We left our heroes in the pantope, connected to a parallel version of
the planet Hellene, in the timeline containing the para-Victorian world
of "Castle Falkenstein." We had discovered, the hard way, that the
draconians were monitoring activity at the ranch site, even on this
parallel. We were considering visiting the draconians in freeze-frame.
Instead, we first fast-forward a day, to see if the draconians poke
around any more. they do indeed. An air-car comes in, buzzes around,
then leaves. Night flashes by. The next morning, three of the
manta-shaped fighter ships come zipping in. they disgorge several
floating platforms, at which point we drop back to normal time, to
watch.
The platforms are staffed by the beefy, leathery "dragontroopers" and
their more gracile officer-caste. And there's one fellow who looks, at
a distance, as if he's wearing a cowl, but turns out to be more of a
cobra-man. He appears to be the ranking critter. At one point, he
conjures up a staff and waves it around. They all hover about and do
scanning motions, but no one and nothing actually touches the ground.
Eventually, they all pack up and go away.
We fast-forward a little more, and find that they come back next day,
with lots more platforms. No cobra-man is evident this time. There's a
cluster of scanners near the ground and another cluster up in the air,
apparently on look-out. Brunalf the neo-cat is sure they're inspecting
the spot where we first opened a door. It's gratifying to see how
scared they appear to be of us.
Robbie has Tom sail the pantope door around the planet, over to the
island where Pericles is on our timeline. It's empty, and rather less
lushly forested than our version. We open a door and Robbie steps out,
cautiously, looking at the Map of Here. Nothing happens to him. Nor,
when he cranks the scale up far enough, does anything happen in the way
of dimensional activity elsewhere on the planet. And, looking back at
the draconians at the ranch-site, no one there twitches or notes red
lights flashing. So the draconians are not scanning the entire planet
of Hellene. How finite of them.
Back in the pantope and disconnected, Robbie looks over the service log
on the Map, and determines (what we could have learned weeks ago) that
the dimensional portals used by Ms. Yanova are very like the ones used
by the draconian spies before the raid on Destine. This all fits with
our idea that the draconians, in particular Lilith, were using Ms.
Yanova.
We decide that trying to spy on the draconian outpost on Hellene is more
risk than it's likely to be worth. However, it would be worthwhile
having a way to detect draconian dimension-doors. And Jumping Jacks
appears to have that sort of technology. So we gate into Jumping Jacks.
Specifically, we open on the hangar where Tom keeps the Nones, a few
moments after we returned it. And this is a few days after the end of
the battle under the force-dome. We step out, and Tom remembers, this
time, to call security and "check in," so no one runs about in a panic,
discovering what the new dimensional anomaly is. They're grateful.
Robbie fishes out a calling-card to call Cantrel. "Why not just do it
in your head?" Tom asks, since Robbie has done this many times before.
At least, he did back in the days when he had hardware, and sometimes
since. Robbie is discomfited to find himself forgetting this sort of
thing, but can, indeed, call Cantrel up in his head.
Cantrel invites us to gate over to his office, thus circumventing his
receptionist. We tell him that we feel a dimensional-door detector
would be useful at the ranch. He agrees, but tells us it is a product
of Eldacur Technology, not Jumping Jacks, and will take a few days to
get rummaged up and installed, especially since Eldacur Technologies is
helping Jumping Jacks with the re-building effort after the battle.
Also, the equipment "refuses to be captured," self-destructing if
necessary, so we should keep it away from other equipment. We agree to
all this, say we're in no particular rush, and gate out.
Tom has been thinking about where to finally put the nephilim. Most of
them don't want to go to the Plains of Penance and the Seven Times Seven
Cities of the Nephilim beyond. It seems like anywhere else in creation
leaves them vulnerable to draconian attack. He asks Braeta if it
mightn't be better to turn them loose on Chaos' Rim so they can MAKE a
realm of their own.
Braeta replies that something like that was suggested among the
nephilite remnant about 3000 years ago, but it didn't go over well. The
fact of the matter is that the remnant really like the mundane plane and
just don't want to leave. Anyway, all these manufactured realms are so
... small, cosmologically speaking. And a race of demi-gods and heroes
is not keen on any move that looks like surrender.
Okay, okay. How about this line's version of the planet of New Hierow?
