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  “Arimus, his emergency node!” Lincoln shouted, grabbing his friend’s free arm as well as twisting his leg around Hansum’s knee, as he had learned in his self-defense training. He pushed Hansum as hard as he could, bringing the bigger boy, and Arimus, to the ground.

  “Hansum, you must not do this!”

  Arimus shouted as they fell.

  Lincoln now lay with his entire weight on Hansum’s arm and chest, stopping him from reaching the emergency node.

  “If we save her now,” Hansum cried with frustration, “it changes everything.”

  “But she survives, she survives,”

  Arimus pleaded in the boy’s ear.

  “Think of the long game. Control yourself. Learn.”

  “Ya,” Lincoln added, trying to sound calm. “Remember, right now Shamira and I are running to the palace. Your younger self will be hunting Feltrino down with the Podesta’s men soon.” Hansum stopped struggling. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

  “Oh, well done, Lincoln,” Medeea said proudly. She jumped on the pile of people and Lincoln felt her throw her arms around him and give him a big kiss, right on the mouth.

  “Lincoln’s words are wise,” Arimus said.

  “And by their tomorrow, Guilietta and you will be

  in the bosom of the della Cappa family.”

  “Including us,” Lincoln added.

  Hansum opened his eyes and tried to look at the scene.

  “Let me up,” Hansum said, exhausted.

  “Learn your control, as I know you can.

  Accept the pain, it’s part of the plan.

  And know by accepting it, you may find a way

  to save your wife on another day.”

  By now Feltrino had dumped the unconscious Guilietta into the back of the wagon and tossed a blanket over her.

  “You didn’t say nothin’ about hurting her,” Ugilino argued, grabbing Feltrino’s shoulder. But for his trouble, Ugilino got Feltrino’s sword stuck in his arm. Blood poured out. Then Feltrino started screaming and swearing at Ugilino, telling him to get lost.

  “But I’m your squire. You said . . .” Feltrino slashed Ugilino’s face with his dagger. The astonished Ugilino ran several steps away. Feltrino laughed and berated him.

  “You, my squire? A filthy peasant like you? And such a fool? Oh, I might as well kill you now,” he said, taking a menacing step forward. At that, Ugilino turned and ran. Feltrino did not follow, but laughed wildly and re-sheathed his weapons.

  There was a stirring in the wagon. Feltrino turned around.

  “What’s this?” he said. A groggy Guilietta was pulling herself to a sitting position.

  “Now Hansum, observe,” Arimus said.

  “You must not turn away.”

  Feltrino walked casually to the wagon and leaned an elbow on it, looking into Guilietta’s bruised face. “You are made of more stout stuff than I supposed,” Feltrino said in a complimentary fashion. “That punch has felled many men for much longer.” It didn’t look like Guilietta was aware of her surroundings yet. Feltrino put a hand on her chin and faced her toward him. “You’re getting a pretty bruise, my little toy,” he said, admiring the raised welt on her cheek.

  Guilietta blinked several times and appeared to be gaining awareness. Finally, she recognized her captor and her eyes and mouth sprang open. Feltrino smiled and reached for her.

  “Please, no!” she screamed, but the bully’s strong hand grabbed her neck and squeezed. A pitiful gurgling came from Guilietta’s throat.

  “Steady, my boy, steady,” Arimus warned.

  Hansum closed his eyes, so as not to look.

  “Open your eyes.”

  Hansum did.

  Chapter 10

  As Kingsley and Shamira dropped out of the whirling vortex, they stopped kissing. Their faces were bright and flushed.

  “Now we can say we did it in a vortex,” Kingsley laughed.

  “Kissing, at least,” Shamira smiled. “I wonder where everybody is?”

  “Arimus said he was taking Hansum forward in time and wanted everyone to stay in the same timeframe. I guess he’ll call when they’re done. Do you think Hansum will have any problems? He was pretty emotional back at the house.”

  “It’s perfectly natural for him to cry after seeing Guilietta close up again. Arimus said so. I’m sure he’s standing tall and passing any test Arimus throws at him.”

  They were on one of the many winding narrow streets of medieval Verona.

  “Do you recognize where we are?” Kingsley asked.

