’ He stepped forward, took Anna’s hand and reached for Chris’s.

  Reluctantly, Chris held his hand out.

  ‘Now, come on, everybody,’ said Anna. ‘Let’s give this a shot.’

  ‘No way,’ said the prime minister. ‘There is no way that I’m going to get involved in this . . . charade.’

  ‘I’ll do it,’ said the head of the Royal Air Force. He gestured at the screens. ‘I’ve seen what Mallahide’s capable of. I’m with Wythenshawe and the young lady. Since nobody else has any other suggestions, we might as well give this a go.’

  ‘Very well,’ said the commander of the navy, stepping forward grimly. ‘But I just want to make it clear: this whole business is very embarrassing and had better never go outside this room. Understood?’

  Sheepishly, three or four of the other people in the room walked over to join hands with the little group surrounding the prime minister.

  ‘You’ve all gone barking mad,’ Mr Sinclair opined.

  ‘OK,’ said Anna. ‘Now what?’

  ‘Er . . .’ said Chris.

  ‘I guess we just concentrate on sending Tim some, like, good vibes,’ said Anna brightly. ‘Right?’

  ‘Good vibes,’ said Chris miserably. ‘Right.’

  The prime minister made a snorting sound in his nose.

  ‘OK,’ said Anna, ignoring him utterly, ‘here we go, then. Everybody concentrate.’

  Silence fell in the Crisis Room.

  Chris was doing his best, but it was difficult. There he was, standing in a row, holding hands with a bunch of people he’d never met before: this was somehow supposed to save the dinosaur currently out there under the London night, fighting for its life against a swarm of all-consuming super-intelligent nanomachines. The situation was beyond ridiculous: it was insane. If someone had told him a week ago that this was what was going to happen, he would have laughed them out of the room.

  But . . . he had felt that connection that night in the car.

  He didn’t want Tim to lose.

  The seconds ticked away.

  ‘Chris . . .’ said Anna sadly. ‘I’m sorry. I was wrong. I don’t think this is—’

  ‘Shhhhhh,’ said Chris. ‘Wait.’

  He thought he was imagining it at first. But the bracelet was becoming warmer, and now – yes! – just like before, that night in the car, now it was starting to glow.

  ‘Anna,’ he said, and his voice came out strangely quavery. ‘Anna, I think it’s—’

  ‘I can see! Oh, Chris—!’ She stopped herself. ‘Come on, quiet now, we’ve got to concentrate.’

  Chris noticed an odd fluttery feeling: tendrils of warmth and excitement were spreading out through his ribs, radiating out through his arms and legs and making his head go light and whizzy. At the same time, the bracelet was growing brighter every moment, taking on a weird undersea greenish-yellow light that quickly expanded until the whole of the room seemed to be filled with it.

  Chris looked up at Tim’s slumped body lying in front of Westminster Abbey, still swamped under the crawling black layer of annihilating machines.

  ‘Come on, everybody. We can do it!’ Anna commanded.

  Something strange was happening to Chris behind his eyes. It was a little like the feeling he’d had when he’d woken up that morning after the bracelet had first been put on him: a weird, bulging, swelling sensation, like his brain was growing too big for his skull. There was an opening sensation at the back of his head. A connection was forming, coming straight up through the soles of his feet – and something . . . something was coming through.

  The bracelet burned brighter.

  The hands holding his held tighter.

  And then . . .

  Then it happened.

  Something old and vast seemed to take hold of him and shake him, rushing roaring racing shrieking bursting. Every nerve and sinew in his body seemed to swell with power until it threatened to explode – but then, instead, it relaxed. At the same instant, the bracelet’s glow flared to an intolerable brightness. And on the screens, out there under the London night . . .

  Instead of giving up, Tim opened his mouth –

  – and reathed. column of blinding whiteness split the night sky like a lightning bolt.

  Tim – and the rest of the world – watched, eyes wide with amazement, as wherever Tim looked the column of whiteness followed. It struck the Mallahide swarm – and the swarm was driven back, shrivelling into nothingness under the sudden and incredible glare, the blast of unstoppable force, that was coming (Tim realized at about the same time as everyone else did) from Tim’s own mouth.

  He had breathed in air: he was breathing out light – light and a living energy of such concentrated power that Professor Mallahide suddenly found he had to pull himself clear before it wiped him from the face of existence.

  Tim sat up, clean of the nanomachines now – and the blast of his breath travelled straight up into the main body of the swarm. The machines caught directly in the path of the blast vanished instantly into nothingness – and even when, at last, Tim’s great exhalation ended, for several seconds afterwards tens of billions more of Mallahide’s nanobots continued to flare briefly and expire where its edges had passed.

  Gathering the tattered remains of his swarm – half of it had been lost! – Mallahide fled, scattering into the four corners of the night.

