The Time Stone (The Time Stone Trilogy Book 1)

by Robert F Hays

  “They’re movies,” Jim snapped. “If they filmed a normal person’s everyday life it’d be dull.”

  Carol reached out and pinched Jim’s newly shaved cheek. “Don’t get so defensive. Our 3V shows are the same. You know, laser pistol fights in holds of space liners, inept farmers that blow themselves up, things that don’t happen to normal people.”

  “Ok...”

  “Watch it, don’t say that.”

  “I’ve heard others here say it. Old Earth expressions are becoming more common recently.”

  “Yes but when you say it, it sounds natural, as if you’ve used those expressions all your life. Others accentuate them to sound fashionable.”

  “O.... Ah.... I see. I have to concentrate more.”

  Jim settled back for a moment then raised his head again. “Speaking of Old Earth violence, I did get mugged once.”

  Carol slowly turned to look at him with a mock frown. “You what?” She said slowly.

  “Got mugged. In the parking lot outside a bar.”

  “I always suspected something like that about you,” she said, closing one eye. “I’ve seen you look Chris up and down when you think I’m not looking.”

  “Huh?”

  Carol burst out laughing. “I know what you mean, just don’t use that expression here.”

  “If it means something different now, how do you know what it means to me?”

  “A video I saw in the public 3V room of the liner on the way here. They have a panel of experts explain and discuss each one before it’s shown. The dissertation is almost as long as the video itself.”

  “So, someone got mugged in the video.”

  “Even though the audience knew, it still got a big laugh when it came out.”

  Jim sat up. “Well I didn’t like it then and by the sound of things I wouldn’t like it now either. I think I’ll go up and find out if there have been any cancellations on the ocean viewer bookings. I can’t wait another four days to try one of those things.”

  “Neither can I.”

  Jim stood and grabbed his shirt. “Be back in a few minutes.”

  “Don’t get mugged on the way, especially in a parking lot, it’s too public.”

  Jim stuck his tongue out at Carol then started walking up the beach.

  The trail to the hotel lobby was lined with tropical flowering plants. It was explained to Jim that a century ago three bio labs were competing for the contract to supply the plant life on this island. The lab that created the most beautiful and exotic species gained the contract. Plant varieties here could be found nowhere else in the galaxy. The government retained the patent on all and export was made illegal.

  The island itself was about the size of Jim’s home state of Missouri. One could stay a year and see only part of what was available. For now, the ocean viewer two seater submarine was Jim’s main interest.

  His next goal was to see the crystal forest, an unusual attraction in the central mountain range. Its origins were still subject to speculation and theory. Years before human colonization, great heat just above the surface transformed a sandstone region into columns of quartz crystals, amethyst, jasper, agate and rose quartz.

  Jim was relaxing. Thoughts of his mission and hazardous position were moving further to the rear of his mind.

  The attractive hotel lobby was extravagantly decorated with tropical plants and crystal sculptures. Jim went straight to the front desk where bookings were made for the various attractions.

  A woman in front of the counter was questioning the desk clerk about theater tickets. They both were reading one of the twelve information screens behind the attendant. The screens displayed multiple columns of times and dates for each attraction. The problem here was not finding something to do; it was how to fit everything you wanted into one vacation.

  Jim fell into line behind the woman and waited. A few moments later a tall blond man fell in behind him.

  “Have you seen any of the plays yet?” the man asked

  “No,” Jim said, turning around. “Just got here yesterday.”

  “With so many of them I was looking for someone to give me a recommendation. Guess I’ll just have to flip a disk or something.”

  “I’m having the same problem. But for the moment, my main quest is to get on one of those ocean viewers.”

  “Good choice,” the man said with marked enthusiasm. “We went on one yesterday.”

  “Say, do they just give you a conducted tour or can you control them?”

  “You control them. It’ll tell you when your time’s up and return to the dock automatically.”

  “That’s good I....”

  “Can I help you sir?” the desk clerk said.

  Jim turned to see the woman in front of him walking away with ticket disks in hand. “Yes, any cancellations on the ocean viewers? I have a reservation for Tuesday but want to go sooner if I can.”

  “One moment,” said the attendant and looked down at the in-built pad on his desk.

  Jim felt a hand on his left upper arm. It gave him halfway between a slap and a shove. He turned to see a very large, muscular man standing beside him.

  “Move,” came the blunt command.

  “Hey, I’m here making a reservation, you can wait.”

  The man pointed to the right. “You will stand over there.”

  “Like hell I will,” Jim said, glancing back at the attendant who was also looking at the man.

  “Will only be a couple of minutes sir,” the attendant snapped in the direction of the large man. “You can wait in line, or take a seat.”

  Jim looked around. The blond man was standing off to one side. “And this guy here was behind me, so you’re third. So damn well wait your turn.”

  “That’s right,” said the blond man while pushing his way back into position behind Jim.

