The Clock Winked (The Sagittan Chronicles Book 2) (4 page)

A scream sounded from outside, accented by the sound of
shattering glass.

Bronwyn and Auvek flew to the window. People rushed from
their buildings and into the street. The crowd converged around one, rather
drunken and shirtless, man.

“Is that Uncle Will?” Auvek asked. He pushed open the front
door and ran into the street.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry,” Uncle Will mumbled. He
held one bleeding hand against his bare stomach while he repeatedly slapped his
temple with a flask which he held in the other hand. “Just gotta wake up.
Gonna wake up soon.”

“Mr. Oliphant!” a woman exclaimed. “Are you okay?”

“Uncle Will!” Auvek called, pushing through the cluster that
surrounded him.

“You.”
Uncle Will scowled. “This is
your fault!”

“My fault?”

“You let that blasted monkey out of the room. For two years
he's been hiding in there. I put an electric tripwire across the door so he
could never get out. But you! You let him out!”

“Sir.”
A police officer stood next
to Auvek. “What is the problem here?”

“Him!”
Oliphant exclaimed. “He let
out the monkey! It exploded the windows!”

Auvek looked around. Every single shop window except for
William
Oliphant, bookseller
's had shattered into a thousand pieces. Shards
littered the sidewalks; people lifted their feet to avoid the larger bits.

“The monkey?” the officer looked at Auvek. “Do you know what
he's talking about?”

“Is he okay?” Auvek asked in a concerned manner, carefully
avoiding the question.

The officer shook her head ruefully. “He’s clearly drunk.
Looks like someone installed a security trip line backwards, and then it got
set off. Instead of alerting the authorities, it blasted out and shattered
everyone's windows. We'll have to search the shop.”

Auvek nodded. “Sure! Should I wait for you there?”

“NO!” Uncle Will protested loudly. “No, no, no. It's the
monkey! Kill the monkey! I tried, but I couldn't kill the monkey!”

“You're under arrest,” the police officer interrupted,
slapping a pair of handcuffs on Uncle Will's wrists. “For disturbing the peace,
public insanity and drunkenness, and under suspicion of vandalism on, er,
probably thirty counts.” She turned Uncle Will bodily towards her patrol
vehicle. “Wait outside, kid. I'll be there in a moment.”

Auvek turned back towards the store. Bronwyn stood behind
him.

“Exciting,” she said, grinning.

“Yes, but now I'm going to have to generate enough money to
pay for everyone's glass windows!” Auvek exclaimed. He strode towards the shop,
irritated. “He doesn’t have insurance. Can you believe it? And he installed a
trip wire on the avalanche room specifically for Simon, but he did it
backwards! What kind of idiot can’t even figure out how to install a tripwire?
It’s not like they don’t come with instructions! Instructions, I might add,
that are—”

“What's your name, son?” the officer interrupted from behind
him.

“Auvek Oliphant the thirty-seventh.”
He took a deep breath.

“And I’m Officer Reynolds. What is your relationship to
William Oliphant the thirty-fourth?”

“Nephew.
I'm interning at his
shop.”

“Okay. We've had trouble with Will before. I'm just going to
do a quick check of his shop, see if I can find a tripwire. The way it works is
that he'll get in trouble for installing the tripwire incorrectly and have to
pay out of pocket.”

“But he could lose the shop!” Auvek protested.

“Yes, son, but that's how these things work. Find a lawyer.
You've got a line of them in your family, right?
The, um,
Percivals?”

“Yes,” Auvek replied. “I'll give them a call.”

“Who's this?” Officer Reynolds gestured towards Bronwyn.

“Bronwyn.
A
friend of mine.
She came to help out for the sale today.”

“Very good.
I'll just do my search
and be out of your way. Come with me.”

Officer Reynolds opened the door, with Auvek and Bronwyn
following close behind. They watched as the officer vanished into the
bookcases.

“I should leave now,” Bronwyn said. She held up the book
Simon had given her. “I've been here for over 24 hours. I'll be back soon. I
want to read this first. Keep looking for other legends.”

Auvek nodded. “Don't let anyone nick that. It's expensive.”

