The Loved and the Lost

by Lory Kaufman

  “Unfortunately, he is correct.

  Although an elder from forward in time is my lot,

  A member of my own era’s Time Travel Council, I am not.”

  “And you can’t bring one back because of the blackout,” Parmatheon added. “Well, at least he sticks to the rules.”

  “NO!” Hansum screamed.

  “Quiet, insolent boy,” Parmatheon scolded.

  “Elder Parmatheon,” Chairwoman Barnes said harshly. “The Council may have voted one way on a particular item, but I am still the head of it.”

  “As to that, I have another vote to put forward.” And then Parmatheon spoke very slowly. “I call for a vote on the installation of a new chairperson for the Council.” The room went dead silent and Cynthia’s eyes went wide.

  “I nominate Elder Parmatheon,” a woman from Central America said, obviously as planned.

  “I second,” a man from Northern Europe added.

  Parmatheon looked hard at Cynthia. “Well, you’ve been insisting you run the meetings. Call the vote, Madam . . . chair.”

  “All . . . all in favor?” Cynthia asked, and seven hands went up.

  “Carried!” Parmatheon cried, and he quickly went to work. “Arimus, you and your radicals will be put under house surveillance until the Council can decide, once and for all, what we should do with you.”

  “Demos,” Cynthia Barnes shouted to her A.I., “Aren’t the A.I.s going to take action?”

  “Tell her, Demos,” Parmatheon said confidently. He had obviously done his homework.

  Demos looked at her human straight in the eye.

  “Cynthia. All three hundred million A.I.s have communed and debated this. We have decided,” she turned and looked at Arimus. “As people from your future can neither travel forward nor backward in time, and admit time is unfolding differently from what you know of as history, we believe it would be better for humankind to err on the side of caution and . . . do nothing at the moment.” And with that all the A.I.s backed themselves up against the longhouse wall and fell silent.

  “That’s right,” Parmatheon said. “Sometimes it’s best to do nothing!”

  “It’s not . . .” Hansum began, but Arimus pulled him aside.

  “Sideways, attend.

  Transfer yourself to our friend.”

  Instantaneously, Sideways site transported onto Hansum.

  “What are you doing?” Parmatheon asked. “No funny business.” Arimus ignored him.

  “Shamira and Kingsley, Lincoln and Medeea,

  My children, go to Hansum and of Sideways take hold.

  It is time to just do something bold.”

  “Stop! In the name of the Council I demand . . .” Parmatheon shouted, but it was already too late.

  The Sands of Time were spinning around Hansum and the other teens. The members of the Council backed away, Parmatheon’s sup-porters screaming at their A.I.s to do something. The twelve A.I.s all looked at Talos and Sideways, straining their faces. They were trying to exert some control, but the two A.I.s from the future just laughed.

  “I am the leader of this Council and you must obey me,” Parmatheon Olama shouted frantically, but nobody was listening. Arimus touched his communications node and silently communicated with the teens.

  “I cannot travel back in time, my children,

  but in your collective abilities, I have full trust.

  Go back to Verona and, without hesitation,

  do what you must.”

  “How about you and Talos,” Hansum asked. “Will you be okay?”

  “Do not fear, be off on your way.

  We’ll find fine amusements

  in Parmatheon’s angry display.”

  “We’re off on another adventure, Med,” Lincoln said, smiling.

  “Life with you is one big adventure,” she thought back.

  “Kingsley, why are you joining them?” Parmatheon called over the din of the vortex. “You’re not of the 24th-century.”

  “The same reason as Hansum,” the big man shouted back, pulling Shamira close to him. “For love.”

  The ground fell away and they were gone.

  Chapter 6

  How long ago was it that Shamira had felt so impossibly happy? An hour? She had been at the wedding, wrapped in the arms of her lover, secure in a community where people lived their lives fulfilling themselves by meeting challenges to make the world a better place. And she was engaged to be married. Married! There was so much to live for.

  But now, here she was a short time later, traveling back in a vortex to the unknown dangers of the 14th-century.

  “Snap out of it!” she said out loud.

