I left the room and was greeted by Rulo. “Dean,” she said, “I want to come with you.”
We walked down the hall together. The others were waiting for me at the portal. We had a couple more stops before getting to Udoon.
“Why do you want to come?” I asked her. She stood a head taller than me, her arms twice the size of mine, with her skin’s armor wrapped around them.
“You clearly need some muscle around you,” she joked.
“I have Slate, and Denise. Don’t be fooled, she’s a tough cookie,” I said.
“Human tough and Keppe tough are two different things. I like you guys and wouldn’t want to see anything bad happen to you,” she said, showing a softer side than normal.
It would be good to have someone trustworthy from the Keppe there with me when I broke the news to the Kraski. “Fine. You can come, on one condition.”
“What?” she asked.
“You bring that cool minigun with you.”
____________
We arrived on the ice world, and the package we’d left there sat in the corner, near the exit. Slate activated the cart’s thrusters and used the remote to maneuver the folded room outside.
“So this is where we’re going to bring them?” Denise asked, looking skeptical behind her helmet’s face mask.
“This is it,” I replied.
Rulo was even more imposing in her spacesuit. It was black with gray squares over it; the helmet had a horn on the front, adding to the impressiveness of the display. I didn’t want to see her chasing after me on the surface.
“Where do we bring it?” Slate asked.
“Far enough from the portal,” I answered as we exited the tunnel and stood on the icy mountain. The last time I’d been here, Mary, Slate, and I had discovered the first clue to find the Theos, which turned out to be a trap set by the Iskios. It was only fitting I was setting my own trap on this planet now, only not the trap the others with me thought it was.
I shot the metal studs from the bottom of my feet to give me stability on the ice, and we started down toward the snow-covered open plains below.
Rivo hovered in her suit and used the built-in thrusters to survey the area before us as we kept moving ever lower. She met up with us an hour later, saying the path was clear. There were no surprises ahead.
Most of our trip was done with little talking. It was snowing heavily, and I felt exhausted as we trudged through heaps of the white powder, toward the middle of a valley a few miles away.
We’d been there for three hours when I stopped us. “This is good.”
“Finally. Dean, you sure like to commit to a plan,” Slate said, most of the joviality gone from his voice.
The sun started to go down, so we lit lanterns and set them out around us. We let the crates we were hauling lower to the cold ground, and I took over the controls, directing the robots to do their programming. They assembled the folded room that was made outside the Bhlat base in Egypt. Once it was done, we had an exact replica of the room where Lom would meet Kinca of the Kraski, with Karo in tow, on Udoon.
“The Empress better have good information, or we’ve just wasted a lot of time,” Denise said.
“I trust her,” I said, wishing I had more confidence in her sources.
Denise just nodded as we watched the last few pieces of the structure snap into place. When it was done, I entered into it, stepping through before anyone else. It looked just like the video feeds had. I listened for the sounds of the station and could hear them playing through the speakers in the walls and ceiling. If I didn’t know better, I wasn’t standing in the middle of an ice-covered planet; I was on that space station, hearing music from the bar down the corridor.
“Perfect,” I whispered to myself. Denise and Slate flanked me, and my tall friend smiled.
“All we need now is the portal,” Slate said.
“I’ll set it. Do you guys mind leaving? You’re tracking snow inside. We need this place clean.” I waved them back outside, and they left without arguing. My heart hammered in my chest as I went through the motions of setting the other side of the portal. I took one side out of my pocket and set it on the floor, but instead of activating it like they thought, I slipped it back in my suit. I counted to five and stood up, then exited the structure. “All set. When we get them to walk into the real room on Udoon, they’ll be sent here.”
We packed up our gear and started our three-hour slog back in the snow to the portal room. I hoped Slate would be able to forgive my deception when it was all over.
____________
“You guys carry on and procure our transportation. I need to make a quick stop on Bazarn. Rivo, do you mind coming with me?” I said from the portal room on the ice world. Slate knew something was up from my erratic behavior, but I could visibly see him accept it and move on. He trusted me, and it was good to know.
“I’m happy to help,” Rivo said.
“Who did Sarlun say to ask for?” Denise inquired.
“A woman named Cee-eight,” I replied. “Everything should be ready for us. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Rivo and I stepped away, and I heard Denise ask Slate if I was always this strange. Rulo glanced at me, a hint of worry on her face. Slate agreed that I was weird, and then they were gone, the white light flashing. One moment they were near the icon table, the next Rivo and I were alone.
“What’s on Bazarn?” Rivo asked as we stepped to the table.
“Regnig. I need you to get me access to him again.” I found the icon for Bazarn, and in seconds, we found ourselves back on Rivo’s world. She strode by the guards like they didn’t matter, and they let her by, giving me a staredown as we passed.
An hour later, we were back underground, down in the tunnel beneath the surface, where Regnig resided. The Alnod pilot sat still and didn’t speak a word as he landed on the perch where the secret library sat hidden from prying eyes. I didn’t have a lot of time and jogged to the door, knocking politely at first before banging impatiently after no one answered two minutes later.
