The Sky Drifter (18 page)

Mr. Hist pressed the pad of the device he held, causing the display screen to turn on, tapped the cockpit window twice to tell the pilots we were ready and went to his seat at the back of the vessel as the footage
began.

I noticed Pi looking quizzically at the seat just ahead to my right. A moment later, he leaned in toward me, and whispered, “Hey, have you heard the rumor about No Face’s goons?” Without waiting for my reply, his lazy eyes still squinting at the seat ahead where number 41, the Morex, sat, Pi continued, “Apparently, one of them is female.”

I instantly turned my head toward him, and with a look of disbelief, I exclaimed, “
What
?”

“Shhh,” came Mr. Hist’s voice from somewhere behind me.

“What?” I repeated in the lowest whisper I could manage.

“What’s going on?” whispered Iris, leaning in from my left.

“I was just telling Seven that one of the goons is female,” said Pi matter-of-factly.

“Oh,” replied Iris flatly, resting her back on her seat again.

Pi leaned right across me, his thick brown fur almost smothering my face. “Do you know something?” he asked Iris, who looked ahead at the display screen where two Sphere players competed against each other to the sounds of heavy clangs and grunts.

I turned my head as much as I could toward her, and with Pi’s fur still covering half my face, I whispered to Iris, “Is it true?” For a moment, Pi and I glared expectantly at her, who, still watching the game on the screen, seemed to be enjoying herself.

“
Iris
,” hissed Pi in frustration.

“Yes, it’s true.” replied Iris, calmly.

Pi sat back in his seat, looking mesmerized and exhaled. “Whoa.”

I was just regaining my breath, trying to picture the Morex sitting in front of me wearing lipstick, when Pi quickly leaned over again, smothering my entire face as it vanished in a thick sea of arm hair.

“Which one?” he whispered excitedly.

“Pi, I think you’re killing Seven,” stated Iris.

Pi shifted away from me, and said, “Oh, sorry, bro,” before turning back to Iris. “So?
Which one
?” he repeated.

With a wry smile, Iris replied, “Not telling,” and fixed her gaze on the screen ahead as Pi and I begged her in vain to tell us until, finally, we conceded defeat.

As we watched the display screen in silence, the vessel smoothly took off and set its course toward Malanor.

***

“
Seven
,” hissed Iris from next to me. “Wake up, we’re here.”

“I’m up, I’m up,” I instinctively replied as I looked groggily around me, expecting to be in my quarters. Once I remembered where I was, I turned my head toward the wide windows and saw thick deep orange clouds drifting past as stars still shone beyond. Soon after, a wispy green mist mingled with the clouds as we continued to descend.

Iris stood, and heading toward one of the side windows, turned and said, “I want to see. Coming?” before walking off again.

Instead of getting up I stretched and yawned. Pi’s thick elbow nudged my side a little harder than he probably had intended. “Go, dude,” he said in a low voice, slightly leaning toward me.

Feeling a little embarrassed, I stood without saying a word and walked over to Iris, who now was by the window.

“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” she asked, keeping her gaze on the view outside.

As the vessel drifted through the green mist, a vast terracotta land revealed itself below, spreading as far as the eye could see. Tall solitary columns stood like fingers reaching up toward the stars above. Dusty mountains and hills elevated the flat desert land, along which winding cracks ran and twisted across it where once water must have run. Dark green and red plants and wiry bushes dotted the foot of each mountain, hill and column.

“It’s not bad,” I replied casually. Iris looked at me and tut-tutted, rolling her eyes and smiling before she turned back to the window.

We silently gazed at the scenery below as an enormous black cube, as large as any mountain surrounding it, came into view. With an air of distance, Iris softly began, “Seven, I—” but was interrupted by Mr. Hist’s sudden announcement.

“Everyone back to their seats. We’ll be landing shortly.” Without a word, Iris turned and went to her seat.

“What did you want to say?” I asked, following closely behind her.

“Oh, nothing. Never mind,” replied Iris, her tone now far more casual.

