Captain RainCha and the Temple of Dreams

by Andy Ainscough

 

SUGGESTED FOMER READING: Captain RainCha and the Bad Boys of the Purple Moon, Vol.1, Story 4 + Captain RainCha and the Child Prince, Vol.2 Story 3.

 

GALACTIC COODINATES: 12-05-06-01

 

SUGGESTED SOUNDTRACK: See spotify playlist at end.

 

 

Oh boy. This is not good. Really not good. There’s no religion or self-help book that can make see the good in this. Oh boy not one. I can see why people wanted the damn thing so much if it did this. Fuck me, this is a bad guy’s Christmas.

 

Okay so as usual – I’ve got me some explaining to do. Let’s roll back a bit. Let me tell you how I came face to face with the Galactic Empress Tabitha Might.

 

Cue titles. A montage of purple weasels. Me looking handsome. Slow motion pulling out of guns. Etcetera etcetera.

 

Now I love myself a party. Who doesn’t? And I find myself in one of the hottest gigs in sector 4. And we all know sector 4 is the coolest sector. I know Joe will be salty but you’ve just gotta have a change from time to time. Its Friday night standard as I walk into KrYstal100 and the place is LIT. Its full of illegals, unregistered, humans, Fal-taps, Gorbegs – essentially if there is a biological oddity in the damn wide universe it is represented here. People dance around the crystal formations that grow out the ground up to the cave roof. A cross species slap-band funk the freak out in the corner hitting the crystals and send sound waves rumbling through the floor so you can feel it in your nethers. Oof that’s some good funk.

Oh yeah –we’re in a cave. And the place is run by living crystals. Sorry, just to get you up to speed.

 

Anyway. I’m not here strictly on pleasure. That would be ridiculous. I’m here to catch up with a business associate of mine.

‘Come on Ray she’ll be there later,’ I say and usher him away from a particularly sleek looking silver-back. Oh yeah my mate Ray is here too. He’s a highly evolved Gorilla but now works as a courier and my professional getter-into-troubler.

I walk across the dance floor snaking my hips as I go. They all love it. Or if they don’t they just haven’t seen it yet. At the other side are the private booths. Each one is carved into the rock face and lined with a different colour crystal. People like it – I think it looks like a fucking sweet shop. Alas. Me and Ray cha cha to the nearest one. A big, nasty looking Gorbeg in a begrudging tuxedo stands with his hand on an inevitable red velvet rope.

‘Name.’ It says blankly. Literally not a hint of emotion. The wall looks more passionate.

‘Woah calm down hot stuff,’ I say.

‘Name.’ the living wall says.

‘Okay okay no need for a speech handsome. Captain RainCha and Ray.’

Its huge hands remains unmoving on the rope.

‘Full names.’

 

Uh oh. Noooooooo. Don’t judge me.

 

‘ How did she get my full name? Ugh fine. Captain Horatio Alveron RainCha and Ray, full name. Ray the Bonso.’

 

What can I say – my parents were Hippies. End of Story. Fine.

 

‘In you go.’

 

Here she is. If I wasn’t such good friends with her I’d spend all my time running away from her. This bitch is crazy. But I love her. She’s tiny and this time she has a immaculate bob haircut in her trademark sleek black. She sits, with her tiny legs dangling over the plush sofa her hands folded and her lips pursed.

 

You guessed it – it’s only San Ya, proprietress of the largest black market in the Galaxy.

 

‘You late,’ she says unmoving. We shuffle in next to Valeiran, San’s Fal-Tap assistant and two radioactive looking drinks teleport onto the table. Told you this place is cool.

 

‘Hey San, sorry hun, we went to that new planet in the 02, tried to flog some of Ray’s old stock but it turns out its been overrun with green goo monsters. Who knew?’

 

‘Half galaxy knew RainCha. Idiot. But tell me did you get it? Shadow-board is it yours?’

 

Cut-Scene. So it turns out I’m wanted by some pretty bad guys. They’re really bad actually and not very pretty. Anyway, they knew everything about me – including that recently I got some let’s say superpowers courtesy of a bunch of undiscovered purple space weasels. Long story. But annnnnyyywayyy. I had to get a little do-hikkie that essentially deleted my name and face from every database in the galaxy.

 

And it motherrrfuckin worked. Yea.

 

‘Yes San I did indeed get the shadow-board.’

 

‘Show me, show me now.’

 

I’ve had the shadow-board, actually a rock that produces weird black smoke embedded in a sick necklace that is totally dope. I delve into my shirt and carefully hold it out towards San.

 

‘Fuck me San!’

 

She immediately yanks it off its chain and clutches it in her tiny hand. A series of magnifying glasses spin round from over her had and onto her eye.

 

‘Needed closer look. Necklace very frivolous.’

 

She stares at it every which way and gasps occasionally.

 

‘It is very beautiful. I wonder how works.’

 

‘No idea – I just know that it does.’

 

Besides me I can hear Valeiran purring. His tail is edging towards the shadow-board.

 

‘Do you think San,’ he says sexily. I’m sorry he’s super sexy even for a cat. ‘Do you think San it is one of the Unnawri?’

 

Oooo what is this?

 

‘The Unnawri?’ I say and look at Ray. He raises his eyebrows. I can practically see the credit signs rolling in his eyes.

 

‘Very possibly Val. RainCha you are a scoundrel but a useful one. Tell me have you heard of the Unnawri?’

 

Clearly not. What’s wrong with her?

 

‘No San as I have literally just expressed I have not.’

 

‘Sarcastic boy. You stop. The Unnawri are powerful artifacts from the Sofiva Empire. Beautiful and dangerous. They have been lost for millennia. But we think they are still out there.’

 

Ah. The Sofiva. Before the human vermin infected the galaxy a wise and powerful race called the Sofiva built a benevolent empire across it. Or so the story goes. They were like gods and angels. Built like humans but stronger and lither. Their never fatigued or aged. They were said to have cracked the code to eternal life. But they disappeared. Suddenly and definitively. Then the humans moved in. Any scrap of Sofiva evidence is worth millions and millions of credit. So you know people want them you know?

 

‘It’s not – you’re joshing me. the shadow board is a…what was it an onion?’ Ray says and laughs heartily. God love Ray.

 

‘Unnawri. Stupid Bonso,’ says San in a very roundabout fashion.

 

‘Do you know where the rest are?’ I say.

 

‘As soon as we had an inkling, San and I started doing some digging. If the shadow-board is an Unnawri then the legend is real and the rest will be out there. We have located a contact. A soothsayer of a kind called Pref Terin. We feel he may be able to help us find the rest.’ Valeiran says so softly and gently I practically fall in love with him.

 

My stomach suddenly drops. I mean I already kind of knew it but it just hits me all at once you know? If this is one of the most valuable objects in the galaxy then there are people gonna want it no fear. Suddenly all across the room I feel eyes looking at me. Are they? Who knows?

 

‘San,’ I say. ‘I think we just head back to the market. Get the shadow board somewhere safe.’

 

She understands my meaning and nods to Valeiran.

 

‘Yes. Good idea. Come Idiot Captain. Bonso. We will go. My ship is outside.’

 

We slide out of the booth and the enigmatic Gorbeg lets us out without a smile. Our motley crew slips through the crowd. I make sure the weasels are inside. For once they conform. A woman bumps into me – she has an old fashioned t-shirt on. A man with some kind of lighting sword – she looks hard as nails. She stares and me for a moment and then for longer at San Ya. I’m not offended, everyone knows San. I mean the woman might know me, I’m not bothered. Am I? Oh who cares?

 

The night is full swing. The music bounces off the crystals. Drinks slosh around. Different species, who probably shouldn’t, neck in the distance.

 

Then. No kidding. Total Silence. No joke.

 

I’m stood in some kind of spotlight. A huge blinding light from above. The rest of the club is frozen. San Ya next to me points at the exit like a statue. Valerien remains sexily still. Ray is honestly pulling the most hilarious face. I take a picture obv. But still what the hell is going on?

 

This is where things get a bit weird. There’s a voice. From god knows where. Perhaps it is God – I don’t know but here it goes:

 

‘CAPTAIN RAINCHA YOU HAVE BEEN CHOSEN…’

 

I knew it. I knew I was the messiah. Something just told me you know?

 

‘YOU HAVE BEEN CHOSEN FOR A RACE.’

 

A race? That’s not savior of the galaxy. So mad.

 

‘…A RACE TO THE FINISH AND A RACE TO DEATH. AT THE END LIES THE TEPMLE OF DREAMS WHERE YOU’RE GREATEST DESIRES WILL COME TRUE.’

 

Inevitably, that’s when I teleport.

 

So back to the present for a little interlude. Ooo nice word. Interlude. This is by far the worst shit I’ve been in. And I’ve been in some proper shit before. Tabitha Might does not look happy. And as I look over my shoulder, neither does the collected representatives of the Galactic commons. Anywho back to the story.

 

So I’m teleporting. I’m hoping I land in a nice warm bed, or a soft, flower laden meadow. But oh no, I land IN MID AIR and fall to a stone floor with a ‘oh fuckin hell’

 

It’s darkness but I’ve got a stone floor so that’s something. I whip out Scratchy out of my arm. It sniffs the air and looks at me quizzically. ‘I don’t know hun either,’ I say. It raises one of its tiny claws as if to say oh I have an idea. Suddenly it grips with all its might and glows a bright purple. I look round. The purple light does nothing. Just illuminates more darkness beyond.

 

Then I have an idea. I whip out all eight weasels and push as hard as I can. Purple light fills the air. Oh shit, I’ve got this wrong. I can feel a fizzing up and down my air. Damn things can never get it right. I can tell they’ve mistaken light for raw power. Children and animals people, never work with children and animals. So suddenly I’m a mini bomb ready to blow. And blow I do. Watch it.

 

I was in a prison or a box. I know that because the weasels have only gone and blown the bloody doors off. Well and the walls.

 

I’m on a podium in the middle of an oblong stadium. Either side are huge crowds in the stands. They’re jeering and shouting and waving betting slips. These are not your usual San Ya’s market fodder either. You know people like me, a bit sketchy but a good heart really. These I can tell are proper underground scum. There’s some I can see who are banned from the market. There are slavers. I can see men sat with species in chains round them. There are huge monsters taking up tens of seats. Unregistered and terrorists. If the Empire found this place they’d have a field day. Me on the other hand… Beside me are others on more podiums. An old battle hardened Fal-Tap with a scar down his face. A young Gloosha with a set of mean spikes on her head. A huge Gorbeg with a cyborg arm. A human – wait, I think, it’s the woman from before, the one in the vintage t-shirt. What’s she doing here?

 

A platform floats up in front. Oh no. No, no. Not him. Anyone but him. I’d recognize that missing tooth anywhere. Lavatio Bron.

