PREFACE:

THE LONG JOURNEY

First of all, I'd like to thank you for your choice of this book. What you are not aware of is that these characters and story have been a part of my life for over twenty years.

I recall many years ago reading the introduction to Stephen King's novel THE DARK TOWER: THE GUNFIGHTER, and being amazed at the fact that it had taken twelve years for King finish the book. At the time I couldn't believe that any writer could keep a story alive for that long. Now, I do.

It began in the fall of 1984 when I was attending the College of San Mateo. I was given the assignment of writing a short, twenty minute, script for film class. At the time I was a fan of the British Science Fiction series Doctor Who, so I decided I would do my script in a similar vein. Thus, I decided my main character would be an alien time traveler, and that I'd call him The Traveler (not a typo, by the way. I'm aware that there is another Sci Fi character named The Traveller out there). I decided my story would be about how The Traveler comes to Earth to stop another alien time traveler who had come to destroy the Earth.

Anyway, to make a long story short, I wrote the script and for the next two years went to work producing a short film based on it. The result was my student film, The Traveler: Two to Doomsday.

My film teachers gave me an excellent grade and I figured that was that. But The Traveler had other ideas.

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During my final year at the College of San Mateo I got interested in writing novels and short stories. My first attempt was a Doctor Who fan fiction novel titled Doctor Who: The Vengeance of Omega. After finishing this work I felt confident enough to begin an original work of my own. But what would I write about? The first thing that came to my mind was The Traveler. But the thing was I didn't want to create a carbon copy of Doctor Who. So, I sat down and thought what aspects I liked in Doctor Who and other science fiction and what I could do to make my story my own.

What I decided was that rather than go for a lot of tongue in cheek humor, like was prevalent in Doctor Who I would strive to make my story more serious and emotionally centered. In order to do this I figured I needed to get the reader to really care about the characters. To do this I tried to give them more rounded back stories, rather than making them one dimensional comic book characters. Which proved very difficult given the fact that my story centered on a main character that wore a straw hat, paint splatter patterned shirt, and drove a flying RV. But in the end I figure I achieved my goal.

The main reason why this book has taken so long to complete was because it seemed like fate, itself, was against me. It started with the outline.

My mentor in all things writing, William C. Knott, wrote about how important the outline to a novel is, and how many writers would spend up to a year writing it. So, with great care I did just that.

Anyway, I was nearly finished with my outline when my nephew, Orion, came to visit. I had been working on the outline and had left my Cannon CAT work processor (A major purchasing blunder on my part.)on to go to get a cup of coffee. Well, my nephew

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decided he wanted to use my video game system. So, he unplugged my work processor without turning it off.

The result was a years worth of work somehow got scrambled. Thus, because I didn't know to make backup disks of my work, I ended up having to rewrite the entire thing over.

The next amusing incident happened a couple of years later, when I was only four chapters away from finishing my rough draft of the book. A fire started in the living room of my house. Though the majority of my house didn't burn, there was still smoke damage. Anyway, the restoration company our insurance company hired to take care of my family's personal belongings refused to allow me to keep possession of my work processor, even though it had not been damaged in the fire, nor had it been smoked because of its dust cover. So, for the next year and a half I didn't have access to my work processor.

Then, of course, when I finally got my CAT

back it had somehow got damaged while being in storage. The insurance company paid to get me a new word processor, but because the Cannon CAT work processor wasn't compatible with other word processors I lost all my work, even with a dozen backups.

So, for the next three years not only did I have to rewrite all the chapters I'd already finished, I also had to rewrite the damned outline again.

Then, a couple of years later my work on the book stopped yet again, but this time it was because of something more positive. I 'd gotten a contract to write a series of four young adult novels based on the Friday The Thirteenth franchise. This turned out to be a nightmare unto itself in that the publishers tricked me into a contract requiring me to finish all four novels in one year. So, you can imagine that after the amazing

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feat of actually finishing all those novels in so short of

a time I'd need a bit of a rest. So for the next few years The Traveler remained unfinished and sitting in limbo in the disk holder next to my word processor.

During this time I exchanged my word processor for a computer and my interests turned to the internet. For my first web site I decided to create a video review site with a couple of unique characters to host it. Immediately, my mind went to The Traveler again. Thus, The Video Traveler and Rifc's Video Review was born.

Surprisingly enough the site was a hit and it inspired me to create other sites. Thus, I went on to create Bill's Puppet Master Website, Friday The Thirteenth: Jason's Bloodbath, and more importantly Outpost Vevetta.

It was during the time that I was building Outpost Vevetta that I began to get a renewed interest in finishing The Traveler. This was because I'd seen many sites on the web that had original fiction and I got the idea of adding a preview page and seeing what people thought of my work.

Since then I've gotten a lot of input from my fans on the web, which has been invaluable when it came to finishing and editing this novel. And, though over the past few years I have strayed a bit at times to write another Friday The Thirteenth novel, and to work on the screenplay for a horror film anthology titled The Horror Seasons, I always seem to manage to come back to the world of The Traveler.

And thus, I have finally reached the conclusion of this journey.....but when one journey ends another begins....

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PROLOGUE

The man in the hooded cloak watched as the Guardian of the Halls exited the last of the visitors from the exhibit halls. The lights dimmed to half intensity, deepening the shadows that were already present and causing new ones to be formed as well.

The hooded man watched, from his hiding place behind a suit of primitive eight limbed armor from a planet in the Traguith system, as the old man closed the main entrance and started walking down the hall giving each exhibit a cursory examination as he went by.

He held his breath as the Guardian passed his hiding place. Luckily, with the way the shadows hit the armor the Guardian didn't notice him kneeling behind it. Lucky for the Guardian that is. he thought as he slowly let his breath out. It was too soon for him to make his move.

He waited until the old man entered the next exhibit hall before coming out from his hiding place and following him.

Walking with the quiet precision of a hunter stalking his prey he made it to the entrance to the next hall, stood to the side and watched the Guardian as he did his rounds.

He continued this routine until the Guardian reached the exhibit hall with the gold colored plaque that read PLANET CENTURA. Now, he thought, now!

He knew he had to be quick. Even though the

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exhibit halls didn't have an alarm or monitoring system there was still a chance that if he gave the Guardian an opporunity to cry out someone might hear.

He focused all his attention on the job at hand. He went over what he was going to do movement by movement.

He tasted salt as a drop of perspiration touched his lip. His mouth went dry. He held his breath. His

muscles tensed. Now, he thought, now!

Then he struck.

He bolted out from the entrance and charged at the Guardian. The old man had barely enough time to turn, before he was on him. The hooded man brought his fist down on the soft area at the back of the old man's skull, letting out his breath as he did so.

The Guardian's knees buckled and he started to fall forward, but the hooded man caught him.

