by Larry A. Brown
“Well, I’m glad that’s over.” Martin relaxed in the comfortable leather seat. “Although it’s nice that I can add Lord of Time to my résumé.”
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“Do I detect a note of sarcasm in that comment, LOGOS?”
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“So, any progress? How’s the translation work coming?”
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“You mean you hacked his flash drive?” Martin had to smile at the AI’s subterfuge.
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“So you’re saying you can read the classic texts now?”
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“Yes, we learned: one, that the Maya understand that Kaan came from another planet, and two, that they credit him with inspiring their technological advancement through all these years.”
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“That’s right.” Martin tapped his fingers on the armrest, considering what they had learned. “Okay, let’s see. How do these facts correspond to what you’ve found in the histories?”
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“Yes, I’m familiar with Tikal. An associate of mine in the history department conducted archaeological digs there for several summers. The work sounded exciting, but his reports in our departmental meetings were tedious.”
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“Sounds like what we might call a scientist or inventor.”
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“Which they were already masters of, so something else must have happened.”
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“Yes, of course! As advanced as they were in mathematics and engineering, the ancient Maya never developed the use of the wheel, nor did they work much with metals as later people like the Aztecs did. Once they had gunpowder, they could invent firearms. Their superiority in warfare would easily have made them the most powerful civilization in all the Americas. Then after centuries of such progress, when the Spanish conquistadors arrived in the 1500s, they wouldn’t have had a chance against the mighty Maya.”
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“I suspect that their understanding of medicine advanced along with the sciences. When Europeans brought new diseases to the continent, the Native Americans would not have been so defenseless. In my timeline, smallpox decimated the population of Central America by tens of millions, many more than were killed by the Spaniards.”
Excited about this revelation, Martin considered his next move. “All this makes so much sense that it has to be what Xenox planned with his interference. But there’s a problem. If we can’t pinpoint the exact dates of his visits, we can’t jump back and stop him — if that’s even possible.”
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“What? You mean get there ahead of him and somehow prevent the damage before it occurs? That’s a possibility. But I’m not sure how that would work. I’d have to convince the Maya to believe me and not him. It’ll take more than a persuasive speech and my personal charm, I’m sure. And if my audience doesn’t like what they hear, they’ll have a nasty way of showing their disapproval.”
Martin peered out the windows and was surprised to see that night had fallen. During the drive, he had become so absorbed in pondering this new information that he had not noticed until now that something was wrong. The auto-navigator had taken him to an unfamiliar part of town, one not as prosperous or inviting as someone all alone might desire.
Martin scanned the deserted streets, hoping to find any recognizable landmarks. Eventually the vehicle turned down a dark alley and came to a stop. Nothing he commanded it to do got a response. The rain continued to pound on the roof.
“LOGOS, can you link into the car’s systems and discover what the trouble is?”
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With that unsettling news, Martin frantically considered his options but could think of no good ones. He noticed one lit building at the end of the block. Searching through the car’s interior, he failed to find anything useful as protection from the elements or suspicious-looking strangers. The plastic fork he retrieved from under the seat didn’t inspire him with confidence.
Taking a deep breath, he manually opened the door and stepped out into the downpour. The water came down in sheets, drenching him to the skin. For someone who a few hours ago had received the title of Lord of Time, Martin didn’t feel very privileged.
As he walked toward the lit store, he wondered what had happened. Could someone have tampered with the car? If so, what was the point? He hadn’t had time to make any enemies in the last few days, and he didn’t recall anything from this present life that would prompt such malicious attention.
When he got about fifty feet from the entrance, the light in the store window suddenly went out. He froze as his only hope of rescue vanished. In the darkness, his other senses became sharper. The blowing rain lashed violently against the walls of the surrounding buildings. A stray dog overturned a garbage can with a loud crash, making him jump. Not knowing what else to do, he headed back toward the car, but his were not the only footsteps he heard splashing on the wet pavement.
Shadows emerged from the alley where his car had stopped without explanation. He detected voices behind him as well, softly chanting, “Ajaw Tzolk’in, Ajaw Tzolk’in, Ajaw Tzolk’in.”
His heart pounding, he darted down a side street and around a corner. Up ahead, he spied an alcove next to a parking garage entrance; perhaps he could hide there. He ran as fast as he could and ducked into the recess in the wall. Leaning back against the bricks, he gasped for air.
The chanting receded in the distance. He recited a prayer of thanks from his childhood and began to calm down.
