Iy Correction: Chapter 9 Extracts

Iy Correction
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‘Whatever’s the matter?’ Jo’s voice descended to a whisper as she caught sight of Charlie’s worried expression.

Suddenly exposed to the bright light of the hallway, the young man squinted. ‘Turn out the light,’ he urged. ‘Get inside. Hurry!’

Joanna reluctantly obeyed. ‘Come on, Charlie, who’s after you, the bogey man?’ Without receiving a reply, she was bustled into the living room where Atalan lay asleep. Charlie immediately moved to the window and cautiously peered through a chink in the curtains. Jo impatiently seated herself in the wooden rocking chair and waited.

Charlie nodded. ‘It was shortly after I left BPR. I began to feel uneasy, as if someone was watching me. I’d just driven onto the main road when I noticed headlights in the rear-view mirror. For a time I thought nothing of it, but after taking a few sharp turns without losing the lights, I began to wonder…’

The expression on Jo’s face softened and she chuckled nervously. ‘Don’t be silly,’ she chided. ‘It probably wasn’t even the same car.’

Charlie drew his attention away from the window and stared at her. ‘It was,’ he said flatly. ‘You remember the short cut from BPR to my house? I drove round the entire route then back again the other way before coming here.’

‘And he was still behind you?’ The sound of Atalan’s voice muffled by the pillows caused his companions to start.

‘You’re supposed to be asleep,’ Jo said, pulling the blankets away from his head.

‘I was,’ Atalan replied with a yawn, ‘but the sound of you two jabbering is enough to wake the dead.’

Atalan could see his friend was agitated and would be difficult to placate. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound flippant, but your conversation reminded me of a Punch and Judy show.’

Charlie clearly intended to deliver a sharp rebuke. Instead, the tension abruptly drained from his face and he smiled. ‘Perhaps I should begin again,’ he suggested, running a hand through his mass of hair. ‘Hi, Dave… Jo. How’re you feeling?’

Charlie carefully opened his briefcase so Atalan could see inside. ‘As ordered, eight ampoules of metabolism-adjusting agent. What with these, and successfully returning Hawksworth’s car to his house – a fine job of work if I do say so myself.’

‘You don’t have to say anything,’ Charlie interrupted. ‘If a member of the human race can’t help the odd benevolent alien in distress, it’s a poor affair.’

While the men talked, Jo moved over to the window and peeped through the parting that Charlie had made. ‘I don’t want to sound paranoid,’ she said, ‘but there’s definitely someone out there, and I think he’s watching the house.’

Charlie and Atalan each regarded the street in turn. They could just make out the figure of a tall man loitering by the telephone box diagonally across the road. Charlie neatly seated himself in the rocking chair and rocked quickly back and forth.

‘I’ve no idea. But I suggest we don’t jump to conclusions,’ Atalan said decisively. ‘There could be a perfectly logical explanation.’

Atalan groaned. ‘I must leave soon,’ he announced with a sense of urgency, ‘and before I do I’ve a few things to say that both of you should hear. When I’ve finished, we’ll see if our friend’s still there. Agreed?’

Jo and Charlie nodded their agreement then sat beside each other on the couch. Atalan leaned against the windowsill regarding his wife and friend with the look of a man about to confess to come heinous crime. He had been dreading this moment ever since realising that the solution to Charlie’s predicament lay on Iy. Only by revealing the truth concerning Charlie’s peril and the significance of the anti-viral work would his conscience permit him to continue to accept their help. He cleared his throat.

‘Whatever the consequences,’ he began, ‘I now think it’s essential you know the reason for my presence on Earth. Under normal circumstances the result of telling you would be disastrous, but since we’ve already deviated from destiny’s path, it’s a chance I’m prepared to take. Besides, this might be the last opportunity I’ll have to correct the damage that’s already been done.’

Charlie’s expression changed from profound interest to confusion. ‘Sorry, Dave,’ he interrupted. ‘I don’t know about Jo, but you’ve lost me.’

Atalan smiled. His protracted approach to the hard facts, which he had hoped would cushion the impact of the revelation, had failed. Without further prevarication, he launched into a description of Earth’s special place in maintaining universal order and why, because of this, the Guardians had always monitored the planet’s progress. He outlined the serious threat posed if Earth deviated from its projected course, and finally reached the solution that had been proposed to correct the fault. Seating himself in the rocking chair, he took a deep breath.

‘Forillion Jenor was able to demonstrate that the advancement of a single scientific discovery would resolve the problem. This would then initiate a series of events which, within a few years, would restore Earth to its original path.’

‘My God!’ Charlie exclaimed, rising to his feet. ‘So that’s it, the anti-viral agent! How stupid of me not to realise sooner.’

Before either man could continue, Jo raised a hand. ‘Excuse me! In case you’ve forgotten, I’m still here and none the wiser. Perhaps someone would condescend to put me in the picture.’

Charlie turned abruptly to stifle Atalan’s response. ‘If you don’t mind, Dave, I’d like to have a shot. At least if I can do that, I’ll be able to salvage some of my self-esteem.’

‘It’s simple, really,’ Charlie began, ‘this Jenor chap sets things up so that Dave can be incorporated into Earth’s history as unobtrusively as possible. He brings him here as a baby, where he grows up normally and with no knowledge of his real identity. Somehow, at a predetermined time, Dave remembers who he is and what he has to do. The plan’s set up so that he’ll become a chemist and eventually join BPR. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if the founding and development of BPR weren’t all part of the plot. Anyway, his task is to ensure that a native of Earth prematurely discovers a new antiviral drug. The really tricky bit, though, is that the lucky punter has to make the breakthrough with the minimum of help to avoid cracking open another can of worms. Although I can’t decide whether I’m flattered or insulted, I’m the chosen one.’ With these words, Charlie rejoined Jo on the couch.

