The Adventures of Tremain & Christopher BoxSet

by Terry Marchion

  Tremain's head whipped up at the sound.

  "Christopher?" He walked a few steps towards the sound, but was blocked by Aziza. She held her gun at the ready. There was a scrabbling sound, and a figure dashed out towards them.

  "Mom!"

  Aziza whirled around. Tremain's mouth dropped open when he recognized the figure.

  "Leesa?" He mouthed.

  His intern?

  He glanced at Aziza.

  Mom?

  The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. Leesa had been Aziza's spy in the lab, feeding information to her mother. Leesa had stolen the pictograph. Leesa had injured Jenkins. He stood in astonishment as the two embraced. Seeing the two together, he could finally see the resemblance. He hadn't noticed it before, as he and Aziza hadn't seen each other in years. He had no reason to suspect a thing. He felt like a fool.

  "She's your daughter?" Tremain asked once he found his voice.

  Aziza turned her head to look at him, her eyes mocking.

  "The best thing that my husband," she fairly spat out the word, "ever gave me."

  Leesa took the gun from her mother's hand.

  "I followed that idiot," she waved her hand in the direction of Christopher's voice, "after he escaped me. He didn't think anyone could follow him with the transmitter, but he didn't realize I knew where I was going. Hold on, I'm going to take care of this." She took aim, and pulled the trigger.

  Tremain had time to look up and see a figure behind the rocks. His face went white and fear clutched at his heart like a fist.

  "Christo . . .” The deadly beam of energy hit the figure and the stones next to it. There was a flash of light, a thunderclapping sound, a cry of alarm and pain that was cut short. The dust cleared to show the top of the pile of stones had been cleanly blown away. Tremain's eyes went wide.

  "CHRISTOPHER! NOOOO!" He fell to his knees. Aziza walked over to him.

  He looked up at her, his eyes full of despair.

  “What am I going to tell his mother?" He said in a small voice. His face hardening, he stood, coming right up to her, nose to nose. "Is this what you had intended, Aziza? Kill everyone who gets in your way? What did my nephew ever do to deserve that?!" The anger and grief overwhelming him. "Considering our history, why am I still alive then?" He whirled on Leesa, her eyes wide at the destruction she caused. "And you . . ." he stopped as she raised the gun at him, then kept walking forward. "Is life that worthless to you? Has she tainted your soul so much that you can so easily end someone else's existence?"

  He walked right up to the girl, his eyes locked onto hers, then closed his hand around the gun. He pulled it away from her trembling hand easily, then whirled and threw it as hard as he could over the edge of the ravine.

  Aziza watched all this in silence, then beckoned to her daughter, who scurried into her mother's embrace.

  "We're done with you anyway, Tremain." She said, a coldness in her voice. She cocked her head as another sound became audible; the drone of engines. Her eyes darted back to Tremain. "Looks like your cavalry is arriving. I'd better prepare their reception!" She took Leesa's arm and they went over to the gears.

  Tremain watched as they walked away, his shoulders sagging in despair. He turned to the still smoking stones. Slowly, he walked over to them, not wanting to see the aftermath, but knowing he had no choice.

  Taking a deep breath, he rounded the pile … to see nothing.

  Of course.

  The energy would have vaporized whatever it hit. He saw a duffel sitting by a tree, just beyond the stones. He walked over to it and sat down, his hands cradling the pack. He lifted it and heard a rattle. Reaching inside, he pulled out a pair of silver cubes, as his eyes started to fill with tears. There was a rustling next to him and a figure sat down at his left.

  "I'm afraid the rest of those are toast, uncle." Tremain barely heard the voice, but he took in a shuddering breath as he whirled to see Christopher, alive and well, a small grin on his face. The cubes and pack tossed aside, Tremain grabbed his nephew and pulled him into a tight embrace, relief flooding him. Just as suddenly, he pushed himself away, studying the teenager.

  "So Leesa shot at what she thought was you, but instead was . . .”

  "The nano blocks!" Christopher finished, holding up and shaking the tablet. The image on the screen was of a figure of himself, controlling the blocks' form. He juggled it a little as his uncle smothered him in another huge hug. Tremain pulled back, straightened his shirt and gave a sniff, getting himself under control.

