OF CRIMSON INDIGO: TALES OF THE MASTER-BUILDERS

by Grant Fausey

  Tee shook his head, but didn't answer. Instead, he listened and watched. Treads bent over Callen with a hand held scanner, and looked up at Relix and Tee. Another taller living machine, Clicks, moved to the other side of Callen and placed both of his hands under the human's head. "Ready," he said quietly. "Lift on three––One, two, three."

  "All right," said Treads. "Let's get him to the infirmary." He nodded to Jerolda Manchi, and spoke loud and clear. "Jerolda Manchi, get the hatch will you––" Tee looked out the entrance, standing back as the door sealed shut before him.

  "Well––" he said speaking softly in a whisper. "I guess they've taken the bait."

  ––– 31 –––

  THE FORTRESS

  From the drivers seat Rallumn's fortress looked like a tiny island of green in the midst of impassible ice flows and snowdrifts: A rose on the horizon lifting into the sky from a base covered in thick vegetation. The skimmer banked shapely, rocketing above the edge of the ice cliffs on a course toward the twin moons in the background, while the curve of a third sphere crested the horizon just beyond the towers of the castle fortress.

  "There it is!" shouted Kristic, brushing the snow from his face. "And just in time––I'm freezing to death!" Travis laughed. Kristic was right. The wind was bitter cold and there was no safety in adventure. He wanted the security of his room back on Trithen; the assurance of being cuddled under his blankets next to his heater. But the harsh reality was anything but safe. The cloud skimmer was fast, but not very air worthy. It was all Travis could do to keep the flying boat in the air, let alone get the tiny craft to touch down on one of the large branches of the fortress.

  "The landing could be a little shaky," said Travis, "better brace yourself."

  "I'm ready!" answered Kristic.

  The Fortress was nearly under them, when Travis banked the car one last time hard to the left, circling the structure as he passed over the islands in the sky that surrounded the fortress. "An alcove..." he said with relief. "That looks good––yeah, that one near the top. That will do nicely. The fortress blocks the wind from it. That's a good a place as any to make a landing."

  The skimmer's motors fired in hover mode and the craft weaved back and forth in the wind touching down a few feet in front of the castle's wooden doors. "That's good enough...” yelled Travis letting go of the controls. “Let's get out of this wind."

  Adrenaline pounded through his body as he pushed in on the giant doors, revealing a dark silence of the interior. Kristic looked at Travis with envious eyes like the intrepid explorer he had become. He was about to enter Rallumn's fortress. The double doors loomed open, yawning like the throat of the beast. Travis forced his legs to move. The interior was eerie quiet––almost dead.

  His eyes widened in desperation, attempting to see through the darkness to the maze that formed the interior. The air was murky, smelling of decay. Nevertheless, somehow Travis seemed to remember it as if he had lived here all his life. "I've been here before," he confided in Kristic. "It's all to familiar like deja vu."

  "Come closer," bellowed the mechanical beast in the darkness. Like centuries before, the fortress was a vast complex of mechanized marvels each blending together to form a single source of living material. It was hard to deal with, the sheer size of the fortress was overwhelming and for a moment, Travis felt powerless.

  "Do not be afraid, young one. I know why you have come, young knight. Wisdom is not all that you require." Travis stared at he moving parts with watchful eyes. The creaking sound of worn parts extended the wizard’s slow descent toward his visitors. "Stand tall," Rallumn, said unremitting. "Are you not a warrior of the light? One of the twelve ... a son of Alvericon?"

  "One of the Twelve," Travis said to Kristic. "What does he mean?"

  "Come closer," repeated the voice in the darkness. "Learn that which you are here to know, my old friend." Travis stepped away from Kristic, persuaded by something within him; being urged to join the huge machine that hovered before him. Rallumn's arms wavered with old age, withered and tattered like the splintered wood of an ancient tree supported by a cradle of branches.

  "You need not search further," alleged the machine's voice, echoing in the vacancy of the throne room. "But rather within. All that you seek can be answered from the heart, Travis. Allow that which you feel to surface and support you in your confrontation with those responsible for the acts within your life. They too must seek you out. Be assured, my friend that your paths cross many times."

