by C. A. Pack
Juveniles searched everywhere but couldn’t find Peer Meap anywhere. They met back in the wreck-wroom.
“What should we do now?” Marbol asked.
Duddu took a step back. “How should I know?”
“You’re supposed to be our leader. Think of something.”
“I would ask Peer Meap what to do at a time like this, but there is no Peer Meap to ask.”
“What about those old men in the long robes?”
Duddu shook his head. “They’re Peer Meap’s friends. I don’t think they live around here. The only time I’ve ever seen them is with Peer Meap.”
“Maybe they live in the library.”
“I thought you checked the library. You told me there was nobody there.”
“Nobody but dead monsters.”
Duddu scratched his head with both hands. “I wonder if his secret book is there?”
“He has a secret book? What’s in it?”
“I don’t know. I saw it laying around on the desk, and when I opened the cover, he snatched it away from me and told me not to touch it.”
“Did he say why?”
“Something about it being connected to one of those old guys.”
Marbol picked up a dart and hurled it at a target drawn on the wall. “Maybe we should look for it. Who knows. Peer Meap may show up to yell at us if we open it.”
“That’s a plan!”
Nero 51 opened his eyes slowly. Shelves filled with manuscripts filled his field of vision. He pushed himself into an upright position. A noise sounded behind him. He shifted, as if attacked.
“It’s about time. We’ve been in this god-forsaken library for more than an hour and there’s no way to exit it. It’s just like the one on your world. This has ‘overseer’ written all over it.”
“Where are we?” the curator asked.
“Mysteriose. My home. Humph. I lived here for a short while a very long time ago. I’d tell you how it’s changed, but I haven’t been able to exit the library, so I don’t know if it’s changed at all. Anyway, this is what I need you to do.” He outlined the same steps they took to exit the Terrorian library and told Nero 51 to concentrate on a glade far west of the library. “I wouldn’t want to run into anyone unexpectedly.”
Nero 51 reached for the crystals that controlled the time machine. He usually carried them in his pocket, but they weren’t there. “The stones are gone.”
“So, look around. You probably dropped them when you were thrown off-balance.”
The inside of the time machine was empty, however Odyon spotted one stone right outside the vehicle. He handed it to the curator. “I’ve done my part. It’s up to you to find the other stone.”
“It’s not here,” Nero 51 grumbled.
“Then I suggest you look harder.”
The grandfather clock at the Fantasian Library of Illumination chimed the one o’clock hour. Johanna rushed down to the circulation desk to await Cameron Thorne’s arrival. The library looked perfect, thanks in no small part to Cinderella’s fairy godmother, whom Johanna had summoned by opening Cendrillon, Charles Perrault’s French version of the fairy tale.
The heavenly smell coming from the upstairs apartment was a simple roasted chicken with a crispy brown skin, compliments of chef Caesar Cardini, who also whipped up his signature Caesar salad under duress, because Johanna wanted it ready ahead of time. Cardini insisted it had to be prepared at the table moments before it was to be served. However, Johanna did not want Cardini waiting on them and threatened to used bottled Caesar salad dressing, causing the chef to throw an apoplectic fit before fulfilling her request.
When he completed the salad, Johanna closed the book in which the history of the Caesar Salad had been recorded. She didn’t need him popping back in to check on the meal.
Cameron arrived right on time. Johanna had propped the front door open so he wouldn’t have any trouble entering the library. He took two steps inside and stopped. He eyes swept the room, taking in the tall shelves, the gleaming displays, and the rich artifacts acquired by the Library of Illumination over the centuries. “This is phenomenal.”
Johanna released the front door, which whooshed shut, and linked her arm in his. “Would you like a tour?”
“Yes!”
She showed him around the main floor, and they ascended to the residence level.
Cameron sniffed the air. “It smells really good up here.”
Johanna laughed. “Roasted chicken and Caesar salad. It’s ready if you’re hungry.”
“Will you continue the tour after lunch?”
“Of course.”
“Then I’m all for a bite to eat.”
The militairres initially reacted to the announcement of a three-day survival mission with excitement. But their smiles turned to looks of distress when they learned it would commence immediately.
“I have plans,” one of them whined.
“My family won’t know where I am,” another lamented.
“Who is going to teach us to hunt?” a third asked.
Arraba stepped forward. “You are all learning the four disciplines. As archers, you can naturally use bows and arrows. As stick fighters, you can use a blade to sharpen a point on the edge of your stick and spear fish. Grapplers may stalk larger game, like pallid. Those of you who specialize in weaponry will be called upon to sharpen other skills. We will not be required to use decimators during this mission.”
Natalia placed a hand on Arraba’s shoulder and addressed the group. “You won’t all be tasked with catching our dinner. Some of you will be expected to build lean-to shelters and fire pits for everyone. Others must look for fruit and vegetation that is safe to eat. And we need everyone to collect any plants they find that have medicinal properties, so we can create a medical supply of natural remedies.”
