The Loved and the Lost Read online

  “But,” Charlene started.

  Hansum whirled around. “Arimus has already made the arrangements,” he said. “I won’t change them. Now let me sleep and go away!” And with that, he turned toward the wall.

  Hansum lay there, listening. He heard Charlene’s mouse-like snuffling for a few seconds, followed by the sound of the bedroom door opening and closing. He was alone in the dark again, but sleep didn’t come quickly because Charlene was right. Something deep down was bothering him. And the problem was he didn’t know what it was either. But he couldn’t risk admitting that to anyone.

  At first he thought it was just the images of the last mission. They kept jumping into his mind’s eye; every horrifying part of the fight with Feltrino, the horse and the river, Guilietta lying dead on the bank. But there was something else, some phantom was haunting him, and he had to hunt it down and kill it himself.

  Hansum received little comfort knowing that correcting the situation had, once again, been relatively easy. Arimus simply sent Sideways back to tell the earlier version of the A.I. cloak not transport Hansum to intercept his younger self. It worked. The timeline reset and played out as before. Guilietta was alive again and so was Feltrino.

  Correcting the mistakes easily continued to surprise everyone involved, given that time seemed to be blocking them in so many other ways. But it piqued the curiosity of the 24th-century scientists advising the Council. They all found it fascinating and theories abounded. They hypothesized that Guilietta could be an example of some not-yet-understood force that made it impossible for some people to travel through a vortex, except at specific times. Perhaps it was a phenomenon the universe employed to protect key parts of the timeline, and they even developed equations to prove it. Maybe Guilietta was one of these people and they would have to devise a way to find when she could come through what they were calling “nexus points.” As a result, the scientists were enthusiastically asking that more attempts be made as soon as possible to test this theory. The public also wanted more of the Romero and Guilietta story.

  The only objection to mounting another mission was coming from a faction of the History Camp Time Travel Council. Elder Parmatheon Olama had gained more support from other members, so had become a power to reckon with. Arimus told Hansum not to worry. Hansum presumed it was because the 31st-century Elder Cassian Olama could veto his multi-generational grandson’s vote. But Hansum still worried. He worried because he lived every day and night with the feeling that a demon was devouring him from the inside.

  Finally, sleep came an hour before he had to get up.

  When Lincoln found out what the new type of transport could do, he enthusiastically asked it to transmute into the shape of a Buck Rogers-style space ship. The A.I. ship captain laughed.

  “Stand back, young people,” he said, and immediately transmuted himself from a regular sized A.I. orb, wearing an old-fashioned leather aviator’s helmet and goggles, to the sleek early 20th-century science-fiction version of a rocket ship, complete with a pointy front and long tailfins.

  “Oh, I get it,” Lincoln laughed. “You’re not just the pilot, you’re the ship.”

  As Lincoln, Medeea, Hansum, Shamira and Kingsley boarded the vessel, they saw five passenger seats.

  “There’s a chair for Medeea too,” Kingsley observed.

  “Tell Captain Orville that was very thoughtful,” Medeea said to Lincoln. “Very sweet.”

  “Medeea says you’re sweet, Captain,” Lincoln joked. “But I was hoping she’d sit on my lap.”

  “Thoughtfulness is all part of Haudenosaunee hospitality,” the now disembodied voice of the captain said. “Have a seat and here we go,” and the ship took off.

  “Man, this is fast,” Lincoln said as he looked out the window. “We’re already above the clouds and, Hell’s bells, we’re over the ocean already.”

  “I was going to sketch the Cliffs of Dover but . . .” Shamira began, pressing her nose to the porthole.

  “Already passed ‘em,” Lincoln finished.

  “There’s no sense of acceleration,” Kingsley added. “Those Haudenosaunee engineers certainly come up with great things.”

  “My makers are the best,” Captain Orville’s voice boasted.

  Hansum gave a loud yawn and stretched. “Let me know when they’ve perfected site to site transport,” he said lazily. “Then you can say they’re fast.”

  “Sorry I don’t meet your expectations, sir,” the ship said without a hint of disdain. “Please enjoy the ride. I must attend to my duties.”

  Hansum stretched again and scratched at his chest.

