Grandfather's Quest copyright ©2001 by Peter W. Prellwitz All Rights Reserved.

Prologue

The Phoenix Gazette

Saturday, August 15, 2415

Nobel Prize Winner Hundar Knowler dies at 91.

UPP - Searsport, Maine Province

Family retainer Stanworth Davis reported yesterday that Mariner Hundar Knowler died of respiratory failure at his home on the evening of the 13th. Hundar Knowler was the last known living Pisces. He was 91.

Hundar Knowler came to prominence in 2359 when the Pisces Congress announced him to the surface world as the Pisces’ new Mariner, that society’s highest office. Spending more time above the water than any of his fifteen predecessors, Hundar Knowler quickly established himself as the voice of reason in world politics just as the Martian crises was reaching a head. He is traditionally credited with preventing war between Mars and Earth when the Martian Vicar was assassinated in the World Seat chambers in October of 2372. Though war did break out in 2373, Hundar Knowler was nonetheless named that year’s recipient of the Nobel Peace Prize, only the third Nobel prize awarded to a Pisces.

Despite the destruction of Atlantis by the Rock in 2374 and the following years of genocide on the remaining Pisces, Knowler remained active and visible in world politics. (editor’s note: The Pisces had no known name for their capital city located about 150 kilometers southeast of New York’s Long Island. As a result it was commonly known as Atlantis by non-Pisces humans.) He and a coalition of moderates in the Seat bartered an uneasy truce with Mars in 2378, but it never fully took hold and full war again broke out between Earth and Mars in 2386.

After the conclusion of the Terran/Martian Wars in 2389, Knowler and his family retired to Searsport, deep in the Maine wilderness. Married in 2366 to Janine Wayhaven - a non-Pisces human - they had three children; Everett (2368-2397), Katherine (2371-2397), and an unnamed boy who died at birth in 2375. Janine died in 2401 at the age of 72.

Though he remained in seclusion, Hundar Knowler was an outspoken opponent of NATech’s growing involvement in the World Seat. Until his death, he maintained this increasingly unpopular political stance.

"Only by speaking the unbreathable can resolution be made," he was quoted in a rare interview, given in 2409. "The salt of our children has been removed by the wounds of our evil peace, and the quiet dark cries for our deeds not committed."

Hundar Knowler is preceded in death by his wife, his three children, and his race. He is survived by a granddaughter, Deborah Mariner; only daughter of his son Everett. She is his only known relative and ward from 2397 until his death. She is 18.

Funeral services are private and no details are to be released. In lieu of salt crystal (a traditional Pisces gift of mourning) or flowers, mourners are encouraged to make a contribution to the Icecap Preservation Fund.

#

The Denver Post

Saturday, August 15, 2415

Hundar Knowler dead at 91

NP - Maine Wilderness Region

NATech dissident and controversial activist Hundar Knowler is reported as having died on Thursday evening. Cause of death was respiratory failure, a common occurrence among water-breathing people. Knowler was its last known representative.

Knowler was named Mariner by the Pisces Congress in the mid-24th Century. Eschewing his domestic duties in favor of the world stage, Knowler quickly became a political fixture at the World Seat in Sydney, advocating a policy of appeasement to the Martian government. Ironically, the same Martian society that he defended later destroyed his home city Atlantis during their unprovoked asteroid attack on Earth in 2374.

Knowler remained in fringe politics for the remainder of his life, speaking out frequently in his meandering Piscean dialect.

Knowler was married and had three children, all of whom precede him in death. He is said to have a surviving granddaughter who remains in seclusion at the Knowler Mansion, about 150 kilometers north of the New York Glasslands.

Monday, November 16th, 2415

The fourth one was the worst yet.

"Hey, Deborah!" Chrissy shouted over the dull murmur of the market place. The noise didn’t justify her yelling so loud. That she was Chrissy did.

I looked away from the lady who was carefully painting my nails and toward my best friend. We’d known each other for years, so I’d long since gotten used to her attracting attention. I was convinced she did it to draw that attention away from me.

"Over here!" I yelled back, though not as loud. "What did you find?"
Before she could answer, the lady firmly tugged my hand.

"Ma’am," she reminded me for the fifth time, "this Sofglo permeate looks best if the user remains still during its application." She looked at me sternly. "Quite still."

