Jump Starting the Universe

by John David Buchanan

  “You don’t know much about using the Jump Starter do you,” he said with disdain in his scratchy voice. “You left traceable particle residue from the jump haze all over the galaxy, it was like a four lane trans-bahn leading right to you. You should have learned to use the stealth circuit if you intended to be mucking around in other people’s business.”

  “Maybe you reason correctly,” said Blackie. Drop a few bread crumbs and the birds will come to exactly where you want them.

  Zypho looked around quickly. “Oh, very cleaver,” he said, “like you have a cavalry riding in to save you, ‘cause that’s what it will take. I’m considered to be very good with a blade.”

  “So we hear,” responded Blackie trying to buy time but not really sure why.

  “You don’t think Officer Thompson would send five witnesses to a murder off on a hiking trip do you, you’ve stepped right in it just like they said you would.” Zypho looked around again. To distract him Blackie continued, “You know how this goes don’t you, you’ve been on the run and it looks like up until today, successfully. The key has been to step over the traps, right, to see them coming and avoid them. Then go on with business as usual. But this time the bait was just too much to ignore, five witnesses all in one place. Witnesses to a murder attempt, an assassination that you didn’t want witnessed.”

  “When I’m through there won’t be any witnesses,” said Zypho.

  “You are too late Zypho, so very late, you didn’t consider that one of us understands Perlucidian.”

  “That’s nonsense,” came the reply.

  “Really, than how would we know Mikna’s name.”

  Zypho was stunned, he hadn’t counted on this. Blackie went on, “Didn’t you consider that tracking us was a little too easy, that maybe you were being led exactly where we wanted you? Didn’t you consider the possibility that Officer Thompson was playing you like a fine violin, you moron?” Zypho’s mind was spinning, then he made his decision; nothing is worse than witnesses, if they knew about Mikna, what else did they know, what had they told the police, what else might they tell them? Zypho reached to unbutton his cloak and stepped toward them.

  Without warning Nita moved forward to meet him. Zypho made to shove her aside but she deflected his hand and placed a round house kick against his left cheek that sent him reeling backward to the ground. Wayne moved forward to stand next to Nita.

  “I think you are going to regret that,” spat Zypho as he smiled and jumped to his feet. Zypho stretched his arm over his shoulder but Wayne had anticipated his move and hit him square in the chest with a jump kick. Zypho’s breath was audibly forced from his lungs as he was bowled backwards onto the ground. Wayne rolled to his feet and retreated.

  Zypho smiled as he stood to face them. “Well, there will be a little sport in this after all,” he said with a reassured look on his face.

  Suddenly the air around them trembled and a greenish tint swept into it like a cold front raging across the southern plains. Zypho looked around quickly as if to catch a glimpse of something moving close by. He looked back toward Wayne and standing between Zypho and the group was a Mantoid kneeling on the ground. “I thought you didn’t leave the tree house,” said Wayne.

  “Now is not the time to explain,” replied the Mantoid as he fixed Zypho firmly in his gaze. “Your intention is to do harm to these people,” said the Mantoid as he stood. “I was asked to watch over them. I can allow them no harm.” Mark marveled at how tall he was.

  “This does not concern you. Move aside,” jeered Zypho.

  The Mantoid’s response was calm and even, as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening, “I was asked to watch over them, he repeated, “I can allow them no harm.”

  “I’ll warn you just once more,” said Zypho who was showing signs of extreme agitation, “you are no match for me.” In one fluid motion Zypho shed his overcoat, reached over his shoulder and drew his Kitan bringing it forward in a fluid arch around his torso. “You won’t live to recall this encounter,” he said flatly.

  “I do not wish to harm you,” responded the Mantoid, “it has always been the Mantoid’s calling to serve others in the universe by helping them know peace; that is our greatest desire. The Mantoid took a step forward stretched his right arm behind his back and with a whisper of metal being drawn across wood, elegantly slid a Kitan from its sheath. Leave now and no harm will come to you.”

  “That is a fool talking. You might put your time to better use waiting tables Jantoid. My ancestors perfected the use of this blade and there is little hope for anyone who opposes a Centorian. When I am finished with you, I will go for them and my business here will be over.”

