Sentinel

I >

Gates knew he was being followed. A fugitive possessed certain senses beyond the mundane. Especially when some of those senses were electronically enhanced.

            It was midday on Adge, and the twin suns were busy burning off a thick lacquering of dew, turning the lush alien world into an open-air sauna.

            With sweat varnishing his oily skin, Gates emerged into one of the many heaving markets that lined the town’s twisting thoroughfares and stopped, momentarily, to catch his breath.

            The market was an ant nest of activity. Vibrant colours and pungent odours. A good place to mingle, to dissolve, to hide ... but maybe not for a man twice the height of the local inhabitants.

            Gates pulled up his hood and ploughed on.

            The man had been tailing him all day. A shadow moving among shadows. Discreetly distanced. Following Gates through the maze of cluttered streets and colourful bazaars at the heart of the hotchpotch colony. Never too close and yet never too far – always showing just enough presence to keep Gates alert and on his toes.

Gates assumed his pursuer was a bounty hunter; he recognized the techniques. The shadow could successfully anticipate Gate’s own actions. Predict his every move – almost. Movements too slick to be those of a cop. Twice Gates had thought he’d managed to outwit his relentless pursuer. And twice his evasion had been cleverly out-manoeuvred.

This shadow was good.

With one sweaty palm permanently wrapped around the blaster in his pocket, Gates was as ready as he could be for the inevitable challenge.

A long list of fallen hunters lay behind him. A trail spanning half the Arm. One more would make little difference. A test of his skills and an inconvenience to his time, that’s all it was.

Side-stepping a foul-smelling Nuurn, Gates slipped between two stalls and picked up his pace, wondering how the authorities had finally gotten their act together sufficiently enough to trace him all the way to lacklustre Adge. After all, he’d assumed at least a dozen new identities since his last encounter with a halfwit law enforcer. Clearly someone had been doing their homework. Either that or some newly-promoted DNA scanner had squealed on his arrival at the spaceport.

The congested bazaar meandered its way along the street as far as the eye could see, laced with rising snakes of steam and flashing neon advertisements. A thick ledge of grey cloud was moving in from the west, like a floating, dirty glacier encroaching upon the town. That meant rain. And rain coupled with the heat of the two suns meant more humidity.

Gates glowered. I should have stayed on icy Reetal, he lamented. At least there the natives smelled better.

Feeling sticky, he hunkered into his raincoat and kept his face down-turned.

Adge was a mess. It was a typical overcrowded frontier town on a newly-established rim colony on the ass-end of nowhere. As with many outposts, Adge enjoyed all the trappings of a place far removed from the watchful eye and clenched fist of Mother Earth. The blossoming colony was an interwoven jumble of gaudy styles and clashing cultures - all jostling for dominance on the small plateau of bare rock that stuck itself up like a thumb above the malodorous, green-misted swamps cloaking the tiny planet. It was a mishmash of alien and human. A chaotic confluence of traders, settlers and fortune hunters. Lawless and ripe, and safe for runners like Gates. In a disorganized colony whose numbers swelled by a thousand new faces every day, it was an ideal place in which to blend unnoticed and unquestioned from the overstretched autonomic authority. To fugitives like Gates, Adge was safe haven. Where it lacked in finesse it made up in confusion.

Or so he had believed.

            A glance behind him told Gates his tail was still wagging.

            This is becoming tiresome.

            As he dipped beneath the orange-and-blue striped canopy of a milk-husk stand, he tongued a stud behind one of his right molars and emerged the other side looking forty years older. No one seemed to notice the subtle shimmering that had briefly surrounded Gates’ head, ageing him by decades in a split second. No one had noticed his nondescript raincoat thicken out to become a long patchwork smock. Blink and it was missed. The holoprojection was perfect. Gone were Gates’ sharp azure eyes, his short crop of vermillion hair and his heavy sideburns – in their place lay liver-spotted jowls, crooked yellowed teeth and a balding pate nestled within a swirl of lank grey hair.

            He even stooped a little just to complete the illusion.

            Let’s see how observant our friend is now, he mused.

            A few minutes later the sinuous bazaar merged into a teeming market square packed with hundreds of dazzling stalls. In the centre, a ragtag band of musicians - elevated above the crowds on a floating platform - were tooting their pipes at a group of flamboyantly-dressed juggling acrobats leaping from one market stall canopy to the next.

