Inspired by this photo by permission of the estate of H.H.J. Barkshire

Percival Cedric Pierce-MacDonald stood hunched over his workbench, making the last-minute adjustments to the object sitting there. It was an odd gizmo, about the size of a young child’s shoe, and just over one inch thick. He made the last adjustment and put down the tool, straightened and stretched, easing the ache in his back.

‘Well, it’s done,’ he thought. ‘I think before I try it, I’d better take an hour or so to rest and eat.’ Covering his invention, he turned and went upstairs to the kitchen. Making himself a sandwich and a cup of tea, he moved to the sitting room and settled in an easy chair. Munching and sipping, he thought about what he was about to do. ‘I guess I really should leave a note for the housekeeper, otherwise she’ll panic and call the police, and my family, and get them all upset. And if I’m going to be gone for some time in the here and now, I’d best pack my camping gear. I may need food and water and not be able to use what is available in whatever time I end up in. I think I’ll wear my sturdy camping clothes and boots, too. And take along a medicine kit. Since I have no idea what I will face, it’s best to be prepared for anything.’

Finishing his lunch, he took the dishes to the kitchen, rinsed and put them to drain. Then he dug out his camping gear, went to his room and changed, and back to the kitchen to gather food that would stay edible for a long period. Filling four water canteens, he attached them to his belt. Gathering the bundle of tent, bedroll, and other camping gear, he went down to the basement. He picked up the little box he had made and put it in his breast pocket.

When he was about to leave the house, he thought ‘I don’t know what the weather might be where I arrive’, he opened the bundle with the tent and bed roll, and put in cold weather clothing, and a Mac and rain hat. With that closed again, the note for Mrs. Kennedy prominently displayed on the mantel piece, he was ready to go.

As he stepped outside, a voice hailed him. “Hello, PC, going camping? Looks like you plan on staying for a while!” Doctor George Parson (GP to his friends) laughed.

“Yes, GP, I’m off for a while, don’t know how long, so I’ve prepared for a long stay. Tell the others for me, will you? I’ve left a note for the housekeeper, but you’ll be seeing them before she does.”

“Sure thing, PC. I hope you have a good time. If you discover anything new, tell us about it when you come back.”

With a nod and a wave, PC got out his bicycle and rode off down the street. He was heading for the country where he wouldn’t be seen when he set his gadget. It wouldn’t do to disappear in front of someone. He chuckled, thinking of the reaction if he was seen.

An hour later, he was standing on a deserted country road, far from any buildings.

Taking the box out of his pocket, he opened the front, adjusted the settings, and paused. He had set for the year 1917. Would that be different enough to be sure his time machine worked? Given the changes since the turn of the century, he thought it would. ‘Well, here goes,’ he thought as he pushed the button. Once more, the road was deserted.

Moments in Time – part 2

P.C. stepped into the middle of the road, and looked around. He noticed that London seemed closer than it had been. Suddenly, he heard a lot of shouting, and horns honking. He turned his head and saw a car bearing down on him, one man in the front and one in the back standing, shaking their fist and yelling. He had no time to try to figure out what they were shouting; they were too close. He dropped his bicycle and dove for the ditch.

Gravel flew as the car stopped, with other vehicles behind honking horns and breaking. Men jumped out and ran toward him. Groggily he climbed to his feet, staring. They were all in uniform and armed. He started to brush himself off, and saw that his shirt was torn on one sleeve, and his hands and part of one arm were grazed. When he put his hand up to touch a sore spot on his forehead, it came away bloody.

“What..?” he mumbled, and was suddenly grabbed by both arms. He winced and tried to pull his sore arm away with a muttered “ow!” He was pulled back onto the road, and found himself facing what appeared to be an army officer.

“Who are you, and where did you pop up from?” the officer snapped. “Speak up! Were you spying in the ditch?”

“Spying? Uh … I was just resting, and stood up to look around, to see where I was. I’m heading out for a bicycle tour, to get away from the city for a while. Why would I be spying?”

“We can’t be too careful. Some of the Krauts can speak English fluently, and have lived here for years. But they spy, and report back with hidden radios. You are blonde, fair skinned and blue eyed. You could be one. For now, you are a prisoner of war.”

The Captain turned to the men holding P.C. “Tie his hands and put him in the car. Tend to his injuries first.” He tuned to the rest of the soldiers, waving his hand. “Take that bicycle and put it in the back seat of the Lieutenant’s car, and get back in the truck. We have to move on, or I’ll be late.”

Everyone scrambled to obey orders. The two holding P.C. did as directed and patched him up, tied his hands and settled him in the front passenger seat. One looked at his gear, and then set it in front of him. “Sorry, chum, but there’s no place else to put it. Grip it with your fingers; that should keep it from doing more damage to your face. The drive will get bumpy. We’ll have to drive fast so the Captain won’t be late for his meeting.”

P.C. did as the private suggested, taking hold of one of the straps. He lowered his head so that his forehead rested on the top. ‘Good,’ he thought. ‘Once we’re on the way, I can reset the time machine. Good thing I made it look like a cigarette holder, they just ignored it. I’d have hated to have to try to explain it.’ He chuckled inwardly at the thought.

Soon they were heading for London, going fast. He snuck a look at the speedometer, and gasped. They were hitting thirty-five miles an hour! That was incredible – and dangerous. He slipped the time machine out of his pocket and set to work. It wasn’t easy, with his hands tied, and the car bumping and swaying, but at last, he had it set. 1905, June tenth, one week after he left, and the location in his basement work room. He pushed the stud. The right passenger seat was empty.

He staggered, and fell to the floor. “Whoosh! he exclaimed. “I’m going to have some great bruises on my derriere; first I land on hard dirt, then on concrete.” Painfully, he climbed to his feet, put the time machine on the work bench, picked up the gear and climbed the stairs. At the top, he put his ear to the door and listened. Not a sound came through.

Cautiously, he opened the door and peeked out. He heard faint music, looked at his watch, and sighed with relief. Mrs. Kennedy was having her afternoon cuppa and rest. He slipped his boots off, closed the door quietly, and went to the front hall. He slipped the gear in the closet, put his boots back on, opened the front door then shut it noisily and walked into the sitting room. When Mrs. Kennedy came rushing in, he was sitting in an easy chair, looking exhausted and disheveled.

“Oh, sir, whatever happened? Why, you have been injured! Do you need a doctor?” She was ringing her hands, hovering near the doorway.

“I had an accident. The bicycle was ruined, so I just left it where it was. I hit a pothole, and went flying, landed in a ditch. I’m all right, just some bumps and bruises, a little cut on my head. I took care of them, and caught a ride with a farmer back to the city, and got a cab home. All I need is a bath and some rest.” He heaved himself to his feet. “Perhaps you could get a cup of tea ready for me while I go and clean up. Then you can go finish your rest, while I call G.P. He can come and look me over while we talk.”

Moments in Time – part 3

June 3, 1917 on a country road outside London.

“What the?!” Corporal Smith’s arms jerked in shock and the car swerved. He quickly brought it under control, as he heard shocked shouts from the Sergeant and Captain in the back seat. “He’s gone, sir!” Corporal Smith exclaimed. “How did he manage that? Where’d he go?”

Captain Mason sat staring at the empty seat in front of Sergeant Kennedy, wondering the same thing. “It’s impossible. People don’t appear out of thin air, and disappear back into it again!” He looked at the sergeant and the corporal. “You both saw him, you held his arms, treated his wounds, and tied his wrists. Did you not do a good job with that?”

“Sir, we did. I checked the cords myself, and they were tied securely. There is no way he could have got them off. And he didn’t jump out of the car, the door is still closed. He didn’t move, I swear, I was looking at him all the time. All he did was rest his head on the top of his gear.” Sergeant Kennedy’s voice was firm, but with an undertone of bewilderment, as he shook his head.

Captain Mason sat in silence for a moment. “We will say nothing. We’ll make no report, and Sergeant, you can see that the wrecked bicycle is quietly disposed of. Anyone who speaks of this will do the dirtiest kp jobs I can find. Be sure they know. Now, let’s get back to London, I have a meeting to attend.

London, June 10, 1905, the home of Percival Cedric Pierce-MacDonald, evening.

“Well, chaps, what do you think of my tale? War with Germany in 1917, and it had been going at least one year. That was all I was able to find out. Frankly, that was all I wanted to find out. I don’t intend to go time hopping into battles and wars.” P.C. leaned back in his chair, eying the others, and taking a sip of his drink.

“You have certainly given us food for thought,” Digsby ‘Digger’ O’Neil, Archeologist, said.

“How old will we be in 1917? I’ll be thirty-seven, so I probably won’t be called up. P.C., you’ll be in your thirties, too, but with your genius in engineering and such, you would likely be tapped for war work – weapons and such.”

“Yes, and young Jimbo here will be thirty. And with his talents in repairs and upkeep on automobiles, he would probably be roped into the cavalry.” G.P. added. “I’m the oldest, but my experience with wounds caused by firearms, even though I’ll be in my forties, I’ll likely be sent to a military hospital. It’s not something any of us can really be happy about. But since we have the warning ahead of time, we can prepare with extra training.” He sighed, and drew on his cigar.

