Veranda Incognita, Home of the Waverlys

[Malaclypse 666]

The scene aboard the small shuttle was familiar. It hovered above the deLuna Memorial Plaza, at the exact focal point formed by the three crystal obelisks below. The natural vortex at that point on Gran Canaria's surface was amplified to the extent that an exchange of.. information.. and of consciousness.. was possible.

Once again, the ritual that had allowed a small part of Sylvia deLuna's "essence" to be brought back from another plane of existence had been repeated. The goal, as dictated by Malaclypse's "revelation", had been to return F-23 Sylvia to the realm where she existed, incomplete; and to substitute in her place the willing and complete essence of one Shamus Patrick O'Shaunessy.

Reginald Waverly and Episkopos Prime Malaclypse stood above a small pedestal which held the titanium transponder, or "F-unit". V-Max droned from the Veranda below, *Vortexual energies have returned to normal levels. Logs indicate inter-dimensional energy transfer completed.*

Finally, the transponder's audio interface crackled to life, breaking the tension inside the shuttle's compartment.

*Well, hello, Mal. Reggie. I see you got my "message". Oi, Mama Dis. If you call me one of yer "Fnordette babies", I'll be havin' an issue. Shamus will do!*

"Hello, Shamus." said Mal. "It's been awhile. We have a bit of catching up to do. We're all quite interested in what it's like 'over there'. I'm sure you don't really sit around on toadstools.. heh."

*That'll have to wait, Squire. We have a problem. It seems that I'm not alone in here. It would appear that Sylvia and I are gonna be 'sharin' a room', so to speak. For some reason, that part of our transfer plans has failed, mates...*

A heart-rending sob escaped Reggie's lips, as he grabbed Malaclypse roughly by the shoulders. "Damn it, Mal! I knew we shouldn't have meddled with the dead! I felt it from the beginning! You and your bloody hunches and plans. I should kill you where you stand for what you've done to the deLunas! And I should kill myself for creating this wretched Plaza! None of this would have happened...."

Mal wrenched himself from Reggie's grasp and turned to a console attached to the F-unit. He observed the readout for a moment, and then rubbed his face with his hands. "I don't understand, Reggie. Sylvia wanted to go back! The transfer should have occurred! Something prevented it. I don't understand..."

*Maybe I can help with that, Gents.* interrupted Shamus. *We were all workin' under a false assumption. Just because we all willed this to happen doesn't mean we could fix the problem. Fiona somehow knew it, and tried t' warn me. I wanted to come back so badly that I ignored her warnin'. That's the bad news..*

*The good news is that 'our' Sylvia is takin' it better than could be expected, and 'we've' come to an accommodation. It appears that I'm gonna be sportin' the kind-hearted and pure 'conscience' that I was lackin' in my past life. I'll be steerin' this globe, and she'll be whisperin' to me if I start steerin' in the wrong direction. We're thinkin' that the two parts can actually be greater than the whole. Now will you two buck up and make up and quit blubberin'?*

Reggie and Mal stared at each other for a moment, and Reggie finally sighed.. "Very well, then. Eris has dealt us one stinky hand, and I suppose there's nothing for it but to play it. But I intend to start dismantling that bloody Plaza immediately, so that we'll never be tempted.."

*No, ya won't, Reggie. That'll serve no purpose now. The link you created to the other side was made from a pure and eternal thing. It's called love. You'll not sever that link, my old friend. It has purposes we don't know, and may never know; but it's not your place to break that link. You go down there right now, Reggie, and i guarantee that you'll know what I'm sayin' is the truth. You'll feel it.

*Now, my wee conscience and I have a new ship to purchase and outfit. I may have been a smuggler, courier and trader in the past, but I'm hearin' that this TAZ outfit may be in need of a few more 'teeth' these days. I'll be rejoinin' this little granfaloon of yours with the ability to bite, gents. Can we get on with livin' now?*

Reggie still seemed in shock and deep in thought; but a small smile crossed Mal's face as he turned to the shuttle's cockpit and began the short descent to the Veranda's private landing field.

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