Gates paused at a multi-tiered stand brimming with iridescent candies and picked up a sour suck-pop. As he paid the ruddy-cheeked proprietor, he saw his tail pass by on the other side of the stall, apparently unaware of Gates’ transformation.

That’s right, he thought, keep walking, keep looking. Where on Adge have I skulked off to?

It was Gates’ first good look at his shadow.

The man looked like a thespian.

He was a lean, narrow-faced human with dark sunken eyes, trim goatee beard and a mane of jet black hair. His clothing was unexceptionally fashionable, permitting him to mingle effortlessly into the town’s amalgam of vivid, and sometimes tasteless, styles. More importantly, Gates’ electronically extended senses informed him the shadow was armed to the hilt.

Sniggering, Gates lingered long enough to make certain his tail was swallowed up by the crowd before escaping down a side alley.

Third time lucky, he chuckled as he left the hustle behind.

II >

In no time at all Gates was on his own, navigating the narrow alleys that crisscrossed the town. Feeling more secure, he eased off on his pace and his caution. His shadow, it seemed, was lost. Now he could concentrate on procuring a means to leave this hectic planet forthwith – before he was tracked down yet again.

            No point outstaying my welcome, he told himself. Perhaps I might return to Reetal. Partake in a little snow-surfing for a while.

Grinning lopsidedly, he turned a corner – only to stop dead in his tracks.

The uncompromising muzzle of a percussion blaster was pointing at the hairy gap between Gates’ eyes, literally centimetres from his fake nose.

Gates knew that Adge had it’s fair share of bandits; he’d already dispatched one or two of the more determined individuals – so he kept his fist clenched around his own blaster as he cackled, “Don’t shoot! This frail old timer means you no harm!” As ever, his performance was first class. He even allowed a globule of thick saliva to dangle from the corner of his pretend lips. “See, I have nothing for you! Nothing except maybe an infection!”

“Ardian Gates.” The bandit spoke in a cool monotone that cut Gates clean to the core. “How nice of you to walk by.”

Gates’ false rheumy eyes narrowed as they focused along the blaster’s thick silver shaft to a fist, an arm, a face, a crooked smile within a trim goatee beard. And adrenaline flashed in his chest as he recognized the shadow. “Let me pass, you scoundrel!” He demanded, still brandishing his charade. “Or I will summon the authorities and have you forcibly removed!”

The man’s smile widened to a knowing grin, “I am the authorities, you nitwit. Judge, jury and executioner if need be.” He stuck out a manicured hand, “Now, if you would be so kind as to relinquish your weapon?”

Gates considered his options for a moment. He had two choices: fight or surrender. A fight might end up messy; he’d already had too many of his limbs re-grown to think it would be any other way. Surrender could buy him precious leverage and time. It might prove the smarter option. Given the stubborn glint in the shadow’s eyes he decided it more prudent to hedge his bets and allow this tail to believe him captured. He could always take control later; once the man’s guard was dropped.

The man moved the gun’s cool nozzle a centimetre through Gates’ projected guise until it pressed against his real brow. “This unleashes a neural pulse capable of frying your synapses, Mr. Gates.” He said. “Regrettably, it will not kill you, but it will render you with the IQ of a carrot.”

“Never one of my favourite vegetables” Gates contemplated. Reluctantly, he removed the blaster from his pocket and handed it over, at the same time tonguing a stud behind his left canine tooth that opened up a carbon-silk net in his mid oesophagus.

“And the disguise,” said the man.

Gates killed the holoprojection field to reveal his tall, bald dome of a head, his long ashen face, his tiny cup-shaped ears and his thin slit of a mouth. He blinked large, black, bulbous eyes.

The shadow’s smile widened to show immaculate teeth. “Ah, at last, the real Ardian Gates. Fugitive Simbient wanted on five planets for the illegal acquisition of more than a dozen priceless possessions. Your holofile does not do you justice. You are much trimmer in real life.”

“Running keeps a Simbient fit.”

“I prefer yoga myself.” The shadow kept the blaster tight against Gates’ pallid forehead while he took a small blue capsule from his pocket and held it up. “You know the procedure, Mr. Gates. Please, swallow this.”

