Doc Ardan and The Abominable Snowman

by Guy d'Armen

  “Don’t…” Dale said, then turned and touched her cousin Francis on the arm. “Should we…?

  “Let him go,” Francis said, getting to his feet as he watched his great-grandfather push his way through the underbrush and into the field.

  “Are you going to do something?” Dale asked, joining Francis and sliding her ray gun out of its holster. “Help him, or are you just going to use him as a stalking horse?”

  Francis gave the bare minimum of a shrug, as though unsure himself which option to choose and kept his attention on his older relative.

  Michel strode into the field, one hand resting jauntily on his belt. His expression was that of a man who has just entered a café and seeks the headwaiter’s attention rather than that of a time-lost stranger that has just walked into a military camp.

  He stood there in plain view for several minutes before a few of the bustling soldiers took notice of his arrival.

  As they moved towards him, rifles up, their ghostly expressions anxious, Michel raised his hands.

  “Bonjour!” he said, smiling in what he hoped was a friendly and unthreatening manner. He’d had great luck with it on young women, but this was his first attempt at ingratiating himself with soldiers.

  It must have been fairly successful as no one shot him, but not a complete success, as no one lowered their guns or smiled back.

  Francis moved closer to his relative, but kept the trees and underbrush between him, Dale and the soldiers.

  The young woman took a step forward, but her cousin stopped her with a gentle touch on her wrist and a shake of his head.

  They watched, as the soldiers gestured with their rifles, where they wanted Michel to go. They grunted questions at the polar-clad Frenchman. They seemed to find his arrival surprising and, despite him being a fellow countryman, and his reassuring and gallant smile, they seemed distrustful.

  Moving stealthily through the trees, Francis and Dale kept sight of them and followed their progress through the makeshift camp.

  At one point, Michel, enthralled by his unusual surroundings, missed a turn and one of the soldiers lunged forward to grab his arm.

  The trees and the soldier having his back to Francis kept him from getting a good look at what occurred. All he and Dale could see was the three men stopping and looking puzzled at something.

  Michel took a step back from the soldiers, his hands raised once more. His look of nonchalance melted away, leaving his features grey and shaken.

  “Something is wrong,” Francis muttered.

  “And we aren’t going to find out what by sitting in these bushes!” Dale snapped, grabbing a hold of his arm, as she got to her feet. “Study time is over. At least with Flash, I don’t have to worry about him over-thinking things. Let’s go!”

  After being dragged a few steps, Francis gave up any hope of getting his cousin to slow down and quickly jogged past her, bursting from cover with the plan of reaching their older relative first.

  Since they had arrived in this mysterious place, Francis had focused his keen senses and intellect pondering their dilemma and its solution. This tactic had unfortunately been seen as reluctance on his part or outright unwillingness to take action.

  Nothing could be further from the truth. Francis was just not as impulsive as his other two relatives. He had a distinct idea in his head of when it was time to observe, and when it was time to move.

  He was a bit perturbed that the initiative was being taken by Dale and Michel’s actions, but once the time to act had come, there was no hesitation on his part.

  Leaving his female cousin easily behind, Francis quickly moved from the forest to Michel’s side, taking a defensive stance, ready to fight off the soldiers if necessary.

  “Are you all right?” Francis asked his great-grandfather.

  “I… do not know,” Michel muttered, rubbing at his arm and studying it intently.

  The soldiers took several steps back and raised their guns at the new arrival. Other soldiers approached, several running up, others moving slower and more cautiously.

  “What happened?” Francis asked.

  “He grabbed my arm…” Michel muttered, looking from his arm to Francis, his expression completely bewildered.

  “Hold on boys!” Dale shouted, catching up. One of the soldiers turned and, after an appreciative glance at her skin-tight outfit, moved to block her path.

  To both their surprise, she ran through him, as if he were no more solid than a waterfall.

  Dale skidded to a halt, then turned and stared at the soldier.

