The Well of Forever: The Classic Sci-fi Adventure Continues (The Star Rim Empire Adventures Book 2)

by R. A. Nargi

  I had one more call to make, but it would be a lot tougher to find Chiraine Portelle. All I knew about her—pre-expedition—was that she was working for the Shima and was located less than a day away from Tor-Betree.

  My Nimbus had a ton of messages on it, transferred from my overlay, but none were from Ana-Zhi, so I ignored them all and just used the smartscreen to perform some rough travel calculations. In not too much time at all I came up with three possibilities: Savaust Base on Cernosis, Ganagara, or Ylpau Station. I turned Cece loose and let the AI work on locating Chiraine. While it did its thing, I decided to take a walk.

  My domus stood on the far western edge of New Torino, in the exclusive Loxton Wood district. At the end of my street stretched the kilometer-long Barrow Green park. Its wide boulevard lined with massive ancient ceaon trees and maze-like gardens made it my go-to place when I wanted to clear my mind.

  One of my favorite destinations within Barrow Green was the Loop, a manmade stream that ran in a big circle a hundred fifty meters around. It had a walking path around its outer edge with footbridges over the stream that led to the flower gardens that the stream encircled.

  Flowers bloomed for most of the year here, and the city’s botanists had selected genera that were especially fragrant. Today, the warm breeze served up scents of jasmine and frangipani.

  Before I had even made it a quarter way around the Loop, I decided to call my buddy Kane. He was blessed with a remarkable constitution and was usually the last one of us to succumb to the effects of drink or drugs. If anyone knew what had happened last night at my party, it would be Kane.

  When his face appeared on my overlay, I smiled at him. “What’s up, brother?” I asked.

  “Oh man, the dead walks.” He grinned at me. “I can’t believe you’re not in a coma right now. Did Mr. Jeris perform a liver transplant when you got home last night?”

  I laughed.

  “Did you even get home last night?” Kane asked.

  “Well, that’s why I’m calling. It seems that I misplaced some of my brain cells between last night and this morning.”

  “Not a surprise.”

  “And I was wondering if you could help me out with a little play-by-play.”

  “Oh boy. That could take some time. What do you remember?”

  “Nothing,” I said.

  It wasn’t exactly true. I remembered the Stones concert, the afterparty, and stumbling home with two women, Lir and her new friend Preity Kapoor. After that, it got a bit hazy, but I’m pretty sure that the girls carried on without me once I finally passed out. However, I wanted to hear what Kane remembered.

  Once he finished teasing me, Kane related the tale of my night of debauchery at the Golden Chimera, a floating casino on the east side of the city. Apparently, I hit the blackjack tables pretty hard (after trying to steal the casino’s mascot, a four-meter-long qymbr lizard). The good news was that I won big. The bad news was that I then lost big. And the worst news was that I tried to pimp Lir out to Trey Ackerman to settle my debt.

  “No way.” That didn’t sound like something I would do—even if I was wasted out of my mind.

  “You totally did,” he cackled.

  “How did she take it?”

  “How the fuck do you think she took it?”

  I didn’t want to even imagine that. Lirala Windsing had the quickest temper of anyone I knew, and the most easily-wounded pride. On her best days, if she imagined that I wasn’t respecting her—even for a second—she’d unleash an unholy tirade upon me. And she wouldn’t just use words as her weapons. Rage and fury would fuel physical attacks so vicious, she would put the most brutal street fighters of Balenol to shame.

  Last year, during a particularly bad argument, she nearly took out my left eye with her elegantly-painted, but long and knife-sharp fingernails. I spent ninety-six hours in critical care while the best doctors Beck Salvage could buy worked nonstop to prevent me from being permanently disfigured.

  Kane’s revelation made me unconsciously check to see if all my extremities were still intact—especially those between my legs.

  But I had no memory of the night at the casino. In fact, the last time I remembered being at the Chimera was for Delany Hartwell’s going away party. But that was a month ago.

  “So what happened?” I asked Kane.

  “You really don’t remember anything?”