  “I think we’re just off the big market.” She looked around, and then pointed to a church spire. “There’s where we were a few minutes ago, San Fermo. How’d you enjoy that?”

  “Immensely. Seeing all the art that didn’t survive to our times and the workmen working on the ceiling . . . incredible.” Then he looked around the street. “But one thing I hadn’t appreciated was just how much trash there would be lying around. It’s so dirty.”

  “There was little sanitation and no understanding of germs or microbes back then. It’s lucky we’re back out of phase, so you can’t . . . smell anymore,” she teased.

  “You got me really good with that butcher’s barrel.”

  “Sometimes people gotta learn the hard way,” she smiled.

  “Your point is taken,” and Kingsley bent forward and kissed Shamira again. She kissed back.

  “Kissing in the vortex is one thing,” Shamira teased again. “But to kiss an unmarried woman in public is frowned upon here . . . if she’s a respectable girl.”

  “But when we’re out of phase, are we really technically kissing in the 14th-century?”

  “That’s rather a philosophical question.”

  “I’ve got an idea,” Kingsley said, looking around. They were alone on the cobblestone streets. “I learned this from a very kissable girl.” He took his finger and lightly tapped his right emergency node. The air around his finger crackled and blue sparks flew. He drew a circle in the air and a portal, the size of his face, appeared. “You now. C’mon. Just for a second. What’s the harm?”

  “Oh, you are a naughty boy,” Shamira teased.

  “Well, this girl was very naughty too, and from the 24th-century. They’re the naughtiest.”

  Shamira touched her node and drew a circle. The air cracked and a portal opened. The hot, fetid air of the city rushed in. They both crinkled their noses and put their faces through the opening. They kissed again, giggling.

  “I don’t mind the smell, if it’s to kiss you,” Kingsley said.

  Just then, the pounding of feet coming around the corner caused them to turn their heads. A stocky man tore towards them. His cheek was sliced and blood was streaming from it. He was holding his shoulder and his tunic was covered in red.

  “Ugilino!” Shamira gasped.

  He ran right through Kingsley and came screeching to a halt, like he just realized he saw something. He turned towards Shamira and Kingsley and his eyes bulged even more. From his perspective, all he could have seen were two faces suspended in air, staring straight at him. Shamira and Kingsley pulled back at the same instant. A blue spark snapped in the air and they were gone. Ugilino turned and kept running.

  “Please, no!” a girl’s voice screamed from the direction Ugilino had just come.

  “That’s Guilietta!” Shamira said. They didn’t have long to run until they came around the corner and stopped quickly. There was the wagon with Feltrino, his hand on Guilietta’s throat. Arimus and Lincoln were clutching at Hansum, not far away.

  “Why aren’t Arimus and the guys doing anything? DO SOMETHING!” Kingsley shouted. Arimus’s head snapped around.

  Feltrino laughed as he raised the arm holding Guilietta’s neck, hoisting her up and almost strangling her.

  “I must put you to sleep again, pretty one, until later,” and Feltrino drew back his other arm, clenching his gloved fist. Guilietta winced and closed her eyes.

  “My sister! Guil
ietta, no!” Shamira screamed in terror. Neither Feltrino nor her sister could hear, but Shamira could see the reaction her fear had on Kingsley. He looked at Shamira and, without hesitation, pushed hard on his emergency node. The air crackled with blue flames and, pop, he was totally in the 14th-century.

  “No!” Arimus shouted.

  “The time is wrong!

  The girl is strong!”

  Hansum looked around when he heard the change of tone in Arimus’s voice. There was Kingsley, charging toward Feltrino. It was obvious he had come into phase with the 14th-century and couldn’t hear Arimus.

  Kingsley was big and he was fast. His participation in the ultra-physical sport of rugby had taught him how to run into a man with force and determination. He smashed into Feltrino and Guilietta flew back into the wagon as the two warriors crashed to the ground.

  “Holy Gia, no!” Arimus exclaimed, the first look of panic Hansum had ever seen on his mentor’s face. He spoke quickly to Hansum and Lincoln, even foregoing verse. “You must both help me. We grab Kingsley, keep Feltrino from getting his weapons, push Kingsley’s and our emergency nodes, then retreat. No speaking, no fighting, no helping the girl. No matter what,” Arimus ordered, a finger pointing right into Hansum’s face. Then the finger went to Hansum’s neck, pressing his emergency node and then pressing his own. “Lincoln, now.” The air around the three cracked with a blue aura and sparks.

