The Time Stone (The Time Stone Trilogy Book 1)

by Robert F Hays

  “How’s the head today Chris?”

  Chris raised a hand and slowly rubbed the back of his neck. “Still hurts. That guy hit me hard.”

  Twelve hours had elapsed since Jim’s spacewalk. The liner was under Commonwealth jurisdiction as it was in space. A coroner’s court hearing via 3V conference was concluded within two hours. The deaths of the passenger and the crewman were declared: ‘Under conditions of self-defense while in the perpetration of a crime.’

  One aspect of the concise hearing surprised Jim. A legal representative, one of the passengers, was engaged on his behalf. The rep. submitted a petition under the anonymity act to keep Jim’s identity from the media as well as anyone else without a need to know.

  The grounds for the petition were that, as Jim was the victim, any disclosure would put him at risk. So, few people knew who he was or where he was.

  On the liner there were five that knew: The captain, first mate, head of security, Chris and the legal rep.

  The Jump through parallel space was postponed. Jim’s spacewalk had interrupted the painstaking sequence of carefully calculated events that led up to a Jump. The time and place were no longer right. It would take an extra two days before corrections could be made.

  Jim was relocated to one of the liner’s luxury suites. There were six on board for those who could afford them. This one was vacant; another was occupied by the Chairman of the Board of a beverage company.

  Jim wasn’t paying for the suite. The space liner company was negotiating to be the first to serve Foster’s lager beer in their bars. Jim learned from the captain that his small brewing company was now in partnership with the galaxy’s second largest brewer. They were in the process of introducing both Budweiser and Foster’s to the public.

  Jim picked up his cup of coffee from the table in front of him and took a sip. He yearned for the donut that used to go with it and reminded himself to see if there were any recipes in one of the three cookbooks he owned. “I don’t like this at all. Everywhere I go someone gets hurt.”

  Chris looked up from his breakfast. “The bump doesn’t bother me. Of all the people in the universe, you’re the one that should be protected. Just look what’s happening ‘round the galaxy. Have you seen the 3V news lately?”

  “Not in the last couple of days.”

  “Protests all over the French Federation against the ruling families. Three planets now have caretaker governments. They’re now going after that pig Napoleon De Poulet, President for life of the French Federation.”

  “I hope no one gets hurt.”

  “People are imitating what happened in the chaos of your time.”

  “How would they know? The encyclopedia was written years before.”

  “You wrapped your things in old newspapers. I’ve been following it very closely. New understanding and pride in the past. New genetic material.”

  “Don’t forget pizza,” Jim added sarcastically.

  “Yes, haven’t tried one yet, but I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Don’t get your expectations too high.”

  “Well, I think it’s more the idea than the thing itself. That’s what someone is trying to stop, other ideas that’ll damage them but help everyone else.”

  Jim leaned back shut his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Ideas from Old Earth? We did quite well at destroying ourselves. Does the galaxy want to repeat that?”

  “No, prevent that. At all levels we learn from mistakes, and the more knowledge of mistakes that’ve been made the better. A quote came from one of those books of yours that read: ‘A people who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it’.”

  Due to his continuing program of education, Jim’s knowledge of science and history was beyond that of the average army sergeant of his former time. The man now sitting across the table appeared to be in a similar position. “You seem to know more than a cargo master should.”

  “I read a lot. Nothing to do on my time off so I’m taking 3V university courses. I like sociology subjects. That’s why I slip people on and off the ship, a little extra money to pay for it.”

  Jim smiled to himself. His suspicions were confirmed. He also felt a touch of guilt about the bother he’d caused the man. “Are you going to get into trouble over me?”

  “Hell no,” was the cheerful reply. Chris flashed his slightly lop sided smile. “Nobody bothers about that, and it got me a room in the luxury suite for the rest of the trip. Better here than my three by three quarters.”

  A twittering sound interrupted the conversation. Jim looked down at his wrist watch and pushed the button that turned off the alarm.

