It was a relief to say it out loud after all these weeks. He nodded enthusiastically at me and I kept going, kept pacing the room. It was clear now, getting more clear as I talked it out. Even the pacing seemed helpful. The wild gesticulations were helping a whole lot too.
It’s all circles.
We orbit around the outpost in a circle, their stations circle the anomaly and the anomaly itself is just a strange sphere (which is like a circle with a promotion) that emits bands of strange energy that ripple out in concentric circles. Then there’s my writing. It’s all that one looped event, over and over and over for four hundred thousand words now. And in it is some strange, crude trapped man living in a loop caused by the chromoton desynchronizer (which traps time in itself in a loop!). And in my dreams I watch another (or maybe the same), loudly dressed and brash man step into a circle of energy carrying a bomb. I’m trapped in circles and loops and (to a lesser extent) ellipses.
The ship’s councillor hadn’t seemed to understand this breakthrough at first. No matter how loud I got when I explained it to him or how violently I yelled the word ‘circles’ when they came up (and I can assure you they came up often and I was exceptionally forceful in my yelling). I showed him some of the pages that I had written as proof, but he had seemed more alarmed than impressed with my four hundred pages I arranged on the floor and he still couldn’t help me with the CIRCLES. I showed him the drawings of circles and my graphs of what the timelines looked like. It was an awful lot of presentation and it could be a little perplexing, but I had been very careful to note that, though it looked insane, I was not. I said that very confidently and loudly several times to him. It was important to establish.
Of course when he had advised that I should go to the sickbay, I had bristled. Who wouldn’t? I had explained how I wasn’t crazy several times now, each time more impassioned than the last. When he had gone to call for the doctor I had stopped him and explained myself again. When he had gone to move past me I had to take action, of course. He really wasn’t getting it.
Now that he was tied up on his couch, he was far, far more receptive to my theories about the circles and the split in reality. It was such a relief that he had finally started listening and his feedback of enthusiastic nodding was all I needed. I just wished he would stop struggling against the ropes I had had to fashion from his trousers.
Trousers
“Trousers trousers trousers” I said. There was an echo in that word. Another bleed through. I said it several more times at different tones and pitches, trying to run the idea down. The councillor looked at me, while I said trousers and nodded encouragingly at me. Good, I was glad he was coming round.
“Trousers. Holes in trousers. Pants pants pants and trousers. Holes. Mmmmmmm.” I mused out loud. Maybe if I could circle closer to the anomaly I could learn why I was thinking about trousers and pants and gold. Gold? Gold. Good. More associated words were coming through. I was chasing it down, alright. This therapy was working wonders. And the amount I had pushed us close to the anomaly was important too. Got to get closer.
But even if the councillor was beginning to see sense that didn’t mean that the rest of my crew were as receptive to my reasonable ideas. Many of them had expressed polite concern over my continual tightening of our orbit. It was polite concern that had turned into a general worry which had, in turn become the murmured possibility of writing an informal memo to me expressing hesitant dissent. Some of the crew had asked if I was feeling well twice in one day and others had been bringing me cups of tea unbidden. I knew I was dancing on the razor’s edge that was a full blown- though very sensitively handled- mutiny. It was my own fault for instilling such a stringent respect for rules into the crew.
Despite this respect, most of them seemed concerned by our lack of communication with the monitoring outposts, who were, I suppose, understandably concerned that we were 1) no longer accepting communication from them, 2) no longer communicating with them and 3) Now orbiting the anomaly closer than any of their stations. To that last point, we were roughly 100 hectares away from the surface of it now, and as for points one and two, I simply knew that these scientists would not appreciate the fact that our proximity was giving clarity to my dreams, increasing my headaches and accelerating my creative writing.
But one thing was still bothering me.
What was the point?
I stopped pacing in a circle around the councillor. I even stopped saying ‘trousers’ and ‘pants’, which he seemed alarmed at.