Behind the nozzle, Gates’ long brow crinkled.

“It is an immobilizer,” the man explained. “Should you try to flee, this will temporarily deactivate your cerebral cortex.”

“How nice.”

“It is very effective.”

            “I am sure.” Gates took the bright blue pill and popped it in his mouth, making a dramatic swallowing sound. He opened his mouth wide, for inspection.

            The shadow seemed satisfied. “There. Now we can both be more civilized.” He lowered the blaster to hip level and took a step back.

            Gates spread his hands. “May I ask ..?”

            “My name?”

            “I was thinking more along the lines of how?”

            “We are all creatures of habit, Mr. Gates. You were betrayed by your own behavioural idiosyncrasies. That and the tracer molecules sprayed on the last artefact you stole.”

            “That’s sneaky.”

            “But highly amusing.” The man produced a glowing purple orb from his pocket – about the size of an eyeball – and held it up in front of Gates’ frowning face. “Your win was your defeat.”

            Gates’ heart sank; the shadow had obviously already raided his digs. Which meant all his identity chips were now quite useless. “Alas, purple was never my colour.”

            “Nor luck, it would seem.” The man urged him forward with a wave of the blaster. “This way, please. We have a rendezvous to keep.”

III >

The shadow’s name was Gu and he’d been hunting Gates for over a month. Working for a master he was unwilling as yet to reveal, Gu had chased Gates across half the Fringe before finally homing in on stinking Adge. To his own admission, Gu was a specialist in tracking prey. Bragging whole-heartedly, Gu spoke of his legendary skills, of his methods that were the envy of every police agency, including those on Mother Earth. He selfishly bored Gates with an account of his wonderful ancestral techniques while they worked their way to the roof of a nearby prefab.

            “Apparently it is genetic,” he said as they came out upon the flat, open rooftop. “Thousands of years ago, my people could track a single deer over half a continent.”

            “My, they must have been starving.” Gates folded his thin arms across his flat chest and assumed a cross-legged position on the lip of the guttering. From up here he could survey the mist-laden swamps that surrounded the town far below, beneath a sky now choked with churning cloud.

            Gu ignored the sarcasm, whispering instead into the tip of his collar. As he did so, a bright dot materialized in the western leaden sky. Gates watched it expand against the grey cloud mass, rapidly adopting the familiar glassy disc-shape of a shuttlecraft. Within moments it had silently swooped down to the rooftop.

As it settled, Gates seized his moment.

            Gu was momentarily distracted by the invisible push of the negrav engines long enough to provide Gates with the opportunity to lash out a foot. He caught the bounty hunter cleanly in the back of the knee, sending him down hard. In the same fluid movement, Gates leapt into the air, snatched the blaster from the falling Gu, and rolled to his own feet. With a wry smile of his own, he aimed the muzzle at the man’s astonished expression and promptly regurgitated the blue pill he’d been forced to swallow. He spat it over the edge of the roof and lavishly wiped his thin lips.

            “The orb, if you will.” Gates said.

            “There was little need for physical violence.” Gu complained, rubbing a hip.

            Gates waved the gun impatiently, “The orb.”

            Sneering, Gu brought out the glowing purple ball and held it aloft.

            Gates sensed the muscles in Gu’s arm tense, “Do not be tempted to toss it from this rooftop.” He commanded. “I assure you my shooting is as sharp as your tales are dreary.”

            Submissively, Gu dropped the orb into Gates’ outstretched hand.

            “Thank you so kindly.” Gates smiled and squeezed the trigger.

            The effect was visible and immediate.

            In fact, better than Gates had expected.

Gu’s shocked expression turned to slag as his eyes rolled all the way back into their sockets. Groaning, he collapsed fully to the rooftop, where he twitched for a few seconds before rolling drunkenly onto his side. A tendril of mucus oozed from his lolling tongue.

Gates nodded at the quality of the weapon before slipping it in his arm pouch. Then he rifled through Gu’s pockets to retrieve his own weapon. The identity chip he also found he dropped into his hidden pocket.

            “Nice meeting you, Mr. Gu.” He chirped. “Maybe next time we can enjoy some iced tea together, perhaps?”

            Gates turned to the waiting shuttle – and to his mode of escape. To his satisfaction, an oval panel in the side of the craft courteously dissolved to allow his entry.

