by Grant Fausey
“Guess that’s a no,” said Krydal shook her head.
“If this thing works,” said Brennan, “we’re going to change the face of the universe. Just imagine planets made-to-order – life on dead worlds – it’s a bloody miracle.”
“And what if life already exists there?” asked Jake. The big man patted the pilot’s shoulder, herding him like a sheep on its way to slaughter.
“Not a problem,” insisted Brennan. The technocrat waved his hands magically like a salesman. “We’ll just reseed the DNA, trigger the operation and get off the rock before the regenerative process terra-forms the planet.” Jake looked at Brennan as if he was chasing flies. It didn’t matter if there was indigenous life. It wasn’t about the population, or the planet. There was something else behind the operation, something much bigger.
“It’s simple,” persisted the corporate suit. “Ingenious really. Life will be reconstituted through the process.”
“You’re playing God!” insisted Jake. Brennan was working feverishly to keep a secret. His companions were assembling a long, metallic cylinder attached to a very powerful energy source. Obviously, it was some kind of terraforming device.
“What if it doesn’t work? asked the pilot. The hauler captain glanced in the direction of the Chariot.
“Nonsense,” said the corporate supervisor. He patted the pilot on the back without missing a step. “Worse case scenario…we repopulate the planet. There are literally thousands of species out there just waiting at a chance at life. Reseeding the planet isn’t a problem, getting the Industries quality resources is––Got it?”
Jake nodded. He got it, all right. Brennan’s message hit him like a freight train. The regenerative process was wrong, plain and simple. He couldn’t fathom Crimson’s involvement in all this. How could the woman of his dreams; the object of his desire be in league with the devil, let alone, these scoundrels? It didn’t make sense and he was completely dismayed with her, as if she had just given him a bureaucratic enema.
“You’re all mad,” said the pilot, firmly. “Are you truly going along with this?”
Krydal’s eyes swelled with tears. She knew the difference between right and wrong, and this was wrong. But it had to be done.
“It’s progress,” she told the pilot.
“It’s bureaucratic kaka,” said Rooka, sniffing the air.
Krydal glared at the lab rat like she had something on him.
“Come on …” said Jake. He was exercising his authority as captain of the Tigress. “Let’s get this over with and burn’er home.”
“But Boss?” Jake glared at Rooka. The copilot went silent. He knew the drill.
“Awe … right,” said the lab rat reevaluating the situation. “Gotcha!” The rodent took a step back. “We’re just going to go over there … now … and help those guys. Warner that is … and those other guys! We’re just going to go and help them get the rest of the stuff unloaded.”
“For now, let’s concentrate on the matter-at-hand,” said Renniska Brennan stepping up to the edge of the platform chewing on his lip. He studied the troubled situation. The technocrat rubbed his fingers together, as if he wanted to make a speech but didn’t have the time to prepare for it. “We’ll deal with your playmates later,” he told Krydal. The young woman glanced back at him, a tear dripped from her eye. She was angry, more than she could let on. “There’s residue inside the laboratory. Someone, or something crossed the barrier. And, I don’t think it was the first time.”
“Then it’s true …” she insisted, solemnly. “They’re changing the past.”
“Yes,” answered Brennan. “We’ll find them even if it means putting a Hound on their trail.” The dark haired beauty glanced toward the mysterious portal then back to the others. Her face matured, morphing into the mere reflection of the old woman for a time. “We’ll make the jump just before we set off the device,” said Brennan quietly to her under his breath. “In eleven hours … it should cover our tracks.”
Krydal nodded. She understood, but didn’t answer.
TWENTY-FIVE: Rooka Rocks
• • •
“Whoa…careful boss. That one almost hit me!” The copilot’s feet went up like a set of landing gear, tucked tight to his underbelly.
“What?”
“I said that one almost hit me.”
“Oh,” Jake nodded absentminded; his thoughts elsewhere, as he tossed another medium-sized crate off the back of the ground hauler with enough force to shatter the container. A full compliment of widgets dotted the debris field. “Didn’t see that one coming did you, Mister Rat?”
