by Grant Fausey
Jaggard laughed then stepped away to reveal the vast interior of Rallumn's fortress, the radiance glistening before Kristic and Gayla as they lay the infant, Rune Linka, before Rallumn. Alvericon's image formed within the brilliance. Like Jolland, Rune Linka raised his light, finding the end of her journey in the infinite universe of the Triad. Rebirth manifested a new existence, one destined to live in the compassion of a new reality. She was pleased with herself.
"You have done well, my children: All of you, said the Source. “Behold the future course of mankind––"
The radiance of Alvericon exploded in a blinding light, engulfing all that surrounded it in a race across the surface of the Earth, devouring the planet in the brilliance. But when the light faded into the beauty of nature, the heavens filled with luminous beings of limitless brilliance. The darkness was gone and the stars shinned in the night. Alvericon's voice stretched out across the universe, touching the mind and heart of every living creature with a simple message of becoming one.
––– 49 –––
EPILOGUE
The edge of the Milky Way spanned the distance, filling the windows of the Atlantis Two with the new Earth. Treads made his way back along the turtle shell-shaped floor, heading for the aft compartments and the cargo bay. He knew they were on course, but the stars didn't match the charts. They had completed reversion, and the Earth was as beautiful and green as ever below them; however, Treads was worried. This wasn't to his liking; the stars were out of place.
"This can't be right," he muttered talking to himself. "Everything is all wrong, here. The planet's green and the mountains clear ... that's all fine and good, but the damn star charts don't match the sky."
Treads stopped short of the hatchway to the aft compartment and looked back into the flight deck. "Wait a minute," he said confused, scratching his head as he spun around, taking another look out the windows. "We've emerged from the hyper-jump into the wrong time zone!"
"Jumpstart!" He screamed.
Clicks ducked, dropping out of the way behind his control council. Hearing Treads was just too much to consume; he knew he would explode in a rampage any minute, rushing back and forth through the ship looking for heads to chop off. Clicks didn't want to be one of them.; he liked his neck just the way it was.
Treads was on his way, hands clenched into fists. It was all he could do to keep his treads from spinning on the floor. He was so angry.
"Jumpstart!" he screamed again, this time at the top of his lungs. "Were not where we're supposed to be!"
Jerolda Manchi took a step back, letting the hotheaded machine have clear passage along the hall to the rear of the ship.
Tee snickered, and Jumpstart cringed at the sound of his voice, peeling back into a ball: His feet shivering on the deck plates. This was serious, he didn't want a confrontation this close to the end of his tour of duty, especially with this moron but what could he do; there wasn't any choice. The group of Trods gathered together in front of the holographic projection table, looking down at the ghostly likeness of the Earth as it appeared in the center of the image.
"Jumpstart," repeated Treads. "We've got a problem!"
A series of beeps and whistles rang within the silence of the ship, accompanied by the sounds of moving parts adjusting the sheer heat of the interior components. The vessel was breathing.
"Clicks!" yelled Treads. "See if you can raise Houston on the Proteus Mona. We're out of position!"
"Right away," answered Clicks, making a beeline for the communications center: Anything to get out of the way. Treads was on a rampage, rolling down the ramp toward the projected image of the Earth as two small frog shaped feet hopped across the floor, landing next to him.
Jumpstart looked up at him trembling. "Jumpstart," he said somewhat embarrassed. "I must have made a slight miscalculation in the trajectory information I asked you to plot with. We're out of position for rendezvous with the Proteus Mona.
Jerolda Manchi stood quietly next to Rotob on the far side of the projection table. His tiny hand reached up to touch the projection, as if to caress it but another hand stopped him, taking a hold of it.
"What's the problem Treads?"
"We've come out of our hyper-jump in the right location, but somewhat short of our scheduled rendezvous time."
"You mean where lost..."
"Not exactly. We can't make contact with the Proteus Mona."
"Treads," yelled Clicks. "Get’em."
"Pipe it back here, Clicks." The speakers above the projection table crackled, making a hissing noise. Treads looked up at them, and shook his head. "I've got to get that fixed."
"Atlantis Two … Atlantis Two, this is Houston Cap Com, you're cleared to begin your descent."
"Roger, Houston," answered Clicks, quickly adjusting the ship's controls. The Atlantis Two pivoted sharply, dropping from orbit. The Earth rotated into view, filling the windows with a spectacular view of the planet.
The Trods cheered, taking up landing positions; rendezvous was only a few short minutes away, or was it? Treads stared at the projection. Something wasn't quite right ... the voice of Houston was different. It had changed somehow, and certainly wasn't the vocals of a living machine. A clap of thunder echoed though the interior of the Beamrider making it more difficult to rectify the problem as the ship lined up for descent to the Earth.
Treads looked out of the window. Above them in a different orbit the space shuttle Atlantis Two, started its descent to land at Edwards Air Force Base in Southern California.
Treads frowned. He knew he was off on another adventure and this time, he had no choice but to awaken the rest of the cargo.
The adventure continues in …
OF CRIMSON INDIGO
Samuel Nomad’s
NEW AMERICA
TWO UNIVERSES … ONE FUTURE
A FAUSCLAN ENTERTAINMENT NOVEL
www.fausclanentertainment.com