Valencia quickly covered the view of the Wolv.  She popped open the full door, but Miss Watson would not stop screaming until her young man came running to hold her.

            “It was terrible, dead and staring.  Cold eyes full of evil.  It was evil.”  Miss Watson tried to explain between sobs of fear.  Valencia escorted the couple out the door, shut down the internal systems and sealed the door behind them.

            “Paper.”  Valencia tried to change the subject. 

            “Up here.”  The young man said and he escorted her to the main tent, but slowly because Miss Watson did not want to be let go.  She settled a little by the time they arrived and contented herself to sit in a chair while Valencia wrote out the phone number.

            “I’ll never be able to sleep.”  Miss Watson said.

            “So come back here tonight and keep me company,” the young man suggested.  “I have no intention of sleeping until these people come and take that thing away, whoever they are.”  It was an awkward but a sincere invitation.

            “I could come back,” Miss Watson said.  She looked at her man with hope.  “Oh, but I would be so close to that thing.”  She pointed.

            “Don’t worry.  The boy said two thousand years old.  I am sure after two thousand years it is dead.”

            “But—“

            “Besides.  I’ll stay with you.  Nothing will get you in the night.”

            “You better stay close.”

            “I will.  I promise.”

            “Ahem!”  Valencia had to cough to get their attention.  “Now no talking about this to anyone except these people.  You can talk to these people, but that’s it.  Especially don’t talk about it to Glen.”  She pointed at Miss Watson.  “Now we have to get going to get back to the city anywhere near the right time.”  She handed the phone number to the young man and went away.  Glen came back and immediately took Miss Watson by the hand.  He dragged her at first, but eventually she understood and let go of him.  The rest of the students were already loaded up in the bus, waiting.

            Glen took the seat right behind the driver and sat by the window.  Something was troubling him but he couldn’t name it.  By the time he got back to New York, he had forgotten most of what happened, but something held on and would not quite let go.  He took the A-train back down the West Side, took the Path and train home, but he was still concerned about something.  He went to bed that night with a worried look on his face.  It was not until one in the morning that the pieces came together. 

            “They might sleep for a hundred years or even a thousand years if not picked up.”  He said it himself.  “Or two thousand years.”  He said it out loud and added, “Damn!”  He got up and dressed as quietly as he could so as not to wake the family.  He went downstairs and jumped into the little Triumph convertible.  The top was already down.  The thing could not do better than fifty with a tailwind, but it was the only car he was allowed to drive.  He backed out of the driveway in the dark and turned on his headlights when he reached the street.  He hoped he could remember how to get there, and he said, “Damn, damn,” the whole way.

            Glen pulled up to the dig with his lights off.  What was he doing?  That was when he decided he was insane.  Still, he had come that far.  He had to see.  He turned the car, backed in for a quick getaway and crawled slowly into the dark, going from one bush to another as if the Wolv might not see him.  He knew the Wolv could not only see perfectly in the dark, it could hear him a mile away and smell him at an even greater distance, but being sneaky made him feel better.

            Glen found an arm near the main tent and he almost turned back.  Then he thought about throwing up but swallowed it back down.  There were pieces of people scattered everywhere around the digs.  He almost turned back again, but at last he went up into the tent and he found a survivor.  It was Miss Watson.  Her eyes were wide with madness and her fist was shoved deep into her mouth to prevent herself from screaming.

            “Come on,” Glen whispered.  The woman’s eyes did not move.  “Miss Watson.  It’s Glen.  Come on, we have to go.”  At the mention of his name, Miss Watson looked up but there was no sign in her eyes that she recognized him.  “We have to go.”  Glen spoke with more volume and like he had done the previous afternoon, he grabbed her hand and dragged her out of the tent.

            “No.”  She protested, feebly.  “If we move it may see us.”  But soon, like on the previous afternoon, she came to understand where they were headed and stopped resisting.  Glen could pick up the pace then and the woman had no trouble keeping up.

            Glen jumped into the driver’s seat as soon as they reached the car.  Miss Watson crawled up the trunk and fell into the back seat.  Glen started the engine but over top of the whine of that little four cylinder, they heard the howl.  It was close, and Glen left in as much of a cloud of dust and gravel that little Triumph could produce without stalling. 

            “I see it!”  Miss Watson screamed.  Glen checked his rearview mirror an saw it as well.  It looked to be about the size of the car and it was running on all fours and gaining.  After a short way, though, they got to some pavement and Glen revved it up from thirty-five to as near fifty as he felt was safe.  The Wolv could go across country, but Glen knew that on foot even the Wolv could not catch them at that speed.  Unfortunately, he also knew the Wolv could track them no matter how fast they went, and it would not give up no matter how long it took.

            “What is that thing?”  Miss Watson asked suddenly.  Glen glanced at her as she crawled over the seat and into the front bucket.  He imagined she must have blotted out the trauma of the dig for the moment.

            “Wolv.”  He answered as well as he could and concentrate on the road.

            “Wolf.  I can see that.”

            “No, Wolv.”  Glen shook off the correction and decided to go in a different direction.  “An alien.  Not smart.  Not sophisticated in engineering.  Probably could not fix the escape pod, but not stupid.  Clever and cunning.  The Humanoid Empire used them as front line troops in battle, and they rarely had to send in the second line.  They are warriors, hunters and absolute killers—predators.”

            “Wolv.”  Miss Watson tried to word.

            “So how did you, you know, survive?”  He asked and the woman looked at him at first as if she did not understand what he was asking, but then she did and she looked away.

            “I was in the outhouse.  I heard the screams.  I did not dare come out.”

            “All that shit probably disguised your scent.”

            “I heard it sniffing around the outside and I almost screamed myself.  But then it went away.  I waited a full hour.  When I came out, I saw…”  The woman began to cry and Glen hardly knew what to say.

            “We’ll get through this,” he said at last.  “We will survive this.”

            It was a few minutes before the lights came on in the ship and Glen’s voice echoed up from below.  “Miss Watson and the young man can come down.  Grumpy too if he promises not to yell anymore.  Be careful where you put your feet, though.  This whole thing is tipped on its side.”  Glen was glad all they could really step on was visuals, scanner arrays and the opposite door, not weapons or engine works which were on two of the walls.

            The young man came first.  Miss Watson followed with a word.  “The Professor said he can wait until it gets uncovered.”  Glen nodded as the young man stopped, stared and asked what was on his mind.

            “What happened to that other man?”

            “He went home for the present,” Glen said.

            “Oh?”

            “Yeah, roughly fourteen hundred years or so in the future.”  Both Miss Watson and the young man looked at Glen like maybe he was lying, but Glen ignored the reaction.  He took a hand from each and spoke of three things.

            “First, I am going to need you to tell the professor to get everyone back at least a hundred yards from this site.  Think football field.  Second, I never should have changed like that in front of everyone.  That is top secret and so is what you are about to see.  I will give you a phone number you can call and have this ship picked up, but first you must promise you will never speak of this to anyone, especially me.”

            “You?”  Miss Watson could not help the interjection.