“Hello, Martin.”
Darkness.
16
From a drug-induced slumber, Martin woke to find himself tied to a chair in a dimly lit room. A quick inspection revealed bare concrete walls and no windows. The door was probably behind him, but he couldn’t turn to see since the chair was bolted to the floor. The air smelled musty, so he guessed the room was in a basement or cellar.
Other than a few boxes in the corner, the only object he could make out was a small figurine on a pedesta
l in front of him. A shaft of light from somewhere above illuminated the statue, human in form but with strange facial features like a wild animal.
“It’s a were-jaguar.”
The voice startled him. He hadn’t realized someone else was in the room.
“Pure jade. A national treasure which we acquired from the Museum of Antiquities without their knowledge. It’s very old, even older than our earliest Maya ancestors. For thousands of years, the people of Mesoamerica have revered the jaguar. Swift, agile, powerful. Some believe jaguars can cross between this world and the spirit world, transforming from one shape to another. The perfect hunter. Some say a god.”
The speaker circled the chair so Martin could see him. Young, early twenties perhaps, dressed in a black leather vest with metal studs. His face and arms were covered with animal spots. His eye ridges were oddly shaped, his ears slightly pointed. He smiled at Martin’s reaction, showing off sharp teeth.
“Biomodification. Not merely cosmetic, I assure you. Unlike our spineless rulers who only wear ceremonial spotted robes on special occasions and adopt the name ‘B’alam.’ No, the true children of the jaguar do not fear total transformation, total commitment to the ancient ways.”
Martin’s mind raced, seeking to comprehend what was going on. “Who are you people? And what do you want with me?”
“As an outsider, Martin, I wouldn’t expect you to understand. Our people stand at the crossroads of history. The fundamental nature of the Maya is at stake. For centuries we have pursued the future while betraying our past. We have created marvels of science and technology, enriching the coffers of the elite ruling class, but we have neglected our sacred beliefs and impoverished our spirits.”
The jaguar man began pacing like an animal in a cage. “Almost fifty years ago at the time of the Great Revival, the rulers promised that our people would achieve a balance between future and past. But now, our current Overlords only pretend to honor the rituals of our ancestors. These hypocrites make a splendid show of blood-letting. We were there today and witnessed the circus meant to please the mindless crowds. Politicians use religion to manipulate the masses.”
He barked out a cruel laugh. “But we scoff at their cowardice. In the old times, the king would slit his tongue with a stingray spine and pull a rope of thorns through it. Horrifying, but it’s true. They knew the painful price of offering proper sacrifice to the gods.”
The man stepped over to the jade statue and brushed his hand over its surface with reverence, then turned back to his captive. “These Overlords! They call themselves the Jaguar Twins, but you know that’s a lie, don’t you? They aren’t natural brothers. The second one is a clone. We like to call him Unen B’alam, ‘Baby Jaguar.’ We suspect this practice of producing a false twin has gone on for several generations to permit the royal family to maintain its hold on power. But this mighty tower built on pretense collapses today.”
Martin shuddered at the sinister tone of his pronouncement. “What have you done?”
“A medic who drew the royal blood earlier today supports our cause. He anointed his needle with a slow-working but very lethal toxin. One of our exalted monarchs lies on his deathbed at this moment.”
“The clone?”
“It doesn’t matter. Once the ruler has no twin, he will rule no longer. The people will see to that.”
“Couldn’t he create a new clone of himself?”
“Then everyone would know he’s a fake, his authority an empty charade. No, for this family line, the tragic farce is over.”
“But what’s my role in all this? As you said, I’m not one of your people. Why am I here?” Martin’s heart pounded as he feared the answer.
“The Old Ones knew that the king’s sacrifice was not enough to appease the thirsty gods. A river of blood must flow. Thus, as the newly appointed Lord of Time, you will join the Lords of Signs, Numbers, and Emptiness on the sacred altar tonight.”
Suddenly, a group of were-jaguars surrounded Martin, having entered the room as stealthily as their namesake. Each showed the signs of biomodification at different stages, some with claws for fingernails, others with elongated snouts. They unbound his arms and led him down the hall into a gloomy chamber lit with one small fire pit. The flames cast long, ominous shadows on the walls while illuminating a dark-stained stone altar at the center of the room. The three other lords stood by, terrified at the gruesome sight and their dire prospects.
Mentally, Martin cried out, “LOGOS, what can I do? I don’t want to die!”
