WHEELS

by Lorijo Metz

  “Now, if you’ll both be quiet,” said Principal Provost, interrupting James’ musings, “time is short and I need to explain some things.”

  “Bewfordios—”

  “I said, quiet. I did not come here to save you.” Provost glared at Revolvos. “I came here to seek your help. The lives of all remaining Circanthians depend upon it.”

  James held his breath, almost, but not quite sure he was dreaming.

  “When you left Circanthos…” Provost paused. “By the way, James, the Professor and I are from another planet approximately twenty light years away. Now, as I was saying… When you left Circanthos, Professor, you set in motion a series of events predicted by the same book, the Circolar, which gave you the instructions for the cortext. Unfortunately, the predictions followed the instructions—”

  “So, what you’re trying to say,” Revolvos interjected, “is that I should have listened to you.”

  “Exactly!” Provost looked confused. “Did you…? Forgive me; I’m not sure I heard you correctly. Did you just admit I was—correct?”

  “I’m sure I never used that word,” said Revolvos.

  James’ head was throbbing. He hated conflict and was about ready to turn and walk into the time field when Provost sighed and continued, “Regardless, I believe your actions were somehow predestined. That being the case, there was nothing you could do. Several loonocks after you disappeared, we became aware of an individual, a human named H.G. Wells.”

  “H.G. Wells?” said James. “The author? Let me see…I believe H.G. Wells was my wife’s uncle. Great-great-uncle, that is. He disappeared on safari in 1895, one year before his sister Julianne married…” James’ voice trailed off. He felt dizzy. Oh, so very, very dizzy. “YOU!” James pointed at Revolvos. “She married you! You’re the one in the photo in our bathroom. Standing—NO, not standing, sitting. Oh my. That can’t be right. But it is, it is—you’re sitting in front of Julianne. Although, I don’t recall the name Revolvos in our family history.”

  “That’s because I went by the name Anderson. Bewfordios, do you have a headache?”

  Provost’s hand rose to his forehead. “My head does rather feel—”

  “Good, because I believe I can fill in the next part for you. You see Julianne’s brother, H.G. Wells, did not disappear on safari. That was only a cover story. He was caught in my portal. I should have guessed he’d end up on Circanthos. Is he still alive?”

  “Most unfortunately,” said Provost.

  James sank to the ground sitting cross-legged between the two aliens. “Alive,” he murmured. “How can that be? If you’re the same man from the picture, you must be at least—”

  “Two hundred and…oh it’s so difficult to remember these things after you hit the two hundred mark. Wouldn’t you agree B.R.?”

  Principal Provost’s face turned beet red. “Professor Revolvos is three hundred and thirty years old.” He smiled. “I will not be two hundred for several loonocks…uhhh, years.”

  “Holy cow!” exclaimed James, looking from one alien to the other and back again. Well, why not? Why shouldn’t aliens have longer lifespans? Aliens yes…but not H.G. Wells.

  James stood up. “You said my great-great…Georgianna’s Uncle Wells is alive?”

  Principal Provost looked at Revolvos rather sheepishly. “I hate to admit this, but you were right. I should have allowed James to walk into the time field. This has become much too complicated.”

  You’re telling me, thought James.

  Principal Provost sighed. “From what I have ascertained, it has to do with the atmosphere. It appears living on Circanthos extends one’s life by about triple what you’d expect here on Earth. On the other hand…” Principal Provost’s voice trailed off and he turned to stare at Revolvos rather intently.

  “What?” said James.

  “Well, I suspect that’s why Professor Revolvos looks so wretched.”

  “I beg your pardon!” snapped Revolvos.

  “Had he remained on Circanthos, Petré would have had at least a good twenty or more loonocks in him.”

  “I say!”

  James feared he was in for another round of bickering. He tried to block it out. Principal Provost was saying something about Revolvos having married Julianne, when suddenly he said something that made all the hairs on James’ neck stand up.

