GABRIEL (The Innerworld Affairs Series, Book 4)

by Marilyn Campbell

  "So," Romulus began as his family took seats in the living area. "Our options have just been narrowed. Without being able to question our visitor from the future in greater depth, there is no way of guessing the exact time period he spoke about. A warning to all future generations might be sufficient. Then again—"

  "Then again," Aster broke in, completing her mate's sentence, "depending on how far in the future this takes place, the warning could create a different set of problems, just as he prophesied."

  Roman had his own ideas on the matter. "If we knew the date, we could use the old guy's time device to send someone forward to snatch Khameira before he gains control. Since we can't do that, maybe we could get to one of his ancestors in our time. What about that theory of yours, Shara? Can you really figure out who the tyrant's ancestors are by that lock of hair?"

  "I think so. I'll have to read my own research paper to see how I finally figure it out, but basically, I believe that the memory molecule contains the pattern of every direct ancestor of an individual. Each person has his own identifying pattern that gets added to those inherited. Analysis of a hair sample should result in a complete list of ancestral patterns. The method involves testing other people and looking for a matchup. In other words, somewhere in Outerworld right now is a direct ancestor of Khameira. Prevent that person from reproducing and Khameira would never be born."

  Aster shook her head doubtfully. "I don't see how you could accomplish that. There are billions of people out there and only a fraction of them have their DNA on file anywhere. Besides the physical impracticality of testing that many people in your lifetime, it would be impossible to get everyone's cooperation."

  "That leaves only Lantana's suggestion," Shara declared. "He obviously thought out all the same possibilities we did. I must go back to Norona, to the time before the rebels were exiled to Terra. There were only a few hundred people sent to live on the surface. All I'd have to do is test each person in that group, find the one with a pattern that matches one of Khameira's and stop that person from going."

  Before Shara completed her last sentence, Romulus was up and pacing. "Hold it right there. You've jumped right over three important facts. One, Lantana did not explain how to use his device. Two, even if he had or you could figure it out yourself, time travel is prohibited. And three, you are hardly qualified for a mission that would obviously entail considerable risk."

  "On the contrary, Father, it is my theory that will be on trial and my equipment that will be used. No one is better qualified than I. As far as any risk involved, I am no less qualified than mother was when she helped prevent this planet from being destroyed by an asteroid and rescued you after you were abducted by that demented Terran, Gordon Underwood."

  Romulus clearly was not happy with the comparison. Despite what he had said to Roman earlier, he still thought of Shara as his little girl, even though she was approaching her thirtieth year. "Remember, your mother was not alone. She had a highly skilled tracker accompanying her." Romulus preferred not to think about what might have happened to him or Aster had it not been for the special skills of their empathic friend, Falcon.

  "Then I'll engage a guardian to protect me. Perhaps Falcon would like a change of scenery. It must be about time for him to take a break from Outerworld's stress factors again."

  "You know he rarely leaves his Terran family these days." Giving her suggestion only a moment's consideration, Romulus returned to the original problem. "Besides, a guardian wouldn't help if you don't have authorization to make the trip. I'll compose a communication to the Ruling Tribunal tonight, relaying Lantana's warnings. I'll add a request for permission for someone to make the trip he advised, if the tempometer can be figured out. But, as Lantana mentioned, no one knows precisely what effect time travel might have, so I doubt if the Tribunal would allow such a risk. At any rate, we have to leave the final decision up to them."

  Shara frowned but said nothing. At least he hadn't personally refused her outright. It seemed obvious to her that every avenue, even one against the law or with a high risk factor, should be investigated to prevent the disaster Lantana warned them of. But no one could predict how the Tribunal would respond. As she helped her family recall Lantana's description of the future, she leafed through the pages of the research monograph he had brought her.

  It took only a quick scan to confirm that this was indeed her work and that completion of the genetic tracking program she had been struggling with was now in her hands. While they awaited the Tribunal's decision, she would go ahead with her research. When approval for the time travel came through, she wanted to be ready to go.

  It was inconceivable to her that the Tribunal would refuse permission when the future of both Norona and Terra depended on it. It was also beyond her imagination that they could turn down her request to go when she was so close to proving her theories about the memory molecule firsthand. No one needed to know that her research had a personal as well as scientific basis.

  She was only a child when she had set her goal and it was one of her classmates who had pushed her toward it. The little boy had called her a Terran and made an awful face when he said it. Shara had asked her teacher what the word meant, but the definition—a human born on the surface of the planet and whose ancestors were also Outerworld natives—did not seem to apply to her. Nor did she understand why being a Terran, even if she was one, would cause the boy to sneer at her.

  When, a few days later, that same boy had made up a cruel song about Shara being a "mixed-breed" and encouraged the other children to join in the fun, Shara asked her parents to explain. That day she learned the truth. Her father was pure Noronian but her mother was a Terran, an inferior species of humanoids. In order for Shara to understand, her parents had explained how they had met.