  The soldier stared back, dropped his rifle and frantically felt his chest.

  Puzzled, Francis glanced from Dale to Michel, and then threw a punch at the nearest soldier. It passed right through the soldier’s chest. Francis withdrew his fist and flexed his fingers.

  “Interesting,” he said.

  “They’re ghosts!” several of the French soldiers announced at once.

  “We’re not the ghosts!” Michel snapped at the soldiers. “It is you who are deceased! I am hale and hearty!”

  “No one is a ghost,” Francis said, not raising his voice, but his tone drew everyone’s attention.

  “She walked through me!” one soldier protested, pointing accusingly at Dale.

  “Um…sorry,” she muttered, lowering her gun, as she was unsure where to point it or even if it would be of any help.

  “Everyone calm down for a moment,” Francis advised, raising his hands in a placating gesture. He turned to the nearest soldier. “What’s today’s date, private?”

  “Um…I’m not entirely sure,” the soldier replied. “To be honest, we have… it’s… just…”

  He looked around at his comrades for support. They, too, all appeared either reluctant or unable to say when it was and what they were doing here.

  “We aren’t sure how we got here from… um… and we never made it back…. Best if you spoke to the Lieutenant…and the Professor,” he finally stammered. “Follow me…you too, mademoiselle…”

  Dale acknowledged his awkward good manners with a nod and a smile and followed the young soldier and her two male relatives. Michel glanced around him thoughtfully.

  Francis attempted to study further, but kept being distracted by a poking at his bare right arm.

  “What?” he asked, peering over his shoulder at Dale.

  “Just testing,” she replied, absently.

  “Testing what?” he said, realizing that this cousin was no less aggravating as an adult then she had been as a child.

  “We can touch each other,” Dale replied, thoughtfully. “But…”

  She reached past Francis and put her hand through the shoulder of the nearest soldier. He twitched slightly, but it didn’t seem to affect him enough to turn.

  “Stop that,” Francis chided her.

  “So, how come?” she asked.

  “I don’t know everything,” he replied.

  “Could have fooled me.”

  “My best guess is different… methods of time travel operate at different frequencies,” Francis shrugged.

  To his surprise, rather than asking more questions, Dale merely nodded and sank back into thoughtful silence.

  The group made their way through the makeshift army camp to large tent at the far corner. The young soldier led them into the cluttered interior. It looked as though someone had dumped a university science lab and a bootleggers’ back room into a sack, shook it and then dumped the contents inside this tent.

  In an oasis, two men stood, with their backs to the Ardans, intently working on some unseen project.

  One was a shorter, compact man in a bottle-green frock coat; the other wore the robe and headdress of a Bedouin.

  “Scuse me, sirs…?” the young soldier said, after they had stood by, ignored for several minutes.

  “Duranton, we can’t be interrupted if we…” The tall Bedouin said, in a clear French accent.

  Both men turned, revealing the shorter man to have a n
eatly trimmed beard and a pince-nez perched on his bulbous nose, while despite his attire, the Bedouin was obviously a blonde European. One eye was scrunched up in a squint, indicating an injury.

  Both men paused, blinking in surprise at the new arrivals.

  “What in blazes…?” the man in the frock coat muttered, more irritated than surprised.

  “Who…?” the taller man added. “How…?”

  “We were rather hoping you could answer those questions,” Michel said.

  “This may be hard to believe,” Dale said, “but, we think we came here through time travel.”

  The two men shared a glance and the taller gave a small smile.

  “You knew that already, though,” Francis said, looking around the cluttered tent.

  “We were told you could explain what’s going on?” Michel added, in a faintly challenging tone.

  “It’s difficult…” the tall man began.

  “Oh, balderdash!” the bearded man grumbled. “Basic temporal theory and mechanics.”