For a little while there was silence, then P.C. said “One thing I know, I will not go forward again. Who knows how that war will turn out? Or how many more there will be this century? I’m going back in time, and picking my arrival very carefully.”

“Do you have any thoughts on that?” Digger asked.

“Yes, in fact I have. I’ve been looking at old copies of newspapers at the Museum for ideas. I’m going back to April 3rd, 1880. I’m going to attend the first performance in this country of Gilbert and Sullivan’s ‘Pirates of Penzance’.” He sat back with a grin, waiting for their reactions.

“Trust P.C. Mac to go for something like that.” Jimbo said. “How many times have you seen that one already?”

“Six – but this time will be the first time ever that it was shown here. I might even see Gilbert and Sullivan! Think of it!” His eyes sparkled with excitement. “Of course, I’ll set the time of arrival at least a week early, maybe March twenty first. That’ll give me time to find a place to stay, and get a ticket. I’ve already got clothes of that time. I’ll be leaving on Saturday. G.P., will you keep an eye on things here for me? Mrs. Kennedy will take care of the mail and such, but I’d feel better if she had someone to turn to in case of a problem.”

“Of course, P.C., let her know I’m on call for her any time. Unless something dire happens to a patient, I don’t expect any urgent calls.” G.P. held out his hand. “Shake on it, friend. Go and enjoy yourself, and come back and tell us all about it.”

Shortly after that the visitors said goodnight and left. P.C. sat for a little while longer, thinking, then headed off to bed. Saturday came, and so did his friends. He was dressed in high 1880s style, and they all commented on how well it suited him. Then they shook hands all ‘round, stepped back, and waited. P.C. took the time machine out of his pocket, checked the settings, smiled and nodded, pressed the stud, and was gone.

“That is eerie!” Jimbo exclaimed. The others nodded. It was indeed.

P.C. looked around. He had set his arrival spot in a secluded place in Kensington Gardens. It was twilight, and quiet. Lifting his carpet bag, he headed for the nearest exit. He intended to stay at the Bentley Hotel, at 27-33 Harrington Gardens in south Kensington. Reaching the street, he flagged down a passing brougham, gave the cabby directions, and settled down to enjoy the ride.

All in all, his venture into the past was a huge success. He did some shopping, finding unusual gifts for his friends, and a lovely tea cup and saucer for Mrs. Kennedy. And the performance of the Prates exceeded his expectations. And best of all, he not only saw Gilbert and Sullivan, he got them to sign his copy of the program. He was almost reluctant the following day to go home. He gazed avidly at the streets and people as he rode back to Kensington Gardens. At last he was back in the secluded spot where he had arrived. Taking out his time machine, he took one last look around, and pressed the stud.

Moments in Time – part 4

London England, September 15th, 1905, Same location.

“Well, P.C., here we all are again. What are your big plans this time? Something a bit more exciting than last, I do hope!” G.P. laughed.

“I think so,” Percival Cedric replied. “There is some question, even nine hundred years later, about the death of King William 11, William Rufus. I am going back to August 2nd, 1100 AD, and see if I can find out. Was his death an accident, or murder, and if murder, was it planned by his younger brother Henry, who took the throne immediately, becoming Henry 1?

“I’m going to go back to that time, get to the New Forest before the royal party, and follow William. I have had clothes made so I will blend in, in that era – as a game keeper. That gives me a legitimate reason for being in the forest. I plan on stalking William, so my clothes will blend in with the background. Maybe I can solve the mystery. I’m taking a Brownie Box camera with me; I may be able to shoot a picture of what happened. Think of it! The historians would go wild.” He chuckled, eyes sparkling.

“Well, if you come back with an arrow in your shoulder or elsewhere, I can do something about it. But what are we to tell everyone, especially Scotland Yard, if you don’t come back?” G. Ps voice was serious, and he was frowning.

“I thought of that, and have written a statement telling all my plans. My barrister has it, to be opened in the event that I am gone for two months without sending word. He and I both signed the sealed envelope, witnessed by his secretary and a clerk. So, no worries for you chaps, though I expect you will, anyway. I don’t think there is any danger, though.” He sat back, relaxed and confident.

“All right,” Digger said. “I don’t like the idea, though. If you blend in with the scenery, what’s to keep someone from shooting you by accident, or a stray arrow finding you? We certainly will worry, but it’s your life to risk as you choose. I think you’re mad.” Digger smiled slightly, and nodded.

“Well, you’ve all been to circuses and such, and seen sword swallowers, fire eaters, tight rope walkers and so on. People take risks all the time, but, like those folks, I will take all the precautions I can. I could be run over by an automobile or a runaway horse next time I go out. Life can be risky, and I have this planned as carefully as possible.” P.C. stopped and waited.

G.P sighed and nodded. “All right, you are correct, you seem to have taken everything you can into consideration. I’ll keep an eye on things here. When do you plan on getting back?”

“I’m going to July 23rd, 1100, the death was August 2nd, so I’m setting my return for the workshop one week from today.”

“In that case, why don’t we go to the basement and see you off?” G.P. said.

“Right. You chaps head down, I’ll change and meet you down there.”

Fifteen minutes later, P.C. walked down the stairs clad in his Game Keeper’s garb. He wore a knee length green tunic, patchy in colour because of a poor dye job, with a matching floppy, flat hat over shoulder length dark hair. His skin was darker, too.

There were leather coverings on his bare feet and lower legs, held in place by cords made of deer gut. Over his left shoulder, he carried a long bow, with a quiver of arrows hanging on the right from a rope around his waist. Tucked into the rope was a long, hilted knife, and he had a large club in his right hand.

The rest of his gear was in a wool satchel worn over his head and hanging down the left side. His time machine was in a hidden pocket in his tunic. He was wearing short linen drawers under the tunic. That wasn’t strictly in line with what he was supposed to be, but was a concession to his modesty.

“Well?” he asked, as he stopped and struck a pose. “What do you think?”

The others gazed at his silently for a moment, then Jimbo started laughing. “You look just like the pictures I’ve seen. But how did you get your hair to grow so long, and so dark? And what did you do to your eyebrows, and your skin?”

“A wig, and some hair dye, like the ladies use to hide the grey. I used it on my beard, too. And some walnut juice darkens the skin nicely. It makes quite a difference, doesn’t it?”

“It does!” Jimbo exclaimed. The others all nodded and murmured agreement.

“Fine, then. It’s time for me to go. All ready?” when they all nodded, he checked the setting, said “Goodbye, see you in August.” Pushed the stud, and was gone.

Moments in Time – Part 5 –

“mph!” P.C. staggered and grabbed at something for support. His hand struck a hard, rough surface, and he opened his eyes to see a tree trunk only a few inches from his nose. “Boy, that was close,” he mumbled. He stepped back, and heard a stifled gasp behind him. Turning, he saw a young man, dressed as he was, in green Game Keeper’s garb. The youth’s was dirty and tattered. He was dirty, his straw coloured hair matted with dirt, grease and bits of twig and dry grass. He stood staring, wide eyed and mouth agape.

“Hello, young fellow, who are you?” P. C. felt it wise to take the initiative and keep the boy off balance.

“M-m-my name is Barda, s-s-sir,” the lad stammered, still staring wide eyed. “S-s-sir, are you a Mage? You just appeared from nowhere!” he hunched his shoulders, as though expecting to be beaten.

“Um – yes, I am. Where is the Forester?”

“Gone, sir – he had the flux, and died. I got the priest and he was buried. I’m – I was his ‘prentice, sir. I’ve been trying to look after the forest, sir, but I’ve only been ‘prenticing for four years, sir.”

“Ah, too bad, I was looking to meet him. However, I have come to inspect things so you can take his place. If I am pleased, I will tell the Reeve, and you may become the Forester. I can’t promise, but I will put in a good word. But first, you must help me, and tell no one. I must not be known to be here. Will you do as I say exactly as I say and keep my presence secret?”

Barda nodded, “Yes sir, I will!”

“First, then take me to his home – you and I will stay there until my job here is done.”

Barda led off through the forest and soon they came to a small house, its stone walls and thatched roof almost hidden by the growth around it. Nearby a spring bubbled, flowing clear and cold into a stone lined bowl. The water overflowed and ran off in a small stream into the underbrush.

By the time the important day arrived, P.C. had awed Barda many times. First, because he had insisted on a thorough cleaning of the house, and had liberally sprinkled powders to kill the fleas. Then, much to Barda’s amazement, he had bathed. Not once, but every day! And made Barda bathe, too. And he’d provided Barda with a clean tunic in much better repair than his old one. Barda was totally convinced that this big man was a Mage. Only a Mage would do all of those strange things.

Early in the morning on August second, P.C. gave Barda his orders. “You are to go to where the Royal party will enter the forest, and follow them. Make certain that you are not seen! Remember that! Just follow, and stay with Prince Henry, no matter who might leave him. I will stay where I can see the tree where I arrived.

“When Prince Henry leaves the forest, come to me and let me know. Again, you must be quiet, and unseen. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Master, I understand. I will watch, follow and be hidden, and come to you when the Prince leaves the forest. I can move very quietly, I had to learn so as not to frighten the animals.” His face echoed the earnestness of his voice as he looked up at P.C.

