Miami Days and Truscan (K)nights

by Gail Roughton

  “And these people found you.”

  He laughed. “Now that’s where I wasn’t as lucky as you. You crashed about two miles over the Truscan border, in a country we call Pria, and I crashed much further in. And Dalph, here, he keeps the borders patrolled all the time, but he takes patrols out himself real often. Truscans got a real ‘we guard the world’ thing going on; there was never any question we were going to cross the border to see if anybody was alive. We barely got back out. A Prian border patrol was right behind us. That’s why Dalph couldn’t stop to argue with you. Guess maybe from our appearance with the swords and shields and fur trappings and all, you’ve got this pegged as a real ‘Me Tarzan, you Jane’ place, and it sorta is, won’t lie about it. Know Dalph’s knocking you out didn’t help your opinion of him but he didn’t take any pleasure in it, he had no choice. You don’t want to meet up with the Prians.”

  “I don’t?”

  “Oh, trust me, darlin’, you don’t. See, you’re sitting here ’bout to join us for supper. But if the Prians had gotten to you first, you wouldn’t be eating supper. You’d be supper.”

  I stared. “I don’t believe you!”

  He shrugged. “Okay. But they were just about to cut my balls off and toss ’em in the fire when Dalph’s father and his patrol got me away from ’em. That blunt enough for you?”

  I could feel the blood draining from my face.

  “What is this place?” I whispered.

  “Trusca. And you thank all the gods of all the worlds for it. Last country in this world that isn’t part of the Prian Empire. That meat looks about ready, let’s eat. And seeing as how I think I finally got your attention, I’ll try to answer whatever you ask.”

  I sat on the pile of furs and watched Johnny move around the fire. It wasn’t exactly cold, but it wasn’t the Caribbean either. I hugged my shoulders. I was dressed for a casual flight to Jamaica, in jeans and halter top, over which I’d put on a short-sleeved camp shirt, tying the loose ends at my waist, with comfortable running shoes on my feet. At least I hadn’t been dressed for a business trip in a linen suit and high heels. Dalph caught the gesture and rose to pick up one of the furs, wrapping it around my shoulders. His eyes held mine for a minute, and he almost turned away. Then he looked back.

  “Sedte ca mortuus tempray.” he said. Or words to that effect. “Nolte dasa ca sala.”

  I looked at Johnny and raised my eyebrow.

  “He says he’s sorry about your pilot and that no Truscan takes any life lightly. There was just no choice.”

  I locked eyes with Randalph of Trusca and nodded solemnly.

  Johnny watched in approval. “Good deal. Glad you get it.”

  He handed me a plate, and I looked down and over to the men around me who were eating with their fingers, using large chunks of brown bread to assist them in picking up the food and sopping up the meat juices.

  “Sorry, we don’t carry such non-essentials as eating utensils out on patrol,” he said.

  I shrugged. “I’ll manage,” I said. I was so hungry I could have managed almost anything.

  Johnny watched me appraisingly as I ate. “So,” he said. “Troubleshooter, you say? That’s—well, what is that? Personal secretary, what?”

  Apparently, it was his turn for information, though why he cared what I did, I didn’t know.

  “You been here so long you never heard of Women’s Lib? You just assume a woman’s a secretary and that a secretary’s job isn’t important?”

  “Didn’t mean to ruffle any feathers.”

  I laughed. “Actually, you didn’t, I just couldn’t resist. I do—did!—sort of a combination thing. I have a Master’s Degree in Finance and Management. I trailed around behind the company CEO tying up loose ends, cleaned up messes, double and triple checked behind every other department in the company, it seemed like, sometimes. And kept all the company entertainment and public relations scheduling straight, tried to keep Carlos straight—that’s the CEO—did a lot of the planning and coordination for that. I troubleshot. Whatever trouble popped up. Which actually made me a glorified secretary, I guess.”

  Johnny whistled. “No, I definitely wouldn’t call you a secretary, glorified or otherwise. Ramos is that big now, huh? Wouldn’t have thought ole’ Fernando’d give up the reins so lightly.”

