Flight of the Gryphon

by Ann Durand

  You can't come with me. You and Katera would meet yourselves in the past and that would create a new universe. Sorry, that just won't do. If I return with you and Katera to the time after Askins is killed and Parallon is free, I will only find the remains of my Greg. So, I will go back earlier, and I will find my Greg alive.

  I am deeply sorry, but you do have the knowledge to build another stargate. I trust you'll find a way.

  Felipa

  Mike crumpled the note in his hand.

  No, Felipa. I cannot build another stargate. It's impossible without the funds. You were the richest woman in the world, and it took nearly every penny you had to build this one. Tescali Lab is no more, and there will not be another lab designed to explore time travel for many generations. You have effectively grounded Katera and me in this day and age, probably for the rest of our lives .

  Afraid to turn around, Mike stood helplessly, his back rigid, his shoulders hunched up. He heard Katera shuffling behind him. How? How could he break the news? Oh, God.

  "Mikolen?" Katera called, softly. "What's the matter?"

  Mike turned around. When he faced her, he could do little more than shake his head. A huge, paralyzing lump had stolen into his throat. Katera stared, then fell to her knees, her eyes and mouth wide open in disbelief. She drew her hands to her mouth, sat on her heels, leaned forward, and wept.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Felipa pulled the locking bar over her chair and waited. At first, nothing happened. She almost got up to check the control panel when she noticed through the opening above that the KQES ceiling was fading into a soft organic, fleshy-looking surface. With a jolt, Gryphon lifted, turned, and charged down a tunnel filled with the organic stuff, now a pinkish blur as Gryphon accelerated. She felt dizzy and closed her eyes. A wave of nausea rose from her stomach. Gryphon jerked from side to side and front to back as she struggled to keep the nausea down. She squeezed her eyes shut and gripped the bar. Minutes later, all movement ceased.

  Felipa opened her eyes. Above her, she spied a ceiling different from the one she had left. This one looked like the ceiling of Tescali Lab. Yes! She'd made it. She was 6,000 years in the past.

  As she lifted the bar over her lap, somewhere off in another room a large explosion rocked the building. She fell, stumbling back into the chair. Yes, this was the place, all right. That must be the obliteration of Star Gate One. Remembering that Greg had been injured in that blast, she hopped out of the chair, energized. She sneaked to the door and waited, wary of meeting Mike. She needed to give him time to run outside so they wouldn't meet. Mike would lure Askins outside, too, which would give her the opportunity to look for Greg without danger of getting caught. In another few minutes, it should be safe for her to venture out.

  Desperate shouts and screams punctured the air. Shivers rattled her spine as she realized Askins was murdering the Tescali scientists. The silent and sleek Beamer with its deadly red laser did not describe the human wreckage that undoubtedly was filling the lab. Another shout, a crash, and then footsteps running past the door toward the outside. Mike? It had to be him. He was the only one that got away from Askins after hiding Gred in the closet. She waited breathlessly until she heard a second set of footsteps barreling down the hall after the first. That would be Askins in hot pursuit. In the next minute, all became quiet again.

  Felipa opened the door and stuck her head out, peering in both directions. Clear. A strength that she hadn't felt in weeks seeped into her muscles, into the very fiber of her bones, and she bolted toward the large room that had housed Silver Gate and contained the supply closet where Greg lay injured. As she hustled down the hallway, she heard cries for help behind a locked door. She paused outside. Who? Oh, yes, the technicians. That must be where Askins had imprisoned them before forcing each to accept a VisiOrbj.

  She moved her hand to the lock. If she freed them, they might overpower Askins, which would change history…no, no. That might cause a time warp, and she didn't want that. This universe had a destiny no matter what she did, and she was sticking with it. Quietly, she lifted her hand and stole the rest of the way down the hall. It led to a large room.

  She stepped inside and slapped a hand over her mouth and nose. There were body parts scattered everywhere. Limbs, a disembodied head, and pieces of bloodied tissue were all over the room…on furniture, tables, shelves, even the walls. Then she spied large shards of metlon, the material used to build the stargate, embedded in the walls, the floor and ceiling. Silver Gate debris-yep, this was the room.