“Right, then, off with you.” P. C. watched as Barda slipped away. The lad was right, he could move very quietly. ‘I only hope I can do as well,’ P.C. thought.

Some hours later, P.C. heard the faint sounds of men shouting and dogs barking. ‘Hmm…sounds like royalty has arrived. I hope William the red doesn’t hang around too long. This is getting boring – and uncomfortable.’ He was crouched in a small grove of young trees, where he could see around him, and, he fervently hoped, couldn’t be seen. Still, it was at least another two hours before William and his close friend Walter Tirel, Lord of Poix (pwah) came near, stalking a huge stag.

“Well, Walter,” William breathed, “if we are going to get him, now’s the time. Go you around to his other side. If I miss, you shoot.”

“Yes, Sire,” Walter’s voice was as soft as the King’s, and he slipped quietly away. Soon P.C. could see a slight movement from behind a large tree about a bow shot away, and a flash of red. Walter was in place.

William raised his bow, took aim, and fired. From his hiding place, P.C. was quietly snapping pictures, and watching the action. William’s arrow few true, and hit, but only wounded the stag. It threw its head up, snorted, and started to move just as he heard the twang of Walter’s shot. But this arrow missed the stag, and flew right to William’s chest. William only had time to gasp, then he fell, to lie wounded and bleeding under the huge oak tree.

Walter moved out from cover, and moved softly closer, stopping out of William’s sight. He looked at the king for a long moment, and whispered “now I can return to my estates with enough coin to repair the manor, and live comfortably.” He nodded, turned away, and disappeared. P.C. had taken a picture of him as he stood there, a look of sorrow and satisfaction on his face.

“So, he was murdered, and the murderer left him to bleed to death. From his expression, he was sorry, but from what he said, he was paid well.’ Half an hour later, he heard the sound of the other hunters fading away, and Barda slipped into sight. He saw the king’s body, and gasped. “Oh, master, what happened?” he asked. “I’ll run and get help, shall I?”

“No, Barda. For magical reasons, he must lie there until Monday. Then you can lead some of your people of Minstead here to find him. Do not come directly, they must not know you have already seen the body. Promise me you will do exactly as I say.” He looked sternly at the lad.

Barda looked from P.C. to the dead king and back. “Master, did you shoot him?” he asked.

“No Barda. Look at how he is lying. Could I have shot him in the breast from here?”

Barda looked, thought for a moment, and shook his head. “No master, your shot would have been in the back. All right, I will do as you say, and I will see that men of Minstead find him on Monday. They will know what to do.”

“Fine, Barda. And what of Prince Henry? Did he make any attempt to find or contact his brother?”

“No, master. He just had everyone mount and ride away. Someone called to ask if they should send a messenger, but the Prince said no, William would come back in his own good time. Then they all rode back toward London.”

“Good. You have done well, Barda. My work here is done. I will speak to the reeve about you. Meanwhile, stay in the house and take care of the forest.” He put his hand in his pouch and drew out some coins, “Here, you will need this to buy supplies.” He dropped four silver coins, two coppers, and one gold coin in the lad’s hand.

Barda gasped and stared at what to him was a fortune. “Oh, master, that’s too much! They will say I stole it, to have so much – and a gold piece!”

“It will be all right, Barda, I will tell the Reeve I gave it to you. He will believe me, because he will know I am a Mage.”

Barda stared for a moment longer, then said “Must you leave, Master? I would willingly work for you!”

“I must, lad. And I must go now. Take care of yourself, and remember what I have asked you to do. You will do well here, and the forest will be in good hands. Farewell!” He slipped his time machine from his hidden pocket, smiled at the lad, and pushed the stud. A moment later, he stood in front of the Reeve in Minstead.

“Who are you? And how did you get here?!” The Reeve was angry and shaken.

“Do not fear me,” P.C. said. “I am a Mage from far away. I have been with Barda, the apprentice forester, checking on his work. The old forester is dead, and I wish to tell you that Barda is both well trained and conscientious. You can do no better for the forest and the King than to name him as Forester. Here is a gift for you in thanks.” He gave the Reeve two gold coins.

The Reeve stared at the coins in his hand, then at P.C. “Yes, Mage, I will do as you say. I had only heard of the forester’s death yesterday. Where will I find Barda?”

“In the forester’s cottage. And I gave him four silver coins, two coppers and one gold coin. He needs to buy supplies if he is to continue to live there. Do not let anyone accuse him of theft.”

“It shall be as you say, Mage. May I offer you something? A cold drink, perhaps?”

“I thank you, but no. I must away to my own land now. God be with you.” P.C. lifted the time machine, reset the controls, pressed the stud, and was gone, leaving the Reeve staring at the place where he’d been standing.

“Hello, chaps!” he smiled at his friends where they were gathered waiting for his return. They greeted him happily, and again, Jimbo was too anxious to wait. “Well, did you solve the puzzle? Was it murder or accident?”

“I did, and I have the evidence right here,” he held up the Brownie camera. “If you are patient, I can change and then I will develop the film, and you can look at the pictures while I tell you the story.”

Several hours later, as they all left, G.P. said “I think you are right, P.C. it would do no good to tell anyone about this, they wouldn’t believe you. Not even with the pictures. And if they did, you would have to give your machine to the government. They would insist that it should be only used for military purposes

“Yes, and it’s mine to play with, do research with. I look forward to many more trips, and I’ll work on it so that I can take some of you with me.” There was general agreement.

Time Moves On   part 1 – A continuation.

Inspired by a picture of a pile of books with a green leaf

“Uncle Peesee,” P.C. looked up from his desk at the soft voice and turned; in the doorway stood Betsy, Mrs. Kennedy’s ten-year-old granddaughter. She looked very solemn, and worried.

“Yes, Betsy, what is it?”

“Um…the teacher sent a note home today. Grandmama read it and said I should show it to you.” She held out an envelope. “I said something I shouldn’t have, and teacher got mad.” Betsy’s voice said she knew how wrong she had been, and was worried about how he would take it.

“Bring it here, then, and let me look.” He took the envelope, removed the note, and read it. Then he looked at her.

“Oh, Betsy, what have I told you about repeating what I teach you?”

“You said not to. But she said it was proven that the world was made six thousand years ago! And you have shown me things at the museum that are lots older than that!”

“Yes, and I have told you many times – many Christian people will not accept that. It is no use arguing with them. We have seen the proof, and we believe science is right. They don’t, even if they’ve seen the proofs. I guess you will miss the trip this time.”

Her eyes filled with tears, but she whispered, “All right, Uncle Peesee. I won’t ever do it again. But they make me so mad! How can someone as smart as teacher be so dumb?”

“It’s called blind faith, Betsy. They believe in what their experts tell them so strongly, that nothing sways them. Best to leave them to it, there is much less trouble that way. Some day they will find they have to accept what science is telling them. Until then, we keep out of it. Remember that, all right?”

The little girl nodded, “I will, Uncle Peesee. And I’m really sorry.”

“All right, Betsy. Off you go now and help your Grandmama.”

He watched as she went slowly away, head hanging. He hated to see her unhappy, but he really needed to be sure she remembered. Otherwise, she could end up in real trouble. As he turned back to his desk, he remembered the first time he saw her, a shaken, numb five-year-old clinging to Mrs. Kennedy’s hand.  Both of her parents had been killed in an auto accident, and Mrs. Kennedy was the only family she had left. Of course, he welcomed her into his home, though he did worry about the changes it would bring.

In the end, all the changes had been good. Within a few weeks Betsy was a lively, intelligent, inquisitive little person, bringing life to the old place. He had grown to love her, and had made out his will so that when he died, she and Mrs. Kennedy would have the house, and most of his wealth. With the time trips he made, it was possible that he wouldn’t make it back. If, however, he outlived Mrs. Kennedy, still Betsy would inherit.

Sighing, he put those thoughts aside and looked again at the disorderly pile of books and files on his desk. For a long time now he had been trying to find someplace, or something, interesting enough to time travel to. He and Digger had gone back in time to some of the places the archaeologists had found. It was interesting, but just not enough.

He had gone with G.P to Paris where for some time they followed Louise Pasteur’s experiments and discoveries. They saw the development of germ theory, the immunization of cattle against anthrax and the development, by Pasteur’s colleague Emile Roux, of the Rabies vaccine. They spent several years back in that time, but arrived back in London only a week after leaving. Interesting as all of that was, it didn’t satisfy P.C. He wanted something more exciting, possibly more world shaking. He’d even taken time to go to the Museum to look at the Piltdown man, and come away thoroughly let down. It just didn’t feel real.

‘Perhaps I will have to take some chances on running into battles,’ he mused. ‘I could go back to the fifth century, and see if I can find a warrior named Arthur. Now that would be exciting!’ he chuckled, but still sat running the idea through his mind. It wouldn’t be too hard to pick a year for a starting point, or a general area. And there is a lot of information on the clothing, weapons and so on. ‘At least, I do know how to use a sword – even a broadsword.’  He and a bunch of university friends had set out to learn all that a knight of the round table needed, just for a lark. ‘Hmmm…. perhaps; I’m going to do some in depth research. Maybe I will be ready by next month. I’ll contact Jimbo, Arthur would be right up his alley!’

“Uncle Peesee,” Betsy was at the door again.

“Yes, Betsy?”

