Captain Hawk came around in the evening to find Mister Madison recovered from his hypnotic-like trance and Abu in the cell with them.

            “Captain Hawk,” Abu looked like he was full of information, but Captain Hawk made him wait while he rubbed his forehead and his stiff neck.  When he was ready, Captain Hawk took the lead.

            “Professor Romer was supper.  Officer Simpson is the inside man working with Madam Goldman and we are designated for tomorrow to be breakfast, lunch and dinner.  Did I forget anything?”

            Madison looked up once at the Captain before he dropped his eyes again to the floor.  He sat in the corner, brooding and depressed.  Abu slowly reached out one finger and poked the Captain before he spoke.

            “You don’t look like a ghost,” he said and then he thought to explain.  “The only reference of a ship called the Golden Hawk from Amsterdam was a Privateer chartered by the Queen of England in 1530.  The Captain’s name was Peter Van Dyke.”

            “Aye.  That would be me.  But we had another name for the ship in the Caribbean when we raised the skull and crossbones.  The Flying Dutchman.”

            “Please!”  Madison shouted.  “Please just stop it.  This is serious.  We have to get out of here and kill that worm thing before it eats us, or anyone else.”

            “Quite right.”  Captain Hawk stood but had to be careful not to hit his head.  “I bet this cage had a monkey in it originally.  Well, no matter.  I will forego tradition this time.  I won’t make you take my hands, but you have to promise not to scream when you see what happens next.  And no, Abu, I am not a ghost and neither is she so please don’t scream.”

            “She?”  Abu asked.

            Captain Hawk nodded and disappeared to be replaced, not by Althea, but a different woman.  Madison screamed.  Abu lowered his eyes and trembled.  This was a woman of the sea—THE woman of the sea.  Abu had been at sea for most of his life and had dreamed about her.  Most sailors had.

            “I must go.”  The woman said in a voice as sweet as the sweetest water.  “I cannot tell you where or why, but I will be back by dawn.  Perhaps we can see the sunrise together.”  With that word she vanished altogether from that place and left a soft spray of sea water where she had stood.  When she appeared in front of Glen’s door, she felt very bad.  Poor Glen was really going to get it.

            “I met a friend,” Glen told his parents.  “His name is Abu and the ship’s officer, Mister Madison promised if we met him at sunrise he would give us a tour of the ship.  Oh, please, please.”  Glen’s half-lie came with the biggest, most pleading eyes he could muster.  That did not soften the yelling, but when Glen’s mom took him for a late night supper and found out the really was an officer Madison, she said no more.

            Glen did not sleep much.  The Hawk spent most of the day in Glen’s place and he might need the sleep.  Being knocked out really didn’t count.  But Glen had rested and in a real sense slept all day.  He was not tired.  All the same, he did fall asleep around four but then he only got about an hour’s nap. 

            He woke up when the ship began to sway, dangerously.  He thought at first that they must have come across a storm or some very rough water, but then he heard a faint “Thump” from below and he sat straight up.

            “No,’ Glen said.  “It can’t be.”  He slipped out of bed, slipped into his shorts and pulled over his shirt as quietly as he could.  He nearly fell twice from the hard sways of the boat, but managed his shoes before his father woke.  He heard his name.  He would pay for his actions, but he raced out the door with the words, “I’m late.”

            One accidental bump into the night steward and he reached the stairs.  Seven steps up and he figured he was safe.  He vanished and that woman—the Lady of the Sea returned, and instantly she was back in the cage.  The list of the ship and the great angled sways were very apparent down in the hold.  Both men in the cage were rousing and Abu looked ready to get sick.

            The Lady sensed no one around but knew Madam Goldman and Officer Simpson were on the way, as fast as they could move in the rough water.  The Lady broke the lock on the cage.  Then she expanded the bars just a little so they would stick and make it look like the cage was still locked tight.  When Captain Hawk returned, he woke the others, fully.

            Abu got wide awake without a word as he swallowed the bile that built up in his mouth.  He stared at the Captain for a long time.  Mister Madison was a bit of a bumbler in the morning.  “What?  What?”  He rubbed his eyes before it looked like the excessive swaying was going to make him sick as well.

            “Breakfast,” Captain Hawk teased.  “Let us hope it isn’t us.”  That woke the man.  By the time Simpson and the Madam came stumbling in, trying to remain upright, all three men were standing, holding the bars of the cage, waiting for them.

            “My, we are early risers.”  The woman grabbed a bar on the water tank to steady herself.  She sounded as smug and self-assured as ever, but when she saw the cutlass was back in Captain Hawk’s hand and the knife was back securely on his hip, she did pause.  Captain Hawk noticed and responded.

            “Like Thor’s hammer,” he said.  “My weapons always seem to find a way back into my hand.”

            “So I see.”  Madam Goldman was clearly impressed.  Simpson fingered his jacket pocket where he likely had the pistol, but he did not pull it out.

            “Madam Goldman.”  Captain Hawk came straight to the point because he knew how little time they actually had.  “For the third and final time I must ask you, how you came by your pet.  I know there is no amount of magical art on your part that could have pulled the worm from its mother’s mouth.  This is a chance I am giving you to reveal the culprit so they may bear the burden for this illegal act.”

