Wheels (39 page)

“A feather,” said Principal Provost, catching the knife—or what had been the knife. “Brilliant,” he said, giving McKenzie a nod while grabbing the arm of her chair and pulling her forward. “You’re coming with us.”

James, his right hand never once leaving Principal Provost’s shoulder, gave Mallos a shove and watched him plunge into the time disrupted area.

“Careful, James, our bubble is fragile.”

McKenzie, tears streaming down her face, reached out and hugged her dad. “I can’t believe you came for me!”

“Excuse me…” Provost felt awkward having to interrupt their little reunion. Oh, Concentric, help him—now James was crying too! “I’m sorry,” he said, “but we must leave immediately, I have no idea how long the disruption will last.”

“Not yet!”

“McKenzie, sweetie—”

“DAD—no! Not without Abacis and his followers. Wells is going to have them executed.”

“Listen to me,” Provost began, easily falling into the role of Principal. “These are Tsendi. Tsendi are always fighting each other. It is none of our concern.”

McKenzie began backing away.

James gripped his daughter’s hand. “Don’t let go, you’ll fall out of the bubble.”

McKenzie looked around, noticing their odd situation for the first time. “Right,” she said, rolling closer. “What is this? Never mind, I’m not leaving. Abacis and his friends saved Hayes and they would have saved me.”

B.R. Provost wondered, not for the first time, how an alien species, thousands of loonocks ago or longer, could have predicted that a fourteen-year-old Earthling—with a major attitude—would be the one to save his people from extinction. Well, she obviously hadn’t accomplished it. Not yet, anyway. “No,” he said, pulling her forward.

McKenzie reached down and locked her wheels.

“Very well, have it your way. I might not be able to weave us into a time-disrupted area, but I can certainly weave us out.” Principal Provost closed his eyes, took three deep breaths and began to envision a place well known to him, the Vibrona coast, next to the Lapis Sea.

“Uh, Principal Provost,” said James, “I don’t think I can hold on—”

“I-am-not-GOING!” cried McKenzie.

It was no use. Provost opened his eyes. He couldn’t concentrate.

“Look,” said McKenzie. “Help me save Abacis and his friends and I promise…I’ll stay on Circanthos and think of some way to help you get rid of Wells. My great-great-great uncle Wells,” she said pointedly.

“We know,” said James and Principal Provost at the same time.

“You do?”

“I put two and two together and your father recognized the name. Wells must have been caught in my mentor, Petré Revolvos’, portal.”

“Pietas told me about him.”

“He is your great-great grandfather—the reason, most notably, why you are able to particle-weave. But enough of this, we must go—NOW—before the disruptors wear off.”

“At least let me save Abacis,” pleaded McKenzie.

Provost sighed. “All right.” Anything to hasten their departure. Plus, it probably wouldn’t hurt to have a Tsendi on their side. “Point him out.”

Once more, James pushed while Provost weaved. With James’ help, the Tsendi holding the knife to Abacis’ throat stumbled out of their bubble. Abacis blinked his eyes and looked straight at Principal Provost. Then he looked at James and then at McKenzie.

“What is going on?” he asked calmly.

“We’re rescuing you,” said McKenzie.

“And we haven’t much time,” said Principal Provost. “I have no idea how long this field will last. I also have no idea how we’re going to help your friends, but at McKenzie’s insistence, you are now free.”

Abacis nodded. Principal Provost had never seen a Tsendi display such control over his emotions.

“Where are you taking me?” Abacis asked.

“Out of the forest.”

“Not without Hayes,” said McKenzie.

“Nor will I abandon my Tsendi,” said Abacis.

Great Concentric!
Provost sighed.
I should have stayed on Earth, married Stephanie and settled down. Ah well…
“May I at least suggest we remove ourselves from the time field.” He didn’t wait for an answer; he’d had quite enough of being told what to do.

Chapter 48

FBI TRANSCRIPT 21212

Agent Wink Krumm and Stephanie Chantos
Wednesday, June 10th

KRUMM
: It says here you’re representing B.R. Provost in the sale of his house.

CHANTOS
: I am.

KRUMM
: And where, pray tell, is Principal Provost?

CHANTOS
: I don’t know.

KRUMM
: No forwarding address; no anticipated date of return?

