An Argumentation of Historians

by Jodi Taylor

  ‘He risked all that to impress his girlfriend? I don’t believe it.’

  He grinned. ‘You should have seen her, Max.’

  I stared coldly. ‘Why?’

  ‘She’s an absolute belter, I can tell you. Those eyes. That hair. And I could definitely see those hips launching a thousand ships. Or in this case one small time machine. Or …’

  ‘Yes, all right. I get the drift. But circling back to my original point. How could this happen? I thought you’d stamped out this sort of thing years ago.’

  ‘Well, someone still puts up the occasional “How to Build Your Own Time Machine” website up on the Dark Web. We deal with it but it’s often too late by then.’

  ‘Can’t you just take the site down?’

  ‘Oh, we do much more than that. I don’t know about your time, but in ours, everything is electronic and everything talks to everything else, so we have a rather nasty little bug that affects anyone opening one of these sites.’

  ‘But surely it’s too late by then,’ I said. ‘By the time, you’ve infected them they’ve already got the info.’

  ‘No, no. For God’s sake, Max, we are the Time Police. Give us a little credit. We’re better than that.’ He grinned

  ‘What have you done?’

  ‘Ever heard of DDOS?’

  ‘Deedos?’

  ‘Distributed denial of service attack?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘We’ve seen to it that each and every electronic device manufactured carries a little something from the Time Police. Every single device – all over the world – leaves the factory with one of our little presents programmed into their operating system.’

  I gaped. ‘How on earth did you manage that?’

  He shrugged. ‘Again, we’re the Time Police. There’s only the one software provider – you can guess who – and it was just a case of intimidating them into doing what we wanted, which was to build it into their manufacturing process.’

  ‘But … they agreed?’

  He just grinned. ‘Again – we’re the Time Police, Max. Try to keep up. Anyway, every device is affected. Cars, computers, phones – anything with a chip is vulnerable to the bug. It’s quite dormant – not a problem to 99.9999 per cent of users – until someone tries to access these illegal web sites. There’s a tiny line of code that’s vital to anyone accessing the Dark Web – I won’t go into details because you’re St Mary’s and you won’t understand – but the instant the code is read it activates the really nasty virus built into the software and – poof!’

  ‘Poof?’

  ‘Gone,’ he said mournfully. ‘All gone. Lost and gone forever.’

  ‘You mean their computer?’

  ‘No, I mean everything. The user’s computer, car, phone, communication devices, house-management system – you know, security heating lighting – all electronics, cars, bikes, washing machines … their entire life.’

  He saw my blank look.

  ‘In our time, everyone has their own personal wi-fi network. And every device talks to every other device on that network. People control their entire lives through their comm device. It’s a wonderful thing. Until it isn’t. Because the bug just rips through everything. Every system is corrupted. Everything shuts down. Cars will never work again. Security systems are inaccessible and won’t let you into your own home. Washers dump water all over the floor. Computers go haywire. You can’t even access your own bank accounts and that’s when someone’s life disappears right down the tubes. Usually that’s when we’re able to pick them up. Before they get the opportunity to do too much damage. This one moved more quickly than we expected and got away from us slightly. Still – all’s well that ends well, eh?’

  He kicked the prone figure which moaned slightly.

  ‘So who’s after Clive Ronan at this moment?’ I asked, reminding him of his priorities.

  ‘No one. He’s gone to ground, Max. Wherever or whenever he is, he’s staying put and keeping his head down and we can’t find him.’

  ‘He could be dead.’

  ‘I hope not.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because we need to know, Max. He’s tying up people and resources we can’t afford and none of us can get a move on with our normal activities. Dead is no good if we can’t actually confirm that. Best-case scenario – one of us shoots him, he makes a full confession, expires at our feet and we take the body back for confirmation. Actually, I’m glad I ran into you this afternoon – I want to talk to you about … something. Can you spare me a minute?’

  I nodded.

  He began to issue instructions for getting the ex-time traveller back to their pod. ‘And find his pod, too. It won’t be too far away.’ He took my arm.