"Sorry," I replied sheepishly. She was a Bloomingdale’s assistant and proud of it. While I was her customer, she would serve me only on Bloomingdale’s terms. I kind of liked it that way. She nodded and returned to applying the Sofglo.

"Scan this!" Chrissy stepped beside me and showed me a long, slim nightgown, shimmering with each movement and smelling of sweetest pine. I scrunched my face.

"That’s definitely not you, Chrissy."

"Ma’am!"

"Sorry."

Chrissy laughed and opened it against my back. "Goose. It’s for you! Happy nineteenth from me to you!" She kissed me on the neck, just in front of my gill.

"Chrissy!" I complained weakly. I didn’t want to get the assistant mad at me. Too late.

"Perhaps you two ladies would prefer a more robust venue for your shopping." She paused. "Might I suggest a tractor pull?"

We laughed, not at all bothered. We got this a lot.

"No, thanks," I said, still laughing. "I always come to Bloomingdale’s when I’m in Edmonton." I inspected my fingernails, then gasped. Gentle swirls of softest light drifted in and out of a myriad of colors. Living art. "This is fantastic!"

I showed them to Chrissy and she nodded dumbly, transfixed by the undulating waves of light and color.

Satisfied I’d stunned her sufficiently, I smiled back at the assistant. "This is wonderful! I’ll take a half dozen bottles, please."

She blinked.

"Each bottle sells for twelve hundred credits."

"Okay. I’ll take a dozen then. They’ll make great presents." I leaned forward to the retreg and it scanned my retinal patterns. I held very still, knowing retregs often struggled to read my oh-so-pale blue-gray eyes.

Very doubtful as to my credit, she nonetheless submitted the scan request. She smiled at me, a look of tolerance on her face. She had pegged me as a tourist pretending on the rich side. Chrissy and I exchanged private smirks. The retreg pinged softly.

"It appears you are from the Eastern Wildlands," she offered with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes. Maine, to be precise."

"Name?"

"Deborah Mariner."

"Thank you. It will only be..." Her face went from politely bored to terrified in a heartbeat. She screamed, looking beyond me.

Not again! I spun around quickly and moved to my right, bringing my left hand up and ready to defend or attack.

It was a man. He had a black head of hair and equally black beard. He had on him the smell of the sea, but it was polluted. He was charging me.

"Mongoloid aberration!" he shouted, drawing a knife.

I slipped to his side and smacked him on the back of the head. Not hard, just enough to let him finish the trip into the cosmetics table.

He and the cosmetics crashed to the floor, and I winced. I should probably pay for that. He had trouble getting to his feet, so I took a moment to find Chrissy.

She had faded into the gathering crowd. Good. She was human and blended well with the others. She always wanted to help me when things like this happened, but knew her disappearing was the best thing to do. It let me focus.

A focus I had let slip. A guttural snort brought me back to the task at hand. The maniac, covered in bright pinks and reds and smelling of roses, was charging again.

His knife flashed from side to side, threatening to disembowel me. I couldn’t back up without endangering the people, so I vaulted lightly into the air. He passed under me and I tugged his shirt back. I’m fairly tall, but slim, so I don’t look to be strong. My ancestry put the lie to that.

He jerked back like a fish on a hook and crashed to the floor. Using his mass for a counterweight, I stopped my forward movement and landed over him, my foot on his throat.

He writhed under my foot, his arm slashing back and forth. A startled - frightened? - gasp came from my audience as they watched him vainly try to cut my legs. They saw only a blur as I moved and replaced each leg, dodging the knife as easily as I dodged the razor sharp coral of a reef in the darkest waters.

I needed to end this, so I applied more pressure to his throat.

"I can snap your neck right now," I said quietly, "And no court in the country would prosecute me." Then with an even quieter voice, I added, "And since you know who I am, you know that I will."

He stared at me with seething hatred, a hatred only expressed by racists, and nodded. I relaxed slightly. Maybe I could avoid a mess as bad as the last time. That one had no... A scream. He’d flipped the knife in his hand and thrown it at the crowd.

I dove at the knife, seeing it move through the air. One step. Two. My left hand shot out and pulled it from its flight. Sliding to the floor to avoid running into a well dressed woman frozen in terror, I spun around and jammed the knife into the floor, braking hard. That bastard!