 

Firstly I owe him money but that’s besides the point. Mainly this guy is a sleezebag of the highest order. He used to be the darling of the galactic network. Show on every channel, appearances in every sector attended by millions. But after some rather, what I can only describe as… unsavory business transactions the man fell from grace. I saw him hosting a club night on Triisk a few years back. Some dead end gig, with a few tired old strippers. Seems as though the man has landed on his feet though.

 

Let me just paint you a picture of how much a bellend this man is. He’s wearing a suit made entirely of mirrors so you can’t help but look at him. His dyed black hair is slicked back in the most enormous greasy mullet you’ve ever seen. His face is conventionally attractive I guess. But anyone would say that. He’s had morph-surgery. His face literally moulds itself to your own particular attractions. It’s the weirdest thing you’ll ever see, but my does it get your loins going. Ugh I hate him. It’s the tooth, the missing canine, that’s the only way I can tell it’s him. Oh and his smug fucking grin.

 

He’s whizzing round on a grav-platform clicking his fingers at the crowd. They cheer and I can tell a wave of unusual feeling hits their privates. Eventually, with a flash of fireworks he hovers centre stage.

 

‘Welcome one. Welcome all!’ His silky sickening voice booms over the stadium.

 

‘OI!’ I shout being a nightmare to show proceedings. ‘OI LAVATIO’

 

‘I see you’ve all made it from your various prisons you beautiful lot.’ There’s a roar of laughter from the crowd. He can’t hear me the bastard. Right I’ll show him. There’s a rise of purple fizz in my throat.

 

‘OI LAVITIO BRON WHY THE FUCK AM I HERE?’ my voice echoes around the stadium thanks to a little fire from the weasels.

 

He stares at me for a minute shocked and then smiles lizardly.

 

‘Well well, ladies gentlemen, other designated existences introducing Captain RainCha and the bad boys of the purple moon!’

 

There’s a roar from the crowd. Cool, the name caught on. Anyway. He swings along the line the Fal-tap first.

‘Terrance Grenn, Mercenary. Adventurer of the 6th sector, watch out for those claws.’ Then the Gloosha, ‘Bloge, heir apparent to the Sea of Harmony. Gonna get in trouble for that one.’

He bypasses me and heads to the gorbeg. ‘Oh boy, don’t get on this one’s wrong side. It Karvax, Grand Champion of the Sector 6 gladitorial games. Finally last but not least. Its her, a child of Lazarus – Morven Glass herself. I, on behalf of my employer welcome you to the Sancta Canyon. At the end of this treacherous path lies the tomb of dreams. Inside, legend has it all your dreams can come true. The first one there will find out its wonders. The others – well they will die.’

 

There’s a Cannon fire. I guess that means – oh shit. GO.

 

So I’m running that’s for sure. And so are the others. It’s a race I guess that’s what you do right? Terrance Grenn whizzes past me, a trail of blue behind him. He’s got grav-boots on that’s not fair. I want Grav-boots. The canyon is narrow but huge. The vast, sandy walls tower above me. As I run the roar of the crowd becomes less and less. This shit is creepy. There is a crash from behind. It’s Karvax, the huge Gorbeg, he shoves me to the side. Painfully from the floor I watch as he leaps into the air and plunges his arm into the rock face. He propels off it and into the adjacent wall. He’s going over the top! Bastard. Well two can play at that game.

 

My arms glow purple. Oh yeah baby here we go! I zoom into the air like a rocket. The energy from my purple weasels tingles all over my body. Sandra busts out of my outstretched arm and dances to the music. Oh what music you ask? I’m playing funk music in my head obviously.

 

Anyway.

 

I shoot up past the canyon edge and from here I can see the whole outstretched map. The canyon is like a deep gash in a rocky wasteland. It snakes on and on until out of the sand a mountain rises. Along the slopes there are cracks with deep green energy throbbing out of them. Well that’s obviously the place. Right then off we go.

 

Oooo. There’s something in my ear. It’s a bee. Wait no its not. Is it? Ah. It’s buzzing. Shit. What is that? Bitey pops out over my shoulder and peers in – it shrugs and then disappears.

 

‘Captain that you my friend?’

 

Is it God? Surely not. I thought somebody disproved him years ago.

 

‘Can you hear me Captain?’ I think I’m having a religious experience.

 

Its Ray. Ray is speaking into my ear.

 

‘Captain its me Ray. Can you hear me?’

 

‘Shit yeah I can – how are you doing that?’

 

‘Oh I put an audio chip in your ear months ago. No biggie.’

 

‘No biggie you fucking weirdo! What you snuck into my room and then gave me an inside piercing. I’m outraged – can you tell I’m outraged? Who does that? Why on the moons of Sa1 did you do that?’

 

‘I dunno maybe in case you got lost or kidnapped or teleported out of a bar right before my eyes. I dunno. Something like that.’

 

Hmmmm. I guess. Okay I suppose. Still mad though.

 

‘Where are Captain?’

 

‘Lavatio Bron has me. But it’s not him running the show I don’t think – he’s just hosting it. They’re getting me and some others to race to a ‘temple of dreams’ or some shit.’

 

‘Ughhhh Lavito Bron is the worst.’

 

‘I know right?’

 

‘Never heard of the temple of dreams. Did he give you anything else?’

 

‘Erm…the Sancta Caynon. I’m hovering above it now.’

 

I can hear him typing. From the background I hear a barked shout. Ah he’s at San Ya’s.

 

There’s a rustling screech – I think a microphone has been pulled away.

 

‘Captain its me San Ya.’

 

‘Yes I can tell it’s you San. You have a distinctive voice’ Like a gar-claw being pulled against moonstone.

 

‘You in sky yes?’

 

‘Yes why?’

 

‘Get down – get down – back into canyon.’

 

‘Why –?’

 

Oh. Oh I can see why. How did I not spot it before? The sand is moving. And I don’t mean just with the wind its literally moving up and down like waves. I can still see Karvax running along the dunes. Oh yeah there it is. A huge monster like an eel but MASSIVE rises up through the sand and swallows the mercenary in one. Shit. Suddenly on shoots past me on the left. I dodge. Then on the right. Bollocks. They block out the sun with enormity. Enormity. Good word Captain. Sorry.

 

‘Captain what happening? You are on the planet Cracktar, home of the desert snakes. Get back in canyon.’

 

‘I’ve realized San. Little busy. One min.’

 

I shoot downwards. Karvax must have sparked a feeding frenzy. The bastards are everywhere. It’s a storm of teeth and slobbering terrible, sandy breath. One rises up in front, I blast it with energy. The purple shot bounces off its grey-brown hide. Okay so can’t fight them. They’re all around shooting up through the sand wrapping and writhing round me. There! There’s a hole I funnel the energy into my feet and blast across as quick as I can. It’s closing and quick. Come on weasels. Sandra appears in front of me with a face as if to say we’re doing our bloody best. I push harder.

 

Yesssss. I did it. Of course I did right? I zoom out of the nest of giant eels and into the sunlight and shoot down into the canyon, back where I started. Just as I pass the lip I see the writhing monster mass slither back into their sand-sea. This place is gross.

 

‘I’m out. I got back in the Canyon.’

 

‘Good. Desert snakes very nasty. Eat you one bite. No hope.’

 

‘Thanks San. Good talk. You anymore info?’

 

There’s another buzz in my ear.

 

‘Ray here. The Sancta Canyon is rumored to be home to the Temple of Dreams like you said. It’s a burial place of an ancient king said to house an ancient treasure. Lost for an age though – not a surprise against this shit- hole of a planet. We are straight up sector 6 here my man. Uncategorized to shit. Look there’s not much info apart from a message found on an ancient hardrive.’

 

‘What does it say?’

 

‘Face your worst nightmare to find your greatest dream.’

 

Oh boy that doesn’t sound good.

 

Alright Alright. It can’t be that bad. How would anyone know what my worst nightmare is? I’m pretty sure I don’t know what my worst nightmare is.

 

‘I have placed tracker on you. Get going. We are on our way. But you can’t look like you’re not playing game. They kill you dead. Go now.’ Says San in my ear.

 

‘God hell San I’ve just escaped a nest of giant sand eels give me a break.’

 

She’s right though. I start to run down the canyon. It’s strangely empty. There’s no plants anywhere, no scuttling animals. Nothing. Not even a few stray rocks. I stop for a moment and wipe my hand along the side. The dust comes away and there’s metal underneath. A grainy metal as if its really old.

 

‘San, Ray. I don’t think this is a canyon.’

 

‘What do you mean man?’ Rays says.

 

‘I think this whole place is the tomb.’

 

‘I can scan it from you audio chip.’ There’s a clicking of keys and a buzzing of loading screens. ‘Oh boy Cap you’re right. This place is massive. The sand must have moved in afterwards. It’s like you’re on the last assent of some huge mountain.’

 

‘Are you here yet? Can you get me?’

 

‘Nearly but we can’t get down too close or the snakes will get us. Get to the temple up ahead and we’ll pick you up from there.’

 

Knew it. I just knew no matter what I’d have to make it to the temple. Behind me I hear a chug of a jetpack.

 

‘Can who get you?’ A voice says. Its slippery and sarcastic – I like it. I turn and see the woman from the crystal club. She lands on the floor with a light thud and holds out a gun.

 

‘Woah there hun,’ I say. ‘Let’s not ruin our first date with laser blasters eh?’

 

She laughs, cocking her head back. ‘Not my type, I’m afraid,’ she looks me up and down. ‘So go on then Captain what’s your party trick?’

 

‘What was your name again?’ I say stalling. I like her already but I can’t yet work out if she’s going to kill me or not.

 

‘Morven, Morven Glass. I’ve heard your name before, mainly in Salty Joe’s, mainly paired with a few choice expletives. Go on then tell me, why you here?’

 

Ugh, I have to do this like literally ten times a day.

 

‘I crash landed on a unregistered moon and became host to some purple energy weasels. They make me kinda fly and blast and shit. No six pack though yet. I thought that’s what super powers did but apparently I miss out? Just my luck.’

 

‘You’re shitting me. Weasels? You’re having me on.’

 

Now this is the bit I enjoy. Because quite rightly no one ever believes me. I spin on one foot. As I move through the air, with a flash of bright fuschia, eight weasles appear on my arm and wave at my new friend Morven. I grin.

 

‘Ok. Ok you’re telling the truth. Shit that’s cool. The weasels though not the spin.’

 

‘Go on I’ve shown you mine, you show me yours.’

 

She sighs. ‘I’m a child of Lazarus.’

 

I knew my face dropped. I knew it. I couldn’t help it – a bloody child of Lazarus.

 

‘So you… so…’

 

‘Yes. I don’t die. Pending injury at least. I won’t ever…run out.’