CHANTOS
: Principal Provost is donating the proceeds from the sale of his house to science.

KRUMM
: To SCIENCE?

CHANTOS
: Earmarked for some special nano-technology research in the medical field. Anyway, it’s all written down. A wonderful man our Principal Provost, wouldn’t you agree?

KRUMM
: Give my assistant that address on the way out.

CHANTOS
: Where the money is going? That’s easy. It’s all going to Sphaera Technologies. Their new medical division.

KRUMM
: Sphaera…
Technologies
. Of course! Wonderful.

CHANTOS
: You look pale, Agent Krumm.

KRUMM
: Donut, Miss Chantos?

CHANTOS
: What?

KRUMM
: Would you like a donut? For some reason…I feel like eating donuts.

CHANTOS
: Why, thank you. I’ll take mine dipped in chocolate and sprinkled with peanuts.

***

OUT OF THE FRYING PAN

Thursday, March 19th

“
W
ell, well, well…what have we got here?”

McKenzie, her father, Principal Provost and Abacis had emerged from the portal only to find themselves surrounded by Tsendi guards. Outside this cozy circle stood Wells, three more guards and Hayes, once again with a knife to his throat.

“My, my…” said Wells, practically smirking at Principal Provost, “First Pietas, and now you. I’m going to have to have a little talk with Mallos; according to him, you’re deceased. Can’t have Circanthians popping up from the dead every time I turn around, can I? And you—” He turned to McKenzie, “YOU lied to me! My-my-my PRISM…” He looked as though he were going to cry. “My cortext is MISSING!” McKenzie half expected him to start stomping his feet. Instead, he smiled. “No matter. I know just where to find it. You…” he said, pointing to a guard, “Search the girl. Dump her out of that contraption, if necessary.”

The Tsendi guard placed his spear on the ground, hesitated, and then walked over to McKenzie.

“Begin with the satchel.”

Trembling, confused and clearly terrified of her, the guard leaned over as if to look under McKenzie’s wheelchair.

“On the back of her chair—imbecile!” Wells smiled at McKenzie, pleased with himself. “Thought I wouldn’t notice it missing, eh?”

Hayes’ backpack!
McKenzie had forgotten about it. She should have left it with Pietas.

While the guard searched the backpack, holding up Hayes’ things as if they were treasures for the other Tsendi to behold, (Hayes’ eReader, a Snickers bar, a shoelace—ninja turtle trading cards?) Wells turned to McKenzie’s dad and said, “Just as I feared, another human. Either you arrived in a Gate or you, too, have a cortext.”

“I can’t believe you’re my daughter’s great-great-great uncle,” said James.

Meanwhile, McKenzie had closed her eyes, taken three deep breaths and turned the knife against Hayes’ throat into a banana.

Hayes laughed.

“What’s going on?” Wells, who still looked shocked by James’ announcement, had finally noticed that two of his three Tsendi guards were backing away in terror. The guard who’d been holding the knife was hysterical with fear, holding the banana out in front of him as if he’d discovered he was holding a stick of dynamite.

And Hayes continued to laugh, louder and more obnoxiously by the second.

“WHAT-IS-SO-FUNNY, young man?”

“Look!” Hayes pointed at McKenzie.

While Wells was looking at Hayes, Abacis had quickly disarmed two guards. Then, to McKenzie’s surprise, her dad punched the guard who’d been searching Hayes’ backpack. James Wu may not have been much of a match for the powerful Tsendi, but his blow was enough to send the Tsendi reeling, providing just enough time for James to grab the falling spear. Meanwhile, Principal Provost disabled the other two guards, who were quite surprised that instead of spears, they were pointing large purple flowers at their captives. The guards looked at each other, dropped the flowers, and ran screaming into the forest.

The remaining Tsendi were now forehead to ground, kneeling in front of Abacis and her father.

“Now that’s teamwork,” said McKenzie, who’d never seen her dad act so…well, so macho!

Wells turned to run, but Hayes grabbed him, encircling his waist with one arm while drawing a knife to his throat with the other. It was impressive and lucky, too, that the knife McKenzie had turned into a banana had, just in time, turned back into a knife.

“Would you have the boy cut your Advitor’s throat?” said Wells, pointedly to Abacis. “And how do you plan to fight off Mallos and the rest of my guards once the Circanthians’ magic wears off?”

