A Gift of Time

by Merritt, Jerry

  It was early afternoon before we pulled off the highway onto an unpaved service road and drove for several miles before cutting out across the Mojave Desert. We rolled to a stop in the sunbaked lakebed several miles from the Nevada test site. Even from that distance, it was clear whoever had seized the facility was well-manned and heavily funded. A convoy of military style vehicles lined the road outside. And up that road, a large trailer truck with a two-car escort threw up clouds of dust as it raced toward the site.

  “They must be planning to move the glider body to a more secure location,” I said.

  “Why? Without the control boxes it’s just an empty shell?”

  “I doubt they know that yet.”

  “Well, who are they? How can they just come in and take over?”

  “Good question. Probably not government. That video must have alerted others that there’s a time machine up for grabs. Since anyone with a time machine could quite literally control the world, it’s crucial we don’t fall into their hands since we’re carrying the operational parts.”

  Ell had been watching them through binoculars. “Then we better get out of here, because two of those vehicles just left the compound at high speed heading right for us.”

  I looked in the direction she was pointing. Contrails of dust streamed out behind dark vehicles. We had maybe two minutes to do something. I reached into the back of the Jeep and pulled out a prototype with a five-foot radius of influence.

  “Get in the Jeep and crouch down near the center. Pull all the control boxes in next to you.” I climbed in behind her and programmed the prototype to go back twenty-four hours. The approaching vehicles were a hundred yards out when I engaged the actuator.

  The central chassis of the old Jeep bounced hard as it dropped onto the desert in the previous day. A perfectly spherical ten-foot cross section of the Jeep had transferred. Anything sticking out of the radius of influence was left in the future. The tires were flat and the front and rear ends were missing. Greenish coolant gurgled out of severed radiator hoses onto the dry lakebed. But the central cargo had come through unscathed.

  I imagined the missing Jeep parts lying around tomorrow’s scooped out hole as our puzzled pursuers picked through them. Now they would know for sure they were dealing with time travelers, but from our perspective, we had another twenty-four hours before they knew it. We needed a plan.

  Ell and I knocked the dust off and set out across the desert for the compound.

  We considered calling Boeing to have the crate shipped to the vault instead, but had no way to know whether that would only make it easier to intercept. The only thing we knew for sure was that the crate would arrive here in the morning five minutes before the compound was overrun. The morning delivery would have to do.

  “That’s only going to leave a few minutes to open the crate and install the control boxes before that armed team, whoever they are, arrive,” I said. “It took us over an hour to get the crate dismantled when the first glider body arrived at the vault. We’re going to need a lot of help if we’re going to stay ahead of the group wanting this thing badly enough to seize the entire compound.”

  Ell nodded agreement. “And if they catch us there with the control boxes, it won’t take them long to figure out how to snap the connectors together to make the glider operational.”

  As we walked, I considered our options. Perhaps meeting the delivery truck when it turned off the paved road then driving the glider out into the desert to give us time to access it. According to my phone conversation with the director, the delivery took place about five minutes before the armed team’s arrival. How far could a truck make it across the desert in five minutes? I scanned the flat horizon. The closest rise that could hide a truck looked more than five miles away. That wasn’t going to work.

  Then I thought about using the prototype to jump back a week then try to intercept the glider before it left Boeing; take possession of it there and install the control boxes. I didn’t see any immediate problems with that approach. It was simple, direct, and I had the equipment on hand to pull it off. I asked Ell her thoughts on the matter since she was a copy of a vastly more experienced time traveler.

  “I wouldn’t try it, Cager.”

  I stopped. “Why not?”

  She looked up, squinting under the high desert sun. “You’ll be working in the same time period where you already exist, only your earlier self won’t know what you’re up to.”

  I thought about it for a moment. “That’s certainly true, but that’s the situation we’re in right now too. I don’t see the problem as long as we don’t cross paths.”

  “Well, do the people at Boeing know you personally?”

