Victim of Circumstance (The Time Stone Trilogy Book 3)

by Robert F Hays

  “A bar owner?” Blain commented. “They look more like 3V actors playing the part of Secret Service agents.”

  “Huh?” Yuri said. “Could be worse than we thought.”

  Ida walked toward the office door and knocked twice. “Oh come on,” she said. “Only one way to find out.”

  They entered the office. Captain White sat behind her plain military style desk. Around the room four others, two males and two females, reclined in armchairs. The foursome stood before the Captain’s desk and rendered the customary salute. Colin, as team leader, stood forward, the others behind him.

  “Private Young,” the Captain said. “I guess you’re wondering why I called you in.”

  “Ah... yes... ah...” Colin stammered looking around at the expressionless faces of the others in the room. “It isn’t often that one is called into the commander’s office. It must be something seriou... ah... important.”

  “Yes, you’ve been selected for a mission,” the Captain said then paused to watch for a reaction.

  “Mission?” Colin said. “We have six weeks left to go in our training.”

  The Captain stood. “You’ll complete that at a later date,” she said. “For now, I’m officially assigning you to these people from the Commonwealth Special Branch.”

  She took a pace around the desk, but before leaving the room, she leaned slightly to check the controls on a cube shaped instrument. Colin recognized it as a damper, an anti-eavesdropping device that prevents intrusion from electronic spies by scrambling the electromagnetic fields in the room.

  As the door closed, one of the females in the room stood. She was a rather attractive lady in her early thirties with long black hair tied at the back. The conservative outfit she wore matched her emotionless expression. Colin knew the look well. It was that of an agent trained so as not to give away any information by facial tone reaction.

  She gestured toward four seats behind them then half sat on the corner of the desk. As they took a seat and looked up she changed to a friendly smile. Colin also knew this to be a trained contrivance intentionally used to put people at ease. This time, it wasn’t working.

  “So you’re the famous Colin Young,” she said while continuing to smile at all four. “The young man from Old Earth who slices people up in bars and shoots people in the groin with an antique rifle.”

  “Ah... yes... ah...” Colin answered. “Well, they were attacking me and I didn’t know that Mr. Montoya was a friend. I thought he was one of the gang trying to get father.”

  “Ah... ma’am,” Yuri interrupted. “The suspense is killing me, how long are they going to have us pulling double guard duty?”

  All four agents burst out laughing, then the woman who appeared to be in charge continued. “No punishment, the two girls in the bar told the police it was entirely the fault of the young men that attacked you.”

  “So,” Colin said, shrugging and looking confused, “why’re we here then?”

  “We have a mission for you.”

  “Mission?” Yuri exclaimed. “What about our training?”

  “You have progressed sufficiently for the task at hand.”

  “But, why us?” Colin said. “You have a hundred thousand Rangers to choose from, all fully trained and experienced.”

  “How are you four getting along together?” the woman said, seemingly changing the subject.

  “Extremely well,” Colin said. “We get along better than any team in the battalion....”

  “Except for when they run off and leave me,” Ida interrupted.

  “That’s because you were computer matched,” she explained.

  “Ah...” Colin said, becoming even more confused. “Does that mean this thing, whatever it is, has been planned from the time we entered the service?”

  The woman nodded. “Private Vasselnicoff,” she said while looking at Yuri. “What’s your background?”

  Yuri shrugged. “I’m a big city boy. Born and raised in New Minsk.”

  “Private Hannon?”

  “Country,” Ken said. “From a long line of farmers.”

  “Private Hennessey?”

  Ida smiled. “And I’m a suburbanite. Colin here has a completely different upbringing. So, we’re a mixture, what does that have to do with it?”

  “What do you think?” the woman said.

  “Well,” Colin said. “It’s not a combat mission, we’re not fully trained. It’s not covert recon, again incomplete training. Whatever it is, it has to do with the fact that each of us knows how to deal with a different lifestyle. The situation must have something to do with either a mixture, like ourselves, or an unknown style where our diversity would give us a better chance at understanding.”

  “Something like that,” the woman continued, “and also, together, you speak over half the major languages of the galaxy.”

  Colin thought for a moment. “So, we have to either infiltrate, or initiate a liaison with some society, I would say one you know little about.”

  “No,” Ken said, “one they know nothing about. That’s why the number of languages we speak is important. It’s another old colony ship from Earth like the one your father helped in orbit around Casia. They’ve been under cryogenics for the last two thousand years. That’s why they want you along, Colin. You know the people from Old Earth.”

  The woman nodded again. “You were also selected for your intelligence.”

  Ken frowned. “Cut the mystery lady,” he said. “You should know that Rangers like to be given the facts straight.”

  “I was just about to do just that,” the woman said. “For about a year we have known of the existence of another Old Earth colony, not just a colony ship, one that has, as yet, not been contacted. Our probe’s analysis of the upper atmosphere indicates that the planet was converted about six hundred years ago. The people live mainly an agrarian existence, but we could not rule out the existence of large cities. One thing we do know is that their industry is quite primitive and has regressed to no more than the early steam age, if that. That’s all we know. The only contact we’ve made is a quick flyby with an atmospheric probe.”

