"Yes, just like this," I replied, reaching forward to give her a friendly caress on her head. She had a funny little point on the top of her noggin like an ordinary hound might have. Kipp's head, in contrast, was rounded in a soft, curving arc. Bending my knees, I sat on the grass, thankful that despite the early hour, the surface was relatively dry. We had not bothered with vintage clothing since our goal was to make a time shift and return almost immediately.
Relaxing, I decided to lie back in the grass, and Kipp nudged forward, putting his head across my chest. We usually assumed such a posture when preparing to journey. Peter, after gazing at us for a moment, copied our stance; Elani curled up close to him, her muzzle stretched up on his shoulder. I watched as his hand drifted up to touch her fur, his fingers tunneling into her pelt in a gentle caress. Yes, their bond was palpable and distinct.
Kipp and I began to concentrate on the Land's Point Colony... the time, place, topography, culture of the day and anything at all that would guide us. With Kipp's superior talents, I let him reach out a helping paw, so to speak, to Peter and Elani, given their youth and inexperience. The moment was exciting, despite the fact I'd done this many, many times before. It was as if we backed off a diving board into a black void, our bodies jack-knifing with grace and power as we folded ourselves into the distant past.
A time shift leaves one slightly disoriented for a moment, and this experience was no exception. And one could never predict the manner of landing. Mine were usually gentle, and I would open my eyes to find myself sitting or lying in a relatively comfortable position. But my last one had been rough, and this one was, too. I was lying on my left arm and had somehow twisted my shoulder and arm upon landing. As I sat up, the pain almost made me nauseous.
"Petra, are you okay?" Kipp's anxious thoughts pushed the pain from my head for a moment. His big, wet nose touched my cheek before beginning a tentative exploration of my shoulder.
My vision cleared, and I was gratified to see Peter and Elani, about two yards away from us, sitting in a patch of overgrown weeds, blinking their eyes in confusion. Peter looked up at me, and after a moment struggling for recognition, a huge grin split his face.
"This is neat!" he exclaimed, before I shushed him to keep his voice low. We had no idea if people were in close proximity.
"Petra's hurt," Kipp announced, more focused on me than anything else.
Peter, with his youth and energy, jumped to his feet and approached, reaching down a hand to assist me to my feet. Days like that made me feel older than my actual years.
"Just landed hard," I said gruffly, not caring for the attention. Privately, I thought I might have to make a little urgent care visit when we got back to modern times. My rebellious left wrist didn't seem to want to cooperate with the instructions from my brain.
At my urging, Peter and Elani walked a short distance to evaluate our surroundings. We were, as Kipp and I had been before, in the midst of an ancient woods, surrounded by a dark, thick forest that would disappear with the advancement of civilization. Many of the trees were down, torn up by the roots when Nature had a tantrum, and the rotting vegetation on the ground led to a fertile and active growth of young trees, shrubs and wild undergrowth. The goal was not to search out any human habitation but just to make this trip and return home successfully.
"Can you pick up human thoughts?" I asked Kipp, knowing that I didn't.
"No, not yet," he replied.
"Well, good. We don't want to run into anyone," I mumbled with relief.
Peter and Elani returned; his face was flushed with excitement. Elani's head was up as she used her superior nose to canvass the territory, taking in all that she could. Vaguely I recalled my first time shift; indeed, it was one of the most memorable experiences of my life. I was glad that this had gone well. History told of bad first time shifts that left a novice pair unwilling to try again.
"I think we need to get back," Kipp remarked, sniffing delicately at my wrist. "I can smell blood and fluid pooling under the skin, and you need to get this checked," he added.
I lay back, willing to let my better half give me orders and boss me completely. What is the good of a symbiotic partner if you don't allow him to tell you what to do some of the time? Kipp stretched his muzzle on my breastbone, twisting his head slightly so his eyes met mine. As always, a surge of love and trust flowed between us, and I felt my eyes begin to water with emotion. A short distance away, Peter and Elani copied our posture, and it was as if we were backing out of a parking spot as we reversed what we had just accomplished.
