by Grant Fausey
"If only we had know this centuries ago then maybe this last Jolland would have survived."
"You could always go back and––" added Tanna.
"And what, change history again?" interrupted the old clone of Callen Sheers. "We've been through all this before. She wasn't supposed to survive the past. The computer council has already altered the course, besides we've no way to know the truth. History has been altered then rewritten so many times there's no way of knowing what the true path of humanity would have been. It can't all stem back to a single incident. It can't be that simple. Kellnar wouldn't have been that stupid. He wouldn't have projected the possibilities for the entire future course of mankind on a single event."
"Why not ... it makes sense," countered Tanna.
"But––" objected the elderly version of the old man, turning away from Tanna.
"Wait a minute," he continued, putting his hand to his chin. He stroked his lengthy beard. "Let's assume for a moment that you're right; that all possible futures have a common point in time. That would mean our discovery has already been calculated for. The result would be one of several possible courses of action."
"Yeah––" said Tanna agreeing. He was more than a little jittery.
"No...." said the elderly Callen Sheers, pulling Tanna aside into the shadow. "That's not what I meant at all. Compute the possibilities ... Kellnar's plan would have to be fool proof. His existence is at stake."
"Right," whispered the older clone of Callen Sheers, as Callen half listened, thinking about the bruises on his head. He had travelled back in time to stop her from being killed. And still, she was abducted when he returned. Something didn't fit right; something was amuck in the plan.
"Don't you see?” The old clone turned back to Tanna and said, “He had to have a plan within the plan, something to make it obvious to us and still be able to cover his tracks. It has to be simple, something we've overlooked. His life was at stake I tell you. His life is at stake."
Tanna backed away, oddly as if he had something to hide.
"What is it? What is it that you're hiding, Tanna? I must know!”
"Stay away old man," he said with anger, backing away. "You don't know the half of it. You're dealing in the darkness, elder. We both know he had a plan. It's just not the one you've worked out. He did have an insurance police." The old clone stepped closer to Tanna, closing the space between them.
"I trusted you––" he said.
"So did he," answered Tanna, pulling a small device from a pocket. "And that's why I'm here to insure his existence."
"Why you're here?" said the elder Callen, questioning. "Do you know what you've done?"
"Yes––" commanded Tanna. "That's why I can't allow you to go back again, old friend." The elder Callen Sheers screamed, but the sound never exited his mouth as his body flash burned out of existence.
Tanna moved swiftly, staying in the shadows of the portal. The younger, bruised clone of Callen Sheers witnessed the death of the elder and backed into the shadows trying to stay out of sight. Tanna looked around, hunting for witnesses to his crime, but he was nowhere in sight. Callen looked from side to side, frightened. He witnessed the death of another of his kind; his elder clone. He had witnessed his own death. "What has happened..." he whispered, "...is responsible for all our failures to come. I've no choice but to go back again. I have to take his place."
Tanna moved away from the site of his deed and vanished into the depths of the tunnels. It was risky to follow, thought Callen, but he had no choice. The portal was one-way trip.
––– 35 –––
COUNTERPARTS
Jerolda Manchi and Tee waited on the other side of the portal, still on the city rig, hidden in the tunnel below the docking port. Treads stopped dead in his tracks in front of them, watching as the old clone of Callen Sheers, the young wounded Callen and Tanna disappeared through the portal. The vortex was gone. Only solid metal remained where the threshold of the Gateway vortex had been. Treads wiped his hand across the surface. "We've a problem," he said bluntly. "Something must have gone wrong. The portal has closed to this side of the vortex. It's time to wake the cargo."
"The Cargo?" questioned Tee. "What's the cargo got to do with it?"
"Everything," said Treads, turning to address the rest of his crew: Jumpstart, his round, basketball–sized computer expert hopped to the front of the grid, landing on his bipeds. He turned up a hand and put his other on his round side.
"Should I put them on defrost or quick thaw?" he asked Treads.
Tee looked dumbfounded, as the others laughed. He had no idea of what the hell was going on. Treads made a snarl and backed away shaking his head. "Handle it will you clicks! Jumpstart thinks he's making breakfast!"
