OF CRIMSON INDIGO: TALES OF THE MASTER-BUILDERS

by Grant Fausey

  "You mean our universe?" Travis interrupted. "If you can decipher its mathematical symbols it’s supposed to be able to tell you where the universe begins and ends. It's sort of a marker left over from the first generation: A kind of pointer to where and when our universe separated taking different dimensional paths. I guess it's a monument in a way, a testimonial to the regeneration and the Human Wars."

  "A road map," she said adding to the conversation. Gayla repeated her words like a schoolgirl moving to the head of the class. "It's like a flash light, leading the blind."

  "Yeah," he said, "just like a guiding light." Avenall turned to the pillar running his hand along the edge, pulling away the overgrowth. Kristic took the hint too and helped clear away the vines and brush from the bottom of the pillar, revealing the tips of mathematical symbols.

  "It's another nightmare," said Travis digging at the base. "We must return to the past, but where and when? If only there was a clue."

  "What more of a clue do you want?" asked Gayla. "What clues do they need give you?" Gayla asked. "There has to be a common point to all of this––Something we've all overlooked."

  "All of us except Kellnar," said Kristic considering the obvious as he turned away from the pillar looking back at Gayla and his father. "There has to be something here: A plan within a plan, or an endless cycle to be created from one point in time to another. Something so complex, yet so simple it is precise and endlessly connected."

  "That's hopeless," said Gayla. "Futures within futures?

  “Time lines within time lines?”

  “That's like saying the rebellion is part of the rebellion, or the Industries are a part of the Industries. We're not all the same, not all part of each other, are we?"

  "We may be some part of a cosmic whole..." Travis interrupted. "Kellnar is..."

  "Kellnar is what?" asked Avenall.

  "Part of the others..." answered Kristic. He took Gayla by the arm. "Don't you see?” he asked. “He’s part of the others… there’s a thousand clones. He's a clone. Each of them connected in someway."

  Gayla stared at Kristic, in some strange way she knew what he was trying say. The point he was making was obvious. "It can't be that simple," she said.

  "But it is," directed Kristic. "Someone started this, but why … what’s the point of all this?”

  “They had to program him, become him.

  “They had to replicate him."

  "Yeah, they did," snapped Gayla. "Someone close to the Industries like those Acreen things they've created to destroy every living thing in the Universe."

  "No Gayla," corrected Kristic. "You're missing the point."

  "Well then enlighten me," she said with a thrust in her voice. "I must be blinded by my own light, because for the life of me I can't see what you're talking about."

  "No," Kristic laughed. "It has to be something that exists throughout time to create a thousand replicas of something at the same time, but in different times."

  Gayla laughed. "Oh yeah," she roared. "Especially, if they've cloned you a thousand years apart. A million years––that makes it."

  "That's right," smiled Kristic. "That makes it right smack dead in the middle of the Regeneration Wars."

  "The Jantis Atilies?" said Travis.

  "The one world universe!" said Avenall. "They're in the Nexusphere itself."

  "The Nexus!"

  "Bingo," burst out Kristic. "It's time we travel."

  • • •

  Sara Jolland followed Bogar above deck, down the ramp and across the dirt streets into a bar on the dock. His nose turned up smelling the air. "So much for your little meeting on Myatek," said the huge man. "Thought your accommodations were adequate. You'll undoubtedly find the tavern a little more demanding, my dear."

  "What's this deal you've made with Jonsanna Klue in the streets of Myatek, Bogar. You knew the plan just as well as the rest of us. No one outside was suppose to be involved. No one!"

  "Calm down, Sara Jolland," commanded Bogar, pulling her to a seat, turning her around. "I saved you didn't I? You're alive aren't you?"

  "That doesn't answer my question. Who was that man? And who would want to buy me, if they knew I was alive?"

  "Reuben Taylor of course. He’s at your service," announced the replicant of a Galactic Senator, Reil Ben Tolar. "So you're the prize worth the catch, here abouts."

  "I'm no prize," snickered Jolland.