Our first time shift–Kipp and I as teachers and Peter and Elani as novices–was complete.
Chapter 4
"So how did this happen?" Fitzhugh asked, gazing down his long nose at the aircast splint on my left wrist.
"Hard landing," I muttered, not meeting his eyes.
"Maybe you are getting to old for this nonsense," he remarked, pouring me a cup of Earl Grey.
The tea service, like Fitzhugh, was antique and deceptively fragile. The cups were fine china, eggshell thin to the point of translucency. I'd always feared I would drop one and watch, horrified, as it smashed into a thousand pieces. My relationship with Fitzhugh had aged like a fine wine, mellowing over the years. Once he had targeted me for unending harassment, maintaining a posture of disapproval for pretty much anything I did. But finally it clicked with him that I was a serious symbiont; perhaps my relationship with Kipp had matured me. Yes, as I thought on it, the responsibility of taking on Kipp as my partner was a sobering experience. He was a unique being, innocent and untrained when I met him, and it was placed in my hands the responsibility to mold him in an ethical manner while preserving his natural talents. I'd not wanted the job, but Kipp attached himself to me and would not partner with any other.
"I had a hard landing once," Fitzhugh commented with a sigh as he sat back in his chair. After blowing gently on the rim of the tea cup, he gingerly took a sip. The steam was rising off the brew like fog off of a chilled lake caught in the unexpected glow of a morning sun. "It was during a trip to ancient Troy, and somehow Lydea and I ended up in a trash pit outside of the city along with the refuse and other unmentionable things." Closing his eyes, he shook his head. "I still shudder to think of it."
I had to laugh. At that moment, Lily the Terrible decided to make her feline presence known and jumped up in my lap, uninvited in the way that cats behave. She was a little tiger striped beauty with an utterly beguiling feminine face. As I scratched her chin, she gazed up at me, blinking her eyes as she delivered a silent kitty kiss. Before the welcomed tea break, I'd been working on a manuscript translation. Although my primary focus was to work with Peter and Elani, there was a planned brief pause following our return from the coast. All in all, the first time shift for the novice pair had been successful, and they passed the most critical test in that they chose to go on and make another attempt.
"What is your next excursion?" Fitzhugh asked.
As I looked over at him, I recognized, with mild surprise, the nature of my current relationship with the old symbiont. It seemed odd that I would feel tenderness and grudging affection for the grumpy old symbiont who typically held all at arms length. Despite his rigid view of symbiont ethics and life in general, he quietly held more than a few secrets involving Kipp and me and had become a valued advisor.
"Philo wants us to go to the Chattanooga area and spend a few days." I made a face. "Both Peter and I have an interest in the American Civil War, so he thought we could check out the Chickamauga battlefield as well as Lookout Mountain." I sighed and carefully placed my teacup back on the table. "We will try another time shift, maybe to that period, but for no other purpose than to make the trip and back."
"Peter is showing great maturity," Fitzhugh replied, his dark eyes showing evidence of fatigue.
It had not been that long since he suffered a mild heart attack, and I had to exert self control to not hover and become bossy with him. He was too old and stubbo
rn to permit such a thing, but any reasonable being would recognize he'd had a long day and it was time to rest. Knowing he was not reading my thoughts, I stood and stretched, wincing slightly as the movement put pressure on my sprained wrist.
"I'm tired and think I want to call it a day," I announced, feeling pleased with my cleverness.
"No you're not," he replied, his mouth turning down in a frown. "You just believe I need to take it easy, being the fragile old fossil that I am."
As I sat there inhaling the scent of the musty documents that crowded the stacks while considering my next move, the door opened and in walked Peter. It struck me again what a fine looking young fellow he was, as well as the fact he was easily young enough to be my son or even grandson. The latter thought made me shake my head in wonder and disbelief. On that particular day, he was wearing a sharp turtleneck sweater beneath a tweed jacket; the combo made him look urbane and suave. His dark hair, which had the tendency to fall carelessly across his forehead, had been tamed for the moment and was brushed clear of his eyes.