And so, the afternoon began, with one girl from each platoon designated to return to Roma and inform the citizens that the militairres were on special assignment and would not be returning home for several days.
The hunters, fishers, and foragers set out in search of food while the remaining militairres cleared brush, lashed together narrow stalks to use for lean-tos, and gathered kindling and stones for the fire pits. Some militairres grumbled about their assignments, but most took their work in stride.
The day resulted in minor injuries and rashes from crawling after game in patches of poisonous plants, plus the inevitable insect bites, but many of the militairres brought back medicinal herbs, and a couple of women—who were already trained herbalists—made poultices and salves and attended to everyone’s medical needs.
Skinning small animals made some of the girls squeamish, and they were reluctant to eat what they captured, even after being told it was the only food available to them.
Several militairres complained about petty thievery after someone broke into their backpacks and removed sweets and brichi. They were later chastised by the platoon leaders who had removed their snacks. They would be forced to survive on their own without the benefit of secret stashes.
Natalia and the Jolen sisters agreed that three nights was not sufficient time to hone the militairres’ survival skills, but they had to start somewhere. Even as the girls recovered from their first afternoon in the woods, their commanders were already making plans for a second, longer, more comprehensive mission farther away from home.
One young militairre approached Natalia and the Jolens and asked, “Are we expected to sleep on the ground? Without blankets?”
Felicia, not knowing how to answer, looked at the others and shrugged. “We’ll get back to you,” Arraba said.
“We may have jumped into this mission a little too hastily,” Natalia said. “However, we could never foresee this problem without actually encountering it. We need some type of bedrolls for the girls that they can easily carry across their backs.”
“It will have to be light and serve as both mattress and blanket.”
“Gracyn’s mother is a wool shearer
and weaver,” Felicia said. “Perhaps she can make us something?”
Arraba shook her head. “Not by tonight.”
PT:★ What do you need by tonight?
Startled, all four platoon leaders turned to face Pru Tellerence and Horatio Blastoe.
“We are on our first outdoor, overnight mission to hone our survival skills,” Natalia answered. “However, we didn’t plan on needing blankets or mattresses.”
Pru Tellerence nodded as she telepathically broadcast their request to the other overseers.
Natalia sighed. “Should we call it off?”
PT:★ No. If necessary, the militairres will have to collect some hay or leaves to sleep on.
Felicia closed her eyes tightly and made a face. “Insects.”
HB:✠ You must learn to rely on nature when everything else is taken away from you. Even if it means dealing with things that make your skin crawl.
Milencia turned away from the group. “I will have some militairres collect leaves to place under the lean-tos.”
HB:✠ Very good.
PT:★ Now you’re thinking like a survivor. If I may, I’d like to return later to see how you’re doing.
Natalia smiled. “We look forward to seeing you—” She was interrupted by a high-pitched scream that came from the woods.
—LOI—
28
Furst knocked on Pondor’s door. A woman who cooked for the judge told Furst that Pondor had gone out for the evening. Furst sighed. He would be forced to wait until the next morning to offer his support.
He spent a restless night. He didn’t particularly like Dungen and was glad he had been jailed. But he wanted Pondor to know he felt badly about what happened.
When he went back to see the judge the following morning, he was surprised by his attitude.
“I lost my son, it is not like. Breathing a sigh of relief, many people are. Like his mother, Dungen is. To think clearly, he is unable. A sickness, it is.”
“Sorry, I am,” Furst said. He wanted to say something nice about Dungen, but there was nothing nice to say.
Pondor sensed Furst’s dilemma. “As an infant, he was a joy.”
Furst nodded.
Pondor’s eyes twinkled. “Past that, not much.”
Furst’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.
“All right, it is, Furst. What was happening, I knew. Remember him as he was, I will. As he is now, I will not.”
Furst still felt uncomfortable. “Return to the library, I must.”
Pondor walked him to the door. “For coming, thank you.”
“Yes,” Furst nodded, as he scurried away.
Jackson did a quick inspection of the cabin at The Dunes before laying out the food, napkins, and plastic utensils. “I’m done here. Is that going to take you long?”
Logan pushed the tap on the kegerator and watched beer spill into the plastic cup he held under the spigot. “Nope. I’m done, too.” He chugged the beer and made a face. “Warm….”
“I thought the whole purpose of that thing is to keep the beer cold?”
“It is. I guess it needs time to cool it down.”
“Fine. So we’re done here. Can you drop me off at the library? I haven’t done any work today, and considering I won’t be there tonight or tomorrow, I need to log in a few hours.”
“You don’t have much time. The limo is picking me up at 6:30, and will probably get to the library by 6:45 so we can pick up the girls by 7:00.”
“What about the others?”
“They’ve got their own limo. We’re only sharing the cabin and the food.”
Jackson looked at his watch. “That’s cutting things close. How about you pick up the girls and then come get me at the library?”
“Emily is going to want pictures of the two of you at her house, all dressed up.”
“You’re killing me.”
“Okay. I’ll tell her you had to work this afternoon. Your mom can take pictures of the four of us at the library and share them with her parents.”
