Episode 1: Rene at the Speed of Sound
The hot pink coyote stalked his way from delapidated building to decapitated building, trying desperately to avoid the security sensors.
This city held so many memories; most of them good, but not for the past decade. It would be nine years ago in a month that this ghost of a town had fallen into the hands of invaders. A single tear rolled down his furry cheek.
There was no time for that now! He could mope when he got home...to Not Home. He had come here for a reason. Why didn't he bring any backup? It was probably his stupid care of others...again. Why didn't trust his friends to handle themselves?
Deftly, he jumped into a window. He heard a few cans knock into eachother in the alley--a bad sign. He held himself still, hoping the sensors didn't see the bright pink of his nearly unclad body against the dark, dull gray of his surroundings.
Fortunately, most machines don't see in color. Why would they need to? This city was theirs, and they had need neither for beauty nor for labels. Still, this canine couldn't help but feel awkward in his current situation.
Once the coast was clear, he ran with all the speed he could muster toward the old junkyard. It was now the factory in which his enemies were manufactured; atop it rested the austere, but somehow audacious, laboratory of his greatest foe.
Hastily, he rummaged through a pile of spare parts. His ears twitched in his excitement. Clang! He was making too much noise; it was too late for stealth. His only hope now was to find what he needed and rush out of Dodge as fast as he could.
There was a flash; the contents of the pile seemed to shift slightly in an instant. No time to dwell on that, he tossed a few gears and tubes in his pack and started running.
He ran though the door and down the street, two mechanical men following close behind. Dang, the fifty pounds of metal must have been slowing him down!
He dashed into an alley; it was a dead end. He hoped to heaven that would not be literal.
One of the robots lifted a hand. "Ra-Nay-Day-Lou-She-En You are the prime target. Surrender and die."
"NEVER!" Rene shouted, drawing his sword from its fleshy sheath in his back. Pointing it toward his foe, he yelled "You'll have to take me alive!"
"I was hoping he'd say that," the second robot said to the first. Turning its head, it said "Ra-Nay-Day-Lou-She-En, today you will be ours."
Robots with personalities? Rene almost choked on the hilarity of the obscene waste of time and energy that would need to be put into such a project.
Rene jabbed at the ankles of the first robot, but his sword barely scratched the paint. His instincts told him to duck the plasma balls coming for him, so he jumped instead.
"You grow sloppy with time, Ra-Nay. Your form is off today." It was the robot on the right, who batted him out of the air with its hand. He felt a distinct cracking as he hit into the wall.
Right. The parts. Dang, those things were killing his back!
Rene gasped once or twice, jumped back, and readied his sword for a spring attack. He lunged at the face plate of the robot that had just struck him.
It was a solid blow, and should have penetrated, but instead it glanced off. His hands were numb from the shock. A quick slap from the first robot and he was disarmed.
As he fell, he felt the weight of the junk he was carrying fall upon him. It really smarted.
The second bot grabbed him by the tail and started dragging him down the street, back toward the factory. He was now weakened and disarmed. It could take weeks to grow a new sword; and that was only if he could get enough calcium in his diet!
He said to himself "Think fast, Rene."
"NO FAST THINKING!" the other robot said, kicking him.
He whispered "Think smart, Rene."
"NO SMART THINKING!" it said, kicking him again. This time it knocked the wind out of him.
He could feel blood dripping out in places. Further, he could see the trail he was leaving as he was dragged along. He was weak enough to zonk out, but didn't do so.
"The master will be so proud of us," the robot dragging him said.
"Yeah," his kick-happy companion replied, "He just might give us a promotion. Or maybe even decide not to recycle us."
They looked exactly like all the other manufactured machine men that the professor had made, but they were smarter. And tougher.
"It was a great idea to pretend like we couldn't prononce his name right. I think it caused him to underestimate our tactical advantages."
"Indeed. Missing him with the gunshot made thrashing him with our own hands all the more satisfactory."
"Speaking of factories, here we are."
"Throw him in the cart; there'll be less friction that way."
Rene grunted as he hit the inside of the old shopping cart. How long ago was there shopping in here? His memory was getting hazy.
"While we're here, let's get a quart of milk, a dozen eggs, and a loaf of bread." This robot was fast becoming his least favorite.
Rene heard a clang, but his eyes were too tired to see what was going on. "We're robots, you dummy! We don't eat toast, even if it is French!"
"Oh yeah. I keep forgetting."
