The Rift Rider (17 page)

They were right.
The moment the child passed through, he became a solid boy-shaped lump of
pinkness. He sucked in the foreign air and, enraged at this sudden change in
environment, wailed, his little fists shaking. The rollers watched on, hidden
behind the invisible rift, their energy fields flickering with worry, until to
their collective relief they saw an alien man pick up screaming child and walk
away.

They had hoped
that one day, the boy would remember his upbringing, activating his inherent
ability to cross back into the Divide. They spent years waiting for his return.
But he never came back. The rollers concluded his memories and abilities
remained locked inside the dark recesses of his mind.

The rollers
missed the child terribly. To honour him they collected the memories of Heilo
and Sunni, imprinted on the Divide the moment they crossed over. The rollers
used them to create a song, an epic they would sing forever. It told of the
couple's love, their sacrifice and the child they bore, a child like no other,
a child of both the Universe and the divide, a child of light and form.

Beyond the Divide,
in the forever growing expanses of the Universe time passed ever onwards. On
Earth, the boy grew to become a man. While On Seenthee, the Corporation pieced
together what remained of Heilo Krest's research and in time began fresh
experiments. Twenty or so years after Heilo's death, the Corporation finally
managed to produce their own version of the rift engine, a cousin to Heilo's
lost device. They took it out to the edge of the Pass and once again a rift was
torn. Only this time it remained open for a fraction of the time and allowed
nothing through it.

Yet it was
enough for the rift engine to hit a reset button in the Divide, demanding that
which had been sent away so long ago to be returned to its rightful place in
the Universe. Charlie was coming home whether he liked it or not.

The rollers felt
it but were powerless to stop it. However, they could stall it, letting Charlie
return when they were ready. They needed someone to receive the returning child
at the rift site, somebody they could trust. The rollers held council to choose
their hero. The vote was unanimous. Brother Yojim.

Through their
communication with the robundee pathfinders, the rollers knew Brother Yojim believed
the Corporation had killed Heilo, Sunna and their unborn child. Overcome with
guilt for failing the young couple, he had become a recluse putting an end to
his path finding days. He was sure to feel a heavy responsibility towards the
child. That made him the perfect choice for the rollers.

The rollers sent
a message out to every Pathfinder that contacted them; tell Brother Yojim his
chance had come to make a mends for his failure.

Brother Yojim got
the message and, curious, took his battered craft out into the Pass. He sunk
down into the ancient robundee meditation, his consciousness escaping its physical
prison and crossing into the Divide. The rollers were there waiting for his
call. He had never seen so many. They told him everything. It was the first
time they had shared their story with anyone outside the Divide.

When they asked
him to take his ship to the site of the Corporation's experiments and wait for
the child to reappear, he seized his chance of redemption. His task was to
recover Charlie, and perform the necessary medical procedures to enable him to
survive the alien conditions. Then when safe in Poklawi, with the roller's
guidance, Yojim would help unlock the secrets buried deep within him. Only then
would he be able to return home.

That was the
plan anyway.

Charlie tapped
his empty shot glass against the table. "That's some story."

 
Awani reached over the table and placed
her hand on his. "It's a lot to take in. Maybe you should call it a
night."

 
"No," he said. "We've got
a lot more to talk about." He looked over at Bei, and added, "Haven't
we?"

Bei nodded, and
poured himself another shot.

Charlie turned
his green eyes, onto Yojim. "I just need a bit of fresh air and a moment
to get my head round what you've just told me. I'll be back."

"I
understand," Yojim said, standing up and placing a giant paw on Charlie's
shoulder.

Charlie grabbed
the bottle of Robundee Lava, and said, "You better tell him what was on
the memory chip." Then he went out on to the balcony. Nobody tried to stop
him.

He slid the
balcony closed behind him, looked up to the sky and screamed.

When he walked back
into the room, the empty bottle swinging at his side, the aliens, grim-faced
and strained, were discussing the Corporation's planned attack against the robundee.
On the table three glasses of amber brew lay untouched.

Charlie took a
seat, and said, with what he hoped was authority in his voice, "I'm going
to stop them before they leave Seenthee space. I won't let them destroy anymore
innocent lives."

