Department of Temporal Investigations

by Christopher L. Bennett

  “The Fethetrit are a prime example of this. Their heightened aggression and ferocity were survival traits in the fiercely competitive environment in which they evolved. But those traits are maladaptive for a civilized society with fewer dangers or predators to overcome. Without a natural release, their fierceness was turned to war, conquest, brutality, the ruthless enslavement and slaughter of others. Left to their own devices, they would probably have wiped themselves out, or nearly so. Over generations, the more violent ones would have killed each other off and those traits might have been bred out of the species enough to let them become a more functional civilization.

  “But instead, the Aegis prevented their self-destruction. We allowed their savagery to succeed, spared them from having to learn from its consequences.” She gazed out at the river valley that would one day be her second home. “And that makes the Aegis responsible for all the destruction the Fethetrit would go on to wreak, in the past and in the future. And not just them—all the warlike races that the Aegis has spared from harsh lessons, like the Klingons and Cardassians.”

  “But the Aegis helped other races survive long enough to overcome their violent natures,” Ranjea said, “and go on to become positive forces in the galaxy—Vulcans, Deltans, Tomika, humans. We were allowed to make mistakes that almost destroyed us, but helped to survive the worst of their consequences so that we would still be here to learn from them.”

  “That’s the idea,” Daiyar acknowledged. “But it doesn’t always work out that way. And our timeless masters don’t seem to care about the distinction.”

  “Is there a distinction? Generally, those entities with the greatest capacity to do harm are also the ones with the greatest capacity to do good. It’s simply a matter of redirecting their energies toward something more positive. Like the way the Fethetrit helped defend the Gum Nebula against the cosmozoans. In so doing, maybe they saved more worlds than they destroyed. Perhaps that’s the potential the Aegis saw in them.”

  “You’re not saying you approve of the Aegis’s activities?” the Tomika asked, incredulous. “That’s not exactly the DTI party line.”

  “I’m merely saying it’s neither a pure good nor a pure evil. It seems to me that what the Aegis does for civilizations is analogous to what modern medicine does for individuals: protecting those that would otherwise be wiped out by the ruthless winnowing of genetics, allowing them to achieve potential that might otherwise have been wasted. If someone whose life a doctor saves goes on to commit a murder, is the doctor to blame for that?”

  Those dark eyes held his intently. “If you were that doctor, could you so easily say no?” Ranjea’s inability to reply provided the answer. Daiyar went on, “You don’t really get it, do you? You think of the Fethetrit’s crisis as being from the past, of me as being from the future. In the Aegis, time is more intertwined than that. We move freely through history, correspond with our ancestors and descendants, work together in mapping out the whole interwoven tapestry of time so that we can know when and how to intervene. My own work as a monitor and researcher provided information to a great many Aegis operations spanning thousands of years, both past and future. The Fethetrit crisis was one of those operations. I contributed information that would help the Fethetrit survive their crisis in the past—so I had a hand in destroying this world, and my one great love, in the future. Along with all the countless other worlds that have suffered horribly at Fethetrit claws, and all that will suffer in centuries to come.

  “I cannot let that stand, Ranjea. The Fethetrit were, perhaps, the Aegis’s greatest mistake. Whatever benefit they provided the galaxy is not enough to offset the horrors they inflict. We should have left them to their own fate.” She sat back down to resume her work. “And that is what I intend to do.”

  * * *

  This time, the mists of the Aegis transporter deposited the DTI agents, Rodal, and Meneth in a wooded area not far from where Daiyar’s scout ship had been located, on a world the Aegis files had identified as Lakina II. Rodal sent Meneth on to scout ahead, and Teresa Garcia watched as the bobcat-sized Simperian civet vanished silently into the underbrush, her green fur blending in nearly perfectly with the blue-green vegetation. Garcia hadn’t noticed a blue tinge in her fur back at the Aegis outpost. Was the light different in this environment, or had Meneth actually shifted the color of her pelt for camouflage?