            Like taking crik juice from a sibling, he thought as he entered the dark craft and promptly blacked out.

IV >

Everything was zooming in and out. A kaleidoscope of colours crazily overlapping. Enough to make it feel like there was a nest of zilt worms mating in the pit of his stomach.

Blearily, Gates clawed himself into a seated position and prayed that the pounding in his head would go away. Something smelled bad; and he realized with some horror that he’d soiled his pants. Every inch of his skin was tingling, itching. He coughed up a knot of gooey blood and winced as the pain in his head exploded.

            “Iced tea,” said a familiar monotone, “cures many ailments.”

            Gates cracked open a watery eye and found himself focusing on a tumbler of greenish liquid held before his face. With a shaky hand, he gratefully accepted the drink and let the cool liquid soothe his scorched throat.

            “There is a change of clothes in the closet,” said the voice, “and a sonic shower in the corner. You will find me on the flight deck when you’re ready.”

            A blurred silhouette moved across Gates’ wobbly vision, scooping the empty beaker from his hand.

            Exhausted, Gates slid back to the floor and let the numbing darkness engulf him once more.

V >

He slept like a baby for eight hours solid, then showered and dressed. Refreshed and thankfully headache-free, Gates took a few moments to assess his new prison whilst gnawing on a fresh salad sandwich his jailor had generously left, together with a new beaker of the delicious herbal tea.

Judging by the layout of the room and the subsonic vibrations his enhanced senses could detect, he was aboard a jumpship presently negotiating the shadowy realms of supraspace. Bound for an unknown destination, no doubt. Any one of a handful of planets where his past indiscretions were frowned upon, and lengthy custodial punishments awaited.

Gu had done his job well. Exemplary, in fact. Yet precisely how he had managed to shake off the effects of the cerebral nullifier remained a mystery to Gates. One thing was certain: Gu’s rewards would be ample.

But every man has his price, Gates reminded himself as he ran a slender finger over the polished metal hull.

He spent some time examining the room and the single, cylindrical  corridor connecting it to the flight deck before accepting there was no visible means to escape the craft. All other areas of the ship, including any escape pods, appeared annoyingly inaccessible to him. Faced with little else to do but accept his present circumstances, Gates finished his breakfast before taking his captor up on his offer by joining him on the flight deck – a transparent dome clinging like a wart to the nose of the jumpship.

            As Gates stepped into the small, twilit bubble, Gu glanced up from a holoprojected star map and smiled. “Good morning, Ardian. I trust you slept well?”

            “You serve marvellous tea.” Gates perched himself on the rim of a horseshoe control console. “I feel quite invigorated.”

            “I am pleased to hear it. The pain resulting from the neural extinguisher is severe but thankfully temporary.”

“I am curious to know how?”

A wry grin passed across the man’s face. “Molecular agents coating the muzzle of the blaster. They impregnated your skin, remaining dormant until required.”

“Clever.”

“Indeed. It is one of my favourites.”

“And you?”

“Clones are often clumsy, but sometimes priceless. I often employ them in situations I’d rather personally avoid for wont of a healthy existence.”

Gates raised a wispy eyebrow. “Your methods are unorthodox and yet productive. To go to such lengths for a simple antiques thief is quite extraordinary.”

Gu spread his hands. “I have my reasons.”

            “Speaking of which, I trust you will be handsomely rewarded for your endeavours?”

            Gu flicked off the display and rocked back in his chair. He studied Gates’ implying expression for a moment while he scratched his goatee. “What makes you say that?”

            “The prize moneys for my capture must be astronomical. The orb’s worth alone – which I notice you have taken back – is estimated beyond the gross national product of some small planets.”

            “Perhaps. But financial incentives are of little interest to me.”

            Gates’ curiosity piqued. “In this day and age, I find it hard to believe that any bounty hunter should offer his services free of charge.”

            Gu smiled, “I agree. Yet since I am not a bounty hunter, I have no fee to recover.” He stared at Gates with brooding eyes, without offering any further explanation.

            “I am curious,” said Gates, “what, then, is your gain?”

            “Continued friendship.”

            “Friendship?” Gates almost choked on the word.

            “Bizarre as it may sound, yes.”

            “You have captured me for a friend? That is bizarre! May I enquire to what end?”