            Glen nodded.  “Normally I don’t remember this stuff, like I am sleepwalking through life or something.  If you talk about it with me when I’m just normally walking around that might be like waking a sleepwalker.  That can be very dangerous, you know.”

            “And the third?”  The young man asked.

            “Promise you won’t let go.  It’s tradition.” 

            “Huh?  Sure.”

            Glen did not wait.  He vanished and a woman took his place.  She was dressed in a kind of dress that could only be described as Roman.  Miss Watson shrieked and let go.  The young man gulped but held on.

            “I better go back up and see the Professor gets everyone away from this thing,” the man said with only a little shakiness in his voice.

.            ”Good idea.”  The woman encouraged him.  “I was born around 761 BC.  No telling if I can fly this thing.”

            The man merely nodded and swallowed some more while he climbed back up the rope.

            “My name is Valencia by the way, like the orange.”  Valencia rolled her eyes at having to say that every time, but she stuck out her hand to shake with Miss Watson.

            “Debbie Watson.”  The woman put her hand out, but with some obvious reluctance.  Valencia grabbed the wrist and shook it vigorously.

            “I know who you are.  Just as well your man left it to us women, don’t you think?”

            “Oh, no.”  Miss Watson shook her head, shyly, but a little smile crept into the corners of her lips.  “He is not my man.”

            “He should be.”

            “Us women?”

            “What do I look like to you?  I know I can come across as butch sometimes but really!”

            “Oh, no.  I get it.  I just thought Glen, you, you know, he—“

            “I was born in 761 BC.  Want to know when I died?”

            “No!”  Miss Watson shouted the word.  “I mean, I don’t get it.  Why did Glen pick you?  I assume he picked you somehow.”

            Valencia smiled and took a moment to brush her long red hair straight back.  She had no bangs and no center part, either.  She picked up the rope and finally answered.  “Because I can fly,” she said, and she left the ground.  Miss Watson shut her eyes and began to mumble.

            “No, this is too much.  I can’t take this.  This is too much.”

            Valencia carried the rope up to the hatch and threw it out of the ship.  “Hey you!”  She shouted as the young man was coming back to give them the all clear.  Valencia wagged her finger to call him in close.  The young man came without hesitation.  He ignored the fact that Valencia had to be flying, like his brain simply refused to process that thought.

            “Ask her out,” Valencia said.  “She would really like that.  Now, get that Jeep out of here.”  The man nodded and ran to the jeep while Valencia closed the hatch.

            “I can’t believe you said that!”  Miss Watson came out of her mumbles long enough to yell.

            “What else are girlfriends for?”  Valencia asked and she flew to where she could stand on the actual floor of the ship.  That put her at ninety degrees to the earth.  “Ready to slide to the floor?”  She asked, but she did not wait for an answer.  She touched the necessary controls to cause the center of the ship to rotate within the hull.  It took a second, but as Miss Watson slid to the floor, exactly as prophesied, Valencia found herself standing upright.  “Now, let’s see.”

            Valencia was not sure how to work the rest of it.  There seemed to be some division of opinion in time.  At last she picked the consensus route and the whole ship shook rather vigorously.  It was like an earthquake outside the ship, but they felt little on the inside until the ship broke free of the earth and shot up about three miles into the sky in almost no time.

            “Wee-hee!”  Valencia shouted.

            “My God!”  Miss Watson had a very different reaction.  “Can we get back down?”  She ran to the hatch window and looked out on the clouds.

            “Not yet.”  Valencia said, and she moved them to an upper Earth orbit in about five minutes.

            Miss Watson said nothing at first while Valencia came to stand beside her.  At last Miss Watson shared her feelings.  “It’s beautiful.”

            “It is.”  Valencia said.  “I always wanted to see, but I didn’t dare tell Saturn.”

            “The planet?”  Miss Watson wondered.

            “The god.”  Valencia answered without batting an eye.  “But now I suppose we had better all go home.”  She returned to the controls and within another fifteen minutes, managed a relatively soft landing on the archeological site.

            “One thing I don’t understand.”  Miss Watson had apparently been thinking that whole time.  “If this is a sphere, why is it square inside?”

            “Ah!”  Valencia had already figured that out for herself and was rather proud at having done so.  “The six corner sections are cryogenic chambers.  This is an escape pod.  Normally, it is programmed to fly at near light speed to some destination.  Depending on where that is, though, they might sleep for a hundred years or even a thousand years if they aren’t picked up.  So they sleep until rescue so as not to age in the waiting time.”

            “But by the time they get rescued, everyone they know will be dead.”

            “Not human,” Valencia reminded her.  “Why it crashed to earth, I don’t know.  If there were humanoid survivors, the pod would have been picked up with the humanoids.  You may find some interesting bones on this dig, you know.”

            “You don’t mean—“  Miss Watson paused in thought while Valencia nodded.  “Sleep chambers?  You mean like, what do they call it, suspended animation?”

            “Here, let me show you.”  Valencia uncovered the view of one of the chambers and Miss Watson screamed.  There was a snarling wolf head staring at her, dead eyes open.

Exciting Scenes from Last Week: 

On Monday I blogged on the Other Earth (I invite you to click on the tab above and read all about it).  That other earth might best be called a “spatial” world as conceived by Hawkings, which is to say, a completely natural phenomenon.  Since that universe is only one notch (so to speak) from our own, the laws of physics hold true there except for one thing.  There is a strong influx of creative and variable energy there which allows for the manipulation of matter and energy – or to be more pedestrian about it, there is magic on that Other Earth.

This, however, is not what most people think of when they imagine alternate universes. 

Instead, people tend to think and the literature of Science Fiction tends to portray what I call “temporal” universes.  These are earths where, in my view, something significant or several significant events occurred differently at some point in history and thus the whole world turned out different.  In fact, that is what the Gaian people – humans from a very technologically advanced earth call these time created universes: the Worlds.

Let me first say that unless the event is significant, chances are history won’t remember.  Family history might be changed for a time; even national history in some small ways, but eventually the changes will fade or blend into the background and this universe will go on without division.  History paints with a very broad brush.

In order to create a new universe (a new timeline) the change must be historic.  Think of Alexander (the Great) being assassinated with his father and so he never conquers the Persians and never becomes “great.”  Lincoln surviving his assassination attempt, on the other hand, might not be enough by itself to change things since Johnson, his vice-president thrust into the presidency, pretty much followed Lincoln’s outline for reconstruction.  In a couple of thousand years, what will it matter?  Then again, tanks suddenly appearing on the Appian Way and rumbling into Ancient Rome would certainly change things.

In the Gaian universe, by way of comparison, the steam engine was discovered by the Greeks centuries before it was “discovered” in Alexandria.  AND, there were people back then who became aware of the steam discovery and who had some notion of what it might be good for.  As a result, Alexander the Great laid rail lines all the way up the silk road to China…

The thing about these Worlds which is important from a story perspective is first, to acknowledge that our earth is not at the pinnacle of technological advancement.  There are all sorts of earths with a technology we cannot imagine who are already traveling the worlds or just learning to travel among the worlds.  The second point is to realize that not everyone traveling the worlds will have the best interests of others at heart.  In fact, some will be downright dangerous – and some might not even be entirely human…

So, you might ask which is the real (original) timeline?  The only possible answer is they all are.  There is no reason to distinguish any line on that level, to think one is more original than another..  Of course, some do.  The Sorvee, for example, regard themselves as real and everyone else more like intelligent animals needing to be controlled and trained.  The Shinarites imagine people from other worlds as hardly more than shadows of real life.  But thus the stories…

Now, there is another form of “alternate universes” but that will have to wait until the next post.