"Yeeessss, Siiirr," stuttered Clicks. "I'll getttt on ittt righttt away."
"Good! Rotob you're with me."
Jerolda Manchi looked at Tee, his mouth dropping partially open. There was a hint of a familiar voice in the air, above them on the docking port grids. Tee felt a bumpy sensation running up and down his arms. "Why that sounds like me," Tee said to Jerolda Manchi, hearing his former self-talking. Jerolda Manchi smiled back at him, stepping out of the way as Treads pulled Rotob along behind him.
"I'll see you two back aboard the Atlantis. Don't be long. I'm sure Jaggard will want to get underway as soon as we can raise ship."
"Right!" answered Tee blindly, his attention on the events above him. The Atlantis two would be departing for the past shortly, and although the facts didn't interest him the thought of seeing his own departure, did. "Come on, Jerolda Manchi," Tee said with a fraction of delight in his voice. "We're going."
Jerolda Manchi stepped out behind him. The thrill of departure was wet on his lips. Like before, the Atlantis would be on its way to the past; to the time before Telta Minor took root on Rampia's shattered island surfaces. Jerolda Manchi knew Rampia's life had ended abruptly, cultivated in a matrix of regeneration. But that didn't matter, the Industries had changed the past, altering the damage in a cover-up of consolidation and solidification planet bound spheres. An operation that took the seat of the galactic Capital, the home of the Senate ... the planet Athin and making it a dust ball called Rampia. Telta Minor grew out of the Rampian matrix, redistributing the world into a cavalcade of islands and misty barriers. What was once one and the same planet became different Sources of evolutions. Regeneration had given Rampia new life, and as a result, in a way Athin was reborn.
Now, all that remained was to see the world flourish again, but the Industries put a stop to that as well. There city rigs and mining complexes crossed the land, churning the planet upside down like sieves––taking without giving life in return. A second alteration of the future began with a regard for life. The plan seemed solid enough with a single destiny in mind. However, as Tee and Jerolda Manchi both knew, the chances of outside influences grew in proportion to the amount of interference. This resulted in overlapping possible futures with pitfalls too numerous to mention. If the course of the future remained unaltered, as it had in the time of their original departure, the world of Telta Minor could change at any moment––one life ending, another starting. The universe was being altered a piece at a time: A moment here, and there. The thought of total inhalation was incomprehensible and Tee was having a hard time dealing with his feelings on the matter.
Jerolda Manchi; however, stood up through a hole in the grids beside Tee, staying partially out of sight as he watched himself cross the docking bay in front of the cloud-riggers docked along the rim of the Nexusphere. The twosome had familiar faces, one taller than the other; one more interested than the other.
"I don't know why they teamed me with you," Tee said on his earlier walk to his counterpart Relix, awaiting departure. "We'll never find what we're supposed too. It just isn't right. We're just not…”
"Well––" answered Relix. "Someone had to team up with you, and no one else wanted any part of you, so I guess I'm stuck wit
h you."
"So this is the great wonder ship?" groaned Tee, sarcastically. He changed the subject, passing in front of the Atlantis Two. "I'll bet it can't even get past light speed!"
"Who would want too?" laughed Relix.
"I would," argued Tee.
"Look," continued Relix, "you wouldn't have found the last thing you where looking for if I hadn't helped you finish that cloning job you where stuck with. Whoever heard of making a thousand replicas of something, anyway? It's ridicules."
Relix walked on ahead of Tee, stopping a short distance from the Beamrider. "No one said it would be an easy job. I don't even know what a Trigennian looks like, do you?"
Tee snarled again. "If I knew that––" he said, "I certainly wouldn't need your help, now would I?"
"Probably not," said the Trod with an overtone. "I'm not sure you will, but in time I'll grow on you!"
"I sure hope not."
"We'll see," laughed Relix, repeating himself as Jerolda Manchi stepped out of the hole in the grids and walked away. "Told you––" he told Tee.
"I'm glad that's over," said Tee, watching as the doubles disappeared around a corner.
"Me too, Tee. Me too."