            Madam Goldman was still in pause mode, but the smile slowly came to her face.  “You do not wish to know.  Believe me.  You are as nothing to me and to my art.  To him you would be less than nothing.  You would probably find your bowels loosed just to see him.”

            “A most delicate suggestion,” Captain Hawk mocked her.  “But you have had your chance and you have been warned.”  He shoved open the door to the cage and advanced on the woman, the ship having settled down for the moment.  Simpson went for his gun, but Captain Hawk’s long knife came away from his hip and sunk deep into Simpson’s shoulder.  It sent the sailor to his knees.  The gun clattered across the floor when he dropped it and with the next big wave it slid under the nearest car.

            Madam Goldman raised her cane with the diamond top.  “I had hoped to find your secret and turn you to my service, but I see that will not be.”  With that, she let out some of that purple lightning but by then Captain Hawk had gone away and finally let Althea take a turn.  She came dressed in the armor and weapons she lived in when she sailed to the far east end of the Black Sea with Jason and the other Argonauts, and she brushed aside Madam Goldman’s purple lightning like one might brush aside a fly, not even breaking her stride.

            Althea caught the woman with a force of her own and levitated the woman right off the ground.  Althea levitated a little as well to keep herself steady since the ship was starting to sway violently again.  “I kicked fat butt Madea’s fat butt.  In your own words, you are nothing.”  With no sign of effort, she tossed Madam Goldman to slam into a tarp covered pile of crates.  That would have hurt a strong young man.  It had to hurt the old woman.

            “Now, I want to know who helped you bring the worm here.  Now!”  For the moment, the old woman could only groan.  Simpson could only moan and cry, hold his shoulder and try not to bleed to death.  The two men in the cage were talking quietly to each other, but everyone became stone silent when they heard a loud BANG! on the outside hull.  It was followed by a moan that started out low and rose up the scale like whale song but deeper, richer, larger. 

            “What the Hell is that?”  Madison shouted.

            “Mama.”  Althea answered and she saw the worm in the tank was becoming very agitated.

            “Will you gentlemen please step into the cage.”  Madam Goldman was polite about it.  Mister  Madison went right in, but Captain Hawk stalled.  He looked around the hold, a room below the water line that came up against the hull.  It was large enough to hold a number of cars, a couple of trucks and an enormous water tank that held an enormous sleeping worm.

            “I don’t think so.”  Captain Hawk said at last, and as he spoke his cutlass vacated the Traveler’s Avalon home and appeared in his hand.  “I think instead it is time for some answers.”

            “Oh, very good, Captain.”  Madam Goldman was not dismayed to see that Captain Hawk had broken her spell.  She was smug.  “But you have no idea what you are dealing with.”

            “But that is what I am asking.”  Captain Hawk nodded his head toward the tank as he stepped closer to the woman.  “How did you come by your pet?  I happen to know they are extinct on this Earth and only to be found in the eternal sea of the Second Heavens.  They frolic among the innumerable isles, you see, and since there is no way on this blessed earth you could have found your way there, I have to assume you had help to bring the worm here.”

            “Oh, you are so very clever.”  The Madam genuinely smiled for him even as he threatened her.  Some of that purple light escaped her hands and cane and seeped into the water tank.  The worm came awake and immediately pushed up a cut-away section of the tank top.  Captain Hawk took a step back and could hardly be blamed, but the woman had a cloth in her hand and as the worm came to her, she put the cloth on the floor.  The worm curled several times around the cloth like a constrictor might curl around its prey before it opened its maw and licked it up.  Once the cloth was ingested, the worm straightened and took off for a dark corner of the hold at remarkable speed.

            “Professor Romer,” the woman said.  “A pity.  Now I will need to find another.”

            “Another fool to display your beast?”

            Madam Goldman smiled again.  “I shall be the richest woman in history.  Captain Hawk shook his head and lowered his cutlass.  “What?” she asked.

            “This one is what, eight, maybe ten feet?”  He had revised his estimate on closer examination.  “It should still be in its mother’s gullet and only venturing out briefly to test the waters.  They don’t go out on their own until they are eighteen feet or more.  It is too young to be separated.”

            “But you must get them young.”  Madam Goldman countered.  “Think of all the tricks I can teach it, tricks it will perform when it reaches full size.”  Captain Hawk shook his head again so the woman stopped to listen.

            “They don’t have a full size.  They never stop growing.  They do seem clever when they are young and small, but it is a survival mechanism, like the ability to spend time out of the water and escape across dry ground.  But their brains don’t grow, you see.  The bigger they get, the more and more brain space is needed just to maintain movement and to feed.  The bigger they get the stupider they get until at last they get so big their little brains can’t handle it and they quit.  They die of stupidity, you might say.”

            “Mister Simpson.”  Madam Goldman interrupted by looking over Captain Hawk’s shoulder.  The Captain knew there was a man behind him from the footsteps.  He did not know it was one of the ship’s officers.  He felt he should have guessed, though, and he certainly was not surprised to turn and see a gun in the man’s hand.  He turned again toward Madam Goldman in time to see her purple light; only this time it was not just light.  It was purple lightening and it stuck him like 220 volts.  All he could do was shake until his eyes rolled up in his head and he collapsed to the floor.  Even so, he was not quite unconscious.  He heard the madam and the officer step up to meet over his limp body. 

