There was no way he was messing with this chick with a guy that was six foot seven and two hundred forty plus. Caleb took in his outfit. Intimidating-much, he had so many weapons hanging off him Caleb couldn't see his clothes. His eyes went back to the girl.
She stood before Caleb. After a moment of mutual study she smiled and it was breathtaking. The abuse of her face, the blood and sweat covering her from head to toe... she still managed to look regal.
Caleb could see that she was a queen, it didn't matter what she wore, she held herself with grace and purpose. She narrowed that purpose on him and asked softly, “What say you?”
Caleb stared... what? He completely couldn't understand her and turned to John.
“What's she asking, John?” Caleb asked.
John shrugged. “I don't know... but, it sounds like some kind of late, 19th century diction. Not exactly, but around there.”
Caleb looked at how everyone was dressed. Weird... old-fashioned. Huh.
“Hi, ah... we're here to help fix your dome,” Caleb said and pointed to the sphere wall and corrected himself, “I mean, your sphere.”
Daniel came to stand beside Clara. “He speaks as a fragment somewhat, however...” Clara shrugged helplessly, “I cannot make sense of most of his speech.”
“These guys don't get what we're saying, dude,” Jonesy said, restating the obvious.
“Ya think?” Tiff said with a hard eye roll.
Clara gave Tiff a steady look and she blushed, the color washing up to her face in a dull brick color. Sophie grinned. No one ever saw Tiff embarrassed, priceless.
Daniel smiled at Clara as Matthew approached the group, the boys shifting nervously as he got closer, his sheer physical size was pretty alarming up close.
“Ya know, Caleb,” Jonesy said in a nervous voice, “I'm thinkin' you better get elaborating. Speedy-like.” He looked at the Band, all of them spreading and encircling the teens.
Daniel watched the young Travelers with some amusement, little more than children. “Let me assist in this Clara.”
Daniel faced the one that was the puppeteer for the dead, his dark hair and eyes sitting in a face of keen intelligence. Daniel's eyes swept the young man's body, he was well-knit as well, not soft.
“I am Daniel. Why are you here this day?”
“Hi, I'm Caleb Hart. We've come to repair the damage to the sphere.”
Daniel's brows drew together.
He turned to Clara and raised his voice for all the Band to hear, “This one says that he and his comrades shall arrest the progression of damage caused by the pellets of salt.”
The Band nodded but one asked, the one whose eyes never left Caleb. “Aye... so easily? The Master over the Dead seeks to reverse damage to a most modern and complicated structure,” Matthew scoffed, “I think not.”
“Okay, so I guess we need to convince these guys.” Caleb turned to John. “Can't you like, run interference or some crap? We need to get this party started.”
“Well... I did take a medieval speech course last summer,” John said with hesitation.
“No shit, Terran?” Bry said.
John sighed. “Yeah, could you keep the swearing to a minimum? I'm not sure what's offensive to these people.”
“Yeah moron, do an Ali- Nazi-out on their asses.”
The Band frowned and moved closer to Jonesy. “Kidding... kidding, big Dudes.” He raised his palms in supplication and laughed nervously, then gulped.
“Jonesy, shut up,” Randi said, the men of the Band looking at her with curiosity. She, Sophie and Jonesy were getting the most scrutiny.
“What do they say, Daniel?” Bracus asked.
“I am not entirely certain, I think they're bickering amongst themselves.” Daniel shrugged.
“They be infantile then?” Edwin asked without rancor.
Maddoc nodded and Evie said, “Are they nary our years?”
“It appears as such, yet they act as if they are but ten years.”
“Hey!” Jonesy said, forgetting his promise to shut his trap. “I think I'm getting that!”
“They're saying we're babies or something,” Tiff said, insulted.
John lifted his palm. “Shut up, all of you.”
John turned to Clara, taking a deep breath. He let it out slowly then began, thinking that his medieval speech course was too ancient for their speech. He went for it anyway. “We come in peace this day. To offer a solution that may rectify the degradation of your sphere, restore it wholly and halt the further progression of the salt compromise.”