            Gu’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe I shouldn’t say.”

            “I promise to behave.”

            “You do?”

            “I swear on your life.”

            “That’s my worry!” Gu pulled at his goatee and eyed Gates like a lion trainer might watch a mewling cub. “Alright. But you won’t believe me. Not yet.”

            “I might.”

            “I doubt it.”

            “Try me.”

            Gu drew a long, deep breath before answering, “With or without your extensive wardrobe of holoprojected disguises, Ardian Gates, you are not who you think you are.”

            “I am not?”

            “Indeed, you are not.”

            “Funny, I was me when I showered this morning.”

            Gu steepled his fingers. “Your memory strata was wiped some time ago. Under your own instructions. Apparently, you were bored with guarding the Gate between Universes and decided to lead a somewhat more colourful existence for a while. You ditched your duties in favour of sampling a life you had only ever been able to observe from afar. As your eternal friend, you confided clear instructions with me to re-awaken you at a precise time. To return you to your duties. Once your vacation – so to speak – was at an end. I am merely implementing your own wishes. Playing the role you set out for me some twenty years ago. Of course, you have no recollection of this, or of your life prior to becoming an antiquities thief.”

            Gates chortled, “My dear Mr. Gu, have you cloned yourself one time too many, perhaps?”

            Gu’s expression was deadly serious. “In fact, Ardian, you aren’t even a Simbient. Neither are you a living, breathing being. Come to think of it, you are utterly alien beyond belief.”

Gates’ lopsided smile now covered half his sallow face. “Really. You should save your bedtime stories for those naïve enough to be thrilled by them.”

“It is the truth, Ardian! What’s more, your function is not that of a petty artefacts burglar, as you believe so now. You are, in fact, a child of the cosmos. One of the elder founders of the Universe. You are, for wont of a better expression, a god.”

 VI >

Gates studied the human for long, uncomfortable moments before offering a response, “If I am a god, what’s to stop me from snapping your neck and taking control of this ship?”

            Gu tapped his temple. “The nano-machines I injected into your cerebral cortex while you slept. Again, under your pre-set instructions. If they are not deactivated by the proper code within the next eight hours they will eat away your brain strata. I believe after about thirty seconds a man will plead for a quick death. Some have even been known to gouge out their own eyes and forcibly … well, you get the picture.”

            “Even in this advanced and seemingly civilised age we are but animals.”

            “Alas. This is true.”

            Gates let out a long sigh. “And, of course, only you know this code.”

            Gu shook his head. “It remains secure at our destination. Unfortunately I am not privy to it. So trying to force it from me will prove quite futile.”

“And I take it this ship’s course is pre-programmed also.”

“Naturally. By you again, yes.”

Gates loosened up his shoulders and pressed his palms against the console. “Then you are expendable.” He said with a wide, twisted grin.

Gu made a dismissive gesture.

And Gates launched himself off the console, planting his foot directly into the gap between Gu’s shocked eyes. He felt the nose crumple nicely as Gu was ejected off his chair. With a trail of blood following him, Gu sailed through the air and slammed up against the transparent wall, where he slid to the deck, clutching his bloodied face.

Without slowing, Gates reached down, wrapped a long arm around Gu’s neck and twisted. “No instrumentation is foolproof.” Gates smirked as he let the inert body slide to the floor. “There will be a way to alter this craft’s course. And a way to deactivate your precious nano-whatevers.”

“But, alas, you will not discover it.”

Gates whirled around to find yet another incarnation of his damned captor standing in the doorway behind him, sporting a familiar blaster.

“This clone business is fast becoming tedious.” He growled.

“The same can be said for your inept attempts to break free.” Said Gu as he depressed the trigger.

VII >

Reality ebbed. Waves of grey against an interminable blackness. A tormented sea of shadows. Forks of neon lightning cracking the far distance, splitting heaven from hell.

            Gates felt cold.

            He spent some time drifting in and out of consciousness, his dreams feverish and demonic, before reality resolved with a thud.

            Drunkenly, he clambered to his bare feet and scanned his new surroundings with a degree of disbelief.

He was standing in the middle of a broad glassy disc apparently floating in free space. All around him were stars – with a great swathe of feathery blue-and-yellow flecked with red arcing by overhead. The mighty Arm in all its glory.