  “Wow, I think Hansum is actually getting ruder,” Lincoln thought to Medeea.

  “I agree,” Medeea answered. Shamira and Kingsley looked like they were worried about their friend too.

  “Man oh man, I wish I had a better sleep last night,” Hansum yawned.

  “What’s the problem, bro?” Lincoln asked.

  “Charlene woke me up and went on a tirade about what we’re doing.”

  “I’m sure she’s just concerned,” Kingsley said.

  “Concern doesn’t begin to describe it. She even wished she could mind-delve me, to really see what I was thinking,” Hansum looked out the window as they flew over Greenland. They were on their way to North America and what was still known as the Finger Lakes. “Man, taking this long to get from one place to the other is getting on my nerves.”

  Medeea raised an eyebrow to Lincoln.

  “Maybe mind-delving Hansum would be a good idea,” she thought.

  “Charlene just loves you,” Shamira suggested. “My Perminia was at me every day. ‘Settle down,’ she said. ‘Do your art. Have a baby.’ ”

  “You didn’t tell me that part,” Kingsley said.

  “Oops.” Shamira blushed and everyone laughed.

  “You guys are lucky,” Kingsley continued unabashed. “When I couldn’t travel home during the blackout, I would have given anything to have my family badgering me.”

  When the blackout ended, people from the 24th to the 28th-century could time travel again. However, the 31st-century Arimus still couldn’t, and that meant history was still unfolding differently. Arimus seemed to be taking it well now, confident things would work out.

  “The next time you miss being badgered, you can have Charlene,” Hansum said. “Hey, you can have my whole family.”

  Lincoln and Medeea looked at each other again.

  “Hansum really is getting coarse,” she thought.

  “Yeah. He’d never say anything as thoughtless as that before. I mean, I would, but I was just a kid.”

  “Transport,” Hansum called out impatiently. “How much longer before we get to Haudenosaunee? Have you slowed down?”

  “Four minutes, sir,” the ship’s voice answered. “We’re right on time . . . sir, and my name is Captain Orville.”

  “What I wouldn’t give for my own A.I. cloak so I could site transport,” Hansum said, snapping his fingers to indicate how long that would take him to get anywhere on the planet. “So, you guys ready to do this all over again?”

  “Do what?” Lincoln asked. “The application to the Council or the trip back?”

  “Both, for Gia sakes.”

  “We’re here for ya to the end, pal,” Lincoln said. “Although you are getting to be a royal pain in the rear,” he thought to Med.

  “At least we don’t have to do the application in that big amphitheater,” Shamira said. “I hated being in front of all those people.”

  “Just because we’ll be in an elder’s longhouse with a few dozen people and A.I.s,” Hansum countered, “doesn’t mean there won’t be millions of people watching from their homes.”

  “I . . . hadn’t thought of that,” Shamira said, going pale.

  Lincoln and Medeea were once again surprised at Hansum’s tactlessness. Medeea sat next to Shamira and linked arms, while Lincoln said something encouraging.

  “Won’t it be great, Sham,” he said chee
rfully, “if we can do what Hansum’s going to propose for the next rescue? Bring Guilietta and her parents back with us? Can you imagine the Master and Signora in the 24th-century? What a hoot.”

  “That would be great,” Shamira agreed. “The Signora could become healthy in her mind.”

  “First things first,” Hansum said firmly. “Arimus was telling me yesterday the Council is equally divided on whether we should have another go at things, even though the scientists and public want it: the scientists, so they can study what they’re calling these “nexus points” and the public, because they want more of our Romero and Guilietta story. We’ll have to play all that up. But it’s that Parmatheon Olama who’s the real problem. He’s such a friggin’ bureaucrat.”

  “Landing at Haudenosaunee in one minute,” the voice of the ship chimed.

  “Finally,” Hansum sighed, looking out the window, but he needn’t have.

  “Realigning atomic particles for a bottom view,” Captain Orville announced. The floor of the ship suddenly became transparent.

  “Oh, we’re up high,” Shamira said.