Tee smiled at Jerolda Manchi, but his grin flattened out forming a worried look on his face. Four scruffy-looking men were making their way along the docking bay directly for them, with another young girl in tow. "Galactic traders," announced Tee, disgusted.
"More bounty hunters?" snapped Jerolda Manchi. He jumped out of the way, nearly being kicked by one of the men.
"Damn Critters, the place is fifthly with them," scorned the man in the middle. "I'll never get use to living machines. The damn things are everywhere."
Tee helped Jerolda Manchi to his feet.
"Human scum," said Jerolda Manchi. "That kind of human is nothing but swamp scum."
"Are you okay?"
"Is that concern for me that I'm seeing, Tee?"
Tee huffed and let go of the tree dweller. "Not exactly," he said soberly.
Jerolda Manchi laughed and started off, stepping ahead of Tee. "That's more like it,” he said with a smirk. “Now that's the old Tee I know. If we hurry we should be able to see our departure."
"Who cares, Jerolda Manchi!" shouted Tee. "We've seen it all before."
"Yeah, but it always gives me a thrill," he added, hurrying to see the departure of the ship as the machine lifted into the air. Jerolda Manchi smiled and waved good-bye. The Beamrider pivoted sharply, shooting for the heavens on a thin beam of light.
Jerolda Manchi turned back to Tee, who was long gone in the other direction. "Tee," called Jerolda Manchi. "Wait up."
"Not on your life," answered Tee, heading off as happy as a biologically construct could be. Jerolda Manchi stopped wondering what was wrong with Tee; he was suddenly preoccupied with something other than himself.
Jerolda Manchi didn't know it, but it was more reasonable to let him figure it out for himself, but there wasn't time. The galactic trader was still in the background. He'd never left, just blended into the crowd and Tee was making his way through the crowds into a side street heading straight for him.
• • •
"Ready," he said to Crusty, keeping his fingers crossed. "Activating main drive accelerators." Crusty looked over at him from the flight deck, ready to push the eject button if the engine start sequence so much as twitched a degree into the danger zone. The hulk strained under the stress, rattling like a box of nails bent on destruction. Kristic turned his upper body toward the rear of the ship and looked back the narrow corridor to the passenger compartment where Travis stood in the doorway.
The old sailor snapped up a smile, and said: "Hang on, kid!"
Travis returned the smile. He was already hanging on for dear life. There was a moment to lose, especially with this much uncertainty in the air. The ship was a bucket of bolts, spun together with wire and spit. The crew wasn't even sure if the thing would run long enough to explode into a dust ball.
"Main drive reaching core temperature," said another voice from the background. "We're ready to attempt main systems up-link."
"Beginning recycle sequence," answered Tipon, a slender meter tall Tripodal with spindly arms and legs. "Core temperature fluctuating––one degree, two degrees. Staying within set parameters."
"Clear to begin engine recycle sequence," announced Kristic. "Fire'um up, Crusty!"
"Aye, aye, skipper!" answered the old bio-machine. "Bring the mains on line."
"That means you, Maxie. Bring the mains on line."
"Are you sure?"
Tipon reached over and hit another biped on the shoulder.
"What––" shouted Tipon, "of course I'm sure. Fire'um up, so we can get out of here."
"Aye, aye, Sir," jumped Maxie, wearing a big grin on his face. "Main drive on line. Engines answering to helm."
The ship began to move, lifting from the side street where it had wedge between the buildings long ago. The galactic traders stepped through the crowd pushing aside the passers-by in order to see the great globe-shaped Beamrider lift into the air. The street turned into a maze of wind tunnels, blowing tarps and fleeing artifacts in every direction. The ship was finally airborne.
"I know you're there, Babloo Kyrant." The galactic trader shook his head, covering his eyes from the blast of the exhaust just as another trader grabbed him by the shirt, pulling at him.
"Late with the payment again, Jonsanna Klue," commanded the dark man, "or should I call you by your cloned name––Callen Sheers? This time Bogar's looked for you himself!”
"Thanks for the warning," said Klue. "Just don't stand in my way when I return to Myatek."
