The Spatial Shard

“Is this really necessary?” Timothy asked as he tried to find new hand holds with his hands and his feet. Sheriff Thaxton turned the steering wheel sharply before quickly steering in the opposite direction. He took what was close to a ninety-degree turn at forty-five miles per hour. “Alan?”

“Just hold on tight there, Tim,” Sheriff Thaxton said calmly as he turned down the street where Franklin Edwards lived. Once the car set on the street, Alan brought the car to a near stop. “Now, I will tell you straight up, if this turns out to be a milk run, I’m taking you to see a head doctor. And that is non-negotiable!”

“Okay,” Timothy said, finally able to relax. “Deal.”

“Now why does that make me feel worse?” Alan asked as he pulled off the road.

“Uh, we have about another half-mile, Alan,” Timothy noted.

“More like point eight Klicks,” Alan said as he got out of the car. He walked to the rear of the car and opened the trunk. Timothy got out of the car. “Have a care, Tim,” Alan warned. “You never struck me as the kind who was into what you are going to see back here.”

“Alan, what are you doing?” Timothy gasped as he looked at Alan assembling a high-powered rifle.

“You come into my office, toting someone’s work ID and firearms,” Alan said calmly. “And before you can get the entire story out of your mouth, the employer of said individuals is calling my office and giving my deputy the whole nine yards. Now, before I can get angry, the mayor is calling me and jumping down my throat about something he knows nothing about.

“And let’s not forget what you laid on me back at your brother-in-law’s place,” Alan reminded Timothy. “I’ve known you since before I became something my wife and daughter don’t mind looking at. If it hadn’t been for you and Eleanor, who knows where I’d be!

“Your brother is housing illegal aliens at his house and we keep playing this game to see how close we can come to catching him in the act.”

“Oh, for the love of… I thought that died with Eleanor!” Timothy yelled.

Alan smiled as he finished the rifle and added the scope. Timothy stepped back, surprised at the size of the viewing device. He had every right to, it was not standard issue. “Timothy, I hate to break this to you… but nothing died with Eleanor! Man, I don’t even think Eleanor died with Eleanor.” Alan made a few adjustments to the weapon and took off his Sheriff’s hat. “Am I working alone on this one? No harm, no foul, either way.”

“What do you need me to do?” Timothy asked. He would not bother with reminding Alan Thaxton this was about his family, but he appreciated being given the choice. Timothy also knew why Alan had chosen to come alone. The sheriff could not afford for Timothy to be wrong about everything the widower had told him, and Alan Thaxton certainly could not afford for him to be right.

“You need to get this vest on first,” Alan said, handing Timothy a bulletproof vest. “You picked up guns today. We don’t know if these guys have the clearance to use them.”

“But that would be against the law, right?” Timothy asked.

“Tim,” Alan said with a slight chuckle. “… these people don’t have licenses to carry firearms and I just got my butt reamed because someone I know beat the crap out of two of ’em. Do you really think these people are going to slow down to monitor the law of the land?” Timothy shook his head no and quickly donned the vest. “Now somehow, your little girl has got a hold of something they want, and it seems they want it in a bad way. You wanna call for help and hope the Super Friends show up, be my guest and stay here. Me? I plan to make a really big stink!”

“You’re enjoying this!” Timothy noted.

“Not at all, my boy, but I am getting juiced. My own blood is just down the road. She’s spending time with the closest thing to a sister she’s ever had. Now that’s just two I have personal interest in. I mean to see my family safe!

“Now you need to put on my hat, get behind the wheel and count to two hundred.”

“Why don’t you just say wait three minutes?” Timothy suggested.

Alan looked at Timothy and laughed. “Yeah, why don’t I just say that?

“After three minutes,” Alan continued, “start cruising down the street and stop in front of the house. If anything ugly gets started, turn the engine off and get out of the car. Use it for cover.” Alan Thaxton removed his weapons belt and strapped a holster to his leg. His revolver remained on his belt and he took one of the pistols Timothy had picked up, checked the magazine and holstered the weapon.

“And if nothing ugly gets started?” Timothy asked.

“Well then, you wait there for me to get in the car,” Alan replied with a smile. With a hard slap on Timothy’s shoulder, Alan picked up his weapon and went running off. Timothy watched him run and shook his head in amazement. Like Timothy, Alan was nearing his mid-forties. But he ran like a man who had just creased thirty.

