Wheels by Lorijo Metz Page A

weeks and months afterwards, poured over its contents (as well as any other book on Egyptian hieroglyphics upon which he could lay his hands). He’d searched the Internet, he’d talked to Egyptian experts, but for all the similarity to the writing in the Circolar, he could not find one single clue, with the exception of the style of writing, which linked the Egyptians to the planet Circanthos.
    Another dead end. At least now he knew his old mentor, Revolvos, was alive on Earth but— Concentric, help me— he had no idea where . That was the problem with dream talking, somehow you always seemed to wake up at the most pivotal point in the conversation.
    “I have failed,” Provost lamented, staring at the spot where the pinicolis should have been. “McKenzie will arrive on Circanthos, alone and unguided—right in the center of Tsendi territory.”
    Brushing a hand through his thinning locks, he took a deep breath and focused on the small blue box he’d removed from the filing cabinet; a box much like the one that had housed the pinicolis. “I may die a failure,” he murmured, “but I will not give up!” As if by magic, a keyhole appeared. B.R. Provost inserted the larger of the two keys, and what had once appeared to have been a solid piece of wood, split down the middle and swung open.
    Inside, was a mushroom-shaped object, as un-alien looking as anything could be. Several smaller versions were already in place at various points around the outskirts of Avondale. They’d been there, unobserved, since shortly after his arrival.
    Principal Provost placed the object in front of him. In less than an hour, surely someone would begin to wonder why the students had not come out of his office. Headlines began popping into his mind.
    Missing Students Last Seen in Office of Alien Principal!
Alien Principal’s Body Dissected…
    Great Concentric! He had to do something. Not even Stephanie would cover for a locked door all day.
    Quickly, he reached out with his mind to touch the object—then paused. The disrupters would only work once.
    Slow down! You still have time. First, you need a plan.
    If McKenzie could particle-weave, then she must be at least part Circanthian. He shuddered. This meant, once again his old mentor was responsible. Only Revolvos would do something so arrogant—so impulsive—as to mate with a human. It was the only plausible explanation.
    An image of Stephanie Chantos popped into his mind. He smiled. Not that humans weren’t worthy. He quickly pushed the thought away.
    But why had Revolvos remained on Earth? Love? Surely his mate, whoever she had been, could not still be alive. Revolvos was old, even by Circanthian standards. Was McKenzie a great-granddaughter or a great-great granddaughter? How far back did it go? How many other humans existed that were part Circanthian? Who could particle-weave! He had to do something—and quickly.
    H.G. Wells must have manipulated time and space to travel to Circanthos. Yet, Provost had never been able to locate even the smallest evidence of such technology—apart from a ridiculous book of fiction written by H.G. Wells.
    Provost rolled out from behind his desk and stopped. There remained one other option. Six and a half years ago, he’d built his own cortext. Surely, if he could find Revolvos, they could build another one together. Based upon their ability to communicate via his recent dream, his old mentor was nearby. Was he on his way to Avondale? On his way to see relatives, perhaps? If McKenzie was somehow related to his old mentor, then the best place to begin searching for Revolvos was at the Wu house.
    It seemed he had his plan.
    Giving his eyebrow one last tweak, Provost gazed at the mushroom-shaped disrupter on his desk—the main disrupter node. Three hundred sixty-five days was a long time, but would it be long enough? Time was the enemy.
    Checking that both the blinds and the door were secure, he moved to the center of the room. With mixed feelings,