He gently laid the old man face up on the floor. He put his index and forefinger against the Guardian's carotid and checked his pulse. Then he took a small pocket light out from under his cloak and checked to see if his eyes were dilated. I'm sorry, he thought as he looked down at the unmoving, craggy, white haired, and bearded face of the Guardian. It isn't death I wish to bring.

Satisfied that the Guardian would recover, he went on with his business.

He started checking the different exhibit cases for the items he needed. They must be around here someplace. he thought after a short period of time looking through the cases without success.

Then, after what seemed to him like an eternity, but was in actuality a mere matter of minutes, his efforts bore fruit. The devices in the display case weren't very

impressive visually by any means, but they didn't have to

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be. Their function was what mattered.

The larger of the two devices was nothing more than an eight by ten inch unadorned gray metal box. The other looked like a simple remote control, similar to those twentieth century earth people used to turn on their televisions.

He got the urge to giggle at the simple sign in front of them. It read, 'PRISONER

CONTROL DEVICES'. What a lame description for something of their caliber. he thought.

He brought a small hand-held laser cutter out from under his cloak and proceeded to cut open the display case. Now, he thought as he worked, the long wait has ended.

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Chapter One

THE RETURN

"Tya!" screamed Flink Plexaha as he bolted up in bed.

Wild eyed, he looked around the room. Dim light leaked through loosely woven cloths, that were used as window shades, giving a hazy view of the room. The walls, from what he could make out, were bare, except for a single row of shelves filled with clay bowls, cups and jars on the far right and an empty stone fireplace on the left. In the center of the room was a table, but he couldn't make out what was on top of it.

Then, a few moments later, with a sigh of relief, he realized he was sitting in his own bed safe in his cabin. It had all been a bad dream, a dream he'd had countless times. Yet, with this realization came the fact that the events depicted in the dream were undeniably real. Then the true agony began, because he knew she was truly lost to him. Tya was dead.

Every time he thought he was coming to terms with the memory of her loss he'd have another one of these damned nightmares and the pain would come back. Even after a hundred years of trying he still hadn't been able free himself of the pain of her death.

A hundred years was nothing to a Vevettan. Thanks to the fact that he was in the cycle of Vevettan life that was called the Slowing, which meant that every cell in his body was constantly regenerating, he could look forward to at least another couple of thousand

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years of trying to purge himself of his guilt and anguish.

"Had another nightmare, Master?" asked Flink's three inch tall, barrel-shaped, robot companion from the table.

"Yeah." he said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Wanna finish the game, Rifc?" he asked, though he knew his heart really wasn't in it. He figured,though, a game of chess might help him clear his mind.

"Whose move?" came the chirpy reply.

"I don't remember. You go first." Flink said as he crawled out of bed, which was made up of criss-crossing ropes tied to a wooden frame. Slipping his feet into a pair of thongs on his way out of bed, he dragged himself over to the table.

Sitting down in the creaky, old, chair, Flink took a small metal box out of his pocket. Taking out a wooden match and striking it on the side of the box, he lit a candle sitting on top of the table. The light illuminated the chess board built into the table top.

On the board was a set of hand-carved chess pieces. From the positions and even number of opposing pieces that sat discarded to either side of the board, it appeared that Flink and Rifc were well matched. From past experience they both knew the outcome would be either a close win or a draw.

Rifc wobbled, on his block-like feet, across the board to one of his pawns. Extracting two thin metal arms from his sides, and using the three claw-like fingers at the ends, he grabbed the pawn and moved it two spaces to the left. "Your move, Master."

Flink quickly moved one of his pawns. His mind really wasn't on what he was doing. The afterimage of Tya's dead form was still clear in his mind.

"Your game is off, Master." Rifc told him. "Your

Queen is in jeopardy."

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He looked at Rifc like he didn't know what he meant. "Worry about your own pieces." he said, a touch of annoyance in his tone.

The two light globe eyes in the transparent blue dome Rifc called a head pulsed intensely.

Two moves later one of Rifc knights took Flink's Queen. "I tried to warn you, Master."

"I know, and I'm sorry, Rifc." Flink said, leaning forward and resting his head on his hands. "Maybe we should continue this later, when I've got my head on straight."

The tiny robot didn't respond. Flink looked up and noticed that Rifc's eye-globes had started to glow noticeably brighter again. "What is it, Rifc?" Flink asked.

"I detect a skysled approaching, Master."

"It could just be a fly over." he said dismissively.

"Negative, Master." Rifc said. "The ship's trajectory indicates that it is in a decent pattern."

"How long till arrival?" Flink asked, getting up from the chair.

"It will arrive here in two point five minutes."

"Then I guess we should get ready for unwanted guests." he said. Then, looking down at the chess board he took his king and laid it on it's side. Let's see what new game this unwanted visitor has in store for me. he thought, as he headed for the door.

Flink stood outside his cabin waiting for the skysled to come into view. The sky still bore a trace of crimson from the rising of Vevetta II's twin suns Brith and Somat. Finally, he caught his first glimpse of the craft, a mere dot framed by the tenuous vines of the Kyo trees at the other end of the meadow.

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As the ship came into range, he was surprised to see that the craft was the same design as the last one he'd seen a hundred years ago. It was still bullet shaped with two small fin-like projections two either side below and one large one on top. It also had four small anti-gravity unites underneath, and twin thrusters in the back. What else would you expect from a people who dislike change. he thought.

When the skysled was straight over head, it went into hover mode. The thunder of the thrusters died and was proceeded by the humming of the anti-gravity unites. The skysled lowered into the meadow with a smooth, floating, motion. As it came down three claw-like landing gear lowered from open hatches below and locked into place.

Flink walked up to the skysled as it landed. He caught the breeze from the disturbed air around the ship. He also caught, to his dislike, the putrid odor of thruster exhaust. He stifled a cough, for fear of letting more of the noxious fumes into his, now burning, lungs.

A few moments later, he watched as, with a humming sound, the hatch facing him opened. The hatch door was made of two halves, one half went up and the other came down to make steps. The hatch opening was small, so the crew had to stoop to get through. Flink was surprised that that quirk in the design hadn't been corrected by now.

He wasn't surprised when he saw that the two men who came out of the skysled wore the burgundy,

with gray trim, robes of the Council of Space/Time Research, or S.T.R. for short. The one Flink instantly spotted as the leader was lanky, with flowing golden blond hair that was tied in the back with a silver string. In his hand he carried a small palm-sized silver box. Flink could tell the type of person he was dealing with from the look of bloated

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self-importance he wore on his perfectly sculptured face. His companion, who walked a pace behind him, was brawny, with heavily curled red hair and jovial features. Flink saw him as the type that would do all the physical work while his companion did all the thinking. Even on a highly advanced world like Vevetta II, Flink thought, the self-important types always have to have their pet muscles.

