The Misplaced Mentor: The Adventures of Tremain & Christopher, #4

By Terry Marchion

The veil between dimensions is thinning … 

Tremain, New Earth's premier scientist, is investigating strange incidents occurring all around Capitol City. Windows to other dimensions are popping open and disappearing just as quick. In the middle of all this, he receives some disconcerting news; Marjorie, his friend and mentor, is missing. 

Tremain and his nephew Christopher are torn between colliding realities, finding Marjorie, and a bothersome senate inquiry. 

Can he find what happened to Marjorie before all of reality collapses? 

Fans of Doctor Who and vintage sci-fi would love the Adventures of Tremain & Christopher. Grab your copy now!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Terry Marchion
• Release date: Aug 10, 2018
• ISBN: 9781393365587

Book preview

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

ISBN:  9781393391524

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 longer 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. Lester closed his mouth, which had been hanging open in surprise, and gulped.

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 seemed 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