  “I remember the concert, but nothing afterwards.”

  “It’s a little foggy for me too,” Kane said. “We were all pretty messed up. Lirala stormed out. She might have been with the new girl from Amravadi—”

  “Preity?”

  “I thought her name was Pretty.”

  “That’s just what Lir calls her,” I said.

  “So you do remember something.”

  “Yeah, I guess I do. I remember that. Anyway, go on.”

  “That’s basically it. They kicked us out when you and Ack started whaling on each other and busting up tables.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, didn’t I mention the fight?”

  “No.”

  “It wasn’t a big deal. He didn’t last long.”

  “Dynark’s blood! Was he okay?” I inspected my hands. The knuckles on my right hand were bruised and raw, but I wasn’t sure that meant anything. I had been in a bunch of fights, including pounding Qualt a few days ago and punching out Dr. Tarsch on the Baeder.

  “Yeah, he was fine. Hoedi pulled you off before you could do any real damage. But if it was me, I’d give Ackerman a call and smooth things over. His dad is some big shot lawyer. You don’t want them suing your ass or anything.”

  “Good idea.”

  We talked a bit more, but in Kane’s reality, it was July 2nd, and I had gotten messed up on my birthday. And there was nothing unusual about that.

  For a brief moment, I was tempted to tell him everything. After all, we’d been friends for a decade or more. But a nagging feeling in the back of my mind made me decide it wasn’t a good idea.

  “You want to go cave diving?” Kane asked.

  “When?”

  “This afternoon. Lucca said we’re coming up on the Tempest. We can take his redwing. I know we said we’d go tomorrow, but since you’re not too hungover…”

  Roughly once a year New Torino floated over a deep underwater chasm called the Tempest that I loved to dive in. My first reaction was to go. One hundred percent. But then I realized that I couldn’t just plunge back into my old life as if nothing had happened.

  Because something had happened.

  And I needed to figure out just what the hell was going on.

  18

  I ended up bailing on cave diving, but made some vague plans to hang with Kane tomorrow. Then I set off walking again. Walking and pondering.

  So now it wasn’t just Mr. Jeris who believed that it was July 2nd. It was Lirala and Kane. And while Kane’s description of what had happened on my birthday night didn’t match my own, it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility.

  Sure, I liked to gamble. And sometimes I lost. Big. And sure, Lirala and I got into fights. Big messy ones. While I doubted I’d be enough of a douchebag to offer her to Ack as payment for a debt, I couldn’t say for certain that it wouldn’t happen. Especially if I was super messed up.

  This was so weird.

  I was just about at the end of Barrow Green when I received an alert from my Nimbus. Cece had located Chiraine. I jogged back home, grabbed another cup of moxa, and set my overlay to what I called “Sean mode.” This was a special modification done by Beck Salvage to spoof comm ID signals so that it appeared that my overlay was actually Sean Beck’s overlay.

  I also spoofed myself by donning a slouch hat and my dad’s favorite canvas pilot’s jacket. It wouldn’t fool anyone sitting with me in person, but via overlay I’d look close enough to my dad. Especially when I dimmed the lights. Although I was hoping that Chiraine remembered me and would recognize me for who I actually was.

  I took a d
eep breath and placed the call.

  Chiraine’s face appeared on the overlay. Her red hair was pulled back and she wore a tailored suit. She looked very professional. “This is Dr. Portelle. How may I help you?”

  “Chiraine, it’s me. Beck.”

  “Yes, Mr. Beck. I gathered that from incoming ID. It’s an honor, sir.”

  My heart sank. She didn’t recognize me.

  “Are you calling about the equipment list? If so, I can save you some time. I sent it to someone on your team already.” Her eyes darted offscreen to check something. “Uh, to someone named Davotti.”

  I wasn’t sure what I was going to do now. Chiraine continued to ramble on about load-outs and data specifications. She sounded nervous.

  “Can I ask you something, Dr. Portelle?” I said abruptly. “Are you familiar with the rumor that the Fountain does not fully close in both directions?”

  “W-w-what?” she stuttered.