  Jim looked back at the small entourage behind them. The muscular man had an equally built companion. Behind them was a third in a business suit followed by a middle aged couple. The couple were elegantly dressed and well groomed. The woman wore diamonds around her neck and wrists. They both stood glaring at him. Jim thought to himself ‘If looks could kill I’d be dead’. He smiled and nodded to the couple who instantly turned toward each other and started a quiet conversation.

  Behind the couple were two more men, similar to the ones in front. Jim summed up the group as four bodyguards, a private secretary and an extremely wealthy couple.

  “And I think I’ll be taking my time about it too,” the blond man whispered in Jim’s ear.

  The desk clerk looked up from his pad. “We may have a vacancy this afternoon. It’ll take about ten minutes to find out, would you like to wait?”

  “Sure would,” Jim said excitedly. “I’ll be over here.”

  Jim turned and walked toward a row of armchairs. An elderly gentleman, seated in one, watched his approach with a broad smile.

  “The end of an era, eh,” the man said with a mild German accent.

  “Huh?” Jim said, taking a seat next to him.

  “You do not know who that is?”

  Jim shook his head.

  “The Count Brissot, former governor of the French Federation province of Montpelier. He is probably here to rent one of the villas in the mountains. They can no longer book through the government like they used to. They have to come in person like everyone else. The law requires the renter’s voice print for every booking. This is probably the first time he has been made to stand in line and wait in his life.”

  “Well, he’d better get used to it.”

  The man laughed. “There were celebrations in the streets of every part of the Bund when we heard of the downfall of the great French families. You know we do not hate the French, just these brutes for what they did. They played that old video from the Young collection on our 3V, the one about the first American astronauts. The designers of their vehicles had German accents like mine, not French accents like these pigs have been telling us. That man Von Br
aun brought cheers from my family. We all had tears in our eyes.”

  “I’m not much on history or social science, electronics is my field. I’d like to know, are the people of the Bund still carrying a thousand year old grudge?”

  “Ah, specialization, the curse of modern civilization,” the man said. He reached up and grasped Jim’s shoulder. “Yes we do. These beasts would do it again if given the chance. They are brought up on legends of rule, conquest and power, while we were brought up on the stories of our ancestors running in fear while theirs sat in orbit, burning one city after another.”

  “I don’t blame you for being pissed off,” Jim said.

  “Being what?” the man said.

  “Uh… angry… uh… irate.”

  “My English is not good,” the man laughed. “I think I shall add to the insult by falling into line behind him.” The man stood. “It will further let him know that he is now only one of the masses he used to look down on.”

  The man walked toward the counter but was stopped by the raised arm of a bodyguard. “There are laws here against preventing a person from walking where he wants in a public place!” the man snapped. “I have business with the management.”

  The bodyguard turned for instructions. The Count nodded then looked down at the floor. The bodyguard immediately dropped his arm and the elderly man took a pace forward to stand in line behind the Count.

  Jim sat deep in thought; he didn’t know who to feel sorry for. The situation was new to him. He was confused over the role he had played in the current state of affairs.

  He didn’t notice the elderly man undo the front of his jacket and reach inside. The loud crack and brilliant white flash that followed took Jim completely by surprise. He just sat, with mouth open, and watched the Count’s smoking body fall.

  * * *

  Jim sat nervously in a chair in the hotel security office.

  “Mr. Dollison,” said Inspector Jenner of the Sanders Island police. “We’ve run your background through the police computers. It, and your story and profile, have been cross-matched with those of the situation and the assassin’s. You’ll be pleased to know that it gave us odds of ten thousand to one that you were in any way involved in the assassination. Thank you for your time and account of the incident, it was quite helpful. You’re free to go”

  Jim had told the police, in as much detail as possible, exactly what happened. They took a voice print. Jim was worried that they’d also take a retinal scan but that didn’t happen. The police seemed satisfied as to who he was and what he was doing there.

  “That man had a laser pistol,” Jim said. “Do many people here have access to them?”

  “No Mr. Dollison, that fact surprised us. There’ll be a thorough investigation. I can assure you that this was a rare incident. Go back to enjoying your vacation.”

  “I don’t know if I can,” Jim said, standing and walking toward the lobby door.

  Once outside, he walked toward the beach. Halfway down the path he met Chris coming the other way.

  “Frank,” Chris said out loud for the benefit of anyone within hearing range. “The girls went back to our rooms as soon as they heard of the assassination. Where have you been? We were worried.”

  “Where else?” Jim said. “Right in the middle of things.”

  They turned and walked toward the cluster of duplexes surrounded by gardens, paths and fountains that made up the hotel grounds.

  “You saw the assassination?”

  “Not only that, I had a friendly chat with the assassin just before he did it. He was from the Bund Federation, still mad at that war a thousand years ago.”

  “Bund Federation my fat ass. Government agent from this planet more likely. The Brissots are a political embarrassment. They don’t want them here. That assassin is going to be tried, sentenced, then executed in absentia as they slip him out the back way.”

  “You know more about current politics than I do.”

  “How the hell do you get yourself into these situations?”

  “Just lucky I guess.”

  Carol and Celia were waiting when they entered Jim’s apartment. Both looked up with concern.