What was the point? What was I going to do about all this? My staff were maybe three informal meetings away from asking me politely but firmly if I wouldn’t mind entertaining the possibility of taking a brief, paid break. Unacceptable. If I was going to do something I would have to do it soon.
I was still in control of the ship but I know that that is a tenuous position, especially if someone finds that I’ve started tying up my staff, so that I can explain my dreams to them. I can’t tie them all up. Or can I? I mused on this as I looked down at the councillor.
No. No, I decided I couldn’t.
But whatever it was that I was going to do, it has to be soon. The circles are getting tighter around me. This may be my last entry. If it is, remember me, as a….Actually just remember me.
Chapter Seven
Damn, where is the bloody thing?
Please excuse the poor formatting of this, this...probably last entry into my journal. I’m dictating as I go this time, no time for editing. I’m afraid so I’m putting my faith in the ship’s autocorrect facilititties. You see, I have to take care of something rather urgent and any moment now I think my crew are going to make their way through the Bridge door and ask me to desist. Can you hear that? Can the mic pick that up?
[sounds of distant thudding and knocking]
That’s them. Well, that’s you, I’ll guess. After all, who else will recover this and listen to this log but you? I hope that through study of this you can understand or piece together what I’m trying to do. It must be hard for you right now to understand my actions, after all, I’ve been your stalwart captain for years now and I’ve guided us away from over two hundred high stakes battles.
Now, yes, I know that my behaviour has been...erratic of late. And yes, I know that one of you found our good ship’s councillor tied up in his room with his own trousers and I regret that that was necessary. I know too that you have by now found the subsequent six other crewmembers that I had to subdue in the same manner. It was necessary. Jeffers walked in on me as I was exiting the councillor’s offices and had to be restrained and hidden away in a nearby mop closet, while I was doing that , Qu-tek happened upon me and I had to subdue her too in the same style (which I was getting better at- ask her). That was when Terrca stumbled upon us and...well, I think you can see where this is going. It’s been a long afternoon and I regret that I have had to wrestle and de-trouser more of my staff than I would like. We all went to that sexual harassment seminar where I specifically vowed against this kind of behaviour but needs must. Now-
[Sounds of bleeps and blorps and systems powering up]
Now I’m trying to find out where the bloody weapons console is. It’s been so long since we used it. On the other ship we were using it all the ti- ha. There I go again. The other ship. In that other reality. It’s odd. When I just let myself talk or dream or write I can glimpse it, but when I focus on it, I can never see it. It’s like those specks that float in one’s eye- always glimpsed but never really seen.
But I’ve made a decision.
I’m going to open fire on the anomaly.
Now I know that as soon as I power up these weapons, the monitoring stations will register that. They love to monitor stuff, after all. Not just them but also the two COAR battlecruisers that showed up yesterday, which you’re all so concerned about. The ones that have been pestering us about our ‘erratic behaviour’ and our ‘dangerous intercept trajectory with the unknown temporal object’ and our ‘dangerousl
y unhinged captain’. So I’m going to have a short window of Tempus to get the weapons online and do what I intend to before they open fire on us. What I need to do might not make any sense to you now, but hopefully, once I get this shot off, everything will start to make sense. Either the world inside my head will go, or ours will. Or both.
There’s a man trapped inside that anomaly. He’s floating in Space, all alone, and has been for thousands, maybe millions of years. That’s pretty hardcore. He’s trapped in a moment. He’s reaching out for one bright spot in front of him but he never gets there. And I can see them-both of them, in that same unfocused way if I just cross my eyes.
[Sound of console powering up]
There we are. There it is.
I hope it manages to actually shoot alright. I never was much of a shot but- oh god- judging by the change in the vectors of those cruisers, it looks like I’m going to have to learn quickly.
Alright, alright. Sit down, Ebenezer, old man. Calm down, take a breath.
[Deep breathing noises]
[Typing noises]
[Banging at doors/indistinct shouting]
One shot. Into the anomaly. Don’t think it, feel it. There’s a point of light in there. Bertha, he calls it. Stupid name. Been reaching out for that for a billion years. Let’s give him a little help.