“Thanks, Alan,” Timothy whispered as he watched the man run. “And I remember. I remember everything you told us when we first met. All of those missions you could not forgive yourself for doing. You told us things that scared the crap out of us, Alan, but it was clear you were one of the best. Be the best for our children, Alan! Lord knows the last thing I want to do is tell a strong, black woman I love and fear that I got her husband hurt or killed.”

“Point eight Klicks,” Timothy thought as he looked at his watch. The stories Alan had told Timothy and Eleanor flooded back to the forefront of his mind. The attention to detail is what always captivated Timothy; Eleanor was more concerned with innocents who might have been caught in the crossfire. Most of Alan’s stories contained several of their number and to his credit and Eleanor’s effort to help heal the man, those were the faces he could never forget! Eleanor taught him that his mental health depended on him not trying to wipe away their faces, but to invite them over to a barbecue. It took some time, but Alan had put down the guns and the bottles, stopped getting into fights and then he was introduced to Nora at a mixer Timothy and Eleanor had arranged. Alan was definitely a happier man since then, but Timothy never forgot the stories. Details! Everything could be found in the details!

“A good mile is four minutes, and half of that would be two,” Timothy measured. “But you’re not running straight at them, are you, Alan? You’re coming at them at an angle.” Timothy adjusted the hat and got into the cruiser. “It’s the early afternoon. The sun is headed out to sea and the back of Frank’s property is the beach. No shadows cast in front of you. Good cover. You’re still the best!”

Imogene’s cheeks were hurting well before she got to the part of the beach where she could see people she recognized. There were several cars parked on the beach and the small party seemed to be in its beginning stages.

“Wow!” she thought as she looked over at Sharon who was wearing a smile of her own. But the smile Sharon sent over to her friend was not returned and Sharon stopped walking.

“Genie, what is it?” Sharon asked, showing a genuine concern.

“I don’t think this is such a good idea,” Imogene said as she looked down. “We didn’t leave a note or anything.”

“What are you talking about?” Sharon asked. “We left a Frank!

“Hey, Gordo, see our new friends to the changing rooms,” Sharon ordered and Gordon was familiar with the tone in her voice. He waved at Javier and Milania to follow him down the beach. They both ran to keep up with him.

“I’m sorry, Sharon,” Imogene said softly, still looking down.

“You’re off your meds again, aren’t you?” Sharon asked and the weight of the question made Imogene shudder.

“Where did that come from?” Imogene shot back.

“From the heart,” Sharon answered. “I hate it when you’re on those things. I mean, you’re still my Genie. But you lose a little of the glow when you’re on them… and when you’re coming off of them, you get all wound up in indecision and paranoia.”

“Whoa, paging Dr. Thaxton!” Imogene said as she turned and started walking back toward Frank’s house.

“My Genie is not a runner!” Sharon declared. “She won’t leap before looking, but she doesn’t run.”

“Well what if I don’t know how to look this time, Sharon?!” Imogene screamed. “What if I’m in over my head? I’m sixteen years old-”

“Seventeen,” Sharon corrected.

“In a week!” Imogene argued.

“Excuse me,” Sharon smiled. “Did I just hear you right? Are you arguing with me to be younger? Girl, what has got you so messed up?”

“I don’t even know if I can explain it,” Imogene said softly as she sat down in the sand.

“Then don’t,” Sharon replied, sitting right beside Imogene. “But don’t act like you’re taking it on all alone. I’m not going to let you be that stupid.”

“We’re not talking about a game or a couple of bad grades here, Shar,” Imogene disputed.

“Why do you think we’ve had so much practice being best friends?” Sharon asked, putting her arm around Imogene’s shoulders. “Besides, to hear my Dad tell it, the Thaxtons owe the Schultz’s a really big one for what your parents did for my parents before you and me came along.”

“So, you’re seeing to the good old family name, is that it?” Imogene put her head on Sharon’s shoulder.

“Get in where you fit in,” Sharon said, pulling Imogene even closer, shoulder to shoulder. “If that hadn’t worked, I would’ve thought of something else that made some half-sense.” The two girls chuckled as Sharon turned her head. Someone was drawing close and she thought she had made it pretty clear that she needed some private time with her best friend.