  “Has it got a name?” Yuri said.

  “It’s designated in the registry as UNI-57433C and listed as uninhabitable.”

  Colin raised his hands and assumed a questioning pose. “Then why not just send a delegation of diplomats to talk to them?”

  “As you know, we’re still technically at war with the Alliance. The Bund are especially fond of territorial acquisition. When the colony’s existence was first discovered we intentionally kept everything quiet. If we announced it, or the Alliances intelligence found out about our interest in the planet, the inhabitants would soon find an invasion fleet on their doorstep. That’s why we decided on a small team dropped there by nothing larger than a scout ship. When you four report the status of their society we can better decide what to do about it.”

  Yuri scratched his head. “How do they know even that much from one pass by an atmospheric probe?”

  “Cow farts,” Ken and Ida said in unison then burst out laughing.

  “Quite correct,” the woman said. “The detection of both animal and human flatulence that’ve reached the upper atmosphere, coupled with a volume comparison to industrial pollutants tells a lot about a civilization.”

  “Yes but...” Colin said, trying to figure out what to say next. “Why me? After six hundred years they’d probably have socially evolved well beyond the people I knew on Earth.”

  “Probably not, with the level of technology we presume they have, it’s more likely that the majority of the population live in isolated communities with very little movement between. Under those conditions a society evolves very little. They’re possibly closer to the people you knew two thousand years ago back on Earth than to any other group in the galaxy. The exception, of course, is the people of Casia who are from Earth.”

  Colin thought for a moment. “Does the fact that my father’s a head of state and a
member of the Commonwealth Council have anything to do with it?”

  The woman nodded. “You have a full mandate from your father to negotiate on his behalf in the name of the Casian government.”

  “So, in that case, I guess we’re the logical choice. Is this a volunteer mission, or are we ordered to go?”

  “Volunteer.”

  The foursome glanced at each other then nodded.

  “I guess we volunteer then,” Colin said, trying to conceal his excitement.

  “The psych analysts said you would.”

  Chapter 2

  Jim staggered as a gust of wind nearly overbalanced him. It wasn’t just the sudden increases in wind velocity that had him wander a meandering path, it was also the lulls. While leaning into the sixty k.p.h. wind, a sudden drop to forty k.p.h. was like the instant removal of a leaning post.

  He knew that the sounds of the world outside his sealed protective suit were approaching the deafening level. The built in sonic dampeners reduced the racket to the level of distant surf. Grunts, groans and whispered curses from his fellow explorers could be clearly heard over the suits communication system.

  A distant sun struggling to penetrate the toxic atmosphere illuminated the dull gray sand rapidly drifting around his legs and across the surface of the dead planet. Waves of the traveling sand obeyed the erratic wind patterns under visibly swirling clouds of dust and gasses. Visibility was down to a matter of meters.

  “Human remains here!” Levin said. Jim turned to see him kneel and place the device he was carrying on the ground in front of him. “Radkin test on the soil reads intentionally buried.”

  “In that case we can’t be in the right place,” Jim said. “The cemetery was miles away.”

  “Levin,” Redmond called. “Do you have a radio date on the bones?”

  “Yes, I believe it’s a quite accurate one too. It reads buried in the mid twenty first century.”

  “There it is Jim. By that time they were burying people anywhere they could.”

  Jim took a rambling path around the engrossed technician. “Those civilian maps weren’t meant to be that accurate and the military map doesn’t show the street names. We could be wandering around for days and find nothing.”

  “We’ll find something,” Redmond said. Jim caught a glimpse of a smile through his faceplate. “In archeology, strange things happen when you least expect them. We just have to follow the building foundations, street by street, until you recognize a pattern.”

  “More remains,” Levin said as he shifted the device to his right. “It’s a cat, intentionally buried, date early twenty first century.”

  Jim threw his arms in the air in a lopsided gesture caused by the wind catching the material of his suit. “I can’t remember every cat that died while I was there. I don’t even know who owned a cat. Didn’t talk to the neighbors much.”

  “There’s something with it,” Levin said as he moved the device further. “Three small objects made of a combination of metal and plastic. The metal’s now solid oxide, but the computer can reform an image of what they used to look like.”

  Jim bent down and watched the screen on top of the device as an enlarged facsimile of the objects two meters below them slowly formed.

  Jim stood bolt upright. “Shit for brains,” he said.

  Levin looked up in surprise. “Huh?”

  “Shit for brains,” Jim repeated. “Our stupid cat. Michael was so upset when he died that he put three toy cars into the grave to keep him company.”

  “This was your cat?” Redmond exclaimed.

  “Yep, he died two months before we left. We called it shit for brains because he was living proof that an animal can exist without a brain.”

  Redmond took a few paces back in the direction they came. “Then the foundations we just crossed must’ve been your house.”

  Jim looked around then down at the compass on his sleeve. “Ah... yes, we buried him behind the tool shed. In that case the corner of the house must have been over there.” He raised an arm and pointed.

  Levin rapidly zigzagged across the level ground continually staring at the device in his hands. “Got it,” he said. “What’s left of the bricks are scattered, but they definitely form a corner.”

