The Zygan Emprise: Renegade Paladins and Abyssal Redemption (38 page)

“That could take forever. And Yeshua, too,
could be anywhere. Maybe we should time loop while we search?” Time
loops allowed time travelers to spend hours or days in the target
century and return to the present right after leaving. We could
hunt as long as we needed without delaying our rescue mission.

Spud favored me with two raised eyebrows. “Ev
was kind enough not to play, as you Americans say, the stool pigeon
about your unauthorized trips to draft me and Yeshua for your
quest. I hardly think that you should expend your capital for time
loop authorizations until we have a clearer picture of where and
when—and if--we can find a Somalderis. Agreed?”

I shrugged, but made it look like a nod. And
kept my fingers crossed.

* * *

Earth Core Station—present day

The library suite at Earth Core was deserted
when Spud and I entered. Spud took a seat before the bank of holo
screens and instructed them to respond in search mode.

“As I recall from my previous research,
sheepskins were very common in the Southern Black Sea and were used
to capture flecks of gold.” Spud called up images of fishermen in
the region. “The fleeces were stretched over wood frames and
submerged in the water downstream, collecting the precious
metal.”

Spud panned towards a bank of trees from
which several sheepskins were hanging. “Hung out to dry, and then
the gold would be combed out. Voila.” He pointed to a grizzled
bronze-skinned treasure hunter who was shaking one of the fleeces
to trap the shiny flakes.

“Looks promising. So I should ask Ev if we
can go back to ancient Georgia?”

“Not yet. There is nothing here to suggest
that these sheepskins would provide us with anything more than a
warm coat—or the ability to at least barter for one.” Spud played
his nimble fingers on the screen and the scene dissolved to display
some Acropolis-style buildings.

“Athens? Rome?”

Spud shook his head. “Alexandria. See the
Pharos, the lighthouse, in the distance? I shall try to track the
Argonautica
writings from Apollonius of Rhodes in the Great
Library. It may lead us to the source of the original story.”

Great. That could take hours. I, and John,
didn’t have time to wait. As Spud zoomed the holo view in through
the columns of a stately marble building, I started hopping on one
foot and then the other. Spud finally noticed. “If you are in need
of a water closet, I can continue the research by myself.”

I patted him on the shoulder and scurried out
of the suite. Actually, the bathroom wasn’t a bad place to prep for
my time loop. Spud may be clever, but I couldn’t believe that the
equally clever Theodore Benedict wouldn’t have tried to find
another Fleece in Colchis or wherever to fuel his inter-dimensional
trip, thereby avoiding all those years he struggled,
unsuccessfully, to cross over to Paradise with fission and fusion
support. If Benedict, with all his resources, hadn’t found a
sheepskin Somalderis, how could we? No, unfortunately, Spud had
probably been more on target than he knew when he’d implied there
was only one Golden Fleece, and only one man who now had it. Yeshua
Bar Maryam.

Secreted in the rest room, I pulled out my
Ergal. After we’d escaped from Benedict’s Planet Ship and returned
to Zygint Central last month, Spud had been examining holo images
of an older Yeshua preaching to a group of his countrymen on a
desert hill. Clearly, Yeshua had survived to adulthood, perhaps
under the old Keeper’s watchful eye. Had the Fleece we’d seen on
his adolescent shoulders in Phonecia survived the years as
well?

I dug into the cache where I’d shelved a
mirror file I’d created of Spud’s data. My Ergal screen quickly
pulled up and displayed the scene that Spud had been reviewing.
Yes! Adult Yeshua was there—in Judea--decked in a flowing white
robe, which flapped in the howling desert wind. Underneath the
robe, I could catch glimpses of the Somalderis, which he’d wrapped
around his legs from his waist to his thighs. Excellent. My Ergal
would anamorph my tank top and jeans into a modest vestment and I
would be on my way to Judea to ask Yeshua for, as my friend Sarion
of Megara might say, a sheepish loan.

I Ergaled myself some coins of the era and
secreted them inside my robes. The Tetradrachms, Tyrian shekels,
might come in handy if I needed to bargain for the use of the
Fleece.

Checking for contact metrics, I called up the
Ergal screens showing Yeshua and his location in the past. The
images had forwarded to a banquet, where I could see Yeshua
breaking bread with a lively group of diners. Better not to
interrupt his meal, so I advanced the action by an Earth hour and
clicked the Ergal so I could travel back in time.