[Alarm klaxon]
This is bringing it back. This is familiar.
Alright, Captain. Let’s give it a shot.
[Alarm klaxon]
Not how I expected to end my career; opening fire on the site of the Big B-
[Sound of impact]
Well, that’s about right. The only thing for them to do, really- open fire. Shields up.
[Sounds of impact/sounds of explosion]
I wonder if this will work. Oh, hell, I don’t even know what that would mean. Listen, if anyone ever finds our...well, our black box, I suppose, please try to understand me. Try to understand what I did. Don’t remember me as some renegade captain that went down with a case of the space crazies. I’m not.
[Sound of impact]
No, remember me as...Oh hell, Remember me as-
[Explosion]
[RECORDING ENDS]
ere was nothing to do it seemed, but reach my hand out and touch Bertha. She was all there was. The tiny sphere. But I was reluctant, I stalled. Robbed of my CALAPAW I hesitated to even reach out. What had been my last words even? Just ‘remember me’, aimed at Funkworthy. Weak. Weak and sentimental. I reach ou
Where now?
Seems I’m floating. At least this new place was free of showers and arses. So far. But what it lacked in wet prisoner posterior it made up for in nothingness. It had so much nothing it was almost something. It’s hard to describe an absence of everything, even to someone with the linguisticalistic prowess as meself. Even time had buggered off. I could feel its absence. After today it was almost a relief. The absence of matter was a little less welcome. Like the prof had promised I was outside of it all, outside of time, outside of the universe. Just me and the one glowing spot of light. We are all that there is me and Bertha(which is what I’ve decided to call this little light). That and the bomb casing. The chromoton desynchronizer seems to have gone off but I feel nothing. Seconds- as if seconds even existed here- had gone by since it let out its terminal beep and emitted that large concussive bubble. Maybe it was a decoy after all, a final trick from Tempus. There was nothing to do it seemed, but reach my hand out and touch Bertha. She was all there was. The tiny sphere. But I was reluctant, I stalled. Robbed of my CALAPAW I hesitated to even reach out. What had been my last words even? Just ‘remember me’, aimed at Funkworthy. Weak. Weak and sentimental. I reach ou
Where now?
Seems I’m floating. At least this new place was free of showers and arses. So far. But what it lacked in wet prisoner posterior it made up for in nothingness. It had so much nothing it was almost something. It’s hard to describe an absence of everything, even to someone with the linguisticalistic prowess as meself. Even time had buggered off. I could feel its absence. After today it was almost a relief. The absence of matter was a little less welcome. Like the prof had promised I was outside of it all, outside of time, outside of the universe. Just me and the one glowing spot of light. We are all that there is me and Bertha (which is what I’ve decided to call this little light). That and the bomb casing. The chromoton desynchronizer seems to have gone off but I feel nothing. Seconds- as if seconds even existed here- had gone by since it let out its terminal beep and emitted that large concussive bubble. Maybe it was a decoy after all, a final trick from Tempus. Like that far off light in the sky- the piercing javelin of light spearing towards me. What’s that then? Looks like a huge laser bolt. One last trick to finish me off here? Fat chance I'll wait around for that. There was nothing to do it seemed, but reach my hand out and touch Bertha.That little spark. The tiny sphere. If I was going to grab a hold of Bertha I'd better get a move on, before that light reaches us. I spare a thought for Funkworthy, who I left behind. No time for that. I reach ou
Where now?
