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

by Debra Chapoton

  “Hey, guys, let’s make like a truce or something.” That got their attention. Maybe English was the way to go. “Come on, I’m on your side. Ever hear of Earth? Or Marc Marcum? Or the famous time-bender?” I grinned then and just because I liked the truth of it I added, “She’s my girlfriend.” I wanted to glance back to see if Coreg was visible, but I didn’t. I wasn’t stupid.

  Not one of them responded to me. So I guess English was out.

  We reached the pond and marched into it. Splish, splash. An oldie but goodie flit through my head. “Dudes, really—” I switched to Klaqin, “Have you heard of Selina?” Of course it came out as Hear Selina? I was doing a pretty respectable job of keeping my cool. I knew I should be panicked and frightened by Gleezhians, but their marching me into the water like this had more of a day-at-the-beach atmosphere. Like I was trapped in the middle of a group of girls making their way through the shallows. Rotting leaves, dead fish—or something like fish—and warm mud held a feeling of lurking strangeness. “Hear Selina?” I said again.

  “Selina!” The first dude got pretty excited about her name. He repeated it a couple more times and the others echoed him. I swear one of them giggled like a girl. Their grip on my arms loosened, but then tightened up as we went deeper into the pond.

  I heard something else then, whispered on the faintest of breezes in the voice of my nemesis, Coreg: “Hold your breath and keep your eyes open.” English with a Klaqin accent. Coreg was stalking us. Probably on his belly like a snake.

  I’ve always had exceptional hearing and these Gleezhian dudes didn’t react to Coreg’s barely audible order so I had to assume they didn’t hear him. I started hyperventilating as we went from knee deep to waist deep to neck deep, preparing myself. In a synchronized thrust my guards lunged forward and down. I had the presence of mind—and Coreg’s instruction—to take a deep breath, hold it, and then pace. I don’t think I would have lasted if I hadn’t paced. I’m not a bad swimmer, but I had to force myself to open my eyes. The clarity amazed me. We flutter-kicked toward a solid clear door behind which shone a colorful room filled with odd contraptions and several more Gleezhians, hairy ones. Some shaped more like women, and not as hairy. Crap, I realized the eight who captured me were probably women, too. Or worse, girls. My time-pacing stopped on its own.

  We moved through the door without opening it. They had some awesome elements on this planet. Too bad Marcum’s plan involved blowing most of it up.

  The Gleezhians let go of me as soon as we stood on a solid, dry surface. I wiped the pond water from my face with my sleeve. I expected my boots and uniform to feel soggy, but they didn’t. The hairiest of the male Gleezhians eyed me and began a speech that sent my eight captors scurrying away. Yup, they were chicks. And I wished I could run away with them. Nervous goose flesh rippled up my neck. I stood steady and watchful, weight on my back foot, ready.

  ♫ ♫ ♫

  SELINA’S NEW UNCLE stood on one side of her while Marcum’s father, Pauro, trembled on her left. Pauro spoke softly, stretching out the syllables of his statement. Selina scrunched her eyebrows, silently interpreting Pauro’s words, then looked to Esko.

  “He’s telling you to stay calm. If he seems nervous to you it is because Krimar and Pauro are new to our group. We’ve been organizing right under their noses for quite some time. They’ve recently given their allegiance to us. Much easier to supply the nansa with food than to fight off marauding groups of them.”

  Selina nodded and tried her best to relax her lips which had begun to press tightly together as she discerned Esko’s lie. She lifted her brow to release the wrinkles and look innocent. The limited Klaqin vocabulary at her command had been enough to translate Pauro’s words for herself. He hadn’t been telling her to stay calm. He’d been saying that Marcum would return for her. Strange that Uncle Esko didn’t want her to know that.

  She sensed a seizure coming on and it was Alex, not Marcum, who she wanted to come for her.

  She succumbed to the urge to time-bend, but nothing happened. Her power to manipulate time wouldn’t work in this underground cavern. She stood perfectly still and resisted the seizure that often preceded or followed one of her episodes. Thinking of Alex helped.

  “You look pale, Selina. You must rest,” Esko said.