 

‘Whoa cool.’

 

‘You’d think wouldn’t you…’

 

She puts down the gun and squints at me. ‘You’re not a bad guy are you? You’re just a big idiot man?’

 

‘Oh absolutely.’ I laugh.

 

Unfortunately at that point, right behind us, they decide to make another apparence, missing us by mere inches a giant, bloodthirsty sand snake burst through the wall. Fuck’s sake.

 

Ok just imagine the next bit accompanied by a rocking bass solo right?

 

I shoot up into the air. Morven’s jet pack bursts into life. Snake after snake is busting through the walls. We dodge and duck and weave. These things are nasty you can tell by their bloody awful breath. I wonder if the snakes came with the temple or came afterwards? Shit no time. The canyon is getting darker as more and more of the beasts criss cross the expanse. They’re bursting through and diving straight back into the other side.

 

‘Morven if we can get to the temple at the end my friends can pick us up’ I say blasting a snake down through its open mouth.

 

‘Who are they?’ She says running along the length of another.

 

‘What the hell does that matter?’ I say and swoop under another big bastard.

 

‘I’m not getting in some spacecraft with someone I don’t know. You could be slavers or something!’ she hovers for a moment and expertly takes out the eyes of one snake sending it writhing to the ground.

 

‘We’re not Slavers! My friend is called San Ya, she’s okay.’ I mean I wouldn’t stretch to good. The canyon is writhing with the buggers. Up ahead I can see the floor rising. We’re getting near. I send out the weasels. Each one along a different snake. They scamper along quickly down the great mottled backs.

 

‘Whoa you mean the San Ya, okay it’s a deal. I’m coming with you.’

 

Down below I see Blooge the royal Gloosha caught in some huge teeth like trap on the ground – definitely dead. That’s going to cause some international incident I know it.

 

‘In 10 seconds M, Get by side and fly forward.’

 

‘Yes Captain,’ she’s says, still sarcastically.

 

I wrestle away from my current snake and look forward. The weasels are all in position along the side.

 

‘NOW!’

 

There’s a flash of purple and a great explosion. We hurtle forward at lightning speed. I can hear rustling the snakes are coming to. The temple is up ahead I can just see it. Whoa shit shit. Its Terrance Grenn the fal-tap mercenary. A snake bursts out and eats him in one.

 

‘Keep going!’ We push harder and harder until we tumble out onto a flat stone surface and everything goes deathly quiet.

 

‘What the hell just happened?’

 

‘The weasels exploded. Made a brief pathway for us to whizz through. They saved us.’ I say.

 

‘Oh I’m sorry I guess.’

 

‘Oh no…they’re not…’ Out pops Sandra from my shoulder and winks at Morven. ‘They’re multi-talented.’

 

Okay the next bit is where things get weird (okay weirder). Something unexpected happened and I’m not talking about Tabitha Might. Let’s just say I didn’t enjoy it.

 

Behind us, presumably with no food sources, the snakes retract into the walls. We came through a force field I felt the tingle as we passed. Up ahead is the tomb. It’s a squat, square pyramid. It’s hard to tell if it’s made of stone or metal – it’s like a combination of the two. All over it are strange carved symbols. They are faded though and their edges are blurred. This thing is ancient.

 

‘Cap we’re here but couldn’t get through to the ground – we see you’ve made it though.’ Ray appears in my ear. ‘You’ll have to fly up from here something is blocking our lifter-upperer.’

 

‘Transit beam Ray, its called a transit beam.’ I say without thinking. The tomb is entrancing its like being a dream even looking at it. ‘There’s a force field here. But it seems to let people through. I’ve made a friend – we’re bringing her too.’

 

‘Okay fine. Come on then.’

 

I drift forward towards the tomb. Its like I’m being pulled along. I can fell Morven beside me doing the same. What’s inside there? What did those goons at the stands want so bad that they set all this up? In the middle is a gap of a door. We stand in front of it and just stare. I feel like I’m underwater. Everything is blurred at the edges.

 

‘Cap, come on, we can’t stay forever.’

 

‘Sure sure.’

 

We stare at the open mouth of the door as if it is a piece of beautiful art. The blackness inside changes slowly. It swirls and curves into creamy passages of white. They twirl like rivers bending into whirlpools until the shape of body appears. The body gains detail, the end of a vague arm flexes into fingers. A soft face takes on softer features. It is like a human, but beautiful, more beautiful than any human could possibly be. And taller, and more graceful. Out of its back, slowly two great wings unfold. Is it an angel? Oh no did I get eaten by a snake? Am I dead? Well if so Morven is too – ha. The Angel, with all its features in place opens its mouth and begins to speak.

 

‘Welcome weary travelers. We are the Sofiva and welcome to our temple. One may pass and one may leave. Through this door is your worst nightmare and your greatest dream. Only those who are worthy will have both.’

 

Well what do you know? As soon as the Sofiva are mentioned here they are. Well fancy that.

 

The words snap me out of my trance. ‘Yeah I can do without either. We’re going hun.’

 

‘Yeah sorry strange hologram lady. We’re off.’ Morven says.

 

We both blast off upwards but of course slam into the now solid force-field roof.

Shit. A little sore we both look at each.

 

‘I’ll do it.’ We both say at the same, clearly both secretly and absolutely wanting to.

 

‘I’m protected. The weasels they’ll keep me safe.’

 

‘From your worst nightmare?’

‘Ha maybe not. But a nightmare – you must have lived longer than I have Morven, I’m sure there are more nightmares for you than me.’

 

She looks at me for a moment and then turns away. ‘I’m not sure of that. Your eyes Captain, your eyes tell a different story.’

 

‘Go. I’m protected. I’ll be fine.’

 

She turns and then with a huff jumps and hovers in the air. ‘Fine, but its my turn next okay?’

 

I nod and smile weakly. She launches upwards through the force field and I am alone. It hits me suddenly – that feeling of being alone – but it isn’t an alien one. Before Ray, before San, hell before Salty Joe I was alone. After the army, before I found out that greedy people only get greedier, back when I was hanging out on the ice planets of the Thex system and hopping between the asteroid ruins of the last edge of the galaxy, I was alone. I feel it here again like an old friend. Even though my friends hover above the force field they may as well be a universe away. Only the door is there now and whatever stands beyond it.

The Sofiva stands to the side and gestures me in. I walk forward through the door and into utter darkness. I know what is coming. I can feel it. If the Sofiva was right than it is my worst nightmare is coming, and my worst nightmare is something I have already lived. Predictably the door closes behind me with a grind. Slowly but surely I hear in the distance the pounding rhythmic march of many feet. They are getting closer. I try to run but in the darkness I go nowhere. Up ahead a child appears. I don’t know his species but he turns from green to red quickly as if alarmed. He runs through lush green trees shouting for his mother. Shouting for anyone. The marching boots get closer and closer. He screams and runs. Others appear, more children playing out on the forest. They are glowing red just like the first one. The marching people pass by me – they are soldiers, decked out in full space gear. They looks like robots, faceless and terrifying. I know they are human though because one of them is me. Suddenly they stop and bring out the guns off their back. I collapse to the floor – Sandra emerges and cuddles my arm. They cock the guns and aim into the forest. I can see the glowing red of the children just for a moment and then it fades away.

 

Yep. They got it right. My nightmare relived. After that I never went back.

 

At the present Tabitha Might is opening her mouth as if to speak – but we’re in slow motion right? So let me finish off my yarn.

 

I sit for a moment curled up in a ball. There’s a tap on my shoulder, I raise my head and see all eight weasels looking at me with tears in their eyes.

 

‘Don’t hate me,’ I say. They don’t, they all come and nuzzle my legs. I don’t deserve them. The room, now the projection has gone is just a small stone space, with nothing in it. They must tap into your mind and project it back at you. Horrible but effective I guess. In front a panel opens into another room and light pours in. I get up and slowly walk through.

 

My god the Sofiva were keeping this close to their chest weren’t they?

 

Inside is a glass room. Literally all of it glass. Or I think its glass. There are beautiful sculptures of impossible creatures laid on delicate plinths across a huge carved floor. The ‘windows’ must be holograms – each one a different scenes. On one side lush green fields, another a snowy mountaintop. The furthest side is as if we’re in deep space, a galaxy of stars for the taking as if painted on a canvas. My open mouthed gawp is interrupted for a moment by a voice that I had all but forgotten.

A painful jolt shoots through my head accompanied by a scratchy changing of sound connection.

 

‘Ahhhhhh Captain – forgotten about me had you?’

 

Ah yes, my old enemy The Owner. Of course – how could I forget? He’s after me for a few things, not including selling him some dodgy sheep and stealing the shadow-board from under his big fat nose. Anyway.

 

‘I bet you were wondering who put this all together weren’t you?’

 

‘No,’ I say. ‘Obviously it was you dumbass.’

 

‘Well… oh fine. Well we have the place surrounded. You’re little buddies have scarpered. Get the artifact. There in the centre. Get it and bring it to meeeeee.’

 

His voice is so annoying I can’t even. I just can’t.

 

I guess I have no choice.

 

On the central plinth is what looks like a heavy ring. Is this it? A bit of old metal. As I grab it I feel that familiar tingle. But boy is it powerful.

 

OH MAN IS THAT GOOD.

 

So that’s you to speed. I touched the artifact and it teleported me here – the galactic senate right in front of Tabitha Might. I mean talk about out of the frying pan and into the fire? Oh shit I guess slow motion is over. Back to the present. Tabitha Might raises her finger and points it at me:

 

‘GET THAT MAN!’

 

I’m not worried. Scratchy just winked at me. The weasels have a plan. As I say it again that doesn’t sound so good. The weasels have a plan? Oh god I’m going to die.

 

Guards emerge from everywhere. I feel an odd stretching sensation over my body. As if my head is halfway into warpspeed but my arse isn’t. What is happening? Ugh this is horrible. I’m being pulled downwards. The guards step back shocked.

 

Oh wait- I’m not being pulled downwards. I look at my hands. They’re tiny little purple claws. I knew I had more powers – I knew it! I can transform into one of them. At least I hope I can transform back – we’ll have to see. Anyway for now I better run. I scamper along the floor of the senate and jump headfirst through the Empress’s chest and out the other side. I wave a tiny claw and disappear into the labyrinth of Ea1.

 

A cliffhanger. A cliffhanger indeed.

 

Now that was quite an adventure and it isn’t over yet…

 

Tune in next time. Stay cool.

 

Captain RainCha and the Bad Boys of the Purple Moon.

 

 

 

 

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The New World

 

SUGGESTED FORMER READING: Admissions Policy, Vol.1, Story 2.

GALACTIC CO-ORDINATES: 03-12-04-01

SUGGESTED SOUNDTRACK: (See Spotify playlist at end.)