  The Mantoid bowed his head. “Such arrogance,” he sighed, “it perverts the heart and leads to selfish bloodshed. You have not listened to me Zypho, the Mantoids fought alongside your Centorian ancestors, we designed and helped fashion your blades, and we know their capabilities as well as yourselves.”

  “Yes you did, but you didn’t learn to wield them as we do, did you?” said Zypho. “We know the blade’s secrets better than anyone.”

  “My name is Paxim,” said the Mantoid, “you should always know your enemy’s name before you engage him. Go your way Zypho before you shame your ancestry, make a mockery of your training and forfeit your life.”

  “You should have stood aside,” said Zypho, “this encounter will be your last,” and he moved so quickly Wayne was sure Paxim had been caught off-guard. Zypho brought his blade precisely through the air in a split second intending to cleave Paxim’s neck. It seemed as if Paxim responded unwillingly and with a look of great sorrow the Mantoid’s Kitan was swung upward to meet Zypho’s blade, colliding with it a mere three centimeters from his neck. While his defensive move unfolded, Paxim had stretched his left arm behind his back. There was a whisper of metal on wood as he pulled the second Kitan from its sheath and brought it crashing down like lightening between Zypho’s ribs and through his heart. With a look of disbelief, Zypho looked up into the Mantoid’s face.

  “My name is Paxim, you should know your enemy’s name before you pass.” Paxim withdrew his blade and Zypho fell to the ground, dead.

  Everyone seemed to be frozen in place. The encounter happened so fast they were stunned. Paxim began to wipe his blade and looked like he had been forced to perform the most despicable act imaginable.

  “What should we do with him,” asked Mark.

  “Do nothing,” replied Paxim, “the Pickers will take care of his remains.” He then asked Mark what had transpired before his arrival. Then, behind them, there was a sound like something falling to the ground. They turned to find Sly poised to strike, holding a Centorian Kitan high in a perfect attack stance. Paxim slowly stooped and placed his swords on the ground.

  “Is everything alright Paxim?” he said simply as his eyes scanned his friends and came to rest on Zypho’s body; his sword still at the ready.

  “Your friends are unharmed,” returned Paxim. Without making even the slightest of sounds Sly quickly sheathed his sword, then stepped toward the group and asked Mark what had transpired.

  “How did you know to come here?” Blackie asked the Mantoid.

  “Mantoids see,” came the reply.

  “I don’t understand sir,” said Blackie.

  “You may call me Paxim, we have seen battle together this day; you may call me Paxim.”

  “I didn’t battle at all” said Blackie.

  “If you had not delayed Zypho those few minutes you and your friends would no longer breathe and live.” He paused for a few seconds and continued as he lifted his arms towards the sky, “We watch the stars blaze; we know their names and mark their changes. We see the planets as they move in their prescribed rounds, we see the solar wind and electromagnetic storms as they rage through space. We see trails of ion dust from one galaxy to another as jumpers seek the unfathomable reaches of our universes. We see the mixing zones of parallel plains and we are astute at predicting them a
nd using them to travel. Our eyes are uniquely suited to see all that happens in the Epsicron System and, if necessary, beyond. I saw you jump to Gavalkia.

  “Before Pfiepher Conrad arrived at the Tree House for his meeting I had informed Sly of the unfortunate events that embroiled you at the Hotel Phoenix. He asked if I would watch to see if you left and if you were followed. As I served Pfeipher blue glacier water I saw Zypho jump to Gavalkia. I assume that when a different waiter returned to his table, Sly must have known something was wrong, that I had left hurriedly with informing him of the circumstances, and so he traced me. There is more to Sly than you know.”

  “I’m glad you beat Sly here, he could have been hurt,” replied Blackie, “or worse.”

  “No,” said Paxim matter-of-factly, “had Sly arrived first, Zypho would have been dead before his sword cleared its sheath. I am proficient with a blade, but Sly is full blood Centorian, ten Mantoids armed with two swords each could not prevail against him.” Blackie looked at Sly visiting with Mark and wondered if Paxim was correct, he wondered just how much more there was to Sly than they knew.

  He thought for a moment and asked, “When we were at the Tree House you showed us a Centorian Kitan and said it was the most elegant weapon in the universe. Why did Sly ask about the Verdian laser sword?”

  “It was a poor attempt at humor,” responded Paxim.