###

At present there are no stories of the Worlds above.  In time, barring any significant historical change, there will be.

            The best thing about being seventeen and a high school graduate is having a whole summer to laze around before college.  Knowing this, Glen’s mother signed him up for a summer course.  Glen was ticked at first, but the course was in Archeology, a topic that interested Glen thanks to his Uncle, and it was being taught at the Museum of Natural History in New York City so all in all that was not so bad.  The train ride into the city, the path, and the chance to take the A-train all the way up the West Side alone made it worthwhile.

            Glen’s Uncle was an amateur archeologist in Arkansas.  He never got out of the ninth grade, and the PhDs had terrible names for a man like him, but he could read the soil better than anyone Glen ever knew, and he taught Glen to do the same.  Glen’s Uncle cherished the things he found, and he was respectful of the descendants of his digs who still lived on reservations in Oklahoma.  They were glad to see that someone was making the effort to learn and preserve their history and heritage, and so with that approval in his pocket, Glen’s Uncle did a lot of digging.  Eventually, he had several articles published in scholarly magazines, and more than once the University of Arkansas called on his help in their digs, and why?  Because Glen’s Uncle could read the dirt better than anyone Glen ever knew.

            On the last day of the class in New York, Glen and his classmates met early in the morning, piled onto a bus, and drove to a dig back in New Jersey somewhere up around High Point.  New Jersey Indians were not nearly as well heeled as the Caddo in the Southwest.  The dig was small, but interesting when they took the tour.  Then they had time to wander and watch as long as they stayed out of the roped off areas.  Most of the students watched the work in progress.  Glen knew that was like watching grass grow, so he thought to wander toward one area that was cleared of vegetation and grass but which was not roped off.

            “Excuse me.”  He stopped a man who had gone back to his jeep for a trowel and brush or something.  “Has this been cleared for future exploration?”  The whole area was dug into a pit about a foot deep, but no one was working there.

            “No,” the man responded.  “We thought there were signs there.  It looked promising, but it proved to be nothing.”

            “What do you mean nothing?”  Glen asked.  He examined the dirt.  “Look at this.  There are red, brown, and yellow specks mixed in all of this.  Somebody dug through several layers of dirt to bury something here.  Look.  There is even some charcoal here like from a ceremonial fire mixed in.”

            “That’s what I thought.”  The man swerved to join Glen.  “But we dug some test holes.  Here, here and I think here.”  He pointed to three spots along the perimeter.  “We went down about six feet but found nothing.”

            “Do the test in the middle first to see if there is something there.  That’s what my Uncle taught me.  If there is something, you can mark the perimeter after and work your way slowly to pay dirt.”

            “Your Uncle?”

            Glen looked up at the man and felt the embarrassing need to lie.  “University of Arkansas.”  It wasn’t a complete lie, he told himself.  “Got a shovel?  Mind if I dig since you folks aren’t interested?”

            The man hardly hesitated.  He took Glen to a stack of shovels and let him pick.  “I always thought there was something there only my colleagues talked me out of it.  Good luck, kid.”

            Glen dug, right in the middle, and not very far before two things happened.  First his shovel went “Clunk!”  It was not the clunk of metal shovel against stone, but the sound of metal against metal.  A few more shovelfuls and he uncovered a two-foot wide space and knew it was a sphere.  The other thing that happened was an older gentleman saw him and started a row.

            “Put that shovel down.  Get away from there this instant.”  The man made a terrific racket and got everyone’s attention as he came running.  To be sure, the poor man was terrified of being sued in case Glen got hurt; but Glen ignored him.  He continued to remove clods of dirt until he had the whole top hatch uncovered.  You see, he was driven because he recognized the symbol in the center of the hatch.  It was the symbol of the royal house of Hacharri of the seventeenth Hungdin dynasty of the Humanoid Empire.  That same voice in his head was telling him the ship, and it was a ship, had to be at least two thousand years old.

            When the man arrived, he stopped and stared.  The younger man Glen had first met was there as well, along with his teacher, Miss Watson.  They were all open mouthed and staring, so Glen thought it safe to speak.

            “Got a rope?”  He asked as he touched the external release button.  The hatch popped and there was a great whoosh of air while the two pressures equalized before the hatch opened wide to reveal a dark hole in the earth.

            “Rope.”  The younger man yelled and a University student came running.  “Flashlights.”  He added the word, but two other students had to run off to fetch them, and a lantern.

            “I might be able to get the lights on,” Glen said.  “This thing has a ten-thousand year half-life battery and it can’t have been buried here much more than two thousand years.”

            “What?”  The old man did not believe what he heard.  He looked at Miss Watson, but she could only shrug.

            When the rope arrived, someone backed up a jeep and the rope got tied to the trailer hitch.  Then Glen prepared to descend, but the old man got in his way.

            “You can’t go down there.  There is no telling what is down there or how deep it is.”  Glen dropped the rope into the hole and they clearly heard the clunk as it struck bottom.  He grinned for the old man.  “Absolutely no chance of you going down there.  Miss Watson, your class needs to leave, now.”  Miss Watson only looked disappointed, and the young man Glen met first looked equally disappointed.  But then something or someone rose up inside of Glen and he did something rarely seen in seventeen year old boys in those days.  He told off a full college professor who was used to being in charge.

            “No!  I am the only one who can go down there.  You have no idea what you are dealing with.  You touch the wrong spot and you can blow up the whole eastern seaboard.”  Then Glen left that place and Captain Dimitri Alesandros of the Solar Defense Force came from the future to stand in his place.  There were plenty of gasps and shock when Dimitri appeared, but Glen thought the military Captain would at least command respect and have the right words for the situation, him being more mature and all.

            “Move it fatso,” Dimitri said, and somewhere in time and space Glen sighed.  “Hand me the torch, er, flashlight.”  With that, he slowly lowered himself into the hole and no one dared stop him.

            Pumpkin zoomed into the barn and shouted at the top of her wee lungs.  “Brunch!”

            “Yipee!”  Martok’s excited shout interrupted everyone, and made the empathic fairy excited as well.  She flitted back and forth and did several back flips in mid-air before she finally came to land on Alice’s shoulder.  Martok was just too scary, she said.

            “This treaty is amazing.”  Alice spoke for the first time in an hour as if having a fairy land on her shoulder triggered her mouth.  “It is so detailed and there is not a flaw in it.”

            “It lasted four-hundred years,” Martok responded.  “A single species treaty lasting that long is good.  This one was interstellar, between two species, and ambitious ones at that.  The Zalanid were really that good.”

            “Remarkable.  I have to meet this Mister Smith of yours.” Alice added under her breath as Emile stood up from the back of a console and spoke.