  When the Noronians first established their mining colony in the center of the Terra, they had considered the fact that the native Terrans being humanoid like themselves was an advantage, since a group of Noronians were to be left on the surface. They could easily integrate with the primitive inhabitants. It was never intended for any Terrans to be brought into Innerworld, however.

  Tunnels were bored through Terra's twelve magnetic fields for the Noronian ships to travel in and out. Unfortunately, as Terra's population grew, accidents occurred. Because of the magnetism, a Terran vessel occasionally moved into a tunnel doorway undetected just as the doorway was being opened and the people on board were transported into Innerworld. The Noronians considered these Terrans dangerous and inferior but they could not risk revealing their presence by sending them back.

  Aster Mackenzie arrived in Innerworld because of one of those accidents but fate had surely had a hand in it.

  At the time Aster arrived, there was a strong taboo against Noronian Innerworlders fraternizing with the transplanted Terrans. Nevertheless, Romulus, who had just been nominated for the Governorship of the colony, was irresistibly drawn to Aster and she to him. When they were both stricken by the Noronian mating fever, Romulus knew they were destined to be together. But merely being together was not enough to satisfy the fiery craving of the fever. Although there was no record of it ever happening before between a Noronian and a Terran, Aster and Romulus's souls were crying out to each other. The only cure was joining, which eternally bonded two people mentally and spiritually, and a joining between their races was forbidden by law.

  After risking their lives to prevent Terra being hit by an asteroid, Romulus and Aster petitioned the Ruling Tribunal of Norona for special permission to join. Aster's bravery and loyalty during the crisis carried considerable weight but it was the proclamation by the Tribunal that Aster was distantly related to a Noronian that tipped the scales.

  Aster became Romulus's mate through the sacred joining ceremony and they were appointed Co-Governors of Innerworld—a post they had held ever since.

  The Tribunal's proclamation satisfied most of the people, but there were die-hard bigots who refused to accept it as truth. There were
others who accepted it but assumed the drop of Noronian blood Aster inherited had to have been from an inferior Noronian to begin with. In their minds, a Terran could never be their equal and they passed that prejudice down to their children.

  As the first child born from a mixed joining, Shara was considered a precious symbol of the future by some and an unholy freak by others. Her parents' joining had been expected to mark a change in the way Noronian Innerworlders viewed Terran Innerworlders, but prejudice occasionally still bubbled beneath a façade of civility. Only a handful of other mixed joinings had been publicly recorded since and just two of those had borne children. Because of their parentage, Shara and Roman's status as "mixed-breeds" was common knowledge throughout the colony.

  That fateful day, over twenty years ago, Shara had determined to find a way to prove Aster's Noronian ancestry and thereby remove the clouds surrounding her own heritage. Her choice of a career in genetics had been based on the desire for that proof, her excessive ambition driven by that goal. Now, unexpectedly, the means had been handed to her, and nothing was going to stop her from taking advantage of the opportunity.

  With part of her mind listening to her family and part still wandering in the past, she almost overlooked the last few pages in her hand. The word tempometer caught her eye and she took a second look. The final pages detailed Lantana's research rather than her own. He had included his experimental findings, schematics for the device, a set of operating instructions, and a final, handwritten note which read:

  My life is ending. There is no more time to perfect my tempometer. I must try it as is and hope that I come close to the time period I seek. Although I believe I have figured out how to make a time-hop from one century to another, I have not uncovered the secret of making a time-hop shorter than a hundred years.

  Shara was about to show everyone the pages but something held her back. It occurred to her that her father was only going through the motions of requesting permission to time travel because he didn't really believe she could figure out how to use the device. For a while, she decided, she would keep this information to herself.

  * * *

  A month later there was still no word from the Tribunal but Shara had made considerable progress on her projects. Her genetic tracking program was nearing completion. After secretly borrowing the tempometer for analysis, she began studying Lantana's notes and gained a fair knowledge of how to operate the device.

  With much less enthusiasm, she had done some research into the time period she was intending to go back to. She had always excelled at science and math. History, on the other hand, was a subject that left her in the dust. But she realized the necessity of understanding the era in order to return to it even for a short time.

  She knew the basics as well as any other Innerworlder. A little over twelve thousand years ago, a fuel shortage threatened to cripple the entire planet of Norona. Expeditions were sent throughout the universe in search of a new source of volterrin, the rare material upon which the technology of Norona was structured. After centuries of futile exploration, volterrin was discovered in abundance in the inner core of the planet Terra.

  Now, so many centuries later, Norona was still dependent upon Innerworld to provide its volterrin. The disaster Lantana had spoken of would cause all trade to be cut off, creating another crisis situation on Norona. Shara was certain that fact alone would convince the Tribunal to approve her journey into the past.

  Although most of the population of Norona had rejoiced when the volterrin source was first discovered, there was a small group of dissidents who attempted to sabotage the efforts to import the mineral. These rebels wanted Norona to be forced to return to simpler times and to give up modern technology completely. The rebellion was short-lived and a suitable punishment decided upon. A primitive species of humanoids inhabited Terra's surface at that time. Since the rebels wanted to live in a simpler time, they were exiled to live among those less civilized humans.