            “Let me come through!”  Althea screamed at the Captain in his head.  He had to quiet her to listen.

            “This one sounds dangerous,” the officer said.

            “He knows things,” the Madam responded.  “Put him in the cage with the other.  I will have to question him again to find out how he knows things.”

            “But that may be dangerous.”

            “Mister Simpson, I think I can handle one skinny man who thinks he is a pirate.”

            Captain Hawk took a deep breath as he was dragged and locked into the cage with Madison.  So he would be questioned.  He would not be immediate worm snack.  That was good because at the moment he thought it best to go unconscious.

            Glen was in trouble for being late to the room.  He did not eat much dinner and he did not sleep well, either.  When he woke up in the morning, he did not remember a thing until he sat down for breakfast.  He lost his appetite thinking about it.

            Once he got free of the family, he went straight to find Second Mate Madison and his helper, Abu Hassan.  They were assigned to find the culprit, though Captain Hawk, as he was called,  thought Madison was a bit of a fool and poor Abu, the one with the brains, was afraid to be anything other than a yes-man.

            “You are Captain Hawk because of your ship the Golden Hawk?”  Abu asked.

            “In part.”  The Captain answered.  “But consider my face.”  He turned to show his profile and pointed out the way his nose stuck out from his eyes before it fell to his lips.  It did appear a bit like a beak.  His skinny features overall also gave his face something of a bird-like appearance, but there was no mistaking that this was a bird of prey.

            “So, I was thinking about what you said, yesterday.  You have seen these worms before?  May I ask where?”  Madison sat behind his desk.  It was clearly the only place he felt comfortable.

            Captain Hawk was not about to be interviewed by a bureaucrat.  He shoved some things to the side and rested his hip up on the desk corner while he left one foot on the ground.  “Best to not go into that.  But for all of our sakes I pray it is only one.  Have you been through the manifest yet?”  He looked over the papers on the desk and craned his neck as if trying to read them.  Officer Madison covered them with his arms and hunched over them like a school boy who was afraid of having his paper copied.  Abu interrupted.  He was good at knowing when to change the subject.

            “What kind of a worm can eat through steel?”

            “A sea worm, technically.”  The Captain answered and got up from the desk to plant himself in a nearby chair.  His point with Madison was made.  “It is a very rare sea creature with a limited ability to come ashore when it is young.  Call it sort of an amphibian in reverse.  Anyway, it should be extinct, at least on this Earth.”  He mumbled the last part, but Abu caught it.

            “And you figure someone brought it on board, but it escaped its cage?”  Abu summarized.  The Captain nodded and Abu handed him a very thick clipboard.  “The passenger list.”

            “Abu?”

            “Mister Madison.  We are getting nowhere.  If this man knows something.”  He apologized and did everything short of bow.

            Madison stared before he shrugged.

            “Who is this Professor Romer?  It says marine biologist.”  Captain Hawk looked at the two men like they should have seen this right away.

            “We did not know it was a sea worm until you told us,” Abu said.  He shrugged and they looked at Madison who shuffled some of the papers on his desk. 

            “There is nothing in the hold with Professor Romer’s name on it,” he declared.

            “Look for a company name, maybe a zoo or aquarium,” Captain Hawk suggested just before they were interrupted.  Two sailors came in and looked twice at Captain Hawk before one spoke.

            “Excuse me Mister Madison, sir.  They found another one.”

            “The worm had breakfast.”  Captain Hawk spoke up.

            “Yes sir.”  The sailor did not know what to say, exactly.  “But this one was a child.”

            “Then we better go see this Romer right away.”  Captain Hawk said, and he started toward the door.  He turned when he got there.  “You coming?”

            Abu looked at Madison.  Madison got up, unhappy about something, but they followed.

###

            “Professor Romer?”  Captain Hawk let Madison take the lead, but mostly so he could look around the room and be nosy, and partly so he could glare at the man over Madison’s shoulder.

            “What is it?  I’m very busy.”  The Professor looked down at his hands rather than up into that frightening Hawk-like face.

            “Just a couple of quick questions, if you don’t mind.”  Madison spoke from the doorway and he would have been most polite about it, but Captain Hawk spied a letter on the desk of that small cabin.  It was from the Philadelphia Aquarium.  He pushed forward into the room.

            “Your sea worm has gotten free.”  Captain Hawk accused the Professor.  He spoke loudly, right over the man’s protests.  He pulled out his long knife which quieted the Professor, but he only used it as a pointer.  “Too bad we can’t try a sea worm for murder.  Philadelphia Aquarium?”  He tapped the letter on the desk.  It said the Aquarium closed last year due to lack of funding, but the board would consider reopening if Professor Romer could deliver the promised specimen. 

            The Professor, an elderly man broke instantly.  “It’s not my fault.  It’s that old woman, Madam Goldman.  She let the beast out.  I never thought…”  The man began to whimper before he stiffened his lip.  “No.  I won’t tell you.  That creature is one of a kind and I will not risk having it damaged by a bunch of frightened sailors.”

            “You and you.”  Captain Hawk pointed at the two sailors who followed them to the cabin.  “Take this man to the brig for further questioning.”

            “Sir.”  The sailors responded to the tone of a ship’s Captain and one gave a slight salute.  They never even glanced at their own officer, Mister Madison.  They hauled the Professor off while Abu asked his next question.