  “What did you say, love?” Kingsley shouted over the noise of the vortex. They were again half floating, half falling. She squeezed his hand and forced a smile.

  “Nothing.”

  “Everybody,” Hansum shouted, getting their attention. He pointed to his sub-dermal and tapped it.

  ‘At least Hansum’s in the proper mindset to get right to work,’ she thought. But he’d been such a pain lately. Shamira loved him and certainly understood where his melancholy and morose attitude came from, but what was he going to be like leading this foray, especially now that they would be winging it? She knew everyone was thinking the same thing.

  “Here we are again, kids,” Hansum said through his communications implant, and there was a different tone in his inflection. “The idea of this mission was just to do reconnaissance and determine where we can intervene, and do it using out-of-phase cameras. We don’t have that option now. However, the concept is still good, except now we have to do it ourselves. So, I’m thinking we check things out carefully and come to a concensus before we act.”

  “Agreed,” Shamira said through her communications node, and she thought, ‘Hansum seems different.’

  “But now we have an added problem,” Hansum continued. “We have to be on guard in case people from the History Camp Time Council follow us.”

  “But they can’t follow easily,” Lincoln put in. “They have to use their less accurate technology. They can’t pinpoint where or when they’ll land, like we can with Sideways.”

  “Absolutely,” Hansum acknowleded. “But still we’ll have to be aware they can show up at any time.”

  “Where do you think we should start?” Kingsley asked.

  “I’m thinking we go to the cannon testing grounds, to when Feltrino attacked, and work forward from there.”

  “What are we looking for?” Shamira asked.

  “I really don’t know,” Hansum said, and as she looked across the vortex at him, there was a little smile on his face.

  “Ninety seconds,” Sideways said. “I’ll put us in the woods where we can see the battle, but still be hidden.”

  “All agreed?” Hansum asked.

  “You’re in charge,” Kingsley said.

  “One more thing,” Hansum added. “I’d like to apologize for my attitude the last while. The truth is I’ve been afraid of failure and it was affecting me. Now that I know worrying about it will make things worse, for some reason my mind has cleared.”

  “Hey, bro, I already told you,” Lincoln laughed. “We’re with ya till the end.”

  “Hey, Shamira and I haven’t had time to tell you our big news,” Kingsley crowed. “Do you mind?” Shamira smiled. “We’re going to get married.”

  The whoop of joy from everybody was so loud, they didn’t need their communicators to hear it.

  “Fantastic!” Hansum laughed. “Finally, some good news. When’s the big day?”

  “We haven’t made a date,” Shamira said. “This only happened at the wedding.”

  “How about . . . as soon as we succeed in this mission?” Kingsley suggested. “That way, Guilietta can be there.”

  “And her parents,” Lincoln added, a huge grin on his face.

  “Okay, kids,” Hansum said. “Now we have more incentive to make this thing work.”

  “Five seconds,” S
ideways announced. “And we’re here.”

  The vortex dissipated and their feet touched the soft humus of a forest floor. They were hidden among the trees and dense undergrowth. The whirlwind’s roar was replaced by the rustling of leaves and song birds. Then “BOOM!”

  “Gina!” Lincoln said, an instant smile flashing on his face. He turned toward the sound and peeked through some branches. “There we are.”

  Everybody knelt down and carefully peered through the foliage. Below them in the valley was the cannon named Gina. A huge billow of smoke was wafting away from it, exposing the familiar soldiers and officers who tended her, the younger Lincoln included. Not far from them were the captain and the lieutenant keeping track of statistics, and more soldiers and mounted knights led by Lieutenant Raguso. And finally, in his brown hat and the clothes of a noble, there stood the younger Hansum.

  “I was cute in my uniform,” Lincoln observed wryly. “And that kettle helmet saved my life. Oh, and there’s Georgio and Daveed and Caliveeta,” he added enthusiastically, and then it struck him hard. “They’re going to be dead in a few minutes.”

  Hansum put his hand on Lincoln’s shoulder. “Are you going to be okay with this, pal?” he asked.

  “No, no. I’ll be fine,” and Lincoln put on a serious face.

  “Good man.”

  “What are we looking for?” Kingsley asked.