 

Prelude.

 

A truck swishes past in the direction of the Fal-Tapria, it’s going too fast.

 

Where am I?

 

The cartoons aren’t on the telescreen when I get home from school.

 

What happened?

 

At quarter past five there’s no sign of my parents.

 

The University. The gravity had gone.

 

On the news the Fal-Tapria is lopsided parts of it are cracking and then it falls. I don’t understand. My parents are still not home – I make myself a sandwich.

 

There was a lecture theatre and then…

 

It’s dark and the news is still on. I don’t think to turn on the light. A man comes in and tells me a story. About some bad people who did a terrible thing.

 

…there was the shade. The thing with the smoke and the…

 

I sleep that night in a bed that isn’t mine. In a house down the street. A woman I don’t know keeps coming in checking if I am okay – she smiles but also looks sad. Everyone that day looks sad.

 

it opened the airlock. Am I dead?

 

Act 1.

 

For a minute I think I have a hangover. My head hurts and I can’t remember what has happened. Have I been put to bed? Where did I go – probably the outer hub, always terribly dangerous parties there. But I am not lay on anything, I can’t feel my back resting on anything at all – perhaps I am not in my cabin. But where? I can’t open my eyes – they’re too heavy. I can only see the dark and mysterious colours that light forms on a closed eyelid. I can move my arms though; they are heavy too but soon surrender into the air. I think… although I can’t quite believe it… I think I’m in water. The water is thick and custardy – perhaps it is custard? Eventually my fingertips reach an edge.

The thoughts begin to spill through suddenly like the water through a broken damn. My name is Fenn, a student at the University of Pure Sight. Wait. The former university. It blew up. I saw it. The shade released the airlock and I saw the vast space-station start to explode. I was with the Professor and Ter. We understood the monster, it only wanted to come and learn but it had killed everyone. Including it seemed – me. Then where am I now?

My eyes flip open suddenly. I am in liquid but it doesn’t sting or fill my eyes I can just about see into it. About a foot in front of me is a swirling fleshy surface. Greens and black form and reform into organic maps. I have been reincarnated – have I? Seems unlikely – I was always a woman of science but maybe I was… the word tastes bitter even as a thought… wrong. But I feel fully-grown. Ugh! What am I then? Some terrible creature from the badlands. No Fenn mustn’t be prejudice – what if I’m some terrible undesignated species from the Sector 6. That’s better. Oh god though what if I’m a lizard monster or a gas whale or something I don’t know! I look down as best I can. I can see my hands and flex out the claws. From round my back my tail snakes round. Thanks goodness as – far as I can see I’m still a Fal-Tap.

I keep my claws out and draw them down the fleshy surface. It comes away like wet tissue paper. I start scraping wildly at it disturbing the liquid into bubble streams all around. Layer after layer comes off until light starts to appear. Proper light though and not just the coloured darkness. With one last pierce like the popping of a balloon the wall breaks and the light floods my vision.

I splutter and take in lungfuls of air at syncopated intervals. The water drips off me and the warm air takes control. I can finally see where I am.

It is a bright day and a warm one too and I’m on a planet that’s for sure. There’s dusty rock everywhere and a sun in the sky. Here and there are dark stains where the water from the pod has exploded out. It’s quiet. I shake out my fur to dry myself and look around. On the horizon is a constant stream of black smoke, its like the rubbish planets you here of where the capitol sector sends its waste. Desolate planets left to cook by constant rubbish tip infernos. I appear to be on a hill, only a slight one though and on one side there is a forest, if you could call it that, of dead twig like trees. Am I here alone? Surely there is someone else? I will head to the fire, unless it’s a volcano it had mean some form of civilisation surely. I set off.

Shit. I feel something grab my ankle. Shit shit shit. Fuck. I look down. It has, something has grabbed my ankle and is pulling. I can’t quite see because of the mud. It could be a root. I’m stuck fast. Fuck.

Suddenly I’m on the floor, toppled over by a huge force, presumably from the root or hand or whatever the hell it was. Great – just come back to life and now I’m going to be eaten by some monster. But I’m wrong. Emerging out of the ground clawing an tearing at it, is Ter, my friend. Xyr blue skin is tinged red until he spots me and it fades into softer green.

‘Fenn, what is going on?’ xe says and wildly shakes off the same fluid still half-clinging to me.

‘Ter I’m so glad its you,’ I say and embrace xyr. ‘I don’t know. All I can remember is the lecture hall and then…’

‘Yes we were in space, unprotected. How are we here?’

There is another rustle from nearby. Professor Zanflip the Walran emerges from the ground dripping like us.

‘Fascinating,’ he says seemingly unperturbed. ‘That you gang? You been in the womb too? Did it feel like that for you? I feel like I’ve just been birthed but was conscious. Disgusting really but an experience nonetheless. Goodness – wait weren’t we?’

‘Yes Professor we were just saying that,’ I say. The Professor gets up on his flippers and sniffs the air.

‘Then how can we have…?’ He begins to say but is cut short. From behind comes a cold, steel-hard voice.

‘It was me. I saved you.’

 

Act 2

To my surprise and from what I can gather it begins to cry. It is certainly the creature from the university. It shut off the lights and then the gravity and then the place began to crash. I’m not sure if it is crying or screaming actually. It looks like a painting of a demon. It is vaguely humanoid (or fal-taprian I should say, bloody galactic education conditioning), but it as if it is formed by black smoke. Its face is like a skull, the eyes hollow and sunken but with a tight muscular mouth. But it is certainly upset. Next to me is a dry, sharp looking stick, I drag it from the ground and hold it up like a sword. I feel ridiculous but it’s the best I can do. I feel the Professor move a step forward a wave his flipper to say lower your weapon.

‘It is you isn’t it?’ he says. ‘From the university. What is your name?’

He’s amazing the Professor. He says this so calmly. I can tell it isn’t from fear either, he is simply concerned.

‘My name?’

‘Yes, yes. What is your name?’

‘I don’t know.’

The Professor gives me a warning nod of his eyebrow to stay back.

‘Was it the crash? Can you remember anything?’

‘I can remember everything. It’s just I’ve never had a name. My species we move in packs, or clans. We do not need names.’

‘Ah now we’re getting somewhere!’ The Professor smiles at me and winks. I respect the Prof’s kindness but I can feel hot rage boiling inside me.

‘Professor if you wouldn’t mind that’s the thing that crashed the university. The greatest seat of learning in the galaxy. I don’t think we should be talking to it.’ I can feel my claws slide out from my paws.

‘I am not an it. I am a he,’ it says towards me. Its voice is deeper now and raspier.

‘Calm down, calm down. That will not get us anywhere.’

‘And why? Because they wouldn’t let you in!’ I ignore the professor. ‘There must be thousands of people across the galaxy who haven’t got in – and you decide to crash it – how many people are dead…’ the sentence chokes me. It’s like I’ve suddenly been plunged into icy water.

‘It wasn’t my ability. It’s not that I didn’t get the grades. It was because they were scared, scared of me – scared of what they didn’t know…’ there is a shaky tone to its voice again, as if it has remembered it is upset.

‘I’m not bloody surprised. They probably saw it coming. What are upset for? Regret is it. I should think so too.’

I turn away for a moment and look out to the horizon. There’s the smoke again, over the hill, forming in a big funnel up into the atmosphere. Apart from that there is nothing, the rocky landscape stretching out forever. It looks like there aren’t even any animals here or even plants. No wonder the empire left it unregistered. Move on. Nothing to see here at all. I turn and see the shade on the other side of the dusty crater where we woke up. The Professor and Ter are standing awkwardly in the middle.

‘Fenn, Fenn.’ Ter says and looks at me with xyr round, blue face.

‘I’m sorry Ter, we should never be here. What are we going to do now?’ I say and feel hot stinging tears prick my eyes.

‘It’s not regret. The shade, the thing, he’s not feeling regret.’

‘Then what is it feeling?’ I shout. ‘Pride? Happiness? What else could any sentient being be feeling after this but regret?’ Why the hell did you save us – what so you can gloat? Is that it?’

Ter turns a deep shade of crimson and I immediately feel terrible.

‘I saved you because you understood. My body it can morph and fly. That’s how I entered the university through its systems and that’s how I brought you back down here.’

‘This is your home? This is where you’re from isn’t it?’ The professor says.

‘We call it Xcvervx. The Stone-Sphere. We live off the gas here in the earth and survive as the only species here.’

The shade separates and explodes into long tendrils of black smoke. The streams disappear into the earth and then shoot back out again and form back into a body.

‘Do you think I’m impressed?’ I say sounding like a little girl but meaning it.

‘I mean I am,’ The Professor says innocently.

‘I’ve had enough I really have. If you want to hang out with this terrorist unregistered than you can do.’

I clamber up the hill towards the funnel of black smoke. Eventually my hands reach the crest and I pull myself upwards. Before me is the source of the smoke. As if I could not have realised before. There in the valley below is the wreckage of the University of Pure Sight. A vast expanse of tunnels and huge hangers cracked and pulled open by the force of impact. I can glimpse piles of flesh within. In the middle there, the engine pulsates giving off waves of amber energy. It makes me sick to my stomach. There is a sound of air beside and I look to see the skull face of the shade.

‘I don’t feel regret. They deserved it. The galaxy deserves it. Your empire deserves it.’

‘Then why are you so sad?’ I say flatly.

‘It seems my people have gone. They have abandoned the planet. I am alone.’

‘Good. That’s all you deserve. Now leave us alone too.’

The shade disappears and I am left with the quiet throb of the dying space station.

 

Interlude

…I hear the word sanctions but I don’t know what it means.

 

There are no days anymore.

 

My teacher was a Walran but she is not my teacher anymore.

 

My tongue is the rocks of the land, it has become the same.

 

In the children’s home we are separated from those who are not Fal-Tap. Greddy throws rocks at them over the fence.

 

My eyes open and close at random. They are not mine anymore.

 

The playground beyond the fence is empty today and we are told it is ours again. Greddy starts throwing the rocks at us instead.

 

That thing saved us for nothing. He shouldn’t have save us at all.

 

I overhear the teachers in the corridor. ‘He’s got exactly what he wanted’, ‘We’ll never leave the planet again.’

 

This is it then, delayed but it is here at last. It was an epilogue on the story not a new chapter after all.

 

It was not their time. It was that someone else decided for them. I punch Greddy in the face and drag my claws through his skin.

 

I feel a trickle of liquid into my mouth. Water, water of life.