  Travis bowed his head and backed away. "Do not be tricked by the shadows in the night, Travis. The future seeks you, listen and hear its calls. Seek the past. Only united can you stand against the darkness that stalks the light."

  Travis suffered, overwhelmed by the ordeal like a bump on a log waiting to explode. Suddenly, desperately, his mind filled with the crest of rising fear. Somehow he knew this was a part of him. Perhaps, a heritage of desperation: Déjà vu … anything by demonstration and fear: Then came the wizard's words meant for Maccon, not him. And that was something he had to overcome.

  "Remember your time of need; the sphere and the Source. Find the power, it will be there when you need it."

  Travis bound on the edge; the presence inside of him had become more a part of him than he dared admit. For the first time in his life, he could feel the source: The universal presence and awareness. He was at odds with himself––eventually the embodiment of Maccon within him would become overpowering; so much so, that he would either have to forget who he was, or confront the self head on, which would reduce him to a part of the whole.

  In essence that part of him that was Maccon would live or die, the same as Indigo centuries before.

  ––– 32 –––

  ALEXANDER GRAY

  On the barrier station OR567L, Alexander was suspended in the darkness, held upside down by straps that were barely visible in the dim light. Electrical beams danced around him, while Gem stared at him through the clear wall that separated her from the other side of their prison. Her mind raced, attempting to find a way out of the lesson she was being forced to witness. The torment was unbearable; yet she tried to keep her mind occupied, so she wouldn't hear his screams. The intent was good, but the result added a treacherous hand to Max's already evil cast within the shadow of the insect he really was.

  "So trader––" he said, moving around Alexander pulling his head up with a grip on his hair, his voice etching the dark. The sound summoned Gem like a strong magnet. There was no way of pulling away from it with a jerk of her head. "Why are …”

  Max didn't answer. He wanted her to stew for a while longer, before he "boiled her in her own pudding" so to speak. Besides, the stare of his two power-hungry assistants was enough to tell her what he wanted her to know––she was in the devil's domain; his domain. Alexander passed out of her view, drug into the next room.

  "The Emperor wants to insure his safety," grappled Max's henchmen, toying with her fear. "You two are the key to his success; he just wants a little bargaining room, that's all."

  "The Emperor wants you lightly toasted. I want you burnt," said Max, grabbing a hold of Gem's hair.

  "Kellnar doesn't want him dead just more cooperative, that's all. You on the other hand ... you're at my mercy."

  Max motioned with his hand and the guards latched onto Gem's arms like a couple of leaches. Max gripped her by the chin, pressing his fingers into her face. "Fry her if you like," he commanded. "Just leave a little for me. I've other plans for her after she's well done."

  ––– 33 –––

  CRUSTY

  Kristic's Beamrider couldn't hurtle across a backyard, let alone space. Somehow, they had to find passage to a point on the barrier along the Nexus. The next available transport seemed a likely choice, except there weren't any next available transports. The spaceport was empty, devoid of human kind and any form of reasonable transportation. The next resupply was long overdue, and naturally every one was placing the blame on the irregul
arity of Trinod Rex's haulers––they had disappeared from the universe. The only thing that even remotely resembled a chance at getting off the ground was the two Atlantis Beamrider starships docked at pad ninety-three. There were two ships, one that had just came out of the past, the other which was destined for somewhere on the frontier. The one en route to the frontier seemed the best bet. Time travel was confusing and unless one was up on the intricate methods of post excursion, and pre-expedition, an individual could get lost forever.

  The fact that anyone made it back at all was outstanding. Travis knew as Kristic did, the longer they stayed on Telta Minor, the more likely it was that failure would abound them. They had to get off world, as soon as possible. Travis, however, was preoccupied, weary from his lack of sleep but he was still hard at it, studying a holographic projection of what Kristic had managed to produce from a mirror–image within the medallion's light. The projection of the Nexusphere rotated silently in a slow turn.