  "Well that's a matter of opinion, isn't it?" answered Reuben Taylor, stepping up to the bar. "A drink bartender, bring me the bottle." Rusty snickered, even laughed a little, before turning to back to Jolland to continue his conversation. "And you miss, can I get you anything?”

  “There’s a price on your head––a bounty, that's all. I'm just the one who figured out how to stop you before the Industries got a hold of you. You're worth a lot to me!"

  "Dead or alive?" asked Jolland.

  Reuben Taylor smiled his handsome man smile. "It doesn't matter to me," he continued, answering Sara Jolland as bluntly as possible. "Dead––I'll still survive: Alive––the same thing. There's no matter to me. I don't care, Jolland."

  Reuben Taylor walked away, continuing his conversation talking to himself as he strolled along the dock. "The only one that it matters to is the Industries. To them you're some kind of focal point in time. If you live history goes one way. If you die, well then history goes another way. It doesn't matter much to me. I win either way––my history doesn't change."

  Bogar smiled, cocking his head to light a long cigar then spoke out of the side of his mouth. "You see my dear," he said in a garbled tongue, "the Industries want you dead. The rebellion wants you alive. Whomever pays the most gets the rewards." The big fat, angry man waltzed over to where Reuben Taylor stood. "Besides," he said with a grin. "Reil Ben Tolar here is just a clone too what does he know of history?"

  Reuben Taylor took a long drink then turned away from Jolland to look around the room as it emptied out, quietly. The tavern was no louder than a whisper. "Damn," he said under his breath turning around to face an old enemy. "You're a crusty, old whale of a man, Bogar."

  "Well––" slapped out the baron. "You haven't changed much either, but it's your move. How would you like to play it?"

  Jonsanna Klue smiled, taking another drink from the counter at the corner of the bar. "You're still just big a Trigennian swamp critter, but I think you've grown even more ugly, Bogar!"

  "I'm just as happy to see you too, brother. But I've a little score to settle here first!"

  "Yeah," said Jonsanna Klue. "We do! But this isn't the time or place."

  "One place is as good as another," answered the replicant of Reuben Taylor. The big man gnawed on his cigar, rolling it over and over again between his teeth.

  "I'll let you choose the place you want to die," Bogar said to both of them. Jonsanna laughed at the huge man, and backed away from the table. "Hell," said Bogar with a snarl still on his lips. "I thought you would have forgotten about that little time trip by now."

  "Not a chance," stressed the replicant. "It cost more than I was willing to pay, don't you remember?"

  "How could I forget? It made you what you are today, Klue!” Two gangster machines, the same ones that scooped up Jerolda Manchi and Tee entered the room. "I know how much of a hurry you two must be in to get back to whatever," said Bogar, "but I think it would be more to our liking if you'd both take a little trip with me!" Bogar motioned to the machines. "Bring them both along!"

  ––– 44 –––

  BLUBBER NODES

  Jerolda Manchi hit the floor in front of Tee, rolling out to a thud against the wall. The two huge gangster machines sat down at a makeshift table to smoke and play cards. Jerolda Manchi looked over at Tee, somewhat bewildered. "What do they want with us?"

  "Hey––" bellowed the machine. "You two shut up! Keep it quiet until the boss gets back, or I'll drill ya––understand?"

  "Yeah," snapped Tee. "I got ya blubber nodes!"

&
nbsp; Tee turned around to face the window behind his frightened companion. "Hang on Jerolda!" he said in a quiet whisper. "I'll figure a way out of this."

  "Used starship lot" was painted on the sign in green neon letters. Tee looked around, shaking from his experience with the gangster bots. The junkyard was filled with everything a good trash compactor would want––hundreds of used, old and outdated starships sat side by side in row after row. Tee held Jerolda Manchi's hand, out of sheer panic. The last time he'd been in a graveyard was during the restoration period, following the centuries of regeneration. But he couldn't remember feeling the way he did right now. This junkyard was a wasteland, complete with some old relics like the "May Blossom" and the "epoch Falcon."

  Jerolda Manchi looked up at the sign over the door. The two mechanical gangsters had scooped them up entered this old, run down cloud-rigger's aft section passing through it into another compartment, where a smaller space vehicle docked, attached at the rear. But there was no way of telling what ship it was attached to, the rigger was barely afloat on the mist line.