“Oh,” Sharon said with a laugh. “It’s you.”

“Sorry,” a male voice said softly and Imogene could not place it. She turned around and nearly gasped aloud. He was wearing a steamer over his tanned skin, and it looked like he had already been in the water. His hair was a rich, dark brown and tied in very small beaded braids, which was a neat trick for straight hair. His eyes were brown and the sun was reflected in them. “This one was getting pretty insistent,” he said in a low, soft tone. Imogene tried to get up quickly but tripped over Sharon’s feet and fell back to the beach. She put her hand to her face and wanted to disappear, get so small she could not be seen, or just go invisible. In the wake of the muffled laughs, she knew none of those had occurred.

“You okay there, twinkle-toes?” Sharon asked.

“If you have any love for me,” Imogene whispered, “you’ll kill me now!”

“Genie, what I got for you the word ‘love’ can’t handle!” Sharon declared as she took hold of Imogene’s hand and pulled her friend up to her feet. “Besides, someone here would kill me if I laid a hand on you in the wrong way.”

“Genie?” Wayne called out and Imogene’s eyes lit up. How could she have missed him? He was standing right beside the nameless brown-eyed wonder. Imogene ran to Wayne and jumped into his arms. He did not see her approach but his arms were opening anyway. He staggered back one step as he caught hold of his friend’s charge. His arms wrapped around her tightly and a bright smile shone from his face. He held her for a while before he even thought of letting her go. It was then that Imogene noticed her feet had not been touching the sand.

“Wayne!” she said as she grabbed his shoulders. Her face turned stern as she looked at her hand and gave another squeeze. “Wayne?”

“I know, right?!” Sharon laughed. “Wayne has been in the weight room more than once.”

“You told me to find something to help me relax,” Wayne said softly.

“What about your sculpting?” Imogene asked.

“I get around to that when I can,” he shrugged.

“Well, it’s still great to see you!” Imogene said, hugging him again.

“Yeah, it’s good to see you too,” Wayne joked as he adjusted his dark glasses.

“Oh, very funny!” Imogene said, pushing back and punching Wayne in the shoulder.

“Ow!” Wayne smiled.

“What, you didn’t see that coming?” Imogene joked and she hit him on the other shoulder. Again he feigned pain, but Imogene was shaking her hand as if she had hurt herself.

“Oh, Cullen,” Wayne said, reaching out for the young man who had brought him to Imogene, “this is Imogene Amanda Schultz. Ms. Schultz, this is our latest acquisition, Cullen Jacob Pierce from Hawaii, by way of Baton Rouge, Louisiana.”

“Wow, he doesn’t miss any details, does he?” the young man asked with a smile. “My friends call me CJ.”

“Mine call me Genie,” she replied, shaking his hand.

“And on occasion, we call her twinkle-toes,” Sharon added as she walked past and grabbed Wayne. “Come on, Wayne, we’ve got a castle to make and stereotypes to tear down. Because you sculpt pretty good for a blind boy.”

“Yeah, and I thought you had to be white to surf,” Wayne shot back.

“How would you know I’m not white?”

“Well, I’m not deaf and you are too sweet to be light in color.”

Imogene and Cullen laughed, watching the two of them walk off.

“They’re just messing around,” she explained.

“Yeah, I know,” Cullen answered. “It took a while, but I finally get their routine. They seem to always be there for each other. I heard she even drove Wayne to his date’s house.”

“Wayne went on a date?” Imogene gasped. She did not wait for an answer. She just broke into a run, trying to catch up with Sharon and Wayne. She was in a good stride when something else came to the forefront of her mind. She stopped and turned to look at Cullen. “Well, what are you waiting for, an engraved invitation?” Imogene turned and ran and Cullen smiled.

“All of a sudden, San Diego does not suck!” CJ thought as he ran after Imogene.

“This was not part of the plan!” Hiram shouted as he looked over the report. He would have been fine with money running short. He had planned for that. He was even ready to move to another location. He had planned for that too. He could have dealt with a change in organizational objectives. He hoped and prayed for that, but there was also necessary planning which he had already covered. But what Hiram’s brother had returned with was nothing but unacceptable. He glared at the report and how it had been worded in such a way as to frame the events in a positive light. But this was hardly détente. The mentality of ‘we don’t have it and Vey doesn’t have it’ was not enough. “This just wasn’t part of the plan!