Arcane beings appear to be allowed out in public on this line, and New
Hierow is an out-of-the-way planet. Sounds good, provided the place is
sufficiently habitable.
One problem with all this gating about in the pantope is that you lose
track of your personal time. Lots of us are tired. We decide to call
it a day (since we can call it anything we like) and go rest at the
ranch. This will also give us a chance to see how Drumthortle is
getting along, and to tell him about the people coming to install the
dimensional detection machinery.
We open on the library in the ranch and soon locate Drumthortle. He's
been keeping himself busy, dwarf-style. He's been excavating a new
basement for us, since we clearly lacked sufficient cellarage, by his
standards.
We are mildly aghast at home much he's excavated in the short time we've
left him to it, but we do know, from previous time-trips, that we have
loads of underground space by thirty years in the future. We just
didn't know he'd dig it single-handedly. For a hobby. In a month.
He's sort of an earth-moving machine that runs on beer and pretzels...
The new basement includes:
- A secret entrance in the back of the hall closet. (Very dwarvish.)
(Low lintel.)
- A new kitchen, though it is not yet really equipped.
- A new exercise room, though the main exercise is presently lifting
rocks.
- A new weapons locker. This is equipped. Drumthortle is a soldier,
after all.
The weapons include used (or "seasoned") weapons, for Tom, whose knack
of Tools runs off the psychic traces left by previous users, but also
some just plain honkin' big guns, to make Dafnord's trigger fingers
twitch.
Robbie, remembering to do it through his head this time, dispatches an
e-mail memo to Cantrel, telling him to officially commend Drumthortle
for his industry, even if he does regard the dwarf as a "senile old
fool."
Dafnord goes to a comm console and begins mail-ordering gym equipment.
Daphne begins planning an underground conservatory with Drumthortle,
who's not big on trees, but likes the digging part fine.
Tom goes to bed. So does Robbie. He tries to sleep and finds he can.
On waking, he tries shapeshifting from his current shape (very humanoid,
Madame Tussaud's best effort, almost passes for human) to his old shape
(shiny black humanoid with silver piping). He finds he can, which is a
comfort to him.
Early the next morning, Dafnord rises and seeks out Drumthortle. He
really wants to try out the new plasma bazooka Drumthortle put in the
new weapons locker, and knows the dwarf would enjoy this too. They head
out in the new truck (which Drumthortle ordered on his own initiative,
but hey, we'll put in on Yanova's bill), to test the gun by blasting the
top off a small hill, so Drumthortle can get to the rock underneath, for
construction material. Daphne, always fond of fireworks, comes along.
Once they get to the hill, Daphne points out that there's a perfectly
nice tree in the way, which she'd rather not see incinerated.
The dwarf grunts. What can you expect from a pixie who does wood magic?
But Dafnord sighs and resolves to do something, since Daphne is a tested
battle-comrade of his, who has hauled his bacon out of some odd fires.
How would she like it transplanted? Fine.
So Dafnord strips of his shirt, revs up his voluntary hysteria skills,
grabs the tree, and shakes it loose. He then pulls it out
just in time for the admiration of several domestic robots (who were
bringing rope, explosives, and similar landscaping supplies) and the
Gargoyle (who was just tagging long), in addition to the dwarf, the
pixie, and a couple of the local lads on air-cycles, who've been hired
by Drumthortle to help out and happened by in time for the show.
Dafnord then uses his sword Umbra to cut out a suitable root ball. He
ties a rope to the tree and has Drumthortle use the truck to haul it up
into the air. (Of course it's an air truck.)
He then uses his plasma bazooka to blast a new hole for the tree. When
that's insufficient, he orders the robot totting the explosives to park
its little red wagon in the shallow crater...
...and soon it's a much deeper crater, and the robot is minus one little
red wagon. It goes back to the garage to pout. The new air-truck
lowers the tree into its new hole and quietly decides to put itself up
for sale on the local web.
Daphne satisfied, Dafnord and Drumthortle turn back to their small hill
and cheerfully blast all the topsoil off it. The rest of the robots
edge inconspicuously back toward the ranch house, where you can bet
that, if anyone was still asleep, they aren't any more.
Updated: 7-Oct-06
©1984, 1994, 2005 Earl Wajenberg. All Rights Reserved.
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