I rose quickly, but a new problem had reared up. He had cleared a gun from his jacket and was bringing it to bear. I moved to my left slowly. If I moved too fast, he’d panic and begin firing indiscriminately.

He didn’t even stop to make a speech or gloat or anything. He simply pulled the trigger.

There was a loud explosion and I heard the slug whip by my head as I jerked to my right. It ricocheted against something and whined off in a different direction. He saw his mistake and lowered his aim to my body. I tensed, hoping I could move faster than I ever had. For a second, the scene was utterly motionless. The hunter enjoying his moment, the prey preparing her defense, the onlookers frozen by the spectacle of life’s end.

A massive hand thrust from the crowd and clamped onto the maniac’s gun hand. The gun fired, accompanied by a splintering sound. Whether from the floor boards or the gunman's wrist, I didn't know. I did know that this fight was over. Stanworth had arrived.

He stepped clear of the crowd, twisting the man’s arm grotesquely over his own shoulder. He screamed, but not in anger. Stanworth looked impassively into the man’s eyes.

"Miss Mariner told you of your precarious legal situation, no?" He twisted the man’s arm harder, threatening to tear it free. "I’ll take your scream as a yes. A mistake, friend." He shook his head sadly. "I am her protector."

Stanworth released the man’s arm and seized his throat. Moving his great mass in a single fluid motion, with one arm he spun the man over his head and smashed him to the floor. He hit full on his back and choked out a wail of pain. Stanworth pushed his arm down and the man’s neck snapped. It was over.

Silence and shock hung over the scene. Stanworth calmly searched the man for identification. There came a quiet ding from the retreg, the only undamaged part of the counter. I’d been approved for the purchase.

Like a starter’s gun, the ding signaled everyone to start talking. Mainly asking questions of me.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, I’m..."

"Do you know this man?"

"No, I’ve never seen him bef..."

"How did you move so fast?"

"Well, I really don’t want..."

"What did he call you?"

"Ummmm..."

"Are you a Pisces?"

That last question turned off the switch the retreg had turned on. They all stared at me, as if seeing me for the first time. As the two races were fairly similar, it was likely.

I was taller than most women, and thin. My eyes were very pale, and my fingers were half again as long as a human’s. My hair looked normal - a trait from my human mother - but I grew it just long enough to cover the gills on each side of my neck. I wore shoes, preferring them over sandals when in public, because they hid the webbing.

The crowd pressed in closer to look. I felt red creeping up my neck. This had happened before, but only rarely. I’d led a fairly quiet life so far. Quiet in the public eye, that is.

"I know you," someone announced from within the curious mass. "You’re Deborah Mariner, Hundar Knowler’s granddaughter!"

This started a new surge of babbling. I heard most of the comments, some true, others not. I could turn into a mermaid. I had inherited the riches of the now extinct Pisces race. I lived on a diet of fish and plankton. I could speak to all aquatic mammals. My life was extremely private. Though only one-quarter Pisces, I was supposed to have all the traits of a full Pisces. I had been preserved by the race to begin mothering it again.

"What?" I said at the last one. I’d not heard that one before. "That’s ridiculous! I..."

"Miss Mariner would prefer her privacy now," Stanworth boomed in a voice that was quiet, yet shook people to the bottoms of their feet. When he spoke like that, not even complete - and completely rude - strangers could argue. He turned toward me, speaking in the same deep baritone, but so softly it reminded me of a warm, safe fire. Despite my height, he was taller, standing two meters to my one point eight.

"I’ll take care of this, Miss Deborah," he said for the umpteenth time in my life. "You and Miss Chrissy head back to the cottage."

"Did you see where Chrissy went?"

"She’s waiting for you as planned."

"Okay." I looked around at the mess. "I had placed an order. And I suppose I should pay for the damage that we..."

"I’ll see to it."

"Thanks, Stanworth." I stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. "You’re the best!"

He blushed and rubbed his cheek.

I turned to the crowd and walked directly at them, using the Pisces walk of floating grace. Other than my Grandfather and myself, our race was three decades dead, my parents and aunt having been murdered while I was an infant. Yet even today it was known that one never touched a Pisces, nor impeded her progress. I acknowledged their action with a bow that sent a ripple of gasps through the crowd. One old timer made eye contact with me and bowed. I flexed my gills slightly to show him satisfaction in his respect.