Jackson groaned. “I don’t want Johanna and Emily to…uh ….”
“So what do you want to do?”
“Call me on your way over, and I’ll wait for you out front. Then you can snap a few pictures on your phone in front of the library and we’ll leave. And you can share them with Emily’s parents.”
“Now you’re killing me.”
The first Mysterian robbery report was made that afternoon. A priestess, who said she had just withdrawn all her assets, claimed she had been robbed of everything—herbs, minerals and gold. Drace the Elder convened an immediate hearing to gather evidence and determine if an emergency payment should be made to the young priestess so she could barter for the resources she would need to administer to her followers.
Hue the Elder and Mal were interrupted in the middle of their meal and hurried to the Town Hall. The hearing would be held in one of the smaller, more private discussion pits toward the rear of the building.
After they arrived, Mal realized he left his robe and chaperon behind.
“I would not worry about it, Malcolm. I doubt anyone will notice.” Hue paused. “I will be right back. I need to speak with Val Dvir.”
Mal watched as the priestess answered a series of questions about the different resources she had been carrying and why she’d needed to withdraw them all at once.
“What does it matter why I withdrew them?” she asked impatiently.
Drace sighed. “Can you describe the thief?”
She tapped her right cheek with her forefinger as she slowly gazed around the room. “He’s here,” she shouted.
Drace’s head jerked up. “Where?”
“Right over there,” she said, pointing directly at Mal.
Marbol and Duddu began their search for Peer Meap’s “secret book” in the curator’s residence. They opened drawers and looked inside appliances, but found nothing. They searched under seat cushions and on top of shelves but still came up empty. In the bedroom, they poked through clothing in the closet and looked through all the curator’s pockets.
“It’s not here,” Marbol said, flinging himself on the bed. “Hey. This is pretty comfortable.”
“You’d better get up from there before Peer Meap finds you.”
“I want him to find me.” Marbol stood on the bed and started jumping up and down. “Peer Meap. Peer Meap. Peer Meap. Come out, come out, wherever you are.” As he jumped, a pillow slipped off the bed, revealing a book that had been tucked under it.
“Stop,” Duddu shouted.
Marbol looked around, expecting to see the curator. He turned to Duddu. “Why?”
Duddu pointed out the book. “That’s why.”
The Adventurans worked together to distribute the freezers and disburse equal amounts of brain and heart tissue to their various locations. Artemus Rexana provided a dozen more freezer units to help with the crisis.
AR:∑ Is there anything else we can do?
“You have saved us from extinction. Thank you for your help. It is now up to us to make sure we have sufficiently protected our assets.”
The overseer returned to Lumi to commune with his brethren. AR:∑ They seem adamant about not accepting help, at least, not as far as living tissue is concerned.
RS:⌘ It is hard to believe that a civilization that is three-quarters robotic would still be victim to their own pride.
AR:∑ I can understand why they might be afraid of foreign integration. And we only suggested it to ease our own way into their confidences.
RS:⌘ We’ll have to find another way to have Mal infiltrate their society.
Nero 51 became frustrated as his search for the missing time machine crystal remained unsuccessful. He huffed and puffed and threw his tentacles around like a truculent child.
Odyon folded his arms across his chest. “Grumbling won’t help you find the stone.”
“What if the stone flew out of the time machine when we were thrown to one side? What if it’
s out there,” he waved a tentacle, pointing to no place in particular, “somewhere, lost forever?”
Odyon’s features hardened. “Well, I know I can survive on this realm, considering I was born here.” He narrowed his eyes. “I’m not so sure about you.”
In a burst of anger, Nero 51 attempted to pick up the time machine in his tentacles and fling it at the shapeshifter. The vehicle proved too heavy to hurl.
Odyon rushed over. “Again.”
“What?”
“Do what you just did, again.”
Nero 51 tugged at the giant orb, tilting it up, and Odyon—moving with the speed of light—snatched the second crystal out from under it.
“Here,” he handed the crystal to Nero 51. “I’ve done all your work for you.”
Nero 51 stared at the crystal. “It’s fractured.”
The shapeshifter had little patience. “What are you talking about?”
“It is not solid. It has cracks running through it.”
“So what?”
“I don’t know if it will work.”
Odyon sighed. “Well, we’ll certainly never know if it works until we try.”
Nero 51 stepped inside the time machine, saying nothing.
Odyon followed. “Think about the open field far behind the library.”
The curator closed his tentacle around the two stones and thought about the field as Odyon dissolved into a beam of light. Something about the light from the beam reminded Nero 51 of something, but he wasn’t sure what.
Pru Tellerence pulled Horatio Blastoe aside to share her latest idea for the militairres.
He appeared confused. HB:✠ Sleeping bags?
PT:★ If we are all in agreement, I can have one made up and the others replicated. The militairres will adapt more quickly if they can get a good night’s sleep, and that may not happen if they’re sleeping on leaves or hay when they’re not used to it. Let them get acclimated to sleeping outdoors in something they may find more acceptable.