  But Garcia was too preoccupied to reflect on alien metamorphic parameters. Her concern for Ranjea had returned to the forefront of her thoughts now that they were close to his abductor, although it had never been far from her attention. She tried to reach out with her mind, hoping to catch some trace of the empathic bond she believed she shared with Ranjea, to send him her strength and reassure him that she was near. But she felt nothing beyond emptiness and fear—her own. The longer the group waited for Meneth’s return, the more Garcia fidgeted and strained to move forward.

  “Remember your discipline, Agent Garcia,” came Lucsly’s voice. “You won’t be of any use to Agent Ranjea if you act prematurely or recklessly.”

  She threw him a look. “That cold approach may work for you and Dulmur. Ranjea and I have our own way of working. Our emotions, our instincts, they’re our strength. We’re not reckless just because we use our feelings.”

  “Just make sure they aren’t using you.”

  “Do you have anything to offer besides clichés? What does that even mean?”

  Dulmur stepped in. “Garcia,” he said in a gentle but firm voice, catching her eye and giving her a “cool it” gesture. “Save it for Daiyar.”

  The young agent nodded sheepishly. “Right.” She glanced over at Rodal. “I’d feel better if we had a larger team. Or at least if we’d been issued some Aegis weapons.”

  “The servos are complex instruments,” Rodal said, keeping his cool as well as Lucsly. “It takes time to master them. And supervisors are trained to handle far greater problems than this with little or no assistance. The way of the Aegis is to wield our influence minimally and strategically, not through open force.”

  “That’s ironic,” Garcia said. “In our mythology, aegis was the name of the shield or breastplate of Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom—who was also a mighty warrior.”

  Rodal studied her. “Puzzling—to see war and wisdom as anything but opposites. I wonder why Gary Seven chose that term to represent our name in your language.”

  Dulmur answered. “Probably because it’s become a metaphor for the protection or support of someone powerful. A shield they use to protect others, not just themselves.”

  “I see. That is a good interpretation. Our benefactors have so much power,” Rodal reflected, “and yet they dedicate it entirely to the protection of others. It is a value instilled in us throughout our lives.” He shook his head. “I cannot understand how Daiyar could have strayed so far from their teachings.”

  “Daiyar seems to think,” Lucsly replied, “that what she’s trying to do will be beneficial in the long run.”

  “And yet she’s willing to use violence to achieve it—to wreak violence on the timeline to impose her preferred shape of events. That is what we stand against.”

  Only a faint rustle of the undergrowth heralded Meneth’s return. Rodal knelt to meet her and brushed her fur clean of small leaves and burrs while she mewled and trilled softly to him. “Daiyar’s repairs on the temporal drive appear to be nearing completion,” he interpreted. “Fortunately, she is working outside her scout ship. I would recommend intercepting her before she reenters the ship, since it will be more difficult to reach her if she does.”

  “What about Ranjea?” Garcia asked.

  Again, Rodal listened to Meneth for a moment before answering. “He appears unrestrained, but Meneth sees signs that he’s under the hypnotic influence of a servo. He may need assistance in getting away from Daiyar. Meneth and I will attempt to give you three the opportunity to achieve that. But we s
hould move quickly.”

  Garcia stepped forward. “Finally, we agree on something! So let’s go!”

  “Just one moment more,” Rodal cautioned, removing his slim, silver servo instrument from a pocket and beginning to adjust the dials on its lower half. “She no doubt has perimeter sensors engaged. This setting should mask our approach.” He thumbed a sliding collar on the device into a lowered position, exposing two tiny globes that sprang out to the sides on stiff wires. “But it cannot block her hearing, so I advise we move quietly.”

