The Euclidian: When Worlds Collide (uncut) Read online

“She has a growth in her head that is taking over her brain. She’s in a coma now and the doctors expect her to die soon. I usually go to see her every day, but it’s tough to see her waste away like she is. I figured that after I got you some juice we could go by and see her. As a matter of fact, they sell juice at the hospital cafeteria.”

  CHAPTER 15

  MORGAN GOT GAME

  Morgan walked into the hospital with Pico in his inside jacket pocket. Today Morgan was lucky. His mother’s neurologist, Dr. Turner, was in the room with his mother. Morgan stood Pico up in a chair with his hand in the bottle of juice. Pico stood there expressionless, like a statue.

  “Hello, Dr. Turner.”

  “Morgan,” she replied, “you know you can call me Denise.”

  “Sorry. I just don’t want to say anything that might give me bad karma.”

  “This isn’t about karma, Morgan. Your mother has advanced cancer and it appears to be genetics, not karma. Is that a doll? Why do you have its hand in your drink? And it has a handful of nails?” Denise laughed.

  “He’s not a doll, he’s an action figure. The orange juice gives him super powers and the nails are his weapons.”

  “Sure, Morgan. Whatever you say. I guess he’s drinking with his hand because it doesn’t have a mouth, is that right? It doesn’t have much of a superhero physique. As a matter of fact, it doesn’t seem to have much for features at all. How do you even know it’s a male ‘action figure’?”

  “Because he told me. We communicate telepathically.”

  “Okay, Morgan. Let me know if you need someone to talk to. I’m concerned that you may be getting a little lost in your fantasy world.”

  Pico was puzzled by the conversation. Morgan was telling this person about him after he had said they should keep his existence a secret. Yet the doctor was ignoring him, thinking that he was crazy. He wondered if humans always talked to each other in such a confusing manner.

  “Denise, I promise I’m okay. I want to know if my mother is going to be okay. Is there any way that her cancer might go away? I know you can’t operate or use radiation, but is it possible that it might go away somehow?”

  “In general, cancer cells are regular human cells that have mutated and then don’t die like normal cells naturally do when replaced by new cells.”

  “So if it were possible to somehow kill off the cancer cells, she might be healed?”

  “Yes, but that’s a big if. It’s possible that your mother has suffered some brain damage due to the displacement of normal cells by the cancerous ones.”

  “Thanks, Denise. I’ll just sit and talk to her for a while.”

  “Okay, Morgan. I hope to see you tomorrow.” Dr. Turner left them alone in the hospital room.

  “Hi, mom, it’s Morgan. I brought my friend Pico to see if he can talk to you. Just try to say hello to him. I miss you, momma. Please don’t die.”

  “She said hello,” remarked Pico.

  “You can communicate with her?”

  “Not really. It’s like she’s in a dream state and your voice is part of her dreams. I’m just a voice in the midst of all the activity in her head.”

  “Can you see or feel her cancer cells?”

  “I’ll get my shaman stone and see what I can find.” Pico pulled the stone from a cavity in his body, and held it in his hand until he could feel its vibration. He focused and sent out energy to it until it glowed blue. He then pulled the magnified energy back from the stone and directed it at Morgan’s mother. Morgan looked on in amazement as Pico worked his magic. Pico could feel the growth in her head and focused on killing the cancer cells. This was a laborious task, as he had to destroy the millions of cells one at a time while being careful not to damage any of the normal cells. After an hour, Pico started to turn green and fell forward onto the bed.

  “Pico! Are you okay?”

  “I’m out of nails. I’ve been killing the cancer cells and it has drained my energy faster than normal.”

  Morgan grabbed Pico and the juice, ran out of the room, and tracked down Dr. Turner. “Do you know where I can find some nails here in the hospital?”

  “There should be some in the maintenance office in the basement. Here, give this to Cleo. He should be able to help you.”

  “I need a prescription for nails?”

  “You don’t think they are just going to hand out nails to anyone who walks in the door, do you? Why is your doll green now? Is it like a mood ring?”