The red man
shook his head. "I'm sorry Charlie. But I made a promise to the rollers to
get you home safely."

"I made a
promise too. One I intend to keep, with or without your help. Home can
wait."

All eyes turned
to Brother Yojim. For a long moment he said nothing. The silence grew until it
seemed to roar in Charlie's ears. Without the robundee's help unlocking the
knowledge hidden inside him, he had little chance going up against the
Corporation. He knew that and so did everyone else at the table.

Finally the pathfinder
spoke. "I will help you. But only on the condition you hold back until we
have finished your training."

Charlie smiled.
In a flash he shifted form. He held out a dazzling green hand to the robundee,
and said, "It's a deal."

The pathfinder
placed his hand beneath the cold burning hand and to Charlie's surprise he felt
the rhythmic buzz of electricity.

Brother Yojim
smiled, and withdrawing his hand, said, "I almost forgot. I've got
something of yours." He walked across the apartment, and into his room.

Charlie met the
curious glances of Bei and Awani, and shrugged.

When the robundee
stepped out of his room, he had his arms held in front of him. Balanced across
them, as if in offering, lay Charlie's surfboard, its curved wooden surface
still covered in wax.

The slap rang
out across the meeting room. Doctor Sree winced as if he had been the one
struck by Chief Lade's blow. Executive Ko turned back to face her superior. Her
hands remained fixed to her sides. Blood poured down the side of her face and a
dark patch of grey had already begun to blossom on her cheek.

"Forgive
me, Sir," she said, her face blank. "I will find him again."

"You'd
better," Lade said. "If the news gets out that we kept the discovery
of an alien life form under wraps and then let it escape, we all of us are done
for. The Corporation has no room for traitors or incompetents."

"I've
activated every one of our moles and snitches. They've been told to deal with
me and me alone. The moments he resurfaces, I'll know."

The
Corporation’s Chief Technology Officer stared at Ko, his eyes boring into her.
"You say the alien changed into some glowing creature and slipped through
the floor like a ghost?"

Ko nodded.

Lade turned to
Doctor Sree. "Why didn't you tell us about this ability of the aliens?3"
His words snapped.

The scientist
grimaced and in a whining, pleading voice, said, "I had no idea, Sir. In
the interrogation the boy gave no indication he was aware of any of his powers,
let alone be able to use them. He seemed clueless."

"And
yet," Lade said, furious, "just when we had him right where we wanted
him, he was suddenly able to pull off his disappearing trick."

"He must be
learning somehow," the scientist said.

"Then we
better get him under control before he learns how to get back to where he came
from, and ruins any hope I have of taking the leadership."

"The drones
continue to send me data from the rift site. I am using the findings to build a
device that prevents him from using his powers."

"Well,"
Lade said, "get a move on. I want it ready by the time we find him."
He turned his attention back to Executive Ko. "When you locate him, I want
the doctor to accompany you on the retrieval mission. This time there can be no
mistakes."

Doctor Sree and
Executive Ko nodded.

The Chief
Technology Officer grunted, and strode towards the door. It slid open. Before
he stepped through it, he turned back. "If you can't take him alive, kill
him."

Out of the
corner of his eye, Doctor Sree caught a glimpse of Ko's rigid face. The more
time he spent with her, the more he noticed the almost imperceptible tremors
that flashed across her face. Only the trained eye would have seen the tiniest
of quivering at the corner of the woman's plastic lips. But Sree caught the
movement. She's smiling, he thought.

Charlie woke up
groggy, sticky eyed and alone. He had fallen asleep on top of the bedcovers,
still dressed in his palace robes. They were soggy with sweat.

A pounding throb
worked its way around his head. It felt as if someone had shoved a miniature
hedgehog up his nostril and the beast was now roaming the inside of his skull,
scratching around for sustenance.

I wasn't even
that drunk, he thought and cursed the alien manufacturers of the Robundee Lava.

The last thing
he remembered was kissing Awani goodnight. The mood had lightened after the introduction
of the surfboard. The three of them excitedly regaled Yojim with the tale of
their escape and their meeting with Rayn out in the Pass. The night ended with Charlie
enthralling the three aliens with descriptions of his most epic rides and a
breakdown of the basics of surfing.

