The Time Stone (The Time Stone Trilogy Book 1)

by Robert F Hays

  Montoya leaned back in his chair. “I do not think that the introduction of this drink will destroy the moral fiber of our civilization. Mr. Huber, you should save the advertising propaganda rhetoric for the public. We both know better.”

  “But,...” Huber seemed flustered for a moment. “...do you know what one of the strange, obscure flavorings they need for their concoction is?”

  “We called it neroli,” Jim announced out loud. “It comes from the bitter orange tree.”

  “I believe on Earth they called it neroli,” Montoya said in a matter of fact fashion. He was obviously extremely experienced at the private conference system. “We still have it. It comes from the bitter orange tree. You’re not the only one that listens in on private conversations.”

  Jim smiled as he noted the irony of the last statement.

  “Yes, ah...” Huber said, surprised by Montoya’s knowledge. “...a local pudding flavoring on Stanos.”

  The voice of Montoya’s private secretary broke in. “Agent on Stanos dispatched to purchase agricultural packs for the bitter orange tree.”

  Then another voice that Jim didn’t recognize. “Our farms on Murbank have been notified to prepare for a change in production.”

  Jim turned to Raul and whispered, “Pudding?” Raul nodded.

  Montoya leaned back assuming a more casual position. “Sooner or later someone would have thought of applying it to a beverage. Why have you come to me for financing? Are your usual sources unavailable?”

  “Just a second,” Jim whispered as a thought came to mind. “They make marmalade from bitter orange.”

  “What’s marmalade?” Raul replied.

  “This Old Earth business caught our usual sources by surprise,” Huber said. “Other areas seem to have priority for the time being.”

  Jim leaned toward Raul. “Tell your people to double up, no, triple up on the bitter orange. I like marmalade.”

  Montoya smiled. “All I can suggest Mr. Huber is that you approach this Young Coca Cola Company and offer a deal. Make their product under license.”

  Huber thumped the arm of his chair with a clenched fist. “Plead with that primitive Old Earth barbarian, no, never.”

  “Barbarian!” Jim said out loud. “I’ll punch his lights out!”

  Carol clamped a hand over her mouth trying to muffle her uncontrolled laughter. Jim also noticed a slight flicker of a smile on Montoya’s face. He was obviously enjoying the situation. Carol leaned toward Jim and put her arm around his neck. While stroking his cheek she whispered in his ear. “I kind of like primitive men.”

  Jim said nothing, he just sat there fuming.

  “In that case Mr. Huber I’m afraid I can not help you.” Montoya stood signaling the end of the discussion.

  “Conference off, screen off,” Raul commanded then turned to Jim. “Well, as you can see he’s not the most congenial of men. He treats his employees like dirt. There’ll be celebrating when you make him a pauper. Shall we get back to the current problem, confusing the enemy? We can get you to Hebram, it’s one of the outer planets, newly colonized. We thought it would appear to them as logical that you’d like to go there. It is... ah... a little more ah....”

  “Primitive?” Jim interrupted in a gruff tone. “Well, I just might go there and stay for a while. Raise an army of my fellow barbarians, then come back and punch everybody’s lights out.”

  Raul and Carol sat laughing while Jim continued to smolder. This was the first time he’d heard anyone make a derogatory comment about his origins.

  Raul’s face tensed. “Back to the itinerary. On Hebram we can arrange for you to be accidentally caught on a retinal scanner while purchasing farm equipment. There we have to make them believe Jim Young died. We’ll fake your death.”

  Jim nodded. “If they think I died they’d stop looking for me. I take it that means I’m to pose as a farmer?”

  “Yes, you can claim some of the free land available under one of those colorful names you’ve been using.... Oh, by the way, the police have already picked up on your latest as fraudulent. It’s illegal to book a hotel room under an assumed name, so please leave the incognito arrangements on this planet to the experts. Hebram is a different matter; you could get away with a phony name there for years.”

