by Greg Logan
Chuck chuckled. “Away team. I love the Star Trek talk you guys are always using. Who’d’a thought a genius like Scott would be such a dork.”
“Geek,” Sammy said. “The word is geek. He’s a geek, not a dork.”
“What’s the difference, dude?”
“Geeks can have girlfriends and dorks can’t,” Sammy said, tapping away at membrane switches. The central computer was responding with a stream of binary code only Sammy could hear.
“Why not?”
“What girl would want to be with a dork?”
Chuck squinted as he tried to process that one.
Sammy said, “Listen, we’ve lost contact with the away team. What part of that do you not understand? I don’t have time for your inane babble.”
“Inane?” Chuck was about to be offended, but then his beer-fuzzed mind caught up with what Sammy had said. “You lost contact with the away team? I didn’t know you were in contact with them. I mean, how do you remain in contact with someone in an alternate universe, seven thousand years in the past?”
“We have two wormholes open, and we bounce a signal from our universe to theirs, and off of a satellite we put in orbit. Then, from the satellite, through the second wormhole, to the past. The signal is expected to be a bit degraded and warped, but it’s still there. Or at least it should be. It was until a moment ago.”
“Degraded and warped? I’ve been called a few things like that. There’s an ex-wife, and a couple former girlfriends..,”
“Somehow, I’m not surprised.”
“Did you say wormhole? More Star Trek talk?”
“No. Well, yes, but no. A wormhole is a multidimensional gateway...oh, forget it. The thing is, I’ve lost all contact. There appeared to be a sudden spike in zeta energy, which could cause such a contact to be lost. Something about the relationship between zeta energy and tachyon waves. For reasons Scott and I have yet to fully understand, zeta seems to neutralize tachyon in every test we’ve conducted. In fact, it seems to disrupt pretty much every energy field we’ve tested it against, but it has its most volatile effect on tachyon energy.”
“You mean, it’s like you’re saying Jake suddenly powered-up, and when he did that, it broke your contact with the team.”
Sammy looked at him wearily. “It’s not like I am saying that. It’s that I’m precisely saying that.”
Chuck was about to ask what could have happened seven thousand years in the past that could cause Jake to have to power-up. But before he did, he cast a glance behind himself. After all, one of his jobs during the away team’s mission was to help Sammy baby-sit little Jeffy.
A blanket had been spread on the floor in the doorway to the alcove, and Jeff had been sound asleep on it when Chuck had cracked his most recent beer—his eighth so far today but who’s counting—and settled back in the chair to watch his ball game.
However, Jeffy was no longer there. Where could a kid that young have crawled off to? Chuck cast a quick glance about, but Jeffy was nowhere in sight.
“Uh, Jeffy’s gone.” He sprang out of the chair, setting his beer on the console.
“Don’t leave that there,” Sammy said. “It could spill all through the circuitry.”
But Chuck was hurrying out the doorway of the computer alcove, calling out, “Jeffy! Jeffy!”
Sammy decided to leave the panic to Chuck, because after all, how far could a child as young as Jeffy go? Sammy would instead focus on the problem of the away team, and trying to re-establish the tachyon beam he had been using to monitor them.
He could find them again by honing in on one specific factor that wouldn’t exist anywhere in that time period, except among the away team. Scott’s brain waves. They were unique to any other life form Sammy had ever studied. Of course, the brain waves of every person were unique to an extent, like a fingerprint, but Scott’s were so bizarrely unique. Brainwave-wise, Scott was almost like an entirely different species.
“Sam,” Chuck called back. “We got a real problem.”
“Yes, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
“No, I mean,” Chuck stepped back into the alcove. “Jeffy’s missing. He’s, like, nowhere. I’ve checked everywhere.”
Sammy said, “Computer, locate Jeffy.”
The computer said, in a female voice which Chuck knew Scott had configured to sound like the computer voice on—you guessed it—Star Trek, “Jeffy is no longer within the complex.”
Chuck and Sammy looked at each other.
Sammy said, “It’s clear we now have two problems.”
“What could have happened? How could a one-year-old possibly just leave a facility like this? Hell, I can’t leave a facility like this. I have to get you to teleport me.”
“The only door is the one on the hangar deck.”
“Oh, right. Like that’s an option. There’s a sheer drop of more than two hundred feet just outside the door. Step out through there, and you fall down the friggin’ mountain. And I can’t fly around like Jake does. Battle suit, or not. It would give me the willies.””
“This place was designed not to be easy to gain access to.”
A new stream of information began flowing from the central computer to the receiver in Sammy’s head.
“Hold on a sec,” Sammy said, eyes on the screens. One of them showed a flowing line graph, and the line seemed to be curving upward.
Chuck was finding a wave of exasperation growing. “Now what?”
Sammy said, his eyes still on the screen, “Actually, two whats. The complex’s central computer recorded an outgoing surge of tachyon energy.”
Chuck’s exasperation was not easing. “That would be the away team. Didn’t they beam out of here into the past?”
“This wave of tachyon energy occurred just two point three minutes ago. And it appears to be shaped roughly like a cyclone.”