"May your children breathe only the sweetest of waters," he said quietly as I passed.

I stopped for a moment and looked at him. He knew the language! How glorious it sounded from an unknown friend!

"My children will rejoice with yours that we have met this day," I replied. "May the foundation of your children’s lives be safe, breathable and complete."

He bowed deeper and I continued out of the market place. Bloomingdale’s was in a protected outdoor plaza, but was fortunately at the end, so I needed to maintain the walk for only a hundred meters. Once out of eyesight, I broke into a most un-Pisces like run. I loved acting and being Pisces, but it did lead to a lot of stares.

I headed for our spot, two blocks over and five up. Whenever we traveled together - which was always - we selected a place to rendezvous in case we were separated or I had to deal with a situation. This was the fourth such "situation" in the past two weeks.

Our spot this time was an ancient establishment on 81st Avenue named Von’s. They claimed to have been in the same location since the twentieth century. The deep, heady scent of the wood that made up the bar and many of the furnishings and walls certainly bore out that claim.

Chrissy was at the bar, sitting on the second-last stool at the end of the bar, anxiously looking at the doorway. She smiled and visibly relaxed when I stepped through. I smiled at her concern and took the stool she’d held for me. As I sat down, I blew lightly in her ear.

"Worried?"

"I always am when something like this happens," she said frankly. "You know that. I know it’s part of the package, but it’s something I could do without."

"Sorry."

She put her hand on mine and squeezed it.

"I don’t blame you, Deborah. And I don’t blame who you are. I only wish." She patted my hand and motioned to the bartender. "Listen, this place has the best and freshest Alaskan King crab this far east of the Pacific. Hungry?"

I perked up. The rumor of my eating exclusively plankton and fish was way wrong, but fresh seafood was my favorite.

"Definitely! Are you paying?" I asked innocently.

"Nope. You are. I just spent a bunch on your birthday present." She pointed to the bag on the floor and laughed. "I was worried, but not so much that I couldn’t buy this on the way out."

*    *    *

The sun had set and dusk was nearly night when we left the restaurant. It was only four-thirty in the afternoon, but night came quickly to Edmonton in the late fall.

We walked hand in hand up and down the streets of Edmonton. Though it had once boasted a population over two million, emigration to newly opened planets had cut down all of Earth’s population. And a near miss from an asteroid during the Terran/Martian Wars only hastened the departure of many. Today, a mere twenty-six years after the Wars, Edmonton was Canada’s third most populace city with 125,000 souls.

Not that that was a bad thing. Those who stayed were the hardiest. They shrugged off the turn of times, quickly stripped down the unneeded buildings and streets, and carried on with life, appreciating it just that much more. That was why it was my favorite city. The event at Bloomington’s not withstanding, they let me be myself and didn’t pass judgment.

"Pretty tonight, isn’t it?" Chrissy asked, knowing how I loved the dark nights and cold air.

"It’s wonderful!" I sighed, holding her hand tighter.

"You’re sure you’re not cold? You’ve only on your windbreaker."

"What a worry wart!" I teased. "I’m fine, Chrissy. You know cold doesn’t affect me as much."

She chuckled. "Don’t say that too loud, love. You’ll get another rumor started. ‘She’s cold-blooded.’"

I laughed with her. "I’ll put that next to the ‘mother of the new Pisces race’ one."

"No!" she gasped. "Someone actually said that?"

"Yes. At Bloomingdale’s."

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You’re not seeing someone on the side are you?" She continued frowning sternly, then burst out laughing.

"Oh, yes," I admitted. "I’ve a stable of men back home." I hugged her. "Somehow, I don’t think ‘mom’ will ever be among my achievements."

The next three hours skipped away with our admiring the city, looking in craft shops and just being together. Eventually, the freezing temperature left Chrissy too cold to enjoy the evening outside, so we walked to our chalet on the edge of the Northern Saskatchewan River. Still a kilometer away, we could see it was dark, which meant Stanworth hadn’t gotten back yet.

"Stanworth?" I said into the air while Chrissy clung to me, shivering slightly. There was a barely audible click in my ear as the search routines located him.

"Yes, Miss Deborah?" came his reassuring voice. I touched the comlink on my collar and opened the conversation so Chrissy could listen in.