  “Ah... If I was a frontiersman I always thought that I’d be a rancher not a farmer. Riding the range appeals to me more than digging in the dirt. Could that be arranged?”

  “Rancher?” Raul said.

  “Yep, raising beef cattle.”

  “No, that’d entail having to hire psy-techs for the tanks. Too many people involved.”

  “Tanks? What tanks? Don’t current ranchers keep their beef wandering around the range?”

  “Oh, that’s right. Back in your time they actually slaughtered the animals to get the meat so you needed thousands of them.”

  “Yeuck,” Carol exclaimed. “Beef producers actually killed the poor things?”

  “What else? What do they do now, chop bits off while they’re still alive?” Jim had a sudden flash mental image of legless steers being pushed around in wheelchairs.

  “No, just tissue samples, the beef is grown from a few cells in large fluid filled tanks. Enzymes in the fluid govern the part of the body that’s duplicated.”

  “They don’t slaughter them?” Jim said.

  “The animal lives a long happy life and usually dies of old age.”

  “Just a moment, beef is muscle, am I correct?” Jim said.

  “Yes.”

  “Muscle takes exercise so it’ll grow, right?”

  “The muscle does get exercise. They electrically stimulate the growing nerve endings.”

  “I’ve seen it on 3V,” Carol said. “The meat sort of quivers in the tank.”

  “Ok, so it looks like I’m going to be a farmer. What’s next?” Jim asked with resignation.

  “From there to New Austria, where your electronics company is located, then under your new identity you can go on vacation, first to a beach resort on Brougham’s Folly then back here where you can have your nervous breakdown and turn religious.”

  “Basically simple, eh?” Jim said, breaking out of his bad mood and starting to smile again. “Couldn’t I just stay here and you fake my death on this planet? Save a long trip.”

  “Better to fake your death on Hebram. It’s a frontier planet. Having a more pri... ah... less sophisticated social and governmental system it would be easier there.”

  “And the round about trip back?”

  “It’s just to properly establish your new identity. For New Austrians it’s a common route for a vacation. Beach resort first, while you still have money, then to Gato to lose it all at the casinos.”

  “But between here and New Austria, how many people will have to know who I am, and can you trust them?”

  “Two and yes, both of them are cousins.”

  “I understand, but I wanted to get this over and done with.”

  “Jim,” Carol said. “You need a break before you do this infiltration thing. The beaches on Brougham’s Folly are quite nice.”

  “Are you coming with me?”

  “Yes, I just have to call work and extend my vacation....”

  “Quit,” Jim said. “You’re working for me now, with a pay raise. So are Chris and Celia.”

  Jim turned back to Raul and continued with the details of the plan. Carol remained silent. An occasional glance in her direction puzzled Jim. She had a slight look of disappointment on her face.

  “So, I guess I’ll be roving the wilds of this primitive planet in comfort while robotics do all the work.”

  “Not exactly,” Raul said with a suppressed smirk.

  “Huh? Ok., tell me the facts. You weren’t joking when you called it primitive.”

  “It has been quite some time since we had a new planet to colonize. One hundred and thirty four years to be exact. It seems that we have... sort of... forgotten how. The technology that promotes comfort, in s
uch a situation, has to be reinvented.”

  “But things can be invented, designed, made and on the market within a week. Aren’t they doing that?”

  “No. We have become rather complacent over the last few centuries with regard to long term projects. The corporate sector concentrates more on the immediate. A planetary colony takes years before in makes a profit. My family is one of the few commercial entities interested in such things.”

  “Same thing back on Earth. Why you and not the others?”

  “We are a family business. We plan ahead for our children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Most of the rest are corporations that cater to immediate, private wealth.”

  “Is that why my companies are doing so well? The public interest in the products are here and now?”

  Raul smiled and nodded. “That’s also why we were quite pleased when you arrived. You appear to be family oriented and we hoped you would re-invest your instant capital in the future. That, in years to come, will advantage both your family and ours.”