  Shara knew she would have to learn a lot more about those rebels in order to obtain cell samples from each. The easiest sample to collect discreetly would be a strand of hair but it still required her to come in close contact with them. Wishing she had paid more attention when she was in school, she promised herself to set aside a few days to study whatever material could be found on the rebels.

  Though she heard the door to her lab open and close, Shara needed to complete a calculation before she greeted her visitor. She knew someone was speaking but she blocked out the voice and kept her gaze locked on the viewer before her so as not to lose her train of thought. The pressure of a strong hand on her shoulder accomplished what the voice had not.

  "Ahem!"

  Annoyed at the interruption, Shara slanted a glance at the fingers spread over her shoulder. The closely pared, unpolished nails and the smattering of fine blond hair on the large hand identified her visitor as a man. Her gaze continued up a bare forearm to an aqua jersey loosely covering a pair of well-developed shoulders. Intending to deliver a glare that would have most men pleading for forgiveness, she swiveled her chair toward him and raised her eyes.

  Her intended glare lost its hostility as she caught sight of his attractive, almost boyish features. His crown of blond curls, sky-blue eyes and long eyelashes would have seemed more fitting on a Terran angel. But the warm body standing much too close to hers was definitely not that of a spirit. A plain gold earcuff on his left lobe was the only adornment that was not given him by nature. He epitomized the type of man she avoided at all costs. Her irritation increased as she realized that instead of pleading, he appeared to be patiently waiting for an apology from her.

  Lifting his wrist with her thumb and forefinger, she removed his hand then brushed the spot on her shirt where his hand had been. "Now that you've succeeded in interrupting me, what is it you want?"

  His features lost some of their angelic quality as he glowered at her. "You mean you didn't hear any of what I said when I came in?"

  Shara gave an exaggerated sigh. "Of course not. I was in the middle of a calculation. Everyone knows better than to try to talk to me until I look up from my work."

  "I'm afraid your personal work habits are not as widely known as you'd like to think. If you don't wish to be disturbed, you should put a sign on your door. That's what I do, and it is most effective."

  Shara got off her stool to face the exasperating man on a more equal level and was disturbed at having to look up to meet his eyes. At a height that neared six feet with her boot heels, she didn't have to do that very often. "I don't particularly care what method you find effective. You've interrupted me and I would like to get back to work. So you may either repeat yourself or leave." As she had done a moment ago, he now took a turn scanning her from head to toe. He stared at her eyes for so long that Shara blushed—something she couldn't remember doing for years. "Well?"

  "Very interesting," he said, continuing to stare. "I had been told Shara Locke was a forerunner in her field, although a bit impatient and not the friendliest person one might meet. Obviously that was a fair description. On the other hand, I had expected a much more... mature woman. Tell me, do you have any control over the way your eyes change color, or is it involuntary?"

  Shara opened her mouth to respond but wasn't certain what she wanted to say. It sounded as though he had just complimented and insulted her at the same time. And she certainly didn't intend to volunteer the truth about her eyes. She didn't know who he was but she was positive she shouldn't give him any ammunition that might later be used against her. Like her father, Shara's hazel irises changed colors depending on her moods, which made it virtually impossible to hide her feelings from anyone who knew her. She always thought of it as fate's way of counterbalancing her special mental gifts.

  Deciding it was better not to answer him at all, she turned back to the calculation displayed on her monitor. "Please excuse me. I really am very busy."

  "Getting ready for your trip back in time?"

  She gaspe
d as she spun around again. "How do you know about that?"

  He smiled, a wide, self-assured grin that showed off perfect white teeth and a deep dimple in his cheek. "Surely you didn't think you could keep something like that a secret. The rumors are flying throughout the scientific community."

  When he didn't receive the response he expected, he stopped smiling. "Perhaps it would be best if I simply began again." He held out his hand to her and waited until she accepted it for a brief, impersonal shake. "I am Gabriel Drumayne, Professor of History and Chief Procurer of Antiquities for Norona. Although I do have an office and residence in Innerworld, I spend very little time here, so I realize you may not recognize me. But you must be familiar with my name."

  Shara did not hesitate to stick a pin in his arrogant little balloon. "I am very sorry to disillusion you, Professor, but your fame is not as widespread as you imagine it to be. I've never heard of you."

  His smirk told her he found that hard to believe. "Nevertheless, you are hoping to receive permission to travel back in time. You will undoubtedly need an expert on Noronian and Terran history to accompany you on such a landmark venture. As I am the most qualified historian available, I will be going with you."

  Chapter 2

  Shara swallowed the retorts that popped into her head, Says who and Don't bet your airship on it being two of the less profane comments his egotistical declaration prompted. Smothering a laugh at her own contrariness, she opted for a less aggressive line. "I believe I might have something to say about that." With a dismissive air, she returned to her work.

  Again his hand closed over her shoulder, this time turning her back toward him. "You aren't just unfriendly, you're rude. I can't believe the Co-Governors' daughter hasn't been taught better manners."