The leader walked up to him and raised his arms in an open handed gesture. "May the twin lights be upon you forever." the leader said in the customary greeting. "I am Councilor third Level Thyo Armagon. This is my assistant Subcouncilor fifth Level Yom Packart." He indicated his heavy built companion. His companion silently gave the open handed gesture and nodded his head.

Flink ignored the greetings and stood with his arms crossed. "State your business." he said flatly.

"Flink Plexaha," Thyo said, his voice a controlled monotone that did little to hide the anger he felt over Flink's lack of curtesy, "you are hereby given notice that, in accordance with the section of the Articles of the S.T.R. dealing with emergency reactivations, on this date your commission has been restored and you are hereby ordered to return with us immediately and present yourself before the S.T.R.Council."

"Did the Council give you the reason for my being drafted?"

"No sir. But we've been given the option of using force, if we have to, to get you to follow orders." Thyo said, looking over at his muscular companion, who smiled in return.

"I've done my duty." Flink said, spitting out the words. "All I want is to be left alone."

"Well, it appears the Council has other plans."

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"Under whose authorization is this order given?" Flink asked in an authoritative tone.

Thyo handed him the silver box, which turned

out to be a small visual recording device. It showed a copy of the order. At the bottom of the order was a name.

"Zareth Metk,...the President of the Council!" Flink said aloud. Now he knew something was up. "What's going on here?"

"I have no knowledge nor concern other than getting you back to Khiba Quar with the utmost speed." And you probably wouldn't tell me anyway. Flink thought.

"I've got to get some things before we leave. They might be of some use."

"The order said immediately." Thyo said.

"I refuse to go into an unknown situation without the proper equipment." Flink shot back at him.

"Make it quick." Thyo ordered.

Let's not pull the reigns too tightly, my friend, or the horse might buck. Flink thought as he headed for the cabin.

Once inside, Flink headed straight for the bed. Under it, visible through the criss-crossing rope mattress, he pulled out a battered looking suitcase.

Opening the suitcase, he looked at the assortment of devices inside. He quickly checked through them to make sure they were all there. He had dozens of medical, repair, and detection devices from all over the known universe, which he'd picked up during jaunts to other planets.

Satisfied that all the devices were in their proper places, Flink closed the case and headed to the table to get Rifc.

"What is going on, Master?" Rifc said, with a

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puzzled chirp.

"We're going on a little trip." he said, with little enthusiasm. Grabbing Rifc, he put him in the pocket of his ragged looking brown paint splatter design white shirt and headed for the cabin door.

Stopping at the coat rack by the door he put on a fur coat. The coat was made from the pelt of a predator called a krent, which resembled a mix between an Earth boar and a grizzly bear. He'd made it for the upcoming winter. I'll definitely need it. he thought, preparing for the cold reception he knew he was going to get outside.

Grabbing the suitcase from where he'd set it on the floor he strode out the door. "Let's get this over

with." he said, unenthusiastically.

Thyo and Yom were waiting by the skysled, impatience showing on their faces. Thyo was leaning against the Skysled rhythmically tapping on its hull. Yom was standing beside him, twirling the chain of his family-clan medallion around his finger.

"Took you long enough." Thyo said, annoyedly. "The Council can't wait for you forever.....and what, the Creator, are you dressed up for."

Flink ignored him and headed for the skysled.

Yom ushered Flink into the skysled, making sure he got in with the utmost swiftness. Thyo followed, with a shake of his head and a huff, as he took one last look at Flink's weathered looking cabin.

"Back to civilization we go." he muttered, looking at Flink with a smirky smile creasing his face.

After stowing Flink's suitcase in a small storage bin, Yom seated him in the thrusterseat directly behind the pilot's seat. The skysled was cramped, even with

seating for four.

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Yom seated himself in the front seat on the opposite side from Flink and buckled himself in. He turned to Flink and said, "Better buckle yourself in or you'll wind up plastered to the bulkhead."

"What happened to the internal gravity nullifiers, I thought they were standard on these skysleds?"

"They were found to be too much of a waste of power. Buckled up, please."

Flink was really starting to get tired of the treatment he was getting, but he was smart enough not to make waves. He buckled his shoulder, waist, and chest straps without a word.

Thyo got in the pilot seat and, after buckling himself in and putting on his cerebral control helmet, looked over at Yom. "I wonder what use this guy's gonna be to the Council?" he said, indicating Flink with a wave of his hand.

"Beats me, I don't question the President's orders, even these."

Flink disliked being talked about like he wasn't around. "Maybe she needs someone who's willing to ask questions." he said sarcastically.

This had the desired affect. With a huff, Flink's escorts stopped talking and went back to work.

Flink felt a slight vibration as Thyo started the anti-gravity unites. He felt his stomach fall as the ship lifted from the ground. It was at that moment that he wished the ship had an internal gravity nullifier.

Yom smirked when he glanced back and saw Flink's discomfort. Flink could only hope that both Yom and Thyo were feeling the same way.

Flink looked out the side view port and took one last look at the old cabin, meadow, and encircling Kyo trees that had been his retreat for the past hundred

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years. No, not a retreat, he thought, more like a personal prison.

Then he felt the crushing hold of G force push him into his thrusterseat, as Thyo engaged the thrusters and sent them shooting across the sky toward the city of Khiba Quar, and Flink's destiny.

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Chapter Two

THE HALL OF THE HONORED

Flink was surprised how short the trip in the skysled was taking. It had been less than an hour ago that he'd said his goodbyes to the unstructured beauty of the wilderness. Now he could see the high towers of Khiba Quar from behind the Ibris mountains, fifty miles away.

All during the trip he had sat pondering what kind of trouble would prompt the Council to send for him. The only thing he came up with was that it had to have something to do with what happened a hundred years ago, the incident that caused Tya's death. But he couldn't see how, since the person responsible for the incident, Warliam Nathbak, had been sentenced to spend the rest of his life in a remote work camp in the Tkarta desert.

The thought of Warliam caused a chill to run through Flink. What a tangled tapestry fate can be. he thought, remembering the years of friendship he'd had with Warliam. All the special moments came back to him. But they were easily crushed into insignificance by the thought of a single blast from a rifle.

"How long till we reach Khiba Quar?" he asked, not really interest in the answer, but needing to free himself from his remembrances.

"We'll make city-fall in ten minutes." Thyo said. "Why, you getting anxious to find out why you were taken from your cozy little hovel?"

Flink shook his head in frustration, looked out

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the view port, and was shocked by his reflection. The person looking back at him was a stranger. Now he could almost understand Thyo and Yom's reaction to him. His time away from civilization had taken it's toll. His usual short trimmed hair was now a disarranged heap, hanging down his back. His clean shaved jaw now sported a shaggy beard. His once alert, strong, eyes now looked tired and had bags under them. Oh, the Creator, he thought, I look so old and worn out.