  “He didn’t have much choice. He had some health problems.”

  “He’s changed, if that stopped him.”

  “He wants to live long enough to make sure Carlos settles down and produces the next CEO before he dies.”

  Johnny looked at me sharply. “You a candidate for that? Producing the next CEO?”

  I felt the blood rushing to my cheeks. “I worked my butt off to get through college and grad school on my own. I got my job on my own. I didn’t sleep my way into it!”

  “Sorry, wasn’t intended as an insult. I’m sure you’re a pistol at whatever you put your mind to doing. Any normal single man working that close with a woman looks like you bound to try to mix business and pleasure. That’s all I meant.”

  I’d have to watch Johnny. He carried off the good ole’ boy southwestern drawl well, but he was sharp, no doubt about it. That was an excellent retraction. It would probably work on most women. It even earned him a few Brownie points with me, just for the sheer quick thinking.

  “And why do you care what I did or what I can do?”

  Johnny cocked his head and looked at me thoughtfully. “One trait of these Truscan Kings, they don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Dalph’s father figured folks who could fly through the air had to be good for something, and made me Dalph’s tutor. He was seven years old when I came through. Have to say, I’m no scientist or doctor or teacher, but just by being raised in our world, in our time, I’ve been pretty handy to have around over the years. With your education, good Lord, baby girl, do you know how valuable you can be in this world? To Trusca?”

  “You don’t think we’re on earth at all, do you?”

  “Oh, not hardly,” he admitted.

  “Where do you think we are? In relation to earth?”

  “Know any of the theories on that stretch of ocean? The water between Florida and the Caribbean Islands, clean on up to the Carolina coasts?”

  “The Bermuda Triangle. The Devil’s Triangle. Of course I do. Ken and I used to laugh about it. That was my pilot’s name. Ken Hanslett.”

  “Thought a lot of him, didn’t you? Knew him real well?”

  “Flown out with him a good many times. Ramos does a lot of entertaining in Jamaica.”

  “Okay, well, I lean towards the theory that there are portals in the Triangle. To somewhere else. Seeing as how we both apparently went through one. Though whether it’s the only one, whether it’s a time warp, or an entrance to another dimension or—Einstein, you know, didn’t he have this theory of…?”

  “Parallel worlds. Bodies co-existing in the same space but in different dimensions...”

  “Yeah. And this place, it ain’t earth, Tess. Not our earth, not in any time, past or present. The sun looks different, the stars. Look up there.”

  I raised my head and looked. The night sky was black velvet, the stars diamond chips. The moon was bigger than my moon had ever been, almost but not quite full, and like the sunlight, its rays were much more reddish.

  “It’s beautiful but—”

  “Those aren’t our constellations. And there’s no North Star.”

  “But there’s no North Star in the Southern Hemisphere, either.”

  “No, but they’re wrong, Tess. They’re still all wrong. But so much is right, just different. Look at the Truscans. Handsome group of men, aren’t they?”

  I looked around the group. “Oh, yeah.”

  “All the Truscans are. And those skins you’re sitting on. They come from animals that don’t look much different from our bears. We call ’em ursuts. That drink you’re drinking, the meat you’re eating. All those are pre
tty comparable. And the atmosphere and gravity field, got to be like Earth’s. You and I wouldn’t be sitting here breathing otherwise. So yeah, I think it’s a parallel world. Earth. Sort of. Just not ours.”

  “You said Trusca was the last holdout against the Prian Empire.”

  “Yeah, and then there’s Pria. There was this television show that was on in the 60s. The re-runs had a big cult following in my day, you probably never heard of it, young as you are. Science fiction show, you know, space explorers exploring new worlds…”

  ‘“It’s life, Jim, but not as we know it,’” I said in my best Spock mumble.

  Johnny grinned. “Still got a cult following?”

  “More than that. Resurrected. Star Trek: The Next Generation and Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. Four or five movies, too. And an animated series.”

  “Well, I’ll be damned. Fancy that.”

  “So what’s the connection?”

  “Well, the Prians make the Klingons look like pussycats. Pretty pussycats.”

