"Drac!" Sara said rushing to the side of the Breeze's pool and then diving in.
She pulled the coughing historian to the surface and then gently pushed him toward the nearest ladder.
"Good work, Hon," Sam said with a chuckle as Sara climbed out of the pool after Drac.
"Java with three sugars, please," Drac asked of Sam as he adjusted his dripping lime green waistcoat while smiling at The Machine on the bar.
"Draconous," Sam said, "these are the fellow travelers, Lars and Miri."
"Good to meet another Family member," Lars said kindly while slipping off his bar stool to greet Drac.
"Choice," Miri said heartily shaking Drac's hand.
"Never amazes me to find travelers speaking twenty-sixth century confederation basic even with the most curious of preserved idioms,"
Drac said looking at Miri. "It's virtually unchanged from the twentieth century English you know," he added.
"Miri has studied extensively across fractime," Lars explained as Miri shyly looked into his remaining coffee. "He has obtained several PhDs in New Zealand as well as elsewhere during the twentieth century and beyond."
"I guess I just like learning," Miri said to his coffee.
"Most admirable," Drac said.
"You've been briefed?" Sam asked Drac.
"Of course," he replied. "The queen has taken a keen interest in our new friends. And these are a couple of kind faces," he added studying Lars and then Miri's face.
"Ces is expecting you," Sara said. "But be stern, we have much to discuss and you should find another of your suits in the guest bedroom. I know you like orange this time of year," she added with a smile.
"Then please excuse me while I put on something more suitable,"
Drac told them quickly with a big smile as he left.
Sam eyed the overhead sun. "Time for a beer?" he asked with a sigh knowing it may be a while before Drac could extract himself from Ces.
Sam was glad the Breeze was empty. The local Kingfish tournament had just finished. And they were closing the Breeze starting Monday for refurbishment of the remaining three cottages for O'Shanley's regulars following the way of life revolving around a Family bar. It was not unheard of to pick up dedicated followers during a long mission. In fact, they were often critical assets and idea generators and the Family spared what resources it could to help them.
"Negra Modelo?" Lars asked.
"A Modelo sounds great," Miri added while studying Barney, now strutting side-to-side as he vigorously head bobbed atop the barbeque.
"Cuatro cervezas coming up," Sara replied as Sam gave her a quick nod. "But first, I'll just check that our historian doesn't get held up too long by Ces," she added as she bypassed the bar's beer refrigerator to follow Drac.
"Mick is missing," Sam said stoically while watching his partner walk into their home and then smiled. They had been together over two hundred years and he still could not help himself.
"The fuckin' taniwha?" Miri asked somehow mimicking the queen's suspicions.
"We don't know it and the ghoul at O'Shanley's are one in the same,"
Lars said. "But if they are, maybe we can help you find Mick. Pool our resources."
Sam studied Lars' face.
"Trust is a rare commodity among travelers," Lars said looking Sam in the eye.
Sam sighed looking at Lars' translation device on the bar.
"Miri did the scroll work," Lars said seeing Sam studying his TD.
"It's beautiful and similar to your ink," Sam said referring to the swirl tattoo on Lars' left forearm.
"Not my work," Miri added. "We think it's the galaxy."
"My parents died in freak accident," Lars explained, "when I was barely one-year old. My new mother's gave me a new name- their interpretation of the swirl."
"Makes sense," Sam said. "And just four controls," he added after gently raising the watch's cover.
"Don't let its apparent simplicity fool you," Miri said. "There are complex activation sequences for many applications."
"Comparing your toys?" Sara asked with a smirk as she arrived with four beers from the bar's chiller.
"I have the default set to follow," Lars continued, "at a small negative temporal disparity, any translation that takes place in its vicinity."
"The beast chaser default," Miri explained.
Sam resisted the temptation to pry further and instead pulled his TD
from his cargo short's pocket and placed it next to Lars' timepiece.
The advanced TD was dark green and rectangular about the same size as a deck of cards. Only Sam and Sara's triple helix DNA and thoughts could activate its controls.
"Although my family also tends to be very artistic," Sam said as Drac returned, "this is what amounts to a military spec device."
"Lars, your timepiece is particularly beautiful," Drac said gently nudging Sam aside to get a better look at the timepiece.
"Miri is the engraver," Lars said.
"Hand work? Extraordinary," Drac said in awe.
"Draconous, your coffee is coming up," Sara said as she made several quick inputs to The Machine.
Drac smiled. "Ah, one of life's huge pleas—
"Mom, Dad, I smell something bad!" Ces called out from the house.
"Is uncle Drac with you?" she asked cautiously.
"Yes," Sam yelled back.
"Ces?" Sara called out worriedly, still behind the machine.
"What's the red glow surrounding your TD, Sam," Lars asked cautiously just as Barney shrieked.
"Shit!" Sam said, desperately reaching across the bar to bring Sara into the necessary proximity for an imminent defensive translation.
RefPlane, 17 June 1984
"Fuck!" Sam yelled, echoing through the Pruchlais, realizing Sara had not made the translation that his TD's defensive routine had initiated.