  “They had one child and so on, and finally we come four generations hence to McKenzie.”

  “What’s my daughter got to do with this?”

  Principal Provost sighed. “Haven’t you ever noticed anything different about your daughter?”

  Much like the time field, which he suddenly found himself standing in front of again—facing away from the aliens—time had suddenly stopped for James. Different?

  The vast space in front of James was perfectly still, running east, west and as far up as he could see, though Principal Provost had explained it extended a maximum of three, maybe, four hundred feet into the sky. The outer limits of Avondale resembled an enormous backdrop, a setting in a play; like a painting or photo, the element of time removed for the next, what had he said—year? It was beyond anything James had ever dreamed of inventing.

  But McKenzie—different?

  And, of course, they were right. A few days ago, he’d seen proof of it. He’d gone outside to call McKenzie in for the night and found her sitting in the front yard staring at their new van. A van that right before his eyes was somehow changing colors—from yellow to blue and back again. He’d tried to write it off as his mind playing tricks after a meal of his mother-in-law’s meatloaf and marmalade. But McKenzie had been there. At the time he’d wondered—no, the truth was, he’d sensed she’d noticed it too. She’d looked pale and, now in hindsight—guilty. Funny, at the time, he was so sure it was his mind playing tricks…but all along, it was hers.

  Different! Of course, she’s different!

  Moreover, the evidence had been there long before recent events. Evidence at her birth that he, a scientist, should have noticed. Should not have ignored. Yet, like all fathers, he’d wanted to believe his little girl was normal. And after the accident, the temperature fluctuations, the strange occurrences he and Georgianna had noticed over the years, they, well…they all disappeared.

  Or had they?

  James shook his head. Had grief over losing Georgianna blinded him? He’d tried to be a good father and yet, with the best half of his heart missing, his true love…. James sighed. I should have been a better father. Hopefully, there was still time.

  James studied Roony’s frozen form. He looked to where the dog was still hoisting its leg, and then he turned. “Yes,” he said. “I did notice something. I think…I believe McKenzie can manipulate matter.”

  “The human term we use for it is particle-weaving.” Principal Provost smiled. “Although, matter manipulation is more accurate. McKenzie is four generations removed from Professor Revolvos. Apparently, it takes four generations for the ability to integrate fully in a mixed union. All Circanthians can particle-weave. It is as natural to us as walking or breathing—”

  “Though to become truly proficient it requires practice,” said Revolvos.

  “But more important,” snapped Principal Provost, “and more pertinent to what I’m trying to tell both of you, it appears McKenzie is not simply an accident of nature.”

  “How dare you!”

  “Calm down, James. What I mean to say is that McKenzie’s existence, the very reason for her being—”

  “Save her parents!”

  “May I finish?”

  “Please,” said Revolvos. “I’d like to hear this.”

  “Go ahead,” mumbled James.

  “Very well. The Circolar predicted that should we build; or more specifically, use a cortext, events would unfold that would lead to the extinction of our people. However, it also predicted…well, noted rather, a being called the Corona-Soter, or Wheeled Warrior. A being, it seemed to indicate, who might change that future. Save us,
James. Moreover, that being, the Wheeled Warrior, our savior, I believe is your daughter.”

  “Whoa!” James had to sit down again. “Savior? McKenzie?”

  Beside him, Revolvos collapsed; or rather, deflated. “Extinction,” he mumbled. “And it’s all my fault. Had I not rushed into building my own cortext—”

  “Please, Professor, we haven’t time. What I haven’t told you is that H.G. Wells is also tied to our destiny. His arrival marked the beginning of the end for the Circanthians. Wells united the Tsendi against us and is slowly, methodically, taking over the entire planet.”

  “Wells?” James jumped up. “But he’s only a writer. An author of pop fiction, sci-fi and a book of war games—Oh crud—War Games!”