  Behind them there was a sound of something softly falling to the ground. Before anyone else could move Sly had wheeled around to face the sound. There stood Pfeipher Conrad. “I had to go home to get this,” he said as he quickly surveyed the area, “looks like I’m late,” he finished as his eyes fell on Zypho sprawled on the ground. Pfeipher was holding a small laser weapon about 30 centimeters long, he slid his finger off the trigger, clicked a small button on the side of the gun and a small red light went out.

  “Not to rush you or anything,” said Pfeipher, “but the Pickers will be out and about soon. It might be wise for us to leave,” he offered, “and quickly.”

  “Yes,” said Sly, “there’s no reason to hurt any of them, we should go.”

  Mark looked at the group than back at Sly, “There is no way we can thank you enough, if you hadn’t asked Paxim to look after us,” and his voice trailed off.

  “That’s what friends do Mark, you would do the same for me, I know it,” responded Sly.

  “I need to thank Paxim, where is Paxim?” asked Mark.

  “He’s there,” said Blackie pointing down the switchbacks to a small flat area. Amelia, Wayne, Nita and Mark joined Blackie who had stepped closer to the edge of the small meadow. Below, they could see Paxim seemingly engulfed in a pocket of greenish air, unnaturally greenish. Not hail storm green but an odd sort of green that somehow signaled something unique was afoot. In that small flat area the yellow morning sunshine had gone and the blue sky just above it was smudged so that the blue wasn’t so blue; there was no storm, there was just that greenish tint. They could see two swords crossed behind his back, and then Paxim turned around, lifted his arm as if to say goodbye and the oddly greenish tint vanished. So did Paxim.

  “Man, that’s cool,” said Wayne.

  “Yeah, that really is,” said Amelia. Nita and Mark were staring at the spot where Paxim had disappeared just seconds before.

  “He controls it,” said Blackie. Sly had walked up behind the group so silently that when he spoke Nita was startled and literally jumped.

  “What did you say Blackie?” asked Sly.

  “He controls it,” said Blackie again but this time directly to Sly. “He controlled the mixing zone. That wasn’t just a random occurrence. I don’t think for a moment it was coincidental that Paxim showed up just at the right place when we needed his assistance,” said Blackie.

  “Well, a little more than assistance I think,” injected Nita, who had turned and was listening to their conversation.

  “And now,” continued Blackie without hesitation, “a mixing zone conveniently appears so he can leave. I’d be willing to bet a large amount of credits that Paxim materialized just out of sight near the Tree House. He’s probably walking to work this instant. “That’s the only logical conclusion.”

  “You say that a lot, you know that?” said Wayne who had also turned his attention to their conversation. Blackie continued to stare at Sly who now wore a broad grin.

  “Are you always this analytical,” Sly said to Blackie.

  “Yeah, it’s dreadful, he’s always been somewhat of a twit,” quipped Mark who couldn’t help but grin also.

  “He does, doesn’t he?” said Blackie, completely ignoring Wayne and Mark, “he controls the mixing zone doesn’t he.”

  “Come on Blackie, how could he possibly control a mixing zone,” said Amelia, “it appears to be a natural and random phenomenon.” Blackie continued to look at Sly with an expression that begged an answer.

  “Mantoids are very resourceful, extremely intelligent, devoted to the point of fanaticism, and very private beings,” said Sly. Everyone, including Pfeipher who had just joined the group on the edge of the meadow, was listening intently. “They are master swordsmen, but to look at them you would never guess,” continued Sly.

  “Well, I had the same thought about you,” commented Mark with another grin on his face.

  Sly gave a laugh like a bark and continued, “I have wondered about that same thing Blackie. On more than one occasion I have been in very grave circumstances and a Mantoid has stepped out of a mixing zone nearby to offer 'assistance´,” he nodded toward Nita, “on more than one occasion it has been Paxim. I respect the Mantoid’s desire for privacy, even secrecy, but I must admit I have strongly hinted to Paxim that it seems he can do more with mixing zones than just locate them and use them for random travel.”

  Blackie immediately asked, “And how did he respond.”

  Sly looked at Blackie, “Paxim said “it does appear that way,” and he said no more.”

  It was Pfeipher who broke the silence. “We really should be getting on,” said Pfeipher who was watching the edge of the meadow where the trail appeared.

  “Yes we should,” said Sly, “maybe it would be best for me to leave last.”