Thankfully, a moment later the skysled flew over the Ibris mountains and Flink's view was filled with the sight of Vevetta II's capital city. He'd forgotten how massive Khiba Quar was, it's boundary stretching across the horizon. It's towers rising so high the tops of them were hidden by the clouds above. The travel tubes of the mass transit system intertwining around the towers like vines in a jungle.

As the skysled moved in closer Flink could see masses of hover craft and skysleds flying between the towers and over smaller buildings below. They reminded him of flying insects.

Maneuvering the skysled into the stream of traffic, Thyo set course for the Eastern part of city. After a few minutes, the skysled approached its destination, the Headquarters for Space/Time Research. The building was small in comparison to the other buildings surrounding it, a mere two hundred stories tall.But Flink knew that the majority of the complex was underground. It's funny, Flink thought, looking at the elliptical shaped building, that this insignificant building is the center for the research and compilation of the histories of all the planets of the known universe.

Thyo flew the skysled around the building to a small hanger on the far side. "Welcome home." he said, with false sentiment.

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Flink ignored him. He knew in a short time he wouldn't have to listen to his mouth. What he had to concentrate on now was what was to come next, the S.T.R. Council.

The skysled slowed down, glided into the hanger, and landed on a large red hexagon painted on the floor. A series of large overhead spotlights illuminated the skysled from above. Technicians scurried like rats out of the shadows and began connecting power cabled to the ship.

Thyo opened the hatch and Flink stepped out, suitcase in hand. Outside, he was greeted by another robed council member, but this time it was a pleasant surprise.

"Kren," he said, with a warm smile, "Kren Sephran.....I haven't seen you since Tya and I came back from Earth. How've you been? How'd your mission to Thrackuron go?"

"Not as well as you and Warliam did on your missions to Earth. I nearly got myself skinned." said the thin, smiley-faced, older looking gentleman before him.

Older looking, Flink recalled, because of a genetic malfunction that caused Kren to start the Slowing much later, about twenty-five years later, than was normal for a Vevettan.

Looking at Kren's long, straight, nose and high cheek bones Flink was always reminded of a joker in a deck of terran playing cards.

"How'd you know I was coming in?" asked Flink, still surprised to see his old friend.

"I'm here to take you to the council chambers." he said, his smile diminishing when he saw the betrayed look on Flink's face.

"You.....all right Kren, what the hell's going on?

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Why the hell did the council send those guerrillas after me?"

As if on cue, Thyo and Yom came out of the ship. They pushed past Flink and his friend. "The President's got a real winner with this one." Thyo said sarcastically to Kren, as he and Yom headed out of the hanger.

Flink shook his head as he watch them leave. Definitely compensating for a lack of something. He thought. Then he turned back to Kren. "Well," he said, "When am I gonna get some answers?"

"You're not gonna get them here, Flink." Kren said, uncharacteristically serious. "You'll have to make your inquiries to the Council when we get there."

"Fine." he said, in frustration. Handing his suitcase to Kren, he started off toward the exit. Kren followed closely behind him.

Flink was surprised how little the Space/Time Research headquarters had changed since the last time he'd been here. He did notice though, as he and Kren walked through the various halls on the way, that they'd added some new exhibits from planets that had been in the process of being researched when he started his hermitage. One of the displays was of torture devices from the planet Kren had been assigned to, Thrackuron.

Then, to Flink's surprise, they entered a large display hall filled with items from his missions to Earth.

"The items you brought from Earth has been

the most popular and longest running displays S.T.R. has ever had." Kren told him, as if reading his mind. "I have to admit I'm a bit jealous."

"Well, I didn't come close to losing my skin over them." Flink said, reminding Kren of his own

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contribution.

"But you can't blame me for being a tad jealous." Kren said, turning to Flink and smiling.

With that, they headed out of the display, turned a corner, and came to a lift pad. After they stepped onto it, Kren touched the foot control and the lift descended.

Flink felt a touch of claustrophobia as the lift shot down the shaft deeper and deeper under Vevetta II's surface. He'd always wondered why the council chambers where two miles underground. It seemed ridiculous since there was no need for security since the council meetings were open to everyone. It also seemed dangerous , since there was a remote possibility of the roof caving in, though this was close to impossible with their present construction technology. Still, underground would be the last place he'd want to be if something happened above.

Then the lift came to a halt, and Flink's mind changed gears. It was not for the better.

A chill came over him, when he saw the gold colored sign on the entryway before him. It read HALL OF THE HONORED. Of all the ways Kren could have taken him to the council chambers he'd had to choose the way that took them through the Hall of the Honored.

He'd heard, before he'd left to start his hermitage, that the S.T.R. had decided to honor Tya's memory with the ultimate honor a council member could achieve, to be immortalized with a synthetic reproduction displayed in the Hall of the Honored. He knew that these where not merely waxwork reproductions, but that these representations where programmed with the memory patterns of the person they were patterned after. This was so scholars could learn about these famous persons lives from their own perspecti

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For Flink this was an added agony. Not only was there the possibility that he might run into what would be essentially to him Tya's reanimated corpse, it was also possible that this thing would remember him

and want to chat. He wasn't sure if his damaged psyche could handle that.

Kren noticed his unease. "You all right, would you like to talk about it?"

"It's nothing." he said, not really meaning it. It was something. It was like walking to your own execution. He wanted to get it over with, yet part of him wanted to hold off just a little longer. He started walking uncertainly towards the entryway.

Inside, Flink's pace quickened. He tried to ignore the synthetic representations standing on pedestals on either side of him. Kren walked a pace behind him, trying to keep up. "You really are in a hurry to get to the council chambers."

Flink ignored him.

He tried to keep his eyes focused on the path through the hall, avoiding looking to either side lest he get the urge to look at the figures to either side of him. He knew he wouldn't be able to bear seeing her face again. He'd thought he'd go mad after she was murdered. The guilt he still felt burned in him like a hot poker.

If only he hadn't tried to be the big hero. If he'd let the security people do their job, she'd still be here to see the exhibit of the things they brought back from Earth. He had been a fool; a self endangering, over dramatic, egotistical fool. And it cost him the most precious thing in his life.

As Flink neared the end of the hall, his eyes, as if having wills of their own locked on the pedestal to his right. There she was, standing before him looking down 22

with a smile on her face. It was the same raven hair. It was the same aquiline features. The same slender form. It was Tya.

Flink was paralyzed. He was rooted to the spot, like his feet were stuck in cement. All he could do is stare at her. He wanted to scream at Kren to drag him away, but he was mute.