  "I thought I'd lost you." He said in a hoarse voice. "Your mother . . .” He trailed off.

  Christopher's grin faded.

  "Yeah. I get it." He took a glance over his shoulder. "Uncle, we have to stop them."

  Tremain shook his head.

  "They're going to stop themselves." He indicated the engine noise with a nod of his head. "The troops are arriving." Tremain stood up to see soldiers running over, guns drawn and trained on Aziza and her daughter. Senator Marcus strode behind them. He caught a glimpse of Tremain and Christopher.

  Aziza calmly put her hand to the gears.

  "STOP!" she yelled. The soldiers halted, their guns never wavering. "I will activate this weapon if you come any closer!" Her voice carried through the area, echoing off the rock walls. Marcus slowly walked over to Tremain.

  "Are you hurt?" He asked in a low voice. He turned to Christopher. "Thanks for the tip about the homing signal in that tablet. It helped us find you." Christopher nodded in acknowledgment. "We've arrested her men and freed the professor and his students." He cocked his head towards Aziza, her hand still on the handle of the gears. "What about her?" He asked. "Did you know she had financed this expedition?"

  Tremain shook his head.

  "I had no idea. She even had a spy in my lab." He scratched his head, his eyes going wide. "I really need to screen my interns better." He shook himself and brushed past the senator. "Right. Let's end this, shall we?"

  Chapter 15

  Tremain walked out from behind the rocks. His face was grave, his hands held in front of him, gesturing for calm. Aziza's grip tightened on the handle of the gears.

  "Don't come any closer, Tremain." She shouted. "I will activate this weapon!"

  He stopped, nodding.

  "I have no doubt you will." He put his hands down. "But what will you be activating? Do you know what that is? What it does?" He shook his head. "No, you don't." He took a step or two closer. She tensed her arm, the gear rotating slightly. He stopped.

  "I will do it!" She yelled at him, her face contorting in rage. "Don't play games!"

  "Fine." He looked at her with pity. "Do it." The soldiers glanced up at Tremain. Marcus started to protest, but he stopped with a wave from Tremain. His eyes never left Aziza's. "Go ahead, Zee. Activate it. Let's see if you can really do it. Kill me, kill everyone here. Who knows, you may sterilize this half of the continent." He took another few steps towards her, daring her with his actions. Christopher held his breath. "Go ahead, Zee."

  Aziza stared at Tremain, her eyes both defiant and pleading. Without breaking eye contact, she gave a hard push to the gear, sending it turning.

  The vine Tremain had installed in the mechanism pulled taut. The soldiers stepped back as a grinding sound grew to deafening proportions. The ground underneath their feet shuddered with unseen forces. Aziza's eyes were wild as the gears picked up speed. She gave them another push, then turned to Tremain with a triumphant smile on her face.

  "Say your goodbyes." she yelled, her voice thick with emotion. The rumbling increased. The soldiers broke rank, running back to the relative safety of the cliffs. Openings appeared in the rock face in regular intervals.

  Tremain didn't flinch.

  A roaring sound emanated from the fresh gashes in the rocks. Christopher imagined every sort of horror that could be coming through those orifices, every sort of death known to man, frightened of the ones that were unknown. His worry was cut short, however, when the ape
rtures released their contents.

  Water spewed from each vent in the rock face, arching across and over the valley. The purpose of the tumbles of rocks became apparent. The structures that were intact received the emanations from two or three of the water streams, quickly over-filling and flooding over the sides. Troughs, which weren't readily visible at first, filled with the spill-over, creating torrents of water that streamed around them.

  Aziza stared in shock. Above the rushing of the water came another sound.

  Laughter.

  She whirled around to see Tremain bowled over, hands clutching his middle, laughing uncontrollably. He pointed at her and erupted in more hysterical laughing.

  His laughter finally running its course, he caught his breath, gasping out;

  "You . . . should . . . have . . . seen . . . your . . . face!" He took a deep shuddering breath and grinned at her. Her face filled with rage and fury.