Chuck’s hands were open. He was about to say, who cares? Jeffy was missing. They had to find him.
Sammy continued, oblivious to Chuck’s agitated state or just not caring. “The tachyon field generated by our equipment is roughly flat with sharp edges. This one seems to reflect the curves and circles found in nature. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was created organically.”
Before Chuck could scream, Sammy said, “And now, a second cyclonic tachyon field seems to be forming. Centering, oddly, in the kitchen.”
Chuck now looked at him puzzledly. The exasperation began to fade. “Huh?”
Sammy said, “Something is materializing within the complex, in the kitchen.”
“What could it be?”
“Unknown. But we should proceed with caution. It might be reasonable to hypothesize that this entity had something to do with the disappearance of Jeffy. The first cyclonic wave of tachyon energy seemed to originate around his blanket.”
Chuck found himself wishing he had taken the time to put on his battle suit. Without it, he was no more effective than any other guy. He followed Sammy at a run out of the alcove and into the general lab, and from there down a corridor which came out in the kitchen.
The room was long and narrow, with one brushed steel door leading to a walk-in refrigeration unit, and another to a walk-in freezer. The walls were of concrete, painted white, and on them were mounted white melamine cabinets. A stove that ran on a nuclear fusion generator was attached to one wall.
Standing in the center of the room was a boy. He looked to be about thirteen. He was in a t-shirt and jeans, and his hair needed cutting.
The computer voice said, “Jeffy is now once again within the complex.”
“Who are you?” Chuck asked.
The boy said, “I’m Jeff. Who are you?”
Sammy said, “Astounding.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Earth (but not ours), 2532 AD.
She was twenty-three years old and already one of Pharaoh’s best warriors. Her skin was the color of copper and her hair was as black as the night. She kept her hair no longer than
shoulder length, so it would not be cumbersome in battle, and cut straight across her brows to keep it out of her eyes.
She was wearing a blue robe that dropped to her ankles. She wore no shoes. She seldom did—she seldom did—and liked the feel of the cold stone floor on her bare feet.
Mounted on one wall was a collection of three swords. One had a blade no more than a half meter in length, one had a longer double-edged blade also a half meter in length. And the third had a blade the length of her arm, and curved. Some sword fighters were thrusters and preferred a straight blade, but she was a slasher and slashers liked a curved blade.
She stood facing a window. Her feet were spaced apart to the width of her shoulders and her hands were lightly gripped in front of her. Her eyes were shut. She breathed deeply but easily, letting her mind clear. She needed to be focused for what lay ahead this day.
Kontar walked into the room, his beard showing some gray. With him was Antula, the minister of science to the Pharaoh.
“Akila, we are ready,” Kontar said. “We have his majesty’s permission to begin at once.”
Antula was an older man, with a shaven head. He wore a white linen tunic, a kilt that dropped to his knees, and sandals.
He said, “I still do not think you are going to find anything. I believe it is all merely myth. A large stone falling from the sky and turning the world into perpetual winter.”
Kontar placed a hand on the minister’s shoulder. “We shall see, old friend.”
Kontar turned his gaze to Akila. “Where is Hasani now?”
She said, “In the courtyard, below. Preparing. After all, this jump is greater than any he has ever attempted before. He is in silent meditation.”
“Then let us proceed to the courtyard.”
Akila shouldered out of her robe and rolled it up and dropped it to her roll of bedding. She stood in a white linen loin cloth, and with a strip of linen tied about her chest. A tattoo of a snake began at her right ankle and wound its way up her leg, finishing its ascent at the top of her thigh. She reached to the sword with the curved blade and removed it from the wall. She then slid it into a leather sheath and slung it over her shoulder so the sword was resting against her back.
She and Kontar followed Antula from the room.
As they walked, the minister said, “I am deeply concerned about this jump.”
“We have made them before,” Kontar said.
“Yes,” the minister said, the leather soles of his sandals making a whispering sound along the stone tiles. “But as Akila said, this is a greater jump than Hasani has ever attempted.”
“We should be safe,” Akila said. Her bare feet touched down silently as she moved. “We each have our own ability. When we work together in harmony, there is little that can create a threat to us.”
“Little that we know of, my child. But there is an infinite number of possible unknowns out there.”
Kontar smiled. “You are a pessimist, my master.”
“I surely am.”
“I do wish you were coming with us. We are stronger with you.”
The old man allowed a wistful smile. “Adventuring is for the youth. Advising is for the old.”
They found Hasani in the courtyard, a wide open area surrounded with flat-roofed buildings made of stone and stucco. Aside from Hasani, the courtyard was empty, but by mid-morning it would be filled with people conducting various kinds of business. Some with livestock. Cows, camels, horses. Others simply milling about. It was the center of commerce in this, their land’s capitol city. Hasani stood in silent mediation as he prepared for what would be required of him.
The eastern sky was beginning to lighten with the fiery hues of sunrise. It was spring and the Great River was running deep as it always did at this time of year, overflowing its banks and turning what would otherwise be dry desert sands into fertile earth. Though they were a half hour march from the river, the smell of water and life was rich in the morning air.