Hold on, hold on. I heard the familiar bird man’s voice in my head and found myself grinning. Rivo must have heard it too, because she smiled beside me. We’d removed our helmets inside the transport ship; I took a deep breath of the stale inner world air and coughed lightly.
The door slid open and Regnig looked up at me. I didn’t expect you back so soon. I got your message.
“Can we come in?” I asked the two-foot-tall beaked being.
He waved a wingtip, gesturing us inside. I take it you found your mate?
“I did, thank you. She’s fine, and I’m now a father.” I stepped inside, and Rivo shut the door behind her. Large locking bolts slid shut automatically.
Regnig glanced back at me as he trotted down the hall and into the large open library. Something like a cross between relief and regret covered his expression.
I am glad for you. Now to what do I owe the pleasure of your company? Did you find the other you sought after? Regnig’s eyes looked at me with a glossy sheen over them.
“The Theos. Karo. I did.” I sat down and Rivo beside me. She openly stared around the room, as if seeking to soak up the image of the beautiful and sacred space to hold close in her memory at a later time.
Karo. How wondrous. They exist? Regnig propped himself up onto the short couch across from us and folded his wings over his small lap.
“They do. Or they did.” I set into an explanation of how they’d stored themselves in the portal stones, allowing for travel between worlds. We had a short discussion on the Balance of the universe, and I went over the events leading up to me knocking on his door.
That is a lot of information. Perhaps I shall write a book about you, Dean. Would that be acceptable?
“Sure, if you like. I’ll have to survive the next few days, but I’d be happy to talk more when it’s all done,” I said, not sure anyone would want to read a book about me. I humored him anyways.
Karo. You
have to get him back. I would love to speak with him as well. This is necessary for the library.
He had a good point. “Now that’s a story that needs to be told,” I agreed.
Your message asked me about someone else. What do you know of Fontem the Terellion?
“Nothing. That’s why I wanted to see you,” I told him.
He was a collector of fine antiquities. Some say he had a fascination with many things, but more than anything, he wanted to find a way back in time to be with his one true love.
I sat back, and Rivo leaned forward, knowing Regnig could weave a great tale if he was prompted.
“He was obsessed with time travel?” I asked, remembering what Crul had said about the young Polvertan, who’d been seeking the same thing. I kept that part to myself for the moment. “Go on, tell us.”
Fontem was born on Terell, a backwater world of no real importance. At least, not until he put it on the map. He grew up the son of a tree feller, like his father before him. He had no urge to follow in the family footsteps, and grew tired of the simple life living by a swamp, and cutting down trees to exchange the wood for food. Fontem longed for more adventure, so he left home at a very young age. Tales say he found the nearest city and snuck onto the first ship from space that landed there.
To him, space was the unknown: something he dreamt about but didn’t truly believe existed. When he saw his own world from a window, he nearly passed out. His life was changed, and his blood sang in excitement. He’d escaped his path and could seek his own fortune.
The ship’s captain found him among the supplies when they were unloading on a small space station, and he tried to capture Fontem, but the young boy snuck away, avoiding a life as a trade slave. He hid on the station until the captain left, but his perfect view of the world had changed.
“Is this a true story, or just something from your books?” Rivo asked Regnig.
You are Garo’s daughter, correct?
She nodded.
It’s from a book, but often, much truth comes from the words on the paper. Isn’t that right, Dean?
“I suppose that’s right,” I agreed, smiling at Rivo.
“What happened next?” Rivo asked the tiny bird man.
A Motrill trading vessel found the alien youth behind some crates in the common cargo bay of the station and took pity on him.
The Motrill. No wonder Pol knew about this Fontem character.
Regnig continued over my own thoughts. He was taken in, fed, and given a job. He stayed with the crew for a few years, until he was a man. You see, the Terellion were a different species. They were much like you two, bipedal and carbon-based, but a small percentage of them had a flaw in their genetics. They stopped aging when they reached maturity. This created complications for Fontem when he met his mate.
Rivo perked up. “How did he meet her?”
He’d been with the Motrill five years when they happened across another vessel. You see, many of these ships used trade slaves, those taken from worlds by smugglers of low morals. There was no one to police their behavior, and that wasn’t the lowest thing they often did.
This particular vessel had such slaves, and one was Terellion. A female. The most beautiful being young Fontem had ever laid eyes on.
I could tell where this was going and wanted to rush Regnig along. I didn’t have much time to sit and hear stories. He seemed to sense my mood and raised a small digit at the end of his wing, as if to calm me.
As you may guess, he had the Motrill trade for her life, though it cost them plenty. They traveled with the ship another two years, and she was eternally grateful to Fontem for saving her from the space pirates’ clutches. They fell in love, as you would expect two Terellions to do among nothing but other species.
They saved up and made some profitable deals, with the help of the Motrill, and bought a home on Bazarn before it was commercialized.
Rivo’s eyes all darted open wide. “Here?”