  The group headed out single file, following Meneth’s lead—first Rodal, then the eager Garcia, then Dulmur, with Lucsly bringing up the rear. The sleek, green-furred civet was briefly blocked from Garcia’s view by Rodal’s frame, and a moment later, she had been replaced by an equally sleek, scantily attired humanoid female with golden skin and short, straight hair the same hue as the civet’s. The humanoid looked back, revealing a strikingly beautiful face whose species Garcia couldn’t identify, and gestured to the others to follow her lead as quietly as possible. Garcia tried to take Meneth’s transformation in stride, having been briefed on the Aegis’s mysterious shapeshifting companions, but it was still startling to see it happen—especially since no one ever seemed to catch one of them in the act of changing. Garcia wondered why Meneth had bothered to transform, but it soon became clear that her humanoid form was more effective for showing the other humanoids the best, quietest path down the wooded hillside.

  Soon, they reached the edge of a clearing in which Garcia could see Daiyar’s scout ship and two figures—Daiyar and Ranjea. The Tomika woman was already lifting the completed time drive off a worktable, preparing to carry it into the ship. They had arrived with barely a moment to spare.

  As Rodal and the DTI agents crept toward the edge of the trees, Woman-Meneth broke away and crept around behind the ship. Once Rodal stepped into the open, Garcia realized their plan: he would serve as the decoy while the shapeshifter came up from behind. Trading a look, the humans moved out into view behind Rodal, hand phasers at the ready.

  “Vilaka Daiyar Sem!” Rodal called.

  The rogue reacted swiftly, tucking the drive under her right arm while thrusting her servo forward in her left, its globes extended. The servo’s tip waved smoothly back and forth, enough to indicate that she was ready to target any of the four agents. “Stay back,” Daiyar warned. “I have no wish to kill, but that will not stop me if I must.”

  “Do those things even have kill settings?” Garcia whispered to Lucsly.

  “At their highest level,” he replied, “they can cut through half a meter of tritanium alloy as if it were butter.”

  She blinked, wondering how Lucsly even knew that. “Sorry I asked.”

  “I do not underestimate your resolve, Daiyar,” Rodal was saying. “But you must not underestimate ours. You hope to save a colony from eradication. We hope to save countless billions from the same.”

  “I won’t argue philosophy with you,” she replied. “I don’t need to. Ranjea, protect me.”

  Stiffening, the Deltan hesitated for a moment, then strode forward and placed himself between the agents and Daiyar.

  “No!” Garcia called. “Partner! You can fight her control! Listen to my voice. Concentrate!”

  “I’m sorry, Teresa,” Ranjea replied. “This hypnosis is particularly effective on me. I have a . . . strong incentive of my own to wish Daiyar to remain unharmed.”

  Garcia wanted to demand an explanation—but it seemed unnecessary, for Meneth was making her move. The shapeshifter leaped out from behind the ship, again in feline form—but this time as a Simperian panther. Daiyar spotted the supple green-black predator out of the corner of her eye, ducking and rolling just in time to avoid her claws—or rather, her paws; Garcia belatedly realized the panther’s claws were sheathed. Meneth was trying to take Daiyar alive, if possible.

  As Meneth landed beside Ranjea and circled back around, Daiyar recovered into a crouch and aimed her servo. Its globes flashed blue, and Meneth bounded away just in time to avoid an invisible but piercingly audible burst that kicked up a sizable divot of semivaporized dirt and grass. Garcia tried to get a clean shot as the Tomika and the panther circled each other, but Ranjea kept himself in the line of fire, a look of apologetic resignation on his face as he held Garcia’s gaze.

  Meneth dodged another servo blast, then swerved left to evade another—but then, unexpectedly, a bright orange phaser beam shot from Daiyar’s right hand, spearing Meneth in the side. The panther fell stunned, evoking a cry from Rodal, and Garcia realized that Daiyar must have relieved Ranjea of his hand phaser upon his capture and palmed it during the fight. Meneth had expected the Aegis weapon, but not a Federation weapon, allowing Daiyar to lure her into a trap. Damn, she’s good.

  “We’re going now,” Daiyar called, renewing her grip on the time drive and bringing her servo to bear on the agents once again. “Ranjea, with me.”

