Miri stared down an aisle in the deep archives at its dim vanishing point. "The Family has a lot of data," he said awestruck.
"Most of these archives hold information rescued from our planet of genetic origin, Auriane, in its last moments," Drac said. "Our first queen made it her mission to find as many historical records and artifacts as possible that had survived the holocaust. It reportedly took her many centuries of searching the galaxy, even so, a few rare additions still turn up now and then," he added solemnly.
"Amazing," Miri said casually inspecting a detailed classification sticker on a nearby trunk.
"We're in one of the few Sol elements containing hardcopy," Drac said twirling around. "All time insensitive, of course."
He pulled a dusty, leather bound book from an old crate. "I think this is it," he added brushing dust off the cover of the tome, "the Lapidem Temporis."
"The stone of time," Miri repeated then coughed.
"You speak Latin," Drac said.
"I take to languages," Miri said shyly.
Drac turned to look at the young Maori. "Excellent. Are you versed in any of the Calma dialects?"
"A bit," he replied. "Mainly technical jargon. Lars and I have relied on their published temporal research for several major upgrades to the watch."
Drac blew more dust from the book's jacket before guiding Miri into a chair at a nearby workstation. "See what you can find out about TarTarus," he said happily taking a seat next to Miri while reaching over to the station to release its security protections.
Miri activated the workstation's holographic display and quickly brushed his fingers through the screen to find and then enter the Calma research domain.
Drac flipped over several pages of the book. "Hmmm. It is as I remembered. It been ages since I have had a look at this," he said.
"And?" Miri asked.
"Mainly superficial information," Drac replied feeling focused on the task before them as he rapidly scanned pages.
"Hey, from my perspective," Miri said, "anything is better than nothing."
"Of course," Drac said apologetically. "You keep digging while I summarize, my good boy. The Time Preceptors first brought the Timestone into this sector sometime in the first galactic epoch."
"Preceptors?"
"They are secretive, distant sector meddlers. Seemingly not a bad bunch, reportedly having a touch of Mór in their humanoid genetics,"
Drac explained.
"Like the Laiths," Miri added. "But that's not necessarily bad?"
"So history tells us on Earth," Drac replied, "and in at least one case, the change can be an incredible good. However, like most things, good also tends to come with equal, if not more than its fair share of malevolence. The change most Laiths endure is benign, like mine that is hideous but I'm still me. Unfortunately, a growing minority of Laiths is not so fortunate and with every spawn it gets worse."
"And how do sectors fit in to the fractal geometry of the multiverse?" Miri asked while leaning the top of the book.
Drac nodded as he delicately to flipped pages of the ancient tome.
"Infinite sectors compose Fractime," he said, "Our RP, the Reference Plane, both up and down history, is but one."
Miri paused interacting with the holo display. "Lars and I have had many long arguments over the multiverse's true nature. He's fairly
convinced upline and downline are fabrications from basic linear translation tech."
Drac nodded thinking there was no harm in providing his opinion on such a basic physics controversy. "Non-linear TDs such as the Time Corps use and I suppose your exquisite timepiece simply jump across the fractal, but that nature still underlies all."
"Guess Lars owes me a beer then," Miri said happily.
"You must not let that watch fall into enemy hands," Drac said knowing the danger of another nonlinear translation tech represented.
"We have many built in safe guards," Miri responded stoically.
Drac felt sadness as he thought of Sara. "Of course," he said softly.
"And the Family travels to these sectors?" Miri asked.
"Goodness no," Drac said blinking teary eyes. "One would have to access the Mandorla."
"But the Time Preceptors did," Miri said.
"Apparently," Drac agreed opening the book to an illustration of the Timestone showing it in three distinct parts. "There are rumors our first queen had rare but fruitful contacts with them," he added in a whisper.
Miri leaned over to study the picture. "That's the taonga," he said pointing to one segment.
"This book tells of the Preceptors trying to halt extra-sector travel of several nasty entities so they hid the segments for safe keeping," Drac explained.
"Why Earth and this sector?" Miri asked.
"Good question," Drac replied shrugging his shoulders. "Some unidentified evil in our home sector in the second galactic epoch attempted to find the segments but only succeeded in joining two," he added pointing to the illustration. "The third, up to now, was lost."
"And my family has had it for countless generations," Miri said shaking his head, "and now Lars has it around his neck."
"It seems so and it's a dangerous situation," Drac said flipping pages to the last few of the book. "Ah, here it is. Trees are scattered across our sector with two in our home galaxy. The rest are all located within the Local Group."
"Trees?" Miri asked cautiously.
"Tree's of life," Drac said. "Portals into or through the Mandorla, who knows?"
"Lucky us," Miri quipped.
"Very," Drac agreed believing Miri sincere.