Seems I’m floating. At least this new place was free of showers and arses. So far. But what it lacked in wet prisoner posterior it made up for in nothingness. It had so much nothing it was almost something. It’s hard to describe an absence of everything, even to someone with the linguisticalistic prowess as meself. Even time had buggered off. I could feel its absence. After today it was almost a relief. The absence of matter was a little less welcome. Like the prof had promised I was outside of it all, outside of time, outside of the universe. Just the two of us. We are all that there is me and Bertha(which is what I’ve decided to call this little light). That and the bomb casing made three. Oh and there was that other interloper- the glowing green spear of energy that was hanging in mid air (if there was air (and if there was ‘mid’)). It sat there in the not-air, glowing threateningly and making some very untoward advances on poor old Bertha who, alone in the nothingness was now dealing with two suitors (I was discounting the bomb casing from the running). Seconds- as if seconds even existed here- had gone by since the bomb had gone off. Maybe it was a decoy after all, a final trick from Tempus. Maybe this was one final game. Me and two big glowy energy things. Hell of a thing to finish a chap off with. I’d take a blade or a blaster or a beating . But I suppose there was a lesson here somewhere. Carpe diem- sieze the carp. And with no sealife around I guess I’d have to seize the nearest thing. Bertha. I wish Ebenezer were here, for a little council. I could always rely on him to be a good sounding board for my ideas. No time for that now. I reach ou
Where now?
Seems I’m floating. At least this new place was free of showers and arses. What it did have was-well, how to describe it? Before me was a wall of brilliant green light huge and sizzling with energy. I crane my neck upwards and see the top of the thing. After a few seconds (if seconds even existed here, since it seemed like time itself had buggered off) I took in the whole of the thing. It was a laser beam, as big as a bus and moving almost as slowly. I’d fired enough of these things to know them by the look but it was unusual to see one this close. Was someone firing at me? Had Tempus banished me beyond time and space so he could take pot shots? I wouldn’t put it past him, but he’s missed me this time. All he’d managed to hit was- well, what was that? It was easy to miss in the blinding brilliance of the laser beam but a small ball of light sat in front of me, just floating in mid-air (if there was air (and if there was ‘mid’)). It spun lazily in not-air pulsing threateningly. The sizzling energy of the passing laser beam had punctured the side of this little ball thing -I think I’ll call it Bertha- with its proximity. And now its surface had a small rupture. Golden light and warmth spilled out of it. Curious. If Ebenezer were here I’ll bet he’d have a theory on what it was, but I sure as hell didn’t. I’m more of a man of action, so I decided to take some. I reached ou
Where n-
Oh hell, that bloody thing’s going to explode!
No time for ‘where’s, ‘why’s or even ‘whence’s . I cast aside all questioning thoughts and even the urge to take in my surroundings (which was handy because there were none). I’ve been in front of exploding things before - six hundred and fourty two times, to be exact-and I was bloody sure in front of an exploding thing now. A point of light, sure, some spheroid structure, maybe. But an exploding thing? Indubitably. And I do not use that word lightly. The ball of energy before me bulged and pulsed, leaking some queer energy out of a split or rupture in its side. It leaked some kind of energy out of it and bulged like and over-fed mule, readying to spew out its contents all over everything.
I looked around.
I was everything.
Damn.
At least I proved my last therapist wrong- I really am the only person in the universe.
Was this the chromoton dingaly-dong thingy? Maybe. Maybe not. The bomb casing was floating near me but that proved nothing, I guess. Somewhere in the distance was a speck of green energy, receding into the distance like a guilty bus. But that was hardly the best clue.
I thought of Funkworthy then. He was always good to bounce ideas- oh, hell. He was always the source of ideas. I had no bloody clue what the thing was. No time to wonder what he’d say.
I reached out.
And my fingers brushed the sides of the sphere. It rolled lazily towards me and swelled in my grip, as so many things do. Not knowing what to do I gripped onto it and brought it closer to my muscular chest.
The energy spilled ever outward and seemed to run through the fabric of my own hand penetrating it and dissolving it, like a firehose turned on a massive stock cube. I felt as if the atoms in my own hand were being disintegrated by its brilliant yellow energy, like the beam of light were disintegrating whatever touched it. It bulged in my arms and seemed to tear in two.
The Time Trousers of Professor Tempus: A Captain Space Hardcore Adventure Page 35