 

Act 3

The Walrans and the Sonva, the races of the Professor and Ter respectively are notably hardier than your basic intelligent humanoid shapes. Humans of course, Fal-Taps, the Creatise and Glooshas historically had short-form evolutions. They gained intelligence very quickly, relatively speaking, and haven’t really evolved since. But the races that were long-form, like tended to never stop going. They spent longer in various phases of their history, planet-bound, basic space etc. but their bodies adapted more cleanly and more strongly because they took their time.

In a desolate rock planet, with an energy seeping wreck of a space station my frail evolution soon started to wither until Ter and the Professor managed to find some water tanks spilling out over the earth. Their hardy skin blocked the radiation and finally they had found a tank closed and uncontaminated that brought me back from the cusp of another death.

‘It was creepy down there. The bodies looked like they were shifting. It’s the wreckage I’m sure but…’

They had found impact supply pods for such an emergency. Full of old-fashioned space food, all tubes and pastes. Ter squeezed some unappetizing grey matter into xyr mouth.

‘Did you feel anything?’ I say, perhaps tactlessly, I’m still not sure of the standard manners protocol around asking.

‘Nothing, there is no one there.’

‘This place would be fascinating to study, alas…’ the Professor said.

‘Alas what?’ I say.

‘Alas there’s no university, no equipment, not even pen and paper to write on.’

We sit for a moment in the soft light of the setting sun. We are sat in a circle, a three sided one at least. It feels like we are the very last people in the universe. We are on the last planet watching the last star die. Throughout my life, I’ve always looked up at the sky and felt it was bristling with life. I could always feel the spaceships fizzing through the sky off to central space to join the throng of the Capitol. But here on this planet, with the only civilisation it has ever known smoking and burning in the distance, it feels as if it all that life could be across the void – in another universe itself. What did I do to be so lost?

‘Then we start again. We make the equipment. Well I mean first we could make you know more pressing things like beds and a roof and a kettle but we could aim for it Professor what do you think?’

‘What’s the point,’ I say and mean it too. Ter is my friend but that idealism was fine for the university but now it just feels pathetic. I won’t say it though. ‘I mean people will be coming won’t they? A whole university falls out of the sky surely people will come and investigate? We wait.’

‘The nights are pretty cold and the impact pod won’t last forever. You’re still angry Ms. Fenn I don’t have to be a sonva to see that. But think of the Empire. It is bureaucracy at its best they won’t step in here unless they can be sure it is stamped, crossed and double checked. Anyway in unmarked space, they will think some outlying race has attacked. I wouldn’t be surprised if they leave it be. Pop up a false news comm. and forget it. We can’t rely on them.’

‘You’re right,’ I say. ‘The what do we do?’

‘Get you a spacesuit.’

 

*            *            *

 

I see the two little dots grow limbs and detail and eventually become people. They’ve done it I can see. Draped over the Professor’s shoulder is the limp spacesuit ready to be filled and Ter is holding the helmet tight in xyr arms, like a squirrel with a nut. I’m impatient because I want to get going. They are moving so slowly. The professor in typical Walran fashion waddles along stiffly. Oh shit – I realise. I’m a dick. He’s old. He must be what? 150? In standard years that’s about 80. He’s just gone into a broken down spaceship, possibly the most unstable place in the galaxy just to help me out. Right, I’m going to help. I am, I need to.

The plan is to salvage. It’s a concept we’re not used to on the central planets. Everything is always made new there and waste shipped off planet. They say in the old days they had to find waste deposits on world – must have been hell all that piling up. But here, in this barren world – the salvage is our salvation. We decided to start with one building. Four walls that’s all – and a roof. We fill it with everything we can. The impact pods should have held the cargo at least. The crash was sudden, but the buffers on those are on all the time. We decided as one to put all thoughts of the future on hold apart from this. This was my idea. If we think of the rest of our lives we will despair I know it. We start with one building.

‘Land ho!’ shouts the Professor with his flipper raised.

‘We’re on land,’ I laugh and run down the hill.

‘Ah yes. Well Spacesuit ho! Here we are Fenn,’ He passes me the spacesuit and I pull it on over my increasingly dirt clothes.

‘Someone’s a little more cheerful?’ he says.

‘Yes I noticed that,’ Ter says and turns a deep shade of blue.

‘Well you know, just thought I’d best get on with it. I’m still mad don’t get me wrong but the Shade seems to have cleared off and this isn’t our fault is it? We need to keep on.’

‘Just one building,’ The Professor taps his head.

‘Just one building,’ I smile back. ‘How was it in there?’

‘Weird,’ Ter says. ‘There were dark lumps of bodies in corners. And scorch marks on the roof. Some rooms were upside down and corridors on their end like towers. How can we make our home from that?’

Xyr skin folds in crimson red and then fiery orange. It is the sonva colour of upset that’s for sure but its more than upset. The colours are so complex and changing I think it is – impossibility, despair even.

‘Ter we start with just one building. Remember that. We’ll just start with the one.’

 

* * *

 

The corridor is dark apart from the squares of light marking the floor, the sun through former windows. We have four walls, dragged through the dirt like tank tracks in a war. There’s been no sign of the shade. If that thing ever came back I’m not sure what I’d do. But he’s gone and he’s never coming back.

‘Ter stay near me,’ I whisper.

‘Are we close?’

‘Yes not far off.’

We pass into a square of light and my face fur bristles with the sudden illumination through the screen. I’ve begin to live with a dirtiness I’ve never experienced. Each strand is coarse and wiry – parts of it on my legs have started to fall out although that might be just the radiation. The thought of a shower everyday now seems like an impossible luxury – one I will never have again. I step back into the shadows. The roof is just ahead. The Professor remembered the panelling used in office buildings. The cutthroat, sensitive world of academia seemed to be so brutal that the offices would change all the time in size and grandeur. When the new university was built they decided a more practical measure was needed so retractable glass panels were built that could be stretched and changed according to where the wind blew. To us though it would be glass to remind us to return to the sky once more.

‘What was that?’ xe says behind. Xyr right, there was a crash beyond the wall.

‘Nothing. There’s things breaking off everywhere. It’ll just be that.’

Ter takes my hand.

‘Let’s get the roof and get out of here.’

‘We’re fine. Yeah just up ahead.

Ter will be able to feel it that I’m scared. The Professor heard it too, the wreckage is full of noises that shouldn’t be there. Scratching. Moaning. Slamming of doors. We’ve not seen any survivors because there aren’t any. There can’t be any. Up ahead is the door to the cargo. Inside we have dragged day by day the food parcels, breaking through until we reach the glass panels. I heave open the door to the hold and go inside. The place is still full of things we don’t need. Mainly huge crates of books. Most people used their comm. units of course but the solid articles could also be requested. They are like tombstones now crowding in the dark.

‘It’s there at the back. We need three reams of it should be enough.’

‘And a glow-cube if there is one. The Professor said they should still be perpetuating.’

‘Ah yes. Will be nice to have some hot, well hotter at least food,’ I say and smile. Ter keeps on staring into the dark.

We walk through the cargo graveyard and I pick up a few glow-cubes that are scattered between bookshelves knocked over like a line of dominos.

‘They’re here, the roof is here,’ Ter shouts from beyond.

‘I’m coming!’ In my spacesuit everything feels heavy. It makes my breath like a broken vent. Wearing a spacesuit on a planet is like returning to the dark ages. Everything in history has been just a project to make things easier. The little things. Forget the politics the quests for meaning, it’s all just so we can breathe easier and go to sleep in a comfortable bed, I’m sure of it.

‘Fenn, come quick. Please, I’ve found the roof panels.’

‘I’m coming, I’m coming’

‘Fenn there’s something else here. Come quick.’

‘Shit what?’

I leap onto the bookcases and they start rolling from under me. I run along the top and feel each one drop from under me. Ter is just over the next set of crates. From above comes a deafening creak. The roof is going. I can see the cracks forming like the crust on a loaf. Shit. I leap over and see Ter cowering beneath the glass folded glass panels. I look around – there’s no one about I can see. On the panel of my helmet I see a line of dust form. I leap downwards, I know what’s coming. Above me the ceiling falls through bringing a vent or a corridor hurtling though. I slide through under the criss-cross forest of shelves.

‘Ter – I’m coming – what is it? What’s there?’

‘I don’t know. I can’t see it but I can feel it. It’s close.

‘What can you feel?’ I shout. Above the crates lurch under the new weight of the collapsed ceiling. I can just see a hole through if I crawl through the shelves.

‘I don’t know. Its like it doesn’t know. Its confused I think but angry. Like a child but its remembering that it isn’t. I don’t know.’

‘Don’t worry – I’m coming.’

I grab a rogue bar above and swing through kicking a mesh panel out the way. Behind me the collapsed ceiling rumbles and breaks through another floor.

‘Shit the floors gone behind.’

‘Take an extra glass panel – we can throw it across.’

I reach Ter and embrace xyr tight. I grab a few reams of the flexible glass and strap them to my back keeping one spare.

‘Is it still here?’

‘No I don’t think so. It might have been beneath the floor. I imagine the collapse…’

‘We’ll worry about it later – we need to get out first.’

The quiet cargo hold is now as mass of fire and fizzing jets of steam. Its like the crash has happened all over again. Through holes in walls I can see other parts crashing and cracking. Former lectures theatres turned to dust by engines above them. Living quarters smashing into kitchens. Everywhere heat and metal and fire.

‘Come on!’ I take xyr hand and head to the ceiling crater.

Below is what looks a map of the lower decks with a dirty streak obscuring the middle. It is a part of the top engine that has fallen through; the cargo shield must have finally given way. It’s like an open metal toothed jaw ready to swallow us up. This is last moments for the university – its final dying breath. I throw the glass panels out and it snaps into a long, clear bridge.

‘You’re not scared,’ Ter says matter of factly.

‘What of course I am!’

‘Well you are but you’re excited. I can feel it remember. Scared and excited. And you know what I think I am too.’

I smile at my gentle friend and we run out of the fiery jaws of the university and back into the wasteland.

 

Interlude.

The teacher in the school is angry with me.

 

The stars are so bright.

 

And suddenly I am angry with her. It comes from nowhere like a sudden volcano.

 

How can they say this is an outlying planet? We are at the centre of everything.

 

I draw my claws and she steps back. Her tails stiffens. ‘You sit down now Fenn, NOW!’

 

I wonder where the shade is now. Does he feel regret now? Does he still wallow?

 

I drag them along the table instead. She says clearly ‘You’ll never amount to anything with an attitude like that.’

 

The blankets we have made are coarse but comforting.

 

Everyday I work harder. I have nothing else to do. No family. Barely any friends. Just the work – the refreshing work to get me through.