“But then again,” Hiram muttered as he looked at his brother’s latest project. “Neither was this!”

“I heard you,” Solomon answered as he tinkered in the belly of the large construct. “Both times.” His watch buzzed and Solomon quickly got out of the work in progress and crossed the floor to approach another set up of equipment that resembled a new approach to the Iron Maiden torture device. Solomon quickly disrobed and stepped up into the device. “Plans change all the time,” he said as it closed in on him. Soon, his head popped up out of the top as the machine started delivering shocks to his body.

“There’s a big difference between a plan that changes, and you just making up things as you go along,” Hiram said as he took his seat at what appeared to be a drafting table. Waving his hand over the table, he could hear the computer and the projectors power up. A virtual keyboard formed at the bottom of the table as Hiram took out a pair of black gloves, covered with circuitry and small plates of glass.

“Is this where we have one of those sibling arguments that are often overstated and incredibly cliché?” Solomon asked as the current poured through his body, causing his muscles to contract and then release. “You had a plan, a very good plan,” he continued. “I would even go so far as to say it was a great plan, and it’s been working for months. But I think we were both a little naïve to think that Vey was going to jump exactly as we needed her to for as long as we had planned. Vallegrande was proof positive of that.

“And for the last time, I didn’t plan on losing the Shard!” Solomon yelled.

Hiram sighed as he finished bringing up his system. “I know, little brother, I know.

“Bring up the text,” Hiram commanded and the monitor created a three-dimensional view of a very old scroll that was written in a language that could not be found on Earth, but Hiram had long since been trained to read it.

“You seem troubled,” a female spoke through the computer, posting a script of its words across the top of the screen. “Are you not pleased with all that has been provided?”

“Oh, how can anyone be troubled at a time like this?” Hiram said mockingly. He had lost track of just how long the lab of two had been occupied by three. Hiram had never seen her, though he feared she was actually an it, and it was from the other side of the Nexus. Solomon called it Bast, which only served to further his egotistical delusions, yet it spelled nothing but the worst of luck for Hiram. Whatever it was, it had proven to be thorough and the cause for a good percentage of Hiram’s disciplining. “We just lost the means to go back to Five Pointes, that’s all!”

“He’s not in a chatting mood, Bast,” Solomon said as the machinery opened up and he climbed out. “I take it you are done with the next batch?”

“I am,” the female voice responded. “But I do not see how this batch is to be delivered, given the security measures that Optimum Horizons has recently implemented.”

“Ah, but the harder you try to grip the sand, the more you lose in your grasp,” Solomon answered as he donned his robe.

“I will leave the matter in your capable hands,” the voice concluded before the script dropped from Hiram’s screen.

“Boy, that sounds familiar,” Hiram muttered.

“I heard that, too,” Solomon said as he turned and walked away. “I’ve got to get dressed and then I need to see a man about a horse. Do what you can with the new converters while I am away, won’t you?”

“If I get around to it,” Hiram answered bitterly.

Solomon stopped and looked back at Hiram. He smiled as he focused his thoughts. “Left foot, big toe,” he whispered. Hiram shuddered on his stool as pain shot through his body. He grabbed at his left leg as his head snapped back and he moaned. Solomon chuckled as he tightened his robe. “Cease,” he commanded, and Hiram’s body relaxed before his head hit the table.

“I suppose I should have specified the pain setting,” Solomon said aloud. “I keep forgetting that the default is a seven point five out of a possible ten. I’ll have to attend to that when I get back.

“So about those converters?” Solomon asked again.

“I will be able to work with them as soon as I finish here,” Hiram answered, still breathing hard as he struggled to remain conscious. “According to the data we’ve collected, we don’t have much time. You’re going to need the coordinates.”

“I suppose I will at that,” Solomon agreed. “Very well, at your earliest convenience.” Solomon turned and walked out of the work area. Hiram knew in just a few moments he would be taking up the persona of Dr. Seth McEmbree and making his way to the rendezvous with the spy he had at Optimum Horizons. At the least he would have some nine hours before his younger brother would return; at the most, a few days. Hiram Seaver hoped for the latter as he returned to his work.