  “Like I said, I don’t really know,” Hansum answered, and then he looked thoughtful. “We should split up, maybe leave one person here and place the others elsewhere.”

  “Like where?” Lincoln asked.

  “The Master’s house,” Hansum said.

  “Yes,” Sideways agreed. “Mistress Guilietta and her mother will be ill at this juncture. Perhaps if we watched here and there at the same time we could see if the incidents are linked.”

  “Right,” Hansum said. “Sideways, switch over to Lincoln and take everybody to Verona. Sham, you and Kingsley watch Guil. Lincoln, you and Medeea the Master, the Signora and the others at the house. And look around the neighborhood too. Sideways, after everyone’s settled, come and get me and we’ll take it from there. And remember to watch out for Parmatheon’s men. They can screw up everything.”

  In a flash, Sideways’s protective cloak was off Hansum and on Lincoln.

  “Good fit,” Lincoln said. “All right. Everyone take hold.”

  “Should we go out of phase?” Kingsley asked.

  “Excellent idea,” Lincoln agreed, and they all put a finger to the base of their necks. Lincoln took one last look down at the valley, where he and his old team were reloading the cannon. “G’bye guys.”

  “Be careful, Hansum,” Shamira said, and they winked out of sight.

  Hansum took a lungful of forest air. It smelled and tasted so good, similar to the forest at Haudenosaunee.

  “So, let’s see what we can see,” he said to himself softly, and went back to spying.

  This was when they were testing the cannon as an antipersonnel weapon, filling it with thirty egg-sized river stones. They had set up a target of one hundred sapling poles in a square, and shot the cannon at it from two-hundred and fifty paces. The first shot was done with the loose stones and the results were poor, just as Pan had predicted. The second shot was the “Boom” they had just heard. Stones had been shot out of the cannon in a canvas sack, but the material disintegrated and the results were little better. Hansum watched his younger self checking the soldering of a tin cylinder containing the same number of stones. He found it curious to see himself dressed as a noble, walking around quiet and confident, while others stood back and showed him deference. He saw himself nod to the lieutenant in charge of the cannon, smile at the younger Lincoln, and then walk back to Lieutenant Raguso. He was leaning over and saying something to Raguso. What was it? Oh yes. “Never be afraid to fail when testing something.”

  “Never be afraid,” Hansum repeated to himself.

  He heard the soldier-Lincoln shouting. “Thirty stones in tin canister,” and then go through the regular routine. The cannon shot and a second later the target exploded as the canister burst out its ammunition in all directions, snapping many of the branches and . . .

  “Aha. I’ve caught you,” came a voice behind Hansum. Hansum spun around, one hand instantly grabbing for and withdrawing his sword from its scabbard, the other going to the node to take him out of phase. But there, standing before him, was Elder Parmatheon Olama, disheveled and mud-splattered, his clothing badly torn. Beside him was an equally untidy man in the uniform of a commissionaire from a government office. The man’s eyes and mouth went round with wonder when he caught sight of the armed soldiers and cannon below.

  “Elder Parmatheon,” Hansum said in a loud whisper. “What are you . . .”

  “I’ve found you,” Parmatheon said loudly. “Now you must come back with us.”

  “Elder, get down! Be quiet!” Hansum whispered, reaching forward and trying to pull the bureaucrat by the sleeve. “They’ll hear you.”

  Parmatheon pulled his arm back. “Don’t tell me what to do, you rapscallion. We’ve spent three days traipsing all over Italy trying to find you. I started out with ten men and now look. Only one left. The others were either hurt or scared and pressed their escape buttons.”

  “If you’re not quiet, you’ll get us . . .”

  “Guard, seize him,” Parmatheon said to the man with him. This fellow was most likely used to standing in the hallways of public buildings, giving out directions and trying not to be caught napping. He was hardly the muscle needed to arrest anybody, let alone a well-trained fighter like Hansum was now.

  The man came over and hesitantly put his hand on Hansum’s muscular shoulder.

  “You’re kidding, right?” Hansum asked, lifting the man’s hand with the flat of his sword.

  “You must submit to me,” Parmatheon said sternly.

