Timekeepers

by Dave Weaver

  A hand pulled him to his feet. Paolo wore an expression of bruised and bloodied triumph. “Well done, Jack! We don’t know what happened to Borg and we don’t particularly care. As long as he’s not coming back! Atticus told us something like this might go off, to be prepared. I don’t think even he expected you to take out Taros as well!”

  There wasn’t time for this. “He’s got Portia!” Jack shouted.

  “What?” The EG cupped a hand to his ear over the feverish shouts of celebration.

  “Michael’s got Portia! He’s taken her hostage, they’re in the lift.”

  Full comprehension wiped the smile off Paolo’s face. He grabbed Jack’s arm and pulled him across the room, pushing a path through his cheering colleagues. In the far corner of the floor there was a thin red circle. The young man pushed Jack into the middle of it then stepped in himself. He waved his wrist I-Dent at a photosensitive eye on the nearest wall. A section of floor dropped away alarmingly beneath their feet. Jack felt a breathless sensation as they plummeted.

  “We use this to transport the past exhibits down to the Museum in the basement,” Paolo shouted. “It’s not really meant to carry people.”

  There was a large jolt and Jack’s legs gave way as he sat down with a heavy bump. Paolo had braced himself for the sudden stop and once again pulled him to his feet.

  “Sorry, should have warned you.”

  “Where are we?” Jack asked, squinting out through the frosted tube surrounding them. A panel in its side slid open and he followed Paolo into a long low-lit room full of glass cases.

  “Like I said, in the Museum: what we call the ‘Guest’ room.”

  Paolo stepped onto a long stretch of moving walkway, dragging Jack with him as the metal strip squirmed into life beneath their feet. Under glass on either side Jack glimpsed a bewildering variety of objects. There were: swords, spears and guns of every shape and size; pottery; glassware; posed ceramic figures; wooden carvings; gold and silver ornaments studded with jewels; and other, much stranger, artefacts. On the other side a blur of dresses, cloaks, and jackets sped past. Tight britches and frilly-sleeved shirts, simple peasant’s smocks and tunics; everything was spotless.

  Paolo jumped off at the end and barged through double doors. Jack followed, trying to keep up with the powerful EG as he sprinted up a tight staircase. He almost tripped over his legs as the young man pulled him down behind some railings at the top of the stairs. Across the corridor a row of smashed-up glass-panelled doors led out to the main entrance hall. Jack remembered Lucas checking him at the security guard’s hut there just a week before, already a lifetime now.

  There was a large group of State Troopers in the middle of the hall arguing amongst themselves. Jack couldn’t hear details, but saw one talking into a ring phone whilst the rest pointed in various opposing directions to each other. There was much shouting and cursing, the rising panic in the brutish voices carrying clearly to the two figures crouched in the stairwell.

  The one with the phone waved a hand. “Shut up for the Gods’ sake! What, everybody…? What about Taros? Shit…!” He turned to his mates. “Those sodding EGs in the Control Room have killed General Taros. Everyone’s dead apart from Daniels and Gregory, they’re both coming down now.”

  “How the hell…?”

  “They had a load of knives. I don’t know; that weird kid helped them.”

  “Knives?” One of them shouted in a desperate voice. “What the hell’s going on up there? Where’s Borg?”

  “Borg’s disappeared…”

  A swishing noise came from the wall to Jack’s left as one of the lifts opened. Two Troopers’ bodies lay in a pool of blood. Both had deep gashes across their throats like second mouths. The group gingerly approached the smashed glass doors and stared through at the corpses, one of whose arms was preventing the lift doors shutting.

  They looked at each other for a long moment. “Sod that…” one stated. As if by silent agreement they began to back away. With one last nervous look over their shoulders, the group stepped through the hall’s busted entrance and disappeared out into the twilight. A minute later, the hum of a troopship’s anti-grav unit could be heard, rising in pitch then swiftly fading away.

