by Eli Ingle
“I had no idea it was that bad,” said Rona. Rigel was glad he had not said it (although it was true). The journalists reacted in the same way again.
“Do you have any idea of how bad the situation is?” asked one of the more aggressive-looking ones.
“Yes,” Rigel lied. “But we need more information. Our training should help – ”
“You seem to be avoiding my question,” said the journalist, smiling innocently. “Perhaps you are actually unsure about what you’re doing?”
“Now that’s unfair ….”
“I’ll tell you what’s unfair,” said a young journalist who was looking sulky. “That we were promised heroes who should be able to come down and destroy the Shadow that’s threatening our lives and instead we end up with two children who have no idea what they’re doing. That’s unfair!”
Rigel shuffled through his notes. There had been nothing in Rusty’s lists that had anticipated this outcome.
“It’s a disgrace.”
“Totally unfair.”
“We’ll see what the rest of the city has to say about this ….”
“Hoodwinked us all.”
“My mother will be so disappointed.”
“Look at them, completely useless.”
Rona was nearly in tears.
“Stop!” shouted Rusty. The journalists fell silent, staring incredulously at the robot that had stood up from his seat. Rigel could not be sure, but he thought that he looked almost angry, if it were possible for a robot to do so. “How dare you be so insulting and critical of the Masters?” Rusty demanded. “They have come here, leaving their own worlds behind in the process, to do their best to rescue your world for you and this is how you repay them? Shame on you! Shame on you all!”
The room remained silent as the journalists took in what he was saying. After a while there was some uncomfortable foot shuffling and muttering as each journalist attempted to avoid being the first to speak.
Eventually one man spoke. “I’m sorry,” he said.
Rigel considered him for a moment before nodding.
After that, the rest of them gushed apologies, asking the children not to think badly of them. They were frightened and would never normally talk to Light Ones so rudely.
“I’m sure,” whispered Rona to Rigel, who chuckled grimly.
They had reached the end of the meeting.
Rusty stood up again. “I thank you all for your time,” he said. “But the children are tired now so I would like to bring this to a close.”
A chorus of ‘thank you’ went up, and Rigel, Rona and Rusty left the room, refusing to meet the gazes of the assembled journalists. They remained collected until the door had shut behind them. Then their appearance of composure slipped away. Rigel leant against the wall and slipped down to the floor. Rona covered her face with her hands and Rusty sighed heavily, sending a blast of steam out of his ears.
“That was terrible!” groaned Rigel.
“It was horrible,” agreed Rona.
“Disastrous!” moaned Rusty. They both looked at him.
“Hey, you’re supposed to be supporting us!” said Rigel.
“I’m sorry?”
“You’re supposed to be supporting us, not telling us how badly it went.”
“But you were just saying how badly it had gone!” complained Rusty.
“But you’re the one who’s looking after us. You’re supposed to tell us that it wasn’t that bad and it will be okay.”
“Lying is against my circuits,” he said.
“Oh damn your circuits! Fat lot of help you are to anyone.”
“Never mind, Rigel,” said Rona. “It’s not our fault. We did the best that we could.”
“I suppose.”
“Come on, let’s go home. At least we can have a rest then.”
“Alright.”
So they left the building and took the Wurger way back to the Ministry. They told Laurie and the Royals how the meeting had gone before retiring to their rooms. It was still early but neither wanted to see more of the outside world. That was where all the problems seemed to lie and at the moment there was no solution to any of them. Tonight it was easiest to just lie on a bed, drifting away from the troubles of the world. Rigel was listening to the stereophonic cartridge that Laurie had transferred for him. What was worrying him most now was that his behaviour seemed to be reverting to how it had been before Laurie and the crew had found him – following rituals to fend off bad events. At night time he was beginning to feel increasingly insecure and worried. The only thing that could help him to feel better was listening to his tape, so the songs played through and eventually he was happy enough to fall asleep, the headphones still on his ears.
Rigel was walking along the edge of the forest that lay on the borders of the city. A thick fog was swirling between the trees and despite the unpleasant clench of fear that gripped his stomach, he still felt compelled to enter.
Succumbing, he stepped in between the trees. Darkness was heavier here and the shadows seemed to be laced with creatures best left unlooked at. Walking in further, he spotted a wrought iron archway in a clearing up ahead. The sight of it filled him with unbearable dread. Stopping, he studied it for some time. It was tall – about seven feet – and cast with ornate swirls and patterns in the black metal. A sword hung from a hook at the top, dangling in the gap. Stepping nearer to it, Rigel listened, hearing voices that whispered from within.
He stepped through the archway.
And walked through into another realm that was filled with such horrors that he –
Woke up screaming.
Sitting up in the bed, he scrambled out of his sheets and walked over to the window, breathing heavily. It was only just dawn; the sun was low in the sky, tinging it with a pale pink. Walking over to his washbasin he splashed the icy cold water over his face, feeling better for it.
“It’s just a dream,” he said. “It was just a dream.”