Here. Fontem started to collect things: some for trade, others for his growing personal collection. He didn’t age, though his love did. His collection of rare artifacts made him very rich, but as his wife got old over the years, he grew bitter. Bitter because they’d been unable to conceive, and bitter that he was so happy but would inevitably lose the love of his life.
Being wealthy changes things, and he had all his contacts search for anything that might help him. Years later, he heard of a time-travel device, but he’d heard of many over the decades. His wife died soon after, and he was lost in grief. When he came to, he searched high and low for this device, spending decades and decades traversing space to find it.
“What happened?” Rivo asked, obviously caught up in the story.
No one knows. His collection disappeared from Bazarn. One day it was in his house, the next the house was vacant, and no one ever laid eyes on Fontem again.
“Wow. Quite the story. Do you think he found a way to travel in time?” she asked, and Regnig shrugged his thin shoulders.
Who’s to say?
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’ve been to his collection…” I started to say, but Regnig shot out of his seat so fast, I thought he was having a heart attack.
What are you saying? Where?
I’d never seen the little man so excited before. “There’s a portal leading to a derelict ship that’s floating lifeless in space somewhere. On it is a room full of crates. A young Motrill man was there, looking for the same time-travel device you speak of. He didn’t find it.”
That’s because he didn’t know what he was looking for.
“And you do?” I asked.
I have a book. The seller claimed it was a code from Fontem’s private collection of antiquities. Since no one knew where the collection was hidden, I never thought it would prove to be of any value. It was interesting enough to me, though, because I’ve confirmed it was written by Fontem’s hand.
“Get the book. We’ll bring it with us,” I said.
“Bring it where?” Rivo asked.
“To the collection. I have the other half of a portal in my pocket that will take us there.”
Regnig, the keeper of the universe’s largest collection of information, fainted.
TWENTY-SEVEN
I set up the second piece of the portal device in a small room to the side of the library. As I pressed it open, a light emanated from it, expanding as it hit the ceiling and two side walls. It hummed and then went quiet.
This is it? This will take us to Fontem’s private collection? Regnig was still pale, but his eyes were wide with excitement.
“It should. At least, I hope it works properly. I haven’t tested this one,” I said.
“You first,” Rivo said with a grin.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I said and stepped through the invisible wall. My foot set down in the large storage room where we’d met Polvertan. It had been only months since I’d laid eyes inside the space, but it felt like much longer. Many of the crates sat open, pillaged by Rulo and the others as they went through Fontem’s prized possessions. There had to be a reason he’d gone to so much work to keep the assembled crates from anyone’s hands.
I walked forward as Regnig bumped into my legs, his small beak wide open. Rivo came next, her expression much the same.
It’s real. When I said you were a Recaster, I could tell you were important, but you amaze me still, young man. You found the Theos, stopped an ancient race’s plan for destroying the universe, and have now brought me to the famed antiquities collection of the one and only Fontem of Terell. Regnig’s thoughts were rushed and excited. He hobbled forward, setting his hands on a wooden crate.
These took him a lifetime to collect. Who would desecrate such a thing?
“The Keppe were with me. They were soldiers, looking for loot to bring to their admiral. They’re not unlike most races. They think of weapons before anything else,” I said, not faulting Rulo, Hectal, and Kimtra for taking what they had.
>
Regnig slid a small book out of his robe. It looked oversized in his little talons. Let’s begin.
We spent a few hours going over the book, referencing the catalog numbers in the manifest Pol had been searching through. Once we understood the code for the book, it became much easier. Most of it was interesting, but not what I was after.
I sat back, drinking some water from the small pack we’d brought along, when Rivo called my name.
“We found it. This has to be it. He went to great lengths to hide it among this other useless stuff,” Rivo said.
My heart raced, and I crossed the cluttered room, stepping over open crates lying across the floor like live land mines.
This is very dangerous. I’ve translated his last entry. Regnig ran a talon over the book’s parchment, carefully reading Fontem’s words. This is the last entry, for I have found my life’s work at an end. It is here. It exists. After all these years of loneliness, I will see her once again. Farewell.
Regnig didn’t have to tell us who “she” was. Fontem spent his life searching for a time-travel machine so he could relive his time with his wife.
“What of the other Fontem? The one from the former timeline?” I asked, unsure I wanted the answer.
That, I don’t know.
I looked over the handwriting, noticing the last phrase was rushed, written by an excited hand.
“Where is it?” I asked, scanning the small makeshift desk Rivo had created.
“Here,” she said, tapping a wooden box.
“This? It looks so small,” I said, holding the box in my hand. I flipped open the nondescript case – meant to keep it looking harmless, I suspected. Inside was an object the size of a wallet. It was clear, and when my finger touched it, the screen came to life. Colors swirled on it, and I set it back down, fearing I would somehow activate it and end up somewhere I didn’t want to be.
Careful. This is dangerous indeed. We do not understand the consequences of traveling in time. Do other times exist on separate timelines, or does something changed in the past affect our current reality? This has been a discussion of speculation for countless generations among the best philosophers out there. I’ve read many tomes on the subject.
The Survivors: Books 1-6 Page 126