Then the figure spoke. "Hello. My name is Tya Yivata. Do you have any questions to asked me? I would be happy to tell you anything you wish to know."

He fumbled for words. "Hello, Tya." was all he could get out.

"Hello, sir. " the representation said politely. "Have you any questions?"

It was then that Flink came to his senses. This thing wasn't Tya. It was some grotesque puppet, a pathetic caricature of the woman he loved.

Anger flare in him. How could the S.T.R. think this travesty was a fitting memorial. He wanted to rip the synthetic impostor apart.

Then Kren came up to him. "Flink," he said, "Flink you all right? You want me to help you out of here?"

"I'm fine, Kren." Flink said. Surprisingly enough he meant it. The figure before him had lost its power over him.

He looked down and saw that there was an inscription on the pedestal. He began to read:

TYA YIVATA

YAC 100018690312 YAC 100018691343

DIED DOING HER DUTY

"Died doing her duty." Flink said out loud.

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"What a crock." Duty had nothing to do with it, he thought, she was just trying to save my sorry ass again. She shouldn't have ran out of the crowd.

"Let's go, Flink, this isn't doing you or the council any good."

Flink didn't give him any argument. He headed to the doorway at the other end of the hall. From there his next stop was the council chamber.

Then, he thought, then I'll get my answers.

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Chapter Three

THE MISSION

None of the people in attendance in the oval council chamber noticed when either Kren or Flink entered. All of them had their attention focused on the presentation being shown in the center of the chamber. Flink stopped in his tracks when he saw the holographic image. Kren bumped into him in the process.

Before them was a holographic recreation of the incident a hundred years before. It showed Warliam Nathbak, Flink's oldest friend, holding the Council hostage in the chamber with a blaster rifle. Laying to the far side of the image were the images of two security guards with gaping blast holes through them. Warliam stood in the center of the chamber waving the blaster around at the council members, making accusations and demands.

"You forced me into this. Why wouldn't you do anything?" he yelled, looking around at the council members with loathing. "There's only one answer, we must save our own people. There's no way we can be sure of our own survival as long as the people of Earth are still a threat!"

To Flink, it was like reenacting his worst nightmare. As he watched, he found himself reliving the thoughts and feelings he experienced as he watched his friend wave the long barrel of the blaster rifle at him and the other people in the council chamber. Though, this time he knew the outcome. This time he knew he wasn't 25

going to be the hero, but the loser. He knew his actions would end one life and ruin two others. He wished to he could change what he was about to see.

As Flink watched, out of the crowd came the image of himself. Ignoring Warliam's threats his image walked right up to Warliam. Warliam pointed the blaster at him. "Don't be mistaken in thinking I would hesitate to kill even you, if the situation arose."

"I don't believe you, Warliam." he said, taking another step forward. "You're trying to save lives, you won't kill anyone."

"I will, Flink." he said, motioning him away with the rifle. "I'll destroy anyone who tries to stop me from saving our people."

"Don't you understand, Warliam, this isn't the way."

"I've tried everything else. They won't listen. If I wait for them it'll be too late."

"Warliam, think about this situation rationally, by your own actions you're sabotaging what you're trying to get done." Flink motioned at the other council members. "You think they're going to listen to anything you have to say now? I don't think so. To them you're just a terrorist, no different than the ones you studied on Earth, trying to force your own way on them.

Oh, in the end, they might tell you what you want to hear, if you're not killed first. But then, when the shock's worn off, and you're out of the picture, they'll do things their own way."

"You're the one who doesn't understand. I'm not letting them go until I have proof everything's been carried out."

"You won't last that long, damn it." Flink stressed. "Sooner or later security'll come in here after you and....."

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"Damn it, Flink, I've had enough of your debating." he said, aiming the rifle between Flink's eyes. "Either you get the fuck over with the others or, so help the Creator, I'll kill you."

With that, Flink hit the rifle barrel with a cross stroke of his right hand. The blaster went off, searing his left shoulder in the process. The impact of the blast knocked him to the floor.

While watching the presentation, Flink's right hand, on reflex, went to his shoulder, where the scar from the blast still remained. Flink wondered why he'd never thought of having it cosmetically regenerated. Maybe, he thought, it was because it would be like trying to pretend the incident never happened, which is impossible.

In the holographic image, Warliam stood over Flink, startled by what had happened.

Flink's assistant, Tya Yivata, came running out

of the crowd toward Warliam and Flink.

"No Tya!" screamed Flink, when he saw her.

Warliam spun around and shot her. Shock registered on his face when he realized what he had done. He dropped the rifle on the floor.

"No!" Flink screamed, when he saw her body crumble to the floor.

Watching the holographic images, Flink wanted to scream with his image. All the pain he had felt at that moment a hundred years ago came rushing back in on him again.

The air in the chamber was stifling hot to him now. He felt like his lungs were going to lock at any moment. He wanted to get away, but found himself unable to move.

In the image he'd managed to get up, using his good arm, and stumbled over to Tya. Kneeling down beside her, unaware of the chaos that had broke out around him, he

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cradled her, with his good arm. Then he began to scream.

The holographic image vanished, leaving only the empty central floor area in its wake.

Sound of people releasing their breath was heard around the oval chamber. Flink took his cue from the others and let out his as well.

"You all right, Flink?" asked Kren, looking over at him. "You look like death warmed over."

He looked over at Kren gave an indication of a smile. What an apt observation. he thought, because that was exactly how he felt. Not only had he had to face a synthetic representation of the woman whose death he blames himself for, but now he had to relive the experience of seeing her die. It was no wonder he looked the way he did.

"Flink Plexaha." came a female voice from the other end of the chamber.

Flink looked to where the voice came from and saw that the President of the Council had noticed him.

Zareth Metk was still as beautiful as he remembered. From her short cut honey-blond hair, which was only just showing an indication of gray, and her piercing green eyes, to her athletically sleek figure, which was not completely hidden under her robes of office, she was still the most enchanting woman he'd ever had the privilege of knowing.

Flink didn't have to remind himself that along with her beauty was strength. Zareth Metk was the driving force of the S.T.R.

And now her attention was on him.

Suddenly all eyes in the council chamber were focused on him. "If you wouldn't mind, Madam President," he said, with respect, " I would prefer that my name not be used

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in association with these proceedings. I feel I've given the Clan Plexaha enough grief."

"So be it." Zareth Metk said. "How may we address you then?"

Flink thought for a moment. "I suggest we use the nickname you, Madam President, gave me when I first returned from Earth, The Traveler."

"I approve." The President of the Council said, barely able to conceal her amusement. "So be it." She turned to her computer record keeping device, " The name of Flink Plexaha is to be erased from the record of these proceedings and ' The Traveler' is herein to be put in it's place. Also The Traveler is to be masked out of all visual records and his voice pattern altered on the record."

