The Time Pacer: An Alien Teen Fantasy Adventure (The Time Bender Book 2)

by Debra Chapoton

  “It’s your dad and my grandfather.” Selina’s voice was wobbly, like she was awestruck. I hoped this didn’t put her into one of her episodes. I didn’t sense the usual I’m-about-to-freak-out sensation that I always picked up on, but I took her hand again anyway, more out of affection than alarm. This whole physical aspect to our relationship was new and though it was what I’ve wanted for a long time I was cautious and shy.

  “Maybe this makes us heroes,” I said and gently squeezed her fingers.

  “Hardly,” Coreg said.

  His voice surprised me and I dropped Selina’s hand. I didn’t know where he popped up from, but I suspected he wanted to startle us. He must have known all along that we were going to be honored and not … eaten … or anything else bad. “Your lineage has been verified by your blood samples.” He turned toward the small crowd and made a gesture followed by a loud squawk and several more Klaqin words. He said something else in that strange tongue full of rhythmic vowels and syllables that repeated like drumbeats. A low decibel cheer went up. I really, really hoped that meant what I thought it meant. Coreg kept his expression neutral, but fidgeted with his thumb ring.

  I’ve always been suspicious of fidgeters.

  CHAPTER 2

  ♫ …somewhere over the rainbow… ♫

  QUITE INTERESTING TO find out they have parades on far distant planets in far distant galaxies. We were pushed gently past curious people, all males it seemed, and out through transparent liquid doors, like that window—and we didn’t get wet. The cluster followed us, chattering, clicking their tongues, and laughing—a very musical laughter—and crying too. We marched through a hive of a town, something that looked more like ants or wasps had built it rather than advanced humans, like they’d built mud huts near the waters then plopped them here. Some were a one story, but most were ten or twelve stories high, wet and smashed-looking, brown and rough. Many looked abandoned. Pale shadowy people stood at the openings, their faces dotted with fear or wonder, I couldn’t tell which. Between the buildings the sorrow of the landscape peeked through. They’d been bombed. Our route took us around the destruction.

  The road was soft and wet, easy to walk on, but there was no sign of vehicles. Every twenty feet or so there were see-through manhole covers, but nothing to see underground.

  I tried to take in the faces of the gawkers lined along the way. At first I thought there was a single race, but as I studied them—pretty sure Selina was bending the time so we could take it all in—I could distinguish groups by skin colors or dominant facial features. But maybe I was projecting my own prejudices; maybe there was only a single race—and Selina and I, with my tan and her pinkish blue glow, would still fit in. Anyway, everyone looked healthy, not thin, not fat, though half had round faces. They wore similar styles of colorful, striped clothing, mostly tight-fitting with objects stuck to their sleeves and thighs like inside-out pockets. A few had flowing over-garments. Men greatly outnumbered women.

  “Is the air bothering you?” Selina asked. She hiccupped and covered her mouth.

  “No. You?” The people we passed made funny throat gulps and covered their mouths. I sniffed. A spicy but bitter scent hung in the air. And something else, a little sharper.

  “Uh-huh, a little, but I feel lighter, like I might float away. Like a dream.” She waved her free hand up and out. A sea of hands around us did the same.

  I heard the drums long before they came into sight. The beating echoed in my skull, as though it were hollow. The sound traveled through the crowd too then abruptly stopped.

  “Yeah, this is a bit much. Look,” I nodded toward a park-like setting, our apparent destination. I didn’t want to point and have them all mimic me too. A few of the children were running ahead to reach the trees. Yeah, trees. Like on Earth, but more fragile and … just sort of wussy. Paler greens.

  There were other similarities to home: on this warm and windless afternoon I detected a buzzing sound like cicadas and imagined they were hidden in the weeds, the pink weeds, along the road.

  Walking through this place, so unearthly and yet so familiar that the borders between dream and reality seemed lost, I thought we might still be on the starship, suffering some illusion in the space alley. Then the ground heaved and a platform rose before us. We stopped while a group of six imposing men were carried upward on the rising stage.

  “I wonder who they are.”