            “We go see this Madam Goldman?”

            “Madison and I,” Captain Hawk answered.  “You need to go back to the office and check the manifests for the hold.  Philadelphia Aquarium and Goldman.”  Abu looked disappointed, but nodded his agreement.  “Don’t worry, Abu.”  Captain Hawk let out his wicked smile.  “I’ll fill you in so you don’t miss anything.”

###

            “Now, you let me take the lead here.”  Madison tried to sound firm.  “ I appreciate your help in this matter, but as an officer of the ship I will be the one to face the heat if we accuse an innocent passenger.”

            Captain Hawk merely tipped his head in response.  He would have tipped his hat, but he left that with his cutlass.  The hat would have made him look too much like the man out of time that he was.

            “Gentlemen.”  The older woman stood with a cane and took an attitude that was completely different from the Professor’s.  “You have come about my pet.  Come in.  I have been expecting you.”

            “Your pet?  I’m afraid I don’t follow.”  Madison let his stupidity show.  The woman ignored him as she looked over the handsome Captain.  “Skinny, but rugged,” she pronounced and she squeezed one of the Captain’s arms to test the muscle.

            “I am glad my lady is pleased.”  Captain Hawk bowed graciously.

            “And you play the part so well,” the woman said.  “Is there a costume party I was not told about?”

            “Alas, no,” Captain Hawk responded.  “I am as you see me.  But let me ask your indulgence.  How did you come by your pet?”

            “A good question,” the woman said.  She backed away to sit and rest on the end of the couch.  This was a first class, luxury cabin with real furniture, far larger than the Professor’s little closet.  “It was by my own art that I coaxed him out of his natural habitat and into my keeping, precious beast that he is.”

            “But you haven’t kept it,” Madison burst out.  “The thing has escaped and it is eating the passengers.”

            “On the contrary, Mister Madison.”  Captain Hawk followed his instincts.  “She has been feeding it.”

            “Very Perceptive.”  The woman was honestly impressed.  She looked again at the skinny man and he bowed once more and introduced himself.

            “Captain Peter VanDyke, Captain of the Golden Hawk out of Amsterdam.  Most people simply call me Captain Hawk.  It is a name I can hardly deny, given my profile.”  He turned his head for the woman.

            “A bird of prey?”

            “One that looks to sink its talons into the great worm.”

            “Ah, but can you match the strength of a serpent?”

            “Your pardon, but it is not yet a serpent, young as it is.”

            “Very perceptive, indeed,” the woman said.  “Too perceptive.”  She touched the diamond knob of her cane and the room filled with a purple light.  It flashed and then wafted through the air like purple smoke before it dissipated.  Captain Hawk found himself still in control of his senses, but his will was sapped.  He had no ability to resist when she said, “Let us go to the hold.”

            “Let me at her.”  Althea shouted in the Captain’s head.  She spoke all the way through time from her life in the deep past.  “I’ll kick her butt!“

            “No,” the Captain interrupted, and in resisting Althea’s suggestion he knew the spell was already beginning to weaken on him even if Madison appeared to be completely under.  “Let us see where she takes us first.”  Althea agreed.

            It started as soon as the ship left port and more than one crew member was for turning back.  It was not just that a passenger had been murdered, it was the fact that they were half eaten and left in the kitchen, in the walk-in cooler, like they were being preserved for a late night snack.

            Glen, of course, knew none of this.  He was nine and liked the roll of the ship. 

            Big ships, like the SS Rotterdam did not have stabilizers in 1963 and plenty of people still got seasick, but Glen liked the waves and the smell of the sea.  They filled his senses day and night and that was good because there certainly was not much else to do.  About the only things this ship had for kids was some craft room where Glen could spend seven to ten days making a wallet worth throwing out as soon as he got home and the afternoon cartoon and Roy Rogers screamfest.  At supper where the men changed their afternoon suits for evening suits and the women changed their sun dresses for evening gowns, they played the Peppermint Twist and had a twist contests, but that was for the older folks, like all that Sinatra music.  Glen’s brother once asked them to play Neil Sedaka, but the crew did not know who that was.

            The SS Rotterdam left Amsterdam to cross the Atlantic in a week or so, and back then that was pretty good time.  Still, that meant Glen and his family and a couple hundred other families would be stuck together somewhere in the middle of the ocean with no possible means of escape.  True, Glen’s family could have flown, but flying was still rather exotic thinking back in 1963—there were no 747s.  So the family crossed the ocean (it was not a pond then) on a ship even as they crossed to Spain twelve months earlier on the SS Independence.

            That first evening at sea when a member of the crew went to wake up a passenger under a blanket on a lido deck lounger, he found another half-eaten body.  The Captain still did not turn back and no one quite understood why. 

            In the morning, Glen had breakfast and resigned himself to the bleak days and nights ahead.  His brother was eleven and a reader, so it wasn’t so bad for him.  His little sister was five which was young enough to be more easily entertained.  Besides, she did not leave mom and dad’s side whereas Glen was allowed some run of the ship.  After all, as long as he stayed away from the railing, where could a nine-year-old go?