* * *

Judea—two thousand years ago

I almost scraped my scalp on the gnarly
branches as I M-fanned under a craggy olive tree in the Garden of
Gathsmani in ancient Judea. In the distance, Yeshua was exiting a
cenacle, followed by several robe-clad bearded men. I squinted to
see through the loop of my Ergal; yes, good, he was still wearing
the Somalderis.

Yeshua was twenty years older than the last
time I’d seen him this close. Now in his early thirties, he already
had some streaks of gray along his temples and salting his beard.
Wasn’t likely he’d remember me either. I’d taken a chance and
traveled as a woman this time, instead of the young Danel. Figured
I’d be less threatening as a female if I approached him in the
crowd begging for ovine alms. I pulled my scarf back over my head
and ventured into the field.

Yeshua’s steps were slow and deliberate as he
ambled down the dirt path in front of the younger men. His face was
in shadows, but his sagging posture seemed so different from the
sturdiness he’d demonstrated in Phoenicia in his youth. Frankly, he
looked like he was literally carrying the weight of the world on
his shoulders. I surveyed the garden for a glimpse of the Keeper,
but the elderly caregiver was nowhere in sight.

A few yards from me, Yeshua paused and knelt
on the ground, hiding his head in his hands, and muttering and
moaning unintelligibly. I could see the beads of sweat dripping
through his fingers from his brow Uh, oh. Maybe not the best time
to hit him up with my own desperation.

The image of John, crying to me from the
elusive other brane at my family’s dinner table, flashed before my
eyes once again. I took a step closer to Yeshua. Ready or not, I
had to get the Somalderis. For John.

Yeshua’s eyes were bloodshot, and brimming
with unshed tears as he looked up at my flowing white vestments,
backlit brightly by a moonbeam through the olive branches above my
hood. He blinked a few times, his expression puzzled, and then,
after glancing back to confirm that his celebrant companions had
fallen asleep on the ground off in the distance, asked me hoarsely
if I was a messenger from his father.

Did he mean the Keeper? In any case, it
wouldn’t hurt to say yes. Yeshua might be more likely to let me
borrow the Somalderis for a day or two if he saw me as a friend of
a friend. I’d return to the modern day a few minutes after my
departure, grab Spud, and we’d use another time loop to rescue
John. With a little luck, I could be back in Jerusalem before
morning.

I nodded, stumbling through the truth in
Aramaic, “I return to you from a world beyond this one.”

“I await his wisdom and his behest. Though I
shall obey his commandments, I have prayed that my father might
relieve me of my burden.”

From what I could make out in
Ergal-translated Aramaic, Yeshua likely had me confused with
someone else—an ancient Aggelaphor messenger perhaps. The last
remark threw me for a loop, but also gave me my opening. Catascope
training taught us to be quick on our feet when an opportunity
arises. Yeshua’s plea had given me an idea.

I laid a comforting hand on Yeshua’s bony
shoulder. “The
Χρυσόμαλλον Δέρας
is a
burden, is it not?” I whispered. “Let me carry it forthwith and
present it to your father and I shall return a-morn’ with his
reply.”

Yeshua hesitated for what seemed like an
eternity before nodding and unwinding the treasured fleece from his
waist. He handed me the Somalderis with a worried expression.

Off in the distance, an advancing crowd
caught my eye. Many were grey-haired, wearing robes and sandals and
sporting bushy beards. Leading the group was a dark-haired stocky
man who pointed towards us with a cry of “The Teacher”. The noise
awakened Yeshua’s companions who got up and headed over in our
direction, shouting something that sounded like “parasols”. Time
for me to “exit, stage left”. Fast.

Wrapping the Somalderis around my own waist
and reaching into my pocket with my free hand for my Ergal, I set
off into the heart of the grove of olive trees. I hid behind the
largest I could find, peeking out to make sure I hadn’t been
followed. As I activated my Ergal to X-fan, I glimpsed the stocky
bearded man reach Yeshua and give him a respectful kiss.

* * *

Earth Core Station—present day

“Ev, you are an angel,” I said as I kissed
him on his chubby cheek. “I’ll drag Spud out of the library and
we’ll be on our way.” After Ergaling back into my comfy costume of
sweater and jeans, I’d carried the Somalderis into Earth Core
Control like a championship trophy.