The more casual they became, the less alike their voices sounded. That, or he was just hazy from pain. And, oh, did he ever ache!
He felt the change in G-force from a high speed elevator starting. He felt, more sharply, the jump from it suddenly stopping. He thought he saw a white blur in the corner of his eye, but it was gone when he turned his head.
The doors slid open, but not completely. This lousy place was always in a state of misrepair, ever since the day the invaders came.
A blocky, bulky, some might even say burly, figure sat in a chair on the far side of the room. Impatiently, one metallic hand tapped the cold, hard armrest of its metallic chair.
A dull voice said "What have you brought me this time, you worthless droids?"
The one beside the cart said, in its crackingly high voice, "We've brought Rene the Coyote, you emminence."
Coughing, the shadowy figure stood up. A glint of blue could be seen from his right eye. "I'll believe that when I see it."
The cart moved toward the man as the man did toward to the cart. Rene thought he saw the white thing again, but it was gone.
The face of his old enemy bore down upon him. Reflexively, Rene reached for his bony sword; but it was gone. The bald-faced professor smirked, chuckled, and then coughed.
"It looks like your cockiness finally caught up with you, dog. Robotomizing you will be all the more satisfying for your sixteen years of resistance."
Rene looked straight into his foe's eyes, one natural, the other bionic. His determination outweighed his confusion for a few seconds. He was going to say something smart, but coughed up blood instead.
The old man chuckled until he coughed again. "This is just too rich; you would have had your last words against me, but couldn't spit them out. Just as well; they would probably have been one of your unfunny puns or tiresome catchphrases anyway."
Waving to his slaves, Professor Deathbed said "Get him out of here before I give myself another heart attack."
A jet of white flame streamed through one of the robots, who quickly collapsed. Almost out of nowhere, the white shape appeared again.
This time it stayed long enough for Rene to see what it was: a woman. She was a white-haired wolfess. A little taller than him, but not as stout of build. By her nose and inner ears, he could tell that she was of the arctic sort; white on the outside, black underneath.
"GET HER, YOU DOLT!" The mad professor shouted, beating his chest. His black labcoat fluttered slightly, a sign that he was about to cast a spell.
She jumped over the cart, grabbed him around the middle, and started shoving him into her pouch all in one motion. He could feel her stress, and momentum, as she ran for the elevator while also trying to cram him into a space which, as an adult, he was not made to fit.
The screachy robot almost caught up with them as she hit the down button in the elevator. The door closed its hand off as it reached for them.
She kissed him on the lips, took off his backpack, and grunted as she tried to make him fit. He knew why when she pulled out a Warp Wing.
He felt some tension leave his body as she gave one final heave. Like a house, a tent, or a fridge, she was bigger on the inside than on the outside.
She whispered the secret password to the wing, which he couldn't see anymore. However, he had used one in the past, so he knew what would happen.
After a soft yellow glow, the sound of rushing air, and the smell of pine, they would be back in Not Home. Rene drifted off into sleep.
Curious things, the Warp Wings. They act as one-way teleports that bring a person to Not Home if he says the secret word. The clincher here being 'a person'; each one will only carry a single person, they take weeks to grow, they are consumed upon use, and there are never more than three at a given time.
It was a strange limitation, but you don't look a gift artefact in the mouth. There were many cases where lives had been saved by those things; this was only one of them.
Odd as its one-person rule was, the rule's exemption threw people of the rational sort into a real tizzy. It would bring anyone inside of the person it was warping.
For this reason, most raiding parties contained equal numbers of men and women. What the ladies lacked in weaponry, they made up for carrying capacity.
"He seems a lot softer than usual. Even smashing him with meat tenderizers for several hours shouldn't have weakened him this much." It was the white wolf who had saved him, he was sure of it. The voice sounded perfect for her.
Memories started flooding back. Had she really kissed him...on the LIPS? His ancestors hadn't moved from Ottawa to this new world for him to go around kissing stange women and hiding in their pouches!
Rene started shuffling, trying to climb out. His joints still ached. No fight had ever hurt him this badly before. At last, air! Light! He flopped out onto the floor.
Slowly, he opened his eyes. Yes, she was definitely smaller on the outside. Her pouch had been bigger than most sleeping bags when he was inside of it, but she was clearly smaller than he.
There was a shriek. "This can't be Rene!" It was his old friend, Muna Conejo. He turned, slowly. She was shaking with fear. "How could his hand have come back?"