  “How do you know that’s what I’ll do?”

  Raul again smiled, but remained silent.

  Jim shut his eyes and leaned back in his seat as he envisaged the vast multitude of psychologists, technicians and sundry experts that must have analyzed every word and physical reaction he made in front of the media. It bothered him to know that they possibly knew more about him than he did. It also bothered him that the opposition he now faced would also possess the same information. If he acted logically, within his own idiom, could they predict his actions? If he went illogical, could they predict that as well and similarly track him down?

  “Why a new planet now?” Jim asked, trying to change the subject as well as sidetrack his own mental confusion.

  “Overcrowding,” Raul replied. “Fifty years ago the average lower class working family lived in a house on twenty acres of land. The average is now about ten. By the turn of the century it will be down to about five. We have to find an outlet somewhere or suffer a social upheaval of some sort.”

  “And the big company executives don’t know this?”

  “They do. That’s why they’re grabbing what they can, when they can, in their own selfish preparation for the future.”

  “So, ten acres is close to poverty level, huh? I was overwhelmed when I moved into a house on half an acre... By the way, thanks for using that term instead of hectare. That’s about the only metric term that still confuses me.”

  “I have done a lot of reading so I could explain things to you. It’s extremely important that you understand. Shall we get back to the strategy?”

  Once the planning was concluded they retired for the night in preparation for departure next morning. Jim was to be placed aboard a Montoya owned automated freighter bound for Hebram in the morning. The others were to take a different route and meet with him on New Austria.

  * * *

  At 2 a.m. Jim was awakened by a rather confusing dream. He couldn’t remember the details, but he knew there was something he had overlooked.

  “Computer, is Raul Montoya awake?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “Bed up..... stop. Message to Raul, what about my kids? I don’t want them to think I’ve died.”

  “They’ll not hear about it.” Raul’s voice was unusually alert for this hour of the morning. “The government will keep it quiet. It may cause a crash in the stock market. By the way, what does a raspberry taste like?”

  Jim sat thinking for a moment. “It tastes like… uh… it tastes like… a raspberry. Why do you want to know?”

  Raul laughed. “They’re releasing agro packs. They have taken the DNA from one of your containers of preserved food.”

  “Did raspberries go extinct?

  “Yes, we only know them by name. Go to sleep, you have to be ready for tomorrow. I have more planning to do tonight.”

  “Ok. Computer, end conversation.”

  “You have a message from Chris,” the computer said.

  “Deliver the message.”

  “Well boss,” said the recorded voice of Chris. “The girls have been talking.”

  “Oh shit,” Jim said.

  The message continued. “Call me as soon as you wake up, at any time.” The message ended.

  “Computer, direct voice to Chris. Chris, what’s up?” Jim paused for a moment and listened to the silence. “Chris?”

  “Huh?” Was the sleepy reply

  “Chris?”

  “Huh? What?”

  “What’s up?”

  “Up where?”

  “What are the girls talking about?”

  “Oh, um.... Carol likes you.”

  “So, I like her too.”

  “No, no, she REALLY likes you,”

  “Oh.... ah.... what? Is there a problem? Have I done something wrong?” Jim asked, searching his mind for something he may have said or done to upset her.

  “Yes,” this time it was the voice of Celia. “She doesn’t want to be your employee. She wants to be a friend and, sort of, go from there.”

  “I see...”

  Jim looked up at the approximate place on the wall from which the voices were coming. “Celia? How did you get on this line?”

  Both Chris and Celia laughed.

  “Figure it out,” Celia said. “I’m not talking from my own bedroom.”

  “Oh...” Jim said. “See you in the morning. Computer, end link.”

  Jim sat in the darkness for a moment pondering the logic of the female mind. “Computer, message to Carol as soon as she wakes up. Carol, you’re fired. End message. Bed down.... stop.” He then rolled over and went back to sleep.