But he knew it was not. He knew that it was far more than a dream. It had been a vision of the Dark Realm, a place which even the most powerful people of Kozenia feared to talk about. But why had he seen a vision of it? He had no idea, but only hoped that he would never have to again. The things that he had begun to see there were so terrible that his mind reeled away from them, unable to accept that they might exist.
Knowing that he had no chance of getting back to sleep, he decided to sit down on the bed and read instead.
Soon the pink of the sky had turned to a blazoned orange, searing colour into the world. He stood up by his window, looking out. Suddenly, as he was looking over the city, washed orange by the sun, he realised how lucky he was to be alive. There might be troubles out there and he might have a long struggle ahead, but in that moment it didn’t matter. He lived in a world where people cared about him – something that in his past life had been nothing but a dream. Here he was in a world full of wonders that he could never even have imagined before.
Yes. He was lucky to be alive.
A week passed, filled with interviews and public appearances. They still found it hard to believe when they spotted themselves on the front pages of newspapers, usually along with words like ‘Heroes’ or ‘Kozenia’s New Hope’. Rusty continued to be well behaved and as neither of them had said the forbidden phrase he had not buried them in the back yard.
Rigel slowly grew used to the city and was happy to wander around it with Rona, whereas before, when he was alone on Earth, he often felt nervous, not wanting to get lost in strange places.
A few days later the Light Ones found that their activities began to calm down somewhat with their interviews becoming less frequent (although still every so often) and they had some more time for themselves. Laurie had been summoned by the Royals who instructed him and his crew to travel back to the other worlds. Rigel had gone to find Laurie before his departure later that day.
“What are you going for?” Rigel h
ad asked him, feeling upset that he would be leaving on a dangerous mission without them.
“They want us to see if we can find any more Light Ones,” Laurie explained. “I’m worried about it too but what can I do? I suppose we are the best crew to do it – we’ve had enough experience anyway!”
“It’s just after all we went through I worry about you. I know how dangerous it can be.”
“I know. It will be fine.”
“I hope so.”
“It will. Trust me. And when we get back we should hopefully have more friends for you!”
“That would be good,” Rigel admitted, feeling a little better.
“And you never know, if your training goes well they might let you go on a mission with us in the future. But I guess they’ll be the judge of that. At the moment I think the training is the main priority.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Are you getting on well with Rona?”
“Really well actually. It’s like we’ve known each other for ages.”
“That’s good … you realise you’ll be starting your training whilst we go away?” asked Laurie.
“Yes.”
“I want to offer a bit of advice,” said Laurie.
“Of course,” replied Rigel.
“Trust your instincts. More than anything else, trust them. After that, do what you’re told. The training will be hard and unpleasant. At some times you’ll no doubt want to give it up and all I can say to you is: don’t. For the good of everyone, you must stick it through until the end. I know you can do it. Just … just hang in there.”
“Okay. I will do. I promise.”
“Good lad.”
A long mournful blast on a horn near the air docks indicated that it was time for him to go. Rigel hugged Laurie tight.
“Take care and please come back.”
“I will do. See you soon.”
The horn blared again, making the captain run towards the docks, waving as he went. Rigel silently watched him go until he had turned the corner and gone out of sight. He was not sure where Rona was, so he went wandering the streets alone. He would have to be back before nightfall, but if he was careful he should be able to have a look around before he had to go home.
Turning on his heel, he walked down the street and towards the industrial sector, deciding to have a look around rather than traversing it as he usually did. Rusty had ended up staying with Rona whilst she was escorted to a solo interview. Glancing up into the sky he saw the usual collection of flying machines and hot air balloons, but then a deep rumbling filled the air. Turning around he saw a Kozenian Flying Warship and gazed at it in wonder. It was similar to the one they had arrived in, but one in flight over the city was a rare sight. These engines were making more of an appearance now because of the threats of civil war. It was a sleek machine but very long, almost like an angular submarine. Huge cannons lined every side and billowing smoke from the engines poured into the air. Rigel was cast into the shadow of its low orbit as it passed overhead, the rumbling coming to an almost unbearable pitch, until it finally passed and moved out of sight behind one of the factories.
Continuing on his way, he walked between the factories and could not help but be reminded of when he used to walk past the factories back on Earth, although here they were full of the banging of hammers on anvils and the roar of huge pieces of machinery. Occasionally a train carrying huge girders of steel or trucks of coal would rattle past on rails set into the ground, causing Rigel to jump out of the way. There were also many more robots here than in the main part of the city, although not friendly types like Rusty: they were mean, angular things that watched him suspiciously as he passed, their lamp-lit eyes never leaving him for a second.
Around another corner he spotted several of them on a break, leaning against the factory wall, smoking, although for what purpose he could not work out.