  Haudenosaunee was the main settlement of what was originally called the Iroquois Confederacy or the League of Six Nations. While the original settlement had disappeared under a city called Syracuse, that was gone now too. As the Earth’s human population shrank to one-thirtieth of what it was at its peak, nature began to reclaim everything. But it wasn’t a wilderness. It was now much the same as it had been a thousand years earlier, when Europeans first came to North America en mass.

  Still high in the sky, everyone could see Haudenosaunee, a fifty hectare settlement of twenty-five hundred people nestled on the shore of Lake Onondaga. At that height, they could just see Lake Ontario to the north and, to the south-west, a few of what were known as the Finger Lakes. As the transport descended, it became clear the settlement was ringed by hundreds of hectares of planted fields. Beyond that, and running west, there was a neat line showing the border of a heavy forest stretching to the horizon.

  “As I’m sure you already know,” the voice of the A.I. captain narrated, “the Haudenosaunee practiced one of the first and longest-lasting democracies on Earth. They were, and are again, known as The People of the Longhouse.”

  “I have Haudenosaunee blood,” Kingsley said.

  “The Haudenosaunee nation is about a third the size of what it was when Europeans came,” Captain Orville continued. “It is comprised of what were known as upper New York State and Ohio, when they were part of the short-lived United States Empire. It has recently gained population and land from north of Lake Ontario and along the St. Lawrence River, from the now defunct country of Canada.

  “When you are among the people here,” the voice of the ship continued, “remember, you are not at a History Camp. The people here have agreed to live the way people lived before European contact, especially in food, clothing and housing, although technologically they are among the most advanced on the planet. This transport in fact . . . I,” Captain Orville’s voice went on, “am an innovation designed and birthed in one of the longhouses right below us.”

  Now, less than a thousand feet below them, the layout of Haudenosaunee became clear. There were about forty-five longhouses in a clearing, surrounded by a low palisade to keep out farm and wild animals. As the transport reached about two hundred feet, it slowed to a halt for a few seconds. The whole transport became transparent now, making it look like the passengers were sitting in mid-air. This gave everyone a chance to get a good look at where they were. With people now discernible below, it gave a human scale to the place and Lincoln was amazed how large the longhouses were. They ranged from eighty to two-hundred feet in length and were some twenty feet wide and high, impressive as they were made of elm and ash poles, covered with large, flattened pieces of tree bark. Ever since he had been in charge of making the cannon fuses from the hollow flight feathers of a goose, Lincoln had been fascinated with anything people made totally from natural products.

  “Yes, they will be very interesting to study,” Medeea thought to him.

  He squeezed her hand and smiled. With absolutely nothing to hide from his A.I. girlfriend, Lincoln was free of guilt and self-doubt. Even his family, including his Nan, had commented on his personal growth to manhood.

  The transport proceeded to land in an open field just outside the front gate of the village. They were next to several other transports, except these were older, solid vehicles, not like Captain Orville. Their rear ramps were down and perhaps another one hundred people and ten A.I.s were around them.

  “Oh look, Shamira,” Medeea said. “There’s a wedding party getting off the transports. See the groom dressed a suit of pure white rabbit pelts? He must be Mohawk.”

  “Oh, how exciting,” Shamira said. “And that must be the bride. She has old-fashioned European clothes on . . . and a veil too.” She leaned against Kingsley, smiling.

  “It’s great when cultures mix,” he said. “Like us.”

  A few feet above ground, the transparent walls and ceiling completely dematerialized and the fresh breeze of Lake Onondaga washed over everyone. As the floor touched down, it too evaporated and everyone was left sitting on their chair in the grass. The seats disappeared as each person stood and Captain Orville rematerialized, aviator helmet and all.

  “Thank you for the interesting flight, Captain,” Lincoln said. “You’re one heck of a ship.”

  “I can transform my mass into a transport that carries up to one hundred passengers. I’m the first of my kind, born right here in Haudenosaunee. And it’s an honor to have such renowned celebrities traveling in me. I bid you all a good rest of your journey. It was nice having you.”

  “It was nice being had,” Lincoln answered, to which the captain roared with laughter as he levitated into the village.

  “I hope I’m not bothering you,” a woman’s voice said. Shamira turned to find the bride and her groom smiling at her.

  “Hello,” Shamira said.

