The Loved and the Lost (38 page)

“Well, looked what the cat dragged in,” were the first words Hansum heard as he was awakened. “As I live and breathe, Elder Shamira,” the voice said, “I believe this is Elder Hansum lying before us. Don't he look shiny and new?”

“Jerk,” Hansum heard his scratchy voice say. As his eyes began to focus, Lincoln came into view.

“That's Elder Jerk to you,” Lincoln responded. “What do you say, girls? Does he look a day over 70 now?”

Hansum turned his head and there were Shamira and Medeea. Medeea had allowed herself to age somewhat, only looking somewhere in the mid-forties, younger than the others. Shamira's green eyes were the same, except for some small crow's feet around them. And as an artist and lover of color, she had her hair follicles rejuvenated to keep her hair its original shade of light auburn, except for a few streaks. But Lincoln proudly wore his hair grey, letting it flow over his ears and collar, with severe bangs cutting across his brow. Medeea teased that he looked like a monk.

Hansum took a deep breath and sat up, swinging his feet over the levitation bed's energy field. He felt a familiar tingling on his chest and looked down to see that Sideways, now his permanent A.I. cloak, had transported around him.

“Hello boss,” Sideways said. “Nice to have you back.”

“And may I say, objectively,” came a voice from Lincoln's cloak, “you do indeed look much younger than your years. Younger than the seventy years Elder Lincoln suggests in his usual jesting fashion.”

Being a Time Travel Elder, Lincoln now had his own A.I. cloak. It was Zat, the A.I. who had been the tissue cloning minder so long ago. He, like some humans, had been a slow starter. But as he matured, he grew into a skilled and sought-after time traveling partner. Lincoln was lucky to have him.

“Thanks Zat. Oh, even my voice sounds younger to me,” Hansum said. “Let me look in the mirror.” He indeed did look younger than seventy. Probably closer to sixty, as well as he could remember what that was like.

“Okay, I'll admit it. Ya don't look bad for a hundred and four.” Lincoln chimed in. He was an even one hundred and Shamira one hundred and two.

Hansum put a hand to his temple. He was getting a message on his implant. “Inter-temporal,” he said, meaning that this could only be from a very few callers. “Yes? Oh, hello Talos.”

“Elder Hansum,”
Talos's voice said.
“It's about Arimus.”

“Is there a problem?”

“He's dying,”
Talos explained simply.
“He has already disengaged his support and is asking for you. Can you come right away? He has less than two hours.”

“I'll be right there,” Hansum said.

“The loved and . . .”

Arimus whispered so low Hansum couldn't make out the words. The dying man smiled and leaned back into his pillow, summoning Hansum closer. Hansum came forward, feeling the stubble around his friend's lips pressing on his ear. The old man tried again.

“The loved and the lost
the brave pursue,
Compelled without fear or cost.”

Hansum waited for more, but it didn't come. He pulled back to gain his mentor's eye.

“The loved and the lost,” Hansum repeated, “the brave pursue, compelled without fear or cost. Is there more?” Arimus smiled faintly, closing his eyes momentarily and moving his head sideways once, to say no. “Okay then. Well, there are a few others who want to see you.” Arimus raised his eyebrows, smiling agreement. Hansum motioned for them to enter.

Old man Lincoln popped his head into the doorway, making a goofy face.

“There's the guy who made my life miserable!” he joked.

Arimus laughed, but ended up coughing.

“Age really hasn't matured him,” a woman's voice said and, as Shamira and Medeea entered the roo.m, Arimus's eyes went wide with delight. They came over and both kissed him on opposite cheeks. Arimus looked up at them, eyes twinkling.

“I've secretly watched you paint over the years,”
he whispered to Shamira.
“And here's the most beautiful and intelligent delver of any era in time.
Thank you all for coming.”

“We're all glad we can be here for you,” Hansum said.

“I'm so glad to see friends from the most trying of my adventures tall.”
Arimus whispered,
“For I have something to confess to you all.”

Just then, all three of the A.I.s made faces of astonishment.

“IT'S STARTED AGAIN!” they cried in unison.

Hansum and Lincoln's hands flew to their temples. The urgent message flashed into their minds too.

“TRAVEL TO THE 14th-CENTURY! IT'S RESUMED!” they shouted.

The looks of shock, surprise and exuberance beamed on every face. But just as quickly, Hansum and Lincoln's faces turned to those of men who now had a job to do. No matter they were on standby for eighty-six years, their training kicked in. Hansum looked over at Arimus.

“My friend, finally. Finally we can go back and try again. But what did you want to tell us?”

Arimus looked excited, and then serious.

“I wanted to confess . . .
in the history of my time it was deeded . . .
Hansum, you never succeeded.”

This was shocking news.

“We never succeed?” Hansum said, his eyes troubled. Arimus struggled to explain.

“No, you, you never even got to go back and try.
But now in the time line there's a mutation.
A deviation where frustration can change to elation.
Time has opened up a chance, through it my friends, go, go dance.”

“Well, how do you like those bananas?” Lincoln said, half joking, half in awe. “He knew we didn't succeed and yet this guy persisted throughout his whole life.”

“Well, what's life mean,
without an impossible dream?”