  Frantically, she ran the length of the long wall looking for a door. There. There was one. She raced to it and pressed the icon to open it. It slid into a slot in the wall to reveal a supply of ullis, lanadiks, and other equipment stacked up on both sides in boxes with a narrow aisle down the middle. Wrong supply closet. She whirled around and scanned the periphery of the room. There had to be another door. As her heart pounded in her ears, a rush of pain stabbed her in the side, and she grabbed it with both hands, leaning over, pressing her fingers into it.

  I'm dying…I may die before I find Greg .

  Breathing deeply, she forced her head up, forced herself to continue searching-she had to find the other door. She spied a trail of blood on the floor and caught her breath. It was not splattered blood. It was a liquid red trail with footprints in it, and it led to-she followed the path with her eyes-a large chair against the wall…and a door. There was a door behind the chair. Of course, Mike would try to conceal the door where he'd hidden his friend.

  In wild haste, she stumbled toward the chair, shoved it aside, and punched the icon to open the door. At first, she couldn't see into the dark. And then, a voice…oh. A voice that sent her heart into a flip-flop. A voice so pure, musical. His voice. He was here.

  "Felipa? Is that you?"

  "Greg! Oh, Greg."

  "Oh, my God, Felipa. What are you doing here?"

  Felipa pressed the icon to shut the door behind her and fumbled for the compact lanadik that she'd slipped into her pocket. She pulled it out and turned it on. A dim light filled the closet. Greg, crumpled into a corner, tried to sit up. His right thigh was a pulpy mess, and a sticky layer of blood covered the floor. Felipa glanced at his leg again. The blood was pulsing out from the wound in his leg. She rushed to him, knelt beside him. In another pocket, she drew out a RestorTech, the instrument used to restore damaged tissue. As she activated the icon, Greg grabbed the instrument.

  "The wound is too big." His breathing was choppy, shallow.

  "It can't make it worse, Greg. Let me try."

  He threw up a hand in resignation, handed the RestorTech back to her with the other, and leaned against the wall. Concentrating on the wound, Felipa passed the activated instrument back and forth over the length of it. She watched in dismay as his tissue jiggled and vibrated, but it did not reconnect. The wound did not close.

  "Felipa," he said, quietly. "Why did you come down to the lab today? You never come to the lab. Why today of all days?"

  Felipa passed the RestorTech over the severed artery, hoping to at least stop the bleeding. The artery tightened like a wrinkled prune and sealed shut. Satisfied that she could do no more, she pocketed the Restortech and looked into Greg's face closely for the first time. When their eyes connected, he threw his head back with a sharp intake of breath.

  "My God. What happened to you? You look…ill."

  "Greg." Felipa scooted next to him, stretching her legs alongside his. "Greg," she said again, her voice a whisper. "I didn't come to the lab today. I mean, it's today for you, but not for me. For me, it's seven and a half months later." She paused, realizing they had precious little time together. She decided to lay out the rest, bluntly. "And I have cancer."

  Greg dropped his jaw in amazement. She waited for the shock to settle, for him to absorb the full extent of what she was telling him.

  "Seven months later? Cancer ?" Those two tidbits would offer him enough information to piece it together with a litt
le help. It would be best if he figured it out himself. "Then you came here in another time machine…but how?"

  "Mike Leno built a new one. I arrived in it a few minutes ago."

  "Mike? But that's impossible. Mike is with me here in the lab…he just pulled me into this closet. How could he have built another time machine for you if he's here in…wherever we are?"

  "In Parallon. You're six thousand years in the past."

  "Ah. So Askins returned to his former stomping grounds. But how did Mike get back to the future? I saw Askins destroy Star Gate One. That's how I got injured, when it blew up. There isn't a time machine for Mike to get home with."

  "He built another one."

  "What? Another stargate? Here? In the past?"