            Glen despised shuffle board, not that he had anyone to play with.  He liked Roy Rogers well enough, but it seemed to him the ship was hardly the wide open plains.  At last he decided to play pirate, or rather he played the officer charged with finding and stopping the pirates from taking over the ship and stealing everyone’s money.  Back in those days, the movies that Glen got to watch still had white hats and black hats.  They did not confuse the good guys and the bad guys back in 1963.

            That morning, the crew found another body—this one was in the meat locker where the butchered beef for the trip was scrupulously untouched.  They were looking for the body, and one sailor even said whatever it was, it appeared to like breakfast and supper.  A second sailor said it appeared to like its meat fresh, but he did not say it too loud.

            That afternoon, just before Glen was due to return to the room to dress for dinner, he was chasing some invisible pirate down the deck and heard a scream.  There were several screams so he swerved to look into the lounge room.  He was in time to see a snake as thick as his body and some six or eight feet long slither into a round hole in the vent.  He also saw a man was missing his leg from the knee down and bleeding all over the carpet, but then some members of the crew showed up.  Three went running in and one blocked the lounge door and turned to speak.

            “Nothing to worry about, people.  The poor man is just having some heart trouble, that’s all.  The ship’s doctor is fully qualified and I am sure he will be back on his feet in no time.”  That was some quick thinking if a bit ironic.

            Glen looked up and the man looked down.  “You got worms,” Glen said softly.

            “Go on, kid.  Your parents want you.  Nothing to see here.”  The crowd headed off, no doubt to get ready for dinner and the evening festivities.

            Glen turned but walked off slowly while the voices talked in his head.  A few minutes later a man dressed in a white silk shirt with puffy sleeves, a tan leather vest that was almost a tunic, black pants and tan leather knee boots that matched the vest walked up to the lounge.  He had a wicked looking knife sheathed on his hip, but he left the cutlass home.  When he entered the room, he found two crewmen examining the hole in the vent.  The bartender was looking, but stood back for safety sake.

            “You have worms,” the newcomer said.  He bent down to join the two at the hole.  Both men looked, but did not say anything at first because of how the newcomer was dressed and the fact that he said “You got worms” in Dutch and in English.  “Peter VanDyke, Captain of the Golden Hawk out of Amsterdam.”  The stranger introduced himself.  “And I said you’ve got worms.  I’ve seen this before and these are very hard to get rid of.”

            “Worms?”

            “Aye, six or eight feet long and able to chew through steel.”  He tapped the vent.  “So how many dead, chewed-up bodies so far?”  He asked.

            Alice stepped up beside Glen to watch the fighter touch the clouds.  “I feel like part of me is up there now.  That was not fair, you know.”  Glen said nothing.  “I must say, he did not seem so scary this time, even before you transferred the language and all.”

            “He wasn’t shooting at you.”  This time Alice simply nodded.  “So what were you going to say about Althea?” he asked.

            “I revised my estimate.”

            “Spit it out.”

            “Okay.”  Alice appeared to choose her words carefully.  “It is the first time I have seen you as a woman who is not drop dead gorgeous.  She seemed so normal.”

            Glen laughed a little.  “She used to hang out with a fellow named Herakles.  Some of the gods worried about him so they gave her all sorts of gifts to help protect him.”  That was all Glen was going to say at first, but then he changed his mind and added, “She also went sailing with a fellow named Jason.”  Alice did not get the reference.  “The Golden fleece?”  Alice frowned.  “Hey, it was my ship, or my father’s anyway.”

            “Why is everything with you so hard to believe?”

            Glen shrugged.  “It isn’t, really.  I’m the one who is hard to swallow.  I know because all sorts of monsters, creatures and things have tried.”  He paused to look for a reaction but Alice was serious.  “Really, though, after you meet me, the rest sort of falls into place.  I mean, it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours and you have already been introduced to a secret international organization, you have not only seen a real-live space alien, but you just got his language and culture implanted in your brain, and by magic no less.  You have had contact with a real-live fairy, and an elf and have at least heard about the gods and such things.”

            “I know all that.  You’re not helping.”

            Glen understood.  “It is a lot to process.  Just imagine how much I have to process.”  He rolled his eyes and looked up.

            “I’m beginning to understand that.”  Alice sounded sympathetic.

            “Think of it this way.”  Fyodor interrupted.  He had stepped up to one side while Sergeant Thomas took the other.  “Everything that you once imagined might be possible, like life on other planets is true.”  Alice nodded.  “Then everything you always thought of as an impossible fantasy is probably also true.”

            “What do you mean probably?”

            “There are some things I haven’t asked about.”

            Alice nodded again as they all turned to go back up to the main building.  The limos were already there and waiting.  Poor Bobbi had to ride with Colonel Veber, but Fyodor volunteered to join her, he said, to deflect the worst of it.  Miriam went to keep her company as well.  Doctor Roberts and Mirowen snuck back down to the barn with the escape pod.  That left Glen, Lockhart, Alice, Boston, Pumpkin and Sergeant Thomas to ride together but there was an argument first.

            “Get big,” Glen said to Pumpkin.

            “No.  Not yet.  Please.”  Pumpkin sounded more like a teenager than she did someone who was more than five hundred years old.

            “If you want to go with us to the White House, you have to get big and you have to stay big the whole time.”  Glen was firm.  The fairy fretted and clicked her tongue as she flitted back and forth.  She flew up to face Boston and Lockhart, then Alice, then Bobbi and Fyodor and then flew back to Glen where she continued to flit back and forth like a pendulum. 