  “Doorbell,” Chris announced.

  “Ah, just checking the time,” he commented, then spoke into the air. “Who’s there?”

  “Mr. Greenberg, security.”

  “Door open,” Jim ordered.

  A tall, thin man entered, wearing the dark blue and red uniform of a ship’s officer. Greenberg was an ex-police officer from Bosco on the planet Bachoff. Two years before he discovered that private security paid more than his police salary. That is, for those who had intelligence beyond the take-orders level.

  “Mr. Young, we have arranged for a small executive cruiser to take you off when we reach La Raza. It was already scheduled to meet us to transport another passenger. Are you sure you want to go there?”

  “Why not?” Jim asked, suddenly lifting his head and sounding surprised at the straight forward question.

  Greenberg clasped his hands behind his back and continued in his customary emotionless manner. “Well, a near successful attempt was made on your life. The people after you seem to be well organized. I found a voice print scanner on one set to your voice. They know where you’re going.”

  “Does the thing beep?”

  “Yes, when it receives a sample of your speech it sounds an alarm.”

  “My mother used to tell me my mouth would get me into trouble one day,” Jim said, looking down at his cup.

  “Jim,” Chris said, standing, cup in hand and walking in the direction of the beverage dispenser. “Why do you want to go there anyway?”

  “I heard that the women outnumbered the men five to one.”

  Greenberg briefly scanned his pad. “Speaking of women Mr. Young, there are two on board that keep asking me about you.”

  “Do they know about the murder attempt?” Jim didn’t have to ask their names.

  “Everyone on board knows about the attempted murder of a Mr. Mick Jagger.”

  Jim chuckled to himself over the statement that would have made headlines in every western nation on Old Earth. “I’d like to explain things to them, maybe later. Could you sit down for a while Mr. Greenberg? I’d like to get your opinion on a few things about the situation.”

  Greenberg hesitated for a moment. “Mr. Young, aren’t you worried that one of us is part of this plot?”

  Jim shrugged. “No, if you were, I’d be dead by now.”

  “I see your logic.” Greenberg sat, placing his pad on the table in front of him.

  “Well, try this for logic. The first two days of this trip all I could do was think. You say this thing’s organized. Why?”

  Greenberg locked his fingers and rested his hands on the table. “The beeping man, as you described him, made three V phone calls after you say he spotted you, all of them to different planets. The second man was a member of the crew. That’s how they could get into the arms locker. From what we can gather, they had never met before. They had totally different backgrounds. From that I would suspect organization.”

  “That follows from my experiences on Batalavia. They seemed to be into everything: banks, transport, government, the university, everywhere.”

  “Yes, I still have some concern over other crewmen or passengers. From the situation I gather that I cannot trust anyone.”

  “So, whatever this organization is, it’s very large. But, very few know of the plot to kill me.”

  “How do you
figure that?” Chris asked, reaching for a fresh cup from the now open recess in the beverage dispenser.

  “No one’s talked. With something that size there must be some dissident, malcontent, or moron with a big mouth. So what we have is an organization with a centralized command, switching its operatives on and off. Information is released on a need to know basis. This is made simple by the technology of this time and almost instant access to their entire organization. It’s possible that only one person wants me dead.” Jim folded his arms and stuck out his chin, he then gave Chris a slight smile. He had surprised himself with the display of deductive reasoning.

  Chris returned to his seat. “Why kill you?”

  “One or all of their leadership has a bug in his head that I’m some diabolical entity. Similar has happened before.”

  “I take it that was on Old Earth?” Chris raised an eyebrow. It was obvious to Jim that this man lived for knowledge.

  “Yes, one of the Roman Catholic Popes had an illogical fear of cats. He issued an edict that cats were the messengers of the devil and should be killed. Within a few years, hundreds of thousands of them died. The irony was that when a disease, the black plague, wiped out half of Europe it was carried by fleas on infected rats. There were no cats to keep the rat population in check.”