The computer acknowledged her orders.

"Thank you, Madam President." the newly dubbed Traveler said, as he and Kren walked down the aisle to the central floor of the chamber. "Why've you called me here?"

"It's to do with Warliam Nathbak."

"I've already worked that out, Madam President, why not get to the point."

"All right, Traveler, we'll make this as quick as possible. You'll need time to clean up and get ready for this mission."

"Mission....what the hell are you talking about?"

"Seven days ago Warliam escaped from the work camp we had him incarcerated in."

"How the hell could that happen. The place is like a fortress. What about security?"

"The Security Council is checking into that." The President informed him.

"Well, then let them clean up this mess. The camp's in the Tkarta desert. It's a

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weeks walk to the nearest water source. He should be easy to find out there. I don't see why you dragged me back here."

"Because Warliam isn't walking the desert. From what the Security Council was able to determine so far, he hid on the weekly supply tram that delivers food and water to the camp." the President said, anxiety in her voice. "Two days ago, he, somehow, got into the display halls in this building and accosted the Guardian of the Halls. He stole two of the displays."

"What displays?" The Traveler asked. He knew Warliam would not chance getting caught if it wasn't something important.

"The prisoner control devices from the planet Centura."

"You're telling me you had operational Centuran mind control devices on display." The Traveler said, amazed.

"We keep them on hand for the Department of Engineering and Technological Research."

"Do you realize what those devices can do in the wrong hands." The Traveler said unable to hold down his outrage.

"We considered them primitive technology, of no significance to our civilization other than as a subject for study." said the President.

The Traveler was surprised at how incredibly nieve he found his people at this moment. The idea of them leaving dangerous instruments out for public view was to him criminal in the extreme.

"Things are worse." The Traveler heard Kren say and turned to him. "He also stoled one of our orbital probe ships......."

"And he's heading to Earth, in the past I would guess." The Traveler finished for him. From the look he got from Kren he knew he was right. "He going to try to

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change that planet's history to avert the Monopolis' eventual conquest of Vevetta." He turned back to the President. " And you think I've got some clue as to what he's planning?"

"You were closer to him than the rest of us." The President pointed out.

"I was against the alteration of the time line." The Traveler countered her. " I figured it would cause more problems than it would solve."

"Still he must have mentioned something to you........some of his ideas." the President pressed.

"He knew I wouldn't approve, so he didn't talk to me about it." The Traveler told her. "Do you have

any idea what time period he's gone to? That might give me something to go on."

"We were able to trace him to the late twentieth century, to be exact, the year 1993." explained Kren.

"Do you have a location to go with that?"

"The part of North America known as California, in an area known as the 'Bay Area'. It's a town called San Mareno." said the President.

"Do you know when he's going to arrive?"

"We can roughly estimate within a week." Kren explained, putting his hand on the Traveler's shoulder. "That's the best we can do, he didn't leave much of a trace."

"He could do anything in that amount of time. That makes things that much harder." The Traveler said. "When does the team leave?"

"There isn't going to be a team." The President told him.

"What?"

"We figured you alone would have a better chance than a large team would." said the President.

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"And how's that?" The Traveler said astonished.

"Just look at the facts." said the President. "He's been your friend since your academy days. You co-worked with him on the Earth research project. Damn it, man, you played chess with the man every chance you got. You even started beating him at it. That tells me you have to know something about how he thinks!"

"I see your point. But you're forgetting something. I have too much of a personal

involvement in this situation." The Traveler pointed out. "As you said he was my friend."

"We took that into consideration." The President said.

"Did you take into consideration that he killed Tya?" The Traveler mentioned. " Or have you forgotten your little show a few minutes ago."

"Are you suggesting you might lose your objectivity and take revenge on him." The

President asked, visibly surprised.

"I'm suggesting it might cloud my thinking, cause me to misjudge situations. It could cost me the mission. There's too much at stake for you risk the future of an entire race on me." The Traveler looked the President straight in the eyes. " I don't need that burden on top of the one I already carry."

"Then you automatically sentence the people of Earth." The President said grimly.

"Are you trying to say that if I don't go nobody will?"

"Correct, unfortunately."

"I can't believe this!" The Traveler exclaimed. "Why?"

"Because I'm not going to waste resources on a large team when a single man could do the job a hundred times better." she said. "There isn't a person

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among us that knows a tenth what you do about Earth."

"But I only studied Earth up to the early twentieth century, Warliam studied the periods after. The information I got about the later twentieth century I got from Warliam. Even that is scraps compared to what I'd need to go after him."

"I can help you in that capacity, Master." came the chirpy reply from the pocket of TheTraveler's paint splattered shirt.

"What was that?" Kren asked, startled, looking where the voice came from.

"Sorry if he startled you. May I introduce my Robotic Information and Formulation

Computer, Rifc for short."

The Traveler took the small, barrel-shaped, robot out of his pocket. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen." said Rifc.

"What does it do?" asked Kren, looking down at Rifc's blue domed head and glowing globe eyes.

"As his name says, he can process information and store it like a regular computer. He can also formulate theories and calculate possible actions. Also, he has the mobility and dexterity of robots a hundred times his size."

"Where did you get it, or did you make it when you were out in the wilderness?" asked Kren.

"Tya and I constructed him before the incident in the council chamber. We thought he might be useful when we returned to Earth. Since then, he's been my companion during my hermitage."

"You see, Traveler," The President said, "you've no excuse for not going on the mission now. With that computer with you there's little chance of you making any misjudgments. As for not having enough information about the time, he can gather the

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information you need."

"You're not going to let me out of this, are you?" The Traveler said, frustrated. "All right, damn you, all right, I'll go on your damned mission. May the Creator damn you for what you're making me do."

Having said that, The Traveler stormed up the aisle and out of the chamber.

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Chapter Four

THE PHOENIX

Kren had decided to give The Traveler a little time to recover after the incident in the council chamber, so he waited until evening to get a location fix. He found out that The Traveler had gone to Overbase, the spiderweb-like orbital complex that covers the outer atmosphere of Vevetta II, to prepare his ship for the journey to Earth.

After taking the next flight to Overbase, Kren headed to the hanger the master computer at the S.T.R. building indicated belonged to The Traveler. It didn't surprise him when he got there that he had to press the announcer six times before he got a response. "Why the hell can't you people leave me alone!"

"Flink, this isn't council business. I wanted to...."

"I said I was to be called 'Traveler' until this is over!"

"All right.....Traveler, can't you let me in." he said, exasperated. "Why let this situation come between our friendship."