He looked expectantly at the Queen of Ohio and she turned that radiant smile on him, the strobe of it hitting John between the eyes. He thought he might be in love.
That was until Tiff snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Shake it off, Terran.”
Right, John thought and Caleb smirked while Matthew frowned. John flicked his eyes to the huge man, weapons hanging off him head to toe.
Clara answered, “That would be most helpful, Traveler.” Then she hesitated, “There be another pair of Travelers who... took a piece of my flesh, we do not know why...”
Sophie gasped, forgetting caution and rushed to Clara. She grabbed the forearm that Clara had offered for examination and turned it over, a star-shaped scar lay there and Sophie ran a finger over it. She slowly looked at Clara, who openly stared at Sophie's unusual coloring and manner.
“What is it Soph?” Jonesy asked.
“She has the same scar that creeper did!”
“Which creeper?” Caleb asked. Hell, there were too many for him to keep track of.
“The AP attacker.”
Of course! Caleb thought.
“That would mean he was from here,” John said.
“Yeah, he was a helluva lot more than AP.”
John turned to Clara, her arm still within the hold of Sophie's hand, the polished ivory of it directly contrasting with the light coffee of Sophie's skin and asked, “What do you name the group who wander about?” John asked, throwing his palm out to encompass the greater Outside.
“The fragment,” Daniel said in a flat voice, Calia wandering to stand beside him, leaning against Philip for support.
John got excited, punching his fist into his open palm and the Band tensed. He tried to rein it in with effort. “Okay, so these fragment guys, some are criminals from our world. What's to say when the Graysheets need a disposable assassin they don't just use one of those dudes, they bite the big one in our world, then they remain unidentified forever?” He threw his hands up like... duh.
Caleb looked at the beat up warrior princess. She had gills too.
Surreal.
Sophie dropped Clara's arm and smiled at her.
“John, tell her what the plan is,” Caleb said.
John smiled nervously, his lips pulling away from his teeth in the parody of a grimace. Caleb narrowed his eyes on his best friend. “You do have a plan, wise ass?”
John said, “It's more of a theory.”
“Well get hot, the natives are restless,” Caleb said, using another Gramps-ism.
John nodded. “Right.” He turned to Jonesy. “You ready?”
“Hell yeah, Terran! Bring it!” Jonesy exclaimed, his dark face lighting up with typical enthusiasm.
“Wait!” Clara said with a ringing command. John turned toward her and she phrased her next request carefully, years of royal diplomacy coming to her aid, “Be most careful, young Traveler. For it is the only home my people have ever known.”
John swallowed. Damn, no pressure.
He turned to Jonesy. “Come on Jones.”
“Yes, sir,” he said, cocking his hand in a mock-salute.
John, Jonesy and Caleb walked a short ways along the perimeter of the sphere, noting the door Archer had unlocked and Alex had opened.
“Wow, look at the degradation just since we've been here last,” John said, pushing against the sphere side, his handprint as he pulled away filling in again.
&nbs
p; “How long would it have been before it was...” Alex asked, walking up behind them, keeping one eye on the dudes with gills.
“Gone?” John filled in.
When Alex nodded John said, “Maybe a month. That's how long a pulse-cycle would've taken, so I'm guessing that.”
“Is it beyond repair?” Caleb asked, eyeing up the one meter wide holes peppering the surface.
John shrugged. “All we can do is attempt a fix.”
“Alex?” John called.
“Yes?”
“You have the salt?”
He nodded, taking a bag made of leather. They hadn't known what would travel. The last time, the chicks' jewelry had all been lost wherever.
Caleb hadn't wanted to dwell too much on where that'd gone off to.
Troubling thought process, that.
Alex reached inside the bag and everything suddenly happened at once.
Clara screamed in a startled voice, “Matthew, they possess salt!”