  “Daiyar,” Lucsly called, “think about what you’re doing. You’re a former operative, trained for decades in preserving the stability of time. You’re a lifelong product of a society that values reason, restraint, and patience. Do you really think all this chaos, all this disruption, can lead to anything but more chaos? Are you willing to risk unleashing that?”

  “I intend to do just the opposite of that, Agent Lucsly,” she said, backing toward the hatch of the ship. Ranjea began to move as well, keeping pace with her.

  “Then prove it,” Garcia called, her voice pleading. “We know you’re trying to save people you cared about. Well, we care about Ranjea. So you know how we’ll feel—how I’ll feel—if you take him from us. Please, Daiyar, let him stay here.”

  “I can’t take that chance,” she said as she stepped into the hatch. “I need to ensure a clean getaway. But I promise you, I will set Ranjea free once I no longer need him.”

  “This is pointless, Daiyar!” Rodal exclaimed. “You know our methods. You know that you cannot make any change that the Aegis cannot undo. This is a futile effort!”

  “Yes, I know your methods, Supervisor. That is why I made sure I had a way to counteract them. Goodbye.”

  She vanished into the ship, and Garcia grunted in frustration as Ranjea followed her inside. His big, beautiful eyes stayed locked on hers as the hatch closed, and she prayed that it wasn’t the last time she’d ever see them.

  As Rodal ran over to Meneth’s side, a deflector shield flickered into view around the scout ship. The DTI agents moved in, and Dulmur said, “She’ll still need time to install the drive. Is there any way we can storm the ship? Or disable it?”

  “Rodal,” Lucsly said, “your servo can deactivate her shields.”

  Assured of Meneth’s condition, the supervisor rose. “As a rule, it could. But Daiyar would know how to modify her shields to counter it.” He adjusted his servo and tried it anyway, but with no effect. The three humans fired their phasers at the energy field, but they were low-powered models, ill-equipped to take on spaceship shields.

  Moments later, the ship’s thrusters began to warm up, and Rodal called a retreat out of the blast radius. Garcia was unable to move until Dulmur pulled at her arm, startling her into motion. After a few paces, it occurred to her to wonder about Meneth. Glancing back, she saw that the panther had apparently recovered enough to change back into a civet, which Rodal carried easily in his arms as he jogged away from the ship. Some analytical part of Garcia’s mind carped at her about the paradox of shapeshifters and conservation of mass, but she was in no state to pursue the question. All she could do was turn her head and stare as the scout ship lifted skyward and shrank swiftly into the distance, taking her partner along with it. Moments after it had shrunk to invisibility, she caught another brief glint of light, a streak on the edge of visibility that culminated in an actinic starburst. The ship had gone to warp—and probably clear out of the century.

  �
��We must return to base,” Rodal said. “Perhaps our experts can find some way to trace her course. If nothing else, perhaps we can identify the moment of her temporal disruption in time to neutralize its propagation.” He worked his servo.

  But nothing happened. Rodal fiddled with it some more. “Observation post 80793, this is Supervisor 341. Come in.” There was no reply, not even a carrier hum. “Director, Agents, can you attempt a hail? We are far from Federation space, but there should be Colonial Consortium ships within range.”

  Dulmur activated the comm pin on his collar and spent several moments attempting to raise someone, with no results. Neither Lucsly nor Garcia had any more luck. “What’s going on?”

  Lucsly drew out his temporal tricorder and scanned the area. “I’m not getting any subspace readings. Of any kind, on any band. Even the tricorder’s subspace sensors aren’t working. Only electromagnetic bands.”

  “I’m getting the same results,” Rodal said, continuing to manipulate his servo, though Garcia was unsure how the silver stylus was communicating its data to him. “I think I understand what Daiyar has done. She must have used the temporal drive to create a localized subspace disruption field, similar to the effect of an Omega molecule detonation, though less extreme.”

  “What’s an Omega molecule?” Garcia asked.