This story is dedicated to Markus who suggested the crossover and helped in the story's development. Enjoy!
"If only I had shared my visions with you, Hadron," Sarama said sadly. "How awful to lose all her eggs. It had to be that dream, a sign of coming disaster."
"Don't blame yourself," Hadron said comfortingly, "Who knew when and if that carnotaur would attack? We live with predators all the time, my love. This was no different."
Sarama sighed, watching Kamura bury the remainder of her smashed eggs. The iguanodon was understandingly dejected and grief-stricken, and she vowed in front of everyone that she would never have any more children. Naturally the entire Herd was shocked to hear such a thing, although everyone understood Kamura's depth of sorrow. After all, this was her first nest, her first offspring. How can one blame her for making such a statement.
"I feel somewhat guilty," said Sarama. "Here I have my own hatchlings, and Kamura has none. Oh, if only I could turn back time–"
"But you can't Sarama," said her mother Ola. "Look around us, see how life goes on. Kamura will heal from this, but it takes time. Now, about that dream..."
Sarama admitted, "The one with the strange creatures...Especially the young one fighting his best friend. The one whose mate died of broken heart after she bore his children. The younglings were taken far away where they'd be safe. Oh yes, the father lives. I dreamed again, just before dawn. The father, a burnt shell of himself, lives, but as something else I can't quite comprehend. Clad in black, huge, menacing, a terror to all who encounter him. There is still good in him, and that glimmer of love for his mate is still there, but it's nearly snuffed out. All he knows is power and hate...Hello! What is this I hear?"
Hadron and Ola looked at Sarama now lost in thought. A look of peaceful bliss spread across her face; her eyes closed in deep concentration, and she began to hum an odd yet beautiful melody.
"Oh," she said, "I wish you could hear this."
"Hear what?," asked Hadron.
"This...I can't even tell you what it sounds like. It's beautiful beyond compare. I will tell you this: We will hear again in the distant future, only we will see exactly who is making those beautiful melodies."
If Sarama only knew what she heard was actually music that wouldn't be written for eons, some in the 18th Century, more in the 19th. Indeed, she and the rest of the Herd will hear it again, and see its performers far off in the future. In her mind Sarama, deeply drinking in the music's tender melodies, she could see one performer. A creature as lovely as the music she played, yet she never saw, let alone touched, this instrument in her life. A natural talent or special powers?
Deep in her trance, Sarama saw the woman who the Herd will meet in about two decades. She saw the sumptuous surroundings, smelled the heady fragrance of mimosa and magnolia...And heard the blast of cannons that will tear a country asunder years beyond that little paradise the lady called home. Sarama also saw someone else much like this lady, someone who will come the Herd many years from now, making the oddest of requests. And the Herd will follow her to a land of wonderment and magic.
La Terre Belle, Natchez MS, 1848
Matilda, the house servant, showed Charlie into the parlor where he distinctly heard strains of Mozart wafting from the pianoforte. Now, if he remembered correctly, all Marbile Beauchamps' descendants were musically gifted. His best friend, Lavinia, was blessed with a lovely, soaring soprano voice. Lavinia, if life circumstances hadn't forced her to seek out other career paths – make that a series of low-paying jobs – she'd be an operatic star. Yet, for all Lavinia's sacrifices, she had the pleasure of seeing her own daughter Madeline excel in the music world as a gifted cellist.
So sad, thought Charlie, Lavinia dying of cancer while Madeline was on tour...Poor girl had to cut the tour short to go to her mother's deathbed...Well, if this interview with Marbile née Marbe Tasou pans out, Maddie will at last find happiness. I just hope she isn't too sore at me when she discovers the destination of her special "vacation."
Clearing his throat, he entered the parlor. It was a lavishly yet tastefully appointed room as was the rest of the house. Most charmingly mid-19th Century as was the style in antebellum Dixie. He was astounded with the house itself. The stately white facade with its six columns, the grand entry hall with the gracefully curving staircase which commanded immediate attention. The many comings and goings of house servants. Oh yes, that slice of pre-war South wasn't lost on Charlie, and he wondered what Madame Beauchamps thought of this American slavery, what with herself coming from a world where droids do the drudge work and other menial tasks. It had to be a tremendous accommodation on her part to agree to come to 1848 Mississippi, so far away from her home world of Coruscant.