Rene got to his knees. "What're you talkin' about, Muna? I've never lost a hand."
He turned to the one who had saved him. She was clearly exhausted, probably moreso than he. "Thanks, stranger," he said at length, "without you, I'd have been a goner."
She put her face in her paws and wept.
"How could you forget your own wife?!" Muna chode him.
Wait...sixteen years of resistance, tougher musculature, missing hand, wife...
Yes, he was definitely sent seven years into the future somehow. He felt so naked without his sword.
Standing up, he said in his formal French-Canadian accent "I am Rene d'Lucien, warrior of Not Home Resistance, aged twenty-two."
"Younger Rene," the yellow rabbit pondered, "But then, what could have happened to the coyote we know and love?"
Professor Deathbed looked frantically over his security tapes. He wanted to know what had happened. His right eye flashed its blue flame of impatience once or twice.
"It doesn't make sense. I had him in my grasp, beaten to within 3.2 inches of his life, and still he managed to escape!"
Frustrated, he pounded the keyboard. The footage showed what had gone on in the factory 83 months and a week before. A gray blur rummaged through a pile of junk, then vanished.
"Europa!" he exclaimed, almost not dissatisfied for a second. He wheezed, and the usual tortured expression returned to his face.
He switched between the two days, flipping back and forth. "The stupid mongrel must have triggered some form of timeport. He vanishes one day, then reappears several years later, uninterrupted in his act of petty theft."
The mad scientist stroked his chin, and schemed.
It had been an hour since they had used the Warp Wing. His spine aching, Rene had given up on standing for the time being. Most of their problems had been straightened out by now, so they went (rather slowly) to the town gate.
When Deathbed and his gang had conquered the space colony Dodge, those who could fled to the forest. Their bodies were specially designed to survive in this climate, but their minds were used to the comfort and convienience of civilized life.
As they found one another, they eked out a living from the land, slowly building the village. They named it Not Home, to remind themselves that it was a temporary shelter, not a new settlement.
Rene was in his early teens at the time. He'd been going through upheavals of other sorts, and his weapon was just starting to grow in. Making matters worse, his parents were in the heart of the city when the takeover took place. His older brothers were front-line infantry in His Majesty's Royal Army. They had all either been killed, or worse, robotomized.
Muna awoke him from his musings. "You wanna say something?"
Turning to her, he said "What is there to say?"
The wolf (first name Bekah, maiden name d'Fuze) said demurely "He's not just stronger than you," Rene had to face her, "he's more gentle. You may be a gentleman, but he is a gentle man as well."
There was a knock at the gate, but before anyone could respond, the door flew open.
First, Rene saw the silhouette. It looked a lot like him, but subtly incongruous. The figure stepped forward.
"Did you miss me?" The voice was a little deeper than he'd expected. It was him, he was sure, but with a cowboy hat, a moustache, and a steel claw for his right hand. The confident smirk on his older face made Rene feel uncomfortable.
He wagged his finger at his wife "I told you to wait for me, Becky! We were gonna come back together."
"I saw you get thrashed and taken to the robot factory, so I grabbed you and came back here." she huffed. Her consternation was blaring.
The serious look on his face turned to a grin, then he laughed. "I was just yanking your chain," he said jovially, "I knew that you'd find my younger self sooner or later."
Muna, Becky, and Rene's jaws dropped simultaniously.
Over dinner, they talked up a storm. Stanislaus the Walrus made crayfish gumbo; it was exceptional. Clearly, seven years of practice had turned a good cook into a great one.
The older, more mature version of himself grated on Rene's nerves. "Am I really this annoying?" Rene accidentally asked himself aloud.
"Yes," he replied, winking, "doubtlessly."
"I feel sorry for everyone else having to put up with me, then."
His future wife put her hand on his shoulder, "Don't go about talking like that. It was your upbeat temperment that won my heart. You always made me laugh."
After a few rounds of shared anecdotes, a handful of top-heavy puns, and a pint of beer, conversation took another detour through Serious Lane.
It was Becky that steered them there. "How did you know I'd find your younger self?"
Elder Rene stroked his chin. "I wasn't quite sure until I failed to find him," he said, "because when I came here I was found by...me."
Future Rene explained, in a flashback, how when he had come to the future he was rescued from his opponent by his older self. The future Rene to him had a forlorn look always upon his face, one eye, and a completely mechanical right arm.