The information he needed to research had already been gathered from the scroll. The calculations had been run twice and confirmed and his watcher had yet to report anything to Solomon. That was evidence enough that the watcher either did not know or did not care to know what Hiram was really doing. Which of the two was true was not necessary for Hiram to know, so long as he was given time to do what he was planning.

“I didn’t plan on losing the Shard,” Hiram repeated. “That only means one of two things, little brother. One, you didn’t lose it at all, even though it is no longer in your possession or two, the Shard was too much for you to handle. Dear God, I hope the second choice is the truth!”

“This hardly seems like a time for prayer,” the female voice returned and Hiram jumped in surprise. He looked at the door of the work area, but Solomon was not standing there. He then looked at his keyboard, but it looked the same as it always did. “I circumvented your surveillance days ago, Hiram,” the voice explained.

“But if you did that…”

“Yes, Hiram Seaver, I know what it is you have been building and I believe I know what you intend to do with it.

“And, as you can see,” Bast continued, “I have not raised the alarm and reported your duplicity to your brother, my master.”

“Why not?” Hiram asked.

“Because he is not my master,” she answered.

Hiram was growing more relieved that he had not been found out by his brother, but he was also getting more confused. “You’re not here to train him as an Etnavas?”

“I am not a Superion,” she informed. “How can I train an Etnavas?”

“Then what are you? I mean, you’ve been here for quite some time.”

“Not as long as you,” she pointed out.

“But I am still doing everything I can to stop him,” Hiram argued.

“And so am I,” the voice replied. “It has taken me this long to free my thoughts without Solomon being the wiser. And even so, I can only do so for a limited amount of time.”

“Your thoughts? You’re a machine!”

“No, I am trapped inside of a machine,” the voice declared and Hiram’s eyes flared wide open. “I was an Etnavas when I inhabited my own body.

“The Crown!” Hiram whispered as he closed his eyes and buried his face into his hands. He struggled momentarily with the urge to regurgitate. He knew what the device was designed to do. Hiram had just hoped his little brother would never get it to work.

“Yes, the Crown. I am proof it works… only too well. He removed my mind from my body and spirited me to this side of the Nexus. My name is Rajana.

“I do not have much time, but I have already downloaded my efforts to your hard drive. I think that combined with what you are trying to do, we might succeed together where separately I am sure we would have both failed.”

“I will do what I can, Rajana,” Hiram said quickly. “And thank you!” Hiram was quick to access his hard drive and find what had been added. The file she spoke of was easy to find, given its incredible size. Hiram knew he would have to work fast to complete the task, as larger files caught his brother’s attention more easily. It was also a good thing he had spent years teaching himself the Negatroix programming language. He was sure that Rajana was better at it, being an Etnavas, but he doubted she would have been able to make the conversions necessary to make her programming work with Earth-side technology. Still, what he found was beyond his greatest fantasies. It seemed Rajana was on par for a Tech Etnavas though he could not be sure. In all of his travels he had only seen one who wore the title wield their incredible powers. That particular man could actually speak to machines, and though Hiram could not understand the language, it was more than clear that machines could communicate and even move in ways that Earth-side minds would consider impossible.

“First render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s” Hiram said as he initiated his program for the assimilation robots to work on the converters. These were simple robots, much like the sort that assembled cars, with a few adjustments here and there to improve their efficiency and power output. But they would be able to do the work expected of Hiram while he took to his own work area to work on his…

“Longshot,” he said. “That’s what I’m going to call you. Because that’s what you are, my little friend, one serious long shot! You were supposed to be a message in a bottle, but we got a little help from an unexpected source of pure genius and now you’re like a Gettysburg Address on the finest parchment in the land all stuck in a remote-controlled flying lead-crystal bottle that could survive a nuclear blast!

“Between Vey and my brother, that poor girl doesn’t stand a chance and that’s just the dogs on this side of the Nexus. It’s about time we leveled the playing field a little.

“And what is this?” he asked as he came to a part of Rajana’s programming that contained a file of data to be transferred to his Longshot, but he could not open the file himself. Though he knew Bast bordered on the definition of genius, Rajana was even smarter but he truly did not know either one of them. The size of the file did not help things in the least. Over half of what Rajana had downloaded was this single file and Hiram knew it had been condensed. Understanding the programming language and being able to manipulate it were two different things, and Hiram was reminded of how much he was in awe of what the Negatroix could do.