"Who says you’re leaving Myatek?" barked another large man with huge hands and reddish eyes from the top of a gantry. "Traders think they own you. Well––baja on them."
"Who says you'll ever be leaving Myatek," laughed Jonsanna Klue spinning around about half a step, wheeling a laser gun from under his long cloak. "That can only be Bogar Minnolus––you old pirate!"
"I was just on my way to see you, Klue!"
"You mean shoot you, don't you?" barked the replicant, pointing a weapon straight at the trader's head.
"Now Klue––you're over reacting," warned the trader. "Just because you weren't happy about our little deal to get you back."
"Some deal," snapped Jonsanna Klue, gesturing with his weapon for the trader to come down the stairs. "Three Trods and a native girl. As I remember it––something wasn't very fair about it: Oh yeah––now I remember. You left me too; shall we say, for dead. Something about not wanting to pay for half of the return."
"We'll––times change, but cargo doesn't. All it can do is spoil and rot away. Still … if you have the cargo, I'll trade her for it."
"And what cargo might that be?"
"She's a fine catch!" announced Bogar. "And I don't appreciate the games, clone."
"Watch who you're calling a clone," said Jonsanna Klue.
"Ah," snarled Bogar, licking his chops like the beast in wait of a feast.
"You just be there for pick-up, Bogar," demanded Jonsanna Klue, stepping down the stairs one steps at a time. "I'll meet you on the dark side, when the Black Sun docks."
"One can't always be where one wishes, Klue.
"That's what clones are for," snapped the replicant, acting like a shark.
"You have my apologies, bounty hunter! However, I still think she would bring a handsome amount on the Trillian market!" "She's not for sale, Bogar."
"Perhaps not yet, but––" The galactic trader backed away from the stairs. "Once they know she's here and alive, she will be."
"Over my dead body!"
"Not to worry, Jonsanna Klue. That can be arranged. Remember anywhere, anytime. We'll be seeing you! If not today, there's always tomorrow, or even yesterday."
Jonsanna stared at the crowd as the galactic trader vanished in a blend of the populace. He turned away, his eyes startled as he settled his vi
ew on a pair of Trods––Relix and Tee. "Trods..." he said to himself.
––– 36 –––
REPLICANTS
Jerolda Manchi slapped Tee on the back, watching as the ship vanished into oblivion. "Oh yeah," he said, continuing to reenact the Atlantis Two's departure. "There's nothing like riding the wave into any future! It's always good to be home again."
"Right––" answered Tee. However, Tee wasn't happy. There was a feeling of danger like a calm before the storm. He stared at the men on the staircase, holding his breath as the Beamrider sphere lifted into the air and hurtled skyward along a narrow beam of energy, but there was something more. He couldn't put his finger on it.
Two huge machines rolled through the crowd just beyond where the galactic traders engaged in conversation on the stairs. Tee was straining to hear the conversation, but the crowd's noise level was interfering with his abilities. There was just no way of eavesdropping on the group. Jerolda Manchi watched the sky one last time then wiped the grin from his face, spinning around to face Tee. He screamed and leaped out of the way. The two machines busted through the crowd on a direct course that intersected with where he stood. Suddenly, he was on his back.
"That's them––" uttered one of the machines to the other, pulling up a sagging piece of metal like a pair of pants. "Yeah, they fit the descriptions. They're the ones he wants––"
"Scoop them up?" asked the other machine in a husky voice.
"Yeah," muttered the other hunk of moving tin and scrap metal. Like bag men, the two gangster machines rolled across the ground picking up speed, stealing home as they scooped up Jerolda Manchi and Tee!
Jonsanna Klue watched the gangster machines until they had their prey then he turned around and walked away.
• • •
In deep space, aboard Kristic's spherical Beamrider starship, Travis sat in the Captain's chair, enjoining the view with the ship's motley crew of living machines. Tipon proclaimed himself captain and moved around the interior of the ship worried about everything that everyone was doing, like a little old man in a nursing home, he complained that no one could do anything right. The ship was his domain and his tread workers, including Maxie and Crusty made him crazy all the more.