 

Here on the stone-sphere I can be queen of this new world. My eyelids are heavy…

 

I remember it so clearly. There on my comm. unit. ‘Welcome to the University of Pure Sight…’

 

Act 4

It is the evening after we erected the roof. The Professor has proved his genius time and again. Deftly cutting shapes and panels into things we needed that hadn’t even crossed my mind. Like a chimney for an inside fire. We sit on dusty chairs in the sandy dirt that makes the floor of our simple shack round the crackling warmth. Since the collapse in the store room the mood has been sombre. Everything we have is now here and it won’t last forever. Boxes line the walls and are stacked up high with salvaged materials. The past few days all we have talked about has been practicalities. Now the basics were in place and our lives are suddenly stretching out in front of us. At least I don’t have to wear the spacesuit here.

‘I wonder where the shade has got to?’ Ter says.

‘I don’t care,’ I say back. I don’t mean to snarl at xyr but I do.

‘He said that his people were gone. He was on his own now.’

‘Good. He’s got what he deserved.’

‘I don’t know Fenn, if we look at it from his perspective…,’ Says the Professor like a typical academic.

‘From his perspective? He is a terrorist. He didn’t get what he wanted so he throws his dummies out of the pram.’ I can feel my voice rising and choking with emotion. ‘We survived. But only on his whim! Think of all the people down there who have died. You’re friends, colleagues. All dead. His perspective means nothing.’

I suddenly start to cry in huge heaving gulps. The Professor waddles over to me.

‘What is it? Fenn, tell me what is it?’

I run away, out of the scraggy door covered with an old tarpaulin and out into the chilly night. My tail is stiff and alert. The memories flood through and suddenly they are all around me like a dream. A dream that has no end and no beginning. It is constant and forever. The night is silent apart from the soft shifting of sands on the horizon. In the sky burns a bright purple moon colouring the night like a painting.

‘Fenn, you’re hurting. This is not about the shade is it?’

It is Ter, who has coloured light gentle pink, making him look almost like a human. Behind xyr is the Professor, his old face lined with hurt.

‘I’m so sorry Professor, I didn’t mean…’ I throw my arms around the old Walran and squeeze hard.

‘Not too tight my dear I am a 150,’ He smiles and then frowns again. ‘This is not about the shade is it?’

We return to the fire and sit on the chairs.

‘I… When I was a youngling… I… Professor do you remember the attack on the Fal-Tapria?’

‘How could I forget? The single greatest political event I the last 10 standards. It took the Empire years to even get the Fal-Tap Royal House to let non-indigenous shuttles through their airspace.’

Ter looked on gravely. Everyone knew of the attack. A hover-truck full of explosives had somehow sped through from the upper atmosphere and launched into the palace of my race’s home planet. Thousands died. It was pinned on an undesignated species from sector 6. If the case for the Empire’s expansion hadn’t been cemented already – it was now.

‘My parents were there when the truck hit the palace. They worked in the kitchens right above where it hit. If the impact didn’t get them the explosion certainly would’ve done. I dream about it every night. I didn’t understand it for years. But now I do…’

‘I’m so sorry Fenn, often us academics can forget that are people at the centre of these events not just politics,’ the Professor says and lays a warm flipper on my shoulder. ‘If the Shade comes back there will be no mercy! No forgiveness! I will fashion a defence system – something to keep him away.’

I notice, as the Professor speaks that Ter is turning shades of green and red. I’m not sure what it means. Suddenly xe bursts out.

‘The shade didn’t mean it. Not really. I’m sorry about your parents Fenn but the shade is young like you and me. It was rash and made a mistake. When we woke up I felt it – I felt it all. He must have been putting it on later. I was confused.’

‘I don’t care what you felt Ter,’ I say hotly. ‘ I agree with the professor, tomorrow we’ll start some defences.’

The night rustles in the background and we head to bed in silence.

 

* * *

 

I wake with a start. Its Ter shaking me awake.

‘Fenn,’ xe says. ‘Fenn, I can feel it again – the same thing from the university –it’s here.’

‘What? What are you talking about?’ I say blearily.

I sit up and see the Professor hastily putting on a dressing gown. Where in the galaxy did he get that? Never mind.

‘Professor,’ I say. ‘Is there any chance anything could have survived the crash?’

‘I mean we did for starters.’

‘No but anything inside?’

‘The impact pods wouldn’t have helped – they’d have crushed the people around them – the storage units are too big. I’m not sure. All sorts went on at the university. If there were even slight survivors – people on the brink of death perhaps they could have been affected. This is all theoretical of course.’

‘What do you mean affected?’

‘Well the place, while damaged, was still full of medibots, nanomedics, radiation of all sorts. I’m not sure. Perhaps something did survive – something that didn’t pick up on the scans.’

‘Shit,’ I say and run outside – it’s all darkness, the purple moon has left the sky.

‘Quick, turn on the lights outside Professor.’

He waddles over and heaves down a heavy switch on the floor. Immediately illuminated are figures on the horizon. They are deep black and grey as if charred and burnt. They are stumbling forward like zombies.

‘You were right. Something survived,’ I shout. ‘Ter what are they feeling?’

I can see Ter is holding xyr head in pain. ‘I can’t…So many voices, so many feelings. I’m not used to it.’

The creatures stumble and crawl. Some are without legs or arms. Cracks in their bodies glow with different colours. Some ooze dark liquids over their dry bodies.

‘Ter what is it?’

‘They are… ahhhhh….hungry.’

‘Can we help them?’ The Professor says.

‘No – they’re hungry for – us.’

They’re getting closer and closer. They’re in the crater now. We’ve have no defences. Barely a building even. These are the people of the university. Or what’s left of them. There are hundreds of them coming over the hill. Clawing and reaching towards us. They must have sensed us when we got the supplies. I wonder what they will do to us?

‘They’re on every side,’ Ter shouts.

‘Professor inside!’

‘I can’t think Fenn, I’m not a solider – I’m an academic. I don’t know.’

‘It’s okay – we’ve had more time than we should have anyway. Time to go I think. Join the fellow students,’ I say and cling to my friends in the dark shack. The hands are breaking through the walls and a figure stumbles through the door. Suddenly, just as I resign myself to my delayed death there it is again. The first time, it was the cause and now it is the solution. The air is filled with black smoke. The creature through the door is propelled back by it. It howls a nightmare scream. The grabbing charred hands shoot backwards through their holes. I run to the door. There is a swirling, shooting line of black smoke like a wall round our shack.

‘Its him – it’s the shade!’ Ter shouts.

I can see the creatures scramble and crawl over the edges of the crater. They are retreating. The shade forms again in front of me.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘I really am.’

‘You saved us again,’ I whisper. ‘Thank you.’

‘He’s telling the truth,’ Ter says. ‘He feels regret.’

‘I do,’ he says. ‘I know this world, I can help you. Help you start again.

I look to the Professor and then to Ter. Their faces are dark in the shack but even without being a Sonva I can tell what they are feeling.

I brush my hands over the fur on my ears.

‘You answer to me. Fenn.’ I say, pointing. ‘Do you understand?’

In its skull face, it is hard to tell, but I think I detect a hint of a smile. Four of us then, four unlikely friends starting our new world.

 

Epilogue.

My parents, a grey-furred strong Dad and a gentle amber mother. They smile down at me and point at the starships whizzing through the sky from the flat window. ‘You’ll be there one day my love,’ they say and squeeze me tight. ‘You can be anything you want to be. A Captain, an adventurer, a queen of your own world…’

 

Galactic News: New Writers + Vol.3 + Submissions.

GALACTIC NEWS UPDATE FRESH TO YOUR COMM. MMM SMELL THAT NEWS.

Hey Space Explorers how you doing? Here’s all the latest news and updates coming soon to Galaxy.

New Writers

The Galaxy Team is expanding! In the next volume we will be welcoming three new writers to bring new places and designated species to life. The idea of Galaxy is to give writers at any stage in their writing life a chance to experiment and play with science-fiction so please welcome our brand new Space Cadets.

gez-picEmma Geraghty

 

Emma works as a writer/director with award-winning Manchester theatre company Powder Keg. She has been shortlisted for Write Now Live with Penguin Random House for The Matinee Dog (still writing it, no pressure, totally not panicking) focussing on gender and sexuality in industrial revolution Manchester.

bekcy-picBecky Kinge

Becky is a final year English Language and Creative Writing student at Lancaster University who enjoys drinking wine and writing silly stories about supernatural friendship. She’d currently like to go into publishing or the media, but mainly just wants enough money to provide for her future dog.

chad-picChad Bunney.

Chad Bunney is a 21 year old writer from West Yorkshire who is currently spending a few months in Belfast working away on the novel he hopes to get published one day. He is thrilled to have been asked to join Andrew Ainscough’s Galaxy project and hopes that as the project continues to grow he can add a star or two to Ainscough’s collection.

Vol.3

 

Just like that Volume 2 whizzed by. We’ve had time travel, sewer monsters and another ludicrous outing from Raincha and his purple friends. What next for the Galaxy? For a tantalising glimpse check out the titles of Volume 3 below:

BLOODSHOT by Emma Geraghty

SHIPWRECKED by Andy Ainscough

BROKEN BUTTONS AND SACRED SILENCES by Becky Kinge

CAPTAIN RAINCHA AND THE TOMB OF DREAMS by Andy Ainscough

OF MAYFLY MEN by Chad Bunney

STARLIGHT. CAMERA. ACTION! by Andy Ainscough.

Can’t wait for another wild ride!

Submissions

We’ve already got some brilliant writers but I want more! If you have an idea for a story – then get involved! The beauty of galaxy is that practically anything and everything can be a story – so if you have a burning idea I want to hear it. As with the other volumes there will be six stories, each with an accompanying soundtrack. So if you would like to get involved and write for Vol.3. please send the following to galaxyscifi1@gmail.com by 15th April 2017:

 

A title

 

A brief summation of your story, moment and/or theme

 

A suggestion of your soundtrack.

 

 

If you wish to reuse characters or are unsure about certain aspects of the galaxy please don’t hesitate to get in touch! If your story isn’t right for Vol.4 it may well be for Vol.5 (or beyond!).

 

That’s all for Galactic News. If you have any questions, comments, or suggestions don’t hesitate to get in touch via the contact page!

Keep exploring,

 

Andy Ainscough

Galaxy Curator.

 

The Rubber Mice

GALACTIC CO-ORDINATES: 123-04-01-01

SUGGESTED SOUNDTRACK: (See spotify link at end)

The planet, Tix and its sister Tox seemed the perfect place for the scientist Pref Terin to hold his experiments. They were situated close enough the centre of the galaxy to pick up some residual of the great black hole but far enough not to be sucked in. Little did he know, that wherever he held his experiments, he would always have the same result.