"I thought I'd barge in and grab some tea... that is, if you don't mind," Peter said, looking at Fitzhugh.
"Not at all," the old symbiont replied, nodding his head. "Would you make a fresh pot?" he asked, pointing at the now cold tea service.
Peter laughed, somewhat good naturedly I thought, considering his past grumblings over toting and fetching at the command of Fitzhugh. Carefully lifting the tray, he disappeared to the small kitchen in the rear. A moment later, the door to the library opened again, and Kipp appeared, looking relaxed despite his day of working with the young lupines. He walked over to greet Lily, who boxed his nose with sheathed claws. He was her surrogate mother, and even though she'd not lived with us for some time, she never forgot him and was most happy when curled between his forelegs, her feline arms stretched around his massive neck. Kipp circled and lay on the floor; Lily immediately staked out a place on his back, resting at the base of his neck along his curving spine, her wedge of a face peeking out from between his large ears. Kipp looked at me and sighed softly as he blinked his eyes. He didn't even need to send me any thoughts at all.
Peter returned with the tea service, having added an extra cup for himself. I noticed he thoughtfully refilled the little honey pot, knowing that was a particular vice of mine. He offered for me to pour, a talent I'd never mastered despite having to attempt it so many times over my lifetime. I shook my head, politely declining. We sat, the four of us and Lily, enjoying the stillness. Apparently a storm had kicked up outside, and we could hear the rumbling of thunder as well as the occasional crack of lightening that seemed to send a tremor through the building. I glanced at Kipp and knew he had the same thought as did I–we had walked to work that morning and would have to hang around until the storm passed or beg a ride.
"I can drive you and Kipp home," Peter offered, his face innocent, eyebrows raised on a smooth forehead.
I gave a start, wondering, just for a moment, if he had been able to somehow read my thoughts without my knowing he had done so. But I knew that only Kipp could manage such a feat, and if Peter was that evolved, perhaps he needed to fast track to another line of work. I glanced at Kipp who gave an imperceptible shake of his head. No, it seems, Peter was just being thoughtful. Telling Peter that I appreciated his gesture, I ignored the glance from Fitzhugh which was provocative, to say the least, and delicately sipped at my tea. We filled the time with pleasant chit chat and sharing our brief time shift with a curious Fitzhugh, who had not yet received the formal, documented report that he would add to the collective history of our species.
"I think the main objective, Peter, is to not be afraid of making some mistakes at first," Fitzhugh said, leaning forward to turn off a bright light that illuminated my work space. It was much more pleasant to chat in the dimness of the room.
I nearly fell out of my chair to hear such words come out of the old symbiont's mouth. From my recollection, every mistake I'd ever made was highlighted in large red letters just as if my elementary school teacher graded a poor paper with a big "F" and sent it home to a disapproving parent. After Fitzhugh had spent years on my back about one thing or the other, he was giving Peter a generous, unequivocal pass. Well, I knew he'd mellowed over the years, ending most recently with his comment that if he was younger and still in the market for a companion, he would try to court me! I tried to not shake my head at that amazing recollection.
Fitzhugh was apparently in a fine mood, because he offered to share some of my colossal blunders with Peter, just to help the young one gain confidence that certainly he wouldn't do anything that stupid! At one point, I rolled my eyes and was caught by Fitzhugh in mid-roll. He smiled broadly, a rare event.
"I think Kipp and I are ready, Peter," I said, standing, eager to get him away from Fitzhugh before any more of my secrets were spilled. While he took the tea service to the back to rinse out the cups, I stared a hole through Fitzhugh.
"Thanks for helping me to look even more incompetent than before," I hissed, keeping my voice low.
"You know I was just kidding," he replied, trying not to laugh.
I glanced at Kipp, who had rolled onto his back, his mouth dropped open in the well known lupine laugh. Yes, all were having a gay old time.