  “How far down?” Jim asked.

  “About a meter.”

  “Can we go live?” asked the voice of Carl Nagel from thirty four light years away.

  “Ah... yes,” Jim said as he trotted up to join Levin.

  Levin wandered, deep in concentration. “It goes this way,” he said.

  “The foundations should go about six meters, then turn left.”

  “This is Carl Nagel for the Compton network news. We interrupt your regularly scheduled program to bring you an update on the Redmond expedition to Old Earth. Jim Young has found the house he used to live in almost two thousand years ago.”

  “It turns left here,” Levin said.

  “No!” Jim exclaimed. “That’s too soon.”

  The newsman, obviously on the air and talking to millions around the galaxy, continued. “The house was located...”

  “Hold it Carl,” Jim interrupted. “This isn’t quite right.”

  “It’s a different style of foundation,” announced a technician from thirty light years away. “The read outs I’m getting from the field scanner are that of a later addition.”

  “Oh shit,” Jim said. “Small bathroom, it was minute. Someone must have added on to make it larger.”

  “Yes,” Levin said. “The original foundations continue.”

  “Remember Jim,” Redmond commented. “The house was probably inhabited for up to forty years after you left.”

  “I take it that you’ve found it?” Carl asked.

  “It seems so,” Jim announced.

  The newsman continued his telecast. “The house was located by the discovery of the grave of shit for brains, Mr. Young’s pet cat...”

  “Carl,” Jim interrupted. “We used to call him brains in public.”

  “Correction,” Nagel said. “The cat’s name was brains. Jim, how did it die?”

  “Ah... The next door neighbor backed over him with his car. He was quite upset about it as he knew how the boys felt about the silly thing.”

  “I take it that it wasn’t the worlds most intelligent feline?”

  “Yep, he was the retarded son I never had.”

  “It turns here,” Levin commented.

  “That was my back porch.”

  “Could we have the 2V from Jim’s suit camera and the overlay?” Carl asked.

  “Put it through,” Redmond ordered.

  “Stand at the corner of the house, Jim,” the voice of another technician said. “We need a better satellite fix.”

  “Dr Redmond,” Carl said. “Could you explain what the viewers are about to see?”

  “Yes. What we’ve done is to form a 3 dimensional computer image of the area as it looked at the time Jim lived here. It’ll appear on your viewer’s screens at home, as well as Jim’s faceplate, as a translucent overlay. The images were compiled from photographs and video taken by Jim and his family when they lived here.”

  “A lot of it was Colin,” Jim added. “He got a digital camera for Christmas and ran around taking pictures of everything.”

  “Correct,” Redmond continued. “But, as the ground level is about a meter higher than it was at the time, the image will not be in exactly the same position as the actual house. We’re very fortunate in the fact that it is so close to the original level at this time. Our instruments tell us that three hundred years ago the ground level was at least fifteen meters higher than it is now. A change in global weather patterns converted this area from a slow build up, to a slow wearing down process. In one hundred years, unless the weather again changes, the level would be below the original. This would be tragic, from an archeological viewpoint, as all evidence of habitation would be scattered or destroyed, as it already has over most of Old Earth.”

&nbs
p; “Turning on image,” a technician announced.

  “Holy hell,” Jim said as his faceplate suddenly turned a translucent white.

  “Sorry Jim,” the tech said. “I was so excited I forgot to tell you to stand back. Your head’s in a wall.”

  Jim took two paces back and his jaw dropped as he saw the gray, vinyl siding wall of his former house. He slowly turned his head to the right and looked down his driveway and into the street. His mind ignored the occasional swirling cloud of dust as it entered the image. The dull gray half-light was now the blue skies and rugged trees of Central Texas. Sid’s house was across the road. His dog Bear sat as he always did in the carport.

  Jim slowly started to wander down his driveway.

  “Watch your footing Jim,” Redmond warned. “The image is a slight downgrade. The ground, as it is now, slopes slightly up.”

  As Jim reached his front fence he turned to look back at the house.

  “Not so fast, Jim,” the voice of a tech said. “You’ll make the viewers at home nauseous turning the camera around like that.”

  “Sorry,” Jim said. “I’m a little flustered by this scene. It’s a different feeling seeing it here, where it actually was, than in the 3V room.”

  Jim’s mind snapped back to the actual, physical vista as Redmond walked toward him through the front wall and over the chrysanthemum flowerbed in front of it.

  “Dr Redmond,” Carl said. “By the smile on your face, I take it that the first test of the system’s a success.”

  “By the look on Jim’s face I know it is,” Redmond returned.

  “Jim, I heard it said that bricks were detected. This structure looks like a wood house. Can you explain?”

  “The foundations were concrete and brick, but the house itself was wood with a plastic outer surface.”

  “When will the site be open for public visitation?” Carl said.

  “A lot of work has to be done yet,” Redmond said. “Local weather modification, the ground level has to be lowered to the original, and a small army of archaeologists and techs have to carefully uncover what remains of the structures. Then we have to build a shuttle port and more than one hotel. I have no idea where the financing will come from.”