"Are you all right?"

"Hi, Stanworth! Achoo!"

"Hello, Miss Chrissy. Bless you. Yes, I’m fine, Miss Deborah. The police have a number of questions about the incident but are not too concerned about charging either of us. Wait a moment, please." There was a soft murmur of voices, then Stanworth spoke again. "Apparently the man had something of a reputation for hate crimes."

"You mean other than Pisces?"

A pause.

"I wouldn’t worry about..."

"You mean other than Pisces?" I repeated.

I heard a soft swearing. Stanworth was a best friend and an incredible servant - though that hardly seemed a comprehensive enough word - but sometimes he overprotected me.

Finally, he sighed. "No. He’s only targeted your race in the past, Miss. He assaulted your grandfather eight years ago, on one of his rare travels."

"I remember Grandfather telling me about that when I was eleven," I nodded. "It seemed so unreal at the time." It was my turn to sigh. "May his children find the peace denied him."

"You are so much your grandfather," he said in a near whisper. "I will tend to this. You tend to Miss Chrissy." He raised his voice a little. "Miss Chrissy?"

"Yeah, Stanworth?" Chrissy replied between shivers.

"Your blend of chocolate is in the third cupboard to the right of the cooling field. Do not boil the water."

"Thanks, Stanworth!" She sneezed again.

"You’re welcome. Miss Deborah, I expect you and Miss Chrissy will want your privacy tonight?" I looked at her and she nodded.

"Yes."

"Very good. I’ll see you two in the morning then. Waffles with strawberries in cream, and sausage for breakfast."

"You’ll get me fat!" I laughed. "Good night, Stanworth."

"Good night, Miss Deborah." A click and he was gone.

Our talk had lasted all the way to the front steps of the chalet. I opened the front door, pushing my palm against the ID plate. The lights came on and a gentle splashing of ocean breaking on rocks kissed the air. I pushed the door closed with my foot and led Chrissy upstairs to our bedroom and private bath. It was good to be home.

*    *    *

"Child’s child."

Soothing. Quiet. The serenity of deep tides tugging me along in warm waters.

"Child’s child."

The warm currents carried me in soft caresses of breathable love. With sleepy eyes, I was the dark sea, reassuring me, holding me close.

"Child’s child." The voice never lost patience. It was as eternal as the sea.

I opened my eyes further and saw a twinkle of light in the deepest black of the ocean. I was looking at Darkness Keep - called Atlantis by air breathers - the underwater city of my people.

"Child’s child."

"Grandfather?" I asked hopefully.

"I am here. You are here. Discussion is needful."

I bowed. "May the breathable remain so. Lay foundation."

"The Groundfather. That which is unbreathable. The Purpose." he stated simply. Pisces speech was quite different from other languages. It was to the point yet remained eloquent.

"Foundation is laid," I replied with thanks. "Discussion is needful. Begin construction."

"Only my child’s child carries the Purpose. Only my child’s child knows the unbreathable. Only my child’s child knows the Groundfather."

"Three twenty-six," I agreed.

"Are these in you, child’s child? Are they of you?"

"Without the knowledge of the unbreathable, I am not Pisces," I said. "Without the knowledge of the Groundfather, I am not Pisces. Without the Purpose, I am not Pisces." I took a deep breath of clear, icy water and let the needles of refreshment flood into my lungs and body. "I am your child’s child. I am Pisces."

He said nothing, but his happiness and love poured over and through me, replacing the brisk cold with soothing warmth.

"Three twenty-six," he murmured with soul deep peace.

"Continue construction," I urged.

"The path is laid," he said clearly, knowing our time was short. Oh so short! "Construction continues. Take that path which you know to be breathable. Take the path I have followed and which is now calling for you."

"Three twenty-six," I said hesitantly, not knowing what he was telling me but trusting I would.

"You are my child’s child," he said proudly. His voice was fading back to Darkness Keep, far out of my reach. "You continue my legacy. You continue my quest. You are my child."

"Grandfather!" I pleaded.

"I am Hundar Knowler. I am Ebbing Tide. You are Deborah Mariner. You are Promise Tide. We are Pisces."

"Grandfather..."

*    *    *

"Promise?"

I stirred. Grandfather?