  “Very logical Mr. Young.”

  “Thank you Mr. Spock.”

  “Ah... The name’s Greenberg.”

  Jim cocked his head and examined Greenberg. “Oh yes, no pointed ears.”

  Greenberg looked confused. “Ah... Yes.”

  “Mr. Greenberg, how do you advise I get to Gato without attracting attention.”

  “The executive cruiser will take you to the surface, then a shuttle. Can’t do anything about your face and voice here, no facilities on board ship...”

  “My voice can be changed?” Jim interrupted, the information taking him completely by surprise.

  “Yes, simple surgery, but in your position I wouldn’t just walk into any doctor’s office to do it.”

  “How much different would I sound?” Jim asked in a puppet voice.

  “Undetectable by the human ear, but a voice print would be different. It’s a standard practice among the criminal element. The one thing they cannot change is their retinal scan, although many have tried.”

  He thought for a moment, adding a voice change to the list of things to do. “Ok, anything else?”

  “Yes, they know you’re traveling alone so go as a couple, man and woman. One of those ladies who asked about you seemed quite concerned.”

  Chris jumped to his feet with both hands on the table and leaned forward. “How about me?”

  “Chris, you’re not my type,” Jim said, trying not to laugh.

  “No, two girls plus two guys equal two couples on vacation. Is the other one good looking?”

  “Correction, equals three people in danger that shouldn’t be, and what about your job?”

  Chris suddenly became exceedingly animated waving his arms about as he talked. “Yack the job. I’m due leave and I’ll follow you anyway. I can learn more from you in half an hour than six university courses.”

  “No, no. Travel with me and you’re a target.”

  “Let me decide,” Chris said. “It’s my skin. After all, I did spend two years in the Home Guard and I do know how to handle a weapon.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Well, it was ten years, but it’ll come back to me. I’ll talk to those women. Mr. Greenberg, would you point them out for me?”

  Chris and Greenberg got up and headed toward the door.

  “No, I said,” Jim protested without result. Chris just smiled and walked through the door as it automatically opened.

  * * *

  “No wonder you knew so much about the sex life on Old Earth.” A smiling Carol stood in the minute entry vestibule.

  “I told Chris not to bring you into this,” Jim snapped.

  She entered the room with a determined stride. She was closely followed by Celia and Chris. “Well he did. We’re going to help you whether you want it or not, and that’s final.”

  “Look, there’s been...” Jim thought for a moment. He had to do some quick arithmetic. “Three at the party, Carson, the cop, twice with the bums, now here,” he muttered to himself then looked up at Carol. “Eight attempts on my life, so far. My luck can’t last much longer. I don’t want to take anyone else with me.”

  “We told you we were looking for a more interesting vacation.” Carol said. All three sat down at the table. “So here’s how we figured it out. I’ll be your wife, Chris your half brother, hence the difference in names and Celia his wife. Mr. Greenberg can fix our name change on the ships log.”

  Jim leaned back in his chair. “What are we playing, secret agent James Bum, zero, zero, three and a half?”

  “James who?” Chris asked with the same puzzled look Jim knew well.

  “Where are you going, and what do you plan to do there?” Celia asked, her voice bursting with excitement.

  “Going to Gato on La Raza to see someone. It’s better you don’t know who right now.”

  Chris laughed. “Mystery on mystery. This gets better all the time.”

  “I’ll tell you when we get there. That is, if I haven’t talked you out of it first.”

  “No chance,” Carol said with a smile.

  “Jump in half an hour,” Chris said, rising to his feet. “Want to watch it from your private observation deck?”

  “Private what?”

  “Observation deck. Through this door.”

  He walked to one of the five doors in the main living area of the suite. It opened. Beyond were the stars.

  “Thought that was a broom closet or something.” Jim stood and edged over to the door. He took a deep breath and peeked out then smiled. “Thought that my experience outside might have put me off this spectacle. It hasn’t.” He walked straight through and sat in one of the six armchairs in the transparent bubble that was the private observation deck. “Valet service, beer please.”

