Prologue

There's an old engine from a Gipsy fighter plane in the center of the place, cased in glass and with a small plaque that reads "In memory of Yancy Beckett." The plaque wasn't always there, and for a while in bleak winter, the case wasn't either. But even to the oblivious passer-by, the engine was more than an old relic. It held a history, something great.

Chapter 1

Raleigh knew exactly when to expect crowds. The college, just far enough away to not make them "the college stress center', but close enough to attract students, would release a big class and some would come here. The freshly off work hip twenty somethings arrived in the late afternoon. The lovers would stroll in for lunch dates. On Saturday, some tourists and a good sized crowd of regulars would stream in and out. And yet there was never a dull moment.

Sometimes the land lord, Stacker Pentecost would stop in, see how things were doing. Gipsy made enough to survive the rent, so there wasn't usually any trouble with Pentecost. Not that you would ever want trouble with him. He was a tall, dark skinned, authoritative kind of guy, with a deep voice, made all the more intimidating by the British accent. He'd formerly been in the military, and the crew cut remained.

Gipsy was one of a few coffee shops Stacker had helped start up over the past years, although he wasn't landlord to the others. Gipsy had been first, his own personal pet project. He'd helped perfect the coffee, and given the idea for the signature ginger plum scones.

Besides Gipsy, there was also the Striker Eureka on the other side of town, owned by Chuck and Herc Hansen, Australians originally. They kept a small bulldog in their place that had become somewhat of a local favorite. The menu had tons of sandwiches and whatnot.

There was the Cherno Alpha, run by a married Russian couple that made all sorts of exotic treats and drinks. There were lots of strange pastires in the ornate cast front and center when you walked in. The coffee was extremely caffeinated and the tea was smoky and piping hot.

The Crimson Typhoon was an Asian place owned by triplets, who were famous for great three on three basketball games against other patrons when they were off duty. And when they said spicy, they meant it.

And then there was Tesla's Current, run by German science geeks Hermann Gottlieb and Newt Geiszler. They were expected to kill each other any day now. They could often be found shouting at each in German and trying to persuade bemused customers that HE was the one with the best recipe for espresso.

Then there was Tendo, who was some sort of friend of Stacker's who helped with good word of mouth/advertising/special events and whatnot. He'd helped Tesla's Current set up its long running discussion group that met once a week to talk about the latest and greatest in anything from science to comic books. It also usually ended up with loud German swearing matches.

But they cobbled together this weird little family, visiting each other from time to time at the different places and always trying to keep up with each other.

It was a Friday afternoon, not a rush time at all. Raleigh was wandering around, fixing up little things here and there. The espresso machine was on the fritz again. He'd have to get Newt or Hermann in to have a look.

Stacker had checked in earlier, to let Raleigh know that he had recently asked his adopted daughter to help out with things.

"You have a daughter?" Raleigh stared questioningly.

"She's interviewing possible new workers for you." He said softly.

That made Raleigh pause for a moment. He had been a little more swamped as of lately, but he didn't really bother to think about hiring anyone else.

"I know what you're thinking, but it's been a year. I'm not forcing this upon you, you don't have to hire anyone, it's just a suggestion. She'll be stopping by later today." He said good-bye and left, leaving Raleigh wide-eyed and shocked at the counter.

Meanwhile across town…..

"Sie sind falsch!"

"Dude, how can you even say that? It is scientifically possible that there's a breach in the fabric of the dimension and that giant beas…" the argument stopped when the bell on the door rang.

"You guys are gonna get the cops called on you one day." Tendo said strolling through the door. "I can hear you out on the sidewalk.

"That'll be the day." Hermann said, rolling his eyes as he went to gather the stuff for Tendo's usual (earl grey, two shots of hazelnut, one of chocolate, and one of caramel).

Despite all their shouting matches, the two were really good friends, they both just had trouble admitting it.

"What's this?" Tendo asked, seeing the tiny jar with colorful art depicting surprisingly cute dinosaur-esque things on the label.

"THAT," Newt started loudly, not giving Gottlieb the chance to even start, "is my tip jar, which is going to fund putting a rover on the ocean floor where there might just be a rift in the fabric of time and space. I will have the first photographic evidence. I'll be a rockstar." Newt finished, smiling proudly, and crossing his arms.

"I told you." Hermann said sourly from the back, although his gaze had softened just a tad, maybe not in sympathy, but out of respect.

"That's crazy even for you." Tendo smiled and shook his head.

"I'm not one to discourage scientific discovery, but it is farfetched." Gottlieb brought up the steaming cup of tea and set it down on the counter.

"Well, either way, best of luck." Tendo took the change from the cup of tea and dropped it into the jar, the rosary on his wrist clinking against the glass.

"See? I told you!"

"Sie kleine scheisser." Hermann wasn't quite grinning, but it was close enough.