  “Based on research collected by your employer, it appears that one-way travel from the Nymorean system might be possible if the Fountain remains energized.”

  “I… I’m afraid that I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Beck,” she said quickly.

  “That’s okay.” I smiled at her. “We can discuss it once we are working together. Good day.”

  I broke the connection and rubbed my eyes. This was getting freakier and freakier and my brain was beginning to hurt.

  If Chiraine didn’t recognize me, I seriously doubted Ana-Zhi would. Where did that leave me?

  It was looking like possibility number one was the most likely. My memories were a dream. An elaborate dream. I didn’t go through the Fountain. I didn’t find my father. And I didn’t fight the Mayir.

  But I was still having a hard time believing that. No dream could be that detailed.

  And there was something else.

  How could I have dreamt about a fact that I didn’t already know? Three or four days ago, Chiraine had told me and Ana-Zhi of the secret Shima research that suggested that the Fountain remained operational on a one-way basis. That was one of the reasons we went to Roan Andessa. If this secret research was just a figment of my dreaming mind, why did Chiraine act like she had seen a ghost when I mentioned the research just now?

  This Chiraine might not remember me, but she knew about the secret research.

  I sprang up from the sofa and began to pace.

  What I needed to do was triangulate; I had to discover some more facts that I learned after my birthday. If I could do that, at the very least I could prove to myself that I wasn’t crazy.

  I started to wrack my brain, but I didn’t get very far. My Nimbus announced that I had visitors.

  Lirala blew into my hallway like a storm, shedding her scarf and riding jacket and striding right up to me with murder in her eyes.

  “You have a lot to answer for, Jannigan Beck.”

  “I know. I’m so sorry, Lir. Kane told me what I did, and—”

  “You shaved,” she said.

  “What?” My hand went to my face and felt a few-week-old stubble. More weirdness. I had a full beard on my birthday. Gemma had shaved it off—right before my meeting with the Shima—as part of the styling that made me look more like my father.

  “Nice try, but it’s not nearly enough,” Lirala said. Her large bright eyes still flashed with anger.

  “You have to understand. I never…” I trailed off.

  For the first time I noticed that there was another woman there, standing shyly by the front door. She wasn’t as tall as Lirala, but she had a softer body, and dusky skin that almost glowed. She wore a designer suit with the latest ruffed collar, and her golden blonde hair was artfully twisted into Terpsichore curls that barely reached her jawline. Definitely a high-end look, but from her body language, I could tell she was uncomfortable in the clothes.

  “You were saying?”

  “I’m sorry, Lir. Really sorry.”

  I fell to one knee. It wasn’t just for effect, either. In this weird timeline I really had tried to pimp my fiancée to settle a gambling debt.

  Seeing me in a submissive position definitely rang Lir’s bell. That much was clear.

  “Get up, you asshole. And fix us some drinks.”

  As I stood, Lir glanced back at the woman who still hung back in the doorway. “For Dynark’s sake, Pretty, get your ass over here. Jannigan, you remember Pretty, don’t you? Or were you too fucked up?”

  I nodded, finally recognizing her. “It’s actually Preity, isn’t it?”

  Her face brightened as she approached. “Yes. Preity Kapoor.” Our gazes locked, but I didn’t really see much recognition in her big brown eyes.

  “Well, I call her Pretty,” Lirala said, pulling the other girl close. “Because she’s delicious. Aren’t you?”

  Preity blushed.

  “Do you like her hair, Jannigan? It’s new. My design.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  In my memory, Preity looked different. She had long dark hair which fit with her tawny complexion and she was adorned with all manner of gold jewelry. But I remembered Preity saying that Lirala didn’t approve and was going to take her for a makeover. I guess this was the result.

  Lirala took Preity’s hand and pushed past me into the lounge. “Jannigan, I’m thinking I’m in the mood for some of that super expensive whisky you’ve been squirreling away.”

  “Not the Reserve…”

  “Yes. Doesn’t that seem like an appropriate drink to begin toasting your apologies with?”

  I smiled to myself. Here we go. The punishment was beginning.