  “He’s not a doll. He’s an action figure superhero that turns green when his powers get weak.”

  “Sorry. What’s his super power, anyway?”

  “He can move things with his mind.”

  “That’s a good one. Maybe you could bring him by my house so he can help me move my couch to a better place in the living room,” she said with a smile, and watched Morgan race down the hall.

  He found the maintenance office and asked its occupant, “Are you Cleo?”

  “Yeah, that’s me.”

  Morgan handed him the note. “Dr. Turner said I could get some nails from you.”

  “That’s her handwriting, all right. So tell me, how big do the nails need to be and how many do you want?”

  “Ten large ones will be fine.”

  Cleo handed him some large nails. “How are these?”

  “Thanks, those will do just fine.” Morgan turned and placed the nails in his pocket next to Pico. He stepped into the hall and splashed a little juice on Pico’s head.

  “Are you feeling better now?”

  “Yes, thanks for getting me the nails.”

  Morgan walked out of the hospital and into the afternoon sun, happy to have Pico back to normal. “Pico, I don’t want you to hurt yourself trying to help me. I don’t want to lose you too.”

  “I’m fine. That level of intense concentration takes a lot out of me, but I’m okay. I’m just not used to spending so much time using the shaman stone.”

  “You know, you are the only friend I have.”

  “Same here,” said Pico, placing his hand on Morgan’s chest. Morgan could feel the warmth of Pico’s emotions as they flowed into his body through his shirt.

  That afternoon Morgan decided to challenge the limits of his new ability by trying to learn Mandarin in one night. He went to the library and checked out every Mandarin language DVD on the shelves, took them home, and after finishing his chores watched them all on Don’s laptop. Not only did Morgan learn to speak Mandarin, but he also learned how to write the more than 10,000 characters. He spent the remainder of the night practicing, filling several pads of paper with his attempts to perfect each character.

  The next morning, Morgan once again cooked breakfast for his foster parents, and drew large Mandarin characters on their white napkins. When Cheryl opened the bedroom door he bowed and greeted her, saying, “zǎo shàng hǎo māma.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean, smart aleck?” she replied.

  “It means ‘good morning, mother.’”

  “And these symbols on my nice napkins?”

  “’Great mother and great father.’”

  She looked at Morgan in utter bewilderment. “I can only guess that you have once again completed all your chores and then some.”

  Morgan smiled and nodded.

  “Just go away and play,” she said. “Do whatever it is you do when you leave. But stay out of trouble, and if I find out you’ve been doing speed or meth or some other crazy drug, I’m going to knock you out.”

  “No way. I would never do drugs.”

  “Whatever.” She slammed the door in his smiling face.

  Morgan went to the basement, grabbed his backpack and tennis stuff, placed Pico in his jacket pocket, and headed out the door.

  “Pico, let’s go to the tennis club and see if Biffle shows up. I want to see if my tennis game has improved at all or if I’m just deluding myself.”

  When they got to the sports center they found Biffle warming up on the court. He spied Morga
n and gave him a wicked smile. “Hey, Morgan. I thought you left town after that last beating I gave you. Did you learn how to dance?”

  He was referring to an insult he had thrown at Morgan the last time they played, after clobbering Morgan 6-0: “Get me another monkey. This one can’t dance.”

  “Sign me in and I’ll show you who the monkey is.”

  “Whatever you say, rookie. Come on around and I’ll sign you in.”

  Morgan met Biffle at the front desk.

  “Pico,” he thought at his friend, “is that thing you did to me still working?”

  “Yes, your brain is still in its modified state.”

  “I just wanted to be sure.”

  Morgan checked in and the two adversaries walked onto the court.

  “You want to warm up, moron?”

  “It’s ‘Morgan’, and I’ve been warming up every day since you beat me. Now it’s time to play.”

  “As I recall, you didn’t score a point the last time we played, and now you’re going to beat me? What a joke. Especially with that old racquet. Let’s get this over with before my friends show up.”