  “No.”

  “So don’t you think, when you show up, they might call around to confirm you’re who you say you are? And, of course, since the other you has no idea you’ve gone back in time to save the glider project, he’ll say you’re an imposter. And that call to you also alters your own past while you’re in it. What do you think the outcome of that might be?”

  I sighed. “Yeah, I see your point. Plus we can’t keep lugging this time travel equipment around outside the vault. I guess we’re in as good a position to regain control now as we’re likely to get. Let’s just press on.”

  Twenty minutes later, we entered the compound. The director, Dr. Hofstadter, a lanky man with thinning red hair and intelligent eyes, greeted us warmly but with a puzzled expression. We explained our Jeep had broken down then quickly changed the subject to the delivery of the shipping crate he was waiting for.

  “We have some unscrupulous competitors after that equipment, Dr. Hofstadter. We’re going to need to get it secured as quickly as possible after it arrives.” That caught his attention.

  As we surveyed the warehouse and its loading dock, I said, “I want a full team here early tomorrow morning with crowbars and chainsaws. Send some men into town now to purchase both and the oil and gas to operate the saws. When that truck backs up to the dock, I want the crate pulled off immediately, so have the forklift standing by with its engine running and an operator on board.” The man was starting to become alarmed.

  “What the hell’s in that crate?” he asked.

  I figured I might as well make it personal. “Advanced guidance systems, with the servo drivers and AI software that operate them. We’ll be out of business if this stuff gets into our competitors’ hands.” I paused for effect. “So, are you on board?”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll have everything ready. But why not call in law enforcement if you suspect a hijacking?”

  “If law enforcement gets involved and there’s a crime committed, the equipment will end up as evidence, and I might be tied up in court for years. Meanwhile our competitors would leave us in their dust. But, if I can get into the crate in time, what they get will be worthless. So again, are you on board for this? If not, let me know now.”

  He swallowed hard. I could tell he was weighing his options. Finally he nodded. “Yeah, I’m on board.”

  “Good. Then as soon as the crate comes off the truck, get the driver out of here and on his way back up the road. That might buy us a few extra minutes. In fact, add a casehardened padlock to your shopping list. I want you to lock the truck’s rear door with it before it leaves. If they intercept the truck, it might take them another few minutes to get the lock off to make sure the cargo isn’t still on board.” He turned to leave.

  “And one final thing. I’ll need a vehicle to recover some test equipment from my Jeep. And Ell and I will need a place to stay here overnight while we wait for the delivery.”

  Chapter 62

  The next morning we were up at dawn going over the control boxes to make sure all the wiring was intact. Then we ran through the plan to access the crate once it was off the truck. It looked doable if we could get the glider body doors open in the first four minutes. But the doors opened together, so we needed both sides of the shipping crate cut away. I was sure we could install the cont
rol boxes and be gone in the remaining minute.

  “The batteries were charged on the first glider. Do you think these will be charged too?”

  “The contract called for them to be.” I could tell Ell was worried. “It’s going to work, Ell. We just have to stick to the plan.”

  “What if nobody shows up this morning?”

  “They’ll be here, but we’ll have a couple of hours to come up with a workaround if they aren’t.” Now, though, I was uneasy. Ell was usually right in her assessments.

  By eight o’clock, however, a full crew was in place on the loading dock. I had to fight the urge to ask the Dr. Hofstadter how the intruders had gotten past the locked front gate. It was hard to keep in mind the attack hadn’t taken place yet from his perspective. If it had, I doubted he would be here with me now. Finally, with everything prepared, we settled in and waited.

  ***

  Ell was first to spot movement on the horizon. She tapped my shoulder and nodded apprehensively down the road.

  I sent a man out to open the gate and guide the truck to the loading dock. Several minutes later, the driver was fumbling with his keychain trying to open the rear door. “Usually don’t use a lock,” he said as he finally pushed the panel door up to reveal the crate. The forklift was already moving in as chainsaws roared to life. “Hey, what’s the hurry?” the driver yelled as he jumped out of the way.