  Pfeipher holstered his weapon, stepped away from the group and replied, “Sly, you owe me a drink,” and he initiated his jump.

  Wayne and Amelia climbed in the front seat of the Nomad. Mark and Nita got in the back seat leaving the front passenger seat for Blackie who was standing near Sly.

  “You have good intuition,” Sly said to Blackie, “don’t be afraid to use it. Intuition has saved my life several times.”

  Blackie mulled over the words for a moment and responded, “I overheard Paxim say you are full blood Centorian; you seem to be involved in a lot more than meteor showers, underground restaurants and guitar stores.”

  Sly returned Blackie’s gaze and responded with a broad smile on his face, “It does seem that way doesn’t it.” A sound came from the switch backs below them. “You must go,” said Sly moving toward the Nomad.

  Blackie got in the front seat looking as if he were very much out-of-place and Amelia hit the Jump Starter button. Woosh came the sound, and then another and the Nomad had become enveloped in a bright white haze. The golden ring encircling the front of the car moved slowly toward the rear. They heard a wooshing sound as it passed. They saw Sly step away from the car. “Look,” yelled Wayne pointing to where the trail fed into the meadow. Six very large Pickers had reached the bit of flat ground and were walking toward the Nomad. Everyone in the car looked disturbed by what they saw. Then another ring formed around the front of the vehicle and glided toward the rear end. Woosh.

  “Why doesn’t he draw his sword?” yelled Mark. Then another ring formed, woosh, and another woosh.

  “They’re almost on him,” screamed Nita from the back seat. There was another woosh sound as a ring glided along the car from front to back. Faster they formed, woosh, woosh.

  “Sly,” yelled Mark, “Sly look out. Why
doesn’t he draw his sword?” Another golden ring raced by.

  “He doesn’t have to,” replied Blackie nonchalantly. As the Pickers approached Sly he turned sideways and greeted them. The Pickers began to speak to him as they came to a halt. Faster and faster rings formed until the rings began to blur as they flew across the car. Sly gestured toward the Nomad and turning toward them gave a big wink and a smile. They watched as Sly turned back toward the Pickers and one of them handed him a small bag. The rings were racing across the car. Faster they went until it looked like a constant blur going by, woosh, woosh, woosh.

  Realizing Sly wasn’t in danger Nita turned her attention to the jump sequence and became mesmerized by the steady stream of rings as they rifled by the passenger side rear window. “It’s so beautiful” she remarked.

  Blackie was looking across Amelia and Wayne at Sly conversing with the Pickers. Woosh, woosh the rings kept flying by. Amelia was looking at Wayne who sat behind the steering wheel with his left hand in the air. The rings were now appearing so fast that the wooshing sounds had given way to the sound of a gale force wind. Sly turned to look at the Nomad, Wayne made eye contact with him and mouthed the words “Hasta luego” while performing a quite small wave with just the fingers on his left hand.

  The white haze began to pulse with silver flashes that increased in intensity with each pulsation and the haze became more and more transparent, as did the car and everyone in it. Sensing what was imminent; Sly looked toward the car and mouthed the words, “see you again sometime,” and in an instant the car, its passenger and a substantial amount of neatly stacked music equipment vanished.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  GLADYS AND GLADYS

  Gladys Whittsner looked up into the sky above Zortian 7 and was overcome with a desire to travel. But how to get out there? That’s the key she mused? How indeed? Your typical transport at that time was good for cruising about the home place, but honestly, how far out there can you really get if your chariot only reaches an altitude of one half meter? The answer is invariably one half meter. In her memoirs Gladys discussed her thoughts about the percussion drive propulsion system and it seems she was not very impressed, not very impressed at all; in fact she was almost ungrateful actually. She conveyed her feelings on Page 38 as follows: Percussion drive is fine really, but by the time it could get me to Gengish Alludia I’d be 271 years old. Many have wondered why Gladys wanted to get to Gengish Alludia in the first place. It simply doesn’t seem to be the type of destination that sparks one’s creative juices does it? Nevertheless Gladys went to work on “a new blender” to use her exact words. All that particle induction rubbish seemed uncomfortably unstable to Gladys and she couldn’t imagine being halfway to Gengish Alludia and have to pull over and adjust nozzle apertures; not at 165 and a half years old (plus or minus two percent).