He had told his younger self of when he had procrastinated about saving a neighboring village in the mountains from attack; when he had arrived, he found most of the inhabitants dead. Among them, the prettiest woman he had ever seen.
That Rene lived the rest of his life in shame and depression, until he lost his wits in a fight that cost him his arm.
This Rene, taking a chance on futures being mutable, rushed to the mountain village on the day of the attack. He lost his hand in the fight, but saved a dozen lives.
"And as I lead them safely to Not Home," he reminisced, "I formally introduced myself to Becky. We had a whirlwind romance, and were wed within the season."
Muna sighed, "Six years ago; it was such a beautiful wedding."
Smiles shot around the table, as old friends shared happy memories. Rene felt the odd man out, despite knowing one of the trio and BEING another.
He thought about what it would be like to be married. He and she certainly seemed to be on very good terms with eachother. Inevitably, his thoughts turned to a related subject.
"If you've been married so long," he said awkwardly, "why don't I see any children?"
The other Rene's face sank. Becky looked away. Muna tried staring at the ceiling, floor, table, and walls in that order.
Sadness in his voice, the d'Lucien of the now eventually choked out, "I'll tell you in private...later."
Later in fact, he did indeed. Late in the evening, they stood behind his future home.
"I was reckless at the time," the bemoustached coyote said evenly, "and overly eager to share my life full of love with the love of my life."
"I don't see..."
Holding up a hand, the older cut the younger off, "She was full of fire..." he getsured incomprehensibly, "...Once a month, she can make a white flame, over nine thousand degrees hot, that burns for three seconds."
The younger coyote, rubbing a still-aching arm, nodded. "I saw that. She used it to save me."
"Well, when it's in full heat, a huge part of her will is needed to keep it under control."
Looking at his older self, Rene realized the last thing about him that was off: his pants. The warrior wore no pants.
Normally, men wore short pants of the same color as their fur. Those who worked a lot with their hands would wear gloves, those who walked in hostile environs wore shoes or boots. (Additionally, women wore shirts that covered their chests, leaving their pouches exposed.)
Detecting his own realization, the pantless swordsman of Canadian descent continued, "Yes. The night we were wed, we shared the love that our Creator had filled us with. We were on top of the world, but then we crashed,"
"And you burned." he finished for himself, sympathetically. He hugged himself, and cried in sync.
"Our relationship has been strained ever since. Our house feels so...empty."
Without any further words, they went inside and fell asleep.
Rene didn't know how to get home. His future self didn't know either, apparently. "They didn't tell me how it worked," he said, "because they were afraid I might start doing it on purpose. They did, however, indicate that only I could go through time with this method."
If he was going to make the future better, he would need to go back to the past. "Who was it that figured out how to send you?"
"Doctor Zebransky."
"Then let's get him on it."
"Can't."
"Why?"
"He died in this future. Someone else will need to figure out how to fix this."
The only other doctor in Not Home was Muna's dad, a cosmetic surgeon pulled out of retirement by the war and forced into general practice. An old, arthritic rabbit, his hearing was starting to go with his memory. The pain medication he was always prescribing himself had turned his naturally white fur purple.
It was to him that they turned first.
Polishing his glasses, he said distractedly "I remember, back in the summer of '33, I had a guy who wanted a long finger. I said 'what would you want a longer finger for?' and he said that he wanted to turn on his TV without getting up off of his couch. So in the end, I threw in the liposuction for free."
Muna said "Great, daddy, but can you check my friend out?"
"Eh, what's that? You want a red trout? Go fish."
"No, dad, inspect my friend."
"Reflect your hen? What kind of crazy slang you kids are coming up with nowadays!"
"DAD, LOOK AT MY FRIEND."
Rene and Rene walked in. Squinting, Dr. Conejo said "And now my vision's failing, too? Or am I going senile?"
Rene said "Neither. I'm from the past."
The old rabbit said "You can say that again. Why, if it wasn't for your childish pranks, we'd all get a good sight more sleep around here."
The two Renes looked at eachother, and the older one shrugged. The older said to the doctor "Remember that night six years ago? When my house burned down?"
"Who could forget a night like that?" the old man said, "Best patch job I ever did on such short notice. Everything still working okay?"
"See for yourself." the coyote said, pulling down his younger self's pants. Startled, Rene instinctively tried to cover himself. Muna looked away, covering her eyes.