  Coreg, who was directly behind Selina, answered, “Those are First Commanders, our leaders. First Commander Cotay will speak. I will translate for him.”

  I wiped my forehead and glanced skyward, above the heads of the men on the platform. Blue, the sky was blue, a familiar blue at least. The sun seemed more like a bright incandescent light than a ball of fire. I didn’t need to shield my eyes; I couldn’t feel any warm summer heat on my face, but the temperature was pleasant. I knew from my dad’s stories that every day would be similar on this side of the planet. A flying insect lighted on my sleeve and clung, long enough for me to see the fleecy scales on its wing and the tiny curled nose on its scabby head. Its mid-section pulsed, expanding and contracting to its wing-beats. Before Selina saw it I flicked it hard and it flew off.

  I felt the edge of one of Selina’s time-bends. She was allowing us to experience this lengthened moment to the fullest.

  The guards stepped back, forming a horseshoe behind us. Clicks came from either their heels or their lips or their fingers, maybe all three. I didn’t have time to think what that might mean, I was too busy swallowing hard as bile kept rising up my throat. I was on the verge of throwing up and acutely aware of how violently my heart was beating. We were the aliens here.

  One of the First Commanders stepped forward. He had chipmunk cheeks, plenty of wrinkles, and long dark hair pulled into a knot at the base of his neck. Flesh hung under his chin like a bloodhound. If he’d been in a suit I would’ve assumed he was an aged rock star turned politician, but he, like the other First Commanders, wore a tight-fitting garment similar to a diver’s wet suit, the same fashion worn by some in the crowd. He spoke. I assumed he was listing names. I heard “Enrimmon” which was close to my last name. I noticed two women weeping and some of the guards wiped tears away. Then he continued with a long-winded incoherent speech full of clucking, grunting, and a few not unpleasant tones that reminded me of the guitar riffs in “Yellow” by Coldplay. For sure. Because this guy’s skin was that color. Look at the stars … they were all yellow.

  When he finished I felt a second edge to Selina’s time-bend. Coreg leaned between us and whispered a summary: “The remaining loyal citizens of Klaqin are pleased to welcome the offspring of valiant space warriors believed dead. You will receive honor and respect in our society. You will accept an inheritance provided by your closest Klaqin relatives.” Coreg mumbled something under his breath in his own language, then continued, “And you will live in the Fifth Commanders’ center until you become fluent in Klaqin. First Commander Cotay invites you for an audience in twenty double-moons’ time.”

  “That was all he said?” I held suspicions about Coreg. Either the First Commander said a lot more than that or Klaqin was one wordy language. And what did he mean by ‘remaining loyal citizens’? This whole parade was poorly attended. Maybe the Gleezhians had already pretty much annihilated their planet and our help was going to be futile.

  “Yes.” Coreg smiled at Selina and then at me in a way that was so insincere it practically hurt. “You must say yes now. The word is hotah. Look at him. Males speak first. The time-bender may speak as well. Do not add anything in English.”

  I looked at Selina and we mouthed hotah to one another. She’d changed so much in the last few days. She’d overcome that disabling part of her personality that made her want to avoid people, new situations, anything social, and she’d become … I couldn’t think of the word. Buoyant maybe. Looking at her confident face calmed me. A lot. The queasiness diminished. I turned toward their great leader, cleared my throat, and said, “Hotah.
” The leader clucked and made a grimace at Selina. She repeated the word as loudly as I had. Old chipmunk-cheeks grinned. That was a relief. A rousing shout went up from the crowd; I interpreted it as a cheer, but for all I knew it could have been a cry for supper. Maybe hotah meant something else entirely. I couldn’t bring myself to completely trust Coreg.

  There was another speech by the leader and I saw a small tail-less animal scurry up a tree behind him. Then the man next to him passed two items to Coreg. Rings. He in turn gave one to me and an identical one to Selina. She twirled hers then slipped it onto her thumb. Apparently everyone here wore one. It was marked with symbols and looked like it was made in a garage and not a jewelry store. Coreg explained that the thumb rings were a multi-purpose necessity: part wallet, time keeper, and remote control with other functions we’d learn later.