  Chapter 15

  Colin sat watching the sun set behind the low hills in the distance. The planet Ploshchard’s sun, Canopus, gave everything an orangy hue. Sunset seemed to be the most stimulating event in the daily life of a market gardener. The Kirby family were very nice, but seemed to revel in the simple art of doing nothing. The family disliked the bustle of the city. John Kirby and Dr. Iris Kirby gave up their jobs as a civil engineer and dermatologist twelve years before and moved to a farm.

  The 3V room was infrequently used, except for school classes. They lived too far from the nearest center for the Kirby’s eight year old daughter, Mara, to attend. For seven months out of the year education was handled through V school. A further two months at a boarding school gave her the year’s only classroom experience.

  Colin and Michael resumed their education by sitting in on Mara’s classes. If they wanted to ask a question they whispered it to Mara. She either whispered back an answer, if she knew, or asked the teacher through the voice only link.

  “Here you are,” Iris said. She trailed an autoserve carrying five plates of food. “Eating on the porch will be a fun change from the dining room.”

  “Whoopee shit,” Colin whispered so that only Michael could hear.

  Iris handed Michael a plate. “Did you eat outside a lot back on Earth?”

  “No,” Michael answered.

  “We did have barbeques,” Colin said. “We cooked outside over an open fire.”

  Michael wasn’t shy; he just didn’t like to talk much. Colin on the other hand loved to talk. He usually covered for his brother by answering the questions for him.

  “That sounds like fun,” Iris said. “We should do that one evening. You two can show us how.”

  Colin leaned over to whisper in Michael’s ear. “If we do, don’t let them near it. They’d probably set themselves on fire.”

  As much as the boys disliked the monotony of farm life, the family setting put them at ease. Michael’s nocturnal crying was less frequent, but Colin still retained his aggressiveness. Any mention of their life on Earth sent him into a highly defensive posture.

  Colin sat on the edge of the porch dangling his feet. A brightly colored plastic plate rested on his knee. “Mr. Kirby, why is everything sort of orange colored here? On Batalavia the sun made everything look slightly blu
e.”

  John Kirby put down his fork and looked at the sky. “It’s the atmosphere on this planet. We’re further from our sun so the air has gasses that absorb more heat.”

  Colin looked up in surprise. “Isn’t that what might have croaked Earth, things got too hot?”

  “Yes, but here it’s controlled. The amounts of each gas are regulated. If we didn’t heat this planet we’d be up to our ears in frost and snow.”

  Colin watched a small yellowy cloud slowly moving eastward. “What, you got big machines like I saw on an old video about Mars?”

  John laughed. “No, the planet’s surface is one big machine. We regulate the plants, animals and micro organisms that either produce or break down the gasses.”

  The evening meal continued with John questioning the boys on everything they knew about the newly available raspberry. Agricultural packs were soon to be available through the Young Agronomy Company.

  “It’s a big bush with spikes,” said Colin who had never seen raspberries growing in his life. “You have to watch out when you walk past one, it catches on your clothes and won’t let go.”

  “It grabs you?” John asked.

  “To get away you have to cut off the spikes.”

  “Yep,” Michael said, making one of his rare comments. “One of them ate our cat.”

  “Ate your cat?” Iris exclaimed with a look of shock.

  “Yep,” Colin said. “They like eating meat. If they can get hold of you long enough a vine grows out and wraps ‘round your neck and strangles you. Then it drags you in and slowly eats your body while you’re still alive.”

  “Oh,” Mara said. “Daddy we cannot have any of them growing here.”

  John laughed. “I think the boys are just having a little fun with us.”

  “No,” Colin said, carefully watching Mara for her reaction, “some of them can pull their roots out of the ground and walk around. They attacked Harker Heights, just down the road from Killeen where we used to live. The army had to blast them with one one fives and flame throwers. Dad was there, he said that one of them got into a tank and grabbed the crew. When the medics got to it there was nothing left except guts all over the place.”