"I've found two vague references to the planet," Miri reported turning the display to face Drac. "They are in the same general galactic neighborhood but have slight deviations in spellings in the Calma domain and different coordinates."
"Interesting," Drac said pushing his figure through one of the citations on the display. "There's advanced security wrapped around its position. However, it just so happens I have had admin privileges in the domain for a long time," he added activating a virtual keyboard then entered several text commands.
"Wow," Miri said as a galactic 3D image opened next to the display.
"There and then it is," Drac said while pointing to a faint star tagged by a partially transparent, spherical icon near the inner Milky Way.
"That's where the portal should be," he added while copying both the spatial and temporal information with a stubby pencil to a small paper pad he had pulled from his waistcoat.
"When is it?" Miri asked.
"I've used the reference we, as well as Sam and Lars, all have in common. The Breeze, 17 June 1984. Standard operating procedure."
Miri zoomed the display and then gazed at the gray, cloudy planet.
"What model does the Family use for translations?" he asked.
Drac smiled at Miri's clever question knowing the galactic structure seen from Earth at any instant was a hodgepodge of then-planes limited by the speed of photons.
"The TC has a model that we use with a few but important adjustments," Drac replied not yet ready to reveal more details. "It's fairly accurate for the surrounding billion years."
"So, do we know where the planet is now?" Miri asked.
"I hope so, my good man," Drac said reverently as he closed the book.
"I have the latest projection and the results you requested," Lunian said to her queen atop the citadel's eastern tower and far above the Drac and Miri in the deep archives.
"Yes," the queen said then hesitated, "I remember, the facial recognition results for our independents. Has the event stabilized as predicted?"
"It appears so," Luinan, Elder Sister of the Family and next in line of succession replied. "It has settled somewhen summer to early fall of 2068, RP+1 of course. Tye's calculations were accurate, given the uncertainty surrounding a great solar flare," she added.
The shock to local dark matter by such an enormous coronal mass ejection would have widespread effects including inducing large anomalies in the Earth's magnetic field and temporarily halting extra-universe translations. Lunian knew such an event could be a rare tactical opportunity in the coming war or spell doom to all on earth if the ejection was too big.
"That's the timetable," the queen said softly. "The snowball is rolling."
"We're on schedule," Luinan said, as the queen drifted away, lost in thought.
"You've seen the TC's report on the solar system search?" the queen asked.
"I was hopeful," Luinan replied disheartened. "Where are the bastards hiding?" she asked referring to the base of operations of the enemy's command structure.
"We better find them and soon," the queen said with a sigh, "as the TC seems incapable of accomplishing anything lately."
"I hope your visit to Plus 1 went well," Luinan said hoping it was a good time to breach another thorny subject.
"Just a quick visit," the queen replied curtly.
"The queen repeatedly breaking family canon would not be a good look," Luinan kindly told her mother.
"The end times approach, Elder Sister," the queen responded sternly.
"I am sure your conscience will wrestle over much worse when you are queen than stimulating a few writers to aid indirectly in the war effort,"
she added before coughing deeply.
"I'm sure that will be long time in coming," Luinan said. "It's just that we continue to meddle. I fully understand RP+1's tactical importance with this insane war racing at us from upline, but—
"The traces?" the queen asked sharply, interrupting her daughter.
Luinan took a deep breath. She was furious at the queen and the council's repeated refusal to discuss the constant changes imparted to RP+1.
"The Maori boy appears in fractime far up and downline," she reported stoically, "and has a slight historical coefficient."
"And the man, Lars?" the queen asked.
"He exists only within the local anomaly," Lunian said referring to long-studied similarity difference between four fractimes: RP-1 through RP+2. She recalled the unusual discovery in the early twentieth century of that significant difference of similarity between the fractimes.
It had been a research focus of hers for decades, but she and other Family scientists still do not understand the disparity. Enemy infiltration seemed to be the best explanation but Luinan remained unconvinced.
"You think their limited existence spurious?" the queen asked.
"There is a small variance in birthdays and they are all scientists of different disciplines. Also, his fractime twins' female partners only exist in the same fractimes," Lunian added.
"A mystery for sure child," the queen said grasping Luinan's arm.
"And scientists you say. Maybe the ancient legend is upon us," she added seemingly deep in thought before releasing her frail grip.
"Given the war will surely destroy what we know of future history within decades, it is impossible to predict," Lunian said soberly. "But there's another's far more troubling connection," she added cautiously.
"I don't have all morning," the queen said squinting against one of Trua's binary suns to look her daughter in the eye.
"The RP+1 partner of our adopted councilman links to at least one future association with the same versions of Lars," Luinan explained.
"Although, as you know, the war's future arrival has contaminated the statistical model."