  “We’re busy,” I said. “As soon as we have this crate offloaded I want you back on the road again. Understand?” I held up a twenty. “This is yours if your truck is out of here in under a minute. I’ll close the back for you when we’re done.” He grabbed the twenty and climbed back into the cab. I pulled the rear door down as Dr. Hofstadter threw the new lock on the latch then hit the side of the truck yelling, “You’re clear to go.”

  When I turned around, two men were on top of the crate sawing the sides loose. The plan was moving along with military precision until a screech of metal-on-metal followed by a snap and an over-revving engine.

  “Just threw a chain,” one of the men called down. “There’s some long bolts running along the edges holding the side to the top.” The other chainsaw operator had stopped. I told him to move in six inches and continue cutting. He nodded and started again. I checked my watch. We had about two minutes left and the crate was still sealed. I hoped the casehardened lock on the rear door of the delivery truck and the driver’s lack of a key to it would buy us a bit more time.

  Two minutes later, the worker completed the cuts along the top and climbed down to start on the back of the crate to free the sides. Now we were on borrowed time. Then Ell called out, “Here they come.”

  In the distance, an ominous column of dust rose against a cloudless sky. I nudged a nearby worker. “Get that front gate closed and locked.”

  When I turned to survey the progress on the crate, one side was almost free. The crew grabbed it to pull it down, but the panel wouldn’t break loose from the bottom where heavy bolts continued to hold it to the base. Ell and I added our weight and wood began to splinter as the side finally gave way. The glider body was accessible from one side now, but I still couldn’t open the gullwing doors until the other side was free. Then a rumble of heavy vehicles reverberated through the warehouse just as a large military-style convoy truck smashed through the front gate, sending it spiraling across the parking area. I yelled for someone to secure the loading dock door.

  As the door slammed down, I grabbed Dr. Hofstadter. “Stand by to douse the lights when that last side comes off.” I was sure I could install the control boxes in the dark, and darkness, I felt, would further slow whoever was after the glider.

  Just as the other side of the crate pulled free, the lights winked out. I fumbled for the external entry handle and the doors hissed open. The glider had power. I climbed in.

  Ell handed me the control boxes and the spare prototypes then stood by the open door waiting. As I pulled the console panel off the recessed area where the control boxes fit, a sharp crack of small arms fire rattled the dock door leaving bright holes, but the door held. Seconds later, shaped charges blew a rectangular opening in the wall. The shaft of light streaming through the new entryway writhed with shadowy figures pouring into the warehouse.

  “Well, we almost made it,” Ell said.

  I reached out to pull her into the glider, but in the face of armed intruders, the workers had grabbed her and were dragging her along with them as they fled toward the rear. They must have thought they were helping. With the operational components now on board, I had no choice but to seal the glider doors as paramilitary troops swarmed through the darkened hanger looking for anyone that needed neutralizing. Fortunately, the rear of the crate still kept the glider in deep shadow. If I stayed down, maybe no one would notice me before the area had been secured. By then I might have the glider operational.

  I felt around behind the console for the wiring harnesses and pulled them out one by one, plugging in the matching control boxes as I went. Without bothering to slide the boxes into their prepared slots in the console, I clicked the thumbwheel up one notch and selected kilometers from the console switch. This was where I hoped the triple quality control checks would pay off. As one of the mercenaries ran to the open crate, I sat up. Startled, he tripped on the cut away side stumbling forward as I powered up the circuitry. Blue sky filled my field of view.

  I backed the thumbwheel to neutral and leaned over to check the compound far below. A movement outside the glider caught my attention. It was the mercenary’s slack face sliding down the inside surface of the time field. Part of him had been in the glider’s transfer volume as it left. The front half of his rifle and one hand already lay on the bottom of the field. The rest of him was still back in the warehouse.