  As it did so, the other lift opened and Michael stepped out, dragging a struggling Portia. He still had the gun, carrying it awkwardly as he pulled her wrist. He’d managed to push one of the smashed up main doors open when she spat in his face. He stopped to wipe the spittle away as the door swung shut again.

  “Cow! You should have been in that restaurant when I did your mum. I thought you perfect families went everywhere together…” He stopped to look over her shoulder at Jack, now standing behind her, pulse-gun raised.

  “Let her go, Michael.” Jack told him.

  “Jack, let me go with him. I don’t want anyone else to die.” Portia’s voice was heavy with fear.

  “No one has to die. Michael just has to let you go, and walk out of here.”

  “No offence but I just don’t trust you Jack. Who the Hades are you anyway?”

  He raised his weapon, but Jack was quicker. A pulse-beam tore the gun out of Michael’s hand. He yelped in pain then pushed Portia at Jack. As Michael turned away to open the door again another shot struck him in the back, jerking his body up. With a groan he slumped to the floor.

  Jack helped Portia up then turned to Paolo, standing in the same lift as the two dead Troopers. He had one of their pulse-guns raised but lowered it as he continued to stare at Michael’s body.

  The young EG’s expression was distant, his voice cold and emotionless. “Good riddance, Michael. That was for Ciara.”

  Chapter 26

  They were back in the long oval conference room. The eccentric shape now reminded Jack of Drucillus’ inner sanctum; a place he’d rather forget. All were present apart from Dario who was still in the Medical Centre. Thankfully it seemed that in time he would make a full recovery from the stun blast.

  Jack had finished filling them in on the details of his jump with Borg. He couldn’t bring himself to talk about Marcus’ fate, though. That was a private matter. He ended with Borg’s final scream as the soldiers proceeded to tear the pathetically huddled body apart.

  “I knew something of Borg’s relationship with his mother through my contacts at Borg Industries,” Atticus informed them, “the lurid rumours at least. She left him at an orphanage when he was seven. She was a very minor celebrity and felt his unfortunate skin condition detracted somewhat from her media profile. After a number of botched operations to cure it, she gave up and dumped the poor kid. That’s where he met Taros, a young psychopath from Napoli. The Gods know what he was doing in the place. It seems he took on the role of young Silas’ protector against others who made fun of his condition, rather like an older brother would. The pair became inseparable. But the real kick in the teeth for young Silas was the fact that his mother then adopted a prettily photogenic son and daughter as if nothing whatsoever had happened.”

  “Let me guess,” Jack asked him. “They were both EGs, right?”

  “From the Romano-Briton Government’s placement programme for illegal EG births,” Atticus confirmed with an ironic smile. “Explains quite a lot, doesn’t it?”

  Lucas held up a hand as if to prevent more discussion of Silas Borg’s past. “None of that matters now.” He wore a frown of impatience. “I know you’ve worked out what happened to Antonio by now, Jack, as have we. I told you before I don’t believe in coincidence, especially such a whopping one as this. Antonio had been researching Gaius Drucillus’ journals regarding the Truth Serum. I think maybe he had some half-cock idea to use it for enhancing the newborn EGs’ mental capacity; create a kind of mind-link between them for a future revolt against Borg. I’m afraid he always was a rather impractical idealist. That meant Chrono knew about the Truth Serum though, and that it somehow allowed that knowledge to filter through to Borg.”

  Jack nodded; he knew exactly how.

  �
��But Chrono had problems of its own.” Lucas continued, not noticing Jack’s confirmation. “It had to find an outside memory source, a natural DNA one rather than an AI, to store its back-up systems whilst under attack. It couldn’t use an EG’s portal for this task; one of Chrono’s primary laws is to safeguard them with the Automatic Jumper Protector. But Antonio was a Normal. Chrono could fail his portal link so that you, or someone very like you, would find it in their present day. It didn’t matter when in time that day would be; time travel is, after all, instantaneous. I was in Rome meeting with the Senate when Antonio jumped, otherwise I would have warned against it without reprogramming the AJP. He persuaded his father it was unnecessary; that he wouldn’t need to uncloak. Chrono had other ideas though. That’s why Dario still blames himself and I’m afraid he’s basically right. Quite how the portal appeared in your reality rather than ours is, I confess, something I still have a problem with.”