  “And now he’s the leader of the Tsendi. They have proclaimed him the Advitor, which, ironically, also means savior. And if we do not stop him…” Principal Provost looked exhausted. “If we do not stop him—more specifically, if McKenzie does not stop him—the Circanthians will soon be extinct.”

  “My McKenzie? Stop them?” James’ head may have felt as if it was in a cloud, but it was clear what he had to say next. “Principal Provost, my daughter may have been written about, even predicted in that book of yours, but she is only fourteen and will not be going anywhere. Especially, ‘anywhere’ out of this solar system!”

  Principal Provost did not respond. In fact, he looked pointedly away from James.

  And that’s when James knew something worse—something he was not going to like—was yet to come. “Where is my daughter?”

  “Approximately seven hours ago McKenzie and her friend, Rudy Hayes, accessed the return portal in my office and are at this very moment, in all probability, on Circanthos.”

  James stumbled backwards. “McKenzie! My daughter on another planet. Alone…WITH THAT BOY!!!”

  “And hopefully with my good and trusted friend Pietas.”

  James had never felt so helpless. This must be a joke. He looked at the two strange old men. He looked at their spheres. He looked at the time field. Then at Roony.

  Not a joke, he thought—a nightmare!

  Chapter 35

  Excerpt from the personal log of Agent Wink Krumm

  Tuesday, March 17th

  Just outside Avondale

  I am beginning to sense something larger than a simple alien phenomenon. Based on information I discovered in several documents, including a diary found in the old alien’s suitcase, Professor R., a.k.a. Petré T. Revolvos, a.k.a. Peter Anderson (and who knows how many other aliases), arrived on Earth over one hundred years ago and, over time, gained enormous power and wealth while remaining, curiously, anonymous.

  ***

  …& TAGALONGS

  Monday, March 16th

  Earth

  “You sent my great-great granddaughter to Circanthos alone? Whose brilliant idea was that?”

  James Wu sat on the ground, head in hands, trying to sort out the muddle he called his mind. How in the world—Good God!—the entire universe, was he going to save his daughter?

  “What is this return portal you speak of?” said Revolvos.

  “Had you translated the rest of the Circolar, you would have known the pinicolis is a device that holds the portal open for return trips. Had you brought one along, you would have been able to return home.” Principal Provost sighed very loudly, “Unfortunately, McKenzie located mine and accessed it before I could intervene.”

  “But certainly the girl knows—”

  “She knows nothing! McKenzie believes, or perhaps I should say believed, that I am human. She was in my office waiting to be disciplined.”

  “Disciplined?” James looked up. “For what?”

  “You’re saying the girl has no idea of her destiny?” said Revolvos.

  “I was on my way to explain everything when—”

  “And now you’re stranded here, like me,” Revolvos snapped. “They should have sent Pietas.”

  “Pietas would not have survived.”

  “Exactly,” said Revolvos. “And in fact, if my calculations are correct, there is an equally good probability Pietas, who is indeed several loonocks older than me, has passed on; and therefore, McKenzie and that boy are at the mercy of H.G. Wells!”

  “I tried to warn—”

  “Bewfordios, you’re one very lucky cir to have found me.”

  James looked from one alien to the other. He couldn’t talk. He couldn’t breathe. My baby! My daughter! McKenzie!

  “Thank Concentric for my cortext,” said Revolvos. “We’ll use it to return home and save the Circanthians.”

  James stood up. He was tired of being a spectator. “I’m going with you!”

  “Absolutely not! I will not have another human life on my hands.” Principal Provost blushed, having realized, perhaps, the implications of what he’d just said. “I didn’t mean…”

  “McKenzie is my daughter.” James threw his shoulders back, making the most out of his full six foot, two and half inch human frame. “She is mine to protect.”

  “Now James, let’s be reasonable.” Principal Provost had the gall to sound slightly irritated. “Someone has to stay here and—”

  “And what? Tell the media that aliens have stopped time and kidnapped my daughter!”

  “I did not kidnap McKenzie! Your daughter was sent to my office because she is operating under the misconception that racing down the middle of the school hallway is appropriate behavior.”

