The Misplaced Mentor

  The Adventures of Tremain & Christopher

  THE MISPLACED MENTOR

  Terry Marchion

  The Misplaced Mentor

  Copyright © 2018 by Terry Marchion

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Cover designed by Danielle Romero Annett @ CoffeeandCharacters.com

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Terry Marchion

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  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing: Aug 2018

  For my family. Without their support, none of this would be possible.

  PROLOGUE

  On a nondescript street in the middle of an unremarkable suburb of Capitol City on New Earth, the rising sun cast its morning rays on an average house. It had the normal complement of doors and windows, which sparkled in the sunlight, and seemed rather cozy and comfortable overall. Its two middle-aged inhabitants, Lester Watkins and his wife Della, lived up to the standards of their little neighborhood, which meant they never strayed from what one would consider ‘normal’. They each went about their lives, not making the slightest ripple in the normal flow of the world about them. Despite this, they were happy.

  On this particular morning, Lester stood on his front stoop as he usually did when on his way to work, coffee cup in his right hand, briefcase handle in his left, having just kissed his wife goodbye.

  He sniffed the morning air, noticing the heady scent of the flowers his wife had planted in their front flower bed, while the early morning breeze riffled the scant few hairs he had left on his head. Luna minor flew by on its rapid circuit of the planet as Lester took a final deep breath and took his first step down his walk towards his autonomous car.

  As he approached, he noticed the dew on the car’s hood sparkling in the morning light.

  Pretty.

  Reaching his car, he set his briefcase down, and dug into his pocket for his key-fob.

  He blinked.

  The car seemed to sparkle and shimmer just a little bit more than normal.

  Lester blinked again, frowning. Maybe he needed more coffee. Taking a long sip, he closed his eyes, holding them closed just a little more as he swallowed the strong, dark liquid.

  He opened his eyes, and was glad he had swallowed first, as he would have spit the coffee right out at the sight.

  His car wasn’t there.

  His street wasn’t there.

  The entire neighborhood wasn’t there.

  What stood in front of him instead, strained his average brain to its fullest.

  The figure stood just where his car door should have been, gaping at Lester with the same expression he felt on his own face. Realizing his mouth hung open, he closed it and gulped loudly.

  It stood on two short, bent legs, wearing no clothes that Lester could see, its body instead being covered in dark hair. The face, aside from the stupefied expression, looked rather like a monkey’s, with large, brown eyes, large ears, and a larger mouth. In its hand, it held a rather thick stick. The top end of the stick held a large mass of a honey-like material, which writhed with insects trapped in the viscous substance. The figure opened its mouth, releasing a long tongue, which lapped at the honey and insects. It retracted its tongue and chewed.

  Lester looked around the creature, not sure exactly what he should do.

  “Where’s my car?” Lester asked.

  The figure before him blinked and jabbered something Lester couldn’t understand. With the hand holding his keys, he scratched his balding pate. The creature mimicked the maneuver. Lester took another sip from his cup.

  The being reached out and wrapped its fingers around Lester’s coffee mug, giving a gentle tug. Lester, still not quite feeling the reality of what was going on, released his hold on his cup. In its place came the stick.

  Lester looked at the mass of insects writhing at the end closest to him, then back at the creature.

  “Um . . . thanks?” he said, in a rather weak voice.

  The being then smiled, showing about a million sharp teeth, then took a sip of coffee. It grimaced and spit it out, then gave a barking laugh.

  Lester wasn’t sure about anything any longer. His average mind had short-circuited. Was he supposed to taste the . . . Oh, no . . . he made a sound, half whimper, half plea for help.

  The scene before him suddenly stuttered and shimmered.

  Lester blinked, disoriented.

  He saw his car once again, no strange being stood in front of him, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. It was a normal, sunny morning, like any other.

  Except for the writhing mass of stuff on a stick he held in his hand.

  His eyes looked back and forth, up and down his street.

  “M-my coffee . . .”

  CHAPTER 1

  The lab doors whooshed closed as Senator Markus entered.

  “Good afternoon, Senator,” said a voice that seemed to come from nowhere. Markus looked around, startled and not a little curious.

  Desmond, Tremain’s longest tenured assistant, ever-present broom in hand, spotted Markus and made his way up to the Senator. Desmond’s hair had finally started to turn gray, and he walked with a slight stoop. Markus guessed his age to be around sixty, but Desmond’s step was light and his bright eyes twinkled in his dark face.

  “Hello, Senator,” he said as he reached the front of the lab, “you looking for Tremain?”

  Markus nodded, and twirled a finger in the air.

  “Um . . . that voice?” he asked, a little sheepish.

  Desmond laughed.

  “That’s Tremain’s newest brain child. It’s an Autonomous Semi-Sentient With Integrated Personality Enhancements.” Desmond made a face. “That’s a mouthful, so we just call him Solomon.”

  “Why Solomon?”

  Desmond pointed to the ceiling.

  “He picked the name. Besides, the acronym wasn’t very appealing.”