            “That should do it.”

            “Good,” Martok replied and he switched it on.  “Hold your ears, Pumpkin.”  He tuned to the right frequency, picked up the microphone and spoke in a sound like metal garbage cans being thrown against garage doors—only louder.  When he was finished, he switched the machine off without waiting for a response.  “Hopefully that will delay any more hostilities until we can get there to meet with them.”  He then removed a small metal ball from the communicator and slipped it in his pocket.

            “Didn’t you need that magic metal circle thing?”  Alice wondered about the communication.  Alice of Avalon needed it last time to speak to the Vordan prisoner.  Martok merely smiled to reveal his teeth one last time before he vanished and let Glen return to his own time and place.

            “No,” Glen said before he took a breath as if he was still Martok speaking, which in a sense he was.  “Martok is fluent in Vordan and has the voice for it.  It is English that gives him trouble.”  He smiled a very human smile at that thought before he added, “Okay, Pumpkin.  You can stop holding your ears now.”

            “Breakfast?”  Miriam the marine suggested, and they all thought it was a good suggestion.  They were quiet as they walked up to the main building except for Mirowen and Emile who brought up the rear and were still whispering.

            Lockhart met them at the door.  “Cafeteria food.”  He apologized and escorted them to the cafeteria.  “When are we going to get some alien visitors who know how to cook?”

            “As long as they don’t try to cook us.”  Sergeant Thomas suggested what several thought.

            “No.”  Lockhart quickly pointed at Glen, but Glen just shook his head.

            “They liked their flesh raw.”  He did not explain.

            Everyone found something in the cafeteria line they wanted.  It was truly a brunch with eggs and pancakes as well as roast beef, baked ham, fried chicken and plenty of greens.  When they found a round table that could fit eight, they sat and the small talk started.  It was only a short while, though, before Bobbi and Colonel dipstick joined them and forced everyone to squeeze. 

            Pumpkin and Boston were getting along well.  The fairy sat right on the table in front of Boston’s plate and picked tiny bites of this and that.  She also had a juice glass of milk which she said was like a bucket for her.  “You try drinking a bucket of milk.”  She said that more than once, but she enjoyed it.

            Glen was made to sit with Boston on one side and Alice on the other.  Glen did his best to ignore Alice.  He knew she had questions.  He pretended to focus on Pumpkin at first, and then he trained his eyes on Mirowen and Emile.  Then he was glad when Bobbi joined them even if the Colonel, whose real name was Veber, like “Vay-ber” not Weber came with her.  Of course, Glen imagined Darth Vader when he saw the man, but in private he used the name dipstick.

            Doctor Roberts tried to hide his face.

            “Too late Doctor Roberts,” Colonel Veber pointed even as he motioned for the marines to keep their seats.  “You are already eating with an officer, isn’t that right?”  He looked squarely at Glen. 

            “Me?  Never, that I recall.  Doctor Mishka was a full Colonel, but she was soviet.  Casidy was a light Colonel, but it was more honorary than real.  He was really a Federal Marshal.  Michelle Marie had no rank.  I think George just kept her around for window dressing.  She was kind of like a team mascot for a while there.”

            “George?”  Someone had to ask.

            “Washington.”  Glen responded with an absolutely straight face and everyone hushed for a second because they knew Glen was telling the truth.

            “My buddy Lars had rank.”  Pumpkin spoke into the silence.

            “Captain.”  Glen nodded.  “But that was before there was a United States.”  He grinned for the fairy and Pumpkin giggled, just a little.

            Colonel Veber raised an eyebrow, but only one before he turned on Emile Roberts.  “You know, I still think you should be shot for stealing government property.”  Doctor Roberts merely shrugged, but Mirowen got flush.

            “That was my property,” she shot back at the man.  “It did not belong to the United States government.”

            “The mysterious accomplice I assume.”  Colonel Veber smiled and nodded to the beauty.  “But you don’t exactly sound like a patriot yourself.”

            “She’s an illegal alien,” Bobbi interjected. 

            “From further away than you can even imagine,” Lockhart added, and several people had to hide their smiles.

            Colonel Veber did not find it funny.  “I could have you arrested right now.”  He threw his napkin to the table.

            “Fake maple syrup!”  Glen yelled and distracted everyone.  “Don’t you have any real maple?  I hate the fake stuff.”  He looked up at the Colonel.  “And threats give me indigestion.” 

            Colonel Veber was not intimidated, but he took back his napkin and focused on his brunch for a bit.  There was silence around the table then until Alice picked up her steno pad and spoke.

            “So what is a Wolv?”  She grinned at Glen.  She knew that he was now trapped into answering and everyone turned to listen.

            The red shack turned out to be a small barn.  There was a woman out front in overalls and grease up to her elbows, or so it appeared.  When she greeted Glen by tipping her head down and saying “Lord,” Alice took a second look.  The woman was beautiful and Alice began to think this was a standard thing for the Traveler.  It made her feel a twinge of envy because while she knew she was pretty in her own right, she felt like nothing compared to the women she had seen so far, including the women of the Traveler.  She concentrated.

            “Mirowen.”  Glen gave the woman a name.

            The woman, Mirowen moved when a man came out of the barn to join her and Alice caught a glimpse of pointed ears under the woman’s long and straight raven black hair.

            “An elf.”  Pumpkin whispered in Alice’s ear and Alice nodded to say she had just guessed.  The man, however, looked thoroughly human.

            “Emile.”  Lockhart named the man.

            “Director,” the man responded to Lockhart.

            “What are you two doing here?”  Glen asked the obvious question.

            “Nothing,” Mirowen said, but Glen frowned because he knew it was a lie.  Mirowen turned away from her Lord to look at the man.  “I don’t know what Emile may be doing since we are not speaking to each other.”

            The man looked at the elf and nodded before he turned again to the group.  “But it should be fun later when we make up,” he said.

            Glen was not buying it.  He pushed forward and the couple only made a passing stab at trying to stop him from entering the barn.

            “What the—what did you do?  Doctor Roberts!”  Glen shouted even though the Doctor followed him in and stood at his shoulder.

            “Emile.”  Mirowen nudged the man.  He looked at her with an expression that said she was equally culpable.

            The barn contained a ship–a sphere some thirty feet in diameter, but it was presently hard to see since so much of it had been taken apart.  There were plates off the outer hull stacked in the corner, and much of the insides were scattered around on several tables and the floor.  It still had the basic shape, but it would never fly again, at least not without a great deal of work.

            “What is it?”  The woman marine asked in a quiet voice that suggested wonder.

            “The Vordan fighter?”  Alice also wondered out loud and spoke over the marine.

            “A museum piece.”  Glen responded haphazardly.  His eyes were busy making an inventory of all the pieces he could see, but his mouth went on to explain.  “This is, or was, an escape pod from an Humanoid battle cruiser, and a high ranking family at that.  I saw one in a museum once hundreds of years in the future.  We found this one in New Jersey some years ago.”  Glen ducked his head into a hole in the ship, but he kept speaking and no one interrupted.