After a few moments the hatch opened with a soft humming sound. Kren walked in, letting out a breath when he saw The Traveler. Kren had figured The Traveler would have cleaned up since he'd last seen him in the council chambers but his appearance still was startling. This wasn't the same man he met in the hangar at the S.T.R building that morning, he looked like a new man. He wore a burgundy council robe, curiously without his family-clan medallion. He had cut off his

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beard, but had left his sideburns long. His hair was combed back, the curls chopped just above his shoulders. The only thing that reminded him that this was the same man was the baggy, haunted, look in his eyes. If it wasn't for that and the fact that he'd gained a bit of weight, Kren could almost imagine that the last hundred years hadn't happened.

"What is it, Kren?" said The Traveler irritably,

as he headed over to a nearby table where he'd sat the suitcase he'd brought from the wilderness. "I'm really much too busy to chit chat."

"I thought you might need some help......" he began, but his eyes focused on the ship that was parked just beyond The Traveler. "Oh, the Creator!" The ship was the only interesting thing in the bare hangar. Kren looked over the large, rectangular, vehicle, with its round, Earth-type tires and suspension system. It bore no resemblance to any Vevettan research ship Kren had ever seen.

Then it came to him, he'd seen vehicles of a similar type while scanning through some later-twentieth century video transmissions. He believed the announcers had called them 'RVs or recreational vehicles.

"Where'd you get that?" Kren asked, looking over at The Traveler.

The Traveler looked up from the suitcase , from which he was pulling out a number of small hand-held devices, and glanced over his shoulder at the ship. "The Phoenix?" he looked over at Kren. "Tya and I built her after we returned from Earth."

"Interesting, but why?" Kren asked, taking another look at the ship. "All our research craft have cloaking shields to prevent detection. Why go to all the trouble?"

"The Phoenix is equipted with cloaking shields

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too. But this way I don't have to leave the ship in a secluded location, thus it saves me the time and effort of having to go a long distance to process and store information. I can enter the ship in plain view of the inhabitants and no one's the wiser."

"But didn't you build Rifc to store and process data in the field?" Kren pointed out.

"But you're forgetting Rifc's a small computer. He still has to store much of his information in the ship's data storage unite, through a transmission beam. This might not always be possible." He paused for a moment and turned to look at the ship. "And with the Phoenix I'll be able to keep all my equipment nearby, in case I need them."

He turned to Kren and added, "Isn't that what our old instructors stressed for us to do, be ready for any possible contingency."

"But if I recall, weren't the recreational vehicles

a fad that didn't last past the early twenty first century, when the hover craft became the common mode of transport?"

"Oh, yes.........and they're called mobile homes, by the way." The Traveler corrected him. "But, both vehicles are similar in their basic body configuration." A mischievous gleam in his eyes. "What you probably didn't read in your research is that many owners had their mobile homes converted into hover craft."

"Oh." Kren said, visibly embarrassed by his lack of knowledge.

"Actually, with her wheels retracted and a minimum of alterations, that I can do in a matter of minutes, the Phoenix can be made to look like a standard hover craft."

"Impressive." Kren said, nodding.

"Remember, " The Traveler said, tapping the side

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of his nose, " be prepared."

It was obvious to Kren that The Traveler seemed more relaxed now. He felt quite at ease asking more about the ship. "When'd you get the idea? I mean, was it when you were still studying the early twentieth century, or when?"

The Traveler picked up a cylindrical device out of the suitcase and studied it absently. "Actually, she was Tya's idea. She talked to me about it a little while before we came back. I was just the one who did the design work."

"She's quite an achievement." Kren said, looking over at the Phoenix again. “You were always the one with the creative edge."

"Yeah, well, it didn't help me a hundred years ago. If I'd used a little more creative persuasion Tya might be here today."

"Damn it, man," Kren said, "I understand you're still feeling pain over Tya's death, but you've got to put it out of your mind if you're gonna be of any use on this mission."

"Don't you think I know that. I've been trying for the past hundred years to get rid of it. It just won't go away." he said, turning away from Kren.

"It's not that it won't go away. " Kren said, grabbing him by the shoulder and turning him to face him, "It's that you won't let it go. That's been the problem from the start."

"You think I like having Tya's death on my conscience?" he said, slapping Kren's hand away. "Do you think I like replaying that incident in my head, trying to find another method other than trying to knock that damned rifle out of Warliam's hand and getting shot. Don't you realize that I know if I hadn't tried to be a hero she'd be alive today."

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"Thinking on your feet isn't easy." Kren said. You're bound to make decisions that may seem wrong now, but at the time were the only answer. You can drive yourself mad thinking of different variations of the incident that would have ended better, but that doesn't matter. The dice have been thrown." He put his hand on the Traveler's shoulder. "What matters is the present. Use the past as a lesson. Let it temper your judgment, but don't let it rule it. Maybe this time you'll make the right decisions. You won't know till you role the dice.”

"Now you're starting to sound like one of those old instructors." he said. "Or someone I'd hate to play dice with." The beginnings of a smile creased his face.

"Some of those old fossils did make some sense." Kren said tapping his nose.

Kren saw that his friend was considering what he'd said. He only hoped he'd get rid of some of his demons while he was on Earth. Kren wanted his friend, Flink Plexaha, back, not this damaged soul who called himself The Traveler.

"We'll see." The Traveler said, as he went back to work.

Kren and The Traveler worked silently for a few hours on the equipment in the suitcase. Much of it was new to Kren, but he managed to check and calibrate several of them without a problem.

He wondered how his friend got many of the devices, many of them weren't of Vevettan design, and the only planet he knew his friend had done a research mission on was Earth. He had the urge to ask The Traveler about the devices, but was reluctant remembering what happened when they talked about the ship.

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“What information has Rifc come up with on 1993?" Kren asked. The silence was starting to get to him.

"Nothing helpful." The Traveler said, continuing to clean. "It isn't really an important year. Nothing happens that could remotely help Warliam's cause.”

"But there has to be some reason why he chose that year."

"If there is I'm not seeing it.” The Traveler admitted, in frustration. “It'll be decades before the next world war begins."

"With Warliam in the picture that might be an overestimation." Kren said, his expression serious. “So how does the war begin? Maybe that'll give us a clue.”

“I thought you studied this?” The Traveler said, giving him a surprised look.

“I'm not much into wars.” Kren admitted.

"The events leading up to the war begin when there's a joining together of the Arab Nations under a single leader, a real fanatic, who sees himself as some sort of a new Napoleon or Hitler."

"Oh the Creator, you would think, given the history of that planet, these people would see this coming and nip it at the bud." Kren said, shaking his head.

"They do try, but politics gets in the way. Many of the nations avoid taking the initiative because they don't want to risk their fellows thinking of them as war mongers. Even the United States, because of the way the United Nations regard any direct actions by them, find their hands tied." The Traveler closed his eyes. "The loss of lives and the damage to the planet caused by their inaction will be staggering."