  As they ran forward, Hansum could see Feltrino struggling ferociously under Kingsley’s weight. The bigger man had the Gonzaga’s arms clamped tight to his side, but Feltrino twisted unrelentingly. He was struggling to get one arm toward the dagger on his leg and the other to his sword. Hansum knew only too well of Feltrino’s skill and lack of compunction to use either. The experienced Gonzaga knight bucked and elbowed under Kingsley’s great bulk. He even twisted his neck and snapped his teeth, trying to find flesh.

  “Get your hands off me, peasant!” Feltrino spat. “I’ll kill you . . .”

  When Arimus, Hansum and Lincoln reached the struggling men, Arimus clamped a hand on Kingsley’s neck and put the other to his own. Hansum and Lincoln jumped with their full weight upon Kingsley, to keep Feltrino pinned.

  “NOW BOYS! YOUR NODES! TOGETHER!” Arimus shouted.

  Hansum was pushing his emergency node when he heard her voice.

  “Romero?” It was Guilietta. He looked up and there she was, bruised and bloody, peering over the side of the wagon. He felt the electrical tingle of the others disappearing into the future, and saw the reflection of the blue sparks in Guilietta’s eyes. His impossible dream of Guilietta once again looking into his eyes was happening. Then he felt Kingsley’s bulk disappear.

  “Guil . . .” Hansum began, when an elbow smashed into jaw and a fist hit his eye. He staggered back and fell to his hands and knees as Feltrino jumped to his feet, a dagger in one hand, a sword in the other. Static electricity was still arching off the cobblestones and the wagon.

  “What the . . .” Feltrino began, looking around for his other assailants. His look of momentary confusion was replaced by a wry smile. “It’s you, apprentice?” he asked. “All that fight from you? She must be good indeed to make you want to lose your life for her.” He slashed the air twice with his sword. “But I cannot stay and chat. I have a looker to deliver.”

  Hansum surreptitiously reached down and grabbed a loose cobblestone in one hand and a handful of dry horse dung in the other. As Feltrino stepped toward him, Hansum flung the dung into his face, which made Feltrino wince and pause, and then Hansum lifted the heavy brick to attack. Screaming, he lunged at his enemy, but Feltrino whirled around, swinging his sword. The weapon’s sharp edge met the brick, but first sliced clear through Hansum’s thumb.

  Hansum’s battle cry transformed to one of intense pain. He crashed to one knee, and then quickly bounced up and ran several steps away, so as not to be an easy target. Feltrino whipped his sword through the air again.

  “Run or die . . .” he began. That’s when Guilietta flew out of the wagon and fell upon the Gonzaga prince. He deftly twisted his body, throwing her off. Guilietta’s head and back slammed hard onto the street.

  “Guilietta!” Hansum screamed, pulling her off the ground and holding her close. Blood poured out of him and over the half-conscious girl. Holding her face to his breast while he faced the menacing Feltrino, he began running clumsily backwards. “Just take the looker and go, Feltrino. Please!”

  “Apprentice, you know I cannot leave you to tell,” a jovial Feltrino chided. “But how gallant of you to sacrifice a digit for your master’s child. Now you both shall sacrifice all,” he said raising his sword and stepping forward.

  “No, not Guil . . .” Hansum swung Guilietta around to protect her. He started to run, awkwardly lifting her off the ground. She looked up at him, a look of recognition finally reappearing.

  “Front or back, means naught to me,” he heard Feltrino say casually.

  “We must run . . .” Hansum began, when a stabbing pain exploded into his back. He felt the push of something terrible rip through his chest. A searing pain exploded in his lungs and shot up to his brain. His mouth gaped open . . . and then there was silence. He stopped and looked down at Guilietta . . . the same open-mouthed expression was on her face, her terrified eyes staring back at him. Then, her whole body shuddered and her eyes rolled up into her head. She began falling back, but Hansum could not find the strength to catch her. As she keeled over backward, away from her helpless husband, Hansum saw blood gush from her breast. Hansum’s dimming eyes followed Guilietta’s slow motion fall to the ground. That’s when he saw the foot of blood-drenched steel protruding from his own chest. His and her blood. His sight began to fade and the scene darkened.