            “I recall at the time I figured this ship had to be two-thousand years old.  It turned out there was a Wolv still on board in suspension, and that was trouble, let me tell you.”  Glen pulled his head back out and frowned at Emile and Mirowen.  “This thing could approach light speed and had a better weapons array than all the Vordan ships combined—as long as it was working.”

            “And this was just an escape pod?”  The marine sergeant stepped up.  “I would like to see the battle cruiser it came from.”

            “Two thousand years old?”  The woman marine was still in a state of wonder, but again her words were buried under Emile’s outburst.

            “But it is dead, completely.  No power.”

            Glen reached back inside the ship and touched several places on the inner wall—a portion of the wall that was still there.  Immediately there was a hum and after a moment some lights came on.  “Ten thousand year half-life batteries,” Glen said and he went back to his inventory.

            “That tears it.”  Alice huffed.  “Pumpkin, would you go visit Boston?”  Pumpkin flittered off Alice’s shoulder while Alice put down her laptop and began to write furiously on her steno pad.  Pumpkin hesitated.

            “I’m supposed to ask,” the fairy said.

            Boston grinned like the Cheshire cat at the idea.  “Yes, please.”  She spoke through that great array of teeth.  Pumpkin waited for no further invitation.  She took a seat on Boston’s shoulder and only tugged briefly on Boston’s short red hair—hair that would offer little cover.

            Lockhart watched the whole thing with a grin of his own.  He also saw Mirowen elbow Doctor Roberts in the ribs to get his eyes back on her and his mind back on topic.  They had been whispering.  He watched Alice the lawyer scribble on her pad before he sighed and wheeled his own wheelchair forward, hard as that was to do in the dirt and at his age.

            “So what now?” he asked.

            Glen pulled his head back out of the ship again, and the marines, who had been looking over his shoulder came with him.  “Now you get two more recruits.”

            “We don’t normally take grunts, as the Princess calls them.”

            Glen ignored the comment and considered the marines.  “Embassy?”  He asked the sergeant.

            “Yes, sir.  Don Thomas, and whatever you think of the President’s actions it seems to me you could use some grunts about now.  Miriam’s from the Pentegon.”

            Glen shook the sergeant’s hand and did not let go when he took a hand from the woman.  “Miriam?  Lebanese Christian?”

            “Yes, sir.”  The woman nodded.  “Very good, sir.  And I am sorry.  I just do secretarial.”

            “There, see?  Another file clerk.”  Glen spoke to Lockhart before turned to the marines and looked each in the eyes.  “Well, right now I need to change,” he said.  “Your first job for this crazy outfit is to hold on and promise not to let go.”  The marines looked at each other but said nothing.

            “Promise,” Lockhart said, sharply.

            “It’s tradition,” Glen added with a smile and a squeeze of each hand.  The marines nodded and Glen went away.  Martok the Bospori came to stand in his place.  Miriam just smiled, utterly fascinated by all of this, but Sergeant Thomas jumped back with a brief exclamation of surprise.

            “Someone always lets go,” Martok sighed in his deep Bospori voice.  The depth and tone sounded odd coming from one who was only five feet tall.  He looked human enough, though, if he did not smile and show off his canines, and if one did not get close enough to realize his hair was really black fur, and if he wore shades.  The yellow cat-like eyes were a bit of a giveaway.  Alice saw the eyes and guessed right away.

            “Martok.”

            “And pleased to meet you, too, Alice the lawyer who should be reviewing treaty clauses.”  He smiled to show her his full set of very sharp teeth.  “I’ll be a while so you have time to work.”  Alice dared not argue.  She swallowed and got her laptop.

            “Boston and I, and I guess Mrs. Pumpkin will go see about breakfast.”  Lockhart volunteered.  “I’ll try and get the limos and flatbed here as soon as I can, oh, and can we leave the three stooges out of it this time.”

            “What?  Moi?”  Martok spoke with the smile still in place.  “But watching humans hit each other over the head and pull hair and poke in the eyes is so funny.”  Lockhart was not buying it.  “Don’t worry.  This time I only see two stooges.”  Martok lost the smile and stared at Mirowen and Emile before he climbed fully into the ship.  “Roberts!”  He roared as soon as he got inside and everyone jumped.

            Glen got up early despite the fact that he had so little sleep in the night.  Pumpkin slept on the pillow on the floor next to Boston who was curled up in a ball and shivered against the cold tile.  As he rose, Glen took his hospital blanket and covered the girl, and he smiled because he managed to do it without waking her or the fairy.  Then he tip-toed towards the infirmary exit only to discover that Alice was up, waiting.

            “Don’t think you are going to get away,” she whispered.  “I have more questions now than ever.”

            Glen hushed her and took her hand to minimize the noise.  It didn’t help.  Pumpkin zoomed up to land on Glen’s shoulder before the door shut.

            “Where we going?” The fairy asked in the same kind of whisper Alice used. 

            “Apparently nowhere.”  Alice spoke out loud.  There was a soldier with a gun in the hallway.

            “Sir.  Mam.  I need to see your papers.”

            “What is this all about?”  Alice, the lawyer took the lead. 

            “Marines, Mam.  The President is taking over this operation, now I would appreciate seeing your papers.”

            “Pumpkin.  Go get our papers,” Glen said.

            “Yes, Lord,” Pumpkin responded and zoomed back into the room.  She turned the door handle with a bit of magic dust. and the poor marine got his first look at a real, live fairy.  His eyes got very big and his mouth opened wide.

            “That is very good, wouldn’t you say?”  Alice nudged Glen.  She decided to approach all of this from a different angle.  “My reaction was not nearly that photogenic.”

            “I don’t know—“ Glen hedged but Pumpkin returned before he could say more.

            “But we haven’t got any papers,” Pumpkin said as she hovered in Glen’s face.

            “Hey, hey!”  The marine caught two more marines in the hallway and waved them to join him.  The woman was instantly enchanted, but the man wanted to reach for his gun.”

            “None of that.”  Glen, Alice and the first marine, a sergeant spoke more or less together before Glen continued.

            “The director is in there, asleep.  You need to stay here and see she is not disturbed.”  He spoke to the trigger happy man before he turned to Pumpkin.  “You need to ride on Alice’s shoulder.  She has hair you can hide in.”  He turned to the sergeant.  “You are in over your head, but you are welcome to come along if you want to keep an eye on us.”  He turned to the woman marine.  “You need to tell the President he is ticking me off.  I told him we would be there this afternoon.”  He turned last to Alice who squinted as if the fairy might hurt when she  settled on her shoulder.  “And you need to be working on that treaty.”  Glen smiled.  “There, did I miss anyone?”

            The woman marine raised her hand and Glen nodded in her direction.  “Can I come, too?”

            “Sure, where are we going?”  Glen heard the words and turned around.  It was Lockhart in his wheelchair and Boston was behind him, yawning.

            “The assistant director.”  Glen identified Lockhart.  The Sergeant straightened up which caused the other two marines to come to attention.

            “Sir.  The President’s compliments.  He feels after the events of yesterday this base needs protecting.”