"Where are we?" Miri asked looking around the caves ingress station at the delicately deformed strata surrounding them.
"More importantly, where are Sara and Ces?" Drac asked.
"Sam?" Lars asked cautiously.
"We're not in danger," Sam replied straining not to show the panic raising in him while picking his TD up from the fine-grained sandstone floor. The device's display glowed subtly green. "We are in a Family safe site," he explained.
Sam saw anguish in Drac's eyes that came close to matching his own feelings. "I need to check the monitors," Sam said as he touched his TD to display a feed from the post's temporal monitors.
"There were two translations at the Breeze following Drac's arrival earlier," he said, "but it should be safe now."
"Two? Very curious," Drac muttered.
"We are going back with you." Lars said and getting a nod from Miri.
"We must return now. The temporal consequences of our unexpected existence here cannot be predicted." Drac said looking around fearfully.
Sam nodded then activated his TD.
RefPlane +1, 17 June 1984
They appeared across the street from the Breeze.
"The place is still there," Miri said with relief while watching Barney fly in high circles over the enclave.
"Unlike O'Shanley's," Drac muttered as they rushed into the Breeze's courtyard.
"Sara! Ces!" Sam called out as they neared the bar.
There was no response.
"My watch is gone," Lars said angrily while scanning the rest of the bar as Sam ran to check the house.
"Nothing," Sam said returning, "except the remnants of the stench Ces mentioned."
"The beast?" Miri asked.
"Definitely most likely," Drac said pulling his orange waistcoat down tight over his not-so-subtle potbelly. "Sam, we must not rush. You know the protocols," he added.
"Fuck protocols," Sam whispered sitting heavily on the nearest stool and downing the nearest beer.
"Oh my. Now this is most unbelievable," Drac said noticing Lars rubbing his thumb nervously over the wedge-shaped greenstone pendant hanging from his neck. "May I?" Drac asked reaching for the stone.
Lars pulled the black cord over his head and handed the stone to the historian.
"Could this be one of the three?" Drac asked in wonder while pulling a small magnifying lens from a waistcoat pocket to study the stone in detail.
"Three what?" Sam asked sharply.
"It is one of the three segments of the Timestone," Drac replied enthralled while staring through his lens.
"Not that old myth." Sam said with a subtle moan.
"Never heard of it," Miri added.
"Hardly myth based on the data recovered from the scroll and the hint Mick left," Drac said.
Sam looked to Lars then Miri. "Mick left a note saying he had gone to Hell."
"Our only clue," Drac added.
"So," Sam continued after taking a deep breath, still trying to calm himself, "A search of Family archives produced an old scroll that we thought could shed some light on Hell."
Miri chuckled.
"First a bit of history," Drac injected. "Put simply, a genetic flaw is thought to have produced a horrendous illness in our family."
"However," Sam said, "the afflicted believe the condition is caused somehow by the Mór, a fabled omnipotent race inhabiting the innermost reaches of our galaxy."
"The Lár?" Miri asked.
"The same," Drac replied.
"Shit," Lars mumbled into his beer.
"An uncontrollable change occurs in about thirty percent of the Family," Drac continued. "This change can transform the afflicted into frightening beings such as demons, ghosts, ghouls- most anything reflected in the horror-filled, religious culture of the first millennium. Of course, centered on a domain called Hell."
"There are exceptions," Sara said looking fondly at Drac. "Many transformations can be into quite gentle, caring and insightful beings."
"Or just mischievous," Sam said knowing Laiths with even the mostly limited translation skills could be a real problem.
"In fact," Drac continued, "our best guess as to the cause of this change in the Family's second generation is the first nightmares in early childhood. In most, this change becomes permanent within a short time.
Thankfully, I appear to be a rare exception."
"We call those with the condition Laiths," Sam said, "and the worst affected have a sexual obsession regarding Solarian and Family females."
Miri appeared deep in thought and shook his head.
"So you think," Lars said after a long swig of beer, "that there's a connection between the ghoul that destroy O'Shanley's, the message Mick left behind as well as Ces and Sara's disappearance?"
Drac nodded as he handed the greenstone pendant back to Lars.
"How does this Timestone fit in?" Miri asked.
"A few recovered data segments of the scroll Sam and I analyzed indicate the Timestone is the key needed to pass through the tree into the Mandorla. An overlap between our existence and somewhere else."
"And that, I would venture to guess, would be Mick's Hell," Sam said.
"Yes, a definite possibility," Drac said.
"The tree?" Miri asked.
"The tree of life, my boy" Drac replied.
"And beyond this Mandorla is where this beast could be holding Helen and Tui?" Lars asked.
"And hopefully," Drac said, "Sara and Ces."
"Our first true lead to getting our women back, bro," Miri said excitedly to Lars.
"But how did Arapeta come by this?" Lars asked Miri.
"It's been taonga forever, bro," Miri said. "The elders pass its story down in song."
"I remember," Lars said reflectively. "It was supposedly given to the tribe for safekeeping by spirits from the west. I always thought it was just another piece of sacred greenstone."