“Grandmama says dinner is ready. Will you come?”

He smiled, pushed away from his cluttered desk, and rose. “Certainly, Betsy,” he said as he walked to the door. “That is the best news I’ve heard for hours!” Betsy giggled, and took his hand as they walked away.

Time Moves On – part 2

“Uncle Peesee, are you going away again?” Betsy stood in the hall looking into P. C.s bedroom, where he was sorting clothing.

“Yes, Betsy, I’m going on another trip, with Uncle James. We won’t be gone long, just about a week.” P. C. stopped and looked at her.

“When will you take me? You promised you would, you know.” Betsy’s eyes were big, her face solemn. “It isn’t nice to make promises and not keep them.”

“True, Betsy, but what I promised was that I would take you with me when you are older, like in about ten years.”

She stamped her foot. “I don’t want to wait that long!” she exclaimed. “You take lots of other people. Doctor, and Uncle James – this will be his second time – and Uncle Digsby; everyone but me!”

“Yes, Betsy, now think, you have named them all, are they children?” P.C. watched her face as she thought about it.

“Well, no,” she said. “But ten years is so long! My whole life!”

“Yes, Betsy, to you it is a long time. But use it well. Study hard, especially the extra lessons I’m giving you and you will be well prepared for the trip when it happens. Uncle James and I have been preparing for this trip for five years, and working very hard. Be patient, my girl, and apply yourself, and the time will pass more quickly.”

“All right, Uncle P.C.,” she sighed. “But it does seem so far away.”

“Think about now, and study, and don’t worry about ten years. You’ll find the time goes faster that way. Now come and give me a hug and kiss, a big one. It will have to last me until I come home!” He held out his arms and smiled. She ran into his arms, wrapped hers around his neck as he bent to her, and they exchanged hugs and kisses.

“Goodbye, Uncle P.C., be careful and come home safe!” She raised her hand, turned and went running off down the hall.

Two days later P.C. and Jimbo were standing in a quiet spot on the river Wysg, in Wales. It was the year 456 AD. They were dressed as a questing Knight and his squire, with four horses compatible with those ridden in the 5th century. Packed on the sumpter horses were all the accoutrements needed to care for weapons and armour on one, and other supplies on the other. Jimbo was the squire and P.C. the knight in boiled leather armour with sword and shield, of course. After a quick look around, they mounted and rode out onto the track that did duty as a road.

They had ridden for about an hour when they heard shouting and the clash of arms. “Wouldn’t you know it,” P.C. sighed, “We find a battle first thing!” And a battle they found as they rounded a bend in the road. Three knights fighting five Saxons, and getting the worst of it. “We’d better go help them,” P.C. said. “Yes,” Jimbo replied.

Setting spurs to horses they charged into the fray, swords swinging and taking two of the Saxons from behind. The unexpected help bolstered the knights’ courage, and renewed their energy. Soon the battle was over, and all that was left to do was to gather whatever was useful, including the horses, and move on.

“Thank you for your timely aid, sir knight. I am hight Sir Ambicatos, and these others are Sir Maelgwn and Sir Cantoris. To whom do we owe our thanks?” The speaker was the biggest and the oldest of the three, fully six feet tall, with brown hair and beard. Sir Ambicatos was no more than an inch shorter, and his hair and beard were pale yellow, while Sir Cantoris was about the same height with fiery red hair and was clean shaven.

“I am hight Sir Cunedda and my squire, who is ready now for knighting, is Ifan. We come from Gwynedd, on an errand from our Chief into Somerset. Perhaps at a later time, we will be free to join you.” P. C. was anxious to get away from the knights. He did not want to become embroiled in King Arthur’s battles, he wanted to meet the man after he had all of Britannia united and at peace.

Sir Ambicatos raised a hand in acknowledgement. “One must carry out the orders of one’s Chief. It would be good to have such doughty warriors at our side, but needs must. Perhaps, as you say, we will meet again. May the God Aeron aid your hand in battle. Fare thee well.” The three rode off, going south. P,C. and Jimbo rode north for a while, until they were sure the others couldn’t see them, and moved into the edge of a forest. “I’m going to send us to Somerset, between Glastonbury Tor and what is, in our time, South Cadbury. And I’m taking us ahead seventy-six years, to 532. If Cadbury Castle is the site of Camelot, we should see it when we are in the open. And we should hit the time after all the battles. Arthur would be at his best by then. Think of it, meeting the legendary Arthur in person, and being able to hear him and his knights tell tales of their adventures!”

“Great!” Jimbo agreed. “Let’s go!” and they went.

Time Moves On –part 3

Much to P.C.s dismay, they appeared in the middle of a road, this one in good repair, obviously built by the Romans. With a quick look around, he sighed in relief. Except for a distant figure working in a field there was no one in sight. And he would not have seen them, as his back was turned as he bent over his task.

“Oof!’” he exclaimed. “I thought we’d land in a wooded area. Well, good luck for us, we won’t have to pretend to be magicians. Once is enough, and I don’t want to be mistaken for Merlin or one of his rivals.”

“Yeah, I guess so, though it might be fun,” Jimbo grinned. “Now what are we going to do?”

1. C. turned in a slow circle, scanning the area. “Hmm…it looks like we may be closer to Glastonbury Tor than I thought. I think we should go there and see what’s what. Someone around there should be able to tell us about Arthur.”

That decided, they mounted and rode. It was late afternoon when they came to a settlement near the base of the Tor. It was not much more than a village, but they found an inn on the main street, and stopped there. With the horses stabled and cared for, they got a room, and settled at a table in the common room for a hot meal, and some ale. As they ate, they listened to the conversation at a table nearby. Four monks sat resting and making final plans for the climb of the Tor, and were discussing how privileged they would be to see the tomb of King Arthur and Guinevere.

“Oh, no!” P. C. moaned as he smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand. “I’ve done it again! This time I took us too far forward. Well, since we are here, let’s follow the brothers and climb the Tor. It would be ridiculous for us to be right here and not take a look. I’ll ask them if they mind us joining them.” He stood up and approached the other table.

“Pardon me, Brothers, I couldn’t help overhearing that you plan to climb the Tor tomorrow to see King Arthur’s Tomb. We are strangers here, and must move on tomorrow, but would you allow us to join you? We would feel blessed to see the last resting place of such a great King and Warrior.”

“I am Brother Bartholomew,” the oldest monk said as he stood to shake hands. “It would be an honour and privilege if two such sturdy warriors joined us as we pay homage to Arturus. We will be leaving at sun up, and will fast until after we have returned from our pilgrimage. You may eat or fast, as you think best. Ask the inn keeper to wake you when we come down, or earlier if you plan to eat.”

“Thank you, brother, we will join you in fasting, and in breaking fast afterwards.”

P.C. bowed and touched hand to forehead and rejoined Jimbo. “We can find a secluded place after we eat, and go back some. I’m sure we will find out a great deal about the time and events surrounding Arthur’s death, and that should give us a better idea of the year we want.”

Jimbo nodded. “It will be quite an experience to actually see the grave.  It was found in the rebuilding of the Abby in 1190, but some are sceptical about it. I for one believe the claim is correct, but to see it so soon after his death will be a thrilling confirmation for me.

The climb to the top of the Tor was long and tiring, the brothers chanting prayers the whole way.  When they reached the top, Brother Bartholomew led them across to the gravesite. There was a large stone slab with a leaden cross fastened to it. On the cross, in Latin, was an inscription translated as ‘Here lies King Arthur buried in Avalon.’

Each of the Brothers laid a relic on the stone slab. PC and Jimbo hadn’t expected this, but hastily searched in the pouches at the belts. P.C. found a Roman denarius dated 166, with Marcus Aurelius depicted on it. This he placed on the stone with the offerings of the monks. Jimbo found an even older coin, a gold aureus from 75 AD. They didn’t know whose head was depicted. He solemnly placed it with the other offerings. The Monks nodded, pleased that the strangers honoured King Arthur with such valuable gifts. Chanting their final prayers, the monks bowed one last time to the tomb, and turned to depart. P.C. and Jimbo followed suit, and soon they were on their way back down.

It was still fairly early in the morning when P.C. and Jimbo bade the monks and the inn keeper farewell, and rode off, heading into the sunrise, toward the nearest forest. Once there, they slid off the horses and settled down on a fallen log.

“All right,” P.C. said. “When we arrived back in 459 we were several years too early, Arthur was only two years old.  Those knights we met were battling to have him named king, as Uther had just died. This is 535, and he has been dead for about fifteen years, so we need to go back to 490, I would say. Things would be peaceful, and he would be about 33, and still an active man.” He looked at Jimbo. “What do you think?”

“Sounds good to me, and I think meeting him at that age would be perfect. I can hardly wait to hear of the exploits of Arthur and his knights from the horse’s mouth as it were. Let’s do it.” They both chuckled, stood, gathered the reins of the horses, and adjusted the time machines. Soon the forest was empty of human life.

Time Moves On – part 4

The usual small group had gathered in P. C.’s study, avid to hear of the latest time travel adventure. Jimbo had given some interesting hints, but no one knew if they had succeeded in their quest to meet King Arthur. P. C. closed the door, and took his seat.

“All right, now we will tell you our tale. Including the bouncing around in time that we did before we found a year in which Arthur still lived, and all was at peace.