Bronwyn smiled, the bell dinged, and she was gone.

“Well, I found the tripwire,” Officer Reynolds said,
emerging from the bookshelf forest. “It was on that wall there, above that pile
of books. You need to do some cleaning around here. It probably was tripped by
that pile of books collapsing. Did that happen recently?”

“Yes ma’am,” Auvek replied.

“Well, he'll still be charged with reckless endangerment or
something similar, and could go to jail if enough people work to get him
charged. At the very least, he will owe a lot of people a lot of money.”

Officer Reynolds pulled a card from her pocket. “Here's my
number, call me if you have any trouble or need anything. Your uncle will be
down at Main Station.”

“Thanks,” Auvek replied, taking the card.

“Have a good day now.” The bell dinged as Officer Reynolds
exited the bookstore.

Simon peeked over the bookshelf. “Raving mad,” he said.
“Your uncle is raving mad.”

“Did you trip that? Nothing exploded when you actually left
the room.”

“No, I didn't. Somebody was back there, climbing over the
books. They left though right after you ran outside. I've known the trip wire
was there. I watched him put it up. It's not particularly useful though, since
not only can I walk under it, but I can see the laser beam. He seems to always
think I swing from the ceiling.”

“Who was back there?”

“I didn't see. I was looking for legends about the clock. By
the time I got back there, you were out of the building and the person was
gone.”

Auvek looked around the room. Books lay open across the
floors and discarded receipts littered every horizontal surface. The mad rush
of customers through the day had left the place in an absolute mess. The events
of the last two days hit him all at once; he felt like he was standing under
the branches of a falling tree.

“What should I do now?” Auvek asked Simon.

“Close out,” he replied. “Start your routine now. I'll be in
the back room.”

“Thanks,” Auvek replied, sitting down at the computer and
flipping on the radio.

“Welcome to
A Quark's
Life
on MRLT!” the radio said, and slowly the night drifted on.

*****

“And so, in conclusion, if the universe is expanding
rapidly, moving faster and faster, stretching, pulling, reaching—my question is
this: where the hell does it think
it's
going? This is
Samson Lebron. Thank you for listening to
A
Quark's Life
on MRLT.” The first few notes of a song began to play as
Samson removed his headphones. He stood, stretched, and strode through the
door.

Outside the radio control room, the staff bustled about
their activities with a strange intensity, their movements a hop and a skip
quicker than usual. Doors slammed. Voices spoke in hushed tones.

“Sam.” Marge appeared behind him holding his usual coffee.
“News from ground control.
Chair Aderick died last night;
Ellis Rizinski was initiated as the new Administrative Chair with Heloise
Mikkelson as his second.”

“Why Rizinski?
He was third in
line.” Samson took a swig from his coffee mug and began to stride towards the
offices.

“Musk and Canderick both declined.”

“Declined.”
Samson frowned.
“Declined?”

“As a result,” Marge continued, “there is rioting in
southern Pomegranate City, in Allegory Plains, and in a few towns along the
Salt River. Officer Holder is concerned that there is more trouble stewing,
that the riots are just a means of distracting the authorities from the real
problems.”

“Get me Holder on the phone first, then Stryker. And
schedule a call to the new Chair Rizinski so I can offer him my condolences.”

“Congratulations would be more appropriate, sir,” Marge
corrected. She stepped out of his office as the door closed behind her.

“I doubt it.” A smile smoothed out the frown squatting on
his forehead. He strode across his sparsely decorated office and gazed out the
window. Amid a cloud of sparkling stars, the planet Sagitta floated in the
empty vacuum of space, a solid ring of dirt and water and trees and
intelligence slowly orbiting the fiery Liera, who at the moment was spitting
licks of flame into the all-consuming darkness of the universe. He could even
see the tiny lights of Pomegranate City on the planet below, which sometimes
looked a bit like stars themselves.