McKenzie moved to a position where she could keep an eye on the forest, the tsoot pit and the area behind Wells. Obviously, not all the Tsendi had been at the match. Come to think of it, she had seen few women and no children. Not a single one!

“Abacis, where are all the Tsendi children?”

Abacis hesitated. His pale Tsendi face turned almost pink. “Tsendi young ones are removed from their mothers at birth and brought up on the other side of the prison, until the Advitor judges them fit to live among us. He personally oversees their education.”

“WHAT?” cried Principal Provost.

“Children are a nuisance,” said Wells. “They’re noisy, troublesome and do not belong in civilized society until such time as they can obey orders. I happened to have trained several capable Tsendi mothers to look after them. In addition, I personally take it upon myself to educate—”

“ENOUGH!” yelled James. “I’m ashamed you’re even
slightly
related to me. And, frankly,” he added, directing this comment to Abacis, “surprised your people tolerate such nonsense.”

“I suppose we always thought the children remained in the trees with their mothers,” murmured Principal Provost, sounding a bit guilty himself.

“I’m not surprised,” said Hayes, shocking everyone with the vehemence in his voice. “Wells knew the Tsendi were addicted to the cobaca froot.” Hayes drew the blade closer to his neck. “He used it to control them. It shouldn’t surprise anyone that Tsendi abandon their children.
That’s
what addicts do.”

There were a few somber seconds of silence, and then Abacis spoke. “We will correct the situation. But, first, we must take care of the Wellsman!” Abacis stepped forward. “Guard them,” he said, pointing to the remaining Tsendi.

“I won’t let you kill him,” said McKenzie.

Abacis picked up an abandoned spear and moved towards Wells.

“YOU put him in power,” she said. “YOU allowed him to lead your people. It’s as much your fault, as it is his.”

Abacis lowered his spear, but made no move to step away.

“Wells isn’t the problem, the cobaca froot is. You have to get rid of it.” McKenzie gestured toward the forest. “You have to get rid of the trees.”

“The roots of the cocombaca trees reach down to the very core of our planet,” said Principal Provost. “Remove the trees and the planet falls apart.”

“Then why not have the Circanthians particle-weave the froot into something else?”

“To particle-weave every piece of cobaca froot hanging in these trees would require the skills of every Circanthian who ever existed,” said Principal Provost.

Abacis turned, leaving Wells to Hayes for the moment. “Cobaca froot is only potent when ripe. And it only ripens during the loon.”

“So, you pick it after the loon?” said McKenzie.

“During.”

“DURING the loon!” Principal Provost sounded shocked. “How do you survive the storms?”

“If we do not harvest during the loon,” Abacis said, “it falls to the ground and is destroyed by the
moscos
.”

“Ahhh, the lethal mustard colored moss,” murmured Hayes, impressing McKenzie, once again, with his knowledge of alien words.

“Which explains why Circanthians rarely came in contact with it,” Principal Provost glared at Wells, “until HE introduced it to us.”

“More important,” said McKenzie, “it means the Tsendi must store it somewhere.”

“In a warehouse of my design,” boasted Wells. “Abacis, if it weren’t for me, you’d still be fighting over cobaca froot. I was the one who thought of even and fair distribution. I was the one who brought peace to your savage ways! These humans don’t care about you.”

“Quiet!” shouted Hayes. “I’ve had enough of you! YOU drugged the Tsendi! You-you-you took their children away from them!”

Wells uttered a pathetic little yelp as a trickle of blood ran down his throat.

“Hayes—don’t!” cried McKenzie. She would have changed the knife into something else, but it seemed important for Hayes to make the decision himself.

Finally, Hayes’ eyes met McKenzie’s and he lowered the knife.

Wells’ hand flew to his throat, but with Hayes’ arm still firmly in place around his waist, he didn’t say a word.

“Good choice,” said Principal Provost, sounding almost fatherly. “Best not to do anything you’d regret.”

McKenzie decided it was time to change the subject. “When was the last loon?”

“In Earth time,” answered Principal Provost, “approximately one month ago.”

“So, if we destroy what they have, the Tsendi won’t have any cobaca froot until the next loon.”

“If there’s one thing history has taught us, is that it’s never a good idea to interfere in another culture’s problems. Your mother and I—”