Rooka glared at the captain; he was being obnoxious … frail by comparison to the thoughts and misunderstandings dancing around in his head. He had no more idea of what was really going on then he did earlier. It was a complete mystery. Neither did he see the ghostly dragon shaped creature in the sky above him, nor did he recognize the scaly hide of an ITOL gunship hidden just beyond the threshold. He was too busy feeling sorry for himself, so much so, that the facts eluded him, and the pilot couldn’t help but bury his head in the sand. No one noticed the vibrations of another dimension or the unusual number of bodies visible in one moment, only to be gone in the next. They were clearly invisible to those individuals precisely placed in the threshold of the temporal conjunction, but only from one place in the threshold. The futures where converging on one another toward a single point in time, but he couldn’t see that either.
“It’s a nightmare,” rumbled the pilot. “How can she justify that?” Another crate of widgets hit the ground, splintering open.
“Watch what you’re doing!” Rooka rolled his eyes, putting his hands on his hips as he glanced back at the corporate liaison. “She’s not telling you anything you don’t already know,” interjected the rodent.
“How can she expect me to go along with this?”
“Doesn’t matter who’s responsible,” insisted Rooka. “No matter how cute she is, boss.” Jake trumpeted, annoyed. He didn’t understand Krydal, or why she would be part of such a calculated demonstration of corporate arrogance. There was no accounting for the leftovers.
“You just gonna stand there with your head in the sand, Boss?”
“Yeah––” answered the pilot. Jake tossed an extra widget across the debris field, skipping it like a stone on the water. He felt the ground quiver beneath his feet, but didn’t want to admit it to himself. His companion was right.
“I’ll think of something.” He told Rooka. “Just give me a moment!”
“Gamy,” said the copilot. He was already on the move. It was obvious the cute little lady from the Trini home office had manipulated the pilot, doing a real number on him. He wasn’t comfortable in his own skin anymore. “What am I supposed to do?” The hauler captain kicked aside a leftover widget, surveying the ground. “They’re talking genocide on a planetary scale.”
The rodent lowered his eyes, sobered. He couldn’t help but glare at the trucker. He knew Jake wouldn’t start something he couldn’t finish. But the truth be told, he couldn’t stand there and wait to see how it all came out either. He had to keep hope alive, otherwise there was no way he was going to survive this trip. Oh, he knew the odds where against him. But all his life the pilot had stood against the odds, using everything from his looks to the powerhouse stored in his soul to make a difference. Now was no different, he would manage the truth, whatever it was, and face the consequences regardless of the facts. If the truth dictated he slam the hammer down then so be it. The Industries were evil, plain and simple. But Rooka knew it was better to let Jake choose his own path, not stand in the way of progress. The hauler captain stuck his hands in his overalls, and that was enough to torque old Rooka off.
The co-pilot treaded after him, grinding his teeth, but kept his distance. Jake was in no condition to handle his antics. The star jockey was ready to explode, and the rodent didn’t want to be in the way when he did. The pilot was like a broken pipe, leaking a little
until he let go. Even the vegetation seemed to wither around him, or was it something else … a warm and fuzzy feeling perhaps, in the pit of his stomach that drew his attention as if someone else was aware of his presence.
“Hello,” said the pilot. A twinkle of grayish-orange sunlight peeked through a makeshift rooftop just above Jake’s head, drawing him beyond the rain-soaked remains of a block foundation. But it wasn’t raining. The water was obviously from another source. Rooka sized up the opening, it was just big enough for a rat his size to get through, so the copilot figured it was time as any to go off on his own for a little investigative work. Find the source himself before something abruptly ate both of them.
“Damn it, Jake,” said Rooka. The lab rat was driving himself crazy. “I know you’re right, but do you always have to be?” The rodent disappeared between a chunk of decaying cobblestone and a sheered off pipe making a sharp ninety-degree turn, before dropping down a level.
“Of course I’m right…” said the pilot. “What are you talking about?”
“We can’t just sit here and hope for the best, right?”
“Right.”
Rooka climbed across the pylon and steadied himself on a stack of rusty girders. A minute smile split the rat’s lips, spreading across the copilot’s face until it was wide enough to show his double set of incisors. “I say we pounce on them.”