The general feeling around the industrial sector was quite different from that in the rest of the city. He certainly did not like it and was already planning to leave. The smog from the factories would occasionally obscure the sky. In the distance Rigel could just make out the shapes of the Ministry and other affluent buildings of the city. The silhouettes were almost like a token of what the people in the industrial sector could not have. There was an underlying feeling of lost opportunities and regret and also a deep resentment towards the rest of the city here. The quicker he got out of the area the better. He was already wishing that he had brought Rusty with him.
On and on he went, beginning to realise with a panicky feeling that he was lost, twisting and turning. It was only when he had begun to give up hope of getting out that he realised there were sounds of the city centre not far away. If he could just keep on walking then he would be out again.
Around the next corner he saw it: the end of the sector. The factories and run-down buildings ended and the better built, well lit areas began.
Hurrying forwards he emerged into a back street, relief coursing through him. Little back shops and street traders littered the way without order. Passing these, he moved forwards, looking for a station where a train would be able to take him back to the Ministry. There seemed to be no signs in the downtown area so he kept wandering around, hoping to stumble upon a station by chance. He was too frightened to ask any of the people on the streets, so he was hoping a stroke of luck would come to him.
A monorail rattled overhead. He cursed it. Where was the station supposed to be? He tried following it, running down the street and knocking people out of the way but then the track split into two different sections and he lost sight of it.
Rigel walked down another back street by accident. Pipes of steam hissed overhead and the dingy streetlights had mostly run out of gas. They flickered feebly, providing little to no light at all; some of them had burnt out completely. He squinted in the darkness, unsure of whether he should turn back again … but then he saw a brighter slot of light ahead, indicating another open street. Hurrying forwards, he was confused at first when he saw the light disappear behind a strange angular shape. Then he spotted several more. Men with mechanical wings strapped to their backs were gliding down from the buildings up above and landing in the street in front of him. Something about their sudden appearance along with their unannounced arrival scared him and he turned around, intending to go the other way, but another man landed behind him, blocking the way.
“Oh great,” muttered Rigel, feeling his heart sinking. This was a fantastic way to finish off the day.
The man at the front of the procession stepped forwards. He was wearing heavy boots that clunked every time he took a step.
“Well, well, well,” said the man in an oily voice. “What do we have here?”
“Stay back,” Rigel warned, trying to sound braver than he felt. “I’m armed!”
The men laughed.
“No you’re not!” the leader said. “Check him.”
The man behind him grabbed his arms and pinned them behind his back whilst another searched his pockets. They came out clean.
“Nothing,” the searcher reported.
“Just as I suspected,” said the first man, stepping nearer still. “Nasty piece of work you are, aren’t you? Don’t you know this is our patch? Anyone who’s got any sense knows that this alleyway ain’t no place to be walkin’ down all on your own.”
Rigel tried to draw his powers into his hands, but he was so busy trying to talk himself out of the situation that he could not concentrate on finding them. He would have to try and distract the men by talking.
“Well I’ve never been here before,” he replied.
“Oh a new boy, eh? Well that figures …. Never mind, we’ll show you what we do to people who don’t know their rightful place.”
There was nothing for it.
“HELP!” he cried at the top of his lungs. The men laughed again.
“No-one’s going to help you,” said the man. “The people a
round here have long since learnt not to go and help people who shout in our street.”
The leader threw the first punch, which hit Rigel in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him.
Two of the other men punched him, bruising his cheek and knocking out a tooth. Rigel distractedly watched the hard white incisor fly through the air, hit the wall and bounce down onto the floor.
“No-one’s going to help you? That’s where you’re wrong!” said a third voice.
Heavy thumps were heard and confusion reigned. Several of the men fell to the ground moaning in pain. Rigel wriggled, attempting to free himself. The leader of the men fell down, leaving only the one who was holding Rigel. Stepping out of the smoke was Rusty, his hands bared like fists. Upon seeing him, the man holding Rigel let go and ran down the alleyway.
“Duck,” instructed Rusty. Rigel obediently did so and watched as Rusty’s fist sprang forwards on a spring and hit the man from a distance, reeling itself back in afterwards. Rigel stood up, looking at the scene around them.
“What a mess,” he said then winced as he felt his swollen face. Even talking hurt now.
“Looks like I arrived here just in time,” said Rusty, seemingly oblivious to the havoc he had both caused and prevented from getting worse.
“How did you know where I was?” asked Rigel, amazed.
“It’s all in the circuits,” replied Rusty. “When you shouted help, my circuits picked up on it and I was able to locate you – not a moment too soon either.”
“Incredible. Thank you!”
“No problem. Shall we go home?”
“Yes please.”
Taking Rigel by the hand, Rusty led him out of the corridor and back out into the street. Twisting and turning, he directed them to a Wurger way station that would get them home in a matter of minutes.
Emerging from the boat, Rigel was surprised that the city still seemed so alive. People were selling food at stalls on the station and a man with a double-barrelled French horn that wrapped around both shoulders was merrily playing a tune. The activity reminded him of what he always imaged New York or London to be like – never sleeping. He commented on it to Rusty, who nodded his head jerkily.