  The First Commanders left, Selina relaxed and the crowd lost interest in us, though I suspected, based on my dad’s old bedtime stories, that they had burdensome jobs to return to. A few curious bystanders waddled around the now empty space like pigeons looking for crumbs.

  Coreg took us past the clearing and guided us past the fascinated noses of the crowd, guards on all sides, down a winding set of stairs.

  “Cue the dark, foreboding music,” Selina said as it became harder to see the next step. We clasped hands; hers felt clammy. I felt a different responsibility … and something else: a nervous fear. At the bottom there were a few lights that brightened the cave-like room we entered. Too confining for my liking.

  “It’s a subway,” I said. I tried to think of something light and funny to add, but only music came to mind. Selina says I’m an idiot savant where old songs and lyrics are concerned and that I’m as addicted to music as she is to sugar. A classic Beatles song looped through my head but my lips stayed shut. Several sleek yellow ships, miniature versions of Coreg’s Intimidator, were lined up. These things didn’t fly, but they had wheels and I bet they followed the same routes as the roads above. My eyes adjusted and I could see tunnels heading off in different directions.

  “Stinks like galactic lard down here,” Selina said.

  Coreg grunted. He said something else, too, to the guards, and some of them left and went up the steps. But four climbed into the first ship which meant there was one to guard Selina and one—the olive-skinned guy—to stay on my heels. I heard a rumble, similar to the garbage disposal in the kitchen sink, and the first four guards disappeared down one of the tunnels.

  Olive-boy tapped me and waved an arm forward. I figured that meant the second transport was ours. There were six seats so Selina and I took the middle two and our guards sat behind us. Coreg sat alone in front facing what was obviously a map. He twisted his thumb ring, pressed one side of it into a small indentation in the front panel and then pressed a finger onto a white spot on the map. I expected to hear the same garbage disposal whirr, but nothing happened.

  “I sure hope we’re going to a restaurant,” Selina whispered. “I’m starving.”

  Coreg said, “You’re hungry?” Then he repeated something to the guards, who laughed. Apparently making fun of people was universal.

  “Yeah, I’m hungry, too,” I said. “What do you guys eat on this planet? Better not be bugs.”

  A whooshing noise filled the air then and another transport zipped into the space from the same tunnel our other guards had gone down. I didn’t get a chance to see who—or what—got out because our little ship grumbled and took off as soon as the tunnel was clear, pushing our bodies, necks, and heads firmly against the seats.

  “Not bugs,” Coreg snorted, “and not pie.” I didn’t get why he said that until Selina mumbled Marcum’s name. Right, I’d spied on Marcum at Selina’s house, eating what should have been my slice of her mom’s pie.

  We zoomed along for several quiet minutes. I was aware of wide turns and twice we dropped to lower levels. There was nothing to see, no ads on the walls, no windows to the outside, and then, an unexpected braking, we stopped.

  “Sheesh,” Selina complained, “this thing needs airbags.”

  The first four guards were waiting for us and we were ushered out and then up more steps. We came out into the bright day—not so bright that I needed to squint though—and I nearly fell over from what I saw. I let slip my awe with a few inappropriate words for which Selina automatically chastised me. Funny, we were on another planet, and we were falling into the same old habits.

  ♫ ♫ ♫

  COREG GRINNED WITH satisfaction. Both of these half-breeds—pathetic Earth beings—were clearly impressed by the spiraling structure that glistened wide open and airy before them. Windowless, but with plenty of screened openings for light and air, the Fifth Commanders’ housing unit was built of golden bricks and green railings. Individual pods reached skyward like ten story flowering shoots, sprung from the soft ground. Coreg pointed at the open bridges that connected the towers at alternating levels. “There,” he said, “is where I first fought Marcum. A bridge battle on the first day. Of course I won.” He glanced at his thumb ring and added, “That was over four hundred double-moons ago.”

  “This is where we’re staying?” Selina asked.