A few minutes later, it dawned on the doctor. "Oh, I see. I never believed in time travel, still not sure if I do now. Are you sure you're not a clone?"
"The only guy with the technology to do that has a strong preference for machines. And, at any rate, you can't clone memories. I remember eight years ago you said that I had to watch my weight."
"I don't remember that," the doctor said, "but it was probably an uneventful visit, and you don't look like you're making it up. I guess I'll have to believe you."
The doctor poked and prodded with various diagnostic tools. His daughter watched, because she needed to know how to carry on the family business. It was too bad that she hadn't taken an interest ten years earlier.
At last, he said "I know what to do!" He jumped in the air and kicked his heels together. Rene heard a snap, a thump, and a crackle.
"Forget your age, doc?"
"Nah, forgot that I'd jumped."
Because there was little paper, the doctor had to keep his plan in his head. Because his memory was failing, he kept on losing it anyway.
After almost a week of starting and re-starting, they'd set up the catapault.
For the third time, the doctor explained the principal. Rolling his eyes, the coyote patiently listened again anyway.
"You see, when you were rummaging through the junk pile, you hit one of the old Powerizer devices. It must have had a little juice in it, because it charged your special hidden strength and warped you through time."
Rene, apparently, could make time the way Becky made fire. He just didn't have as much control or awareness of it.
"You still have some left in you. If we get you to break the sound barrier, you should go back in time."
The older Rene said "I think they did this to me when I was asleep. I woke up with my head in a knothole, one week before the time I'd left."
"I've got better aim than Zebransky did," the old man said "so you should land on the queen's roof."
Turning to the couple, Rene said "I wish I could do something to help you. I empathize with your troubles."
Muna said "Actually, you could..." but was interrupted by Becky cutting the line with a handy knife. Rene flew through the air and disappeared in a flash.
"Not anymore, he can't." the wolfess said, dropping the knife and turning to her mate, "I love you even as you are, and wouldn't hurt you in the past for a little pleasure in the present. Kiss me, you fool!"
Rene didn't say anything, he just kissed her. It was just like doing it for the first time all over again. He didn't even mention that he hadn't figured out whatever the two women had; he just kept on kissing.
Streaks of yellow light flew past Rene. For some reason, sparkles were flying off of him. He heard the ticking of a clock.
He saw a river. He heard a voice inside of his head say "This river is Time. Most drift through it, unaware of its current. Those wise enough to notice rarely have the strength to resist its flow."
"You can swim upstream, and slow time down. You can swim downstream, speeding it up. Three times in your life, you can get out and walk along its edge to actually skip one way or the other."
The river seemed to be stopped right now. Rene swam to the bank and climbed out. "I've gotta go back." he said, "Back to the past. Let this time be my first."
Taking fourtteen paces upstream, the voice indicated that this was his stop, so he jumped in. The stream started flowing again; he was afraid that he might drown, but kept reminding himself that the water was a metaphor.
The dull river was replaced with the familiar sights and smells of Not Home.
Oh, and he hurt again. A catapault had just launched him onto the queen's roof, after all. Pains in his bones that he'd thought healed over the past subjective week returned with a vengeance.
"What's all that racket?" It was the young queen Triantifillia, a red fox, and leader of Not Home. As much as she wanted to be called a princess, she was the only known survivor of Dodge's royal family, making her the de facto leader.
"Sorry, your highness. I just got down from a lousy trip."
She looked up, and saw his face hanging over the edge. "Rene?! When you didn't come back from your trip to Dodge, we'd naturally assumed the worst..."
They'd missed him? That couldn't be good. "How long have I been gone?"
Puzzled, she answered "About a week, maybe ten days."
"Ah, glad I didn't miss by too much." he said, relieved.
He grabbed the edge of the roof and swung in through her window.
"Did you actually get the parts?" She asked, impatiently.
Rene dropped his backpack on the floor, and started going through it. At length, he said "Most of them. I got a little cocky, and wound up having to run from some guardroids."
She rolled her eyes. Coming across some papers, he said "Well, what have we here? It looks like some notes were slipped into my pack when I wasn't looking."
"Notes," she said, curiously, "what kind of notes?"
"They're from Doctor Zebransky."
Arms crossed, she said "He makes a lot of those. What makes these significant?"
Handing one to her, he said "This one has tomorrow's date on it."
Her jaw dropped. Rene dumped the pack on her floor, put it back on, went down the stairs, out her door, and to his own house. There was a grin of satisfaction on his face.