"Have you got any theory about why Warliam chose to land in the California Bay Area?" Kren asked,

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wanting change the subject.

"Well, the only thing I can figure is that the city of San Mareno is near to a major

technological center."

"Which technological center?"

"Does the Silicon Valley ring a bell?" The Traveler said, surprised by Kren's naiveté‚.

"Yeah, but wasn't that just a center for computer technology?"

"Oh Creator, are you out of touch." The Traveler said, shaking his head.

"What can I say, Earth isn't exactly my forte." Kren said, now annoyed. "What am I missing?"

"There was a lot of work being done in the Silicon

Valley on satellite and weapons technology."

"That doesn't give you much to work with."

"You're telling me." The Traveler said. "Hopefully, I'll be able to get a better idea once I get a lock on his position."

"Let's just hope he's not waiting for you when you get there."

"I figure he'll be expecting someone, he's not stupid."

"And what about the Centuran mind control devices?" Kren asked. "How are you gonna protect yourself against that?"

"I went to the archives earlier today and got the specs for a small device the guards on Centura used to counteract the affects of the devices." The Traveler pointed to the back of his neck. "I injected the device under the skin here. I'm sure Warliam has a similar implant. He wouldn't be fooling with those mind control devices without first doing his homework."

The Traveler put the last of his newly adjusted equipment back in the suitcase. Then he looked over at Kren. "I'm not going to underestimate Warliam. I refuse to have the fate

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of Earth on my conscience with Tya's death. I promise you that."

A few moments later, Kren followed as The Traveler carried the suitcase to a hatch on the side of the Phoenix. The Traveler put the palm of his hand against a silver plate to the right of the hatch. The plate glowed for a second, there was a click, and the hatch swung open. Stepping up on the step just below the hatch, The Traveler grabbed the edge of the hatchway and pulled himself inside. Kren followed, but took the step cautiously. "You really went for the detail." he said when he got through the hatch. That was when he got his first look at the interior of the Phoenix.

Kren knew his friend had an eccentric style when it came to planetary research, but that hadn't prepared him for this. The interior walls of the Phoenix were covered with monitors and control boards. All the controls he could see, and probably every control on the ship, were a mix of computer generated touch and printed press keys. From what he could gather, the printed keys were backups, in case of computer failure. He had to admit his friend wasn't taking any chances when it came to the primary controls on his ship. He wondered if the ship also had voice control as well, though he never ventured to put it to the test.

Another thing he noticed about the design of the ship was the stress on function, rather than comfort. There were two backless stools set at each wall control panel. Underneath two of the control panels where fold out cots that, from what he could see, used the stools for support.

Then Kren noticed something that really looked out of place among the control panels and monitors. Sitting on one of the stools was a straw hat. From his

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limited knowledge, he recognized the hat as a Panama, with a bit of a German influence. This appeared prevalent by the pink braided straw hat band and pink straw feather on the left side. Also it seemed to have a narrower brim, which was bent up in the back and on the sides.

"A present from Tya." The Traveler said from behind him. "She had it made for me."

Not wanting to pursue the subject, Kren remained silent. He knew all it would do is cause his friend pain. He turned away from The Traveler's hat and continued his perusal of the ship.

Looking toward the back Kren could see what looked like a small molecular manipulator, for the purpose of reproducing components for repairing the ship, he supposed. Also there was a small food processing unit to the right and a combination waste disposal/toilet, with a pull around curtain, on the left.

To many Vevettans these kinds of controls and living setup would be too primitive even to consider. But to Kren, because he had grown used to living around primitive cultures he studied, it was simplicity used to its advantage.

"Speaking of devices," he said, looking over at The Traveler, who was sitting in one of the two thrusterseats that were in front of the navigation console in the forward section of the ship, "where's Rifc? I haven't seen him all the time I've been here."

"He's been here...." The Traveler said, turning in his seat toward Kren and pointing to the robot, which was sitting in a socket-like holder on the upper right side of the navigation console.

".....gathering information on the cultures and subcultures present in the North American area during

the early 1990's." Rifc finished for him.

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He could see that he'd been right about the navigation console, it too was a mix of computer generated and printed keys. He assumed the reason Rifc's holder was located where it was so Rifc could connect to the navi-computer, and pilot when The Traveler was otherwise occupied.

"Do you really think that's necessary?" Kren said, coming over to stand next to The Traveler, to get a better look at the console. "I mean, I really doubt there'll be much contact with the natives."

"Be ready for all possible contingencies." The Traveler said, looking up at him. "The council may think I can just go down there and get him, but I'm not taking any chances. If I have to, I want to be able to melt into the crowd."

"Master," Rifc interrupted, "we have got our clearance from the base computer."

"Confirm it, Rifc, and tell them I'll be ready momentarily."

"Yes, Master."

"Well, it appears time's caught up with you." Kren said.

“Yeah time.......It's time this got resolved, for both Warliam's and my sake." The Traveler said, getting up out of his thrusterseat and putting his hand on Kren's shoulder. "Time to say goodby, my friend."

"Promise me you'll do anything you have to stop him."

"I'll do my best."

The Traveler invited Kren to stay and watch the launch, which would be a rare pleasure. It was only once every few hundred years a new ship was launched. This would be even more special because the Phoenix was a prototype. Kren could hardly wait.

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Kren left the ship without another word. There was too much left unsaid between him and his friend, and this wasn't the time.

He headed to the observation room, which The Traveler told him was on the left side of the space doors, facing the Phoenix.

He found when he entered that the observation room was small with plain white walls and a large viewing window that gave a wide view of the hangar. In front of the window was a small console, with four small monitors and the same mix of computer touch and printed press key boards that were used on the Phoenix. "Obviously." he said, out loud to himself.

Sitting down at the console, on the backless stool that was provided, Kren waited for the show to begin. He didn't have long to wait.

The anti-gravity unites, underneath the Phoenix hummed as the ship lifted off from the deck and hovered. It's wheels folded and slid inside its body. Metal plates slid in place, covering the wheel compartments. Slowly, the ship started moving toward the space pressure doors at the other end of the hangar.

Kren knew pumps were draining the oxygen from the hangar. In moments the pressure doors would open, and the Phoenix would enter the emptiness of space. He had to see it.

"Give me an external visual of the space doors." Kren said to the console, hoping to the Creator it had voice control. Thankfully, a monitor to his left came to life revealing an angular view of the outer side of the pressure doors, the blackness of the starfield, and the glowing presence of the twin suns Brith and Somat. The doors slowly started to part.

He looked through the viewing window and saw the Phoenix had nearly reached the doors, which were open enough to give him a view of the starfield beyond. Soon,

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the doors opened completely and the ship cruised slowly through them.

Looking down at the monitor, he was caught by the