  In a vault downstairs I had two bottles of Hinderwell Reserve ’87 single malt Scotch. They were over seventy years old and each one cost more than the annual income for an average middle-class family. Initially it was painful to think of actually drinking one of them, but it hit me. Why the hell not?

  “Be right back,” I said.

  “Do be quick,” Lirala said with a mock lightness. “We may get into some winkle dust as an appetizer.”

  Oh great. If Lirala started with winkle dust, no amount of alcohol would tame her. I had better hurry.

  On the lower level of my place was another parlor and a wine cellar, because—why not? And in the back of the wine cellar was a hidden door that led to a small two-meter by two-meter vault. I didn’t have a lot of valuables other than the Hinderwell, which was a gift from my uncle Wallace.

  He had bestowed three bottles upon me for my eighteenth birthday. I was supposed to drink one on my twentieth birthday (which I did), my thirtieth birthday (which I didn’t, because I was too messed up), and my fortieth birthday.

  One time when Lirala and I were having sex in the vault, I made the mistake of showing her the bottles. Of course, she wanted to get into them then and there, and it took a tremendous amount of effort (and the promise of a diamond anklet) for me to distract her.

  Oh well. Easy come, easy go.

  I took of one of the boxes which contained a bottle and opened it up to admire the label. The label was old school paper, not the tacky animaphics you see on every package of every product made since 2325. The letters were embossed into the paper with a deep, rich ink. But when I read the name on the label I almost dropped the bottle.

  It read Cinderwell Reserve ’87. Not Hinderwell.

  What the—?

  I quickly checked the other bottle. Same thing.

  This couldn’t be.

  The back label featured a hand-lettered code and also mentioned Cinderwell: This exquisite Single Highland Malt Scotch Whisky was distilled in 2287 (Cask No. 263) and bottled in 2330 by the Cinderwell Distillery, Isle of Arran, Scotland, UK, Earth.

  What the hell was going on? Had someone switched bottles as a prank?

  I quickly checked the contents of the vault, but everything else seemed to be in order.

  “Jannigan!” I heard Lir’s voice from right outside the wine cellar. “We’re getting really wired. Where the hell is that booze?�
��

  I grabbed the bottle and headed out, sealing the vault behind me.

  Lirala and Preity had wandered downstairs. From the wild look in their eyes, it was obvious that they had both partaken of the winkle dust.

  I steered them back out towards the stairs up to the parlor.

  “Wow, you have a pool!” Preity escaped from me and skipped over to the edge of the narrow hyaline bridge spanning my narrow lap pool. “Can we go swimming?”

  Lirala joined Preity on the bridge. “Maybe later, if you behave. Or misbehave.” She slapped Preity on her behind, and Preity playfully shoved her back.

  I could see where this was going. One or both of them would end up falling over the rail and tumbling into the water below. It was way too early in the evening for those kinds of shenanigans.

  “Let’s go back upstairs, ladies.” I hooked my arms in theirs and steered them back towards the parlor and then, grabbing the bottle of whisky, I headed back upstairs.

  “Your place is amazing,” Preity said. “You have so much artwork.”

  “Art’s boring,” Lirala scoffed. “Whisky is not. Let’s get that bottle open, darling.”

  I fetched us a trio of the special tulip-shaped glasses that my uncle had given me along with the whisky.

  “These glasses have lids?” Preity asked, lifting one of the glass caps.

  “Yes,” I said. “You’re supposed to swirl the whisky around and then put the cap on and leave it for a few minutes. That way the whisky aromas mix with the oxygen and it—”

  “Just pour, Jannigan. Let’s get this party started!” Lirala dabbed a fingerful of winkle dust from a crystal dish on my coffee table and popped her finger in her mouth. She left it in there while she eyed me lasciviously. “Want some?”

  “Uh, maybe in a bit.” I poured each of us a half glass of the Cinderwell, which was really Hinderwell unless I was going crazy.

  “Tell Preity how much this stuff costs,” Lirala said.

  “A lot. It was a gift from my uncle.”