New secondary character, batting clean up for what happened in the last pages of A Texas Naval Affair. It is with timeslips such as this that I have no choice but to pause and make notes. Lots of notes.

Looks as if I’ve enough segments to make it to Friday. I’m taking today and part of tomorrow to complete my spreadsheet of character ages (as three generations, so far, have been covered in this MS). I also need to get the sketch of the cavern down so I stop using things such as [north?] as placeholders as I have no idea which way they are facing.

Enjoy my content? Buy me a beer!

Asleep for just over four hours, Alicia awoke at a sound.  Her eyes remained shut and she did not move at all.

There it is again, that’s a biped on that path, not something with four legs.  And whoever it is, is not at all trying to mask their sounds.

Her eyes opened.  The light from the lake was still very faint.  I want to look to my left but must not yet move.  I know they are there; I doubt they know I am here.  And, if human, was it a miner who fell without being reported?  Ore wildcatters were in a legal gray zone as much as some of the colonists Reina has allowed in certain parts of Russian territory.  Perhaps his or her team did not want the legal complications of a missing person?

A cough.  Human male.  Less than thirty years old.

I am not yet in any danger, so I will not use the internal command to release more adrenalin and fight.  Coming down from that is painful and dangerous.  Ah!  A silhouette!

About one hundred and seventy-five cm.  Hair lighter than mine past his shoulders.  Unkempt beard.  No suit?  No, no clothes at all.  This man has been down here some time.  He moves slow, but as a human, I’m surprised he hasn’t died from hypoxia.

For whatever reason – certainly not coincidentally – he paused just ahead of her, looking out at the lake.  With his slight turn, Alicia saw what might be a thin spear or fishing pole in his left hand.

Not into battle-mode, she willed just a little adrenalin into her blood.  In an instant, she stood and unsheathed her knife.

“Who are you?” she asked in Russian.  Logical, given where she was and who claimed Tharsis.

The man jerked as if shot and fell forward into the lake, splashing about.

“Oh, hell,” she said, sliding the knife into her belt and kneeling at the water’s edge.  Unlike where she crossed, this drop was precipitous as it was too deep to stand.

“Give me your hand!” she ordered.

“Huh?  What!” English.

“Give me your hand,” she tried again, switching language.

Still holding onto the pole, she noted, he reached with his right.  Shifting herself, she pulled him out and onto the ground to her right.  Alicia stood and moved away two meters.

Now dripping wet, the man seemed, to her eyes, at least a little cleaner.  Wiry; looks like he’s a recent import from Old Home and has lost muscle mass in his arms.  Must walk a lot as his legs look fit.  What was between them caught her attention, too.

“Who…,” he coughed out some water, “who are you?”

“I am Alicia Alvarez, imperial subject.  Native Martian.  By happenstance, I find myself underground with you.  And you are?”

“Imperial what?” He shook his head.  “Oh.  I’m Allen Rupert.  From Texas.”

Impossible!  Alicia stilled her mind.

“Then we are cousins, Allen.  I am the great granddaughter of Empress Faustina,” she said, trying on a fake smile.  “Something is wrong here as you were returned to your family before I was born.  I’ve the terrible fear we are both lost in time.”

“What?” was all could manage to that.  Another shake of his head.  “Look, I don’t know what you just said, but I’ve a hut about a mile that way and can give you food and water.”

“You honor me, a guest in your land.” Now the smile was real as she could see he was confused and being honest.  Too bad he’s a relative, she thought with another look down there.  Aunt Ryland sure had it good.  “Please, lead me.  And, tell me how you came to this place.”