  “Well,” Jim said. “I didn’t get a cancellation on an ocean viewer, but I did get mugged.”

  “You got what?” Chris said.

  * * *

  Each apartment was self-contained. Jim and Carol had a two bedroom. They slept one in each to give the appearance of a married couple with problems.

  Chris and Celia had a single bedroom. It was all they needed.

  The next day Jim spent most of his time in the 3V room watching reports of the assassination. The assassin was described as a mentally disturbed man undergoing treatment.

  The pistol was stolen minutes before from a police vehicle sitting just outside the lobby. The man’s access to a secured vehicle was explained by the fact that he was an electronic locksmith.

  The whole incident was slowly being designated a spur of the moment thing with no organized plot involved. Even so, the Bund government made an official apology to the government of Brougham’s Folly over the actions of one of its citizens.

  Each local official interviewed pointed a finger of blame at another. The pointing fingers seemed to form a large circle ending at the origin.

  To Jim, the neatly packaged facts and explanations seemed to give credence to Chris’ theory. He now believed that it was a government orchestrated affair. He was quoted as an eye witness, whose identity was undisclosed, his story conveniently rearranged to fit the police explanation.

  * * *

  The ocean viewer sat on a ramp waiting when Jim and Carol arrived at the beach. The pre-launch safety briefing had increased in length in the past two weeks. In fact, all safety regarding unfamiliar equipment was tightened since news of an idiot farmer on Hebram blowing himself up.

  The craft itself consisted of a large transparent bubble in front. Behind the bubble, a cube shaped metal case contained the power unit and motor as well as computer, controls and storage compartments. Skids were attached to the base for sitting on the sea floor, fins at the rear assisted in steering.

  One entered by a hatch on top of the cube then down a ladder to a small compartment. In the compartment, to the right, a small door opened to reveal a cramped but adequate toilet. To the left was storage space for personal effects. Forward, a hatch led to the bubble.

  Inside the bubble were two large reclining armchairs that could fold back into a bed. It was equipped for tours of up to a week, where people could sit it on the ocean floor and sleep the night. The interior of the bubble was a little under three meters in diameter. Enough room to stretch out in comfort.

  Outside, banks of lights, arms and specimen collection boxes were mounted on posts. A fish feeder was at the front that could release food on command, attracting whatever was close by. Oxygen was extracted from sea water by a chemical gill system so large tanks were unnecessary. The interior was also supplied with a full complement of food and drinks for the comfort of its passengers.

  “This is nice,” Jim said while crawling through the hatch into the bubble and taking the right seat. Carol followed and sat in the left one. Jim closed the hatch.

  One of the ramp attendants waved so Jim waved back and the craft started its slide toward the water. Next, Jim waved at Chris and Celia standing by the ramp near the water’s edge. Celia was hopping up and down as she waved back. They had an ocean viewer booked for the following morning.

  Both in the bubble took an involuntary deep breath as the water rose to cover them. It was murky close to shore with limited visibility. The action of wave on sand kept it that way.

  “Destination?” the craft’s computer asked.

  “Simpson’s Valley,” Carol said then turned to Jim. “That was where we decided wasn’t it?”

  Jim nodded as he peered through the translucent water. The craft floated from the ramp, rocked slightly then powered forward with a steady acceleration. The wat
er slowly cleared. A plain yellow and greenish colored fish, about half a meter long, swam by in front of them.

  “Quick, that identifier thing, they said it’s to your left,” Jim said excitedly.

  “Hold on, don’t wet yourself. We’ll see plenty of fish where we’re going.”

  She picked up a small box shaped device with a pistol grip at the base. On one side of the box was a type of lens, the other, a small screen. Jim took it and aimed the lens at the fish as it circled back and passed again. Once its image was on screen he announced. “Identify.”

  “Common Gump fish,” the computer replied. “Designed by the Quo Han laboratory in 1657. Purpose, carrion and bottom cleaner”

  Carol started laughing uncontrollably.

  “One word out of you woman and I’ll hit you with this thing,” Jim said, looking around for a more exotic species.

  “Don’t you want to ask the computer for details about the Common Gump Fish? It may have won some sort of award or something for design.”

  Jim looked down at the image still on the identifier. “I think I’ll have a drink instead. Computer, one Concordia Sunset. I wish Frank Dollison drank beer.”

  “We’ve already discussed that. Details are the things that can give you away. Go around waving that Bud-whatever and together with the inadvertent slips, someone could guess, possibly the wrong someone.”

  Jim heard a click behind him and turned to procure the glass from a recess in the wall.

  Carol requested a second one and turned to retrieve hers. “Computer,” she said, “how long until we can release food?”

  “We will be out of the no feeding zone in twelve minutes”

  The water was now crystal clear. Jim could see numerous fish at a distance but none close enough to identify. To the left, a school of smaller fish darted back and forth in unison. Above, the blue sky was rippled and swirled by the moving water. The bottom of a foil boat skimmed directly overhead. Jim looked down. The sand slowly gave way to a rocky bottom and dropped away. The ocean viewer curved down with the slope, staying about a meter above the rocks.