  “Yes sir, an autoserve has been dispatched.”

  The four sat and watched the Jump. Chris, for all his time on liners, had never done this before. His restriction to the crew’s quarters prevented him indulging in what was a paying passenger’s privilege. In the Home Guard, a military ship closed all view ports before making a Jump, so this would be his first time actually witnessing the event.

  The Jump itself was disappointing to the girls. Minor vibration in the ship’s hull, a tingling feeling followed by mild disorientation, then the star patterns changed.

  Before the Jump, their side of the ship was facing the center of the galaxy with clouds of stars lighting up the deck. After, they were looking outward. The clouds thinned to a sprinkling.

  The planet La Raza appeared as a diminutive speck almost lost amongst the scattered stars. The deck’s information guide pointed it out. When asked, the guide could demonstrate the location of any object in view. A red arrow appeared on the transparent dome. The planet was in front of the liner. They were located on the right of the ship where the hull sloped toward the bow. La Raza appeared at an angle to their left. Its sun Archenar was not visible. It was currently on the other side of the liner.

  Jim asked for the location of Sol, Earth’s sun. An arrow appeared directly above them. Jim leaned his armchair back and lay there watching. The relaxed atmosphere of a private deck promoted a sort of contented silence and meditation.

  “Chris, how much of the galaxy has been explored?” Jim asked, still watching Sol. He had left the arrow on. One blink and it would be lost amongst the other stars.

  “One thousandth of one percent at the most.”

  “That’s where I think I’ll go, exploring. You think I can get on one of those colony expeditions I’ve heard of?”

  Chris laughed. “With the money you’re making, you could organize one. Stake a claim to your own planet and become the ruler. King Jim the fi
rst.”

  “Hmmmm. The planet Young, sounds nice.” Jim’s eyes went back to Sol again. “How many planets have they found with a breathable atmosphere?”

  “None,” Carol said.

  “None?” Jim said in surprise. “No alien civilizations as well?” Jim was amused by the fact that since arriving he hadn’t had the time to ask about the possibility on nonhuman contact.

  “No,” Chris answered. “And the aliens keep their distance.”

  “Huh?”

  “Long story,” Chris explained. “In the early days of the colonies, sightings of so called U.F.O.s were quite frequent. Since we’ve developed the technology to better catch up with them they seem to have gone into hiding.”

  Jim was a little disappointed. “Uh huh. I’ve been wanting to know about that and other things as well. Every time I open my mouth to ask about things, someone asks me a question instead. Getting back to planets, how do they make them habitable?”

  “Celia,” Carol said. “Would you explain? My high school geobiology is rusty.”

  Celia leaned her chair back and watched the stars while talking. “It’s done with bacteria. First a planet is found with an atmosphere containing methane, carbon dioxide and water vapor, and then they introduce strains of anaerobic bacteria. The bacteria are specially engineered to be extremely fast reproducing. It feeds off of the organic gasses and carbon dioxide producing oxygen. That takes only about ten years. When most of the atmosphere is converted, the anaerobics die off and become sludge on the surface. Without the carbon dioxide, the atmosphere cools and oceans form washing the sludge off the land. The next step is to de-acidify the oceans...”

  “Let me guess,” Jim interrupted, “more bacteria?”

  “That’s right. The one big problem is finding enough sodium to convert the hydrochloric acid to common salt. The sulfuric acid is converted to sulfates by another bacterium. Then plant life is introduced and things are almost automatic from there, except for the weather modification.”

  “I take it that the bottoms of all oceans are still covered in that sludge?”

  “It’s somewhat covered with sand and dirt. For the first hundred years after the atmosphere is established, the planet suffers from almost continuous storms. Billions of tons are washed into the ocean. Anyway we need the sludge. That’s where we get all our plastics and organic material for industry.”