Rift Breaker (13 page)

Impressed, Milton turned to Tazman with a raised eyebrow. Tazman stared ahead tiresomely with drool oozing from his mouth. He didn't seem to be interested.

Beyond the ship, an opening in the wall peeled back, unleashing the green of the nebula, crowned with the haven's outer spines. The transport advanced towards the exit. Milton could feel no movement. The outer spikes twisted back and widened the path. The craft cleared the opening and turned away from the haven, down and to the right. Then, with no effort or delay, it meshed smoothly into a quantum jump, or so it seemed.

‘The tube is different,' said Milton.

‘We are travelling on a more efficient dimension than what you are used to,' explained Reelai.

‘Did you hear that, Tazman?'

But the Freegu had dozed off.

The mineral doors cracked and folded open to daylight. Milton hopped down after Tazman and landed on moist ground. He stepped away from the Xoeloid transport into a chilled breeze.

Something squawked in the distance. Reelai had landed in a damp clearing, covered with dried cracking mud. A wall of claw-like trees surrounded the area. The sky was a colourless white. Milton turned to Tazman who was surveying the area with a miserable look on his face.

‘Well, now you can do whatever you want,' Milton said still cheerful. ‘Just don't wander too far.'

‘Pfft, whatever,' said Tazman, taking off towards the dead tree line. Milton looked on with concern. With a flick of his tail, the
Freegu plucked a dead stick from the earth, drew it into his hand, and whacked it against a tree on his way into the scrub.

Tazman seemed to be swinging his mood as frequently as his tail. Milton tried to recall any past instances of this behaviour in Nova Corp but nothing came to mind. Reelai came to his side.

‘I'm worried about him,' Milton said. ‘But I think the fresh air will do him some good.'

‘I am sure,' replied Reelai, surveying the area. ‘Shall we begin?'

Milton nodded, now feeling a new worry sink in. ‘And what about the signal?' he asked nervously.

‘At this moment, your signal wavelength is weak. I will detect if it grows to a dangerous level. In which case you will re-enter the ship; its dampening radiation will provide adequate shielding on the return journey.'

Reelai was meticulous. He seemed to have thought of everything. Of course he did. With the life he had led, the horrors he had seen, he had no room for failure. An overlooked detail could lead to the eradication of his dwindling race. He seemed to take his burdens without complaint. A humble guy like him, Milton thought, would probably be honoured to serve his people. Milton didn't want to let him down.

‘Okay,' said Milton, psyching himself up. ‘I trust you, Reelai,' he added, closing his fists. ‘So tell me how to do this.'

‘Close your eyes and think of a place close to your heart. You must be able to visualise it perfectly to bend it towards you. Your thoughts must be very specific.'

‘I'll think of my home then,' said Milton getting excited and shutting his eyes. He inhaled and pictured his homeworld. In his mind's eye, he stood on a cliff, high above the planes of swirling orange dust. He could see his town below, surrounding the well, a tall structure, buried deep in the ground. Its pistons rose and fell, drawing out hidden moisture. His gaze tracked along the road that led to the spaceport. He had pictured taking the return journey on that road many times to see the people he cared about. Giant holes dotted the landscape to the horizon, left by generations of mining. Their open surfaces glowed orange and purple in the setting sun. The homey, dry heat warmed his skin as well as his heart.

‘Now,' Reelai instructed. ‘Will this place to yourself. Steady your mind.'

Milton used the silence to focus. He saw his town and condensed it to its place on the planet, then the planet to its place in the system, then its system among the stars and constellations. He reached through space and time and took hold of the dusty world. He dragged the planet to his location. The vast void that separated him from his home yielded. Milton opened one eye. Nothing had changed. His mental image dulled and his mind began to wander. He pondered what Reelai might be thinking as he stood close behind, observing Milton's wishful efforts.

The chilly wind cooled his skin, destroying his image of heat. A creature squawked in the distance. No, he thought, putting his wavering mind back to the task at hand. He struggled to grasp
his home, concentrating on how much he wanted to be there. He felt something. Yes, he smiled, this was it. He wanted to feel something and now he was. Then the feeling dropped a notch. Self-consciousness leaked in.

Perhaps the feeling was something of his imagination. He opened his eyes and looked around. Nothing had changed. Except his heartbeat — speeding up in excitement — something it always did when he thought of home.

He turned and saw Reelai staring intently, emotionless.

‘Nothing's happening,' said Milton. ‘Maybe I can't do it.'

‘I am certain you are in capacity,' said Reelai, raising his volume. ‘The data I collected is well indicative of this. Milton, you must be able break a rift gate.'

‘I'll try again.'

Milton turned back, widened his stance and gritted teeth.

‘A perfect visualisation. You are more than capable,' Reelai encouraged, leaning closer.

Milton nodded and began imagining his home again. The image snapped shut … a dead leaf rattled past, destroying his focus.

‘I'm not sure how this …'

‘You are not concentrating!' Reelai circled the Human, staring down with tight fists, his chest level with Milton's head. ‘If you were, you would know exactly what I am talking about. You should be able to feel this location around you. Knowing it is but a mere step away. You are not focused!'

Milton grunted and again willed with all his might for his world to come to him, not entirely sure of how.

‘That is it,' said Reelai, moving to Milton's side. ‘Think how much you desire home, to end all of this misery. Think of the comfort such a familiar place will bring. Think! Think of your loved ones.'

Milton conjured his home. He knew where he wanted to be. He reached out both hands, as a helpless youngling would for its mother. Having no idea whether his faith would be rewarded or not. He wanted to go home. Another empty quanut passed.

‘Can you feel it?'

‘No!' Milton yelled in frustration, turning to Reelai. The Xoeloid bowed his head. ‘I am deeply sorry, Milton Lance. I did not mean to upset you. Perhaps you are not yet ready.'