“We first arrived in the year 459 AD, and ran into a battle. Some knights fighting others, in the belief that the very young Arthur should be named King. We rounded a corner, riding right into it, and perforce joined in. We won, and after it was over, had to think of an excuse not to join them. We said we were on an errand for our king.

“Once we left them we found a secluded place, and I set our date ahead to 535. On arrival, we road to a village at the base of Glastonbury Tor where we stopped at an inn. There we met a group of monks, who were on pilgrimage to Arthur’s tomb on the Tor. We were not too happy at missing the time again, but were allowed to join them. We all fasted before the climb, and saw the tomb, just as it has been described. We left after we had eaten, and again found a secluded spot at the edge of a forest. Once more, we reset our time machines, and went back to 490 AD. At last we hit it right, Arthur was alive, and at peace. We were fortunate in running into a couple of the knights, Sir Dinadin and Sir Tristan. They invited us to join them that evening at a feast in Camelot’s Great Hall. There we met Arthur, presented as Sir Lucas and Sir Gwilim, from Little Britain, and heard many tales of knightly adventures.

“Arthur was a big man, dark haired and eyed, with the broad shoulders and muscular body of a fighter. He moved with the grace of a dancer or sword fighter, and was all that legend describes. He was a gracious host, and was enjoying and joining in with the laughter and banter around the table.

“Two stories stand out. The first was Sir Sagramore’s, who was called the Desirous, the Unruly, the Rash, the Impetuous, and from his tale, the description was correct. He was the son of the King of Hungary and daughter of an Eastern Emperor.  After his father died and his mother married a British king, he followed her to Britain.

“He had barely landed when he was attacked by a group of Saxons, and might well have ended his career then. As luck would have it, Gaharis, Agravain and Gawain came to his rescue, and they killed the group and left them for the ravens. He was then housed for the night with the brothers, and the next day went with them to meet Arthur. He distinguished himself in several battles, was knighted, along with Gaharis and his brothers, and named a member of the Round Table.

“The part of his tale that he seemed to enjoy telling the most was about his adventures rescuing maidens and, afterwards, seducing them. He mentioned only two by name, Queen Sebile of Sarmenie whom he defended against Baruc the Black. After which, they became lovers.

“The other named maiden was the Lady Senehaut, who became more than a lover, as she was the mother of his daughter. The daughter was being raised by Queen Guinevere.  ‘Another well rewarded adventure,’ he said, ‘was the liberation of the Castle of Maidens from a siege by Tallides of the Marsh.’ He smiled at the memory, and refused to detail the rewards, though many knights called for him to do so.

“There was a great uproar when Sagramore’s tale ended, with many ribald comments and much laughter. When this died down, Arthur called on Sir Gawain to tell of his encounter with the Green Knight.

“Sir Gawain was hesitant, and stood blushing. ‘I am not proud of how I comported myself in that encounter,’ he said, ‘but as my King commands, so I will tell.’ He then recounted how, at a New Year celebration, a gigantic figure all green, entered the hall. He rode a green horse, and wore no armour, but in one hand he bore an axe, and in the other, a holly bough.

“I have come to challenge any knight here to play a Christmas game with me,’ he said. ‘Let him who dares take this axe and strike me, once.  One year and day hence, let the knight come to me, and allow me to strike him once. Whoever wins, keeps the axe.’

‘At first, Arthur wanted to take the challenge, but I begged leave to do it.’ Gawain said. ‘It was granted; the knight swept his hood off his head, and bowed his neck to me. With one swift stroke, I severed his head, and it rolled to the floor. But he did not fall. Instead, he picked his head up, and the mouth reminded me of the bargain. ‘Meet me at the green chapel,’ he said, then mounted his steed and rode out.

‘When the time neared, I set out to find the Green Chapel. I had many adventures and battles along the way, but eventually I came, starving and worn, to the castle of Bertilak de Hautdesert. He and his beautiful wife welcomed me, and treated me royally. There was an old crone there, too, who was treated with great honour, but never introduced.

‘Three days before I was to appear at the Green Chapel, I told Bertilak of my quest and asked if he knew of it. He told me it was less than two miles away, and offered a bargain. Whatever he brought in from hunting for the next three days, he would give to me. I was to give him in return whatever I gained during each day. I agreed.

‘The first day, I was in the room assigned to me, when Lady Bertilak entered. She tried to seduce me, but all I would allow was one kiss. This kiss I exchanged that evening with Bertilak, in return for a deer. The same thing happened the second day, with two kisses exchanged for a boar. The third day, the lady was more insistent, and to keep the peace, and because she said it would keep me from injury, I accepted a girdle of green and gold silk, and three kisses. I exchanged the kisses with Bertilak for a fox, but didn’t mention the girdle.

“He goes on to recount how he went to the chapel, met the green knight, and after flinching at the first threatened blow, steadfastly knelt for the final one. The green knight swung again, without touching him, but when Gawain angrily demanded that he finish what he started, he swung a third time. But the blow was soft, only breaking the skin. Then the green knight revealed that he is Bertilak, transformed by magic, and it was a trick proposed by the elderly lady Gawain had seen. In reality, she was Morgan le Fay, Arthur’s sister and a sorceress. She hated Arthur, and thought to test Arthur’s knights, and terrify Guinevere. Gawain and Bertilak parted on friendly terms, and Gawain returned to the Round Table to tell his tale. He wore the green girdle in shame at his failure to follow the rules of the game.  The knights, after hearing the tale, absolve him of blame, and all decided to wear green sashes to honour his adventure.

“And that, gentlemen, is the tale of our Arthurian adventure.” P.C. smiled. “The day after the feast, we rode out and deep into the forest, set out time machines for my laboratory for yesterday’s date, and returned home.” They sat in silence for a moment, then the discussion started, and went on long into the night. THE END!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

inspired by a picture of various shapes in brown over a background of blues

The space ship tumbled through the wide expanse of space, looking like a baton juggled by a gigantic juggler. Whatever had hit it had come from behind, moving at incredible speed. Not only had it set the ship to spinning, it had also damaged one engine and made a hole in a rear compartment. In the bridge, the pilot was sprawled in his chair, held in place by a security net. It was obvious that he had not been so secured when the accident happened; his head was bleeding and his breathing was shallow and erratic.

In the co-pilot seat the android Gepuanmat (General Purpose Android Mark Two) worked swiftly, carefully, to gain control of the ship. Nothing could be done for the injured pilot until the erratic spinning was stopped. Short puffs of fuel jetted out of the attitude jets around the ships body, and gradually, the spinning slowed and stopped. Gepuanmat sat back with a sigh, then pushed the call button for the Medbot, stood up, and bent over the pilot.

Two hours later the pilot walked onto the bridge, healthy and strong again, having spent the time in the healing cabinet. “Do you know where we are?” he asked the android. “And thanks for taking over, and looking after me.”

Gepuanmat turned from the controls and shook his head. “No, I have been trying to locate stars I can recognise, but nothing matches anything in our charts. And what I did is only what I have been programed and trained to do. It is good to see you well again.”

“Well, I’m still grateful for it, whatever the reason.” Nosaj looked at the screen for a moment. “Ok, Gep, we seem to be nearing a solar system with planets in the life zone. Let’s move in carefully and see if one of them would be a safe haven. We certainly can’t go on, not with one engine and the warp drive down.”

Gepuanmat nodded, and waited for Nosaj to sit down. Working together, they steered the ship past the outlying cloud of icy, rocky bodies that might turn into comets or asteroids. They continued on, finding varying sized bodies circling four large gas planets, all of them ringed, then through a wide belt of asteroids. Finally, they came to a rocky planet, circled by two small moons. It was dry and arid looking, with no signs of life. On they went, and after several weeks they saw it; a beautiful blue and white ball, with a very large moon orbiting it.

The ship moved closer, while they used the large telescope to study it. There was definitely life there. There was a smallish space station and numerous satellites in low orbit, some in geosynchronous following their pre-set paths. Gep looked at the engine indicators and sighed.

 

“Looks like this is our destination, Nosaj. That engine won’t last much longer.” Even as he spoke, the engine coughed, stuttered and then resumed its even roar. “Hmph! Not even a long as I thought! We need to turn the ship now, and start slowing down while the thing still works. Otherwise we’ll turn to cinders in the atmosphere.”

Nosaj stared at the dials and gauges for a nano-second, and nodded. Their hands and fingers flew over the controls, using the attitude jets to turn the ship and still keep it from spinning out of control again. Once it was plunging tail-first toward the planet, they used short, quick blasts from the main engine to slow down Hopefully, it was enough to make entry into the atmosphere feasible. At last Nosaj leaned back, wiped his wet forehead, and sighed.

“I think that did it. Hey! Look at the space station! Do you think it’s possible that they have star travel?”

Gep studied the space station for a second, and shook his head. “No way. That is too primitive for a star-faring race. If we manage to land in one piece, this will be our home. If they accept us, we can perhaps help them, teach them what we know, and advance their space program. They will get to the stage of star travel, but by what I see, not for a long time yet. With our knowledge, we can speed that up. But take a look at the telescope. They seem to be very warlike. Do we want to turn that lose on the Universe?”