“So this is a Somalderis,” Ev said with a
sprinkle of awe, as he ran his hands up and down the Golden Fleece.
“Wow.”

Spud burst out of the library suite brimming
with enthusiasm. “I have uncovered an obscure reference in the
Alexandria records that guides us to—“ His face paled as he saw Ev
caressing the Somalderis. “Where--?”

“Those who can, do. Those who can’t,
research. Come on, John’s waiting for us. We’ve got to hurry. Ev’s
authorized us to time loop through that portal Wart commed us about
near Area 51. Let’s go.

Spud’s frown lasted until we’d M-fanned in
Nevada.

Chapter 4

If I Only Had A Brane

Area 51, Nevada—present day

The moon hadn’t yet risen above the Tonapah
Hills to spotlight our arrival, but we’d invisible-ized just in
case a curious US Army patrol decided to drive through Groom Lake
with too many questions. Seeing as we were invisible anyway, I wish
we’d gotten here before sunset. The desert in the night was
frigid.

“Now what do we do?” I ventured to Spud.

“Hold my hand,” Spud ordered as he finished
adjusting the settings on his Ergal to align with Wart’s
recommendations. “Wrap the fleece around us both like a
greatcoat.”

I shivered as I took his arm. “Glad this
thing is warm.”

“Hold on tightly. We must stay together. On
your mark, get set, g—“

Blinding light flashed into my eyes, and I
felt the weight of a thousand suns upon my chest. My body exploded
into a million pieces, a big bang that scattered my essence beyond
my severed arm’s reach. I was nowhere, and yet I was everywhere, my
soul in each molecule that flew through the blackness of the light.
Before I could scream, the scene rewound and my molecules rushed to
reform my corpus with a giant roar.

I lay supine for several minutes, until my
panting eased. The grass under my fingers felt so much softer than
the desert dust. “Damn.” I sat up, still gasping for breath,
fortunately in a decently oxygenated environment. “What a
ride.”

“Don’t move,” Spud cried, shooting out a hand
to pull me back down on the ground. “Just lie perfectly still. Do
not even breathe.”

A giant shadow swept over us, as the winged
reptile soared across the pink sky, its beak seesawing open to
reveal enormous teeth.

“We are fortunate to be little desired by
predators on Earth. Our story might be prematurely terminated
here.”

“So where’s here?” I whispered after the
gynormous pterodactyl had glided towards the red horizon. All I
could see around us was an expanse of white cotton balls on which
we lay. “Brane 5? Level Three? Hell? ”

Spud shrugged as he hopped to his feet. “It
remains to be seen. The same should not be said for us, however.
The Somalderis?”

Intact, but a bit smaller than before. I
reached for the Fleece and tied it once again around my hips. Then
instinct kicked in and I felt for my Ergal. It was gone!

“Our Ergals did not seem to survive the
transition,” Spud intoned. “I am afraid we are mortal visitors in
heaven.”

I didn’t like that he stressed the word
“mortal”. And my definition of heaven didn’t include predators.
Spud was right. We were sitting ducks in this field of fluff.
“Wonder why Wart sent us here. We’re miles from nowhere. Glad I
wore my sneakers, uh, trainers.”

Spud wasn’t listening. Shielding his eyes
from the two red dwarf suns still lighting the sky, he was scanning
the horizon. “It will be a long trek. I would not wish to give
those avian demons another chance to ingest us. I am a bit less
credulous than you about Wart’s motives.”

“Then how about we try ka’vyr?” I suggested.
The Ifestian technique had allowed us to instantly transport
ourselves from one spot to another on Theodore Benedict’s
planet-ship. Maybe the technique could help us find a productive
destination in this world, too.

“Now that, Rush, is an excellent idea.” Spud
reached out his hands and took mine. “Together.”

Eyes closed, breathing deeply, we began the
mental gymnastics we’d learned from the Ifestian shaman T’Fal that
would ease us into the transcendental state. I felt the ground
begin to shift under my feet, accelerating so quickly that Spud and
I were knocked down onto the cottony “grass”. The movement
continued so that we were soon lying flat on a surface now angled
at 70 degrees. Slipping, we started to slide bottomward through the
cotton balls, cascading down, down, down to…