  He’d spoken in false tones, Selina thought. She’d listened to Alex explain and demonstrate music theory so many times that she could identify a minor chord when she heard it. Esko’s voice struck her that way. She had trusted Marcum; she trusted his parents, but should she trust Esko, uncle or not?

  “I am kind of tired. I’d been lying down when all the commotion … up there … began. This is all very overwhelming.”

  “Commotion?”

  “The gun fire. And then something blew up.”

  Esko’s face puckered then relaxed.

  “Follow me.” He gave a dismissive signal to Pauro and led Selina out of the cavern and into a narrow wet-walled stone corridor. They passed several double-arched passages. As they walked he explained, “We’ve been under siege since the First Commanders lost the moon battles. Our fleets have been decimated. Thousands upon thousands. Treaties have been made and broken. There are resistance movements, pseudo governments, rogue warriors, traitors, infiltrators, secret groups, and banished Klaqins in settlements near the cold, sunless dark Edge of the planet. Worst of all there are Gleezhian settlements popping up in our sacred farming communities. Right here.” His voice had risen and Selina believed his passion. Perhaps she could trust him. What he said matched much of what Marcum had told her though he had never mentioned the fact that Gleezhians lived on this planet. She couldn’t imagine how that would be allowed.

  “How … how can there be Gleezhians living here?”

  “We had peace treaties. We allowed an exchange of citizenry. But it’s been a generation of no contact with the thousands of volunteers we sent to their planet. The Gleezhians who came to live here had to be—” he paused and clucked his tongue, “—had to be eliminated early on, or turned into slaves. There are hidden groups of escaped slaves who have made connections with Klaqin sympathizers, relatives of the early volunteers. And then there are the refugees: groups that have stolen ships and crashed here. It’s a complicated history.”

  Selina suspected she’d never understand the politics of it all, but she remembered how desperate Coreg and Marcum had been to kidnap her—all for a chance to win the war through her unique gift.

  “I’m anxious to help, Uncle Esko. Our plan, uh, Marcum and Coreg’s plan was to use me in coordination with Coreg’s time-pacing to battle the Gleezhian spaceships. Did you hear how we took out twenty-one, well, eighteen in one battle with only—?”

  “Yes, yes. I know. We must work out a plan.” He stopped at a barred door. “Here. Rest in here. Rest and eat.” He removed the bar and opened the door with a large key he drew out of a pouch at his waist. An impressive and intimidating key, more like a weapon, she thought. It must have been at least six inches long, with a round handle decorated with a geometric pattern and a sharp razor-thin edge. Probably weighed a pound. The thick door swung inward silently and he ushered her through. Then, without another word, he left her alone and closed the door loudly behind him.

  Being left by herself so suddenly and unceremoniously unnerved Selina. The room was dark gray and growing darker as she stood next to a low bed of pillows. She moved a step closer and the room brightened. Motion sensors, she thought. The mound of pillows was no temptation. Nor was the long thin bottle that no doubt was filled with the same milky liquid that Renzen had given her when she first met the Klaqin girls.

  Locked in a rock room. She couldn’t imagine relaxing under these circumstances.

  “Hashtag prisoner,” she said aloud. Everywhere she’d been on this planet or in space she’d been under guard or hemmed in by walls or people. She rubbed where the thumb ring had been. Her hand ached. The icy blue tint to the skin on her hands was gone. That wasn’t unusual; she coul
d pink up under different conditions, but now her hands looked green. Pale green. Like some of the girls she met, and like Alex’s cousin Rander.

  “What would you sing, Alex?” she mumbled to herself as the room began to darken again. She took a step toward the door and the room grew brighter. She tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. “Not liking this!” She paced around the room, touching along the walls until she came to a spot that was soft and her hand punched through.

  ♫ ♫ ♫

  I COULDN’T UNDERSTAND one syllable of Mr. Hairy Gleezhian’s tirade. His eyes were like bullets, small, round, and a dark, shiny blue. They were sunk in heavy cheeks whose slopes were shaggy with coarse black hair. He definitely spewed nasty words, but all I could do was try to act innocent and weak and stupid. I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head every time he paused. I sure didn’t want to chance offering myself for lunch. Four more Gleezhians standing behind various pieces of equipment looked hungry, but they didn’t move during the hairy guy’s rant. I assumed most of what he said was directed toward the fleeing Gleezhian girls since he yelled at them before turning his attention to me. His volume was still on a crescendo high, but he slowed his speech measurably. Didn’t matter, though, the number of Gleezhian words I knew was almost zero.