  I said to Markham, ‘Back in a minute.’

  He looked at Ellis. ‘Stay in sight.’

  People were still streaming past us but the bulk of the crowd had disappeared. The field was now just a sad space of crushed grass and mud, littered with people’s discarded possessions. The stands were empty. I could hear people shouting for their horses.

  ‘Actually, Max, I’ve been meaning to talk to you and I’m quite pleased to have had this opportunity of a chat without raising any suspicions. Feel free to wave your arms around and give the impression you’re not happy with me.’

  ‘I’m not happy with you. There’s nothing impressionistic about it.’

  ‘I’m not happy either. But I haven’t been wasting my time as we’ve been unsuccessfully chasing Ronan up and down the timeline. If I can quote someone standing not a million miles from here – I’ve been having a bit of a think. Shall we sit down. Before your Mr Markham becomes over-anxious.’

  We sat on the grass and looked at each other.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I was thinking,’ he said slowly, ‘that we need to set a trap for him. We’re always chasing him and getting nowhere, but you know what they say – a good hunter works out where his prey will be, goes there and waits.’

  ‘What would we use as bait?’

  ‘You, of course.’

  I blinked. ‘Wow – that’s not a bad idea.’

  ‘Thank you. Just to be clear – you weren’t my first choice.’

  ‘Oh?’ I said, annoyed. ‘Who could possibly be more baity than me?’

  ‘Well, Matthew was the obvious choice, but we felt sure that not only would you not say “yes”, but you’d force feed me my own legs while you did so.’

  ‘And then your arms and head. And then Leon would have a go.’

  ‘Yes, if we could please move on from my dismemberment and focus on the trap.’

  ‘OK, what sort of trap?’

  ‘Well, I hadn’t really got that far, but I was thinking along the lines of leaving you somewhere prominent, alone and abandoned – you know, something Ronan himself would be comfortable with – and just hide until he comes for you.’

  ‘Hmmm. I see you favour the subtle and complicated approach.’

  ‘Well, obviously there are a few details to be worked out yet.’

  ‘A few? That’s Time Police speak for all of them. Besides, he’d never fall for something so obvious.’

  ‘And I suppose that being St Mary’s, you’ll come up with some ridiculously over-complicated scheme involving a cast of thousands that will go horribly wrong, result in massive destruction, enormous numbers of casualties and permanent damage to the timeline, which we, the always reliable Time Police will have to sort out. Whereas Plan A involves hiding behind a rock and just shooting the bastard on sight.’

  ‘Before he kills me.’

  ‘Well, if possible, of course.’

  I shifted uncomfortably on the grass. ‘How’s Matthew doing?’

  ‘Very well. Excellent progress in mathematics and physics.’

  I sighed. ‘That’ll please his father.’

  Ellis looked at me.

  ‘My talents lie in other directions.’ I said, defensively.

  ‘Good heavens. Have we final
ly found something you’re not good at?’

  ‘Not at all. I was in the top 98 per cent for maths at school. I was less good at physics.’

  He smiled slightly. ‘Well, he’s good at sport. He enjoys his football. He’s had a long-suffering mentor appointed to him who, at this moment, is working on persuading him to have his hair cut.’

  He grinned at me and I grinned back. ‘Yeah – good luck with that.’

  ‘He’s a good lad, Max. I took him to the Science Museum last week and he enjoyed it so much I was only able to get him out by threatening him with broccoli.’

  I smiled. ‘Thank you for taking him on.’

  ‘It’s my pleasure. He’s a great kid. And having been present at his birth it’s the least I could do.’

  There was a long pause as I sought for a way of asking what I really wanted to know, ‘Does he mention me at all?’ without sounding needy.

  He read my mind. ‘He was talking about you yesterday, actually. Yes, he’s looking forward to returning to St Mary’s for a visit. He’s very keen to see Markham and Miss … Lingoss, is it?’ I nodded. ‘He’s made a 3D puzzle he wants to show you and … there was something else. Oh yes. You have good chimneys. Can’t remember what we were talking about at the time, so sorry – no context for that one.’