Pref Terin, normal looking to an extent, as least your basic human standard, had always been an ambitious man. You could see it in his keen eyes, blue like lighting and a brow that questioned you before he’d even opened his mouth. As a boy, in the housing reefs of Nep1, he had tinkered in the corner of the lean-to that housed their family. During the day he would scavenge in the undergrowths of the reeds, picking apart the debris that had fallen from the ring and the passing ships. He found tiny things, a screw, a sliver of foil, a crusted bit of ancient ore. But they were all treasures to him. He used to take them back and hide them about his person. This soon earned him the nickname Clink as he would jingle with metal as he walked. He would place his findings in front of him and try and fit them together. And he did, eventually. It was just a jigsaw puzzle to him, one that hadn’t been made yet. Eventually all the pieces fit together.

At university, a scholarship at Pure Light on Ma1, he found his inclinations to piece-fitting enabled him other gifts. He saw the lines of politics and history form in ebbs and flows. Each decision rippling like a pebble in a pond, making perfect sense as it happened. The dissolving of the Six United, the forming of the empire, the election of Tabitha Might, he could see each step like a map. But he always wanted more. This was only recent history; he wanted to see every step. See how the machine of the Galaxy fit together. To find its inner workings.

In his lab, the Trans-Molecular Engineering Department, in the last year of his undergraduate degree odd things started to happen. On his desk toy mice would appear. At first, he had come back to it after lunch and there it was by his keyboard. A small rubbery toy mouse. As anybody would, he dismissed it as a prank. Ot even if it wasn’t a prank, Professor Zanflip was quite eccentric, it could well be his an off cut of his latest work. But then the toy mice started quite literally appearing. It was always at night too, as the machines snored around, Pref would be there tinkering with ghost atoms and with a pop! a mouse would appear. Peculiar, he thought. He would run down to the Advanced Teleport department but no one was ever there. Even the AI’s were in sleep mode. He checked the shield runnings and they were fine, he knew the university’s policy. No shield up – no experiments. Otherwise the readings would be off. But there it was like clockwork – a toy rubber mouse.

As the days went on Pref would become more and more anxious for its arrival. His fellow students didn’t believe him – they put it down to late night hallucinations – a result of the overworked piecer-togetherer. But Pref knew. He started to wait for it to capture the moment. He recorded it too. There was a brief buzz and a slight flash of blue light. Every time the same, he would play the recordings obsessively through the day. It didn’t drop from the sky it formed fully on the table. But never anything else, just a mouse each time. He began to avoid all other work, even eating and sleeping came secondary to the appearance of the mouse. But it was always the same. Until one very special day. A day that would change Pref’s life forever.

Pref was waiting at his desk for his nightly arrival. He sat back, with a big mug of coffee intently watching the spot. His desk looked like a huge, heavily armed missile deck all aimed at the same spot. There were cameras at all angles, heat sensors draped over liked delicate arms smoking cigarettes, lenses whizzed and whirred like a pack of paparazzi waiting for the latest star. The time was running on the computer, any minute Pref knew it would arrive. As the clock carried towards midnight, there it was, right on time, the instruments everywhere sprang into life. There was a brief pop and a flash and there it was – the offering of the day. But this time it was different. Attached to the mouse, by a little slip of tape was a note. Pref scrambled forward. It said: Note the Decay. He shuddered. The note was written in his own handwriting.

Pref wasted no time. He ran to the Department of Quantum Geology and brandished the mouse in the Secretary’s face.

‘I need… I need to use the machine… the one… oh I know which one…’

He panted and brandished his student card. Before the poor man behind the desk could protest, Pref ran into the department and into the nearest study room. Inside was a group of bewildered looking Walrans with clipboards.

‘Erm…sorry…,’ Pref said. ‘Orders from… Proffesor Zanflip… I need this room.’

The nearest Walran raised a fleshy eyebrow. ‘I don’t think so, we’ve just been in class with him.’

Pref noted that there was no loyalty amongst Walran. ‘… You didn’t let me finish… Professor Zanflip…and the Vice-Chancellors… right away.’

‘Fine. We were finished anyway.’ The Walrans with eight pairs of suspicious folded flippers slid out the room tutting as they went.

Pref ran over to the machine that filled the room and placed the mouse in the hatch. He stood behind the screen and watched as the readings spread across it. He traced his finger along it. The machine was there to register the atomic decay of objects. A dating machine that had been around for thousands of years. As he followed the line the pattern formed in his mind. He gasped. Strands of atoms started appearing that were dated next week and the week after and months and years down the line. The mouse was from the future.

And so the work began. Years later he still remained at the university completing his PhD, ‘Towards a Practical Time Travel’ – nearly rejected until the intervention of Prof. Zanflip, a lover of the stranger investigations. The mice became infrequent but when they did arrive it would always come with a note. It would be a suggestion of a metal, a hastily scrawled equation. Each one proving a breakthrough for Pref. As the years went by, his hair grew unkempt and remained on end however hard he tried to comb it. His eyes formed deep bags underneath them. His hands became worn and coarse. He kept what he called the breakthrough mouse with him at all times. He toyed with it in his pocket as he walked, he kept it by his bed in the rare hours he slept. After he while, he noticed the mouse begin the change. Not just in general wear and tear but in its whole appearance. One day it would look ancient. Holes would appear in it and the plastic would crust and decay. The next day it would form over smooth and new. He knew what was happening. Whatever he was creating in the future – it was unstable. He thought about the jigsaw. Everything in his life so far he had fitted the pieces together. But this time – there were so many holes and nothing to fill them with.

In the last year of his PhD, strings were finally coming together. In his lab a vast machine had been constructed. It was like a tank out of an ancient sci-fi film, all arms and legs and big blocky chunks of steel. It all revolved around a central platform that glowed blue with a pulsating heartbeat. All around the room, on every shelf and flat surface, on the windowsills and scattered across the floor were hundreds and hundreds of rubber mice. The thing about sending things in time is that you’re never quite sure if you’ve done it. The thing just disappears and then you’re left with no idea if it reached, or reaches its destination. So Pref started setting dates. In three weeks time, he would run the machine and send a toy mouse back to today. As soon as he finished putting the note in his diary – there it was. A toy mouse appeared on his desk. It was working. It was finally working! So he set the date every day and there the mouse appeared. A full cycle of mice. Pref, now wild with joy as the pieces formed more and more, dug through his old diaries. There were the dates, each mouse was logged and recorded. He took a mouse and attached a note, something recent from a few months back, Try X’kair hair for the plaster lines. He fired up the machine and sent it. Suddenly he remembered it arriving more clearly, as if the circuit had been completed. He cheered and ran his hands through his hair. Little did he know, in his excitement that standing by the door was Professor Zanflip accompanied by a human, a man of about forty, with a neat haircut and a dark grey suit. The human gave a slight cough.

‘Ah, who are you?’ Pref exclaimed. ‘Oh sorry didn’t see you there Professor…’

‘Hello Pref – you’ve been working hard I know! I used to be like that myself when I got caught up in something. Getting on a bit now though ha! Don’t have the energy anymore!’

Pref looked towards the other man with an unproceeding glare.

‘Ah yes. Sorry Pref to intrude but talk of your amazing work has got round. And this is…’

‘Consto Grant. Nice to meet you Mr. Terin.’ The man held out his grey hand from the grey suit. Pref didn’t move from the control point of his machine. ‘I am a representative of her grace Empress Tabitha Might. I run the department for Empire-led Galactic Advancement.’

‘Never heard of it.’ Pref said.

‘Now now Pref, he’s from the government,’ Professor Zanflip said and fired a warning glance his way.

‘I am indeed. We have heard that you are working on a practical application of time travel am I correct?’

‘No. Well sort of. You’re simplifying it, it’s more time displacement. I can send things – like sending a GMessage. Zip. Zip zap.’

Consto raised his eyebrows, ‘Zip zap?’

‘Yes I zip things through time. Mr Grant what is you want?’

‘I have a question for you.’

‘Oh yes? And what’s that?’

‘I understand you have been running your experiments with rubber mice. Is this correct?’

‘Yes’

‘Tell me. Would it… I don’t know…transport say a human?’

The same evening, Pref left the university of Pure Sight under the cover of darkness. He knew exactly why the man had come. He knew exactly what he had wanted. Throughout all his experiments, Pref had always known that sooner or later people would take notice. Legends of time travel had been around for thousands of years. It was the holy grail of the modern technological age. But he also knew that nothing good could come of it. If he refined it, say into a handheld device, then designated species could zip back and forth causing all sorts of trouble and if the Empire has sole control of it… well, he shuddered at the thought. But he knew he had to carry on. He knew he did carry on. All the messages he had received at the beginning – he hadn’t sent them yet. Somewhere he knew he keeps on going.

When he was young, his mother gave him a number and a name. She had given it to her all her children and said it was ‘A lifeline for when things get rough.’ They all asked her questions but were scolded. After a hitching a few lifts Pref arrived at docking bay shanty village a few systems over. It was all rusted browns and greasy cloths clutching on the edge of an asteroid. He opened his communicator and typed in a message. There’s a room at the University of Pure Sight. TME Ph4. I need the contents bringing to me when the time is right. He felt stupid. Who was at the other end? After a moment there was a buzz on his comm. It was a message. I’ll do my best. Send the word FLARE when you’re ready. We’ll find you. All best. San Ya (Proprietor.) He looked up from the dirty platform and wondered where in the sky San Ya was.

* * *

 

Eventually, Pref Terin, genius and spotter of patterns made it to and abandoned city on Tix. Enough digestible vegetation to keep him stable and no one in light years to bother him. San Ya had come up trumps. A couple of days after sending the word, a young Bonso had arrived bearing a crate filled with a hulking great machine and thousands of rubber mice. He had asked himself in the days that followed why he didn’t just destroy the thing, run off to the outskirt planets and have done with it. But it was the adventure that stopped him. He knew that if he could get it right then there’s the galaxy in his hand. Not in a way of control but just to see it. To witness a time when planets still wondered if there was anyone else there. When the only conceivable way of travelling through space was to send people out for thousands of years. See the discovery of new people and places. To see the strand of history link together. He could predict the future, not by even going there but by tracing each line towards its destination – there could be no other outcomes. He had to know.

His office was now a warehouse in the middle of the dead city. He had built solar panels all along the streets and the wires that connected them made the city look like the inside of a computer. The time machine was now twice the size at least. It had four huge legs and a roof of spiky circuitry that loomed over the central panel for sending things back. Everywhere there were scattered boxes of mice. In the first weeks, he was terrified that the Empire would track him down. But as the weeks and years passed he grew into his own world. It was as if he was constructing a gateway or more so a tunnel. That if he dug a little each day eventually he would make it through, into the light on the side. Whilst the mice were still very much present, he had graduated to larger things. The odd fruit would appear in his hand weeks off being sent back. Then a box of odd ends crashed out the sky in front him. Once a dead goat fell on him whilst sleeping. Something told him, the heat perhaps, that it was alive when it was sent. But soon, live goats came through, bewildered but bleating and relatively happy when they picked themselves up. After a while things would appear with strange collars on them and then shoot back into the air. He had discovered a way back. It was a peculiar sensation watching his discoveries appear a few weeks before he made them. But the sight of them always pursued him on to make them. As is the paradox with time travel. He knew that soon it would be him on the platform – taking the plunge into the unknown.