  Woozy, stunned, bleeding all over, Tim got to his feet. He bellowed, in a mixture of defiance, amazement and confusion. Then he staggered back to the Thames, splashed into
the water and set off in the direction he had come.

  There was silence.

  ‘What—?’ the prime minister spluttered finally. ‘What the hell just happened there?’

  ‘We did it!’ said Anna. Letting go of the military bigwigs whose hands she’d been holding, she turned to Chris and threw her arms around him, jumping up and down with excitement.

  Chris grinned weakly, then collapsed.

  DEVASTATION

  TIM SWAM AS far as he could: swam until his battered forearms stopped paddling and his poor, wrenched tail stopped going from side to side. Then he gave up and sank into the depths.

  ‘Well, well, well,’ said a voice presently. ‘Let me guess: things didn’t go quite like you expected?’

  ‘He was so strong,’ said Tim, feeling like he wanted to cry. ‘And so mean! I grabbed him, bit him, lifted things up and hit him with them – but whatever I did, he just . . took no notice! He hit me and ow, it hurt! And then he picked me up by the tail and threw me. And then he turned himself into lots of horrible little biting and stinging things, and then—’

  ‘Hush,’ said the Kraken. ‘Hush, little one. I was watching: I saw it all.’

  Tim fell silent.

  ‘Let me ask you a question,’ the Kraken said. ‘Did I ever tell you it was going to be easy, being the Defender of the Earth?’

  ‘No,’ Tim admitted. ‘But—’

  ‘Did I ever tell you that you couldn’t be hurt? That bad things couldn’t happen to you?’

  ‘No, you didn’t,’ said Tim. ‘But I had no idea he—’

  ‘Yes,’ the Kraken interrupted, ‘you had no idea. And that, you see, was no fault of mine.’ It paused. ‘You were too confident.’

  Tim said nothing.

  ‘You must learn caution,’ the Kraken told him. ‘By charging in headlong like that, you only succeeded in putting yourself in more danger. Forethought, cunning, discretion – those must be your watchwords. Otherwise you won’t live as a Defender of the Earth for even a quarter as long as I have.’

  For another moment Tim thought about what the Kraken was saying: he gave the words the most thorough consideration he could. Then –

  ‘No,’ he said – now very angry. ‘No, I’m sorry, that just won’t do at all. I have just come back from a colossal battle, one that almost killed me – and you know what? I want a bit of sympathy and kindness. I want you to be nice to me,’ Tim emphasized, warming to his theme, ‘because I was scared, and it hurt, and I don’t understand what’s going on! And what do I get from you now that I’ve come back? A lecture!

  ‘I’m not like you,’ Tim added, shaking his head. ‘I’m not the kind of Defender of the Earth who just sits at the bottom of the sea: I fight! I grab things and bite them! And you know what I think?’

  ‘Do tell,’ said the Kraken wearily.

  ‘I think my way is better than yours.’

  Tim paused, but he’d said it now and he knew it could not be taken back.

  ‘When you showed me the world,’ he went on, ‘I noticed something. You didn’t show me what you’d been doing all that time, did you? You know why I think that was? Because I don’t think you did anything. You were a lousy Defender of the Earth,’ he spat. ‘You just sat here and – and watched! Well? Am I wrong?’

  ‘Yes, you’re wrong,’ said the Kraken equably. ‘Maybe not about all of it, but you’re at least wrong about that.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’ said Tim.

  ‘I did my bit,’ the Kraken told him, ‘just . . . in my own way. I adjusted things to keep the whole operation running: a tectonic shift here, a change of the Gulf Stream there. Believe me’ – Tim felt the Kraken’s amusement in his mind – ‘the Earth would be in a much worse state without me playing my part behind the scenes. But as to whether your approach is better than mine . . . well, who knows? Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps what the world needs right now really is someone who’ll charge in blindly like a fool. At any rate,’ it concluded, ‘it doesn’t matter now.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Tim, suddenly nervous.

  ‘You did it,’ said the Kraken. ‘Or at least, you did enough. The channel was opened. Your power – the power of every living thing in this world – was granted. Now, truly, you are the Defender of the Earth. And now,’ it added, ‘at last, I can die in peace.’

  ‘What?’ said Tim.

  ‘I told you,’ said the Kraken. ‘There can only be one of us. From this point on, you’re on your own. You’re the one with the power now. I’d tell you to use it wisely, but as you’ve pointed out, what would I know about it? After all, I’ve only been defending the earth for the last nine million years . . .’

  In his mind Tim could hear the Kraken carry on, but it was muttering to itself. The words ‘young whelp’ (grumble, grumble) and ‘show some respect’ came out clearly enough, but the muttering and grumbling were fading in strength as if their origin was . . . going away.

  ‘W-wait a second!’ said Tim. ‘You can’t go now!’