  “Two with one,” he heard an echoing voice laugh. He felt a boot on his back, pushing him away and forward. Hansum was flying through space and time.

  BOOK TWO

  Of Today and Tomorrow

  Chapter 1

  “Okay, here’s a piece of his heart,” the human surgeon, Dr. Elizabeth Barnard said, holding a centimeter cube of red tissue with tweezers. “What do you think, Dr. Ramma?”

  The A.I. surgeon levitated close and analyzed what she held. He was a potato-shaped orb with two eyes, one with a monocle over it. He also had two piggy ears and a piggy nose with a fringe of bristly mustache underneath. Below that was a very serious mouth.

  “Analyzing,” he said, squinting his monocular eye. “Yes, cleanly done, my dear. This will do just fine. Put it in the growth medium.”

  A younger male human doctor brought a two liter container of liquid forward and Elder Dr. Barnard put the tissue in. It slowly drifted to the bottom.

  “Please put the beaker into the time chamber and set it for ninety days,” Dr. Barnard ordered.

  “Yes, mother,” the younger doctor replied. The time chamber was a solid box with a simple screen on one face. He touched the display. “Ninety days, Zat.” The line-drawing of a face appeared and spoke.

  “Okie dokie. See you then, Doc Stan. You too, Elder Dr. Barnard.” Then the image looked at the A.I. doctor. “See you in three months, Dad.”

  “Just get going, Zat,” the A.I. surgeon said. The face on the time chamber frowned, and then winked away into thin air. “He talks too much,” the A.I. father added.

  “Well, spending months by himself in a time vortex can be boring,” the younger doctor suggested.

  “You’re too hard on him, Ramma,” Dr. Barnard observed. “You were so patient with me, even when I was a bratty kid. And with Stan too. Why not with your own son?”

  “You two wanted to become doctors and worked hard. My boy said he wanted to, but didn’t put in the effort.”

  “Not everyone has it in them to be what they want to be, let alone what their parent wants,” Dr. Stan said. “And now that we have time travel, he’s found his place as a good time-travel tissue-minder. And he’s always been a good friend to me, ever since we were young.”

&nbs
p; “But he talks too . . .”

  Zat reappeared. He was yawning. “It’s done three days early,” the tissue-minder reported. “Strong heart.”

  Apprentice-surgeon Dr. Stan opened Zat’s lid and took out the beaker, which now contained a healthy, fist-sized heart with long veins and arteries growing from it. The two human and one A.I. came in for a close inspection.

  “Beautiful,” they said in unison.

  His vision was a blur of white and black static, like he’d seen on an ancient cathode ray tube at the museum of technology. A childish stick drawing of a devil danced against the static background, all the while poking a trident towards him. This was accompanied by a horrible pins-and-needles feeling that buzzed in his brain and bubbled throughout his whole body. It made him want to throw up. Finally a familiar sound entered his mind. Words.

  “I think he’s waking up,” a girl’s voice said. “Kingsley, get Lincoln. Hansum? Hansum, can you hear me? It’s Shamira.”

  As Hansum’s eyes quivered open, Shamira’s worried face appeared above him. He squinted against the hard light, and then Lincoln appeared, causing a shadow to block it.

  “Hey, pal, welcome back,” Lincoln was saying. He still seemed far away. “Can you hear me?”

  “Wha? Where?” A look of terror sprung to his eyes. “Feltrino! Guilietta!” Hansum tried to lunge forward, but a glowing red energy field held him back.

  “You’re not supposed to move, sweetheart,” Shamira said. “You have to stay still for a few days, but you’re going to be just fine.”

  Hansum didn’t answer. He just looked up at the ceiling.

  “She’s, she’s dead again. I got her killed even earlier.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” another voice said. Kingsley came into view, a hard look on his face. “It was my stupid actions that caused it. I didn’t understand . . .”

  “Don’t say that,” Shamira exclaimed. “Arimus told you . . .”

  “I don’t need someone to tell me when I make a mistake.”