            Lockhart frowned.  Glen spoke up.  “Alice.  Open that laptop.  Check the Code of Establishment in the Charter, article 17, section c I think.  I believe you will find this organization was established to function independently from the three federal branches.  Neither the President nor the Congress has the right to send troops or even visit without asking first, or something to that effect.”

            “My God!”  Alice shrieked.  “This says the organization was established by the Continental Congress.  Look.  Look there.  John Adams.  Thomas Jefferson.”

            “Article 17.”  Glen interrupted and tapped the computer.  “I insisted that be in there.  Ben understood.”

            “Ben?”  Boston spoke through her yawn.

            “Ben Franklin.”  That woke her up.

            “I’ve read the Code.”  The voice came from down the hall.  All three marines snapped to serious attention and saluted.  The colonel returned their salute.  “The President figures you are so secret, who is going to know?”

            “I’ll know,” Glen said.  The Colonel was not impressed until Glen remembered where he saw this man before.  “What?  Area 51 get flattened when the Vordan brought their battleships to earth?”

            The Colonel stared at him for a second while Glen’s words sunk in  “Very perceptive,” the Colonel answered, but his words were overshadowed by the shouts.

            “What?  No!  When?”  The loudest shout was from behind the infirmary door.  Bobbi came barreling out, half-dressed.  “Are you sure?  Those battleships came to earth?”

            Glen nodded, gave Bobbi a good morning hug and started to walk at a quick pace toward the front door.  Alice jumped, closed the laptop and hurried to catch up.  Pumpkin complained about the bumpy ride.  The marine woman and the Sergeant were a step behind.  Lockhart came last, but Boston got up on the foot rests on the back of the wheelchair and Lockhart turned on the electric motor so they caught up quickly.  Glen felt bad about leaving Bobbi to deal with Colonel dipstick, but he had things to do.

            “The red shack still out back?” he asked.

            “Yep,” Lockhart answered.

            “The thing still on ice?”

            “Mostly,” Boston said.

The world has 6.9 billion people.  These United States, 311 million before the 2010 census results.

R. R. Bowker book industry report for 2009.

2009 more than 40% of Americans bought a book.  (2008 figure was over 50%).  Average age: 42.  With Fantasy (science fiction) being purchased (believe it or not) evenly by men and women (where women average 64% of all purchases in other genres of fiction and literature). 

From Literary insights:  Book industry Study Group

55% of (Hard) Science fiction is still bought by men, though 65% of all fiction purchases were made by women.  (We may assume (soft) Science fiction/fantasy tends toward more women purchasers).

Book editorial and marketing stats:

@7% of all fiction sales are in science fiction and fantasy (perhaps a bit more because this excludes occult and horror, all of those SF/F stories that get lumped in with mainstream or contemporary fiction and literature, and young adult.  I suppose a case could be made for 10%).

What does all this mean?

Well, sticking with just the U.S., we begin with 311 million people.

We first have to subtract the roughly 20% under 13 (the above statistics exclude them)

That leaves @ 250 million Americans.

40% of this is 100 million book purchasers.

53% of these peope read fiction. (Publisher’s Weekly)  That’s 53 million fiction readers.

7% of that number is roughly 3.5 million purchasers of science fiction and fantasy.

For me, that is a potential target audience of 3.5 million readers.  (A conservative estimate).  So all I have to do is figure out how to connect.  And the Author’s Guild suggests that 5,000 books is a good sell for fiction…  But how to connect?

Sure, there is the standard response found in the word of the decade: “Networking.”  Advertise your blog on forums, facebook, linked-in, twitter, winken, blinken and nod.  Give readers some samples to chew on. Etc. etc.  But I am not talking about simple advertising or even marketing.  I am talking about locating and connecting.  That is not quite the same thing… if you know what I mean…  So, any thoughts?

            In the morning, they set out for Cavan on foot, the van having been repossessed in the night.  Moira had to carry Mother most of the way, but she did not mind because the cat was warm.  After a short way, Moira cinched up her jacket, partially unzipped it and the cat was content to ride against her belly like a baby and peek out now and then to see where they were going.

            Mickey walked close to Moira the whole way, and Michaela never left his side.  At first Moira thought Michaela’s attention to Mickey was because of what was following her, but after a while she realized it was where Michaela wanted to be.  The others were content to follow behind with Prickles bringing up the rear; except for Ignatius who lead them by some supposed secret elf paths which he said would get them to Cavan much quicker than the normal roads; and Pumpkin who rode on Moira’s shoulder when she wasn’t flitting off to check out a leaf or smell a plant which, after a while, all looked alike to Moira.

            “Lady, the magic you displayed was amazing.”  Mickey spent a good part of the way praising her.  He could not say enough, but after the first few heady minutes, for Moira, it was more than enough.  “You just swatted away his traps like they were no more than flies.  Swat, swat!  I can do a little magic, but nothing like what you showed.”

            Moira smiled, wanly.  “Grandma says it isn’t magic, exactly.  It is more a matter of the blood, and natural like walking or breathing, though some of it is more like learning to ride a bicycle or even higher mathematics.  You know, some of it isn’t so easy.”  She tried to explain more than once, but Mickey was just too amazed to hear her.

            “And the way these people follow you.  Why, I never heard of elves and fairies and a hobgoblin no less doing what any person told them to do.”

            “You forgot the ogre,” Michaela pointed out quietly in case the ogre overheard.

            “The ogre!”  Mickey shouted and Michaela turned red.  “How could I forget the ogre?  It is all too amazing, I tell you.  Amazing!”

            Moira called for an early lunch in the hope that Mickey would take a break to fill his mouth with some food.  Mother got down and disappeared behind a tree.  Moira thought nothing of it until Ellean spoke sharply.

            “Quiet.  I hear something.”  Everyone got still and quiet for a few seconds before Macreedy spoke.

            “I hear it too.”

            “I’ve been hearing it for some time,” Ignatius put in.  “I did not say anything though because I didn’t want to worry anyone.”

            Moira looked at Michaela.  Her grandmother had explained something of the gift that this strictly mortal woman had but it did not make much sense until she began to see it in action.  Michaela looked full of hope and she looked into the trees as if she saw something no one else could see.

            “It sounds like a hammer.”

            “A very little hammer, like a tinker’s hammer.”

            “But not on tin or any metal, I think.

            “Hard to tell.”  Ignatius looked up.  “It stopped.”

            “I never heard it,” Mickey admitted.  Moira did not either, but she looked at Pumpkin and Pumpkin’s eyes looked very big for such a little fairy.

            After a minute, Mother came strolling back from the woods as if she did not have a care in the world.  She was followed by a little man who could not have been much over two feet tall.  The man had a carpet bag in his hand and came to a sudden halt as Mother settled down at Moira’s feet.  He dropped the bag which made a great thud on the hard ground as he stared for a minute at the collection of faces.

            “Sure an’ that will be enough of that.”  The little man muttered, picked up his bag and turned.

            “Hold it right there.”  Moira shouted.  Michaela looked at her, pleading in her eyes that she not let the little man get away.  The little man ignored Moira for two steps before his feet stuck fast to the turf, glued to the ground.

