The Full Circle Six (23 page)

“I
haven't invaded anything,” Drake shot back. “Those creepy little aliens back there captured my racecraft, and killed most of my crew. All on the assumption that I was a general in your army.” Drake knew well enough not to challenge this strange, unsettling man with anger, but it was clear by his tone that he was not happy with the colonel's approach.

“I saw the victims. So? You met General Husak, huh? Fine man, wish I had a thousand more like him.” Porter's eye never wavered or blinked. His disturbing gaze was still fixed on the spot where Jaws was camouflaged. His tone sounded slightly amused.

“I saw him … nice sword.” Drake was using a great measure of patience in tolerating the man who forcefully pirated his craft. “Why are you covered in those things?” The weights attached to Porter's uniform reminded Drake of the pellets he had seen on the planet Foughden.

Finally turning to look Drake up and down, Porter answered while gesturing toward Drake's feet. “We all have ways to help keep us on the ground.”

“Fair enough,” the commander replied, remembering that his boots were heavily weighted. “What exactly do you want from me?”

“You still haven't told me what you are doing in this dimension. I want answers.” Porter's tone was more business like now and he inched closer to Drake.

“I was pushed into this dimension, through the Clymenian black hole.” A low, deep, barely audible growl crept into Drake's voice, and his lip twitched, as if to sneer.

“And who is I, if you don't mind? I gave you the courtesy of a name and title, if you can be so keen to recall,” Porter snapped antagonistically.

“I am Drake Judge, commander and navigator of the number thirteen Future Fuels racecraft,” Drake snarled in return. “Also, I do not consider courtesies to strangers who board my craft, uninvited, and unannounced … Are you even listening to me?”

Porter's eyebrows had moved up and his head was cocked to the left. He had been muttering to himself in inaudible, whispering tones from the point the commander said his name. It took him several seconds after Drake shouted to speak. “What do you know about the lost dimension, Drake?”

Drake was taken aback. The last thing he had imagined would turn up in conversation right now was an old legend that he had heard about from his dead food and beverage regulator. Juhaen had referred to it as the last dimension, but Drake was sure that Porter was speaking of essentially the same thing. His surprise was enough to ebb the anger for a few moments, as he became lost in thought about the day his fallen teammate had related to him the story. When the shock wore off, curiosity arose, and Drake asked, “Are you talking about the red key? It's gone … stolen.”

Again Porter raised his brow and shifted his head, but this time his whisper was audible,
“the back door.”
He shifted back to Drake like nothing had happened. “Don't worry about that key you couldn't have used it. That door is protected and the temple is no place to fool around. Flying monsters that are immune to crystal guards it. There are other ways. What dimension are you and you're quaint ship from?”

“What are you babbling on about? Crystals and temples … are you mad?” Drake ignored the colonel's question.

“Do you want to go
home,
Drake? Do you feel out of place? Tell me where you are from and I may be able to arrange a passage. Did you know? I am a colonel in a dimensional army. Not just this dimension, which by the way is only four. We are connected, you and I.” Porter looked as crazy as ever like he had succeeded on a lunatic experiment.

“The only dimension I've ever known is the third,” Drake said softly. “Is the legend true, then? One hundred and one dimensions?”

“Everyone wants the answer to that. There are one hundred to be sure. I myself believe the lost dimension is number one hundred one. Alas, I have never seen it for myself, but I've … I'm looking into it.” Porter replied unwearyingly

“How is it that you propose to get me back home?” Drake was personally doubtful of this, but remained hopeful. At least he would be able to give the members who died the treatment they deserved, instead of leaving them to float through foreign space.

“A key of course. It is rumored in some dimensions that keys can only be used on surfaces, a common misconception. You can of course use most anywhere in space, getting back is the part that can't be done. I will give you a key and the coordinates to use it, then you will be home. You're ship will be lost,” responded the squinty eyed Porter.

“And my remaining crew?” Drake was struck with the realization that everything he had known in his adult life was at an end. He would have to sacrifice the last piece of the life that he treasured, in order to return to the only place that he could live. He was hoping that he could at least save Jaws and Uciferi, but if it came to the worst, Drake was willing to do anything for survival.

“Any living thing can hold on to you while you use most keys, and anything you can carry goes through, too. Would you like me to go get the key?” Porter always had the same expressions, making it tough to tell how genuine he was being.

“I do need to get back.” Drake was thinking that it would be worth it just to be away from the maniac in front of him.

“Wait here for me, I have to go to get it from my transmission headquarters.” Porter turned mechanically and marched out of the navigation center with booming thuds.

Jaws reappeared jovially. “Did you hear him? He said we are going home, sir.”

“I don't trust him.” Ouldsid said flatly. “I thought I heard him mumble something about killing me, after you introduced yourself.”