What’s more, he was entirely naked and covered in goose bumps.

The breath caught in his throat.

At first glance there didn’t appear to be any visible canopy protecting Gates from the harsh vacuum. He was surrounded by raw infinity. A glittering panorama of breathtaking beauty reaching outward forever. The notion that he might simultaneously asphyxiate and decompress at any moment made his flesh creep. Fortunately, his enhanced senses were screaming at him to relax; there was some kind of invisible force field forming a dome high above his head. He was safe – of sorts – for now.

Gates shivered involuntarily.

There was something stuck to his hand. A glowing orb the size of an eyeball – purple, throbbing softly. He pulled at it, but it seemed to be welded to his skin; part of his actual hand.

What warped game is this? He wondered as he spun on one heel, letting the mad canvas of stars whirl about him. What insanity have I become a part of? Am I still dreaming? Is this the first inklings of Gu’s dreaded nano-machines disassembling my conscious mind?

Gates dizzied himself as he drank in the unending vista, marvelling at the majesty of creation. If this was to be his end, he decided, then he could not think of a better view to fill his gaze! The whole of the galaxy lay here at his fingertips, awesome in its breadth and silence.

It was utterly peaceful.

After a few moments, Gates noticed something shimmering against the starry backdrop off to one side, and he stopped to take a closer look. He steadied his jigging gaze and squinted, trying to make the shape out.

It was a thin slither of coagulating ether. A ripple of reality remoulding itself into a new form.

Gates’ jaw slackened as he saw a tall figure sculpt itself out of thin air and begin to stride effortlessly towards him.

It was a naked humanoid. Much like himself. Depilated from head to toe, and wearing a stupid grin on its long, pale face.

“Ardian Gates!” The figure hollered with a lanky wave. “It’s me, Gu! Welcome back to the brink of eternity!”

Gates’ jaw remained embarrassingly loose as the newly-fashioned entity bounced up to him and proceeded to peer into his own incredulous eyes.

“I’ve missed me.” The visitor confessed, his shiny, coal-black eyes glistening with light from a million suns.

Gates gawped.

It was like looking into a mirror. Into his own face. At an exact double of himself. Smiling lopsidedly with his own practiced smile!

They’ve cloned me! Gates realized with horror. That sneaky Gu has gone and cloned me!

The duplicate sensed Gates’ unease and quickly placed a comforting palm on his shoulder, “Welcome back to the Iris, Ardian.” He said in Gates’ own reedy voice. “It’s so good to have me home.”

VIII >

Time had no meaning on the periphery of infinity. Nor the depth of space – as this was a three-dimensional concept inapplicable to his enhanced senses. The distant edges of the Universe were as near as the closest star. And the closest star was somewhere within him. Eternally entwined.

            As Guardian of the Gate, he balanced the perpetual energy flux between Universes. The degree to which expansion or contraction was permitted. And the constant inducement of the multi-dimensional tides that pulsed within the shadowy supraspace realm beyond the Iris.  

            From this extra-stellar focal point he could observe the evolution of galaxies. Watch their endless, pedestrian procession across the void. See billions of stars die as galaxies collided. And smile as a billion more were reborn in their wake.

            This was his calling. This was his life.

            Beneath his feet, through the translucent disc, a vast, brilliant whirlpool of colourful, bubbling matter spun lazily around the invisible pinprick of a black hole. The Iris. It was a turbulent funnel of fibrous fire, stretching across half of space, turning, rolling, broiling. A frenetic entrance to a matrix connecting a thousand Universes. The Gateway to everything. And it was in his charge.

In his outstretched hand, the purple orb pulsated.

The discharge from this Universe to the next was imminent.

On cue, Gu – his identical twin, standing atop his own disc on the other side of the Iris – was about to instigate the massive flux discharge.

Ardian braced his feet against the cool glassy surface. He liked this bit. This was where Universes were created!

Suddenly the spiralling cone of matter gathered pace, accelerating to a lumpy blur streaked with primary colours.

Here she blows.

He watched, wide-eyed, as the great, writhing vortex collapsed slowly inwards, swallowing the huge concentric rings of fire like water swirling down a plughole. Draining from one Universe to another.

Ardian Gates smiled.

The Guardian of the Gate was back in business.