  "So..." said Travis. "What have you discovered? An all mighty wizard?" Kristic laughed.

  "Not a damn thing!” he said. There wasn’t much point in lying. He really hadn’t found what he was looking for anyway. “It doesn't matter what I do I just can't make heads or tales out of this thing. I guess it doesn't matter anyway, if we don't find a way off this bucket, who's going to care?"

  Shroom watched the image with the same intensity as Travis. They both yawned at the same time. The image faded, becoming pulses of light that changed the flow of electrons around the medallion. "That's enough for now," said Travis. "I can't stand to look at the damn thing, anymore. What the hell does a pillar of light have to do with anything, anyway? There has to be something we're overlooking; something that..."

  Kristic stopped him mid-sentence, watching a small biomechanical Trod as he entered the ship through the open hatch and climbed up onto the cushion next to Travis. "Crusty," said Kristic wide-eyed with a smile. "Is that really you?" A tear dripped from Kristic’s eye. There wasn't much to say. His game was up and old friends were old friends. "I wish you a safe journey until the next regeneration," answered Kristic, smiling wildly.

  Crusty patted his old friend on the hand then scooted over to sit beside him. "I see you’re as good a housekeeper as you ever where. How do you expect this bucket to fly, looking like this? When was the last time you changed the oil, anyway?"

  Kristic looked about at the instruments. "You want to give it a shot, or do you have a better idea?"

  Crusty laughed, and made a few calculations. "Not on your life," he continued sarcastically. This scrap metal wouldn't make it to the moon, let alone to the barrier. That is unless you give me a couple of hours to get the engines into restart." Travis flicked a button and nothing lit up. He switched the switch off again. "It's going to take longer than a couple of … hours to"

  "Rallumn told me the future was dimly lit, Kristic," said Crusty interrupting. "I don't understand what that means exactly, but there's too much at stake here to try and be the savior of a galaxy, let alone the universe. I don't have any idea of what I'm supposed to be doing, who these people are or what a taker–of–life is. But if you need my help––I can still crew a ship! And a good one!"

  "I don't know all the answers either, Crusty," said Travis. "But we're the ones with the guiding light, remember?"

  Crusty gazed up at him and smiled. "Then what we waiting for, let's eat!"

  "I have to level with you,” whispered Kristic. “There are some sinister factors at work here. We've no course but to pick a path and hope it's the right direction. There are too many possibilities we know nothing about. It's obvious, the Industries have somehow returned in time to alter the future. We're not even sure which time is the focal point. If we win, freedom will rule the galaxy. If we lose, then believe me, the Industrials will destroy all hope of survival. The best we can do is try to keep it alive."

  Travis paused for a long time, before looking back at Kristic. His mind was racing around in his head to the point of getting dizzy, and that was just from trying to understand all that was going on. It was like being a computer without enough memory to make it work. "This is crazy, Kristic," muttered Travis. "We've an enemy, but how do you fight him. How do we use time itself?"

  Kristic didn't answer, but Crusty did: "The best you can with what you have. That's the answer."

  He was just as confused as Travis.

  ––– 34 –––

  A NEW DAWN

  Dawn flickered into existence, radiating a brilliant blue-white light on the mist line. The dividing border between the two civilizations it encircled, the world above and below. A great sailing ship skimmed across the mist like a galleon on the ocean, splitting the waves into bellowing, streams of vapor, set against a backdrop of a devouring galaxy. A feeding ground for three co-existing black stars; escape–less holes in the fabric of the universe.

  The great sailing ship angled away from the glittering city on the horizon, leaving behind the towering mining machine and the whispering wind. However, aboard the cloud-rigger, Jolland lead the way down the steep stairs of a cargo hold, following the galactic trader into the darkness within. The ship's captain lay dead on the floor in front of her. "All right, my pretty," said the galactic trader. "You might as well get comfortable. You're here for the duration." Jolland flinched, looked at the dead body and cringed. "Oh––don't let him bother you, my pretty," laughed the insolent trader stepping out into the light. "He won't be any trouble at all. He's dead already."