  “Alex will take Marcum’s place here. You will stay with the females in that last building.” He nodded past the golden towers toward a round one story pod. “It has room for all the exceptional females, Fifth level, from all over the planet. A small group this year. Ten with you. The Fourth level, equal to Fourth Commanders, has more. And then there are the girls brought in from the banishment areas. Females are more … subservient here than what I observed on Earth.”

  “Don’t burn your bra about it,” Alex whispered to Selina. Coreg frowned at the odd expression. He made a mental note to warn the school’s officials that these newcomers might have problems with fire.

  Coreg turned to the olive-faced guard and commanded something in Klaqin. The guard moved to Alex’s side and nudged him forward.

  “Hold on,” Alex stood firm, “you’re not splitting us up. Not yet, anyway. I’ll go with her to see her, uh, barracks. See that she’s safe and then come back.”

  Coreg made another harsh nasal sound.

  Alex ignored him. “And she’ll need a translator. I have you, but do any of the girls speak English?”

  “No, of course not. You will learn our language soon enough. You can be her translator.”

  “Well, why can’t she learn, too?”

  Coreg stood still, remembering how she had performed in the Earth school’s language lab. It came as a surprise that she might be able to learn Klaqin. He had ignored the differences of the females on Earth; he had thought it odd that they were schooled with the males, but hadn’t considered that they might be as teachable as a male. He made a soft guttural noise at the base of his throat, turned to the guard again, and spoke at length. The guard, in turn, commanded all but two of his small retinue back down the passageway to the underground transports.

  When Coreg turned his attention to Alex he saw that he was holding the time-bender’s hand again. It bothered him more than he expected. He had held that small hand for a few minutes on Earth, walking down a school hallway, immersed in their tribal culture. Now he felt frozen to the spot, unable to shift his eyes away from their connection. Oh, he realized, she was bending time again. He did a cerebral push-back, unlocked her hold over time, and rushed them forward.

  ♫ ♫ ♫

  “WHOA!” I DON’T know how that happened. One second most of the guards were leaving and the next second, or moon-beat or whatever they called it here, we were stepping up to the entrance of the girls’ building. Precisely seven songs about time going by too fast registered in the musical part of my mind, but not a single one fit an experience like this. It was one thing to time-pace in the spaceship and know you were hurtling faster—or rather sooner—through space; it was quite another to move a football field’s length across the ground on your own two feet in what felt like an instant.

  I ga
sped. The air couldn’t fill my lungs. It took a regular, old-fashioned minute to lose the dizzy feeling. Selina seemed all right though. I looked from her to the building.

  The windows and doors, unlike the sparkling boys’ castle, had glass in them. Or what appeared to be glass—it was probably that same element I stuck my hand through. Coreg grabbed Selina’s other hand, the one with the thumb ring, and showed her which symbol to press into a thumb ring reader at the entrance.

  I took a normal breath and said, “Do you have a lot of crime on this planet? I don’t understand why you have all this security when you can walk through glass or like at the guys’ place you don’t have doors or panes in the windows.” That had to be a fair question, but maybe his comprehension wasn’t so great with me rambling like that. He stared at me a while, no doubt measuring how much truth to tell me. He glanced at the two guards, one who was obviously assigned to me and one, a large-nosed big-eared freak, who didn’t take his eyes off Selina.

  “Yes, we have crime. I was caught for stealing. I evaded punishment by agreeing to use my special skill to fight in the Gleezhian Wars.”

  Aha. That little tidbit was going to get filed under “Useful Information to Remember.” I might be able to parlay my newfound time-pacing talent into a get-out-of-jail-free-card if I ever needed to.

  Coreg pushed Selina toward a group of girls who came rushing through the doorway like a flock of noisy seagulls. Her guard stepped up to follow, but didn’t cross the threshold. Something—something invisible—held him back.

  CHAPTER 3

  ♫ … too cool for school … ♫

  I WASN’T TOO happy about leaving Selina with nine giggling alien girls in dreadlocks and fancy braids who fawned over her like she was a rock star, petting her coat, touching her cheeks, and using that hotah word over and over, offering her things as her guard squinted down his nose at all of them. Coreg assured me the guards were for our protection, that we weren’t prisoners, but rather honored luapen which meant travelers or guests.