  He surprised me when he sighed and started over in Klaqin. Now we were getting somewhere. I understood “stand,” “spaceship,” and “Selina.” Her name brought my heart into my throat, but I knew “selina” could also mean “heaven” or “sky” so I swallowed hard. I kept a blank look on my face and waited. The dude took a step closer, softened his voice, and repeated his instructions again. Oh, man, this could mean trouble. I repeated the three words I understood, choking on the last one. We had a communication barrier. I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye.

  A bigger, hairier, humpier Gleezhian appeared where my previous captors had exited. Quasimodo and Bigfoot could get style lessons from this dude. He glided into our space without a sound. The others in the room were clothed in loose, ragged robes, but this dude wore a one piece uniform like mine. He’d never blend in as a Klaqin though, unless he shaved and had that hump removed. Something about his eyes—a kindness—struck me when he glanced from the loud guy to me and then back before speaking.

  Of course it was a conversation in Gleezhian, though I swear he lisped Selina’s name—made me think of how her brother Buddy spoke—and I also caught my name or rather a corruption of it. But how did they know who I was?

  Their conversation ended with grunts and squeaks. The loud dude stepped back and the new guy threw a blanket onto his back, lifted me up and threw me over his shoulder. I didn’t fight it. His long hair cascaded over muscular shoulders and mingled with the fur on the blanket, which stank worse than a wet dog. I let my arms dangle over his hump and kept my head lifted. He marched me out of the room. The last thing I saw was another group of swimmers escorting Coreg toward the glass door. Crap. He’d been caught after all.

  Quasi took me on a bumpy walk down a dark, wet corridor. I saw other passageways veer off, but because I was hanging and bouncing uncomfortably I didn’t get a look at what was down them. Our surroundings brightened and we entered a room the size of a basketball court. Quasi stopped and dropped me forward so I landed on my feet. One of his hands brushed across my cheek. It felt thick and clammy like the skin of a swamp dweller. He pushed me back onto a soft bubble of sticky goo. I saw no point in complaining. I adjusted myself, allowing my hands to go deep into the stuff. I wiggled my feet under me. At least it wasn’t quick sand. When I brought my hands forward none of the stuff clung to them, but my sleeves were soaking it up.

  Quasi plucked me out of it, turned me around and pushed me back in face first. I couldn’t imagine the point of this—unless it was meat tenderizer. I hoped it was a disinfecting procedure instead. The goo smelled minty. He pulled me out and let me stand at the edge of the clear mound while he eyeballed me up and down. He took the fur blanket and rubbed me down.

  “Now what?” I said in Klaqin.

  His Gleezhian response included the word “selina,” clear as a bell, well, a bell that lisps. My heart leaped into my throat again. He pushed me forward and made me walk through a maze of passageways until we came to a barred door. As we stopped a comforting smell struck me, a lower and more familiar note in the nasal symphony of wet walls, furry blankets, fragrant goop, and Quasi’s constant foul breath. He removed the bar and unlocked the door with a bad-ass key that looked more like a medieval torture device.

  I nearly jumped for joy when the door clanged open and there stood Selina, her back against the far wall. Her hands flew to her face. I expected her to come running toward me; we were, after all, long-time buddies and currently something a bit more involved, but she dropped her hands to her sides and stayed pressed against the wall, an expression on her face like when Buddy gets caught doing something wrong. And she looked seasick, green.

  Quasi shoved me forward when I spoke her name. He slammed the door and we were alone. I didn’t wait for an invitation. I was at Selina’s side in an instant. She threw her arms around me and melted into me. I wrapped her in a bear hug. Felt so good.

  I nuzzled my face into her neck and breathed in her scent. We held onto each other for the longest hug in the galaxy. I breathed her in, the single familiar scent on this planet, and began to loosen my grip, intending to draw my head back enough to let our cheeks slide against each other and—

  “Alex.”