  The door slams open and in steps Sara Jolland, Jonsanna Klue, the replicant of Reuben Taylor, and Bogar and his mechanical henchmen. The replicant of Taylor hit the floor in front of Jerolda Manchi and Tee. "Hello fellows," he said. "Good to see you again." Jonsanna moaned as Bogar kicked him to the floor and stepped down on the middle of his back, leaning a few inches in so he could talk more directly to him. "You've only one choice to make, Jonsanna Klue. Where do you want to die?"

  "Die," said Jerolda Manchi. "But he isn't the Jonsanna Klue we know."

  "Better see if Treads has awaken the cargo," whispered Tee.

  Bogar pushed down with his boot again. "Stop mumbling, or I'll have your tongue cut out right here and now!"

  "All right, blowgar, snapped Jonsanna Klue. "You whining little...."

  "I just wonder how much I can get for an old outdated clone like you, Klue," said Bogar walking away. "You have to be worth something; at least, a credit or two somewhere in the galaxy. But you ... my beauty; you're a different story. I've two of you. Just don't know which one the Industries wants, and which one the rebellion wants."

  Jerolda Manchi looked at Tee. This confirmed his believes. There was more than one of Sara Jolland. She had to be cloned, everything depended on it. "Contact Atlantis," he whispered to Tee. His computer screen lit up with: "THE CALVARY IS ON THE WAY..."

  Bogar stopped short of Jolland making an advance at her, grabbing at her breast. Jolland jerked away, disgusted.

  "Don't worry, my pretty," said the gangster. "The Industries will do far worse to you than touch you."

  "You'll never get me there alive, Bogar."

  "How true my dear, but then you can't have everything the way you want it. What would life be like, if we had everything we wanted. Besides, we have a date for you in the Eden sector.

  "Earth," whispered Tee.

  "Earth," said Jonsanna Klue. Bogar turned to his henchmen, and snarled at them, "Prep the ship for departure. I want to be underway, immediately."

  The replicant of Reuben Taylor looked over at the two little machines and winked. Bogar's ship powered up, blasting away from the junkyard. The huge cylinder shaped ship hurtled skyward, teleporting across time and space as it vanished into a gateway along the edge of the Nexusphere. Treads emerged from the Atlantis II, followed by a tall, handsome warrior who watched Bogar's ship vanish into the heavens. "Treads wake the others," said Jaggard. "We're going to need the team."

  Treads rolled back and spun around, heading for the entrance to the Beamrider. An instant later, he disappeared inside the ship.

  ––– 45 –––

  TREADS WITH MEETINGS

  Kristic, Gayla and Avenall emerged into the past, tucked tightly into the underbrush along a ridge overlooking the city of Atlantis. Travis moved around the edge of the rocks, watching the course of flying basket-shaped cars as they moved to and from the city. "That's it," announced Kristic, looking through a pair of electronic binoculars. "There's a small access road to the left ... about a thousand meters short of the main route."

  "I think I've found our way in," he continued, scanning the area centering on a small mechanical cargo transporter. Kristic lowered the binoculars and turned to face his companions. "There's a small transport on its way down the ridge right now. We might be able to jump it from behind. I think it's our best way into the main complex."

  Travis took the binoculars and scanned the same terrain. The machine was descending the ridge, heading straight for them. It would be tight, but it looked like they could make it to the side of the road before it passed by their position. "Let's go," said Travis.

  Avenall went first, followed by Gayla, then Kristic. The machine crawled along the ground, moving at no more than ten to fifteen meters per second. Kristic moved out into the open behind it and started the chase down the road. The machine beeped a warning as it picked up its pace another five meters a second. It was all Kristic could do to keep up. The others dashed into the road, running after Kristic and the machine. Avenall stayed in the lead. "Come on," yelled Kristic, after making a leap for the back of the machine.