  “The Klingons are the good guys now, sorry. The Romulans are the villains.”

  “That can’t be right. We got to have a long talk, darlin’. But the Prians, they’re some of the ugliest motherhumpers ever created.”

  I laughed at the paraphrasing. “What do they look like?”

  “Well, they’re short, probably the tallest is no more than five three or so. Broad. Very strong. And their faces—almost no foreheads, eyes like Porky Pig, nose like a flat snout, big mouths. In fact, imagine a pig that’s turned human but not cute and you’d be pretty close.”

  I protested. “That’s impossible. The Truscans—”

  “I don’t think all intelligent life in this world came from the same evolutionary base like it did on Earth. I mean, in our world, all the humans are still human, right? But not here. They’re humanoid, I guess. In form. But not in any other way. The big pig’s name is Kruska. And in the last thirty years, the Prians have taken over Andovia, Motravia, Frescia, and Tarn. Trusca’s all that’s left. And Dalph says they can’t have it.”

  I sat and digested this information.

  “Is there any technology at all in this world?”

  Johnny laughed softly. “This world, Tess, this world and all her countries, they run on something else.”

  “What?”

  “Magic.”

  “Come again, please?”

  “Magic. Portents and omens and talismans. Power Stones.”

  “And you believe that?”

  “One more time, Tess. You ain’t in Kansas anymore. And you need to try and start letting it sink in. You’ll never be there again. There is no way back.”

  “Have others come through? Besides you and me?”

  Randalph of Trusca sat patiently through this long exchange, offering no comment for translation. His eyes continually shifted around the camp as though even during semi-leisure he couldn’t relax his vigil as leader. Now he got up and addressed the men.

  “Dalph says it’s time to bed down. He wants to be back in Trussa tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Trussa? His capital, then?”

  “Yeah. We’ll talk some more tomorrow. You can’t take in everything all at once. And I tell you what, I’m not as young as I used to be. Every patrol I go out on, I swear it’s the last.”

  I got to my feet, and one of the Truscans came over and rearranged the furs, making a gesture indicating this was my bed. They were very thoughtful, placing me as near the fire as safely possible.

  “We’ll see about getting you some clothes when we get back,” said Johnny. “I think you’ll like the style. You’ll fit in great. The Truscan women are real lookers, just like the men.”

  I silently acknowledged the left-handed compliment.

  Johnny spread his skins on one side of mine with Randalph on the other.

  “No offense intended,” he said. “Just thought you might feel more secure this way.”

  “None taken. Sorry I’ve been so much trouble.”

  “Oh hell, hon! Anything for a fellow American.” He flopped down and sighed deeply.

  I hesitated over my next question.

  “And you’re completely loyal to Dalph by choice? Outside coercion not a factor? Like maybe they’d draw and quarter you?”

  He rose back up on one elbow. The moon wasn’t full, but it was close and the reddish glow was strong enough to reveal his expression.

  “Take this to the bank, Tess Ames, and don’t ever doubt it. Dalph is the best last hope, the only chance this world has to survive Pria. Believe it.”

  “Would you tell him I appreciate his protection?”

  “Just get on his horse with him tomorrow without a fight. He’ll figure it out. Goodnight, darlin’.”

  “That’s not a horse.”

  Soft laughter. “No, it’s not, we call them faltons. Dalph can introduce you to him tomorrow, too.”

  I settled back against the fur, prepared to lie wakeful for a long time while I tried to sort this out.

  “Johnny?”

  “What, darlin’?”I knew from his voice he’d been near sleep already.

  “You’re the Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court, aren’t you?”

  There was a long pause. “I like that, Tess. I like it a lot. That’s you and me, all right. We’ll talk some more tomorrow.”

  I lay back and listened to the quiet, even breaths of the two men beside me. I hadn’t exaggerated when I’d told Johnny that I’d worked my butt off to get through college and grad school. I’d scratched and clawed my way up from nothing to do it, too, a true American Dream success story. The girl from the wrong side of the tracks with nothing but brains and determination. I’d been told pretty often I had the looks to make it a lot easier, but I’d never wasted much time cultivating the said looks. I didn’t think they were anything exceptional and certainly knew they wouldn’t last forever.