Hansum felt a touch on his arm. It was Arimus's hand, moved with obviously much effort. The old man's eyes were dancing with hope, as if to say he was happy to have lived long enough to see this possibility. But he was tired, and when he spoke again, it was more like he mouthed the words.

“. . . compelled without fear or cost.”

He moved his head toward Sideways.

“Take them!
Now!”

The trio of humans and three A.I.s fell through the tunnel of time.

“Thank you for coming, Shamira,”
Hansum said silently through a mind-delve.

“How could I say no?”
she replied.
“I've had eighty-six years to get over what happened. But what's the plan?”

“Plan seventeen?”
Hansum thought, looking over at Lincoln.

Lincoln nodded.
“I agree this is the place to start. If it's not the nexus point, it would give us the other opportunities right after.”

“Medeea, would you share the whole plan and its contingencies with Shamira?”
Hansum thought.

“With pleasure.”

Shamira closed her eyes as the plan dumped into her memory. She shuddered as it integrated.
“Wow. You've got it down to the second,”
she said, opening her eyes.

“It has to be,”
Hansum replied.

“And we've had the time to work on it,”
Lincoln chuckled.

“Fifteen seconds to the 14th-century, location one,”
Zat said.

A storm was brewing, causing the shutters of Master della Cappa's shop to rattle noisily in the increasing wind. The storm had been one of the reasons Pan didn't perceive Ugilino peering through a crack in the shutters. The other was that Pan's brass lamp had been cracked, causing perception problems.

The out-of-phase humans and A.I.s were standing in the alley by the shuttered window.

“Time check,” the older Hansum said to Sideways.

“Right on target, elder,” Sideways announced. “Ugilino will be coming to tell Hansum that Guilietta is awake and asking for him. We have just under three minutes before he peers through the crack in the shutter and sees Pan.”

“Okay, let's get into position. Shamira, you're with me. Lincoln . . .”

“I'll be right here by the shutter with Zat,” Lincoln confirmed.

Hansum put out a hand to Shamira and led her right through the heavy wooden shop wall. As they emerged inside, they saw their younger selves. This was the original event when the younger Shamira was leaning over a piece of paper, writing the list of herbs Pan was dictating. Lincoln was carefully soldering a reinforcement around Pan's shell and Hansum was trying to help him.

“Ugilino just turned into the alley. He's coming,”
came Lincoln's voice.

“Get ready, Sideways,” Hansum warned.

“All set,” the A.I. cloak answered, closing his eyes and crunching up his face.

“Ugilino is about to lean against the building to relieve himself,”
Lincoln advised.

Pan was finishing dictating. “So, those are the ingredients I hope you'll find at Signora Baroni's house. If she's short anything, bring any and all dried bread mold, spider webs . . .”

“Now,” the older Hansum ordered.

“Ugilino's outside!”
Sideways broadcast in A.I. language, stripping off the code showing where the communications came from.

Pan's gruff satyr face froze, his eyes going wide. “Ugilino's outside,” he repeated, and disappeared.

The younger Hansum, Shamira and Lincoln looked up.

“Ugilino's outside,”
Pan now said sub-sonically in each teen's ear.

The younger Lincoln ran and threw open the shop door.

“Hey, whaddaya doin' out there?” he yelled. Meanwhile, the young Shamira was stuffing both the notes she wrote and Pan's lamp into her apron pocket. A sheepish Ugilino walked into the shop, still tying up his braise.

“Why are you sneaking around?” the younger Hansum asked angrily.

“I was taking a piss,” Ugilino answered, and then asked incredulously. “Romero, how did you know I was . . .”

“Never mind. What do you want?”

“Guilietta's awake. She's asking for . . .”

The younger Hansum was up and out the door, calling to the others, “Take the carriage to Signora Baroni's and get those herbs. Now!”

Lincoln and Shamira got up to leave.

“Maruccio, how did you know I was out there?” Ugilino asked again.

“Lock up the shop, meat head,” Lincoln said as he and Shamira walked quickly by him. “And keep out of trouble!”

The older Shamira and Hansum joined Elder Lincoln outside. They watched their younger selves hustle up the alley through what was the start of a rainy night. They no doubt all had memories of making their way to the palace through it. But now it had changed.

“That was easy,” Shamira mused. “I was expecting excitement but, just like that, crisis averted.”

“No, you don't understand, Sham,” Hansum said. “It was easy to change because we knew what was going to happen. We've been studying it for years.”

“Exactly,” she smiled.

“You still don't get it,” Lincoln added. “Everything . . . everything is changed. Now we don't have a clue what's going to happen next.”

Shamira's eyes went big as it sank in.

“Like things the other times,” she said. “When everything went . . . bad.”

“So now our job is to keep ahead of everything,” Hansum pronounced. In a flash they site transported to the front of the house. The younger Hansum was just running inside and slamming the door, while the other Lincoln and Shamira were getting in the hired carriage, Lincoln shouting directions to Signora Baroni's to the driver.

“Let's go in the house,” Elder Lincoln said.

As they passed through the door, they saw Bembo sitting on the steps, his head down, waiting to help in any way he could. The older Hansum frowned as he saw Father Lurenzano sitting with Agistino, still plying him with wine.

“Bastardo,” he growled, and they all site transported into Guilietta's room. She had fallen back asleep and young Hansum was kneeling by the bed, holding both her hands in his, the Signora and Nuca looking down at them.