  Markus thought a moment. Oh! His eyes widened with the thought, making Desmond laugh once more.

  “Yes, I see that, Solomon it is.”

  “He’s been a pretty good addition to the lab, actually. Takes care of most of the automatic stuff and helps with security for the building.”

  “When did Tremain implement this Solomon?” Markus asked, warming to the idea.

  “Oh lord. He’s been working on this for years. It’s been something of a dream for him. He’d go back and write some code every now and then, but get distracted by something else, then go back and write more. I think Tremain filed the brief with your office some time ago. Solomon just went on-line last week.”

  “Yes, well,” Markus began, “I’ve been a little preoccupied lately.”

  Desmond looked up, an impish grin on his face.

  “Solomon, say Hello to the Senator!”

  “I believe I did so when the Senator walked into the lab. Is the Senator hard of hearing? Shall I increase my volume?”

  Desmond giggled and shook his head. He se
emed to have fun teasing the AI.

  “No, Solomon, he heard you just fine,” looking back to Markus, he said, “He’s learning. Takes him a little to figure out a situation, but he does eventually. You should have heard it when Tremain explained the difference between morning, afternoon and night.”

  “Speaking of Tremain, is he here? We were going to have lunch together.”

  Desmond pointed towards Tremain’s desk.

  “Tremain said he had to rush off with Professor Perlmutter, but he left you something on his desk.”

  Hollis Perlmutter, the Dean of Archeology, had been working on a dig site in search of the Mayflower People, a group of colonists who had gone off on their own, eschewing technology, soon after the colony ship had landed, some few hundred years prior. They had found tons of artifacts, but also evidence of a marked increase in development in their engineering and culture. Hollis must have needed Tremain for something dig related. Markus thanked Desmond and walked over to the desk.

  Tremain was as disorganized as usual, but it seemed he’d made an effort. Most of the papers, folders, readouts, etc, had been pushed aside to make room for a large something under a cloth. Grunting in amusement, Markus whipped the cloth away to find a wrapped sandwich and a note, written by Tremain.

  Markus, please forgive my being late for our lunch date, but I found something I just had to check out with Hollis. No time like the present! I’ve left you a sandwich, shouldn’t be long!! Tremain.

  Markus grunted once again and eyed the sandwich. It did look appetizing. Stomach growling, he sat at Tremain’s desk, unwrapped it, and took a glance around the room. Nobody paid him any notice.

  Shaking his head, he chuckled softly and began to eat.

  ∆ ∆ ∆

  The jungle around the temple teemed with life. Small animals chattered as they rushed up and down the trunks, primates swung from the tree tops as the birds trilled their various songs. Below the tree level sat a narrow river valley with the mountains on one side rising up into the foliage. On the other side, the river flowed out of the rock face, carving a deep chasm in the stone over the centuries. The rushing water was a constant sound along with the wind in the tree tops. At one end of the valley stood an old temple structure, overgrown with vines and plants. Parts of its roof had collapsed some time ago.

  Standing in front of the temple were three people. The tallest of the three, a middle-aged man with tousled brown hair, wearing a lab coat, held a tablet out in front of him and waved it back and forth. Every so often he’d make an adjustment, scratch his head and continue to scan. Standing next to him stood a dark-skinned woman dressed in jeans and a loose-fitting top. Her hair, usually left loose in a huge pouf of curls, was tied back, her curls constrained, but still cascading down her back. She closed her eyes and drank in the sounds of nature around her. The third member of the party, a balding squat man with large sideburns that grew down his cheeks, stood huffing and puffing as caught his breath from the walk up to the temple.

  “Couldn’t we have used your transmitter to get closer?” Hollis gasped as he sat down on a large stone. Pulling out a damp handkerchief, he dabbed at his forehead.

  Tremain, eyes glued to his tablet, used his free hand to wave his friend off.

  “Hollis, part of the thrill of discovery is the effort. Didn’t you tell me that once?”

  The rotund professor grunted in response, not wanting to admit that yes, he did say it . . . a long time ago when he was younger and, frankly, much more fit.

  “Have you picked up anything yet, Tremain?” Alice asked as she moved closer to the scientist. Her accent was exotic, but slight. She moved with a dancer’s grace as she lightly stepped over the cobblestones.

  Tremain’s gaze never left his tablet. The readout showed a series of lines, every so often, one would vibrate and go still again.

  “Not sure what I’m getting. It’s faint, whatever may be causing it, but I’m sure we’re close,” He glanced over towards Alice, “You’re also attuned to this energy signature I’m getting . . . what do you detect?”

  They were in search of lodestones, objects infused with the mental energies from the race of beings that once flourished on the face of New Earth. The beings themselves were long gone, but the stones still existed, full of potential energy. Tremain’s theory was a lodestone may have influenced the development of the Mayflower People, moving them along at a rapid pace. How, he had yet to determine, but he was certain he’d find something. The exact frequency was elusive, however. Alice had a unique talent that allowed her to feel the energies from the lodestones, which prompted her inclusion to this little excursion. She cocked her head as if listening.