Peter returned and, with the courtesy of an old gentleman, offered me his elbow. I was a little surprised at the antique display of gentility but nodded and hooked my arm in his. It did seem a little strange that Peter and I would walk thus, arm in arm so to speak. Kipp hopped up and trotted after us, his mind curiously shielded from mine. Whatever was going on in his big noggin was privy only to him.
"You can keep you precious secrets," I growled at him in my thoughts.
"Uh hum," he replied smugly.
Since Peter and Elani had bonded, they resided together just as did Kipp and I. Peter had an apartment somewhere in Chapel Hill, one that allowed pets. He brought the car around so that the rest of us wouldn't have to get wet; Kipp and Elani hopped in the back while I took the seat next to Peter. My house was a couple of miles away, and it only took us a few minutes, considering the speed limits. Peter had been to my house at my leaving party before we departed for Whitechapel, so directions were not needed. With care, he pulled close to the curb.
"Wait," he said, stopping me as I reached to open the door. "I've wanted to talk to you."
Oops, I thought. Perhaps I should have looked for another ride home. My mind darted to Kipp, but he was still closed to me except to project the image of a large question mark. Funny guy, I thought.
"I want to tell you how I arrived at my decision of wanting to travel," Peter said.
The rain began to fall again in earnest. Not really in the mood to get soaked and also not wishing to be totally rude and dismissive of Peter, I relaxed. This wasn't so bad, sitting in the darkness of the car with the hypnotic sound of raindrops pinging as they struck the metal of the vehicle. The seats in the back of the small car had been laid flat; Kipp and Elani were stretched out, and I could hear their soft breathing, the warmth tickling the back of my neck as the lupines exhaled.
"My maternal grandfather was a noted traveler," Peter began. "He specialized in ancient Egypt and was proficient in facts and details about more than one dynasty." He took a deep breath. "One time, he and his symbiont did not return." Peter half turned towards me, his brown eyes soft but guarded and unreadable. "The episode devastated my mother, which is the main reason she doesn't want me to travel. She never got over his disappearance and has worried the same would happen to me." Sighing, he added, "She pretty much told me if I chose this path that I would go it alone." Peter was a young man, and this was his first definitive break from his nuclear family. That sort of thing was hard for symbionts, as well as humans.
"Tell me more about your amazing grandfather," I requested, settling myself more comfortably in the bucket seat. The query was not made out of sheer politeness; I was genuinely interested. After all, I was a historian and the p
ursuit of information was my profession.
Peter continued to ramble on for an hour, sharing some of his grandfather's exploits. Once he began, I recognized the man from our recorded history, and he had, indeed, added much to our species. He had been a bold and intrepid traveler and once even served as an adviser to a pharaoh–Sneferu, from the fourth dynasty—no easy task for an outsider.
"Peter, I was sent to a prehistoric tundra where I lived with a primitive tribe for a couple of years. My symbiont, Tula, was killed defending me." Kipp crawled forward and stuck his cool, wet nose on the back of my neck; his tongue darted out to touch my skin, a little reminder that he wasn't going anywhere. In reply, I reached back to gently massage beneath his chin where the hairs had lost their silky feel and felt like the bristles on an old man's face.
"Kipp appeared and became a part of my life, so much so, I almost don't remember times before he arrived." I curved my hand so that I could scratch Kipp's head and felt him turn into the caress. Where ever he'd been hiding, telepathically speaking, he returned with a vengeance and all his thoughts, love, and connectedness returned in a rush like surging flood waters.
"You can play life safe and still face tragedy, loss, and disappointment. Or, you can use your God given talents and benefit yourself, your species, and hopefully humanity." There, I'd preached about all I could on that particular night. But as Peter drove off, his taillights winking in the darkness, I felt some measure of satisfaction.
"Good speech," Kipp said, pushing his head under my hand so I'd scratch his ears.
"Yeah, I thought so," I replied, opening the front door.
Kipp ran ahead to the kitchen, almost dancing as he waited for dinner, which was served later than usual. While he bolted down his food, I poured a bowl of Cheerios, too tired and unmotivated to fix anything more substantial.
The Great Locomotive Chase, 1862 Page 4