One day, there was a glow from the corner of the room. Pref ran over expecting to see another gift from the future. It was a goat but it was still glowing. He checked the tag, he had recorded them all to keep track, this one arrived last week, it hadn’t been sent back. It suddenly wretched and then clambered around finding its feet. It was like a newborn, just out the womb. Then it fell to the ground and lazily reared its head and smelled like it couldn’t see. Pref fetched his stunner and put it out of its misery.

Eventually the day came that he had longed for. He had set up a chair in on the platform and extended the range. It was a short trip back, relatively speaking, just to a little before he arrived and then straight back. He swung all the parts in place and clipped the lifeline round his waist. Around him were mirrors on every side. The man before him, he barely recognized, he was covered in shaggy hair, dirty and thin. All over him were cuts and bruises like an ancient map. He ignored it. He picked up the big stick he had fashioned and jammed it into the on switch. The machine roared and then all he saw was light. After a few minutes his surroundings bled into existence. He lay panting on the floor with a tingle all over his body. It was the warehouse. But there was no machine, no mice. It had worked. He patted himself down. He was intact – no new damage at least. He felt a tug in his lower belly. The lifeline was already bringing him back. With the same sensations he was suddenly back in the chair with his creation all around him.

* * *

 

At first he thought he was through the tunnel – that his years of experiments were over and it was a success. But then as the readings came, after a few weeks, he realized that he was wrong. He remembered the mouse, the first mouse with the note on it. How its atoms fluctuated in age. The way its plastic had decayed and reformed. How he had ignored it. The goat too. As he stared at the readings from his own body he knew it was happening to him too. Then he saw it. In the mirrors his face lost its beard. His long hair grew back into his head. It revealed his blue eyes and his quizzical brow. He was young again. The thoughts came with it too. The puzzling over the galaxy. The obsession with mechanics and history. He felt like a little boy. An urge came over him for his mother, a deep longing for her. To run into her many dressed and cling on for dear life. But suddenly he would wretch over and in the mirror before him was an old man but not just old – rotten. Gnarled. It was as if his skin was peeling off like a cooked onion. It was grey-black and charred too. He wasn’t dead though he was alive. He felt wise. As if he didn’t need to discover anything more, not because he didn’t need to but because he was beyond that now. As if his mind was now on a different plane. He reverted between the ages and everything between. Every time he returned to his proper age, the cuts would be worse, he’d be in more pain, the skin was beginning to disintegrate. It was as if he was rotting. The time travel had displaced him, his own atoms didn’t know where they were. He was becoming both a newborn child a living corpse. He would have waves of visions too. From places he didn’t know. Two warriors on a hilltop. Civilizations falling and rising. A man trundling from an ancient ship hopping in the low gravity. The rubber mice again and again.

There was only one thing left to do, he knew. He had one message left to send back. One message that he knew he had to write because he had already written it. He morphed into a young man and for a moment saw clarity. He scrawled the note and then attached it to a rubber mouse. As he did, his hands screamed in pain as they decomposed in front of him. With a huge heave he pressed the on switch sending the small rubber mouse back in time. In the last light of the time travel he saw the words Note the Decay.

* * *

In the University of Pure Sight, the young Pref Terin gasped as the daily rubber mouse, this time, for the first time, had a note attached. Note the Decay it said. He ran full speed to investigate.

From the Realms of Glory

GALACTIC CO-ORDINATES: 19-25-06-01

 

SUGGESTED SOUNDTRACK: (See Spotify Link at End) A Christmas Cornucopia (Album), Annie Lennox.

 

 

 

I swing through the air and I love it. Here there are clouds and nothing else. Each one is another world for me to explore. I have wanted my full wings for a while and they are nearly there. When it is time to sleep, in the black clouds, I count my feathers. Some time ago there were a couple of sprouts and then a tuft and then two full round feathers. That was a good day. A few weeks after that I didn’t have to ride on my mother’s back any more.

Today is an exciting day. We start the journey to the star. Every year, as is expected, we do a full ring of the cloud rock. A full journey means a year. The last stretch is the route to the top north of the rock and above is the star. Our bright shining lord. I have made this journey as long as I remember but always clinging to my mother’s back. This time I get to do it on my own.

Up ahead is my mother, she is stirring from her sleep. Her face, round and pink, is just moving. She smiles and opens her wide eyes. He wings lull sleepily just keeping afloat. We have walked on the ground before and I have seen my mother do it many times, but we prefer not too, sleeping in the clouds is best. My mother smiles and embraces me, we are high up now and below is a valley with spirals of grey and white towers. She nods forward and flies smoothly. My mother is the best flier I’ve ever seen, she can twirl and backflip, and go lighting fast. I wish I could fly like her.

I’m looking across the cloud waiting for my family to wake up. Suddenly with pops across the white swirls they shoot upwards and shake off the night’s sleep. They are everywhere. One of my brothers swoops past; he is fully grown now and even has a bright white beard. He drops some food into my hand. Him and the others must have gone down to the surface for some supplies. It is fruit today, a round red thing. I know it’ll be good, the food changes across the surface as we travel but here on the star path it is always best. I bite into it and the red juice flows down my cheeks, it is sweet like the moment you break through into the sun.

There is a bellow – the call of the tribe mother. She is my great-grandmother, I learned the other week, but we all call her Tribe Mother. She has a huge set of wings, bigger than I’ve ever seen and can even move clouds with them so I’m told. She is kind but also scary. Everyone follows her path. As we always do we rise up into the sky above the cloud valley. All my brother and sisters are here. My cousins too and their parents. Hundreds of pairs of everything. Smooth legs and chests, feathered wings, soft eyes. The tribe mother is pointing in circles and swining her arms round. I know what this means, I think. We have to fly through the valley separately as not to disturb the formation too much. I don’t know quite what formation means, only that it is hard to say. I was taught this by my father long ago, he has gone down below gathering now forever. I miss him. Last year he was here on the star path.

It is important we make it to the star point to say thank you. It is there under the light that our people were born. They say once we walked on the ground but one day a child was born and on his back were tiny stumps. At first they thought he was strange, the ground dweller had smooth backs. But as he got bigger they saw the stumps grow into beautiful wings. As they saw him take off into the sky they found wings growing on their backs too and joined him in the sky forevermore. I love this story. The thought of walking all my life glued to the surface makes me shudder.

The tribe sings in response to the tribe mother’s bellow. I sing high and clear. At each age we are given a new note, a new voice to show our place and to show how we fit in. The singing fits together perfectly and echoes out across the sky. Suddenly there is movement everyway, water splatters across my face as my cousin swoops up past me, he turns quickly and laughs then shoots off again. I see the gatherers separate from a huddle as they fly through a hole. The tribe are separating into their passages. I know mine. I’m to go on the outside, through the thin wispy white. An easier route for me. I wanted to go through the middle but my mother wouldn’t let me. I see the valley beyond me. On the other side, just colouring the horizon is the deep clear. Out of the clouds we will come into nothing. Just a patch of open sky. Then it will be the new year.

I am feeling sick. I’ve never flown for so long before. I want to be on my mother’s back still, moving through the middle not out here on my own.

I take a deep breath and fly down over the clouds and turn left towards the edges of the valley. Things feel a little darker than before. The white is turning grey. I see my cousins turn right, some of them are young too and are taking the wisps at the other side. My mother is just heading down and looks at me. She nods and smiles and then disappears. I reach the edges of the cloud valley, beyond are clouds too thin to keep us afloat and after that another valley. My wings are already feeling tired, they’re not used to beating for so long. Now there is silence everywhere, I can’t hear the cries and laughter of my family just the wind. I am alone now.

This is why they make us go to the edge. I always wondered as I watched my brothers and sister go the edge of the cloud valley why they couldn’t come with us. But it is to make them fly alone and now it is time for me to fly alone. I set off smoothly through the thin edges. I thrust forwards and twirl. I want to see the sky above but all around is becoming greyer. I turn on to my back and soar. Fear grips me. It shouldn’t be happening not at this time of year but there it is. Crawling like a herd of surface beasts over the top of the valley is a storm. It is black and huge and crackling with lighting. Suddenly it is over me and raining fiercely. The drops are sending the wisps flying to the ground. I fly forward and sing outwards. The rumbles from above are deafening.

I stop and look around. There is no one there. The storm is moving thick and fast to the middle of the valley. The tribe must be right in the middle of it. There is a crack of lighting to my right. I leap away. Everywhere seems to charged with electricity. Another bolt strikes just by me. and then another one up ahead. Its like I’m in a cage I’m trapped. I fly lower and lower there’s nothing I can do. Eventually I dip below and see the brown rockiness of the surface. Up ahead is a battleground. I can’t see any of the tribe. Not one has dipped below.

I can’t go back up. I can’t go to the surface. This must have been me. I must have failed the path because I was scared. Because I doubted the path. Now we will never get to the star. Now a new year will never begin. It is my fault. I hover with my wings outstretched and wait in shame. If the boy with the first wings started our journey in the sky, I am the one who has ended it.

I hover for what feels forever but I eventually I hear the rumbles move off into the distance, the sky is lighter as usual but it is still so quiet. I look around. Far off there is no sign of anyone else. If I am the only one left then. I have to make it to the star no matter what.

The edges of the valley are clearer now but still feel scattered. It’s as if the map has been cut up into pieces. I wonder where the tribe mother is. I long to hear her deep, rumble voice. I fly upwards over the ridges and further into the valley. I don’t care about the rules I just want my family now. But there is no one around. Not a catch of laughter or a moment of song. Here the clouds are thicker in scoops and I flow over them. My wings are not tired any longer, they feel strong. I am becoming old now, much older and stronger than before. The deep blue on the horizon is getting closer. I must prepare for myself alone. If I am there though, if I make it then at least we still give thanks, at least the new year will begin.

I can see it up ahead the last wall of cloud out of the valley and into the clear at the star path’s end. I burst through into the clear blue. My eyes fill with light but my ears with something else. It is singing, singing in beautiful harmony. The low rumbles of the elders, the mellow middle notes of the mothers, the sweet highs of the young. As my eyes adjust there in the clear blue is my tribe, my family their wings outstretched and signing their song of thanks. I fly towards my mother and she embraces me.

‘I got lost,’ I sign. ‘I’m sorry…’

‘I know my child. You have brave the storm my dear not go under it, always brave the storm.’