  “I’m feeling something coming from inside the temple, as you had surmised,” she pointed at the tablet, “it’s very faint. Try a different frequency.”

  Tremain glanced over at her as he changed the settings on his tablet in single increments … click, click, click …

  “Whatever it is, it is proving to be quite faint, which, I suppose, makes some sort of sense . . . AH!” He gasped in surprise as he picked up a strong signal, “Here we go,” he looked closer at his screen, “well, that explains it, just off the same frequency as brain waves,” he stopped and scratched his chin, “which, now that I think about it, I should have realized, all things considered,” he chuckled to himself, “I must be losing my touch.”

  The three of them, Hollis huffing and puffing as he exerted himself yet again, climbed the stairs which led into the temple. Hollis’ initial crew had given the temple a cursory glance, but, not having found any real artifacts there, had left it to another group to examine. Tremain had built his detector based on the assumption that if a lodestone was indeed involved, the energy would have some sort of frequency which could be detected. Alice and Hollis each lit huge flashlights, which sliced through the gloom of the interior.

  They stood at the entrance to a huge, empty room, the walls having long been coated with mildew and moss. Moss also grew along the floor in the cracks between stones, causing some to crumble. In the center of the room stood the only sort of feature, a stone block, etched with runes and pictographs, surprisingly mildew free. Following his tablet, Tremain rounded upon the block. He waved his tablet in front of the stone a few times, then pointed to it at the same time Alice did the same thing.

  “There!” they said in unison. Tremain glanced over at her, cocking an eyebrow. Alice smiled at him.

  “Don’t be so smug,” Tremain grumbled, “bring your light over here.” He pointed towards one of the stone faces. Alice played the light over the rock, which glinted. The light reflected off a crystal, which gave off a greenish glow as it refracted the light off its inner facets. Giving a gasp of delight, Tremain reached into his lab coat pocket and pulled out a small chisel.

  He worked at the crystal until it popped out into his free hand. Replacing the tool in the seemingly bottomless pocket of his lab coat, he brought his tablet up to scan the stone. The signal came through strong and clear. He held the walnut sized crystal up to the light. It gleamed and sparkled.

  “It’s beautiful,” Alice whispered, mesmerized by the facets, the light from which danced over her features.

  Pulling out a metallic box, Tremain unceremoniously dropped the crystal into it and clamped the lid down.

  “There,” he said, “the lead lining should help contain the energy,” he looked back at the stone block. “It looks as if there are a few more here.” Hollis bustled over, his own chisel in one hand, the flashlight in the other, and went to work. The lead box soon reached capacity with eight of the crystals, each a different hue, each equally lovely.

  “I can’t wait to display these,” Hollis said as he mopped his forehead once again, “my exhibition opens in a few days, you know.”

  Tremain frowned as he put the lead box into his lab coat.

  “I promise you I’ll let you display them just as soon as I can determine how best to contain them.” He put up a restraining hand
as Hollis started to protest, “Hollis, I have no idea how powerful these stones really are. Until we can determine that, we need to keep them in a safe place,” he headed towards the entrance, “and I have a specially designed lockup just for them.”

  As they exited back into the jungle, Hollis, still wiping his forehead, gave in.

  “You’re correct, of course, Tremain,” he said, “let’s hope you can come up with something before opening night.” He turned to the scientist, “You’ll come to opening night, won’t you?”

  Tremain smiled and nodded his head.

  “Of course I will, you silly man. I wouldn’t miss it!”

  Hollis, pleased, chuckled a little.

  “I’ll leave tickets for you at the door,” he said, “bring Christopher too, you both are the reason we discovered all this in the first place!” A few months ago, Tremain and Christopher had visited the dig site. Christopher had stumbled and had discovered a secret entrance into the mountain which had led directly to this valley, where the Mayflower people had lived in abundance.

  “I’ll see if I can scare him up. It seems his new girlfriend has been monopolizing all his time,” Tremain laughed as he said it, “when he’s not in the lab, he’s with her.” Tremain threw up his hands. “Women.”

  Alice gave him a playful jab on the arm.

  “Ow! What was that for?” Tremain asked, rubbing his shoulder.

  “For being an idiot,” she said, grinning.

  CHAPTER 2

  “Strike One!” Celeste called to Christopher from the pitcher’s mound. He stood at home plate, wooden bat in hand. They’d been at this for hours. In return for helping her with math and science, Celeste had promised Christopher she’d help him learn sports. He wasn’t very good. His swing was off and he really was having a hard time connecting with the ball. It was just physics, he kept saying to himself, but he also knew he wasn’t any good at sports. That didn’t stop him from trying, though. On his wrist sat his new roll-up tablet. It played a continuous list of music they could hear on wireless ear buds. He could unroll his tablet and have it rigid, but he preferred it to be wrapped around his wrist. As his uncle’s newest intern, Christopher had been involved in the design of both new gadgets.