  “I am Lieutenant Henri de Lanselles,” the tall man said. “My friends call me Monocard, due to…” he trailed off and gestured towards his afflicted eye. “By default, I am in charge of these men. We came across a… device that transported us from the frontlines to 13th century Spain… there were complications… some made the return trip. We were not so fortunate.”

  “What he’s attempting to convey,” the bearded man interrupted, “is that all the men here were left behind in the 13th century, and so experienced the rather unique… um…experience of dying several centuries before they were born. This created rather a sizable ripple in the time stream.”

  “You seem to know a great deal about all this,” Francis mused. “They referred to you as Professor. I take it you do not belong to the Collège de France?”

  “Not in the least,” he stated, puffing up with pride, adding perhaps an inch to his less than impressive height. “I am Professor Helvetius, a student of the myriad facets of the flow of time. It was during my studies that I became aware of the troopers predicament and the damage it could cause. I used my own personal transport…”

  He nodded towards a metal contraption wedged into the corner of the tent. It looked like a diving bell.

  “…To retrieve them and transport them somewhere, relatively safer and less likely to damage the fabric of the continuum…”

  “Did that make any sense to anyone else?” Michel asked, making no effort to hide his bafflement.

  “A little,” Dale shrugged. “Where are we?”

  “This is a little…pocket, an oasis, set slightly to the side of history,” Helvetius said, his hands clasped behind his back, projecting the air of a university lecturer. “For the moment, they, and the flow of history, are safe, unfortunately there are complications…”

  “Are you using a molecular transponder?” Dale suggested.

  “Ah-ah! A scientist!” Helvetius beamed.

  “I hang out with one,” she replied. ”How are you keeping it stable with a group this big?”

  “That’s one of those complications,” the bearded savant explained. “I can stabilize this little limbo, but that takes all the energy I can generate, which means we can’t actually leave. I’ve been trying to find an alternative power source, but instead, I somehow ended up bringing you three here… that was a bit of a puzzler…”

  “And who are you expecting to attack?” Michel asked, causing everyone to turn and look at him. “Why would you have a fortified military camp unless they was an enemy.”

  Dale gave her relative and appreciative nod.

  “We are not sure who, or even what, they are,” Monocard replied. “The Professor says they are cousins to man, but all we have encountered are beasts.”

  “Yes, yes,” Helvetius said, brushing away Monocard’s concerns with a frown and a faint gesture. “The Morlocks’ arrival is unfortunate, but inconsequential. The real problem is maintaining this pocket dimension, or returning the soldiers to the proper time stream, and both of those options require a stronger energy source!”

  Muttering to himself, the little scientist stalked off, soon lost to sight amongst the clutter.

  The rest of the group stood about, feeling a bit confused and awkward.

  “Well, it sounds like we’ve got two problems then,” Francis said, breaking the silence. He crossed his arms, his tanned forehead crinkling in thought, before turning towards the Frenchmen in desert garb. “Can your men handle these… Morlocks?”

  “We’ve been able to hold them off so far,” Monocard shrugged.

  Francis nodded and turned to his relatives.

  “If I attempt to help Professor Helvetius,” he said. “I know, grandfather, that you have some experience... How about you Dale?”

  “How about me, what?” she asked, baffled.

  “Where would you be able to help best?” Francis asked. “The science or the fighting?”

  “Shouldn’t we be…?” Michel began.

  “If you’re about to suggest finding a safe place for me...” Dale said, her hand resting on the butt of her ray gun.

  Michel glanced at his great-grandson, seeking either support or advice, but saw from his stoic expression that he would be getting neither. He chose the better part of valor and gave a brief bow and a “please continue” gesture.

  “I’d probably be more help in defending the camp,” Dale said. “Most of my knowledge is second hand, and this is beyond anything I’ve encountered.”

  Francis nodded then returned his attention to the time-lost soldier. Monocard then moved to the flap of the tent.

  “Jasim!” he called, leaning out.

  A disheveled soldier, with some odd bits of braid and patches on his uniform, came jogging up.