And then the big dude with eyes so blue they didn't look real, had his hand wrapped on Alex's wrist.
Caleb could feel violence contained, the very air trembled with it. Jade grabbed onto the back of his hoodie, feeling the tension in the atmosphere, her Empath skills triggered and on full alert.
Matthew's face showed instant surprise, as did Alex's. He tried to wrench his arm free and Matthew grunted in restraint.
“Holy shit, they're as strong as Alex!” Jonesy said.
Totally not the larger point, Caleb thought. Like, hoping they didn't get their asses kicked would be the primary objective.
Matthew turned to the others of the Band, “He is Band.”
Alex let his hand drop, “What?”
Daniel's brows rose to his hairline. “You feel kinship recognition?”
“Aye,” Matthew nodded, studying Alex. Finally after much scrutiny he grinned. It was so shocking on his stern face the group all responded with instant smiles.
“What's Band?” Alex asked.
“They are the enforcers,” Daniel replied in explantation.
“Of what?” Jade asked from behind Caleb.
Daniel gave her a curious look. “The protection of females... and everything else.”
“Why the girls?” Sophie asked and John rolled his eyes. Caleb was certain he wanted to get the sphere nailed then be on their way. Each moment they spent here supposedly made it worse for the people here.
Daniel looked at her curiously. “There are very few.”
John got curious despite his rush. “What is the ratio?”
Daniel frowned. John thought of another way to phrase it. “What be the count of males as compared to females?”
Daniel had been raised fragment and they dealt very much in numbers. Thievery and trading wares made their prowess for math legendary. Daniel phrased his answer so his group would also understand, “There be fifteen males for every one that is female.”
The girls sucked in their breath.
Caleb frowned, no wonder it was so messed up here.
John explained, “We must use the salt which began the ruination of your sphere and combine it with the advances of my world to halt its destruction.”
Clara understood. “I do apologize... however, I surmised you may be...”
John held up his palm. “It is fine. I do understand the trepidation over the same ingredient being used for repair that was the cause of the sphere's demise.”
“You go, Terran!” Jonesy fist-pumped and John blushed a fine, clear red.
“Can it, dumbass,” Tiff said. “He's gettin' his mojo on.” She gave a big grin to John and he smiled back.
Clara nodded as the Band studied Alex, who returned their stares with curiosity.
John grabbed the salt, and sprinkled a large portion over roughly a half meter squared area. Jonesy stepped forward and John nodded. Before Jonesy put his palm on the patch of salt that lay hissing where it made contact with the sphere wall, John said, “Don't be stupid, Jonesy. This matters.”
“Yeah, yeah, Terran, keep your boxers on. I got this.”
And with that, Jonesy lay his palm on the sizzling area. Instantly the spot began to glow and Jonesy straightened where he stood, his face going from his typical nonchalant expression to a shrieking intensity. The Band clustered around, watching the boy with skin so brown it was almost black, prove out a different kind of magic entirely.
Clara watched as light, like the bolts of lightning she had watched as a child from the safety of her chamber inside the sphere, wound their way like wily snakes, branching away from his dark hand. They formed a grid-like pattern that carried them like tethers of perfect, symmetric brilliance to the offending holes, closing them in as poured water in a cup as she watched. They throbbed and contracted, the light pouring into the holes, which were once dim, now became solidly opaque, gradually deepening.
After minutes that became long enough so twilight stole around them, the boy lifted his hand off the sphere wall. He turned to Clara and smiled, she gasped at how white his teeth were in the impending gloom.
“You can tell me,” Jonesy said.
Tiff rolled her eyes but Caleb said it, “You're the greatest, Jones.”
“Yeah, I got that,” Jonesy said, but his face was tired and his body looked strained and wrung out.
It's not every day that you light up a whole world.
They looked at the sphere, lit with a soft glow, whole again, the scars from the salt punishment pinkish, but already moving toward the original milky incandescence of the sections that weren't compromised.