“We can't concern ourselves with the hypothetical,” Drake said hurriedly. “If he wanted us dead, we would have been by now. We have to take any chance we can get, at this point. He's holding the cards, and trust issues aside, he's the only hope for us getting back to the world we know.”

The thuds resounded signaling the colonel's return. Jaws did not camouflage this time. Porter walked in and presented Drake with a wooden box that had a sliding top, and the coordinates to use the contents inside. He instructed Drake not to open the box until he arrived at the proper place, something that made Drake suspicious. Drake was in no mood for argument so he accepted the items and nodded in agreement, until Porter was satisfied and left.

Drake ordered the last of his crew back to position and sat down in his navigation chair. He still held the box, and looked down to contemplate it. Strange how the colonel had been so insistently adamant about not opening it until he was precisely in the correct position. There was something out of the ordinary with the box as well. To the eye, it looked like a normal, everyday container, but in Drake's hands, it seemed to almost emit vibrations of power. To Drake, it was almost as if he could feel sound through the box.

With a shake of his head, he jammed the “gift” into his pocket and took control of his racecraft for the last time. Too much stress on the mind caused Drake to have difficulty in concentrating on any one thing. He felt detached from himself, apathetic to existence itself. He could not believe that his whole impressive, eventful life had built up to the moment he had always dreamed of, just to be obliterated around him, with himself helpless to do anything but watch in despair.

Drake followed the course to the coordinates for no more than three hours when Jaws warned him he was on a path for an energy field of some kind. Drake ignored the C.E. and grabbed the box out of his pocket. When he opened it, flowing, soft, beautiful music exploded in a torrent of notes and rhythm that filled Drake's ears. It felt like the music was not just made in tune to the commander, but as if it were an extension of his very being. It was the sound of his soul.

Drake kept going toward the energy field, his destination to use the glowing golden key from the box, despite desperate screams from Jaws and Ouldsid to turn around.

Ouldsid made to turn the engines off and Drake leapt out at him with a big boot to the face. The M.S.C. flew across the navigation center and landed against the wall knocked out. Drake jumped back to his chair and resumed his new mission. Jaws ran out of the navigation center intent on putting a suit on so that he might survive if the ship was destroyed.

The racecraft was crumbling when Drake cut the engines and coasted toward the exact spot in which he would turn the glowing, golden key. Jaws bounded back into the center just seconds before Drake stood and walked to the front of the craft, where he intended to use the key. Jaws, as quickly as his space suit would allow, rushed to touch Drake as he was turning the key. A brightly glowing door, the same color of the key, appeared, with a large, black one hundred one etched on the top portion. Before the communications expert with the extremely long nose could put a hand on his commander, an unseen force pushed him back.

Drake Judge opened the door with a flood of excitement. He knew only two things. He had lost the Full Circle Six, and had found the lost dimension.

“H
e used the key, let's move in.” Porter ordered one of his many lieutenants.

The “floating planet” that Drake and his crew had seen was Porter's roaming training facility. This monstrous craft pulled within a few hundred meters of the tiny racecraft, and began pulling it inside with the magnetic beam.

“Two of you come with me,” the colonel commanded at random.

The colonel and two of his lieutenants boarded the race-craft and, when they arrived at the command post, they found a strange being in a space suit, along with an unconscious, but still alive, man.

Porter bent over the unconscious man to observe him then scanned him with some hand held device. After reading the screen on the device, the colonel stomped on Uciferi's head, with more than enough force to kill him. He then snapped his head, and his squinting gaze, back to Jaws, who was disappearing and reappearing uncontrollably inside his suit.

“Very interesting,” Porter uttered audibly, eyebrows raised. “I could use someone like you … have to do something about that nose, though. We will train you, of course, and feed you, provide you with appropriate clothing, and even some recreation necessities. You will become more than you ever dreamed you could be, if you come with me.” Porter moved towards Jaws swiftly and removed his helmet with one hand, while snatching his nose with the other. “You have two choices … Recruit yourself into the Enntrah dimensional army … or die.”

“I want to join.” Jaws became excited about his prospects when Porter first mentioned his potential, and he was already dreaming wistfully about his new life when his thoughts were erased abruptly in an upsurge of pain.

As soon as the words were out of Jaws' mouth, Porter reached to his belt for his knife, and cut off the little man's nose about an inch away from the face. The colonel then pulled out a small pocketbook, ignoring the yells of agony from Jaws, flipped through it, stopped for a moment, then nodded and placed it back in his pocket. The amputated nose lay on the floor, already beginning to shrivel.

“Your name is now Jackson,” Porter exclaimed loudly, so that he could hear over the screaming. “You will only answer to Jackson, and you are to forget everything you have ever known. Your new identity and your new life, start now.”