"Plus one you say," the queen repeated in a whisper.
"Yes ma'am."
"Monitor her," the queen ordered. "See if we can determine any more linkage to the Family. She or her RP twin may be of use later as an asset, so best to keep an eye on her as the future starts to unravel."
"We cannot discount the possibility of First Accord breaches being responsible for the local anomaly," Luinan added thinking the Family, especially the Laiths, was responsible by continuously influencing their own timeline.
"I've heard your theories before," the queen said with subtle exasperation, grasping a crenellation for support.
"On another but possibly related subject," Lunian added respectfully.
"Yes?" the queen said with obvious fatigue.
"I have informed Tye of her forthcoming posting in RP+1," Lunian said. "She's relieved to get out of the similarity archives."
"She's a warrior sister," the queen said, smiling and gazing over the large, cobalt bay in the distance. "She'll be fine, even on such a long-duration entrenched, assignment."
"She's critical to your unprecedented plan," Lunian said flatly, concerned for her sister on such a lengthy assignment.
"You mean the one where we give linear TD tech to the American government in desperation?" the queen asked rhetorically.
Luinan, born under Oklahoma and technically an American citizen, had concerns about the Family's right to influence the behemoth that was the US government.
"I have verified several possible deep covers for her use," Luinan continued, softening her attitude to her queen.
"Let's let Tye decide on her cover," the queen said gazing into her daughters violet eyes.
"Of course."
"And Flint has agreed to handle her," the queen said and then sighed before adding, "until Mick returns."
Lunian took a deep breath, bowed her head then turned to leave but stopped. "And what of Uncle Mick's disappearance?" she asked with her back to the queen.
The queen, staring down over the parapet at Cosain city below, said.
"I trust brother Sam will resolve the matter soon."
Null Space
Closing the last book, Mick replaced it neatly on top of the others on the small table. He pulled the bottom book from the stack recalling his
fondness for breeding fancy rabbits and pigeons centuries ago and then stared at the back of the shut portal.
The book shed no light on his problem. He pondered the significance the obvious parallel Darwin's work had with the tree of life that adorned both sides of the sealed entrance to the monk's realm. It remained another of Armaros' riddles.
The other volumes held no clues either. He glanced at his half-full teacup, long cold, and then stretched grabbing hold of the top of each wing on the old leather chair. A subtle clank issued from beneath the chair as he gently pulled part of his weight off the worn seat. Standing up, he heard a gentle thump beneath the chair.
Great, he thought, after all the years the monk had sternly refused a young Mick a seat in the old chair, now he had broken it.
Shaking his head, he bent over to examine what damage he had done only to find a book. Its leather binding, severely cracked, barely held the volume together. Mick chuckled as he examined the bottom of the chair finding no obvious hiding place for the book. Just like Armaros, he mused.
Mick gently picked up the tattered book and then sat back down.
Releasing the books clasp then tenderly opening the unadorned cover, he smiled recognizing the monk's handwriting on the otherwise blank first page.
My Little Brother,
The time of the watchers has ended. Eons ago, I swore an oath on my soul to watch over this galaxy in secrecy as we judged humanity far too immature to involve in such a conflict that consumes us. Yet, I felt no shame in confiding in you some of the truths you have needed up to now to aid us in this battle
The Family is now all that stands between humanities future and the many-sided malevolence we have fought for centuries. I rejoice in my death that has released my oath so I can at last give you the meager knowledge you so well deserve.
Know that I pray for you,
Armaros
Mick wiped away tears as he sat back in the chair. He was still young, perhaps only eight years of duration, when Zuinall, the Family's founding matriarch, brought him to TarTarus. She had told him Armaros would help him see the true nature of the multiverse.
Mick had no siblings then, just version one of the AI Luc. The rest of the first generation would appear years later at the Family haven in the Western Isles. So when Queen Mother Zuinall was absent, sometimes for decades, he treasured his visits with Armaros even more.
Mick gazed at the scarred floor where his mentor had passed and again, sadness flooded through him at the loss of such goodness in the universe. He recalled their journeys across the galaxy, long discussions on every topic imaginable, and most of all the early missions the monk had assigned to him.
Those missions were just dangerous enough that Mick understood well the cost of failure. In hindsight, he knew those experiences framed his education into the complexities of both good and evil. The Monk had given him an invaluable gift: grounding.
As Mick gently turned the first page, Luc appeared standing before him.
"Master O'Shanley, I see you have returned," the AI quipped.
"Luc?" Mick asked, wondering which copy of the AI this projection represented.
I am a condensed copy, coded for this meeting only," the AI explained. "After which I shall expire. I suggest we begin. There are several topics to cover."
"You can't teach the replicator to create a Partagas cigar can you?"