Nosaj looked through the telescope and watched as they circled the planet, getting closer with each orbit. He could see signs of battle in many places, and also signs of natural disasters, too; floods, draughts, and earthquakes. This was an active planet, then.

“Perhaps we should try to teach them to get along with one another, before we give them any advanced knowledge, if they accept us. Races who fight like that among themselves seldom greet strangers in a friendly manner. We’ll have to be very careful. And we can’t let them know you are an android.” He sighed. “Well, we’ll soon find out. Either we make it to land and are killed soon after, or we’ll make it and meet people who will give us a chance, or we don’t make it through the atmosphere at all.” He turned to Gepuanmat. “I have enjoyed our time together, Gep.” He reached over and touched his friend on the shoulder.

 

“Yes, it has been a good time. We have learned much together. But let’s not give in yet. We are at a good attitude for re-entry; soon we can flip the ship so we are going in heat shields first, and we have a very good chance of making it safely to land. Then it will be up to how well we can communicate, and convince them that we can be more use to them alive than dead.” He glanced at the dials. “Ok, time to flip.”

For a few moments their hands blurred around over the buttons and switches as they manipulated the attitude jets. The ship swung over, end for end, and they were safely on course, heading for the planet.

Nosaj and Gepuanmat landed in open land near Pigeon Lake, Alberta, Canada. After the first shock, the people from the town had welcomed them, and contacted the Canadian Government. After a few interviews with top people in the government and military, they were set up with all that they needed, and scientists and engineers who were anxious to learn from them. Not only Canadians, but people from around the world were involved and the space program was greatly expanded.

For the first few weeks, most of the time was spent in learning the languages and sciences of the world. Part of the time, Gep stayed in the ship, explaining its workings. There were times, though, when he was alone, and then he worked on his own project. He was building himself a wife. It was obvious to him that Nosaj was very attractive to the young Earth women, and he figured that, within a year, Nosaj would be married. He knew that then he should find a life and home of his own, and he was preparing for that time. Already, the young women were hanging around, trying to gain his interest. He had decided to name his wife Lifamauna – Loyal Ideal Female Android Mark Una (one), Lifa, for short.

Nosaj had gone off on a whirlwind ‘round the world’ tour. He had made speeches, inspected laboratories, factories and other facilities where work was going on, using the knowledge he and Gep had given. All fighting had stopped, and all the money and energy that had gone into the wars was now going into improving the health, food production and living conditions everywhere. The Americans, Canadians, Russians, Chinese and several eastern and near east countries had banded together to form a worldwide Space Agency.  Already, after only six months, the space station had been expanded and now had plenty of room for a permanent staff of twenty. A large hydroponic garden had been added, so there was fresh fruit and vegetables available, and a perfect air purification plant to keep the people healthy. They were both very happy with what they had accomplished on their adopted world.

Nosaj walked into the work room unannounced, and stopped in shock. “What are you doing, Gep? Who is that, and where did she come from?” He stared at the new android, studying her closely.

“Nos, you know how the Earth women have been, following us around, tying to snuggle up, get us in their beds? Well, the last time I came back here, one of them followed me, and slipped in while I was in the storage room. I came out to the lounge, and there she was, sitting by the table, with a drink in her hand. When she saw me, she did that squirming thing they do, batted her eyelashes, and said “come have a drink, lover,” in….you know, that odd voice – I think they’re being sexy. She wanted to go to bed with me, and the only way I could get rid of her was to tell her I’m a newlywed, and my wife was in cryogenic sleep, and I was about to bring her out. Well, I needed a wife to show, so I made one. I can’t have a relationship with an Earth woman, not if we still want to keep the fact of what I am secret.  So,” he turned and waved a hand toward the female android, “meet Lifamauna, Lifa for short.”

The female nodded her head and said “I am pleased to meet you at last, Nosaj.” Her voice was soft and just a bit sultry. She was beautiful, looked to be about twenty-five, and of course, in perfect shape. She had silky, shoulder length, mid-brown hair, and amber eyes, and when she smiled a dimple showed at the left corner of her mouth. “I am Loyal Ideal Female Android Mark Una.”

“Ah…uh…yes, uh…pleased to meet you, too, Lifa.” He turned back to Gep, “Uh…yeah….ok, I guess you had to do something. It’s just kind of a shock. But how do we explain her presence? Just being a newlywed wouldn’t explain why she was here, or in cryo. Hmmm…let me see. How about this? Since there were only two of us, going on a long and possibly hazardous journey, it was decided by the powers that be back home that a replacement might be needed if one of us were seriously injured. Since she has all the same qualifications we do, they put her in that position. She would remain cryo unless or until one of us needed the tank, being too badly injured for the medbox, at which point she would be restored and the injured one frozen.” He looked at Gep, one eyebrow raised in question.

“Briliiant!” Gep exclaimed. “And she is fully trained, since I duplicated all of my programming for her, the only thing I changed was the gender.  Sometimes, Nos, I find it hard to remember that you are not an android.  And if or when the time comes, I can create more of us, make them look like humans, and Lifa and I can live in our own community. It’s even possible to create children, infants who will grow like human children do. We can be part of the life of Earth for a while. Then, when the first exploration ships go out, we can be the crew and settlers. New planets can be prepared by us, and the humans can follow.”

“Hmmm…I guess it could be done that way, and more planets could be settled if they didn’t have to be quite so Earth like. You can live in an environment that would be very hard for humans, until you had terraformed. And by that time, it would be safe to reveal what you and they are.  Good thinking, Gep. But that is all for the future. My tour was very successful, and things are happening at a greatly increased pace. Let me change, and then let’s go out for dinner, and introduce Lifa to the locals. There is a redhead here that I really like, maybe we can find her and make it a foursome.”

They went out, found the redhead, and Lifa found that she liked life. Everything happened as they had planned, though it took many years before the first exploration ships were sent out. Eventually, dozens of planets were found that were Earth like, or could be made so fairly easily. By that time, the Earth people were comfortable with the idea of androids, and happy to let them take on the less habitable planets.  Many times in his long life with his wife Virginia, Nosaj thought how fortunate they had been to land on Earth. Gep and Lifa finally settled on a planet that couldn’t be made safe for humans, and became the home planet of the androids.  They grieved when they heard of the death of Nosaj and Virginia – two hundred years after the first star ship’s flight.

 

Inspired by a picture of the full moon rising over a pine forest beside a boulder strewn river

As the Landing craft completed a final orbit of the planet, Captain Charles “Chuck” Matthews looked at his first officer, Commander Katharine “Kate” Evans.  “Well, Kate, now what do we do? There is definitely intelligent life here. We’re not supposed to land on such planets, but the D’Arcy McGee is well on the way to the next star system, and in FTL flight.”

“We have no choice, Captain,” Kate said. “We can’t catch up, and we can’t stay in orbit. We have to land. This planet is ninety-five percent Earth-like. We can breathe the air, and probably live off the food and water. They seem like a peaceable people. I have seen no sign of hostilities anywhere, and the ball of yarn orbit we have just finished covered every inch. I do recommend finding a secluded valley in the mountains, though. “

‘Sir,” Lt. Raini Redfern said from the communications board. “I saw a valley about three quarters of the way down the mountain that might do. It is big enough for the lander, if we go in vertically. There are trees like evergreens, rocks and a river to one side. It’s about fifty miles east of where we are now – one orbit would get us down low enough, and right over it. Do you want me to put the image up?”

“Good work, Redfern,” Chuck said. “Yes, let’s take a look.” The image appeared on the centre screen. “Hmmm…looks good, what do you think, Kate?”

“Looks as good as we’re going to get, and the nearest settlement is well off to the west. I’d say go for it. Raini, better let the McGee know we’ve found aliens, and we will have to land. Not much they can do about it, but we are supposed to report.” Raini nodded, and prepared a message capsule.  It would go FTL within the hour, and be waiting when the D’Arcy McGee returned to normal space.

The landing went smoothly, attitude jets used instead of the main engines, to cut down the chances of anyone seeing the streak of light. The valley was small, but big enough for the lander, and for shelters to be set up. The ship would be manned at all times, but everyone would have their turns at walking on solid ground, and breathing really fresh air.

Chuck, Kate, Commander Liam Connors the Chief Science Officer, and Rance Okonjo, biologist, spent several hours in the ship studying the screened images of the natives, their settlements, industries and farms.  “They are fairly advanced,” Liam said. “They have self-powered vehicles and whatever it is they’re using for fuel, there is almost no pollution.”

Suddenly there were shouts from outside, and they all rushed to the Hatch and looked out. All the humans who were outside were gathered near the river, staring up at the eastern side of the valley. Chuck and the others climbed out, and turned to look. About halfway down the rugged valley wall was a group of aliens, all standing and apparently staring. They seemed as shocked as the humans, and no wonder. Humans were as strange to them, as they were to the humans. They looked like tall asparagus spears with arms and legs. From this distance, it was hard to distinguish faces, but they could see that the group carried what looked like weapons. Were they as peaceful as they had seemed from space?