            Finally, Pumpkin came to rest and with a surprisingly pleasant voice she said, “Okay, that should be fun.”  She seemed to vanish for a second and reappeared as a full grown woman without the least sign of wings.  She looked remarkably human except for her beauty, which Alice noted.  She was not a beauty like Alice’s namesake, Alice of Avalon who had a look that belonged on magazine covers and where designers might come to physical blows to get her on their runway.  She was also not a beauty like the Princess who had an attractive quality that exuded her sexuality.  Alice imagined the Princess would draw men to her like flies to flypaper.  No.  Pumpkin big was beautiful in a way that could only be called inhuman.  It was a little hard to focus and take it all in.

            “Shall we go?”  Pumpkin asked.  At least her voice sounded the same.

            As soon as they were rolling, Glen pulled the red ball out of his pocket—the one he took from the escape pod and briefly plugged into the Vordan communicator.  He had made everyone wait while he got himself a laptop and now he plugged the ball into the computer.

            “Internet card.”  Glen stuck out his hand and Lockhart handed him what looked like a credit card.

            “Free world-wide internet.”  Lockhart explained for Alice.

            “Why do you need the internet?”  Alice asked.

            “Google Galaxy.”

            “Google Earth?  Look, what is that thing, some way to pinpoint the Vordan location?  I saw you take it from the Humanoid ship.”

            “No.  I already got the location of the Vordan by a different bit of Humanoid technology.  This is caller I. D.  Same principle anyway.  I figure the Vordan will have a decision to make.  I am hoping they will call whoever brought them here to get instructions before they attack.”

            “Attack?”  It was Boston who reacted out loud.

            Glen looked up and was a bit surprised by the strength of the reaction.  “Oh, I’m not worried about the Vordan.  I want to know how they got here.  Someone helped them and it is a bit disturbing having no idea who that someone might be.”  As Alice said earlier, that did not help.  “Maybe a story would be in order,” he decided.  They had a journey to get to the White House.

            The Vordan was cuffed but did not look uncooperative.  Alice, Mirowen, Emile and Fyodor pushed up close to see.  Sergeant Thomas fingered his holster.  Finally, Glen had to tell everyone to take two giant steps back.

            “Not you Miss Summers.”  He took Alice’s hand to keep her at his side.  “Time to change,”  He simply said it and went away from there.  A woman appeared.  She was no looker, with ordinary brown hair and light brown eyes.  She stood about five-five and in every way looked like just any normal woman.  Alice gasped.

            “What is it?” The woman asked.  Her words were colored by some kind of heavy accent.

            Alice wanted to say something, but shook her head.  “Nothing.  No, nothing.”

            The woman turned to the Vordan, adjusted something on the choker she wore around her neck, and spoke.  “My name is  Althea.  Are you understanding me?  The Vordan nodded.  “Good.  I am the Traveler, the Kairos, the god of history and defender of this world.  Do you understand this?”  The Vordan certainly understood something because it dropped its eyes.  “I have three things I must do at present, and the first is I must have your hand.”  Althea made a bit of a show by waving her hand and snapping her finger.  The cuffs popped off the Vordan and fell to the grass.  Althea held her hand out.  The Vordan obviously considered its options before it slowly put its hand in hers.

            “Alice.”  Althea asked for a hand from her as well and when she gave it Althea lit up with a bright golden light like a woman on fire.  She glowed while the light passed from her or through her up and down both Alice’s and the Vordan’s arms.  When Althea let go, the light vanished and Alice and the Vordan both collapsed.

            “They are fine,” Althea insisted.  “Fyodor and Sergeant Thomas, would you be good enough to fetch the table and chair from the corner of the hut?”   Even as they left, both Alice and the Vordan began to come around.

            “I feel funny.”  The Vordan said.  It was a deep voice and still very gravely, but understandably English. 

            Alice could only say “Gluk, gurk, rock” and similar things until she tossed her hair back and looked up.  “What am I saying?”

            “Very good words.”  Althea made the pronouncement.  She lifted her hand and a box of stationary, envelopes and a fine cross pen appeared.  “Miss Summers, would you take a letter in your best handwriting?”

            “My handwriting isn’t very good.”  Alice got to her feet, but was wobbly.  The Vordan stayed on the ground and touched its lips.

            “Come, come.  You are a lawyer, not a doctor.”  Althea nudged the woman before she turned to the alien.  “May I help you up?”  Althea put a hand out to the Vordan.  It shook its head and scooted back on its rear a good yard.  Taking that hand was suddenly a very scary idea.  “Now I need your help so it was only a fair offer.”  Althea turned around while they brought out the table and chair for Alice.  She smiled for her elf, Mirowen.  “Later.”

            Mirowen curtsied as well as she could in her overalls—and it was remarkably graceful.  She mouthed the words, “My Lady,” while Althea went away and Glen came home.

            “So do your best,” Glen said, referring to the writing.  “Besides, I need this in Vordan.”

            “But I can’t write in Vordan—“  Alice paused and her eyes got big.  “Yes I can.  My God!  Do you know anyone who is French?  I could have used the help back in college.”

            “Ahem.”  Glen framed his thoughts.  “To his Imperial Admiral Gukky the Right Honorable Commander of the Seventh Spear Point Squadron of the Magnificent Vordan Empire.  From the Traveler in Time.  Peace to you.”