  "Yes. He stole the materials he needed from the lab. It took him ten years, but he built another one in a cave. He called it Silver Gate. And he met a woman from Parallon before he left for the future. He brought her with him. Tescali wouldn't let him return to Parallon with her, and they dismantled his Silver Gate. That's when I approached him with the offer to finance the building of a new one."

  Greg sat silent, soaking it up. Then he touched Felipa's face, and said, "Cancer, my love?"

  Felipa pressed her hand over his. "I didn't see a doctor when the symptoms started. By the time I was diagnosed, it was too late. I thought the pain I'd been feeling was from my grief."

  "Grief? Why? What happened?" Felipa shook her head, unable to tell him. "Ah," he said, tossing his chin up. His eyes glowed with a soft, inner light. "I see." He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. "I don't make it, do I?" Felipa shook her head, squeezed her eyes shut. "So, you returned to say good-bye?"

  Felipa nodded and burst into tears. "Greg, I missed you so much. I asked Mike to build the stargate so he could return to Parallon with the Parallon woman, but then…I took it…I stole it before they had a chance to leave. I'm so sorry, but I had to see you again." She leaned into him as the tears poured freely. He lifted his arm over her shoulders and pulled her close, rubbing her shoulder with his hand. When she looked back up, her eyes felt puffy. "This is worth every dime I spent on the stargate, just to see you now."

  "I'm glad you came," he said, his voice low and even. "Though you shouldn't have misled Mike, especially after all his hard work. But you're here." He kissed the top of her head. "And it's great to see you after seven long months, though I could swear it was just this morning..."

  Felipa smiled with relief. She couldn't have hoped for a better reception. Oh, if only it could last and last and last. But Greg was no longer looking at her. Already his eyes had focused on a distant spot. That's my Greg , she thought, always thinking .

  "Felipa," he breathed, as if his strength were fading. Felipa leaned forward. "Tell me what happens…to you and me. Does Mike come back? How much time do we have?"

  "He doesn't make it back in time. Already Askins has chased him outside and will fire a Beamer at him, but Mike escapes, of course."

  "That's good, but you're avoiding my question."

  Felipa lowered her head. "We don't make it out of this closet. And I don't know how much time we have." She met his eyes. "Mike does return, but he's too late. He finds…"

  Unable to finish, she turned away.

  "He finds the pieces, does he? That's alright. Look at me." Felipa looked back at him, biting her lip to keep from crying. "You came back to be with me…to die with me. You wanted to say good-bye." Felipa nodded. "Then, my dearest dove, let us say good-bye to each other."

  Dearest dove? At the mention of his pet name for her, Felipa erupted into tears again. She did not want to lose this moment.

  "What is this?" he said, dabbing at a tear with his thumb. "Don't cry. No more crying."

  "When you call me that…"

  "Dearest dove?"

  Felipa choked back a sob. "Yes. I feel so complete inside when I hear it from you. And it reminds me of a poem, too. The one written by that poetess from two hundred years ago…what's her name? She wrote about those two love birds."

  "Oh, Marta Jimenez?"

  "She's the one. The poem is called "Soul Mates." Do you remember it?"

  Greg turned his head, concentrating, and then looked back at her, tucking his chin. Sweetly, musically, he recited the first stanza.

  "A single shot rips the silent sky and

  Two birds tumble arrested from flight

  Onto sandy beach and wave-licked shore

  To lay bleeding in the fading light"

  Replicating his unhurried rhythm, Felipa picked up the next few stanzas.

  "The female stumbles with trailing wing

  Painting broad strokes in the sand

  Meets him by his side and settles there

  Good wing stretched and softly fanned

  O'er his broken body shattered shape

  She shrieks into his open beak

  His eyes shoot open, pained yet clear

  He strains and offers failing squeak

  Before his eyes fall in forced retreat

  She calls to him throughout the night

  Until spent from unrelenting grief

  She lay down her head in early light."

  Greg lifted a finger to her lips, locked into her eyes, and finished the poem, speaking very slowly.