Chief Petty Officer Brian Peterson called his squad to order, and had them gather between the human encampment and the approaching aliens. No arms were drawn, though two, Leading armsman Joel Thomas and cadet Beth Arthurs lay on the roof of a building with stun grenade launchers, just in case. Captain Matthews walked over to the Chief and stood with him, waiting to see what would come of this First Encounter.

part two

Chuck stood there for a moment, then turned to Chief Peterson. “Brian, leave all your weapons here and come with me, I think we should go meet them.” He turned to Lieutenant Lorraine Albright and said “You too. We need a linguist. You do have your translator, don’t you?” when she nodded, he told her to disarm too, then took off his own weapons and carefully laid them on the ground.

Peterson stared at him a moment. “Captain, are you sure? They are armed, we could be killed without warning.”

“Yes, we could, and then they would be wiped out, wouldn’t they? I feel that they are too intelligent to do anything that stupid. All we have seen of them has indicated that they are peaceful. Let’s give them a chance.”

Brian sighed, and proceeded to divest himself of his weapons, placing them carefully on the ground. By the time he was finished, there was quite a pile. Brian was fond of weapons, and always carried quite an arsenal. “Ok, Captain, I’m ready,” he said. Chuck looked at the pile of weapons and laughed, shaking his head. He looked at Lorraine, saw that she had removed her weapons, and said “Yeah, Brian. Ok, let’s go,” he said, and started walking forward.

They watched the aliens as they went, and saw that three of them were laying down their weapons, too. They did resemble asparagus spears, but amazingly supple ones. The bent at what would be the waist, though the body was straight, and they could turn from side to side just the same as humans did. Their legs were flexible, but not as much so as human legs. There was some bend at knee and ankle but their gait was stiffer, though no slower. The head area was slightly wider than the body, tapering up to a point at the top, with a crest of fern-like growth.

The eyes were longer than they were wide, and a very deep green. There was a loose flap where a nose would be, and a wide, thin lipped mouth. The head could turn from shoulder to shoulder, or where shoulders would be, and when one turned his head, Chuck could see a flap on the side that appeared to be attached at the top and back, possibly ears. By this time, the two small groups had reached each other, stopping with only a couple of feet between them.

Chuck smiled and held up one hand. “Hello, we come in peace,” he said, and winced at the triteness, but couldn’t think of anything else to say. “I am Charles Matthews, Captain, and this is Chief Petty Officer Brian Peterson, and Lorraine Albright,” indicating each in turn.

The tallest alien gave a slight bow of its head, held up a hand and said something. The language was tonal, with some birdlike twittering, and some clicking. Actually it was rather pleasant to hear. Chuck knew Lorraine would need more than that, so he turned slightly and pointed to the lander.

“We come from Earth, a planet that is fifty light years away. Our main ship has gone on. We did not know this planet was inhabited when it left us, or we would not have been dropped off.  It will be many years before the ship returns and we can’t live in space in the lander that long, so we were forced to land. We will try to interfere with your people as little as possible.”

The tall alien looked to his companions and then answered. He waved his arm and, with the others, sang a harmonic chord, moving his arm in a large sweeping gesture, as though indicating the whole world. Next, he touched himself as he sang he something that sounded like notes of a scale “Somela,” Then he turned and pointed to the others. Touching the first, he sang “Dofaso”, turned and pointed to the other singing “Raylado” the ‘do’ this time a higher note. Then he turned to Chuck, and said something, pointing at him and shook his head. Pointing at Brian, he said something more, and sang “Terayso”, looking at Chuck and then Brian, to see if they understood.

“Ah,” Chick said.  He turned to Brian “Yes, my name doesn’t fit the scale, but they could take part of Peterson and give you a name.” He turned back to Somela and nodded. Placing a hand on Brian’s shoulder, he sang as well as he could “Terayso”, and they both nodded. Somela smiled, pointed at Lorraine singing “Loray”

Chuck nodded again, and made motions of invitation. “Come into our camp and sit for a while.” He turned to Lorraine. “How goes it, do you have enough to make up translators for everyone?”

“For a limited vocabulary, yes, but I can only make about a dozen right away. I’ll go start that while you get them settled. Once I have one replicated, you can have this one. It won’t take more than half an hour. “She scooted off at a run.

Somela beckoned to the rest of his group. They picked up all the weapons, and came down into the camp. Cadet Fredrick Farnsworth gasped and said “Hey, they’re carrying picnic coolers!” Chuck looked, and saw that two pairs were carrying what looked just like big picnic coolers. “Hmmm, wonder what’s in there?” he murmured.

part 3

It took about half an hour to get everyone settled. Chuck asked what they called their world, and the reply sounded like Dipavuga, sung to the scale. Somela said they and their city were called Dikega, also sung to the scale.

Somela then pointed to the ‘coolers’ and, making gestures as he talked, offered to share the contents with the humans. One of the people carrying a cooler bent and opened it. Chuck stepped over and saw several large cuts of meat. “Hmmm…nice thought, Somela, but will we be able to eat it?” He did his best to show what he meant, miming eating, then smiling and rubbing his stomach, then frowning and grabbing his middle and acting very ill. Somela understood, and Chuck turned to his Chief Medical Officer, Rance Okonjo.

“How quickly can you test a bit of that to see if we can eat it?” he asked.

“Not long, sir, about ten minutes.” Rance replied. He moved to the cooler, looked at Somela and indicated what he wanted to do. Somela nodded, and as soon as Rance had obtained a small sample, ordered the cooler closed. Lorraine sent two translators out, and he and Kate each wore one. Kate took hers and moved to the aliens who were sitting apart from the rest, where she started talking. The translators automatically added words as it heard them, and soon conversation was easier.

Rance was soon back, and reported that they could eat the meat, and some of the other foods they had gathered. “Sir, I think everything here is compatible with our bodies. We can plant crops and eat what we harvest, and thrive on it.” Chuck said that what good news that was, then turned back to Somela.

“It’s all right,” he told Somela, “our systems are compatible with yours; we can eat what you eat.” Interested, he asked about the animal the meat came from, and for the next half hour, Somela and Melado described the animal and he hunting trip. In the course of their talk, Chuck gathered that there had been a severe storm some months ago that had destroyed much of the crops and killed many animals. The people of Somela’s town were on very short rations.

“Somela,” he said. “Your people need that meat. We have plenty, and if we can eat your food, you can eat ours. Why not send the meat home now. You and a couple of your friends stay with us for the night, and we can eat together and talk. We have a lot of fruits and vegetables in our hydroponic garden; we’ll make up a package for them to take with them. At least for tonight, your people can eat well.”

Somela agreed with many thanks, and soon five of them were on their way home, laden down with the two coolers of meat, and another filled with fresh fruits and vegetables.

Over the next three years, the two groups of people grew close. With the help of the human’s more advanced farming methods, and the addition of crops that were new to the aliens, they became stronger and healthier. Meanwhile, many of the humans paired off, and children were born. Drs. Rance and Amaya Tamako kept careful genetic records, so there would be no danger of inbreeding.

It was five years later that a new ship appeared in the sky, and a message was received. “This is the King William, U.K. register, Earth Space Agency, calling Captain Charles Matthews, come in, please.” Communication’s Cadet Alfred Mitchell answered “Cadet Mitchell here, aboard lander Ontario. I am sending someone for Captain Matthews right away, sir.”

“Thank you,” the voice responded.

After Chuck had finished talking to the King William, he ordered a landing sight be marked out down below the foothills. “Earth has sent a diplomatic mission. They will not interfere with what we are doing with the Dikega’s, but will be in touch with Earth. This bunch will be staying, and there is nothing to keep us all from intermingling. So now we have a better gene pool for our growth. But we will not be settling here, except for one diplomatic settlement of no more than about five hundred.”

And so it was. Earth’s first encounter with an alien culture was a great success. Many years later, the leader of the diplomatic mission told Chuck “If we had come in first, we might never have created the close bonds we have here. You guys had no training in proper first contact protocol, and did a much better job than we would have. For instance, look at the mess made by the Harry Truman. There were Contact specialists aboard, and they insisted that they alone would make first contact. They stuck strictly to protocol, allowing only the translator to accompany them, and he wasn’t permitted to say a word. That one almost started the first interstellar war!

”That was after you landed here, but before Earth had your message and they were still trying to figure out what went wrong. And calm everything down and make very sincere apologies and reparations.  When your message came in, it made the big guns on Earth take a good hard look at the protocols. The changes they made then have led to several successful contacts. It just goes to show – sometimes it’s better to trust to instinct in person to person contact.” They both laughed, and Chuck felt a swell of pride in his old crew.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 inspired by picture of a little girl gathering shells by the sea

 

“SEVEN YEAR OLD CANADIAN GIRL MISSING!”

Daughter of Canada’s richest man vanished while playing on private Florida beach.

So the headlines had screamed that day twelve years ago. Now, retired police detective Rob o’ Suilleabhain and P.I. Mike Matthews, also retired, were revisiting the scene. For years they had examined and re-examined every bit of evidence to see if they had mossed anything. That evidence was scarce, mostly the statements of the few who had noticed the little girl playing at the edge of the water. Hannah Aliza Johnstone was a graceful, cheerful child, a joy to behold. All that the evidence had ever told them was that one moment she was there, and the next she had disappeared. No footprints anywhere, except the ones she had made as she approached that one point on the shore, then nothing. Not one single sight or sound of her. No bits of hair, or clothing; no scattered shells and stones from the collection she had been making.