In the harem he
had spent his free moments fantasising over Awani. He wanted her and he had
sensed throughout the night that she wanted him too. But when it came to
inviting her into his room at the end of the night he bailed. With Bei and
Yojim watching on, the fear of making a fool of himself won out against his
mounting, alcohol fuelled horniness. He walked into his bedrooms alone.

He sat up, and
caught a whiff of the pungent odour issuing forth from his armpits. Disgusted
with his current state, he looked around the bedroom, hoping to discover an
ensuite bathroom or at least a sink. The room was a minimalist's dream. It had
a bed, an armchair and a bedside table, on which stood a glass, empty.

Charlie
swallowed. His throat was parched. He craved water and a handful of
paracetamols. Or even better, he thought, a couple of those Theran pills.

He climbed out
of bed, took a few well-placed steps across the swaying floor, breathed in and
out, opened the door and walked into the main room.

Immediately, he
regretted his decision to leave his bed. Bei had drawn aside the blinds, and
the brilliant midday sunshine shone through, sending lightning bolts through
Charlie's eyeballs.

He shielded his
eyes and moaned. The urge to vomit was overwhelming but somehow he suppressed
it.

"I see
you're finally up," Bei called from across the room. "Just in time
for lunch."

"No food .
. . Hangover . . .Pain . . . Tablets." Charlie forced the words out of
him. He crossed the rolling floor, keeping his arm raised above his eyes.

 
"Don't worry Charlie," Awani called
from the kitchen. "I've got just the thing."

He turned and
squinted. The girl bounded through the kitchen door, dressed in the same hot
pants and vest as the night before and carrying a glass of murky liquid.

She placed a
hand on his shoulder, and kissed his cheek. "Morning." She smelt like
summer fruits.

Charlie tucked
his biceps inwards in a vain attempt to quell the flow of body odour leaking
out of him. Awani handed him the glass and he reluctantly withdrew an arm.
"We've already had ours," she said.

Charlie held up
the glass and frowned.

Awani smiled.
"It's probably best you drink it in one go."

"What is
it?"

"Do you
really want to know?"

Charlie shook
his head, and brought the rim of the glass to his lips. As he tilted it
upwards, something thick and wormlike twisted in the bottom of the glass. He
closed his eyes, and swallowed. The sticky fluid glided over his tongue and
down his gullet. At one point something rubbery and alive flicked out at the
back of his throat. Charlie ignored it and gulped the liquid down. Anything was
better than this hangover.

The aftertaste
the drink left reminded him simultaneously of a bad case of athlete's foot and
a Bounty bar. A sticky residue sealed his lips together. He forced them apart
with a bubbling pop. When he spoke, the words came out covered in slobber,
"That was truly disgusting."

Awani laughed.

"Catch,"
Bei called, and Charlie raised his hand just in time to prevent a flask from
smashing into his face. "Finish it all."

By the time he
had finished off the sugary liquid inside, Charlie's hangover had melted away.
He had to love this planet.

"Now take a
shower," Bei said, pointing to a door halfway across the room. "I can
smell you from here."

The blue man
burst into raucous laughter. And Charlie, his face burning, shuffled towards
the bathroom.

"Help
yourself to the clothes hanging up in the connecting wardrobe," Bei called
after him. "What's mine is yours."

After lunch, the
four made plans for the next few days. Brother Yojim would work with Charlie,
preparing him for the task ahead. Bei and Awani would set up a meeting with the
resistance, telling them everything. There was so much at risk they needed a
contingency plan in place. If the unthinkable occurred and Charlie failed to
put the rift engine out of action, they would need to act fast. For once the
engine had absorbed the divide energy, there would be no way to stop the
destroyer's journey to Poklawi.

Once they had
agreed on the course of action to follow, Bei and Awani went out. They needed
to track down their resistance contacts to arrange safe voyage to their
underground headquarters.

Left alone in
the apartment, Brother Yojim sat down with Charlie and over hot cups of spiced
juice talked more about the powers held inside him. Charlie, hungry for
knowledge, fired out question after question. Deciphering what the hell Brother
Yojim was talking about was no small feat. Charlie wished the robundee had
brought along a PowerPoint presentation.