            “Glucky, not Gukky, and how did you know it was the Seventh Spear Point.”

            “A lucky guess,” Glen said in a way that made it clear there were some things he was not going to explain.  “In the future, the Vordan and Human races form an alliance of mutual support and mutual respect.  This alliance does much for the mutual benefit of both peoples.  Thus in this present crisis and in order to insure the good relations to come, it would be in both of our best interests to cease hostilities in a truce.  I will send you home, alive and with honor, but I ask that you wait patiently until I can arrive to discuss the matter in person.  Please accept the return of this valiant and now talented young soldier as a sign of good faith.  He did his duty well and told us nothing of your military disposition.  Until tomorrow afternoon, live well.”

            “The Vordan don’t tell time by the sun.”  Alice interjected and paused to focus on her thoughts.  “They are weird, but I have expressed it in a way so they will understand your timing.  Also, the traditional salutation is live well and die well.”  She paused before she answered her own thought.  “I guess you left the die well part off on purpose.”

            Glen took the letter with one comment.  “You have until tomorrow afternoon to find what we need in the treaty and get it translated into Vordan.” 

            Glen stepped over to the Vordan and signaled for the soldier to stand.  “The third thing I have to do is give this to you.  You need to take this to your commander.”  He pointed to the waiting Vordan fighter.

            “Why?”  The soldier asked in his guttural English.                      

            “Because I have made you too valuable to kill.  Because I mean what I say about wanting peace and sending you home.  Because suicide is for cowards.”

            The Vordan went to the ship, carefully.  He expected to be stopped at any moment.  He appeared surprised when he was actually allowed to get into the cockpit.

            “The weapons have been disabled.”  Glen shouted up to the cockpit.  “The self-destruct also.”  He waited for the Vordan to look in his direction before continuing.  “The coordinates have been programmed into the ship, and remember, I haven’t told you anything about our military disposition either.”

            The Vordan shook its head, whatever that meant.  “I will be courier,” it said and started the engine.  The cockpit closed, the ship lifted straight up before it headed off into the west.

            When Glen finished telling his story he stared at his plate and pushed around his pancakes with fake maple syrup.  He lost his appetite.  No one said a word until Pumpkin piped up.

            “That was Sooooo Scaaaary.”  The fairy covered her little eyes and looked terribly cute, but Glen was not in the mood for cute.

            “Act your age, Pumpkin,” he said.

            “I think you had to be there.”  Boston did not get it.  “What?”

            “I’ll be five hundred and fifty in a few weeks,” Pumpkin said with a hint of sadness in her voice.

            “Yeah, right.”  The word came from the other side of the table.  Colonel Weber did not believe a word the fairy said.  Sometimes that was the safest position to take with the Little Ones, but they resented being prejudged so Glen had to interject quickly.

            “Leave him alone,” he commanded.  He also pointed at Mirowen.  “You too.”

            “I’ll just have a sip from my bucket of milk instead,”  Pumpkin said.  She lifted the little juice glass and drank, but spilled some milk down her front. 

            “You Okay?”  Bobbi also sat across the table and got a good look at Glen’s face.

            “Do you have any idea how many people I have killed over the centuries—the millennia?”

            “It was a Wolv.”  Lockhart spoke softly because he really knew better.

            “Just because it is not human that doesn’t make it less of a person.”  Glen used his standard line.

            “Okay, so it was a bad person,” Bobbi suggested.

            “Still counts.”  Glen got up and walked to the window.

            Alice immediately started with the questions.  “So what happened to Miss Watson and the Calveris?”

            Bobbi took up the answer.  “Debbie Watson became Mrs. Wilson.  You met Willie on the plane.  Her grandson.”

            “But he’s…”  Alice caught her tongue.   

            “What?  Black like me?”  Bobbi teased.  “Debbie is white.  Mixed marriage.  Anyway, she retired last year and lives in Florida.  I talked to her last night when I took a much needed break.”

            “How’s Ben?”  Lockhart asked, but Alice wasn’t finished.

            “What do you mean retired?  You mean you made her come to work for you?”

            “We are strictly a voluntary organization,” Bobbi insisted.

            “It was cheaper than paying for years of therapy,” Lockhart interjected with a grin.

            Bobbi explained a little.  “She worked in Ancient cultures and Elder races.  She went to a bunch of archeological sites in her day.  Not to dig with the staff, mind you—“

            “—But to be sure what they dug up was safe for human consumption.”  Alice interrupted.  “I get it.”

            “But what about the Calveris?”  Boston was curious now.

            “Before my time.”  Bobbi looked at Lockhart.

            “Just months but before my time, too,” Lockhart said.  “I bet Mister Calveri still has the hole in his wall.  He probably has a frame around it and sells tickets.”

            “Ha, ha.”  Boston wasn’t laughing.

            “Will you two stop whispering!”  Colonel Weber interrupted.  He yelled at Emile and Mirowen like they were giving him indigestion.  They looked like they wanted to say something in response, but the big marine, Sergeant Thomas was between them and the Colonel and he was an intimidating sight even when he was just observing.

            Glen quickly stepped back to the table.  “So when will the limos get here?”  He changed the subject.