  “I told McKenzie to stay away from that boy.”

  “From what I know of your daughter, Mr. Wu, Rudy Hayes would be better off staying away from her.”

  “THAT’S IT!” James’ fists went up and before he knew it, he was face to face with McKenzie’s principal. “No one, in any solar system, insults my daughter! McKenzie, as you so recently pointed out, PRINCIPAL Provost, is the only hope for your people. I always knew McKenzie was—”

  “STOP! Both of you!” Professor Revolvos had somehow inserted himself between them. “I’m the elder here so…stand back, both of you. Besides, it is quite clear that if not for me…” Revolvos hesitated, seeming to lose a bit of his stature, “we would not be in this predicament. Therefore, if anyone is going to make decisions, it WILL be me.” He looked James squarely in the eye and pointed to the van.

  “Inside that van is my suitcase. Inside the suitcase is a file containing certain business documents and, more important, my Last Will and Testament. After I leave, you and that gentleman over there…” Revolvos pointed to Roony, “are to be the sole inheritors of all my wealth; which, as it happens, includes several large companies in the United States and abroad.”

  James’ mouth dropped open. “Me? Owner? Companies?”

  “Roony will handle the overseas operations, which you will then inherit upon his death. In addition, there is a small, leather-bound diary I’d like you to give to your daughter. I’m sure Julianne would want her to have it.”

  “But McKenzie—”

  “As soon as Bewfordios and I can arrange it, we will return McKenzie to Earth. As your great grandfather-in-law, you have my word.” Revolvos reached out to shake James’ hand.

  And before James could stop himself, he was shaking hands with his great grandfather-in-law.

  “Right,” said Revolvos. “In the meantime, we have one last task for you.”

  “We do?” said Principal Provost sounding a bit putout.

  “Of course,” said Revolvos. “As the cortext cannot travel with us, I shall commend it into James’ trusty hands. No human, with the exception of McKenzie, will be able to use it anyway. Of course, with this in mind, James, I fully expect you to keep it away from your daughter. There’s no telling where the girl could end up should she try to use it.”

  “I don’t think—”

  Revolvos shushed James and turned to Principal Provost. “Don’t worry. I got our people into this mess; I’ll get them out. No mere book is going to determine our future; and besides, one human can’t be that d
ifficult to deal with. Especially a writer.”

  “Over a hundred loonocks and nothing’s changed,” murmured Principal Provost.

  “What are you mumbling about?”

  “Nothing. Nothing at all.” Provost sighed. “I believe it is time to go.” He reached up and gave his eyebrow one last sincere rub. “Since McKenzie would not have known how to weave a bubble of present time around Hayes, I shall assume that all one needs to do is—hold on.”

  “And as my particle-weaving abilities are probably a bit rusty,” said Revolvos, “I’ll do the holding and you do the weaving.”

  “Fair enough.” Principal Provost removed something from his pocket.

  “My cortext,” murmured James.

  “There’s a pile of cement blocks over there.” Principal Provost pointed just west of the road. “One of those should do as a pedestal. James, you stay put. After we depart, you will collect the cortext.”

  “Now see here, I haven’t agreed—” But the two aliens had already taken off.

  Principal Provost placed the cortext on the tallest of the blocks, motioned Revolvos to hold on, took a deep breath and placed his left hand on top of the device that James had built.

  “You’re shaking,” James heard Revolvos say. “Perhaps I should take over?”

  “Certainly not!” snapped Principal Provost. “Just, stay close. Better yet, hold on.”

  As James looked on, an area of about two feet on either side of the Circanthians took on the appearance of an aging photo, crackling and creasing and, very quickly, twirling into a billion pieces. At length disintegrating into bits so small, they reminded him of sand. Particles of rocks, grass, air (Was that a bird?) lost their shape. Everything spinning and rotating, coalescing into a funnel of molecules which began streaming into a hole—a portal into the universe.