  "You knew this would happen." She yelled at him. Tremain nodded.

  "Yep. I had it figured out just after we saw it." He glanced around. "Pretty obvious when you think about it, what with water over there and pipes . . .” His sharp gaze pierced her. "The Mayflower people were peaceful. They had no need of weapons like you imagined. They were hunters, farmers, engineers." His hands swept the valley. "You activated their irrigation system. What did you think this was going to be?" He pointed at her. "Your single-minded, myopic viewpoint blinded you to the facts staring you in the face. You're finished." His words hung in the air. Aziza hung her head, Leesa clinging to her.

  "Mom . . . use it." She held out a small device. It looked like a white baton, a green button at the end. Tremain's eyes widened as he saw it. Fear once again gripped his chest.

  "Aziza. That's not what I think it is?" Her hand closed around the device and triumph gleamed in her eyes.

  "You didn't think I wouldn't have an escape plan, Tremain?" She held up the device, the button illuminated in the sun. "Thanks to my daughter, and by proxy you, I have my own transmitter." The fear that had gripped him twisted again. He grimaced. The old plans in the lab that had gone missing. Leesa had stolen them.

  "Don't push that button, Zee." Panic filled his voice. "Those plans were seriously flawed." He held his hands in front of her, pleading. "There's a reason they were to be thrown out. If you push that button, I don't know that you'll survive the trip." He took a step or two forward. His words had an effect on her. She looked at the button, doubt in her eyes. She glanced at Leesa, who looked up at her mother, eyes wide. She shook her head as if to say she didn't know. Aziza stood up straight, the button held out in front of her. She shook her head and laughed.

  "You didn't think I would fall for that, Tremain?"

  "We tested it!" Leesa shouted from behind her mother. Tremain stood, hands at his sides, water dripping from his face from the spray still spewing around them. He looked at her with sad eyes.

  "Did you test it on a live subject?" The look in their eyes was answer enough. "No. I would never try to deceive you, Zee. I'm in earnest. Push that button and you'll die." She hesitated, looked beyond to see Senator Marcus and Christopher coming up to Tremain, Christopher's eyes wide and his face pale. He shook his head at them, mouthing "don't do it" at them. Aziza held the button, not sure if she should believe Tremain.

  Leesa took the decision away from her.

  "To hell with this, Mom." She sneered and closed her hand over her mother's. Aziza had time to look up in fear as a coruscating light enveloped them.

  Tremain looked on, not blinking. The light surrounding the women started to fade, taking them with it, but then it … hitched.

  It flickered, then skipped. The light grew dim, then bright again, the figures inside looking different … distorted. Tremain took a gasping breath.

  The light skipped again.

  And again.

  With each hiccup in the light, the figures looked less and less recognizable. Then it, and they, were gone. Nothing remained but a dark burn mark on the stones where Aziza and Leesa had stood. Tremain's head dropped.

  "Goodbye." His whisper silent amid the sound of the falling water.

  Epilogue

  Tremain stood in his empty lab, staring at the transmitter. He ran his hands over the sides, feeling the coolness of the metal. The casing gleamed, the last remaining panel having been recently installed. He'd just heard from Senator Marcus. The audit of the Tyndall Foundation had concluded, the board having been found completely innocent of any wrong-doings. Aziza and her daughter seemed to be the beginning and the end of the criminal element. They were still trying to track down the warehouse where Christopher had been imprisoned. Presumably, that was where the flawed transmitter would be found as well.

  Christopher came in from the kitchen, a plated sandwich held in each hand. He glanced at his uncle's desk. For once it was clean and bare, save one item. An old beat-up notebook was open on it. Christopher recognized his uncle’s handwriting, with a passage or two written in a more feminine hand.

  "Ah. I see you anticipated me,” Tremain exclaimed as he spied the sandwiches. Grabbing one and leaving his nephew holding the plate, he took a huge bite. Chewing loudly, he sat down on a lab table, pushing aside some clutter. He grimaced, then pulled out from the pile a plate with a shriveled item on it. Upon closer examination it appeared to be the dessicated remains of a sandwich. "So that's where that one went." He turned his head and grimaced as he dumped it, plate and all, into the nearest garbage pail. Christopher sat next to the desk, eating with less abandon than his uncle.