Yes, Charlie, thanks to his magical friends, knew firsthand just who Marbile Beauchamps really was. The problem was breaking to her the circumstances of his second visit, and why her sudden transplantation from far advanced Coruscant to 1840's Earth was so necessary. Going through that time slip was no accident as her father previously discovered. Those fantastic journeys were planned, perhaps by divine power to help avert a possible catastrophe for the Tasous' earthly descendants.
Well, the misfortune for Marbe's future family began the moment Marbe's great-granddaughter, Ariana Beauchamps, had the audacity to marry a man outside her race; such pairings were illegal at the time. That was a problem in itself given the climate in early 20th Century Mississippi. Then Ariana's daughter Lavinia up and married Robert Newbury, a well-heeled Brit whose family had dark designs on the entire Beauchamps family tree, namely direct descendants of Marbe Tasou. It was rumored the Newburys had ties to another, far more evil one who had already killed a young couple. The reason for all this animosity was still unknown.
What a mess! Charlie thought of Madeline's paternal cousin James who'd always showed Lavinia a kindness, even emigrated to the States to get away from his own nefarious family. But Charlie was getting ahead of himself. He had to talk once more to Marbe, perhaps persuade her to use those powers to help his goddaughter.
He stood there as Madame Beauchamps continued playing. She glanced up at him and smiled; they had met before.
Without stopping, she said, "Mr. Lavigne, so we meet again. Please help yourself to some refreshment." She nodded at the frosty pitcher of lemonade and numerous decanters of spirits. Returning the smile, Charlie poured himself a whiskey and soda – a habit picked up from James. How he studied this woman, so much did she look like Lavinia. A lovely young lady in her early twenties, Marbe Tasou's beauty was astounding. Without a doubt, Marbe was unaware of her good looks, of the wealth of dark hair, bright blue eyes, a warm smile, and a peaches and cream complexion. If she wasn't from another world, Charlie would assume she was just another all-American girl. Those amazing powers he witnessed in 1864 New Orleans belied the "Southern belle" persona she projected. Which is why he had to know her better.
"You know," she said with a laugh, "we didn't have pianofortes on Coruscant. In fact, we didn't have this kind of music. So beautiful this Mozart's melodies. I hear he was a child prodigy, composed symphonies when most younglings can barely talk. He had to be Force-sensitive. What else explains such talents. Same can be said for your Schubert and Beethoven. Such gifts extend directly from the Force."
Charlie sipped his drink, wondering if Marbe would level with him. He didn't have much time when they met before, back in the Cretaceous Period, where she and brother Kirel landed after going through that time slip. So he asked her point blank.
"Marbe, and I will address you as such," he began, "But only behind closed doors–"
"Sir," she said, still playing, "do not worry about my husband finding out, because he knows. Jean-Paul may appear to be any ordinary southern planter, but his powers even rival that of my own."
Now Charlie was more intrigued. He had to ask, "Powers? Dumbledore or Ozma never mentioned Jean-Paul Beauchamps as having..."
Marbe laughed, saying, "Oh, Mr. Lavigne, the moment Jean-Paul and I laid eyes on each other, we knew. He just keeps it all to himself. Jean-Paul says he doesn't mind but other people will talk if they ever discover..."
His fluffy white mustache twitching, Charlie broke into a broad grin, then he grew serious. He said, "Such as what I witnessed in the not so far off future...Marbe, I'm getting ahead of myself. I'm here on an urgent matter as it concerns your future descendants, one of which is a dear friend. Her mother died recently, and I must spirit her away from what I feel is a dangerous situation. Her very life may be threatened, that is, if she remains–"
"Just as Kirel and I had to flee Coruscant. Charlie, my mother had a feeling things would not go our way, not after so many years hiding from the Emperor. It was a matter of time before we would be discovered. You say your friend lost her mother; so did I. Well, at least we didn't witness her murder, but we felt it even as we fled across the galaxy. Charlie, let me tell my story, what I wished I had done but didn't have the time. You see, predators were stalking us, a bounty hunter was hot on our trail, and we had just discovered our father's last words to his Jedi master, Artmo Hox, who was still stranded in that time period. And we had to unravel a mystery concerning a stolen egg, thus reuniting a mother and son.
So, let me tell you how we fared whilst hiding in the Wolon house on Coruscant, and how we had to leave before Palpatine's spies found us. It all started when my brother wanted something special for dinner..."
Copyright @2006 by P.R. Parker. All Rights Reserved.