  This time would be different. Morgan could feel it. The noise and indecision were gone from his head. He was focused and feeling no fear.

  “Would you like to serve?” said Biffle, offering him a ball.

  “No, I want to watch you eat a few first.”

  “I must say, you have plenty of heart. I’m going to feel a little sad kicking your butt again, but I’ll get over it,” said Biffle with a chuckle.

  Biffle’s father came out from the clubhouse. “Biffle, what did I tell you about bringing strays in off the street to our private club? You have to learn to stay within your class.”

  “I’m just using him to warm up, dad. One set and I’ll throw him out.”

  “Look at how he’s dressed, and that rickety racquet. I don’t know how you could even classify him as a warm-up partner. And he brought a doll with him!”

  “It’s an action figure,” mumbled Morgan under his breath.

  “Let’s get this over with so I can send you back to the projects.”

  “I live in a house,” Morgan muttered.

  Though he had lived in the projects when they first met, that didn’t matter now. Morgan focused acutely on the first serve. He viewed Biffle as if he were in slow motion. There were no distracting noises in his head and no uncertainty about where to stand. He saw Biffle plant his feet and position his body. He watched the ball go into the air, and Biffle’s racquet move toward the ball. This time there was no guessing. He knew where the ball was going to go and moved to meet it. Biffle would not get an ace on him this time. He connected with the ball and sent it to the far corner before Biffle could react. Biffle was dumbfounded. His father decided he should stay and watch a while.

  “How you like me now?” shouted Morgan. “Fifteen love. Can you feel the love?”

  “Lucky shot,” said Biffle, preparing for the next serve.

  Maybe it was luck, but Morgan’s success continued serve after serve, game after game, until it was 6-0 and the set was over. Biffle had not won one point.

  “You warmed up yet, Biffle? Did you enjoy those dance lessons? Who’s the monkey now?”

  Biffle was speechless and ashamed. His friends had shown up and his father was still there to watch his defeat. Morgan felt good about himself for the first time in a long time. He put on his jacket and grabbed Pico who had stood motionless the whole time, watching everything as he soaked his hand in a cup of juice and clutched his bundle of nails.

  “Hey, kid,” said Biffle’s father, “looks like you are just what Biffle needs. If you’ll practice with him at least twice a week, I’ll add you to our membership so you can play anytime you want. Plus, I’ll get you a real racquet and a set of clothes. What do you say?”

  “Dad, I was just having an off day. Don’t make me play with him.”

  “Losing 6-0 is not an off day. Until you can beat him consistently, I want you to play him at least twice a week. Let me know if that is too much of a burden. I can always get rid of your car and revoke access to the boat so you’ll have fewer distractions to worry about.”

  “That won’t be necessary, dad. I’d be happy to practice with Morgan.”

  “I thought so. Morgan, is that your name? I’m Robert Frost.” He extended his hand to Morgan.

  “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Frost,” said Morgan, shaking his hand. “Looks like we got a deal.”

  “Come into the clubhouse and let’s get you signed up.”

  They walked inside to the membership office. “Howard, could you add Morgan to my membership?”

  “Certainly, sir.”

  “And when you two are done, could you take him out to the shop? Let him pick out whatever he wants and put it on my bill.”

  “I would be happy to take care of that for you, Mr. Frost.”

  “Morgan, you should be good to go from here. I apologize for my earlier remarks. You taught me a valuable lesson today.”

  “About books and covers?”

  “Yes, books and covers. And why don’t you get something to eat while you’re here? I’m sure you’re hungry after that workout. Great game, by the way. You’re an impressive player.”

  Morgan beamed. “Thanks, Mr. Frost.”

  Morgan got his membership card, some clothes, a nice racquet, and a fabulous lunch with some orange juice for Pico who stood in the chair next to him with his hand in the glass. Afterward, they went to the hospital and Pico gave his mother another treatment, taking care not to become exhausted. By the time they got home, Morgan was actually looking forward to his chores.

  Don, Ron, and Lon were on their way out somewhere. They gave Morgan high-fives as they passed. “You da man, MorGON,” rhymed Don.