  “But I’m a Normal, just like Antonio,” Jack replied, “and it protected me from that lion, and the chasm. And I suppose from the train as well.”

  “It chose you Jack; altered its own programming and modified its fundamental laws to get you. That’s why I want you to consider very carefully what I’m going to ask next. Do you still want to go home?” He held up his hand as Jack’s mouth opened. “Because we have only an hour or so left before this facility is completely taken over by the Empire. I’ve informed my scientific contacts in Londinium about the situation here. They’ve told me Empire troopships are already on their way. They’ll capture the Ministry of Security Headquarters first, if there’s anyone still there to put up a fight. It will be chaos for a while but once the rest of Borg’s men realise the game’s up they’ll soon melt away back into the sewers where they came from. Then the troopships will be heading our way. Once they arrive, all Jumping will be discontinued for the foreseeable future. When they learn of your part in Borg’s death and who you really are they’ll take you into custody. You could be their ‘guest’ for years, maybe the rest of your life. I think you should go now before that happens.”

  “Have you got enough time to Jump me?’ Jack asked.

  “Dario and myself have been secretly working on the calculations, even while the Troopers were here. We managed to run a simulation without Michael knowing and we think we’re ready. But I can’t read Chrono’s mind and we’ve only had enough time to give it a superficial re-boot. When all this is finally over I’ll personally oversee the degrading of Chrono’s personality down to something far less aggressive. At the moment it could still pose a danger though. What’s your answer, Jack?”

  Jack looked around at them all. Sitting next to him, Portia gave a sympathetic, almost shy smile. She’d been shaking more with anger than fear when he’d helped her back to the Control Centre after their final confrontation with Michael. He’d tried to massage the pain from her bruised wrist while she clung to him, both oblivious to the whooping victory celebrations.

  “I’ll be alright,” she’d told him quietly. Then, “Please don’t go home, Jack.”

  “I have to, Portia.”

  “I know…”

  Lucas and Atticus had been quickly released. When the two men finally made an appearance, cheered in by the EGs, she’d rushed to her father’s arms and they’d embraced from the sheer relief at seeing each other alive. Lucas had suggested they leave the EGs to themselves and find somewhere quiet where they could discuss the twist and turn of events. Searching for a computer that hadn’t been smashed, he remembered the one Portia had fed the Spartacus Bug to in the conference room.

  So here they were now, all eyes on Jack.

  Lucas spoke again. “They’d treat you like a freak. Every scientist and historian in the Empire would want a piece of you. If you were allowed to live for very long, that is. Do you really think the Empire wants its citizens to know there’s another world out there where it no longer exists, where history buried it under a tide of revolt and corruption? I don’t think they’ll ever allow your story to be told. It might give even the Normals ideas.”

  Jack was aware of Portia’s eyes on him. They seemed to be asking a question. Despite his growing feelings for her the answer was the same.

  “I want to go, Lucas. I have to.” He turned to Portia. “I’m sorry, but I won’t become a freak.”

  “I understand, Jack. You’re right, you should go.” She gave him a brave smile but he saw a tear quickly blinked away.

  “And do you still trust Chrono? You, more than any of us, have had close contact with its central core so it must be your decision.”

  “It rescued me from Fulchestorium, and I’ve saved its life. We’re quits; I think it will be okay.” Privately Jack was less convinced of the Mainframe’s benevolence but he wasn’t going to hang around here to be captured and caged like some exotic beast. It was a risk worth taking.

  Lucas hailed Paolo through the intercom. “Is everything prepared, Paolo?”

  “The Capsule has been decontaminated and hermetically resealed, Dr Stewart. We will be ready to start in thirty minutes. I’ll give you a call when we need you up at the Control Centre, so be ready. The reverse Jump programme has been entered into the Mainframe. There are no problems but we’ll only have one shot.”