Soon after we sat, a loud whirring resounded outside as the vessel descended. From either side, the dark orange and green landscape gradually turned black, like dark waters steadily rising higher and higher.
We entered the large cube Iris and I had seen moments before.

“Entering Malanor City,” came the tinny voice of one of the pilots over the intercommunication system. Soon, the pitch darkness gave way to bright lights of every color as various loud sounds and music filled the vessel as though they were coming from within.

“I should tell you,” shouted Mr. Hist from in front the cockpit, loud enough to barely be heard. “Malanor is known for its party atmosphere! They are also—for—their—elves!” The lower the vessel got, the harder it was to hear anything the coach said, though this didn’t stop him from trying to say whatever he tried to say before he went back to his seat.

As the vessel continued its descent, we were better able to see the vast cityscape unfolding below us. High-rise buildings dominated the busy scene, standing erect like dark stalagmites, each alive and glowing with moving images and words, rapidly alternating from one to the next, each with its own accompanying catchy music and rhythm.

Beams of light shot up in constant, colorful streams, reaching as high as the top of the cube through which we’d just entered. Soon, we flew amidst the highest of the edifices, and the bright flashing lights of the screens on the side of each completely filled the vessel as music and words blared inside. Different images depicting various advertisements, music videos, and announcements ranged in styles and pace, though all had the same model in all of them, who danced and posed in a variety of clothes. He was thin and athletic, his skin a light powdery blue, and had thick, wavy red hair whose style changed in every screen.

The longer we flew through the city, the more deafening the cacophony seemed to become. As I looked below, I saw wide brightly lit streets filled with people, all of who danced and posed like in the flashing screens on the edifices around us. Eventually, we arrived at a large flat area in the middle of which stood an enormous dome around five times the size of our own stadium. Images similar to those I’d seen on the building screens towered above. On the back left and right corners of the wide area were two raised circular landing platforms, and the vessel landed on one of them.

As the ramp lowered and then the door opened, Mr. Hist ushered us out, ensuring we all took our equipment with us.
Standing on the dimly lit platform, I looked up at the gigantic stadium ahead, which looked so much bigger now than it had moments ago. Dominating the space high above were the holographic images of the Malac team—named after their race—dressed in its official team uniform, which consisted of a tight deep purple body suit with only one long sleeve,   thick dark red knee-high boots. The team logo, which was printed on the shoulder of each uniform, was of a yellow star, inside which a crimson ball blazed, and had a thick line protruding from the bottom like a flower stem or tail of a shooting star. The team stood together in different, alternating action poses as they smiled with shining white teeth.

The curious thing I was beginning to realize was that they, like the model used on the screens of every building, were exact replicas of each other. Below them the words, “Our dazzling beauty shall prevail,” shone in bright yellow and purple letters. It had become customary for each known planet to use the universal interpreting system to bypass tricky language barriers, which had in the past caused a few misunderstandings and feuds between species.

“Welcome!” spoke a flamboyant voice ahead.

I looked back down and saw a tall, slim figure coming up the platform steps with his arms spread out wide at his sides. Blinking to re-adjust my eyes to the dimmer light, the details of the figure gradually became crisper. The Malac wore his thick, wavy, dark red hair brushed away from his face, which accentuated the thin-rimmed glasses he wore above his nose. He had on a slim-fitting, dark purple suit jacket and slim crimson trousers. As he walked onto the landing platform, his black pointed-tip shoes gleamed as if they sparkled.

“Welcome, friends, welcome,” he said enthusiastically with a huge grin. “I trust your trip through our desert wasn’t too dismaying. It is rather awful, you know. As you have been able to see, I’m sure, Malanor City is a lively, friendly city that is always thrilled to welcome guests such as yourselves. I am sure never before have you experienced the awe-inspiring, radiant sight of such a dazzling city.”

Despite the smooth way in which he spoke, there was a definite complacency about everything he said and every move he made. “Now,” he continued, “which one of you is Mr. Hist?”