  I don’t know who was more shocked when Carlos Ramos, Crown Prince of Ramos International, began actively wooing his double MA troubleshooter—me or his grandfather. Fernando Ramos had hired me strictly on my résumé and on the assumption, bluntly stated, that his grandson wouldn’t be interested in brains, and would therefore keep his mind on the business where it belonged. He was wrong.

  I’d never believed that Carlos, considered one of the world’s most eligible bachelors since his early twenties on the strength of his combined wealth, looks, and electric personality, Paparazzi bait of the first order, could possibly have any long-term interest in me. And I still didn’t believe that I’d actually succumbed to his considerable charms. Oh, but I had. I guess all those years of being outside the “in” crowd made the temptation to be one of the beautiful people, even by association, irresistible. I comforted myself with reassurances that I’d succumbed under my own terms. There was a firm line between business and pleasure and there wasn’t any sexual harassment involved. I’d never claim there was. But when the end came, if a working relationship became impossible, Carlos wouldn’t try to blacklist me and would, in fact, actively help me move to another corporation. I supposed my faith in that might be considered naïve by some and it was in fact probably the only reckless thing I’d ever done in my life-long drive to ensure personal security.

  I wasn’t reckless enough to have fallen completely in love with him, though. Men like Carlos Ramos didn’t marry women like me. I was just a pleasant interlude, a convenient pleasant interlude, and therefore, I made sure that’s all I ever intended for him to be. But I’d miss him. He was probably tearing around the Jamaican airport right now, barking orders, driving the Coast Guard crazy, and trying to head up sea and air rescue himself. He’d miss me, too. But not for all that long, I was sure. I closed my eyes and let him go.

  “Good-bye, Carlos,” I whispered into the Truscan night and finally slept.

  Chapter Three

  I didn’t feel as though I’d been asleep longer than a few minutes when I woke in response to someone shaking my shoulder.

>   “No, Johnny, it can’t be morning,” I said, without opening my eyes.

  “Well, it is,” said a voice, considerably further away than it would have been if he was the one doing the shaking. My eyes flew open and I stared into the face of Randalph of Trusca, who smiled slightly and inclined his head forward. If Johnny’d been his tutor since he was seven, it was clear that English hadn’t been included in the curriculum. Well, Johnny was obviously fluent in Truscan. I hoped it wasn’t a hard language to learn. Dalph extended his hand and offered me a mug of fragrant friesa.

  He straightened up and without the need for spoken commands, his men broke camp with a speed that astounded me. Johnny called over that if I needed to make a trip behind the bushes, I had best do it now.

  “He’ll wait on me?”

  Johnny laughed. “Darlin’, some things just don’t change and comfort calls are one of ’em.”

  I made a dash for the designated bushes, and when I came out, Randalph of Trusca was standing beside the horse, no, falton, that’s what Johnny’d told me the creature was last night. He held the reins loosely as he looked at me and raised one eyebrow. I walked over and stood, indicating that I was waiting for assistance to mount.

  Johnny laughed softly from the side and Dalph smiled and lifted me up, swinging easily into the saddle behind me. I sniffed. Falton or no, he still smelled like a horse. It was a good smell; Carlos was an excellent horseman and owned some beauties. I’d become quite a good equestrian myself.

  “What’s his name?” I called over to Johnny.

  “Pegasus,” Johnny answered. “For reasons that’ll be obvious when you see him break loose and run. That bad boy flies, even without wings.”

  “Greek mythology? But how would Dalph know anything about—”

  I broke off as Pegasus moved into a smooth rhythm, faster than an ordinary canter—though even I could tell it was nothing approaching the speed at which the animal could actually move. In a matter of seconds he was well ahead of the other riders. I’d ask about the name later. I settled back and watched the country go past.

  It was beautiful. Rolling, easy hills, interspersed with green meadows, topped with stands of large trees. I couldn’t correlate them to any trees on earth, though they put me in mind of oaks.