  I switched power off for a few seconds to allow the grisly pieces to separate and recalled the test Ell and I had done with the water barrel to see how fast the prototypes were emerging after a time hop. I had mentioned then that a time machine would make a devastating weapon using its near-instantaneous emergence out of nowhere back into the real world. And this glider would have that same property. As I studied the road below, I figured this was an excellent time to see just how much damage a glider could do as it flew through a line of vehicles, re-expanding a thousand times a second as it went. It should be quite a show. A show I might be able to turn to my advantage.

  Less than a minute had elapsed since the mercenaries had burst into the warehouse. I didn’t want to give them enough time to reconstitute and feel secure so I yawed the glider around and dove toward the convoy. Pulling up seconds later behind the last vehicle, an olive-drab Humvee, I selected centimeters from the spatial switch and rammed the glider into the Hummer. It shattered explosively raining parts out across the desert. I paused to verify that the glider itself wasn’t damaged then pushed the stick forward and ran straight through the entire convoy right into the compound.

  Two lone mercenaries guarding the gate covered their heads as vehicle parts clattered about them then spun around as the rifle barrel I had released from several miles up clanged onto the warehouse’s metal roof.

  “We better tell Rutiger there’s a problem,” the nearest one yelled.

  “You think.”

  About that time, the front half of a head splatted face up between them. Without further consultation, they bolted for the desert.

  I wondered why in all the excitement they hadn’t noticed the glider then realized it was cycling rapidly in and out of time. While it was out, the view behind would be visible. To anyone not in the glider it would appear translucent. Otherworldly. So much the better.

  I turned the glider around and repositioned myself a quarter mile up the road. Translucent or not, I wanted to be visible to this Rutiger when he looked down the row of devastation where his convoy used to be.

  Within a minute, a group had assembled on the loading dock. By then I had worked out the rest of the plan.

  I floated just above the
devastation right into the compound and swung to the right so I was edge-on to the dock. As I cut power and hit the door opener, I kept my right hand on the control stick. A somewhat tense and puzzled cast stared back at me. I spoke first.

  “Your employers obviously aren’t paying you enough to mess with us, Rutiger. We knew what you were up to before you even got your team assembled.” Nodding at the face gaping up empty-eyed from the pavement, I said, “And that’s what all of you are going to look like in another ten seconds if you don’t throw your weapons down and follow your sentries double-time, north into the desert.”

  At that, there was a rattle of firearms hitting the concrete dock followed by the scrambled departure of over half the remaining team.

  “And by the way, the defense system has no trouble telling friend from foe, so don’t think taking hostages will do you any good. Five seconds left. Four.”

  Finally, a heavily-tattooed, Arian-type stepped forward tossing his pistol onto the dock. “Okay, okay. Hold up. To hell with this mission. We’re outta here.”

  As the entire team trotted out across the desert, the staff and workers gathered in the parking lot staring at the expanse of shredded metal that had been the attacking convoy. It was obvious they wanted to ask what the hell was going on but knew there would be no answer. I told them to get in their cars and leave. As the last vehicle departed, Ell and I climbed into the glider. I lowered the doors and took us up to three thousand meters.

  Chapter 63

  “I think we finally got this thing right,” I said. She was staring wide-eyed at me when I glanced over. She hadn’t spoken since my return. “Something wrong?”

  “I thought those troops would kill you when you stopped right there in front of them. They had no reason not to. What happened?”

  “That’s called a bluff. I left my hand on the control stick figuring the team leader would be smart enough to suspect there was a deadman switch somewhere. If they killed me, the switch would loose on them whatever weapon had shredded their convoy and mutilated one of their men. The fact I sat there apparently unarmed would have convinced them I was somehow invulnerable. And even if they suspected I wasn’t, they would be betting their lives on that assumption. Mercenaries don’t operate like that. They live to fight another day.”