“Right,” said Jake fighting his instincts. Everything in his body was telling him they had to do something to keep a lid on the situation. It was just that he didn’t want to. “Over here,” said a soft feminine voice. “I’m over here …”
Jake’s ears perked up; he locked eyes with Maccon’s redheaded companion, Brenda Hutton, and made a beeline for the debris field. The voice was familiar, like something out of a dream. This time Rooka heard it too. The rodent retreated along the protection of a broken edifice, taking covering behind the shards of the broken crate.
“What’d you say?” he asked in a wild-eyed frenzy, his fur standing up on the back of his neck as he sniffed the air.
“Where are you?” asked Jake.
“Where’s what?” The rodent heard the whisper, a sonance echoing on the ethereal, carried aloft by the siren of a woman’s breath. “What are you talking about, Boss?”
“Concentrate, will you,” said the voice. “I’m over here.”
Rooka sensed danger, and took track on the scent. It was doing a number on Jake. The pilot was completely still, following the sound of the voice to where Brenda Hutton and Jason Maccon stood in front of a pool of iridescent light. The illumination shifted, altering intensity as if was affected by his presence.
“Do you see that?” asked Brenda Hutton.
Jason Maccon nodded. The prospect of a new discovery brought a flutter to his heart. Jake crossed the boundary behind the prospector and was standing in the midst of something more unusual than any of them had bargained for. It was inherently different than anything any of them had seen before. The thing, whatever it was, had properties of its own. The damned thing looked multidimensional in nature: A portal of sorts. At least, at first scan. The object was buried, most of the device hidden somewhere beyond there sight, out of their handheld scanner’s range. They had obviously stumbled upon something of extraterrestrial origin.
“Any ideas?” asked Brenda. The brunette put her hand on Jake’s shoulder, restraining him. The object was just outside her line of sight. The pilot made the perfect leaning post and took the hint, cautiously repositioning himself so she could see the operation. The device was small, round, almost like a medallion made of light. It had obviously reacted to Jake’s presence. There was no point in aggravating the situation. Better to be safe, than sorry.
“Not a clue,” answered Maccon. “It’s active, though. That’s all I know.”
Brenda looked up at Jake, put her forefinger to her lips telling him to be quiet. Whatever the thing was, it was sophisticated. The technology was far beyond anything either of them had engineered, so it was definitely of extraterrestrial origin, and highly likely something neither of them had encountered before.
“You okay, Boss?” Jake didn’t answer; he could see the rodent’s approach but couldn’t hear the words whispered in his mind telepathically. Something about his proximity interfered with his audible senses. The copilot searched the rubble with a prying eye, but kept his distance. Rooka’s movements were shadowy, nearly invisible as he slipped between the layers of time, outside the limits of the present.
“What do you wanna do next?” whispered Brenda Hutton.
“Nothing,” said Jason Maccon, sharply. Rooka was headed straight for them on a collision course, but in slow motion as though he was passing through the waves emanating from the vortex. There was an audible tension in her voice, a sense of anxiety and fear. For all she knew, the thing was a trap, an inescapable lure left behind by some dead race that vanished eons ago, only to be reawaken in whatever century they were actually in.
“We’re in some sort of temporal flux.”
“That’s impossible!”
“What if it’s a weapon of some kind?” She whispered.
A bomb…? The thought had crossed the pilot’s mind. Jake’s eyes lit up with excitement. Whatever the canister actually contained was anyone’s guess! But there was definitely something affecting the thing’s appearance.
“What if that god-forsaken thing is something left over from a war that happened a million lifetimes ago?” asked Jake. “What then?”
There was a moment of silence; no real way to forecast what affect the device would actually have on them. Brennan said they had twelve hours to get off planet alive. Jake couldn’t help but wonder what the expedition was really all about. His image rippled like a reflection in the water, buoyant, yet solid. The device was light, almost iridescent except for the glow. Its outer shell moved like skin, pulsating, both machine and bio-matter; a combination of intricate mechanics interwoven in a marvelous feat of engineering.
“Stay here––” Jake told the others. He had to get closer. “If something happens, pull me clear.”
“What are you doing?” The young scientist stopped. “Are you crazy?”