  The muttering stopped abruptly. ‘Oh, really?’ said the Kraken. ‘And why not, may I ask?’

  ‘You can’t leave me here on my own like this!’ said Tim. ‘I – I don’t know what I’m doing!’

  ‘On the contrary,’ said the Kraken. ‘I think you already know exactly what you have to do. Hmm?’

  Tim said nothing.

  ‘Yes,’ said the Kraken. ‘Mallahide. You surprised him, but you did not defeat him. You must face him again. And this time you must finish him.’

  ‘But . . . I can’t!’ said Tim, panicking again. ‘He took everything I threw at him! I bit his arm off and he just . . . grew himself another one! And if it hadn’t been for what happened at the end there, I . . .’

  ‘Yes?’ said the Kraken.

  ‘I was about to . . .’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I was – well, I was going to give up,’ said Tim. He hung his head. ‘When I was lying out there, under the stars, I didn’t feel like the Defender of the Earth. Before that thing with my breath, I just . . . felt like . . .’

  ‘Like you’d failed,’ said the Kraken for him. ‘It’s all right. I know.’

  ‘You do?’ asked Tim, surprised.

  ‘There’s no shame in that,’ the Kraken told him.

  ‘There isn’t?’

  ‘Not at all. Tim . . .’ The Kraken paused. ‘You can’t do everything by yourself. Sometimes you’re going to need help. And that’s why—’

  ‘So you’re staying?’ Tim interrupted. ‘You’re not going to die after all? That’s great!’ He was so happy, he started to thrash his tail.

  ‘No,’ said the Kraken heavily, ‘that’s not what I meant.’ Tim heard it sigh. ‘You’ve got a lot of good qualities, little one, but brains – it appears – aren’t one of them. Very well,’ it added, ‘let’s try and explain this another way.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Tim.

  ‘Let me tell you about the Defender that came before me – my predecessor,’ said the Kraken.

  ‘All right.’

  ‘Her name was Arachne. She was a powerful Defender, subtle and wise, and long ago, long before my time, she had a vision. Arachne foresaw that one day a new race of creatures would emerge. These creatures would have great power because they would have consciousness: they would be able to think for themselves, like we do.’

  ‘The tiny people?’ guessed Tim.

  ‘That’s right,’ said the Kraken. ‘Now, Arachne found this vision very troubling. You see: what drives us, what gives Defenders their strength, is the life force of the world. And for all the millennia up to that point, the living things of the Earth had supplied that life force unthinkingly. There had been no question of “permission” before because there had been no creature with sufficient intelligence, sufficient intellect, to think to give permission or withhold it. But with the coming of humans that certainty was gone. Humans would have the ability to choose. And Arachne felt she could not truly be the Defender unless they were offered the chance to
exercise that choice for themselves. Do you understand me so far?’

  ‘Not really,’ Tim admitted.

  ‘Never mind for now,’ said the Kraken, ‘just listen. Arachne came up with an answer. She created a device. This device would act as a focal point for the life-force energy, concentrating and magnifying its power. You saw one of the effects this focusing can have tonight.’

  ‘Oh! The thing when I breathed!’ said Tim.

  ‘That power,’ said the Kraken sternly, ‘is the strongest thing on this Earth. It is nothing less than the wellspring of life: the source of the random mutations that cause life to evolve and develop. Focused and amplified, that power can be intensely destructive. Used with care, however, it could be employed against your enemy somewhat . . . differently.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Mallahide is out of control. Unchecked, his swarm will eat the world – turning all it touches into more of itself, imposing his conformity on everything. You saw this in your vision.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Tim. ‘But—’

  ‘But nothing!’ said the Kraken. ‘Will you shut up and listen? This is crucial.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Tim.

  ‘Focused through the device – focused through you – the life energy becomes a force for instantaneous change. I believe that if you direct that force properly it will disrupt Mallahide’s control, counteract the conformity he imposes, and return the swarm and its elements to a healthy randomness once more. Those he has consumed may even be released unharmed: breathe your chaos upon him,’ the Kraken emphasized, ‘and your enemy will fall.’ It paused. ‘But. . .’

  ‘But what?’ asked Tim.

  ‘The other function of Arachne’s device is as a way of giving the humans their choice. The device must be worn by a representative among them. And the decision over whether the power can be used will rest with that human. Actually,’ the Kraken went on, a little ruefully, ‘because of that, when I became Defender the first thing I did was throw the device away.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I did not think humans should control our power,’ said the Kraken. ‘I did not believe they had – or ever would have – the necessary judgement and wisdom to take on that kind of responsibility. So I cast the device deep into the rock of the Earth’s upper mantle. For many years it lay there. The humans never even knew it existed, and I continued my work as Defender in my own way – discreetly. Until one day it was my turn to foresee something.’