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The were-jaguars shoved him toward the group of victims. Tension rose in the air as the people gathered around in anticipation of the primal ritual. Their leader raised his hands and stepped forward to speak — then the room plunged into darkness.
Amidst the startled shouts of alarm and anger, Martin heard a familiar voice behind him.
“Hurry, this way!”
Hands pulled him through the confusion and away from the darkened chamber. His savior directed him through the blackness down several passageways until he felt a draft coming from above. Peering up, he saw stars through a hole at the top of a ladder which he began to climb. Once on street level, he turned to his mysterious companion, and in the bright moonlight he recognized her.
“Chimal! How did you find me? What happened back there?” He then noticed a few dark spots around her neck, and he stepped back. “Don’t tell me — you’re one of them?”
She touched her throat self-consciously. “I was almost, until I saw what they were going to do tonight. I knew they were strange, but not that fanatical.” She pointed down the street to a waiting vehicle. “We should go. They’ll send out search parties soon, and they are terrific hunters.”
Running to the car, they climbed in, locked the doors, and Chimal punched in a destination. Once the car floated smoothly on its way, she explained the situation. “I decided to fight my deportation. It’s not my fault when I was born. I told my parents to escape the country to the States; they have distant cousins in Florida. I may never see them again, but at least they won’t suffer because of me.”
She wiped tears from her cheeks, then continued. “I had heard about the jaguar gangs and thought anyone willing to stand up against the injustices of this regime would be my natural allies. But after tonight, I realize how dangerous they are. That’s not for me. ‘No Kaan do,’ as the kids say. Lucky for me, I had only started my bio-treatments, and one of those was night-vision enhancement.” He noticed her eyes shone like a cat’s in the darkness.
“So that’s how we escaped.” Martin looked through the rear window to check if anyone was following them.
“I attended the ceremony today with the others.” She reached out to touch his arm. “I’m sorry, but I foolishly told them about knowing you and even pointed out your car, not realizing that they intended to sabotage it. When I heard they had captured you, I arranged to be on fire duty in the main hall tonight, making it easy to have a bucket of sand ready to extinguish it.”
“Chimal, I’m forever grateful. You are an amazing young woman. But what will you do now? You have two groups of enemies after you, the government and the were-gang.”
“I’m not sure. All of this happened so fast. I may head south to the kingdom of Calakmul. Their overlords have not supported New Palenque since we allied with the northern city-states against them in the last border war. I’m hoping they may offer protection for a political refugee if I can make it to their territory.”
“If anyone can, I’m sure you will.” His assurance made her smile.
“What about you? The jaguars know where you live. They won’t surrender their sacrificial victim so easily.”
“But they may not know where I work. Our project was top secret except at the highest levels. Once I get there, I believe I finally have a plan.”
17
Chronos Project
Personal Mission Log: Dr. Martin Chamb
erlain
Departure date: 13.2.7.7.11 / 6 Chuwen / 19 Ch’en
Target destination: Tikal
Target date: 9.5.5.14.5 / 3 Chikchan / 18 Kumku
I’m submitting a supplemental report on my trip back to the Maya city of Tikal in the year 540 AD. On previous missions, I kept a running journal of my experiences as they occurred, hoping to capture the immediate sense of wonder and excitement of my visit to each period. However, the events of the last twelve hours have been too harrowing to make such a record. I have mainly focused on staying alive.
After Chimal’s daring rescue, I returned to the project site. Although it was early morning, Andrea was already in her office. I convinced her that I had fully recovered from the disorientation I experienced after the last jump, and told her I was ready to try again, this time going to the prominent Maya city of Tikal.
I had an idea that gave me a potential return date. From a graduate course on the demise of ancient civilizations, I remembered one proposed theory about the Maya. In 540 AD, the volcano at El Chichón, Mexico, erupted, causing great clouds of ash to darken the sun for months. Poisonous gas spread through the region, and fiery stones rained from the sky. Reports of atmospheric disturbance occurred around the world. Although the Maya survived this catastrophe, for over one hundred years Tikal and other cities halted all construction projects of temples and monuments and deserted some areas entirely, according to archaeological records.
Using LOGOS’s link to the datasphere, we found that modern Maya scientists had studied volcanic activity in the Americas extensively. With their advanced calculations, they had pinpointed the day of this particular eruption. This information provided me with a precise jump date and a strategy to convince the Maya of my prophetic abilities.