Frozen Fire
Wendy L. Koenig
Published: 2017
ISBN: 978-1-62210-446-8
Published by Blue Swan Publishing. Copyright © 2017, Wendy L. Koenig.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
Manufactured in the USA
Email [email protected] with questions, or inquiries about Blue Swan Publishing or Ten West Publishing.
Blurb
Telepathic seventeen-year-old Denefe Xia and her twin sister, Kaleen, may not have had any other family, but they always had each other. In a natural disaster, Denefe is sucked into the past by a wormhole where she discovers she has a hidden triplet, Torenz, who was raised by parents she thought had died when she was a child. Through a telepathic connection with the future, she learns that her only way home is degrading and will soon trap her in the past forever if she doesn't take action. The trouble is, Torenz won't let her near it.
Dedication
My many thanks to those of my writers’ group and Barb, my beta reader, both of whom saw this manuscript several times as I worked out the bugs.
Chapter 1
Business as usual
Torenz propped his feet on a tiny desk and leaned back in his chair, the springs in the old metal frame squawking in complaint. His fingers were laced behind his head and his eyes were closed. In his mind, he listened to the thoughts of a man thousands of miles away and nearly 1,940 years into the future.
“Twenty-seven equals D. L is…Y.”
The man in the future, a telepath planted among the Allied coders of World War II, paused in his thoughts, so Torenz scribbled what he’d heard onto the yellowed notepad on his lap. The man began writing code again.
“Seven not procee—” The voice faded.
Torenz shoved his feet against the desk and rolled his chair across the dingy room, close to the giant violet wormhole that nearly covered one wall. The other telepath was weak, and the anomaly was damaged, getting worse every day. Proximity helped. As he closed on it, his skin tingles increased to the point they became painful. The smell of ozone stung his nose, making him want to sneeze.
The telepathic connection strengthened with the future again. “—by alternate even number…A. The Nazis will never break that one on their own.”
Sneering, Torenz wrote the last bit of code in his notebook. The Allied commanders all foolishly believed that, somehow, the Nazis had managed to break every code they’d ever written.
It wasn’t the Nazis.
It had always been him and his telepathic contacts stealing the code right out from under the Allied noses. He’d send it to his boss in the far future, who in turn would send it back through time to the Nazi war command.
He had other contacts in WWII too. Officials were still trying to figure out if John Cairncross was the fifth of the famous Cambridge Five spies. They couldn’t make a solid connection between him and the Soviets. The truth—Cairncross was one of Torenz’s.
No one believed in telepaths.
Even if they did, they’d never catch Torenz where he hid.
With a deep sigh at the idiocy of men, he cut the connection between himself and the coder and rolled back to his desk, lessening the effect the wormhole created on his skin.
He reached again into the future with his mind, but much further than World War II. It only took a split second to find the telepath in his employer’s office and form the link between 1 AD and the end of the 21st Century.
Chapter 2
A good day spoiled
In the 21st Century, jagged spears of indigo and violet snapped from the far end of the GlobeX lab where a massive wormhole dominated a brightly lit room—a giant silver whirlpool tipped on end. The closer Denefe came to the rift in time, the more the rift spiders—skin pricks from the collision of the Then and the Now—tingled under her skin. She felt as if she held the whole universe against her body.
The other GlobeX resident telepath, her boyfriend, Ardense, gave her a deep smile. His chocolate-colored hair was tousled and dark circles underscored his haggard brown eyes. It must have been a long twelve hours. Tall and lean, he winked from over the small knot of people changing shifts.
She hesitated and then returned his smile. Motioning toward the silver rift with its lightshow, she asked, “How long has it been throwing these sparks?”
“For a couple of hours now. It’s been fun collecting reports. Staphershire hasn’t checked in yet. I’ve been trying to reach him, but…” He shrugged. “It’s been seven hours.”
He unpinned the silver “On-duty Telepath” badge and then handed it to her.
Denefe shook her head. “I sure hope he hasn’t done anything stupid. Again.”
Reflections of the rift’s sparks strobed across the silver of the badge in a purple and blue cloudburst. She traced her thumb over the three rippled circles etched below the word “Telepath.” At seventeen, she was one of the leading telepaths with GlobeX. Yet, the emblem didn’t soothe her anymore. They reminded her of how most people only saw her as a telepath. As if that was the core of her existence.
She jerked off her jacket and then tossed it onto an open desk. It was ridiculous to wear a uniform when there were no higher-ups present. Pinning the badge to her shirt, she jutted her chin toward the colorful offshoots from the wormhole. “They bring on any spikes?”
Though gravelly from exhaustion, Ardense’s voice was tense when he answered, “A few small ones, but nothing dangerous this time.”
Denefe pressed her lips thin. It was only a matter of time before another big one hit. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be one of the sidewinders that snatched up people across the globe. “Okay then. Time for me to get to work. And time for you to sleep away the day.”
His telepathic voice filled her mind. “I’ll be glad when they send someone for the third shift.” He gave her severe ponytail a tug, sending her long, white hair cascading around her face. As he exited the room, tucking her hair clip into his pocket, he turned back to her and grinned. “See you in twelve hours.”
He rounded the corner and was gone.
Her team settled into their stations, and Denefe faced them, opening her mind to read their non-telepathic thoughts. She sent to them, “Sound check. How’s everyone doing today?”
They all answered at once.
“Fine.”
“Good.”