  The door sealed behind him and the room went completely black.

  • • •

  Callen came to in the infirmary and sat up in dazed, a rather large lump swelling on his head. "Ouch," he moaned, tapping his fingers against the bruises. "What did they hit me with anyway?"

  "Jolland's right arm just before they ripped it from the socket!" announced Tee with some added details. "If you had been looking maybe you would have seen it coming."

  "Right," said Callen, swinging his arm at the little machine. Tee ducked and Callen hit him on the back swing. "Where did they…”

  "Don't know," said Relix, "but they certainly were in a hurry, Sir."

  "Damn," said Callen, holding the top of his head. "They must have used a Trino bar on me. It feels like I was hit with a truck!"

  "A truck, Sir?"

  Callen laughed, answering Relix personally: "Never mind you wouldn't understand even if I told you what it was."

  "I probably wouldn't, Sir, but then again, I am quite knowledgeable in––"

  Tee slapped a hand over Relix’s mouth and shook his head. "Don't you ever take a hint? Shut up, will you?"

  Another Callen Sheers followed by a rather tall, grey green–skinned man entered the ship tearing open a curtain as he burst inside, screaming at Callen. "Where is she?" he demanded.

  Callen didn't answer. He looked stunned. This was an older version of Callen Sheers that demanded his attention, barking out orders like he was some kind of sheep dog. "Well––"said the other.

  "You know perfectly well where she is!"

  "Damn it," shouted Sheers. "I knew this would happen––If you hadn't gone back in time none of this would have occurred. Now look where we are; we are short another one."

  "Another one short?" said Relix, questioning the clone of Callen that he knew.

  "It's a long story," muttered the clone.

  Tanna, the green skinned individual grabbed him by the arm, and pulled him along behind him until he reached the end of the corridor leading to the exit hatch. He looked back at the older Clone of Callen Sheers, and said, "Any sign of them?"

  "No," answered the older clone, making sure he wasn't just babbling. "Come on––" Two spherical devices slice through the forest of metal surrounding the docking port, approaching the two biological targets moving within the Beamrider. They locked scanners and stood ready in a stand off, flanking the machine.

  The older Callen lead the way down the ramp, followed by Tanna, the Trods, and
finally the younger, wounded Callen. One of the machine hovered close to the ground while the other maneuvered within the trees.

  "Ziethen machines..." screamed Tanna.

  "How many?" yelled the old Callen, spinning on an axis to position him self in a fighting posture?

  "Oh shit!" shouted Callen. "For a minute I thought they out numbered us!"

  "One of these times you're going to scare me!" shouted Relix. Tanna laughed and opened fire from a squatted position. The burst of energy from his weapon exploded in the sky, striking one of the devices from behind. Immediately, the device exploded hitting the other machines in a chain reaction of events that sent shrapnel in every direction. The fight was over just as quickly as it started and, as the smoke cleared, Tanna stood up and smiled blowing the smoke from the end of his weapon's gun barrel like a late nineteenth century gunfighter. He was quite proud of himself and so was Tee.

  Tanna took off down the ramp and joined the others at the edge of the docking facility where the older clone of Callen Sheers immediately joined two other men, one with three replicas of Jolland in tow. Young Callen stared at the women; neither of them was the one he knew. His loss was definitely adding complications to the problem. Without his Jolland, there wasn't a plan.

  Tanna pushed the women down into an open hatchway in the deck plates in a rush, trying to hide them as he moved cautiously along the length of the underground refueling passageway to another hatch in the floor. The women passed through the opening, disappearing into a bright light and reappeared between two monoliths teleported to another location. They stepped out of the swirling energy into an underground city, where another elderly Callen Sheers awaited them.

  "Welcome to Trannis, ladies," gestured the old man. "This way please." Callen followed the others with a smile on his face, even if it did hurt from his bruises. Tanna brought up the rear, stepping through the portal last. "Mission accomplished," said the old clone of Callen Sheers patting Tanna on the back.