  His fingers caught the edge just as the machine went sailing over the road, blowing up a cloud of dust as he pulled himself aboard and turned himself around in order to pull the others aboard. But the machine was well out of reach, driving hard toward its destination. Avenall came to a halt in the middle of the road. Kristic was too far ahead to catch up, so he was on his own.

  "Damn," he said out of breath. "Looks like we missed the boat."

  "Maybe not," shouted Gayla, catching sight of another machine heading down the road behind them. "Look!" Avenall helped Travis to the side of the road, hiding in the brush. Gayla looked at his wounds. The run wasn't doing him any good. The stinger poison was causing great discomfort.

  "Can you make it," wondered Avenall.

  "I don't think there's much choice in the matter." Gayla closed up the wound and pressed the medallion to it again, but nothing happened. "I guess we've done as much for it as we can. Sorry, Travis." The young warrior nodded, but it didn't help. He was still a lot of pain. Avenall ran for the machine and leaped onto the back, taking the transport's driver by surprise. He held the electronic eye forward blinding the machine to activities along the side of the road.

  "Come on," yelled Gayla, making for the transport with Travis in tow. She leaped aboard and pulled the wounded knight aboard, sitting beside him with her head on his shoulder. She was winded from the run and just plain tired from everything else. Kristic looked back trying to see the others aboard the second transport, but it was no use. The transports were too far apart. Avenall and the others would have to catch up at their own pace. They already had plans to reach the inner city, so Kristic figured they would just keep to the schedule they had made up. It would bring them back together, eventually.

  Avenall leaped to the ground as the machine nears the inner part of the city, helping Gayla and Travis off the back. They were near the genetic laboratory. "Home of the Industries," snapped Avenall. "Whoever thought I would be walking into the––" He stopped and looked at the machine. It had stopped just ahead of them. "Quickly," said Avenall, pulling Gayla by the hand. "Into the bushes."

  The machine hovered before them, revolving to get a better look at them; however, the transport was disappointed. They were gone, obscured among the crowds in the city streets. The transport moved on, scratching its head with its long crane arm.

  Kristic made his way through the crowded streets, stopping at an aqueduct, which divided the borders about the laboratory and the twin towers complex. "Damn," he said, somewhat annoyed. "There's only one way in or out and I can't use the molecular shift––it's too close to the complex, they'll be able to pick-up on my energy distortion."

  It was apparent his only advantage was surprise. He was going to have to wait for night. It would give the others time to catch up.

  ––– 46 ––
–

  ATLANTIS

  Atlantis was a beautiful place, thought Callen stepping out of the teleportation beam into the confines of the machine city. The sky was filled with a glistening blanket of twinkling stars in the heavens. Night had befallen the city, surrounding the genetic laboratory in a shroud of lights and flickering beacons. The laboratory's corridors were less attractive, a sterile structure blended in grays and whites. Callen looked around the interior of the chamber, searching passed the usual plants and wall trimmings, trying to get a bearing on where exactly he was.

  The main corridor would lead to the genetics lab itself. It had to be close. He could feel it, along with the bruises on his face. Tanna had traveled this way just ahead of him, disappearing behind the glow at the end of the hall. The place was radiating with the essence of the living light, similar experiments to those conducted on Trithen. It was obvious this was the true laboratory.

  Everyone thought it on Trithen when in fact; the replication program initiated on Earth. That’s the secret. Earth was an experiment no one admitted existed. Secrets where closely guarded within secrets. Kellnar's plans were more complicated than anyone realized.

  Callen knew there was more to this than met the eye, why else would Tanna take such chances in the future. There was something in the past he was trying to conceal, something so vital to his survival that it made it impossible to reach. There had to be a connection. Something he'd overlooked when he returned to the past to intercept Jolland. The secret had to be sealed in the genetics laboratory, hidden behind the closed doors that he stood before. "Callen," said a soft woman's voice in his mind. "I can feel your presence. Where are you?"

  Callen backed away from the door, afraid. He composed himself. It was the first time he had ever heard telepathy. "What...." he said. "Who ... where are you?" He spun around, looking behind him. There was no one else in the corridor. "You must not be here," continued the woman's voice in his head. "It's dangerous for you."