  “I said get down, both of you!” Hansum ordered, pulling the commissionaire down by the sleeve.

  Suddenly there was a cry from the valley. “Captain, someone in the bushes,” a soldier shouted. Hansum spun around and looked.

  “Now you’ve done it,” Hansum said, “Here comes Lieutenant Raguso and his men.”

  “Submit! You must submit.” Parmatheon repeated.

  “Are you insane? Raguso can’t come after us. He’s got to leave with his men so Feltrino will attack and . . .” It was almost too late. “We better go out of phase. Quickly. They’re almost . . .”

  “I’m not going out of phase. You push that return button back to our time or there will be trouble. I have the authority . . .”

  “Your authority won’t do you any good against a sword or a pike,” Hansum warned. Just then, a soldier on horseback, one who had circled around them unseen, came crashing out from the trees. “Press your . . .” Hansum and the commissionaire pressed their out of phase nodes and disappeared. But Parmatheon wasn’t fast enough and the horse ran right into him, knocking him off his feet and throwing him against a tree. He dropped like a rag doll. Hansum and the commissionaire watched as Lieutenant Raguso and his men fell upon the unconscious Council head.

  “More footprints, brother,” one of the soldiers called to Lieutenant Raguso.

  “Search the woods,” Raguso shouted. “They can’t be far. Is this one alive? No, fools, don’t kill him. Stand him up. Tie his hands.”

  If Parmatheon appeared disheveled before, now he looked absolutely gruesome. His face was bruised and swollen. Blood was coming from his nose and mouth. And his eyes? As officious and mean as they were before, now they were the exact opposite, filled with stark terror. His hands were being tied in front of him with a length of rope and the soldier holding it got back on his horse. “To the captain!” Raguso shouted, and three of the horses began their way back down the hill, Parmatheon being pulled along on foot.

  “Help me,” Hansum heard him mumble in Earth Common through bloodied and enlarged lips. “Help me.”

  As Parmatheon stu
mbled down the hill, Hansum pointed the tip of his sword at the base of the gape-mouthed commissionaire’s neck.

  “You’d better push that escape node. I’ll try to rescue Elder Parmatheon, although I can’t think why.”

  “But our nodes aren’t that accurate,” the commissionaire whined. “It took us ten jumps to find you, and a few of us ended us up in the water or high in trees.”

  “Practice makes perfect,” Hansum said, putting his hand up to the man’s neck to do it for him. The man took the hint and pressed the button himself. With one last desperate look, he disappeared.

  Parmatheon was now at the bottom of the hill and being slapped hard by the captain. The 24th-century functionary fell to his knees and Hansum heard him cry out in Earth Common. He watched the younger Hansum and Lincoln look startled when they heard him talking in their native tongue and then quickly come to intervene.

  ‘Now what should I do?’ the older Hansum thought. ‘This was supposed to be a recon mission and things have changed already.’ Bile rose into his mouth, but his training kicked in and he swallowed it down. “Get to it,” he said out loud, and began jogging, out of phase, down the hill. As he did he turned toward where he knew Feltrino and his men had been hiding. Would they still attack? Were they fleeing? ‘What can go wrong next?’

  By the time Hansum got to the bottom of the hill, Parmatheon was surrounded by the entire cannon crew. Lieutenant Raguso was looking down at the scene from his horse and the captain was leaning menacingly over the terrified man, screaming in Italian.

  “Where are you from? The Este? Florence? Tell me or I’ll flay you!” he demanded while holding a knife to the terrified man’s neck. Parmatheon screamed shrilly, and the surrounding men wrinkled their noses. Their prisoner had soiled himself.

  The younger Hansum, with Lincoln by his side, stepped forward and put a hand on the captain’s arm.

  “Allow me, Captain,” Hansum said in Italian, and he knelt down, putting his hand to his language node and touching it discreetly. “Where are you from?” he asked in Earth Common.

  “Why, you’re . . . I just saw you up there . . .”

  The younger Lincoln, in his kettle helmet and chainmail, knelt down too. “Look how he’s dressed. He’s from our time,” he said in Earth Common. “Maybe they’ve come to rescue us.”