Hasani was shirtless, revealing a tightly muscled physique. He often went shirtless, as did many men, because of the extreme heat the day could bring in this part of the world.
Without turning to face them, he said, “You approach. I presume the hour is nigh?”
“Indeed it is,” Kontar said.
“Good. I am ready. Let us begin.”
Hasani opened his eyes, his gaze falling on the woman.
He said, “I do like your working clothes, Akila.”
“I like to be able to move freely.”
“I have always thought so.”
She shot him a glance, and he grinned.
Hasani was merely a friend, but Akila found herself wishing he was more. Not that their friendship was entirely chaste, as this was a sexually permissive society and not one to place taboos on what developed naturally between two people. But there was no deeply rooted romance. No love. He saw her as a friend, occasionally a temporary lover, and sometimes a teammate on missions such as the one they were about to conduct. But he was too focused on his research and his service to Pharaoh to be searching for any woman to build a life with.
The three of them were chosen for this mission and others like it, because they each had an extraordinary ability which set them aside from the rest of humanity. Hasani’s was to unravel the strands of time and space and step through them, and to bring others along with him. Kontar had the ability to generate static electricity, and fire it through his hands. He could do this with enough power to incinerate an elephant instantly. And Akila had the ability of agility and strength. She could lift Hasani and Kontar together with one arm. And as Hasani had said playfully once, she had the agility of a monkey.
The minister had an ability, also. His was of the mind, to reach out and touch the minds of others. To share their thoughts.
“If we are ready,” Hasani said, “then gather about me.”
Akila stood at one side of Hasani and Kontar at the other. Hasani engaged his power.
Akila felt tingles begin at her feet and work their way up, as the courtyard with its stone buildings faded from view to be replaced by a grassy field.
A breeze starkly cooler than the desert winds of her homeland touched her face and moved her hair. She found herself thinking maybe she should not have discarded her robe.
Hasani said, “If I have estimated our location correctly, we are currently on the north side of the Great Sea.”
The Great Sea, which bordered their home country, the Black Land. Their country gained its name from the color of the fertile soil created by the yearly overflowing of the Great River.
Hasani continued, “Based on the studies conducted by Antula, this section of the continent should be largely unpopulated in this time. And as such, should give us a good chance of not polluting the time line by our presence.”
Kontar said, “Are we close enough that we can observe the descent of the Great Stone as it falls earthward?”
“According to Antula, we should be. He theorizes it should strike on the other side of the world and create a cataclysmic explosion. As far away as we are, we are as close as we dare be. But according to legend, the stone struck during the night, so we should be able to see at least part of its fiery descent from here.”
“So,” Akila said, “how long must we wait?”
Hasani smiled. “To part the threads of time and step through is not an exact science. Hopefully not more than a few days. A few weeks at the most.”
“Then,” Kontar said, “the first priority should be to scout about the immediate vicinity. Search for signs of any roving bands of humans and make certain we avoid all contact with them. And to find a suitable place to build a camp.”
Akila said, “I think we should travel together. We will cover less ground, but until we know the area we should proceed with caution.”
Kontar bowed his head toward her. “You are along as our guard. I bow to your judgment.”
Hasani said, “Let us walk west.”
Akila took the
lead, with Hasani behind her and Kontar in the rear.
Hasani said, “I must admit, I would feel safer had you brought along more weapons. A bow and arrows. A spear. You are unrivaled in your ability with either, and we will need meat if we have to survive in this time for a few weeks.”
“I am hindered by them. I have my blade. This is all I need. For fighting or hunting.”
They had not walked long when she suddenly stopped. “There, in the sky. Ahead of us.”
Hasani followed her gaze. He could see four objects flying above the trees. They had to be birds, he thought. Though they seemed to have no wings. As they drew closer, he saw they appeared to be shaped like humans.
Kontar said, “I see them.”
“What could they be?” Hasani said. “They look to be people.”
“People like us, maybe,” Akila said. “People with abilities. I see no other way a person could fly.”
Kontar said, “Stand ready. Let us allow them to make the first move.”
Hasani stood behind Akila. Though he was fairly adept at hand-to-hand combat, he was no match for her skills. He had met only three whose combat skills were of such high degree they were awarded the snake tattoo. Akila’s teacher and two others. And even they were no match for her.
Kontar stood at the other side of Akila. With his ability to throw lightning, he himself could be a formidable weapon.
The four approaching from the sky came to a light landing a few yards ahead of Akila and the others. All four were covered from the neck to their feet. Akila had never seen anyone clothed as such. She could not even guess at the material. Not linen and clearly not leather.
“What outlandish costumes,” she said.
The one standing in front of the others, who appeared to be in charge, held out his hand.
“Apparently an overture of friendship,” she said.
“Apparently,” Kontar said.
“Proceed with caution.”
Kontar returned the gesture.
Akila found herself glancing at one of them. He had dark hair and wore a body-enveloping garment of black and dark blue. There was something about the way he stood, with a sort of power and confidence as though the very gods themselves posed no threat to him, that created a tingle inside her not dissimilar to Hasani’s time-travel affect.