  “Hello, Shamira. My name is Miriama and this is my fiancé, Charlie. We’re getting married today.”

  “Congratulations,” Shamira said. “This is . . .”

  “Yes, Lincoln, Kingsley and Hansum,” Charlie said putting out his hand. Hansum hesitated before shaking hands.

  “And Medeea is here too,” Lincoln added, motioning beside him, “She adds her congratulations to ours.”

  “Listen guys, we should find Arimus,” Hansum interrupted.

  Just then several more people rushed up to the group. A large man, looking like an older version of the groom, was among them.

  “Son, you made it,” he said throwing his arms around Charlie. “Look at him in my old wedding suit, Mother” he said to the woman greeting her future daughter-in-law.

  “Yep, we made it, Pops.”

  “We’re all so glad you and Miriama are here to stay,” the father said. “It’s a dream come true to work on deep space environmental equipment with my own son. Just like I did with my father and he before him.”

  “Guys. Let’s go find Arimus,” Hansum repeated.

  That’s when the father and mother noticed who they were standing by.

  “Oh, excuse me,” the father said deferentially. “I hope I didn’t interrupt . . .”

  “We’ve got to get to a meeting,” Hansum said.

  “Before you go,” Miriama added, “If you have time, Charlie and I would be honored if you would all attend our wedding.” As she said this, Miriama put her hand on Hansum’s arm. Her eyes exuded happiness. “I’ve watched your wedding with Guilietta, I don’t know how many times.”

  Hansum stared back at the bride, showing little of how her comment stung him to his core. After many long seconds you could see Miriama and Charlie become nervous. Then Hansum forced a smile.

  “Thank you both very much,” he said. “However, I have to prepare for something. I wish you both joy,” and he turned and walked away.

  “Hansum . . .” Lincoln called afte
r him.

  “I’ll be over there,” he said pointing to the village’s open palisade gate.

  “You’ll have to excuse him,” Hansum heard Shamira say. “He has a lot on his mind.”

  Chapter 2

  Hansum was standing by the city gate, tapping his communications node off and on for a good five minutes.

  “Why isn’t Arimus answering?” he grumbled. He felt even testier when he saw Lincoln, Shamira and Kingsley among the hundreds of noisy people now gathered to celebrate the wedding. Children were running around, adults were laughing and greeting, and it even looked like a few romances were starting. “C’mon, Arimus. Answer me already,” Hansum complained, tapping again. “Oh, finally. Arimus, why didn’t you answer? We’re here at the . . . what? What? Why? How long? This afternoon or tomorrow? Why the . . . Oh, all right, all right,” Hansum said impatiently, clicking his communications implant off.

  Just then a tall, handsome man of around seventy strolled out of the village, passing Hansum and standing before the assembly. He was dressed in the highly decorative regalia of an Onandoga chief. His outstretched arms revealed a jacket and trousers made of deerskin and covered with intricate beading and lapidary work. His hat was a collection of hundreds of hawk and eagle feathers, all radiating out from a center point. But the man himself was surprisingly light skinned, almost like Shamira.

  “Welcome,” he called out. “I’m here to welcome you to Haudenosaunee. My name is Sam Goldman, the Tadodaho of Haudenosaunee.”

  There was a gasp of surprise from behind Hansum. He turned and saw two men coming out of the village, apparently to see what the excitement was all about.

  “The Tadodaho himself is greeting them? It’s probably because . . . they’re here,” one of the men said, pointing to Shamira, Lincoln and Kingsley. The man caught Hansum’s eye and gave a start, realizing he had been overheard. He looked embarrassed and turned away.

  “Not everyone will love ya,” Hansum said under his breath. “So don’t even try.”

  “We’re all here to celebrate Miriama and Charlie’s wedding and to welcome them to their new home,” Sam Goldman continued. “So, if you will all follow me, we shall proceed to the celebration longhouse. It’s much cooler in there and we have refreshments for everyone.” Elder Goldman, the Tadodaho of the entire Haudenosaunee nation turned, his arms still outstretched, and led everyone into the village. As the crowd passed the gate, Lincoln, Shamira and Kingsley stopped in front of Hansum.