            “Hey!”  The man protested, but he was not going anywhere.  He mumbled over his feet, but it did not help.  He tried some golden dust, but it still did not help.  Finally, he tried his most forlorn face and pointed it in Moira’s direction and on any mortal it would have been effective, but Moira was fuming at the moment so she hardly noticed.

            “Your name?”  Moira asked, but it sounded like a command.  The little man was shaken by Moira’s tone and immediately began to spout.

            “Mickey O’Casey O’Riley O’Toole, Seanessy Hennesy Kerry O’—“

            “—O’Fool.”  Moira interrupted.  She figure it out.  “Mickey, this is your father.  Michaela, this is the other half.  Little man, this is your son and he wants to get married, so be nice, and after that you better get in line.”

            “My little Mickey wants to marry?  Where has the time gone?  Sure an’ maybe someday there can be a grand-Mickey?”  The Leprechaun, which he was, found his feet move easily in Mickey and Michaela’s direction, but Moira barely heard or noticed.  She picked up Mother the cat and wandered off into the woods where she could shout.

            “Grandmother!  Grandmother!”  There was no answer.  “I’m not a complete idiot.  I get it!” she twirled around once in case her grandmother decided to come from a different direction.  She let herself float up above the tree tops for a good look around.  “Grandmother!”  That was where Pumpkin found her.

            “Lady.  I don’t think the cat likes to be up so high.”  Mother’s face stuck out of the opening in Moira’s jacket and looked down at the ground as if trying to figure out if she could jump and survive the fall.  Moira brought them quickly back to earth where the cat scrambled free and raced back to the others.  Moira put her hand to her face.

            “What’s wrong?”  Pumpkin fluttered slowly back and forth like a pendulum.  She felt Moira’s upset and was worried.

            “So the evil Brannigan reunited with his evil mother.  Now Mickey senior and Mickey junior get reunited.  Pumpkin, if we find your long, lost mother I am really going to be upset.”

            Pumpkin stopped moving.  She hovered and put her hands to her hips.  “I am sure your grandmother just wants you to know that you are not alone.  She loves her son and she loves you, too.  I can tell.  Fairies are very empathic, you know.”

            Moira’s jaw dropped just a little.

            “Besides.  I don’t think your grandmother is controlling the way things work out.  Everyone has to make their own decisions about that sort of thing, including you.  I think she just wants you to give your father a fair chance.  Maybe it won’t work out, but maybe it will.”  Pumpkin shrugged.

            Moira said nothing for a minute while a sly grin formed on her face.  “Get big,” she said at last.  Pumpkin complied but did not understand.  She was surprise when Moira hugged her.  “I think you are older than you act, sometimes.”

            “I know.”  Pumpkin pulled back and spoke in all seriousness.  “Sometimes I almost act mature.”  She made a face.  “Don’t tell the others.  Ignatius might start calling me human or something.”

            Moira indicate that her lips were closed, Pumpkin got little again and they returned to the others.  They started out right away and shortly came to the inn at Cavan.  Michaela roomed with Ellean and Moira.  They brought in a cot which Moira insisted on taking.  She knew she would not spend much time in the room, and while Michaela was still uncertain about being left in a room alone with an elf and a fairy, they were both very nice.  Besides, Ellean wanted to talk about Macreedy and Mickey who got a room with his father, and Michaela thought she could do that.

###

            Moira was ready when she was called to the cliff top with the crashing waves down below.  Her grandmother had two beach chairs set up with a little table between and an umbrella overhead.  Moira sat and waited, but finally she was the first to speak.

            “No lessons tonight?”

            Danna shook her head, but her mouth spoke differently.  “What would you learn?”

            “I don’t know, but it hardly seems as if I have learned much.  I mean, how much can we cover in two nights?”

            “Your father can teach you many things if you want to learn them,” Danna said.  “You met the Hibernians and see how people, when they hear about you, they may praise or blame you, regardless.  Anyway people, once touched, tend not to forget.  You have learned something about your blood and with Mister Brannigan and Madam Elizabeth you got a good idea of what it might mean to misuse it.  You have also learned what it means to have the Little Ones depend on you.  Like children sometimes, don’t you think?”

            “I’m not the motherly type.”  Moira still felt some anger from the afternoon.

            “Yes, but you gave Pumpkin a hug all on your own, and she almost sounded wise.”

            “I didn’t say I didn’t care about them.”

            “But that is all that matters in any relationship.”  Danna shifted the angle of the umbrella as the moon rose.  “Don’t want you to get moon burn.  You have plenty of freckles.  Just the right amount for your red hair an green eyes I would say.”

            “Grandma!  You’re as loony as your Little Ones.”

            “Sometimes.”

            They sat in the silence of the night and listened to the sea for a long while before Danna broke the silence again.   “You must never be afraid to ask.”

            “Will you tell me about my father?”

            “Not even his name.”  Danna shook her head.  “You must make up your own mind as Pumpkin said.  But I will tell you this.  I will love you, regardless.”

            Moira nodded.  She was glad to hear that.  She was surprised to think how important that was to her.  Danna was family, and Moira had no other family.  Not really.  She had an uncle who was a priest.  She had a crazy aunt in Dublin, and some equally crazy cousins.  She supposed they shunned her for the most part because she was a fatherless child. 

            Moira found herself in bed, one more comfortable than any cot ought to be.  She knew she needed sleep before the morning, but she could not sleep.  Not just yet.

###

            When the morning came, the troop followed elf routes again to Tara and arrived mid-afternoon.  The walk was mostly in silence except for yawns from the ogre and Pumpkin’s commentary that with all the feeding, Prickles would probably hibernate for the next six months or more.

            Moira saw him from a distance.  He just stood there, patiently waiting.  As she drew close, she saw the gray hair and was surprised once again.  She had not imagined a so-called god would have gray hair.  When she was twenty paces away, she stopped.  He made no move.  He might have tried to smile, but Moira thought he looked too nervous.  Still, he waited.  It was entirely up to her what she would do.  She knew what she would do.  She ran to him, threw her arms around him, and cried while he held her, smoothed her hair and said between his own tears, “Hush.  Everything will be alright.”

            Danna gave up the cat form, not that anyone was surprised.  She turned to her little ones.  “Take care of her.  Take care of them both, and guard the way to Tara.  This is the work you must all do.”  Then she vanished and reappeared on the University grounds in America. 

            She did not immediately trade places with Glen because she knew he would forget everything that happened, and for the moment she needed to retain her senses.  After a time with her mind half a world away, she was satisfied that they would work everything out.  “Okay,” she said it out loud before she went away and Glen came back into his own time and place. 

            Glen wondered briefly what he was doing in the woods.  He seemed to recall something about walking with Sandra, but he was not sure.  He was not sure of anything at the moment.  He felt very confused.

            He walked slowly back to his room, a single room with only a communal bathroom to remind him he was living in a dorm.  He thought about the chapters he needed to read, but turned first to that bathroom.  He found Sandra there, fresh from the shower, wrapped in a towel.  He was startled.  Apparently she was visiting some other guy in the dorm.

            “Glen.”  Sandra was equally startled.  Her heart broke to see the look in Glen’s eyes as he slowly turned and walked away.