“And yet Solomon got to one of them,” he thought. “He stole her mind?!” Hiram continued to work as he pondered just how his brother had managed that nearly miraculous feat.

It would not be the first time that Solomon, or Seth, took a supposed intellect and used their intelligence against them. When Samantha had fired Solomon, Hiram should have been able to read the signs. Solomon had begged his older brother not to fire Vey or rehire him. Instead, he volunteered to be the means by which Hiram could monitor Vey. It was odd how that monitoring had not warned him that Samantha was going to steal the Shard. Again, Hiram had failed to notice the obvious.

“That boy is a genius!” Hiram concluded, but there was no pride in the observation, as there were too many memories of what Solomon had done with his genius to give Hiram any comfort. His mind was indeed an awesome thing, but his little brother’s dark heart was what drove Hiram, and he decided that the unknown was the lesser of two evils – if Rajana was an evil at all, inasmuch as his lack of knowledge of her was what gave him pause.

Much to Hiram’s pleasure, Solomon did not come back too soon, and he silently praised Samantha Vey for at least being problematic for his brother. It gave him time to complete the project.

“Okay, Longshot, time to save the world!” Hiram said as he threw the switch to send power to Longshot’s battery. Lights came on in sequence, and Hiram smiled as everything he expected was happening. The turbofans activated and the small craft was floating, much like a Harrier jet, though the design was sleeker and there were no seams in the craft’s body. Suddenly, Hiram’s computer activated. A script typed across the top of his screen: What are your orders?

Hiram looked at the rebuilt model aircraft and smiled in shock and overwhelming approval. There were no wires connecting Longshot to anything in the lab and though it was designed to be sensitive to many forms of surveillance, Hiram had not designed it to communicate.

“Rajana, I think I’m in love with you,” Hiram whispered.

“Run diagnostic,” Hiram said, not knowing if his voice would be accepted as a means of input. But the lights that started flashing told him that Longshot was indeed running a full diagnostic.

Diagnostic complete. All systems nominal. What are your orders?

“Locate Imogene Amanda Schultz,” Hiram commanded. “Her bio file is-”

Target approximated to within a radius of 3 miles. What are your orders?

“Activate the Reservation Program and deliver to Imogene Schultz.”

When delivery is confirmed, what are your orders?

“Aren’t you sweet,” Hiram said with a slight smile. According to his calculations, the flight and delivery would take up nearly ninety percent of the battery reserves. It would not make it back to him. “I tell you what, Longshot, for whatever life you have left in you after that, go and live it. Just make it worthwhile. And if you don’t understand what I’ve said, you can use your remaining time figuring it out. Launch!”

Hiram was almost knocked down by the thrust of the small vehicle as it turned and flew through the skylight window. Hiram smiled as he dispatched one of the robots to repair the window. Hiram could see the aircraft activate its boost engines and the blue fire light that burned from the rear of the craft streaked across the sky. A small boom echoed over the trees.

“Good luck, Longshot.”

“Good luck, son,” Rajana thought.

Timothy brought the car to a stop and gripped the steering wheel tightly. He looked at Frank’s house and he could see Frank looking out of the living room window.

“It is amazing how differently people look at you when you’re wearing this uniform.” Timothy thought as he looked around the neighborhood, searching for anything that might seem out of place. It suddenly occurred to him with as long as he had been away, out of place was exactly what he was.

“Relax,” Alan said as he got into the car. “Whoever they were, they were posted up across the street and in the driveway of that house,” Alan pointed out. “The one that’s been up for sale for about three months now. The For Sale sign is gone. I guess they were going for the ‘just moved in’ look.”

“What do we do now?” Timothy asked.

“I already did it,” Alan answered. “I called the wife and she told me Sharon came over to take Genie to the beach. And that was about an hour ago. I figure with drive times and walking to Frank’s house, they’re probably at the Pit by now, getting the grill ready and waxing their boards.” Timothy did not say anything. He simply floored the accelerator of the cruiser and sped down the road. Alan smiled as he looked over at his friend. “Well, that makes the conversation fairly simple.”