"Promise?" A gentle shaking. It was Chrissy.

"Huh?" I said, wiping my tears away. The soft candlelight betrayed me, though. Chrissy pressed her fingers against my eyes and gently rubbed the tears.

"Grandfather again?" Grandfather offered to be her grandfather and Chrissy was only too eager to agree.

I nodded, staring at her. She sighed, then sat up in bed.

"I won’t pretend to understand, Promise. But you know I care." I nodded again. "You want to talk about it?"

How could I not? Chrissy was so much more to me than I could express. She and Stanworth were two of only four who knew my true name. My Pisces name. And only she and Stanworth had my unconditional love and trust, though in different ways.

I shared with her what I had seen. Since the very beginning our race, the Pisces had been able to enter Timelessness. More than a dream, yet less than reality, it was a mix of both. During a Timelessness swim, one could speak to all Pisces, living and dead, and relive the past. And even know the future, though future knowledge was lost upon leaving Timelessness.

"I know you’ve used Timelessness most of your life," Chrissy said. "But since Grandfather died two months ago, you seem to be focusing on him." She looked at me thoughtfully. "I’d often wondered why your grief was so deep but so brief."

I nudged her gently and smiled. "That’s because you were there, Chrissy. You and Stanworth, as well as Grandfather."

"Thanks," she said. "I really appreciate that, Promise. But even with Stanworth always being there, even with what you and I are to each other, it was still mercifully brief. You knew Grandfather would always be there."

"Yes."

We chatted a little longer. I was just snuggling deeper into our quilt when Chrissy got out of bed.

"Be right back," she giggled. "Hot, black coffee with steak is a great combo, but you only rent coffee."

She ducked into the bathroom and I slipped off to sleep. My talks with Grandfather always left me tired and cozy and so ready to drop off into...

"Deborah?"

For the second time I woke to Chrissy’s voice. But it had a different note in it now. And why had she called me Deborah? When we were alone, it was always Promise.

"Wha..." The candle was out and the room was unlit. My eyes quickly adapted and I saw her side of the bed was empty.

"Chrissy?"

"I have her, Mariner."

It was a woman’s voice. Hard, unforgiving, threatening. My eyes opened wide and I saw Chrissy standing at the foot of our bed, her arms behind her back and a glint of metal at her neck.

"I’m sorry, Deborah," she said, a sheen of tears over her eyes. "I heard a noise and thought Stanworth needed help, so I.." She gasped as the knife pressed closer.

"That’s enough," the unknown woman behind Chrissy hissed. "Davis is being held at the precinct until morning, just like we planned." Her eyes narrowed as she stared at me. "But what do you have planned, Mariner?"

I eased the sheets back. Was I fast enough? Could I catch her off guard? Chrissy’s life was in the balance.

"Don’t try it," she warned. "I know the Pisces’ strengths. I know their weaknesses, too. You and DuPries here are too tight for you to move unhindered. You’ll be too careful and I’ll slit her open before you can get me."

"I believe you," I said in a voice far calmer than I was. "What do you want?"

She released Chrissy and flung her toward me. My arms went out and caught her. Chrissy! I stepped in front of her, tensing. The attack would come now.

The woman stepped back and tossed the knife onto the bed. She then opened her arms and smiled at me.

"I just wanted to say hi." She turned her back to me and placed her hands behind her head.

Stunned, I picked up the knife and went to her. She started as the point of the knife pressed into the back of her neck.

"Geez! You’re quieter than I’d been told!"

"You threatened the life of my mate," I said tonelessly. I leaned on the knife and a trickle of blood painted the tip.

"I did," she said in an equally flat tone.

I kept her like that for a long minute, then lowered the knife. I went into the bathroom and retrieved the first aid kit. She was sitting in a chair, tenderly touching the back of her neck. Her fingers came away bloody.

"I didn’t know Pisces protocol allowed for injury," she complained.

I tossed the kit to Chrissy. She caught it and tended the woman’s wound.

"Your life was mine to take, just as Chrissy’s was yours." I looked at her with something less than pleasure. "What is it you want?"

She looked up at me. Chrissy had sprayed on the NumMist and was applying the grasping skin none too gently. Despite that, the woman didn’t flinch.

"I’m the first step on your Grandfather’s quest."

*    *    *