  It was beginning to get dark and I needed to get my people back to the pod before the curfew bell rang. I stood up and brushed down my skirt. ‘What we were talking about – you know – Clive Ronan. Let me have a think as well and I’ll …’ I stopped, not sure ‘… contact you.’

  ‘Dr Bairstow can always get hold of us.’

  ‘Can he?’ I frowned. How? How do you contact someone in the future?

  ‘He can.’ He nodded over his shoulder, presumably in the direction of the failed time traveller. ‘I’m going to have my hands full with Sunny Jim and his illegal pod over the next few days.’

  ‘Why?’

  He looked at me directly. ‘If you’re going to execute a man, Max, you need to make sure the case is watertight.’

  ‘Will you? Execute him, I mean?’

  ‘Well, I won’t, certainly. Not part of my duties, thank God. But I doubt it will come to that. And even if it does, he brought it on himself. I don’t have to tell you what would have happened had he succeeded today. We’d have had to bring in clean-up squads and all sorts of nastiness ensues when we have to do that.’

  I peered at him in the gathering gloom, suddenly cold. ‘Does it?’

  ‘Yes, it does, but you don’t need to know about that. Go and hatch a masterplan.’ He nodded over to where Peterson and Markham were pretending not to listen. ‘You should get back to your people.’

  ‘Yes, I should. I have a mission to complete here.’

  ‘I’ll wait to hear from you, Max.’

  ‘You will.’

  ‘Trouble?’ said Clerk, as I rejoined the others.

  ‘Not for us,’ I said, ‘but that poor bugger’s going to wish he hadn’t got up this morning.’

  ‘Serves him right,’ he said. ‘And where did it get him? He didn’t change a thing and he’s going to spend the rest of his life regretting he ever tried.’

  ‘If he’s lucky,’ said Prentiss, sombrely. ‘Max, will they really execute him?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Ellis seemed to think there might be some leniency shown, but certainly he’s in for a long, long spell in a very unpleasant place.’

  ‘Clerk is right,’ said North. ‘If he’d succeeded …’

  ‘I’m not sure he deserves to die,’ said Peterson.

  ‘If he’d succeeded, many more people would have died than just him. And it’s not as if he did it out of any sort of religious or political conviction – he only did it to impress his girlfriend, for God’s sake.’

  ‘Whereas religious or political convictions would have made it more acceptable?’

  ‘That’s not what I’m saying …’

  ‘Time to wrap things up,’ I said. Historians argue like other people breathe. ‘Miss Sykes, how are you doing?’

  ‘We’re on our way back to the pod, Max. The king was only here for a few minutes and then they carted him off in a closed carriage. He’ll be at the palace by now.’

  And the queen would be contemplating a future that was suddenly looking a lot less rosy.

  ‘We’ll meet you there,’ I said. ‘Have we done the FOD plod?’

  Foreign Object Drop check is very important. We’re not allowed to leave anything behind. There’s a corresponding POD plod when we check equally carefully that we haven’t inadvertently picked something up. We don’t just fling these assignments together, you know.

  Back at St Mary’s, I made them all wait while the decontamination lamp did its work and then watched them bicker their way up to Sick Bay. I was sitting at the console, shutting things down when Leon entered.

  ‘Hello,’ I said, pleased to see him.

  ‘Hello yourself,’ he said, elbowing me aside to take over. ‘How did it go?’

  I decided not to mention Ellis’s plan or using me as bait – and certainly not about using Matthew – not until I’d spoken to Dr Bairstow anyway, so I gave Leon the version suitable for nervous husbands.

  ‘It was fine,’ I said. ‘We watched Fat Harry taking the first steps to paranoia, tyranny and murder, and met the Time Police.’

  He finished at the console and turned to me. ‘What were they doing there?’

  ‘Apprehending a fugitive. He says Matthew is well and looking forward to his next visit.’