“I still feel that we missed something,” Rob said, “but I’m damned if I can figure out what. It’s as though she just disappeared into thin air. And that is impossible!” he scowled at the sand beneath his feet.

“I know. I feel the same. I’ve thought and thought about it, and nothing comes to mind. How could anyone….” Mike stopped suddenly, staring ahead toward where the child had disappeared. He had been looking at that spot as he walked, and now he couldn’t believe his eyes.

“What?” Rob said, following Mike’s gaze. Then he stared, mouth agape. They had both stopped moving, frozen in disbelief. Right there, the spot that was impressed indelibly on both minds stood a young woman. “Who’s that, and where’d she come from?” he asked. After a brief pause, both men started walking toward her. She looked at them, took a hesitant step forward, and stopped, looking confused and wary.

When they were closer, Rob said “Hello, young lady. Are you all right?”

She looked from one to the other then said “I think so. I…I feel strange. I should know this place, but…..” her voice trailed off, and she shook her head. Rob and Mike slowly walked closer, until they were within touching distance; neither tried to touch her, though. They could see the confusion and fear in her eyes.

“What is your name?” Mike asked softly.

“I…I’m….Hannah Aliza Johnstone?” her voice rose in a question, and she looked at them, almost pleading with them to confirm this for her.

“All right, Miss” Rob said. “What can you tell us about yourself? How did you get here? There are no footsteps in the sand leading to where you are standing, and you seemed to appear out of nowhere. Since that has to be impossible, there must be another explanation.”

“I was….I was playing in the waves, picking up pretty shells and stones, and I saw a big bubble on the water. It made me think of The Wizard of Oz. You know, when Glenda appears.” She looked startled, and murmured “where did that come from?”

“Yes, there was a child who did that, twelve years ago.” Mike said. “What else do you remember?”

“Nothing, after the big bubble came. I was in it, and there were two people there, a man and a woman. But they weren’t human. They looked human, but more….more….like, all angles, not rounded. I remember being terrified, and then she touched me, and I felt calm, and went to sleep. When I woke up, I was in a beautiful house. There was a lovely garden outside, and other children, boys and girls, all about my age. They were all colours, some of them children of the people who had taken me – and, I guess, the others.

“We were well cared for, well fed, and had regular classes, and we all grew up. Then they said we would go back to our world, and share the knowledge we had with those who could use it best. But I don’t know what knowledge I have, or who to give it to.” She shook her head, and her shoulders slumped in dejection. “Do you know? And what about my family? I know I have a father and mother somewhere. I do, don’t I?” She looked anxiously from one to the other.

“Yes, you have parents, who have never given up hope of getting you back. We will take you to them, and report your return to the government authorities. They will come and talk to you, and maybe they can figure out who you should talk to.”  They all headed back along the beach to the car park. An hour later, they were at the Johnstone estate, and had witnessed the incredulous, joyful, reunion. Then an RCMP Lieutenant, and agents from the FBI and CIA arrived, and the questions started.

In the end, Hannah realized that she had a great deal of medical information. Treatments for things that were at that point untreatable; like curing all kinds of cancer, and ending arthritis, and almost anything humans are prone to. Suddenly she wanted to sing. Everything came back to her – her life before she was taken, the life with the aliens, all of it. She knew the names of the other human children, and what each one had been given.

“I know,” she cried. “I know it all. Robert Barnside, nuclear physics, way beyond what earth scientists know. Shelly Martin, cloning and stem cell research to cure birth defects in the first days and weeks after conception. I remember all of it, everything, and everyone. They are benevolent, and want only the best for us.”

They all stared at her; her Mom and Dad, Rob and Mike, the FBI and CIA agents, staring and silent. Then a large, clear, iridescent bubble materialized in the middle of the room and settled on the floor. Then it was gone, and a man and woman stood there. She was tall, blond and angular; he was shorter, dark and just as angular. They were both smiling.

“We are from the Andromeda Galaxy. We travel the universe, and when we find a planet where they are in the first stages of space travel, we explore the place. Whenever we find things that they are unable to fix, we borrow some of their brightest children, and teach them all that we can. That way, when they finally are capable of leaving their home system, they will be cured of all diseases. And all mental aberrations that cause so much hatred and suffering, are gone. The universe is big, and we are its guardians. We are making sure that there will be no strife, anywhere. We have a long way to go yet, but, with the help of those we have taught, the task gets smaller. Welcome to the Universe.”

There was a stunned silence, then an outburst of questions and comments. Androsynna and Zyromeda answered the questions for a while, but at last suggested that all the world leaders be called together. They could then explain to everyone at the same time, and see that the returned children were placed where their knowledge could be best used.

In time, after many different seminars all around the world, that new knowledge was being put to use. Humanity at last became one, with everyone working toward the same goals. And starships were being built so that the more mature Earthlings could take their first large steps outward. In time the Universe would be theirs, shared with the other intelligences they had not yet met.

this story was inspired by a picture taken by a storm chaser of four lightning bolts, from bright to faint. Written September 2010. To see the picture go to http://ozlandbard.blogspot.ca/2010_09_01_archive.html

The attack came, unseen, unexpected. Thousands of drones hidden behind the moon struck, and all communications satellites failed, the space station disintegrated and the settlements on the moon and Mars died in flames. We saw the flares from earth. We had no communications left but line of sight, here on earth. Then the drones flooded down and within twenty four hours, billions were dead and the last of the power grid was gone.

It took almost a year of hiding, digging more tunnels taking chances to gather food, clothing, books, everything and anything that we thought we’d need for however long it took to beat those cretins. Now, at last, thanks to the Big Brain guys and gals, we can fight back.

I was safe enough, as long as I wasn’t silhouetted against the sky. The new Chameleon cloth “Cammy” suits reflected back every search method – radar, infrared, heat seeking or whatever. The suits covered us completely, and the material was even proof against the poison mist the drones spread. It was a contact poison, so if any touched your skin, you were dead – horribly.

I stood high among the rubble over the entrance of the tunnel that had been the subway near Davisville Station. I scanned sky and land to the south, watching for drones, and for a light at ground level. With the whole world dark, even a small spark would be noticeable, and that is what I was watching for. Professor Andrews, one of the think tank boys, had come up with a new lighting system. Another brain boy had invented a portable version, and it was being tested today.

The enclave near Queen’s Quay were going to place one groundside, and we would watch what happened. Sure enough, there it was, a faint gleam of light near the ruins of the Air Canada Centre. And, as expected, what looked like bolts of lightning speared down, and the light was gone. So were most of the ruins around it.

I blinked my eyes to change the lenses to infrared, and continued to watch. Shortly, I saw them, heading this way. “Six, coming this way from the tower,” I barely whispered, and gave the co-ordinates. I watched and waited, until I heard a soft “Got ‘em” in response.

We were fortunate that so many who had sheltered in this section of the subway system were big brain types. The aliens were picking us off like helpless infants. After the first surprise attack, there had been several thousand sheltering here. Many insisted on trying to reach home, but it was soon apparent that any movement, vehicular or pedestrian, would be spotted immediately, and they would die from the lightning-like bolts, or the poison contact mist. Until the lads and lasses in the brain trust were able to create a tight barrier to close us in, the poison floated down; in the first three weeks, upwards of 250 thousand succumbed.

My musings were cut short by the soft “pssst pssst” of the ground to air weapons, and I watched as, one after the other, the enemy drones came apart. These weapons were a gift from a brain trust in Russia. It was three or four months before we could contact anyone we couldn’t physically reach through the tunnels. Then several people came to tell the leaders that they seemed to be in touch with others, not just in Toronto, but in the rest of North America, the U.K., Europe, South America and Asia. They were tested and it was true. Telepaths had appeared in almost every enclave on earth. Now the Espers kept the survivors in touch, and new inventions and methods of fighting were passed along as quickly as when we had the World Wide Web, and telephones.

One of our brain boys had taken the basic idea of the DAD and improved on it. DAD being Distance Atomic Disintegrator; nothing nuclear, just a ray of some sort that caused the atoms in any material in its path to lose cohesion.  Don’t ask me how it works, I’m no science geek. I just know it does – and that makes me very happy.

A whisper came to my ears. “Got the Mother in sight,” I heard. “Bringing Big Daddy to bear.” “Ok,” I responded, and blinked again. Now I could see clearly, right through the cloud cover. I scanned, and yes, up there in line with Mars, what seemed to be a small dark object. “Waiting,” the same voice whispered; “Coming straight at us, fast!” Yes, I could see that it was growing rapidly. Two minutes later I heard Big Daddy speak, sounding like a dragon sighing. The Mother ship came apart just like the drones had.

Loud cheers from below nearly deafened me – except that I was yelling just as loudly. I blinked back to infrared in time to see more of the lightning bolts streaking down, out around the airport. And, just as quickly, those drones fell apart. Finally, we had weapons that could reach the big Mothers. And they couldn’t find them, the rays made no trail to trace.

It would take time, but one day, earth would be ours again, free and safe. And maybe, other aliens would think twice about attacking us. Rebuilding would be a long job, but this had made us into a united whole, no more national or religious fighting. With the Big Brain lads and lasses to help with healing and renewing the land, and espers to keep everyone open and honest, we could do it!