By this time Charlie was verging on hyperactivity, and as Atalan prepared to add a further comment, he erupted. ‘No wonder you were upset when my notebook was lost in the fire. Then Hawksworth proposes suspending the anti-viral work. Your reaction at the time seemed a bit OTT. I thought you might be cracking up, especially after our conversation at BPR the other night. It’s strange, but since then I’ve had a strong compulsion to resume the work just as you asked – almost as if I was a victim of autosuggestion… You didn’t?’

Atalan cringed inwardly as he realised the time for his final revelation had come. ‘There’s one other thing, Charlie,’ he began hesitantly. ‘I wish I didn’t have to tell you, but there’s no longer any choice.’ As Atalan prepared to continue, he noticed that Jo had sunk back on the couch and was staring vacantly in the direction of the window.

She shifted her attention to him. ‘I should’ve thought by now you’d have accepted that to me you’re still David Franklin. Whatever’s happened to you hasn’t altered you that much. I still know what’s in your mind.’

Charlie’s embarrassed voice penetrated the tense atmosphere. ‘I think I should go.’

An ironic smile transiently crossed Jo’s lips. ‘Yes, Charlie, you will go.’

Gesturing for Charlie to sit, Atalan focused his attention on Jo. ‘I’m sorry but it’s the only way. What I said before is true. It can only be for a few days at most.’

‘I really think I should leave you two for a while,’ Charlie said. ‘I’ll make some coffee.’

‘No, Charlie!’ Atalan said sternly. ‘You must hear what I have to say… As you know, Dorak was aware that you were to be the discoverer of the anti-viral agent. If for any reason you failed to produce the compound within the allotted time–’

‘The only chance Dorak had to make his plan work was to use you as bait,’ Atalan continued. ‘There’s no easy way to say this, but after announcing your promotion he placed your life in danger.’

‘I’m sorry, but he gave you a fatal, delayed-action drug,’ Atalan confessed.

Charlie’s expression paled. ‘How? What the hell is it? How long have I got?’

Atalan’s answer came uneasily. ‘Hawksworth dropped a cardiac-arresting agent in your drink. If it’s not neutralised soon, you’ll die.’

Scarcely had the abstract display formed when it faded into blackness, and the sudden change from light to dark wrenched Atalan’s flailing senses back into focus. He could see nothing, yet he realised he was once more standing on solid ground. With arms outstretched, he took a step forward. His foot pressed against a concave surface, shifting his centre of gravity, and becoming disorientated, he fell backwards. He rolled onto his side, probing the floor with his hands. It was completely smooth. A feeling of panic spread through him as he continued to explore his new surroundings – he was imprisoned in a metallic sphere. After repeating the examination, he regained his feet, and in an effort to collect his thoughts, forced himself to breathe deeply. Eventually he succeeded in steadying himself.

‘Where am I?’ he cried. ‘Penamin, Charlie! Can you hear me?’ The echo of his call reverberated around the enclosed shell, deafening him. As the eerie silence reformed, he felt the floor quiver. He leant forward against the wall for support, only to find that his prison was beginning to rotate. Once more seized by fear, he attempted to walk with the movement, but his efforts soon failed. The instant he adjusted to the speed and direction of travel, the axis of rotation shifted, throwing him off-balance. Unable to stand, he was tossed helplessly over and over until, without warning, the revolving stopped, and clutching his sickened stomach, he slid into a sitting position, panting heavily. A faint ringing caused him to hold his breath, then, to his amazement, the interior of the enclosure began to glow with a violet light. He gasped as his eyes became accustomed to the ghostly illumination.

As he had surmised, he was captive in a small, spherical chamber, its walls unbroken with no evidence of an exit, but as he looked about bewildered, a narrow slit appeared in the metallic shell, and by degrees an opening formed.

Atalan jumped to the ground without hesitation, fearing that the breach might abruptly reseal, then, as he adjusted to his new surroundings, he sank to his knees, overawed by the spectacle that greeted him. He had emerged into a colossal, wedge-shaped building, and through its transparent ceiling he could see the last traces of starlight as dawn began to break. Like the sphere from which he had escaped, the walls and floor of the construction were made of a dull, metallic substance, and they were covered in a fine layer of dust. In all directions, the floor was littered with dozens of spheres identical to his, none of which seemed to have been disturbed for centuries.

An oppressive silence filled the air. Glancing over his shoulder, Atalan noticed that the breach in his sphere had closed, but it was still shimmering with violet light. Because of its apparent translucence, he wondered if the unit was perhaps a kind of prison cell constructed for one-way observation. His curiosity about the nature and purpose of his location quickly evaporated, however, as an image of Jo crashing into Dorak sprang unbidden into his mind. He fumbled in his trouser pockets to find a handkerchief with which to wipe his brow, but, to his annoyance, they were empty – except, that is, for an old wallet which he had thought lost. Listlessly, he undid its leather clasp and looked inside only to discover a single sheet of paper. As he straightened it out, his eyes moistened with emotion. He at once recognised the poem Jo had given him on their wedding day. She had always enjoyed writing poetry, and the results were often entertaining if not strictly literary. This was the first he had received, and it was the one he treasured most. For years he had carried it with him until some months ago when, to his distress, he had mislaid it. As he stared at the page, the words bored into him.