  I chased everyone for their reports, including Markham, who seemed to think because he was Head of Security now he didn’t have to do that sort of thing any longer, and Peterson, who as Deputy Director thought something very similar. Sykes and North were in the same ward as me and knew better than even to try. It was a bit like pulling teeth, but I got there eventually, signed and initialled everything and bundled it all off to Dr Bairstow, following up with a personal visit on my discharge from Sick Bay the next morning.

  Mrs Partridge waved me straight through and I entered his office with the confident air of one whose assignment hadn’t gone perfectly to plan but, just for once, was completely blameless.

  He was sitting behind his desk. I ran my eye over its polished surface. It’s never cluttered, because he doesn’t work like that, but the odd file positioned to one side is usually a good sign and gives him something to fiddle with during the difficult bits. A completely empty desk is a very bad sign and always a signal either to:

  Marshal the appropriate arguments as quickly as possible, or

  Issue a blanket denial that covers everything that has ever happened since recorded History began and – given the nature of our job – everything that can happen until recorded History ends.

  Neither is ever particularly successful.

  On this occasion there were two files in front of him. Both mine – so no clues there.

  He opened the batting, pointing his beaky nose at me. ‘I’ve read your mission reports, Dr Maxwell. It would seem you encountered an unexpected circumstance.’

  ‘I did, sir. What did you want to discuss first?’

  ‘Let’s start with the reason for the jump, shall we? I gather Henry came – how does Miss Sykes phrase it – a bit of a cropper.’

  ‘He certainly did, sir. If you’ve had a chance to view the footage you’ll know it’s quite horrific.’

  ‘I agree. Dr Stone is reviewing the files now. A fall of that nature certainly lends credence to the theories of a completely altered personality.’

  ‘Indeed, sir, although I always feel the need to point out he was a bit of a bastard before he fell off his horse.’

  Silence fell as he lined up my files with mathematical precision.

  ‘I believe there is something else you wish to discuss with me.’

  ‘There is, sir,’ and I described the conversation I’d had with Captain Ellis. ‘I haven’t actually had much of a chance to think through the
implications, sir, and I didn’t think I should do so until I’d had a chance to discuss it with you.’

  He swivelled his chair and sat for a long time, staring unseeingly out of the window. I suddenly thought how tired he looked. As always, I had no idea what he was thinking, but he obviously came to some sort of a conclusion because he turned back and said, ‘Very well, Dr Maxwell, put something together and we’ll discuss it another time. There would be a great number of details to work out.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  I got up to go.

  ‘And Max?’

  ‘Yes, sir?’

  ‘Tell no one. No one at all.’

  ‘Understood, sir. Do I have a deadline?’

  ‘As soon as possible, I think.’

  I don’t know what made me ask, ‘Any particular reason why, sir?’ but his answer frightened the living daylights out of me.

  ‘Be aware, Max. It won’t always be me sitting in this chair. My successor may have different priorities.’

  ‘But surely, sir, Dr Peterson will be your successor.’

  ‘That is my intention, but it would seem others have other ideas.’

  ‘I can’t imagine St Mary’s without you, sir.’

  ‘You may have to.’

  I stood silently, turning over the implications of his words until eventually he waved a hand, indicating my departure was urgently required, picked up a file and lost interest in me.

  I called in at our room to drop off my gear and, to my surprise, Leon was there, making himself a mug of tea. I could see at once it wasn’t one of his good days.

  ‘Just passing through,’ I said, chucking my grab bag in the corner. ‘I thought you’d be down in Hawking.’

  He sighed. ‘I can’t help feeling it doesn’t do much for my image when people see me tottering about this place, a broken man.

  ‘Oh, give over. You were a broken man long before Ronan blew you up.’

  ‘Do I gather you don’t actually want any tea?’

  I watched him struggle. Even the simplest tasks took him ages. I stifled the urge to go and help but I did have to carry the mugs for him. We sat on the sofa and I covered his face with kisses.