 
Brother Yojim began by explaining
Charlie's glowing green form. This was Charlie's divide form adjusted to the
physical environment of the Universe. The pathfinder called it the key form.
For by taking this form Charlie would be able to tear rifts in the fabric and
cross into the Divide.

Yojim explained
that though Charlie had always had the ability to shift to key form, it had
long lay hidden in the recesses of his mind. His crossing over had tugged at
it, easing it forward. But it was his meeting with Rayn out in the Wrake Pass
that had really thrust it to the fore. The dream Charlie had had was the final
wrench bringing the ability back into conscious control.

As Charlie
already knew this key form had its benefits. Nothing physical could harm him
when he took this form. He could survive in any conditions. From the heatless,
airless darkness of space to the burning heart of a supernova, no place was out
of bounds.

 
Once Charlie had formed a rift and
crossed through it, he would take his true divide form. Within the Divide he
would be able to travel vast distances in an instant. No part of the great
whiteness would lie beyond his reach.

And this meant
no part of the Universe would be out of bounds either. For the Divide was at
once inside and outside of the Universe, forever lurking unseen beneath its
surface. Every point in the Universe had a corresponding point in the Divide.
And so the moment Charlie gained full control over his powers, he would be able
to enter the Divide, find a desired exit point, and slip though it, returning
to the Universe wherever he desired.

"Up until
now", Brother Yojim said, "you've had only the most limited control
of your key form. Your ingrained sense of up and down, has helped you stay
fixed in place, preventing you from slipping through the planet's surface. In
the palace you took your fist step when you dropped through the floor to
safety."

Charlie stroked
his chin. "Right now, when I'm in key form and I try to touch something,
my hand passes straight through it. Is that always going to be the way?"

The pathfinder shook
his head. "No. Our first aim of training is for you to learn how to
perform physical acts in his key form. The Corporation are after you. And when
they set their sights on someone they usually get them. You're going to need to
protect yourself. If you know how to fight in his key form, they won't be able
to hurt you,"

Charlie smiled.
"Sounds good."

That evening,
dressed in three quarter-length combat trousers, animal hide slippers, and a
shirt as soft as sunshine, Charlie sat huddled next to Brother Yojim in the
back of a hover buggy. Bei was driving with a callous disregard for safety,
whirling the four of them through the Jajag city streets at breakneck speed.

Although Charlie
wore no seatbelt, he was not worried. He had no need for one, as the robundee's
massive bulk had him locked in place.

Outside the last
light of day basked the ruined city in purples and blues. Charlie stared out at
the fading light, as Bei sped them towards the Jajag beaches.

Before leaving Bei's
apartment block, they had strapped Charlie's surfboard to the top of the buggy.
Its pintail now peeked out over the windshield, the fin suspended over the road
ahead of them like a guillotine blade.

"I hope you're
comfortable back there guys," Awani said leaning over the headrest of the
passenger seat. Across her chest hung chunky rifle, brought along in case they
ran into bad company.

"I'm fine,
thank you," Brother Yojim's boomed.

Charlie, pinned
against the door, said nothing. His whole left slide tingled with pins and
needles. He continued to stare out of the window, imagining the surf conditions
that lay ahead.

The surfing had
been Brother Yojm's plan. When he heard Charlie's surf stories the night
before, he knew it would be a perfect way for him to train. It was familiar to
Charlie, he had said, and incorporated just the right amount of concentration,
fear and interaction with the environment he would need to unlock the mysteries
buried inside him.

On hearing the robundee's
plan, Bei and Awani had decided to stall their departure for the resistance
headquarters so they could catch a glimpse of this "surfing".

Charlie turned
and looked up at Brother Yojim. The man's bare head pressed into the roof of
the buggy but he showed no sign of discomfort.

"How is
this going to work?" Charlie asked. "The surfing, I mean."

"I want you
to . . . what was it you said? Catch a wave?"

Charlie nodded.

"When
you're riding it, I want you to shift to key form. I hypothesize that your
concentration will keep you locked in place and allow you to continue
physically manoeuvring the board."