  “We’d better get it right then,” Lucas answered, “or we’ll be stuck with this guy forever.”

  Paolo’s voice came again. “Good luck, Jack!”

  “Jack,” Lucas addressed him once more, “we’ve still got a little time left. This Gaius Drucillus chap who made you drink the Truth Serum; tell us some more about him. You say he had plans to march on Rome with his British legions once he’d turned them into mindless killing machines. The ancient records show he never went through with it, even though it would have been a slaughter whatever their mental state. Apparently the fool threw a huge feast on the eve of departure and choked to death on a fish bone.”

  Lucas’ words surprised him. “I think you’re wrong about how Drucillus died. I saw him killed inside the Temple.

  “Well, footnote or not, it’s clearly written in all the history books.”

  “I know what I saw, Lucas. He wasn’t going to any feast last time I saw him. He was dead.”

  Jack went into the gory details of the jump that he’d skipped before: the explosions in the oval-shaped chamber; the soldiers at the back tossed into the air by the blast; the flames, choking smoke and confusion. It had been carnage. “There were loads killed and Drucillus was one of them. He was nearer to the altar but something hit him in the neck. I saw him bleed to death; it wasn’t pleasant.”

  “I don’t like the sound of this.” Lucas replied heavily. “If so many died due to Borg’s intervention it could change things. Anyone present could have influenced the future by his untimely demise. Obviously Drucillus would be dead soon anyway, but what of all the others in the chamber? We don’t know any of their names or details. What about their future, the subsequent generations of their families? They’ve all been wiped out, yet in our history still existed.”

  “Are you talking about a Duality?” Atticus asked in a less than steady voice.

  “What’s a…” Jack began.

  “A ‘Duality’ is what we tried to explain with that kids’ history book.” Atticus interrupted. “It would explain how the lost portal appeared in your world not ours. Somebody destined to influence the course of history died in that place.”

  “Atticus is right.” Lucas confirmed. There was a troubled silence. “Were all Borg’s victims in the chamber?”

  “He killed Marcus as well, in the side chamber.” Jack replied. “He shot him up close, with a pulse-gun.” He didn’t want to have to think about the Decurion’s death again.

  “Marcus? He was the one who helped you out at the arena wasn’t he, the guy who gave you the knife? What on earth was he doing in there?”

  “He was one of the guards in the Temple. That’s where he slipped me the knife… what?”

  Atticus’ long b
ony face had taken on a strange intensity. “What was his full name; can you remember what they called him?”

  Jack could. “Cornelius Julaeo, his full name was Captain Marcus Cornelius Julaeo.”

  The others’ stares registered seismic shock. “My Gods!” whispered Portia.

  “Can you remember his details from the VR lessons at my place?” Lucas asked Jack in a dry voice. “It must have been nearer to the start, chronologically.”

  Jack thought back to the interrupted history lesson. So much had taken place since, but his flawless memory could still pick out the name of Julaeo from the long list of Emperors stretching from Vespasian up until the reformation of the Republic in the twelfth century. In fact he seemed to remember Julaeo was only the third one on the list after Vespasian, the man who had apparently been lying on his deathbed in Rome whilst Drucillus planned to overthrow him. Julaeo had been the first commoner Emperor after Vespasian’s two sons, heralding the end of the Flavian dynasty. Why hadn’t he immediately recognised the name when Drucillus ordered Marcus to form the death squad? Of course, he had been rather distracted at the time.

  “Yes, he was the first Emperor after the Flavians. That’s around the point your history starts to differ from ours… but that couldn’t have been the Marcus I met. That guy ruled the Empire for something like fifty years! He must have become Caesar while still a young man. Marcus was in his mid-thirties.”

  “If that was indeed the name of the man Borg killed, and barring some absurd coincidence, he was the same man destined to be the future Emperor. The age is right and the time and place fit what little we know of Julaeo’s early life. If he died in the temple it would change our history.” Lucas looked disconcertingly at Jack. “Maybe make it into your history.”