Milton realised he was holding his breath. He filled his lungs again. ‘I don't know what I'm doing. I don't know if I'm actually feeling anything that you described or if I only think I am.'

‘All feelings are real,' said Reelai. ‘They are as real as the electrochemical waves that trigger synaptic transmissions in your brain. You can control your feelings. It is only a matter of willpower.'

‘Then I failed.'

‘You have yet to succeed.'

Milton chuckled. ‘Okay then. I'll work on it. You know, I really want to help you.'

‘I know you do,' said Reelai. ‘Then we shall continue this another time. I must get back to my laboratory.'

‘I'll go and get Tazman then,' Milton sighed. ‘I should talk to him. He's been acting awfully strange.'

‘Strange?' Reelai asked. He looked like he was going to say something else then paused. This was the first time Milton had seen him hesitate. ‘Does he seem displaced?'

‘Yes … yes he does,' said Milton, snapping back to the present and his friend's plight. ‘You sound like you know something about this?'

‘The dampening radiation we are using to hide your signal is known to have temporary effects on some beings. Although I highly doubt your friend is affected.'

‘What? Why didn't you tell us earlier? What effects?'

‘Affected beings are subject to a mild temporary delusion. I can guarantee no damage will occur. But again, I doubt this is the case for your friend. If you'd like we could run tests to find out for sure.'

‘No, don't worry about it. I can find out myself,' said Milton.

‘Please forgive me, Milton Lance. The range of beings that are usually affected is extremely small. Less than—'

‘Don't worry about it, Reelai,' Milton snapped. ‘I understand other things must be on your mind right now. I think he just needs some fresh air.'

All of a sudden Milton felt ashamed. He'd been dwelling on his own problems and neglected his simian friend. Tazman was
trapped, with nothing to do. He needed to socialise. But where in the galaxy could he go? Where could either of them go? ‘I'll talk to him.'

The Xoeloid bowed. ‘Then I shall wait here.'

Annoyed, Milton turned and strode into the scrub. He could feel Reelai's gaze follow him the entire way.

The leafless branches of the mud trees reached out and hooked their claws together. Their thick roots looked as though they did the same, burrowing into the damp ground and merging into one organism. Milton stepped on the root clusters, to avoid the puddles of mud. He called Tazman's name and listened intently for a response. Insects chattered from unseen hiding places. A flock of the squawking flying things thumped their wings overhead. Milton spotted them through a gap. Their featherless wings were of reptilian skin and their flexing tails had a small bony rudder on the end. They flew overhead in an arrow formation.

In that instant, the washed-out clouds drifted away from the sun. Its rays filtered through the canopy, reflecting off wet ground and brightening the area. Milton called again.

‘I'm over here!' the Freegu shouted, his voice muffled.

Milton changed direction towards the noise.

‘Where?' he yelled.

‘Just keep going. You'll find an opening,' Tazman shouted.

Milton continued. A six-legged fish thing, as big as his boot, plopped onto his path. It oinked, spraying droplets of mud with
its flittering fins. The animal tensed then suddenly leapt away. Its long body flipped through the air and landed on the trunk of a tree where it crawled into a hole.

Milton found a wide breach in the growth and went through the gap, stepping into a breezy open space. He found himself on the bank of a slow flowing, muddy creek lined with slimy rocks.

Tazman was down to the right, standing on a wide, flat rock facing the water. He had a large stick cocked over his shoulder. His tail was curled and steady, a slow wave flexed through its length, then it whipped skyward, flicking a stone in an arc over Tazman's head. When the stone tumbled in front of him Tazman swung the stick. It made perfect contact sending the rock into the water.

‘Whoo hoo,' Tazman howled.

‘Hey, buddy.' Milton clambered over a rocky mass.

Tazman turned to him with a huge smile on his face. ‘Did you see that?'

‘Yeah, that was cool.'

Tazman swung at another rock and missed. ‘Drat!' His tail plucked it from the mud and he tried again, this time sending the stone on a horizontal trajectory into the sludge. Milton stepped along the rocks and took a seat on a boulder, letting the moment linger as he watched Tazman play his game.

‘How've you been?' asked Milton.

‘Me?' Tazman snickered. ‘Fine, why do you ask?' His tail dipped onto the ground again and retrieved another slimy stone.

‘I don't know, just making conversation,' Milton replied.

Tazman tried again, loudly swishing the air. ‘Have you opened a gate thingy yet, so we can go somewhere cool?'

‘No. Not yet.' Milton looked at a line of tiny crustaceans that passed under his boots. The colour of the mud, they had two narrow pincers, one noticeably larger than the other. They worked together, hauling small pieces of carrion, and disappeared one by one down a hole. ‘I'm not even sure what Reelai's on about.'

‘Bah, you'll get it soon.' Tazman swung again and the stone spun off the stick and landed in the mud by his feet. ‘You better because I'm dying of boredom.'

Milton tossed a rock into the water and leaned back on his hands. The sun warmed his skin. He hadn't felt sunlight in ages.

Tazman had been suffering, but radiation had nothing to do with it. He was an active being; he needed stimuli. Give him a rock and a stick and he was happy. Nevertheless, Milton would be keeping a close eye on him from now on.

‘I'm working on it,' said Milton. ‘I'm not even sure it's gunna happen.'

The last crustacean disappeared into the hole, sealing the entrance behind with a clump of mud.

‘And if I can't, then there's no reason for us to be here and we'll just leave,' assured Milton.

‘Ahh, well,' said Tazman. He twisted his torso back and hurled the stick with both hands. It swished through the air like a rotor
blade and hit the water. ‘Who would have thought that bending the fabric of space and time would be so complicated?'