  I lifted my head too quickly. “Yeah?” Time beat out in Klaqin units. I thought she was going to complain about my furry odor.

  “We have to get out of here.” She stepped aside and gestured toward the wall. I saw the hole she’d been concealing with her body.

  “Yeah,” I agreed, “I’m not a fan of being held by Gleezhians.”

  “Gleezhians? Cue the ref. Time out. What Gleezhians? I was brought here by Marcum’s parents, well, actually by a Klaqin guy who is sort of my uncle. This is a Klaqin underground resistance hideout or something. Though he did say …” she took hold of both of my hands and finished with, “that there were groups of escaped Gleezhian slaves nearby.”

  “That makes sense,” I said. I squeezed her hands. What I really wanted to do was bend forward again and—no, I needed to focus on our predicament. “I was captured by Gleezhian, uh, troops, and they brought me here under water.” Selina nodded her head. She probably got here the same way. “They caught Coreg too. Marcum said he dropped us close to where he dropped you. We must be underneath his parents’ farm. And in the middle of some kind of dispute or fragile truce.”

  I dropped one of her hands and felt around the edges of the hole. “This feels soft.” I let go of her other hand and walked the perimeter, examining the entire wall.

  “I did that already, Alex. That’s the only place that’s not rock. I made that hole.”

  “You did?” I had to smile. “What? Like you punched it?” I hummed a few bars of a popular fight song.

  “Uh huh.” She took a swing at a spot below the hole and widened the opening. She stuck her arm into the wall up to her shoulder. “Oh, no.”

  “What’s wrong?” The hole had filled in attaching itself to the material of her sleeve. “What the—” I started punching around her arm until bits of the wall fell away and she yanked her arm free. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I guess.” She brushed some gray matter off her elbow and rubbed at her shoulder. “Weird. More bio-metals, do you think?”

  “Bio-something.” I stared at the spot. The edges of the hole pulsed with tiny maggot-like threads stitching themselves back together. “This could be good. If we can make the hole big enough to get through and then help it mend itself—”

  Selina finished my thought, “—with the bio-materials in our clothes. We can cover our trail. They won’t know where we went. Hashtag prison break.”

  “This better go somewhere,” I mumbled as I began poking more holes. “We’ll have to
be careful. Don’t want to get sewn up inside of a rock wall.”

  “That won’t happen. At least, if it does, no worries, it didn’t hurt. We can always punch our way back here. Right?” She wiggled her eyebrows at me, something I normally do to her to lighten the mood. “Hey, Alex, why don’t you pace so we can get out of here faster?”

  “Can’t. Doesn’t work down here.”

  “I’m not surprised; it doesn’t work for me either. Hmm, wish I had some Ghiardelli right about now.”

  ♫ ♫ ♫

  WHEN COREG SAW Alex being carried off like the pathetic Earth child he was, Coreg turned his irritation at getting caught into explosive action. He broke away from the eight Gleezhian females as they pushed him through the clear entranceway. His training had prepared him to fight against a single male adversary or multiple men; he fought this group in the same way, but held back against the girls, unable to use his time-pacing skill below ground. They quickly subdued him when one of the five adult Gleezhians who was watching aimed a waist-high device at him and shot him in the leg.

  The Klaqin expletives that flew from his lips matched the girls’ shouts in volume and passion as he went down. They continued to scream at him, aiming their smaller weapons, and calling for help from their leader who had moved off to the side during the short skirmish.

  A second shot erupted in a high pitched zing from a contraption the leader controlled. All the Gleezhians quieted down and Coreg’s curses cut the air. He writhed on the sharply pitted ground as blood soaked through his uniform and then was reabsorbed, leaving brown patches that slowly faded. Coreg clawed at the hole in his uniform to prevent it from stitching itself back together. He ripped it wide as the hushed crowd leaned in to watch, weapons ready. He rotated his thumb ring, squeezed and held it over the injury. He gave a yelp as a miniature, multi-sectioned missile erupted from his leg wound and clinked onto the magnetic side of his ring. With another twist of the ring the projectile fell away and Coreg grabbed the edges of the torn uniform and pressed them hard against the fresh flow of blood. He wiped his bloody fingers on his chest and lay back against the jagged rock floor.