Samson pulled a small instrument out of his pocket and
turned it over in his hands. It was a gift from his brother – a miniature
telescopic lens set inside a pocket camera. He put it up to his eye and slowly
zoomed. The planet was aligned correctly, according to the program on his
computer which handled calculations, but the light of the star was too much,
and he could barely see past the wispy clouds hovering over the Elusion Fields.
He slipped the device into his pocket and contented himself to merely gaze at
the scene visible to his naked eyes.

As head of Meteor II, the space station lackadaisically
orbiting Sagitta, Samson Lebron's duties consisted mainly of drinking coffee,
listening to employee complaints, occasionally knocking the gravity switch “by
accident” so that everything started floating around, and monitoring
communications between Pomegranate City officials and his own staff. He also
aired A Quark's Life twice a week and wrote related blog posts every so often,
but that was just a hobby.

Meteor II served as the main communications base between
Sagitta and their fleet of ships which traveled out into space to gather
intelligence on other civilizations and their star travel abilities, as well as
to provide scientific research on the nature of the supposedly expanding
universe.

“Officer Holder, sir.” Marge's voice interrupted his staring
contest with the planet below.

“Thank you Marge.” He picked up the phone.
“Officer.”

“Lebron.
Just a
heads up.
Chair Rizinski's third order was to initiate the process to
have you replaced. He'll lose, but he's picking sides quickly.”

“Who is the proposed replacement?”

“Arthur Robspar.”

“Ew.”
Samson made a face. “Well,
yes, I think he'll lose. If it looks like he isn't though, I'll step down and
we'll arrange to have me reinstated.
Riots?”

“The riots in the Allegory Plains and Salt River are under
control; Rathead is prolonging the ones in southern Pomegranate City, but we
don't know what for.”

“Damage?”

“Graffiti, two
civilians
dead, some
smashed windows down on Park, and, possibly unrelated—on Main Street, all the
stores’ windows are smashed except Oliphant's. Looks like an improperly
installed security device.”

“Thank you, Holder. Keep me informed.”

“It's my pleasure.”

As Holder hung up, Samson's fingers flew across his
keyboard. OFFICAL BANK OF POMEGRANATE CITY, the screen read.

After bypassing the main security program, leaping over a
few firewalls, and rerouting the system's tracking cookies, he pulled up the
account for an Officer C. S. Holder. He smiled and moved the cursor to the
numbers that indicated the amount contained within the account. He increased
the first three digits by one each. The easiest way to pay people: direct
deposit, log out.

*****

POMEGRANATE
CITY STAR

AN
AUVEK TO WHIP WILLIAM OLIPHANT, BOOKSELLER INTO SHAPE

By
Sauvignon Pincer, journalist

On Wednesday morning,
Pomegranate City woke to some astounding news: a sale at
William Oliphant, bookseller.
For the
first time in nearly two decades, the book-loving community has been invited back
into their dearly loved bookstore, a permanent fixture on Main Avenue since the
founding of Pomegranate City. But to the community's surprise, none other than
Auvek Oliphant, XXXVII of the famed accountants has stepped into the role of
curator.

Though claiming to be
merely an intern, his leadership and firm decision-making has set the business
back on its feet after a series of extremely unfortunate setbacks. He chose not
to reveal what plans he has for the bookstore, but his customers are confident
that he will revitalize this highly respectable establishment.

Rumors abound as to
what happened two years ago to William Oliphant, XXXIII. Citizens describe
flashing lights, interplanetary police, and yellow “do not cross” tape. Words
such as “drugs” and “theft” have crossed the lips of even the most conservative
patrons. After his arrest, rioters, claiming his innocence, attacked the Globe,
the building which holds the Interplanetary Cooperation and Creation Committee.
Even the famed Life Stars got involved. Little is known about his personal
life—a close friend, banker Joe Svek, declined comment, saying only, “he had enough,”
a cryptic statement which probably means the business was not doing well at the
time of his disappearance.

Book lovers have since
mourned his disappearance because, while he certainly did not encourage
customers, he kept his store neat, tidy, and up to the highest standards.
William Oliphant, XXXIV took over after his uncle was carted away to jail, but
his laziness, rude tongue, and uncivil appearance have driven away even the
most loyal of customers and reflected poorly on the family's extensive and revered
history.