“That would be me,” replied the coach gruffly, stepping forward to greet the Malac.

“Mr. Hist, welcome to Malanor City,” repeated the Malac, vigorously shaking the coach’s hand with both of his. “You seem to have a fine team—a
fine
team.” Leaning slightly toward Mr. Hist, and animatedly placing the back of his hand next to his mouth, he said, “Though I do not imagine they will make our team break even the slightest sweat.”

Taking a defensive step backward, the obviously outraged Mr. Hist protested angrily, “
What did you say
? You little—”

“Now, now, dearest Mr. Hist,” interrupted the Malac, playfully raising his hands toward his face. “It is all in the spirit of healthy competition. No need to be upset.”

“Yeah, well, you start minding your words then,” replied the coach, seemingly torn as to how he should react.

In one swift motion, the grinning Malac threw his arm over Mr. Hist’s shoulders as if they were the best of friends, and said, “Why of course—o
f course—
it is all in the spirit of fun, sir.”

“Who are you, anyway?” grumbled the coach, appearing not to know where to look.

Taking a playful leap backward, the Malac announced, “Oh, but of course! Where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Gamal Metafrick. I am the Sphere representative, and have been given the most joyous honor of escorting you to our spectacular stadium and locker rooms, and answering any questions you may have. As such, and without further ado, I would ask you to follow me, if you would be so kind.”

With a sigh of relief that the introduction was over, Mr. Hist turned to face us, and said, “Come on, guys, make sure you have everything you need, and closely follow me. Let’s go.”

Gamal Metafrick turned swiftly on the spot and began walking down the steps of the platform as Mr. Hist walked behind him and then we all followed them.

“So, what do you think?” I asked Iris and Pi, who walked beside me as I took in our surroundings.

“Eh, I don’t know,” replied Pi nonchalantly. “Loud, isn’t it?”

“I
know
,” agreed Iris emphatically. “It’s like they’re all deaf or something! And did you notice they all look
exactly
the same?”

“Loads of species like that.” Pi shrugged.

“I
know
that, but there are always
some
differences, like in height or weight, but the Malacs are exact replicas of each other!”

“I guess that
is
a little unusual,” I agreed, wondering more about how they’d be as opponents instead of what they looked like.

“Still,” continued Iris, “it does look like it’d be a fun city to visit.”

“I wonder what kind of food they have,” said Pi, squinting seriously into the distance.

“You and your stomach,” I said, and Iris and I smiled at each other.

Soon we were all mere steps from the stadium, which up close seemed to fill the hazy darkness above us. Standing just outside the brightly lit foyer, Gamal Metafrick clicked his fingers, and the enormous see-though doors ahead slid smoothly and instantly open to the left, out of sight. He turned his head slightly toward us, and still grinning, said, “This way, please,” and walked inside.

The yellow floor sparkled, crimson and purple sparks shooting in every direction under its surface with every step we took. The purple walls were filled with stands upon which trophies of all shapes and sizes proudly stood as miniature holographic Malacs gazed praisingly around each one. Other life-size holograms of the Malac team, dressed in their uniforms, danced and posed proudly around the room, silently booing us as we walked past.

Without a word, Gamal Metafrick opened and then walked through a smaller door the same color as the walls, followed closely by Mr. Hist and the rest of the team. As Iris, Pi and I walked through it, we were met by a long, narrow hallway. As in the foyer, every step we took on the shiny surface caused multi-colored sparks to shoot in every direction under our feet. There, the walls changed color from yellow to purple to crimson, as moving images of the team posed within it.

A moment later, Gamal Metafrick stopped beside a door and turned on his heels to face us, cupping one hand in the other, smiling from ear to ear.

“Through this door,” he began jovially, “you will find the locker room where you will be able to change into your uniforms. You will find it spacious and accommodating. Automatic service operators are stationed along the left wall should you have any need of assistance.”

“Is the Malac team already in there?” asked Mr. Hist, pointing at the door with his thumb.