  "Are you doing ok, Uncle?" He asked.

  Tremain gave a weak smile.

  "I'll be fine." He answered through a mouthful of food. "Seeing her again brought back many memories." He barked out a short laugh. "Most of them good." He gestured to the desk and the notebook. "I've been reviewing my old notebooks and notes. Aziza had a brilliant mind at one time. Makes me wonder what she could have done with it."

  The computer behind Christopher gave a loud series of chimes, making him jump. Tremain rushed over to it.

  "It's Hollis." he said. "He's been updating me on their findings at the dig site." He stood up. "They've uncovered almost the entire settlement. Seems the Mayflower people lived in the valley, only coming up to hunt and scout. They've found utensils, cooking implements, all sorts of things." He gave his nephew a wink. "And not a single weapon of any kind." He stared at the images on the screen. "There's only one thing that's been bothering me,” he mused.

  "What would that be?" Christopher asked, shoving the last bit of food in his mouth. Tremain's sandwich sat to the side, on the bare table, only a few bites taken from it.

  "The puzzle rooms, the maze, the structures down in the valley. Hollis has found a whole network of tunnels and caverns constructed the same way. Some of those seemed much older than a few hundred years. They seemed thousands of years old, older than our presence here on the planet." He looked over at his nephew. "If the Mayflower people didn't build those things, who did?" He stared at the images on his screen. "Who indeed?"

  The Bargain

  Wheels screeching, the white van pulled away from the Hawing lab building just as Christopher pushed through the hedges that separated the lab grounds from Centennial Park.

  The smart-sign on the side of the vehicle, which would have usually displayed the delivery company logo, showed only static.

  He watched with not a little curiosity as the van took the corner too fast, going onto two wheels as it barely made the turn.

  “Either someone is in a super hurry, or that company needs to get their AI fixed.” Christopher muttered as he ran up the steps to the front entrance.

  “Hey, Christopher,” he heard as he pushed his way from the atrium into the lab. He waved to Desmond, his uncle’s longest tenured assistant. The man always seemed to have a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye. Nobody understood his uncle better than Desmond. The empty lab echoed around the two, it being a Saturday. Christopher had promis
ed his uncle he’d come help with some experiments in exchange for some homework assistance.

  Desmond set the broom handle down (he always seemed to be sweeping something) and glanced out the lab door.

  “You must have passed Tremain on the way out. He said he had an errand to run.”

  “No, I didn’t see him.” Christopher replied, setting his book bag down next to his uncle’s desk. “Where did he say he was going?”

  Desmond shook his head.

  “He didn’t say. A couple of guys came in, had a word with him, then they all left.” The older man reached up and scratched the back of his head. “Come to think of it, they didn’t look too happy with him.”

  Christopher sat down and looked long and hard at Desmond.

  “You’re pulling my leg, aren’t you?” He asked. “You’re trying to make me think Uncle Tremain was kidnapped?”

  Desmond turned to Christopher, his brow furrowed. Concern filled his face.

  “I don’t know what I just saw, Chris. But I do know some bad types when I see ‘em.” He picked up the broom once again. “Those types were as bad as they come.”

  “Maybe we should call Senator Markus?” Christopher suggested.

  “We should give it a couple of minutes first. That way, if Tremain doesn’t come back, we know.”

  So they sat and waited. Desmond becoming increasingly uneasy, Christopher feeling less and less like this was a joke. Eventually, Desmond stood up and activated the smart wall, connecting with the Senator’s office.

  While Desmond talked to Markus, Christopher had an idea. He pulled up his uncle’s old keyboard (all the technology in the world, and his uncle still liked pounding on actual keys) and brought up the homing program on the computer.

  His uncle was nothing if not careful. Each piece of tech from the lab came equipped with a homing chip of Tremain’s own design so things wouldn’t get lost or mysteriously disappear. Tremain’s own tablet had the latest iteration of the chip. He always had his tablet rolled up in his pocket.