Mick asked hopefully.
Luc laughed stiffly.
"I thought not." Mick sighed. "Please, continue."
Mick grinned as Luc clasped his hands behind his back in an all too familiar pre-lecture ritual.
"Your understanding of the early history of the Family is incomplete," Luc said. "And please ask questions if you require further information," the AI added before continuing.
"Armaros as well as the other few Watchers scattered across the Reference Plane are your genetic brothers," Luc said. "Your shared code reflects both Solarian and Auriane composition."
Mick knew his Auriane genetics well enough but the fact he was part Earth human as well as somehow shared origins with the order of monks was surprising. "The Watchers and I have the same origins?" he asked realizing this could explain his difference in appearance to the rest of the Family.
"I do not have that information," Luc replied, "but the successful intertwining of both double and triple helix DNA is a formidable accomplishment. It is curious you have several superior attributes over those in Armaros' order."
Mick had serious doubts over the AI's claim. "Does Sam have the same origins?"
"I have no data on second generation," Luc said flatly.
"What of Amanda and Sally?" Mick asked of Sam's parents, both lost in the Laith uprising.
Luc paused briefly. "They lacked Solarian DNA."
Sam is still a mystery then, Mick reflected. "Who had the capabilities to perform such a procedure?" he asked.
"There are two possibilities. In the First Galactic Epoch, the Red race is reputed to have had such capability," Luc replied.
"That's a long time passed," Mick reflected. "And the second?"
"The Mór," Luc replied.
Mick frowned at the mention of the boogey beings of the galaxy.
"You suggest the Mór are real?"
"I do not suggest. I convey fact."
Mick knew the spacer stories of juvenile Mór meddling with humanity but never put much stock in them. However, it was an interesting coincidence the Laiths believed the Mór was responsible for their terrible change.
"Why would the Mór meddle in Family history?" Mick asked.
"I am unable to disclose that answer."
Mick sighed as he wished for a whiskey.
"However," Luc continued, "the focus of Master Armaros and his order has been an evil entity in the Milky Way. They believed it shares their origins and be a rogue brother."
"What?"
"However, the focus of evil in—
"Stop," Mick injected while pondering what the AI had just reveled.
"How then is this brother so powerful?" he asked.
"I would have to speculate to answer to your question."
"Continue."
"The most likely reason is Mór."
"And why would the Mór design such an evil?"
"Your premise that Mór could be directly responsible for the evil is weak. Homo sapien as well as Auriane components or their combination is also a possibility. Or that Mór—
"Next topic," Mick demanded.
"I have one more piece of cross-referenced information regarding Mór," Luc added.
"Let's have it."
"The realm of the Mór, the Mandorla, is accessible through the tree of life," the AI said turning briefly to face the oval portal.
"The Mandorla?" Mick asked while looking at the portal of the monk's sanctuary and remembering the arguments he had with Armaros about the door's decoration.
"Also known as null space." Luc added.
Mick nodded. His mentor had steadfastly refused many times to discuss the true meaning of the intricate carving. After one such quarrel and in a flurry of childish anger, Mick refused to visit the Monk again believing his studies were complete. It was a decision he regretted deeply over several centuries and never told anyone else in the Family about his mentor.
"Explain the meaning of this carving," Mick said as he walked over to the closed door.
"Classical literature—
"Stop," Mick said harshly in frustration as he inspected again the design he knew so well. "What of this?" he asked referring to the hemispheric recess, identical with one on the door's other side.
"A key space," Luc replied.
Mick sighed at the limits of this version of Luc. "Describe the key."
"The Timestone, one of the infinite stones, matches the lock."
Not more myths, Mick thought shaking his head. "And how does it work?"
"The Mór-derived, three-segment key opens sanctuary portals and allows access to the Mandorla. One can use the complete stone from the interior of a Watcher's portal to communicate with the Mór providing correct insertion of the key. Such key spaces appear on identical oval gateways in each of the order's sanctuaries."
"The order communicated with the Mór?"
"For many eons," Luc replied, "the watchers tried to enlist the Mór's aid in expelling their rogue brother from fractime with little success.
However, the Mór grew weary of the order's constant requests and prevented further contact."
"How can I open this door?" Mick asked deciding pragmatism would be good about now.
"As the last watcher has passed, the Timestone can only open this temporal vault."
"And where is this stone?"
"When the Mór demanded the Timestone's return, the order hid the segments in history hoping that the future Mór would change its position and destroy the evil. Such an extensive search of space-time for each segment would not have been of interest to the Mór and in all likelihood they remain lost."
As Mick sighed, tracing his finger slowly around the key's circular space, Luc asked, "Are you ready for the next topic?"
"It seems we have the time," Mick replied dryly.