            “Noon.”  Boston answered.  “They were due at two but we pushed it up as far as we could.”

            “It’s ten forty-five now.  Doctor Roberts, Mirowen, let’s go look at the Vordan fighter they captured.”  Sergeant Thomas got up with them but signaled for the other marine, Miriam to stay with Lockhart. 

            “Wait up.”  Alice gulped her coffee while she grabbed her laptop and steno pad.  “Don’t you ever rest?”

            “No.”  Lockhart and Bobbi spoke together.

            “Take good notes.”  Boston hollered as Alice ran to catch up, and Alice waved without turning.

            Glen walked beside the marine.  There was something he needed to know.

            “Eating next to a full bird Colonel give you indigestion?”

            Sergeant Thomas nodded.  “Big time.”         

###

            The Vordan fighter-bomber was in a Quonset hut by the helipad.  There were several huts and Glen was glad Alice did not ask what was in them.

            “Sorry people.”  There were guards outside the bay doors—not marines.  “No one is allowed in until the Traveler gets here.  You especially Doctor Roberts.” 

            “Bobbi, er, Ms Brooks set this up?”  Glen asked while Alice spoke over his shoulder.

            “But that’s you, isn’t it?”

            “Lockhart, not that it matters.”  The other guard spoke.  He eyed the Sergeant Thomas and gave off very unwelcoming vibes.

            “You’re the traveler?”  The first man caught what Alice said.  “Prove it.”

            “Well, Far-quan-ned-ed.  How do you pronounce that?”

            “Far-canned.”

            “OH?”  Glen looked pleased.  “I knew a Far-canned once.  ‘Course he did not spell it the same.”

            “What?”  Alice did not follow.

            “Yeah.  Akkadian sticks.  He didn’t even use the same letters.”  He smiled for Alice.  “So how do I prove it?”

            “No idea.”  The second man stepped forward.  “I think you folks need to go back up to the big house.”

            “Pumpkin!”  Glen called and the fairy was obliged to appear, even as she had the night before when she first appeared.  It took her a second to get her bearings before she zoomed up to Glen’s face and pouted.

            “I was in the middle of saying something.”

            “What were you saying?”  Emile Roberts asked.  Glen, Mirowen and especially Pumpkin who threw her hands to her hips as she hovered in mid air looked at the man like he was plain stupid.

            “Gone with the wind,” Mirowen said.  “She probably can’t even remember what they were talking about.”

            “I can’t,” Pumpkin said, grumpily.

            “Pumpkin.”  Glen regained the fairy’s attention and that got her to smile again.  “I need you to tell Lockhart to call down here to the hut.  Can you do that?”

            “Easy,” Pumpkin said, and she left so fast it appeared as if she vanished.  The only telltale sign was the little breeze of her passing.  The phone rang a few seconds later, about as long it would take the man to call up the number and get his cell to dial it.

            “Yes, sir.”  Farquanded answered the phone.  “Bill is already unlocking the door.”  He spoke clearly enough but he couldn’t seem to get his eyes off Glen.

            Glen stepped up.  Everyone followed him into the hut where Glen breathed.  He was afraid the Vordan ship might have been in pieces like the Humanoid escape pod.  It looked untouched, apart from the scars it got from the shots that brought it down.

            “Fyodor!”  Glen spied the man in the corner.

            “Traveler.”  Fyodor came over to join the crowd.

            “You missed Brunch.

            “I had breakfast.”

            “Can it still fly?” 

            Fyodor shrugged and Glen stepped in to take a closer look at the systems.  He was right, the Vordan were honestly not much more advanced than the human race.  Doctor Roberts edged up to one side and Mirowen edged up to the other.  They were being curious but Glen was going to need them to help fix the thing.

            Alice decided she had to play hostess.  “Fyodor pilots the company plane and he was a cosmonaut, I guess.  This is Sergeant Thomas and I think he has assigned himself to be the Traveler’s bodyguard.”

            Fyodor started to laugh at that thought.  For the next fifteen minutes he couldn’t look at the marine without laughing.

            A half hour later, Fyodor sat in the pilot’s seat.  He had to keep his legs straight to reach the controls and said that would get very uncomfortable on a long flight.  But for now, the hut doors were open and everyone else was well out of the way.

            The engine started right up and Fyodor gave it a minute to let the pressure stabilize before he lifted the ship off the ground.  He bumped the ceiling, but he slowly coaxed it back down and through the Quonset hut doors and only took off a cross beam at the top of the doorway.  He set it down on the grass outside and shut it down.

            Everyone ran up when Fyodor opened the cockpit, but it was Alice who spoke first.  “Remind me not to let you park my car–”  Her eyes got big and her hand went to her mouth as she looked at Glen.  “My God, I’m starting to sound like you and Lockhart.”

            Glen smiled.  “I only get glib when I am nervous.”  With that he turned to Farquanded.  “You and Bill need to gather the troops.  You need to bring the prisoner here, alive and in one piece.”  Glen knew that was not an easy assignment, but now that the ship was out in the open there were a few more systems Fyodor, Emile and Mirowen needed to check, and Glen needed to plug the ball he took from the Humanoid escape pod into the Vordan communicator.

######

NOTE: To read this story from the beginning or to read any of the stories of the Traveler please click the tab “Traveler Tales.”  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.  –Michael.