Sam watched as Barney flared a soft landing on the barbeque. "The other segments of this Timestone?" he asked Drac.
Drac shrugged his shoulders. "Cross-referencing several key parts of the scroll indicates two places of potential interest: a planet called TarTarus and Fauth produce probability spikes within the continuum."
Sam groaned at the mention of the Laith city, Fauth, found in the galactic Outer Fringe. Apart from the Family sanctuary, the planetoid had become a home to free Laiths that regularly spawned, degraded duplicates. There were just too many to care properly for on Trua and countless souls had immigrated to Fauth. For many it was home even though it was overflowing with what humanity would call true sin.
"TarTarus is the Greek underworld," Miri said. "The planet could be known as Hell."
"And also figures into early Family myth regarding the line of Watchers," Drac added.
Sam knew the Watchers, supposedly mystical beings banished from fractime, predated the first generation. Banished by whom and for what reasons were lost to time, but somehow connected to the Family.
"As in the biblical Watchers?" Miri asked.
Drac shrugged his shoulders nervously.
"We should just go back and get Sara and Ces before the beast arrives," Lars said.
"You could," Sam said, "if we still had your TD. Unfortunately, mine won't influence my timeline."
"It's an inherent Family thing," Drac explained.
Sam knew exceptions were rare but he suspected Mick somehow had bent the rules before using the Turas Luath. Even so, Sam made a few quick inputs to his TD and then touched the device's activation control. "See," he said before finishing off the last of his beer.
"That's a bit of a restraint for travelers," Miri said, "but understandable," he added with a sigh and glance at Lars.
"So what's the plan?" Lars asked.
"There is more research required on the scrolls' recovered data and I have some ideas on a few other searches in the deep archives," Drac said.
"But I could use some help," he added looking to Miri.
"Sounds intriguing," Miri said happily.
"Sounds like we are going off planet," Sam said to Lars.
"TarTarus or Fauth first?" Lars asked.
"Fauth seems more likely to provide some answers than some mythical planet," Sam said feeling a severe need to do something now while trying to hide a subtle tremble in his hands.
"Oh, TarTarus is real enough," Drac said. "I have partial galactic coordinates from the scroll. It is found just outside the inhabitable zone of the inner galaxy. The exact coordinates should be able to be refined with further analyses and comparison to other citations."
Sam frowned. "Have Luc relay translation parameters to Fauth to my TD upon your arrival at the Citadel," he told Drac. "And TarTarus when you have them," he added with a sigh as he slid off his bar stool.
"I have a contact on Fauth," Drac said, "so I'll ensure the translation terminates near their location."
"What is the contact's name?" Sam asked. "And can we trust them?"
"Silho," Drac said, "Just don't leave the House as it may take time for you to find each other. And yes, I would trust her with the fate of the universe."
Sam moaned. The Laith-run House was notorious for debauchery.
Besides Laiths, it sported diverse alien species and fringe elements of humanity. A hundred and fifty years ago, he would not have flinched at such a mission. He took a deep, deliberate breath knowing he had to find Sara and Ces.
"Ready?" Drac said ignoring Sam while looking to Miri.
"Anytime historian," Miri replied as Drac reached out and grasped the Māori's shoulder before they both disappeared.
"Have you ever been to Fauth?" Sam asked Lars while recovering a small daypack from behind the bar.
"Never," he said slowly eying Barney flapping his wings hard enough to lose several feathers.
"Nevermore! Nevermore!" the Amazon squawked.
Null Space
Mick sighed as he nestled down into in the monk's worn, leather wingback chair. Armaros had always insisted Mick sit on a wooden, three-legged stool when they had any serious topics to discuss. He scanned the chamber but it was missing. It was not surprising as it had been centuries since their last long chat.
With help from Armaros' AI, he had managed to replace all the books and data stores, to their rightful places on the bookshelves. The chore had helped take his mind off his situation.
It annoyed him that he lacked a precise sense of duration and could only guess it had been several days since his arrival. There should have been a mission plan filed as he had convinced the council to enact that among other standard mission protocols ages ago. He knew Clare would
never let this one go and shook his head recalling the subtle attempt at humor with the simple note. Nevertheless, the note represented a glimmer of hope for rescue. However, when was a great unknown and he preferred not to think of the worst case-scenario.
Instead, Mick had resigned himself to catch up on some reading. He had already selected a reading list of books during the libraries reorganization that could shed some light on the tight spot in which he found himself. He knew which work would be first.
Armaros was always fond of simple illusions and the solitary book left on the shelves after the attack was a prime example. It now lie on a small table to the right of the chair next to a steaming cup of green tea the AI had just delivered. He had met the author briefly on an innocuous mission a few hundred years ago. He had never read the classic but that was about to change.
Glancing at the steaming cup of tea, Mick was thankful the monk's replicator and AI, both useless in all but the most basic tasks, still functioned. He would not starve even though the replicator's menu was quite plain. He wished for an Irish whiskey as he gazed at the book.
He picked it up, announcing the title aloud to the other books, "The origin of species by means of natural selection or the preservation of favored races in the struggle for life."