The teens were all grinning at the remarkable structure, the young Travelers for different reasons than the people of Clara's world.
Jonesy said, “It can't be all bad... our abilities.”
Caleb thought about it. “Yeah, but the reason behind them sucked.”
John nodded.
Clara looked at the young Travelers. “We find we cannot enter the sphere, the door is...” she trailed off.
Lewis Archer smiled. He'd done his Lock-Manipulator job a little too well. He put his hand on his chest, puffing up and replied, “Allow me.”
He strode gracefully to the huge portal while the whole group muttered and Archer jumped up, slapping the locks on the top then repeated it, swinging low to nail the dual locks at the bottom. Everyone heard the locks tumble together and snap to the unlocked position.
Charles spoke for the first time. “Do they all possess magic?”
“I don't!” Bry said, raising his hand. The Band swung their heads to look at him and he dropped his hand. They walked over to the massive doors and with one Band member on each side they heaved it to the right, rolling it smoothly on its integral runners.
It slid open and the light of the sphere tunnel poured into the Outside, illuminating the murkiness where they stood, the grave markers standing like stout guideposts of death in the background.
“Shit!” Archer yelled.
Hearing his alarm, the Band readied their weapons. The Js and Caleb ran up behind him as the Zondorae brothers fell out of the Pathway with a practiced drop and hop.
What really got Caleb excited were the black tranquilizer guns that stood at attention in their hands. Pulse-activated, of course.
Looked like crap was gonna go down.
Yes, indeedy.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Catalyst
They felt it hanging in the air like a tremendous weight. The need to regulate the pressure in their ears felt enormous. Gary and Joe Zondorae felt the hair lift off their foreheads in the light breeze coming in from Outside, clammy with the sweat that remained from their travel through the Pathway and the sauna-like interior of the sphere.
Joe felt Gary nail him with the needle. It punctured the flesh of his upper arm, introducing the chemicals necessary to counter the sickness. They did not have Band genetics to negate the affects of travel through what was essentially an artificial wormhole. Fueled by Pulse Technology, it would wo
rk indefinitely. It had certainly worked for their purposes.
Until now.
That fucking Parker had set his pet project loose on an alternate world. A parallel dimension, set to be destroyed by asteroids over a hundred years ago. Didn't Parker realize the greater importance? These few people didn't matter in the bigger scheme of things.
Essentially it was their petri dish. And Parker had taken a big piss into the middle of it.
These people were needed to make a new race of humanity in their own world. A world of the future, impervious to disease, stronger, smarter... more unique. Eventually, if they continued to tweak the genetic code they could reach their ultimate goal.
Immortality.
Joe looked at the brat Corpse-Manipulator with anger. That was the one ability that Joe and Gary had universally agreed upon as essential to eliminate.
Affinity for the Dead.
It was too much power for anyone to have.
They had their orders, shoot everyone that breathed, re-salt the sphere... leave with more samples. And, most importantly, leave the sphere to disintegrate like it should have, the peoples mingling for true genetic diversity.
Their goal firmly set, Joe pointed his gun at the first huge male that came toward him and fired, a grim smile of determination set on his face like stone.
*
“Jonesy!” Caleb screamed when he saw one of the Zondorae brothers raise his gun at the guy that was with Clara.
“It's pulse, Jones!” John bellowed into the suddenly still air.
Jonesy turned his head and touched the sphere, his hands biting into the wall. A surge of light bloomed underneath his palm and jumped to the floor, running underneath their collective feet where it threaded up to where Joe Zondorae held the gun.
It jammed and he dropped it, zapped and smoldering with the electromagnetic surge executed by the Jonester.
“Hell!” he yelled, looking at his brother for assistance.
Gary Zondorae didn't hesitate but nailed everyone within two meters, making the tranquilizer gun work for him, the darts were small, filling the chamber like a standard nine millimeter. Gary liked to think he was just animal enough to keep a round in the chamber.
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