The Last Protector (63 page)

Two, not three, because Jape insisted on staying behind in Taupeaquaah. And while Scrornuck knew this was the right decision, leaving his partner unprotected for two weeks made him nervous. “You're sure you'll be all right,” he said, for the third time in as many minutes.

"Relax,” Jape said. “I'll be in the Guest Quarter, and I'll have five Rangers keeping an eye on me.” Of the nine Rangers who'd come to Taupeaquaah for the wedding, five were between assignments and planned to take some R-and-R time in the Guest Quarter. The other four would depart with the caravan, and hop to other time streams somewhere along the road. “What could go wrong?"

Scrornuck could think of a lot of things that could go wrong during two weeks in the Guest Quarter, everything from a Spafuist revival to the support systems going out again. What he feared the most, though, was the chime of Jape's softscroll, assigning them to their next case.

"Anyway,” Jape continued, stifling a yawn, “I'm exhausted. I was up all night, and I spent all day running your dad halfway around the world...” He failed to stifle his next yawn. “All I want right now is to sleep for a day or two. Now get on those horses and get going. You've got parties to attend."

So, the caravan prepared to depart. The drivers climbed into the wagons, the Rangers who were departing shook hands and saluted those who were staying, the people atop the city wall—the whole population of Taupeaquaah, it seemed—waved, and...

Jape's softscroll chimed, an insistent, annoying sound. Oh, great, Scrornuck thought. Right on schedule. Then he noticed it wasn't just Jape's scroll; all the Rangers were digging for their communication devices. As one, they read the messages. As one, they stared in disbelief. Then, to Scrornuck's great surprise, they collapsed into each other's arms, hugging, cheering, even weeping.

"What happened?” Scrornuck asked. Jape, unable to speak, simply handed him the scroll. As Nalia looked over his shoulder, he read:
"Rangers Phelps, O'Connor, Goldstein, Harrison, Davidson, Harakawa, Deldorph, Moussaki, McTavish, Ivanov: Mapping and observations confirm that the settling predicted by theory has happened. Realignments of time streams which have taken place over the past several days have eliminated all impending and potential stream crossings. Therefore, the Project has been completed successfully. Congratulations on a job well done. You may return at your earliest convenience. Signed, Ranger Project Office."
He read the message again, and then read it a third time. “Does this mean what I think it means?” he asked.

Jape nodded. “It's finished,” he said. “After seventeen years, we can finally go home.” He wiped a tear from his eye. “I was beginning to think I'd never see my family again..."

The group hugs went on for a few minutes before being interrupted by another chime, this one coming only from Jape's scroll. Scrornuck read the message. It was very, very short:
"James Peter: Mission accomplished. Thank you."
He looked at Jape and shrugged. “What's that about?"

"Beats me,” Jape said, and turned to rejoin the celebrations. Then he stopped, and turned back very slowly. “Is there a signature line?” he asked.

Scrornuck checked the message. “Yeah,” he said. “It's signed,
Ansel Brautigan."

Jape's jaw dropped, and for a moment his mouth moved silently. Then, in a soft voice full of amazement, he said, “I think I may have to revise my report."

Half an hour later, as the caravan waited, Jape and the other nine Rangers stood at the exact the center of the circle formed by the Standing Stones, preparing to return home for good. “Well,” Jape said, “I guess there's nothing left to say."

"Nothing but good-bye,” Scrornuck said. “It's been a gas, hasn't it?"

"That it has.” Jape wiped the first of many tears from his eye. “I wish I could be in two places at once.” He reached into the pocket of his cape and handed Scrornuck the softscroll. “Stay in touch. Send me pictures of the kids."

"We will,” Scrornuck said.

"I've got a couple gifts for you.” Jape produced two small boxes, and handed Scrornuck the larger of the two. “Don't ask me where I found this."

Scrornuck opened the box. It held a clear plastic ball containing a strange-looking insect with big mandibles, spikes on its legs, a sharp stinger, and colorful butterfly-wings.

"A
scrornuck!"
Nalia said, laughing.

Scrornuck stared at the insect and laughed. “So I really am a bug?"

"You're whatever you need to be,” Jape said. “And that's a most valuable ability. Let this souvenir help you remember.” He handed Scrornuck the other box. “One more. You spent so much time looking for one of these."