  “This gentleman and mademoiselle are volunteering to assist with the defenses. Show them the mess tent and then a posting.”

  Jasim gave his commanding officer a questioning look, then shrugged and lead the pair off.

  “What about you?” Monocard offered, returning to Francis’s side. “What do you have in mind?”

  “I’d like to see what Professor Helvetius is working with,” Francis replied. “A great deal of this is beyond me, but I have studied enough science to understand the basic principles… perhaps I can help, or at least, puzzle out how his search for an energy source scooped the three of us up.”

  Monocard nodded and raised his hand to help guide the adventurer to the right area, when a clatter from amongst the clutter distracted both men. They could see Professor Helvetius’ head bobbing around amongst the collection of scientific bric-a-brac, muttering darkly.

  A wooden stool, piled unsafely high with tools and bits of wire, tipped over, crashed to the ground and a small boy came running out, followed by the scowling scientist.

  The child, a boy, sported a straw boater over a blonde pageboy cut. His knickers and shirt had last been fashionable at the turn of the century.

  He collided with Francis’s muscular leg, clamped one hand onto his hat and peered up. His dirt-smeared face breaking into a smile.

  “Cousin Francis!” he exclaimed. “You got tall!”

  “Button Bright?” Francis muttered. “What are you doing here?”

  “I got lost,” the boy shrugged.

  “You know this urchin?” Helvetius demanded, leaning against a computer bank and dabbing at his face with a large floral-print handkerchief.

  “He’s my cousin,” Francis said, still peering down at the young boy, puzzled.

  “Another one?” the savant grumbled. “This has to be significant… But how?”

  “Why were you chasing him?” Francis asked.

  “He tried to take my marble away,” Button Bright accused, his face taking on a serious expression.

  “What?” Monocard asked.

  Button Bright dug in his pants pocket, coming out with a piece of twine, a small brass gear, a molasses candy and an orange gem about the size of a jelly bean, that seemed t
o glow faintly.

  “Where did you get that?” Francis asked, crouching down, while reaching into one of his vest pockets. “Did you take it from… no, wait…!”

  He took out the gem he’d found in the vault in Atlantis. He held it between thumb and forefinger and reached forward to compare it to the one his young cousin had.

  “Don’t let them touch!” Helvetius suddenly shouted, causing Button Bright to start and close his fist around his gem. “Where did you get those?”

  “Found it,” Button Bright informed him, defensively.

  “Mine was in… uh… an archeological site in the Hoggar,” Francis said, feeling the full story would just further complicate the situation.

  “Do the others have gems with them?” the old scientist asked.

  “I believe so,” Francis responded. “Dale had one when she first appeared here, and I think grandfather said something about finding one, as well… Are they the power source you were looking for?”

  He brought his up to his eye and studied it intently.

  “Oh yes, I believe they will do,” Helvetius smiled, digging into a vest pocket and pulling out a jeweler’s loupe and screwing it into an eye. “They positively reek of temporal energy and causality.”

  “All four of you found one of those gems?’ Monocard asked, leaning over Francis’s shoulder to study it as well.

  “No,” the Professor said, straightening up and taking the lens from his eye.

  “What do you mean, ‘No’?” Francis asked, standing up.

  He picked up the toppled stool, then picked up Button Bright and placed him on it.

  “Oh, it’s even better than that,” Helvetius replied. “The four of you have only one gem between you!”

  “Is that supposed to make sense?” Monocard asked.

  “Are you saying, we each found the same gem, but at different points in history?” Francis asked. “Is that possible?”

  “Oh, yes,” Helvetius nodded, his voice taking on a pleased tone. “Just quite tricky and fairly dangerous. This is a very special artifact. It’s one of only a handful of such items to be found in all of time and space. It’s crystallized chronal energy and… well, can’t stand about… Come along, we’ve work to do, I’ll explain further while we put them to good use!”