  Morgan smiled. He didn’t mind the butchering of his name. As a matter of fact, he quite enjoyed it. He was sure Don’s change in attitude had to do with the magazine Pico had helped Morgan abscond with that morning. He had paid for it by leaving a large tip for the comic book he bought.

  Morgan put away his new stuff, grabbed his Zune, and headed out to mow the lawn, with Pico at his side. What a great day it had turned out to be.

  CHAPTER 16

  VALIDATING LOGISTICS

  Two weeks after Pico escaped, Captain Shisal docked the Andrea at headquarters. Its cargo was unloaded and its stores replenished for the next mission.

  Shisal gave the crew a week of shore leave, and once the final storage unit had been cleared he headed to Peejay Province to visit his family. He had a strong bond with his father who was still quite youthful. They hiked, played sports, and did some hunting. He enjoyed the visits but knew that one day they would end, and this just wasn’t the place where he wanted to retire. He wanted his own large parcel of land where he could do his own thing with a special woman. Conquering her would be the hardest mission of his career.

  Captain Shisal returned to the ship a day before everyone else was due to arrive. He was ready to get back into space and finish his last mission. He looked into his cabin to ensure the upgrade to his bed and shower in his cabin had been completed then toured the ship on an air scooter to check things out.

  Eight hours later he returned to his cabin to go over the payment records for the goods he had brought back from Cerebran. It appeared that the docking tax had risen another one percent and that the price for some minerals had dropped considerably, but the increase in prices for combustible gases and oxygen more than made up for any losses. All in all he was happy with his revenue for this haul, and he was sure the crew would be satisfied as well. He had the virtual butler bring him his dinner and after eating jumped into his upgraded bed for the only long sleep he would get until his next return.

  Captain Shisal woke up from a long restful sleep and still had a couple of hours before everyone was due to check in. He grabbed a quick shower, ate some food, and headed for the bridge, where he checked the captain’s chair and all its systems.
By the time he finished all of the bridge officers had joined him. Although it wasn’t a military or government ship, everyone wore a uniform that indicated their rank. On the bridge were the XO, who ran things when the captain was away, and communications, navigation, weapons, defense, and logistics officers. These officers were not necessarily in charge of their areas, but they ensured that the captain’s orders for their area were carried out.

  The weapons officer ensured that the right weapons were used at the right moment. The defense officer operated the shields, chaff, jammers, and other defensive weapons. The navigator executed defensive and offensive maneuvers based on signals from the other two. During battle, the three stood next to each other to increase their effectiveness. They would jabber away, pushing buttons, pulling levers, twisting knobs, and yelling commands at crewmembers possibly kilometers away on the ship. The whole time, the communications officer would be listening for a possible surrender message, or messages from friendly ships engaged in the same battle.

  The bridge officers validated their systems and reported their status to the captain. Captain Shisal then called the department heads into his ready room, adjacent to the bridge, to go over last minute details about their mission.

  “We cast off within the hour. Make sure your departments are ready.”

  “What about the stowaway that we lost last time out?” asked the security officer.

  “We’ve been monitoring the situation and it appears that it has had no impact on our preparations there. Unless anyone else has concerns, let’s do this. We have another solar system to conquer. Navigator, shove off and get us to our next destination.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  The ship moved away from the space station high above the Euclidian planet and disappeared through an opening in space. To the crew it looked like a fuzzy area in the middle of a bright blanket of stars, and then everything became fuzzy.

  The captain retired to his quarters, leaving the XO in charge of the bridge. He wanted to review the logistics, go over the special requests from buyers, and check the state of the holds where minerals would be stored during shipment. There would be no life forms transported this time, so he didn’t have to worry about that security headache. It seemed that no matter how well they designed their security, there was always an escape. They were always encountering a new species with some strange talent that caught them off guard, such as that little creature that could eat through metal and somehow conceal himself on people without being noticed. He would hate to underestimate a creature and have it be the downfall of a mission.