##########

NOTE: To read this story from the beginning or to read any of the stories of the Traveler please click the tab “Traveler Tales” above.  You can read the stories on the right independently, or just the Vordan story on the left, or the whole work in order as written.  Your choice.  Enjoy. 

–Michael.

            “Weren’t you supposed to stay inside tonight?”  Moira asked, and she frowned, but only to keep from bursting out laughing for love of every one of the knuckleheads.

            Pumpkin quickly hid behind Ellean.  Prickles looked at his feet while Ignatius slapped him on the arm, not to say the ogre felt it.  “Yeah, you big dummy.  And just look at the mess you made.  Broken glass everywhere.”

            “Hey!”  Macreedy stepped up.  “Quit picking on the big guy.  He can’t help it.”

            “Oh, so now you’re the big defender?”

            Ellean pushed between the two.  “Stop it, this isn’t helping.”

            Pumpkin, now exposed, fluttered up to Mickey.  “Hi, my name is Pumpkin.”

            “I’m no defender.”  Macreedy turned red.  “You’re just deflecting your own disobedience on him because he just isn’t the sharpest knife.”

            “He isn’t even the sharpest spoon.”

            “Cut it out…”  Ellean pushed them both to separate them

            “Do you have a name?”

            “er, Mickey.”

            “Well, er, Mickey…”

            “Sorry about the window.”  Prickles finally caught up with the first thing that was said just before Moira shouted.

            “Quiet!”  She turned back to Mister Brannigan who did not believe what he was seeing, and who was apparently seeing more than just the glamour of humanity that surrounded the others.  Moira could not tell exactly what Mickey saw other than the fairy who zipped to Moira’s shoulder as soon as she shouted.  “Now, Mister Brannigan.”  Moira started to speak, but then she was not certain what she wanted to say, exactly.  She felt some pride in all she accomplished.  She used her powers, such as they were, and most were things that her grandmother never taught her, or not exactly.  She decided the only reason she got caught by the man’s first salvo was because it came so unexpectedly.  And the only reason she was afraid of the man was because she had never faced such power before.  And the only reason he surprised her with the cloud and managed to hover above her was because he had practical experience at this sort of confrontation which she did not.  Only now what was she going to do with the man?  Those were the exact words she heard behind her.

            “Now, what are you going to do with him?”

            Danna came up alongside Moira and Michaela ran to Mickey and hugged him like she was afraid she might lose him, or lose herself, and like maybe she would not mind being lost if only they could be lost together.  Moira turned to Danna and asked a simple question.  “Is there something you can do?”  The Little ones, meanwhile, were exceptionally quiet and rather tried to pretend they were not even there, except for Prickles, who would have been impossible to be inconspicuous and who had forgotten that he was out after hours in any case.

            “Do you want me to do something?”  Danna asked while she reached out and hugged her granddaughter.

            Moira responded, more willingly than ever.  “Please,” she said.

            “Alright.”  Danna reached out her hand.  “Let me see Mary.”

            “Mary?  Oh, yes.”  Moira reached into the purse which was still on her shoulder, opposite the fairy.  She pulled out the rock and handed it over, not knowing what to think.  Danna stepped apart from them all and rapped her knuckles on the rock three times.  There was smoke that came from the rock, and it slowly formed into the figure of an older woman, not as old as Madam Elizabeth, but nearly so.  The woman stretched as if confined in a tight space for a very long time, which she was, and then Mister Brannigan said something that should have been no surprise to those around him.

            “Mother?”

            “Brian?”  The Djin obviously knew the man.  “How did I get back in Ireland?”  She turned once in a circle and stopped to face Danna.  “And don’t call me Mary!”

            “Your chosen name.”  Danna smiled and waved her hand.  Moira’s bubble around Mister Brannigan melted and the man turned to the Djin with some pleading in his voice.

            “Mother.”  He repeated himself.  “Get me out of this.”

            The Djin paused and looked at her son.  She shook her head.  “There is no getting out of this.”  She pointed at Danna.  “I have a bad feeling about this, and I don’t mean a good-bad feeling.”

            “Why?”  Mister Brannigan protested.  “Who is this woman?”

            “THE goddess,” the Djin answered.

            “What?”

            “Hush,” Danna said, and the man could no longer speak or move.  There was no magic involved, no bubble, no sign of light, like his pink magic or Moira’s magic like the sun, or even the Djin’s darkness, there was no magic of any discernable kind at all and yet the man could neither move nor talk, though he could still see and hear and understand.  “Now, Mary, you have a choice.”

            The Djin squinted her eyes tight as if she expected Danna’s words to hurt in some way.  “Go ahead.  I figured the rock was only temporary.”

            “Not at all,” Danna said with a smile.  “It can be permanent if you like.  I think you will make a fine door knocker, and a real discouragement to anyone not welcomed in the halls of Tara.”

            “Where’s the choice?”

            “Well.”  Danna paused, dramatically.  “I could let you take your son home, but of course you and he would have to become fully human.  He has certainly tortured his neighbors enough for one lifetime.  Then again, he has amassed a bit of a fortune so you would not suffer any want in the rest of your days, but the choice is yours.”

            “Mother?”

            “Hush.  I’m thinking about it.”

            “Mother!  And what becomes of me if you decide to be a door knocker?”

            Danna said nothing..

            “I suppose we will have to go to church,” the Djinn said.

            “Oh, the way you like to torture people.  You will make a great church lady,” Danna said in a voice that suggested it should be no hardship.

            “And my son will have to get a job?”

            “Certainly he will want to do something, don’t you think?”

            “Something awful that he will hate?”

            “Mother!”  Now Mister Brannigan was really objecting, but Danna merely shrugged.

            “Alright, you convinced me,” the Djin said.  “It isn’t safe for me out here anymore with you hanging around and it beats being in that crampy old rock.”  The woman stretched.  Danna clapped her hands.  Apparently that was all there was to it.

            “Take good care of him, Mary,” Danna said, and she waved in her way and both the former Djin and her formerly half-Djin son vanished.

            “You don’t mess around,” Moira said.  “Did you know that was going to happen in advance?”

            “Not really.”  Danna spoke honestly enough.  “But if you hang around Little ones long enough you will discover that those sort of coincidences seem to come up all the time.”  Danna turned to the Little Ones and they shied away as if not paying attention.  “Go to bed,” she said and waved her hand, and the Little Ones all vanished to appear again in their rooms and in their beds.  Then she turned to Mickey and Michaela who were still holding tight to each other.  “Aren’t they a nice couple?”

            “She kind of towers over him.”  Moira pointed out the obvious.

            “Details.”  Danna dismissed Moira’s thought.  “Well?”

            “Well what?”  Mickey found his voice.

            “Go home and pack.  Both of you.  You and Moira and her friends have a long journey tomorrow.  And bring the money from the poker game.  That should be enough to get you a fine cottage.”

            “But we’re not married.”  Michaela pointed at herself and Mickey but did not let go.

            “Details,” Danna said, and she and Moira vanished from that place to appear on their hill top by the cliffs and the sea.