Scrornuck opened the box. It contained a purple crystal shot through with golden veils—the control device he'd dug out of the dragon's brain, now dangling from a gold neck-chain.

"I told you carbuncles are just a myth,” Jape said. “But you've indeed found wealth, love, a new home, and maybe even a little wisdom. I think this might be the real thing after all."

"Thanks.” Scrornuck undid the leather string around his neck and handed Jape the shiny pebble that had once indirectly slain a dragon. “This isn't much of a gift, but I want you to have something to remember me by. Besides, I don't think I'll have to slay many dragons here."

Jape nodded and tied the string around his own neck. Then he got out the golden throwing-disc. “A gift for you, Nalia. For when you really need to tire him out."

"Fetch, Fido!” she said with a laugh, tossing the disc a dozen feet. Flashing an ear-to-ear grin, Scrornuck jumped around her and snared the thing before it touched the ground.

One by one, the Rangers marched past Scrornuck and Nalia, shaking hands and wishing them well. Then they formed into three small groups around the ornate horn. Scrornuck turned to face Jape, and snapped off a crisp, respectful salute. “Farewell and good traveling, Ranger Phelps."

Jape stared in mock amazement, grinned broadly and returned the salute. “Goodbye, Mister Saugh—goodbye, Scrornuck, my friend.” He stood on his tiptoes and gave Scrornuck a big bear hug. “Take care of yourself, big guy."

"You, too,” Scrornuck said. “Now click those red shoes together and get out of here before we both start bawling like babies."

Jape stepped into one of the groups. “Artie,” he said, “will you do the honors?” A pudgy Ranger took out his Traveler and dialed in the coordinates, as Rangers in the other two groups did the same. Jape took one last look around, at the shining white walls of Taupeaquaah, the beautiful blue sky, the yellow brick road winding across the meadows, the great circle of Standing Stones, Nalia, and Scrornuck, his last Protector. “Goodbye, friends,” he whispered, and with a wistful smile he gave the signal. As Scrornuck, Nalia, and the multitude atop the wall waved, the air around Jape and the Rangers shimmered, vibrated, and seemed to turn inside out.

A small object flew from the shimmering air just before the Rangers vanished. Scrornuck instinctively reached out and caught it—Jape's Traveler, with a note tucked into its leather belt-loop:

S:

I know it's against regulations, but so what—I figured you might want to visit your dad, or see some of the other themeworlds, or just go ride something with more than one horsepower. Use it wisely—and have fun.

—J.

For a moment, Scrornuck stared at the space where the Rangers had stood. Then, he turned to the caravan and shouted, “Let's get this show on the road!” He helped Nalia onto her horse, opened one of his mount's saddlebags, and started packing Jape's final gifts—and at that moment, while he had both hands occupied, a child darted forward, lifted the edge of his kilt and got a good look underneath. The boy placed one hand over his mouth, one over his eyes, and ran back to his comrades, laughing hysterically. A moment later, the whole group of children ran toward the Gate, giggling.

Scrornuck blushed. Nalia laughed. “We'd better get going,” she said. “By sunset, everybody in town's going to know!"

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Daniel Starr began writing his first novel in 1975, but stopped when he graduated college and got a “real job” in the telecom industry. There he played a small but not totally insignificant role in bringing to market an exotic new technology called “wireless cellular” (you may have heard of it). He also learned much about how people and technology get along—and much more about what happens when they don't. He wrote a lot during this period, but nearly all of it was stamped “COMPANY PROPRIETARY."

In November of 1999, at about four in the morning, he wrote down a short scene so that he could stop running it through his head and get some sleep. His second novel,
The Last Protector
, crystallized around that scene (the scene itself, having served its purpose, did not make it into the book in any recognizable form). His first novel remains unfinished, but from time to time it jumps out of the computer, grabs him by the throat and demands that he write a little more.

Daniel retired from the telecom industry in 2001 and now lives on the banks of the Fox River outside St. Charles, IL. In addition to writing he spends his time paddling his kayak, touring the country by motorcycle, practicing the bagpipes, and substitute-teaching at his local high schools, where he is viewed as the “coolest sub ever."