"And if I
fail?"

"Well, then
you'll slip through the water and have to shift back to your usual self."
The robundee laughed. "But didn't you say falling into the water was half
the fun?"

Charlie said
nothing, thinking only of the giant waves he had seen pounding the coastline on
his journey from Het City.

"Hopefully
by daybreak you'll have learned to interact in your key form. Then we'll come
back tomorrow night and work on opening rifts."

Charlie wished
he shared the big man's confidence. He sat back in his seat and tried to be
positive.

The beach was
located on the other side of an abandoned industrial site. They hovered through
the deserted zone with Charlie half-expecting a swarm of zombies to come
charging out at them. They knocked over a series of rusted fences, and pulled
up on the edge of the beach.

Plastic bottles,
rubber sandals and the bony remains of several animals littered the sand around
them. Pools of fluorescent liquid glowed ominously. Every now and then, cloudy
vapours drifted from the abandoned factories and rolled across the black sand,
merging with the walls of wave spray coming from the ocean. If Chernobyl had a
beach, Charlie reflected, it would probably look this.

He stepped out
of the buggy and into the poisonous night air. The lower half of his face lay
hidden beneath a breathing mask, its rubber sealing cool against his skin. When
he had first placed it against his face, he had been reminded of the cricket
box he had worn as a school kid. It had the same undulating shape, and the air
flowing through it tasted unpleasantly similar to smell his box had given off
after two hours of cricket. But he kept it on, Bei having assured him that he
would be coughing blood for days if he removed it.

Freed from his
vehicular straight jacket, Charlie stretched his arms above his head, and
arched his back. It resulted in a pleasing series of cracks. He shook his legs
to get the blood flowing again.

Awani sidled up
next to him. "Are the waves normally meant to be that big?" The
breathing mask made her a machine's voice, cold and emotionless.

Charlie looked
beyond her. The planet's two moons waxed crescent in the alien sky, basking
their soft light over the waves battering the shore. The Gower never got
anywhere close to this big.
Charlie
had only seen waves like this in surf movies.
 

A narrow piece of land projected from the
beach to Charlie's right, forming the perfect point break. Each wave jacked up
at the headland and broke, creating a perfect barrel that held for a hundred metres.
It was the most perfect wave Charlie had ever seen. Each wave was a replica of
its predecessor, as if made by a machine.

He swallowed, his throat dry with
excitement, fear and the unmistakable surfer's desire to rip a wave up.

"You're seriously considering going
into that?" Bei said, incredulous,

Charlie, full of false bravado, said,
"Worse comes to worse I can always shift form." Though he had no idea
if he would be able to swim in key form. That very afternoon under Yojim's
watchful eyes, he had repeatedly failed to pick up a spoon.

"Come on Charlie," the robundee
said, handing him a slip of fabric.
 
"Time to suit up. We've got a lot to get through
tonight."
 

"Yeah," Awani said, "and we
want to see you catch a few before we have to leave for the resistance."

Charlie held up the suit. The sea like the
air was toxic. He would get more than a nasty rash if he went in bare skinned.
So Bei had brought along the turen equivalent of wetsuit.

Charlie
 
looked around the empty beach, and frowned.
“Where shall I get changed?”

The three raised eyebrows informed him that
he would be changing where he stood. “Okay," he said, "but could you at
least all look away for a second?”

Charlie stripped
naked. As he slipped his feet into the suit's legs, he grimaced. A sticky
residue lined the inside of the suit, ensuring no toxic liquids would pass
through any tears in its fabric. The suit, supple and see-through, came right
down to his mask.

“Okay, I’m done," he said. "You
can turn around now.”

“Looking good,” Awani said, chuckling
through her mask.

Charlie looked down. The suit left nothing
to the imagination. He shot a hand over his crotch.

Brother Yojim
stepped up to him, and rubbed a handful of the sour smelling residue in the gap
between the suit and mask.

The surfer,
sealed up like a sausage, grabbed the surfboard and walked down to the water's
edge, flanked by aliens. For a moment his nervous excitement faded, and he
smiled at the bizarreness of the situation.