  "And waits to meet her final sleep

  To join her mate again and soar,

  Under colored skies in other worlds

  In tandem flight on distant shore."

  For the first time in weeks, Felipa's body felt light, as if she'd been lifted with the clouds by a warm breeze, and was blowing over distant fields.

  "Greg…"

  "I love you, too," he whispered, and leaned into her, offering his lips.

  Felipa took them, kissed him deeply, wrapped her arms around his neck. Warm rays radiated through her body, and in that moment, she felt completely well. She heard heavy footsteps on the other side of the door. She kept her lips sealed to Greg's, drinking in his essence. She did not look up when someone opened the door. She did not see the arm raise, the Beamer trained; nor did she feel the laser when it hit.

  * * *

  Already under Askins' spell with a new VisiOrb planted in his forehead, the former technician and future Kastak of Parallon, Tim Tonnelly, set about disposing the human remains in the supply closet. He scooped them up with a large shovel into a portable disposable unit. He wondered about the woman-who she was. Obviously someone who cared about the scientist. That was some kiss. She didn't even look up when he'd opened the door. She was probably the scientist's girlfriend…what was his name, anyway? Oh, yeah. That famous one: Kurtz. Well, too bad for the woman, whoever she was. She'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Askins' orders were to kill everyone, and Askins was the boss now.

  Tonnelly fingered the spot on his forehead above his brow. His head still echoed with the memory of a screeching voice engineered from Askins' command center. The noise had ricocheted inside his skull like sharpened nails. Sickened by the mess before him, he turned to leave before he'd inspected the entire closet, missing the human fragments plastered in the corner in the back, including the recognizable half-face that would greet Mike when he returned to rescue his friend.

  Tonnelly closed the door, and with a big sigh, wheeled the disposable unit out of the room, down the hallway and through the exit into the new world, wherever the hell it was. He shoved the unit up a ridge and upturned it so the contents slid into a natural ditch. Turning away, he wheeled the unit around, now light and empty. Grimly, he headed back down the ridge toward the lab and the large room where most of the scientists had been murdered. He'd begin again, mopping up tissue and fragments until the mess was gone, as Askins had ordered.

  * * *

  The Tescali technician, Patrick O'Malley, lifted his head from a trunk in the back of a room in the lab where he'd been hiding. He edged toward the door, opened it and glanced around. Nobody in sight. He moved swiftly down the hall, racing for an exit. So far
he'd escaped detection from Askins and his cursed Beamer, and no one knew he was in the lab, so if could just manage to…

  Startled by a noise, he ducked into the first room on his left and shut the door behind him. Maybe he could hide again, wait for darkness, then slip out, but slip out to where? Where had that madman transported the lab? He'd be lost in unfamiliar terrain as soon as he stepped outside, but did he have a choice? He spun around to search for a hiding place, and gasped.

  How could it be? He'd just seen Star Gate One destroyed…only fifteen minutes ago, but there it was again…impossible. No matter, an escape route. He must hurry.

  Rushing through the stargate entrance, he pulled up in front of the control panel and stared at it. Man, he wished he'd paid attention in those orientation classes. He could sure use that info now. Well, it couldn't be that difficult. There, the icon labeled TimeSet. He fiddled with the dates, fumbled, and keyed in the wrong date. Before he could reenter the correct one, he heard another loud noise in the hallway.

  Good God, someone's coming . Okay, good enough. He jammed his thumb on top of the GO icon on the control panel and prayed for a quick connection.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Two Months Later

  He suffers because I suffer, Katera thought with a pang of guilt, and he goes to such trouble to please me. Like today, a trip to the home of the Goddess Lupana. What a treat! Mikolen had worked hard to secure permission from the World Union Council for this visit. Only twenty-five civilians a year were permitted to land on the moon's surface. Though she'd seen the Goddess up close while circling in an AeroCar-closer than any Parallonian could ever hope to see it-to actually set foot on that sacred ground! She had Mikolen to thank for this trip.