Rooka’s heart fluttered in the wake of the disturbance, his body racing in a frantic attempt to keep up with Jake, to stop him from doing something stupid. But the rodent’s tiny feet where off the ground, galloping across the ruins in long, open strides, as if he had just pushed off the upturned earth, suspending his body. His motion slowed to near suspended animation, while his muscles stretched outward in an eerie silence, no longer able to keep up with the fractures in time.
“I’m right here,” said the voice. A glint of light twinkled from between the shards of rubble.
“Don’t do it, Jake,” screamed Rooka. “Whatever it is, don’t do it!” The lab rat’s voice bellowed like a thunderhead, but his words didn’t carry. It was too late. Jake was in contact with the device, his mind outstretched like probing fingers pushing aside the dusty gravel to reveal the remains of a bony hand, vibrant in a radiant golden light emanating from below the mechanism. It was a weapon unlike anything any of them had encountered before.
Brenda Hutton cringed. She was a master of ancient technology, not bombs. Whatever measures she needed to take to insure the safety of the team was anyone’s guess. Jake wondered if it was the moment of detonation? The ambiance vanished in utter silence, leaving only the explosion of light. The expulsion was unlike anything he had seen before. But he couldn’t say for sure. Rooka was upon him in a leap and a bound, trying to tackle him in a mid-air collision. The pilot, however, swirled into a chaotic whirlwind, held suspended in mid-air as Rooka raced passed him like an animal on the first day of spring. The pilot held the artifact, the twinkling light loose from between his boney fingers to examine the sparkling entity. The sonance in his head, beckoning him to come forth into the reverberation beyond the realm of upturned stone.
Brenda stumbled backwards, engulfed in a pattern of shimme
ring light. Jake looked up at her, seeing the golden light swirl around him in a blinding pulse, the nothingness of eternity reordered, throbbing to the sound of the radiance widening into darkness. Brenda lurched forward, pulled him back from the abyss. Jake’s consciousness slipped away, driven from his body as if it was no longer a part of his being. Time and space separated in a whisper of voices, shifting between the sands of reality, displaced from eternity. His consciousness expanded, swirling in streams of thought that vacated the world around him in a spiraling wake of temporal distortion. The hauler pilot called to his partner, but no language reverberated; no sound or sorrow, no single audible thing, or otherwise understandable groan or squawk labored forth as a whisper or exhaled into the wind. Only an eerie silence befell his eyes, wide open in the touch of a brisk morning wind, as it fell upon his face. The medallion of light pulsated in his hand, turned warm in his palm spreading its golden light across his fingertips.
Rooka slammed on the breaks, drove past the pilot on all fours, screeching to a halt with the veracity of a wildcat scrambling to devour its prey. Jake fell to the ground devilishly frozen in time, fear plainly visible on his face revealed through glassy eyes. “You cedar sap,” screamed Rooka; his little rat ears puffed forward in the face of danger. “You did it, didn’t you? You touched it …”
Jake’s hand fell by the wayside, grounded along with the rest of his body in a comatose state. His mind vanished into the depths of a swirling vortex of magic and wonder, until the past and the present rolled into a single moment in time. The world as he knew it ended, vanishing in a fabrication grandiose in both size and scale; the essence of the new reality pouring upon his memories in a panoramic display of splendor that swept across the surface of his mind like a sieve to reveal a Garden of Eden: A world covered with deep, beautiful meadows hidden amidst flourishing forests in a picturesque hollow of evergreens and spruce, flanked on three sides by rich pines and the brisk, cool stream of fragrant waters beneath the mist of an early morning dew. The grandeur of the past came alive in the vigorous smells of new and delightful nuances, which brought to life a wondrous world of such beauty that it dwarfed even the most charming of orbs. The pilot opened his eyes to behold the gift of life, as if witnessed for the first time through the wondering eyes of a newborn babe. A sensation noteworthy of the blessing and delight of his life renewed; his soul aroused within to somehow be seen through the eyes of another existence. His heart pulsed, rapidly coursing air rushed through his lungs. Yet, his mind relaxed. He had no recognition, or understanding of how he had come to be in such a wondrous place. Only that he was there.