“Had better. My wife wants a divorce.” Mik was her chief engineer. He mapped all the anomalies, as the scientific types liked to call the wormholes, and spikes that originated in that area. He was the oldest person on the station, nearing forty. Lately, Denefe had heard his deep, booming laugh coming from someone else’s quarters late at night.
She scrutinized him. He didn’t particularly look upset, but the laugh wrinkles around his eyes weren’t as pronounced as usual. His light brown hair was combed a bit more neatly too. Not his usual devil-may-care style. “I’m sorry, Mik. More time for your projects, though, right? You feel up to this? Ready to go?”
In answer, he nodded with a determined smile.
She rubbed her hands together, and said aloud, “All right. What have we got?”
Charisse, her primary computer analyst engineer, or CAE, said, “Picked up a few spikes in the main channel last night. Nothing happened, though. Alerted the Primar
y Hub at 0247 hours, and the BaBy links—excuse me—the Brazil Base links at 0249 hours. No activity since.”
Mik spoke up. “Current readouts?”
“All dead center to the fourteenth degree.”
Denefe nodded. “Keep a sharp eye. Is there anything else?”
As one, her team shook their heads.
“No? All right, then. Let’s find our missing boy.”
Charisse entered the sequence to monitor the rift and opened a link to Staphershire’s time, which she passed off to a secondary CAE. She looked up at Denefe and smiled. “Secondary now has monitoring of all perimeter airtime. Main unit locked onto link with Brazil Base Oh-four. Currently monitoring for spikes. You may proceed.”
Denefe wandered down the stairs from the platform through the center of the room. As she came closer to the sparking rift, a telepathic vibration became audible to her, something akin to air blowing softly across the top of a bottle. Soft buzzes and pops came from the lightning-like spears of indigo and violet.
She walked past the rift to stare out the window at the canopy of her rainforest. The multiple shades of greens blended together below to give her the sense of a rolling sea. A low cloud shrouded the tips of the mountains in the distance, making them look like islands. Her body ached to go for a run today, and her mind craved the quiet it would afford her. Rainy season would be there soon. She should enjoy the outdoors as much as she could.
Behind her, Mik said, “Denefe, we’re ready for you.”
She faced the room, already focusing on Staphershire’s personality, tracing what she knew of it all the way through the wormhole and back to the real person and into his mind. Not for the first time did she think it was like following a road through a tunnel. The way was a clear-cut path.
“Starry Boy, you there?”
Silence.
Chapter 3
Sidewinder
Denefe closed her eyes from the distractions in the room—sparks from the wormhole popping, feet shifting, fingers tapping on keys, even the breathing of her teammates. She strengthened her telepathic link to the past and called again, “Staphershire, answer me.”
“Where has everyone been?”
He sounded too contrite, too…nice. That wasn’t the Starry she knew. “Why did you miss roll call?”
“I didn’t. I thought you did. Maybe the telepath wasn’t strong enough.”
“What were you doing?” Denefe opened her eyes and paced in front of the window. Outside, the rolling green ocean beckoned, speckled with violet and indigo reflections. She tightly pressed her lips together. Why was he stalling?
“Doing? Nothing.”
Nothing? Not a chance. “I repeat the question. What were you doing?” Bright violet flashed against the window in response to a large mass of sparks behind her.
From across the platform, Charisse interrupted. “We’ve got a spike.”
Denefe turned toward the room to watch her team. She wasn’t worried, though. Her engineers would warn her if the spike caused any problems. It was the main reason they were there. They busied in the background, behind her telepathic conversation, diving into their individual tasks, keys tapping.
“Initial link to BaBy Oh-four solid,” the secondary CAE added.
Staphershire said to Denefe, his “voice” sullen, “You know where I am. The Roman invasion was the single most decadent era in our world’s history.”
Denefe frowned. This whole tantrum of his was getting on her nerves. Like a parent of a misbehaving toddler, she forced an even calmness into her telepathic voice. If Starry had screwed up anything…
“We have the Temporal Accord for a reason. What were you doing? You start messing around and you’ll screw up something in the timeline. Am I clear on this?” The mass of violet and blue spikes built into what looked like a huge thundercloud.
Mik punched up a grid on his keyboard. “Got the spike. It’s a big one.”
“I’ll be good.”
“You’d better be.” She rubbed her temples. What was she going to put in her report? Experience had shown GlobeX that three strikes were too many excuses for some time researchers. After one mistake, like Starry’s, the main office got trigger fingers. If he even looked at someone sideways, they’d pull him out of the program so fast he wouldn’t know what time zone he landed in. “I’ll downplay this as much as possible, but it will have to be reported this time. You’re a good man and right for the job. Just stay out of trouble.”
The rift spiders sharpened on her skin, and she snapped her head up to warn her crew even as she heard the secondary CAE say, “Showing a few transverse lines. We’ll have to cut the link.”
Denefe nodded. “Starry, my friend, gonna shut down for a minute. Major spike coming. Clear the area, but don’t go too far. I still need your report.” She cut the connection to him and nodded to Charisse. “Clear.”
The woman tapped out commands on her keyboard and shifted the graph on her computer to include all mapped time.
“There she blows.” Mik’s voice underplayed a second hum that was now audible. The vibrations filled the room for a full five seconds. After they cut off, only the original telepathic rift spiders were left, biting Denefe’s skin. The sparks were gone, leaving the wormhole as solid silver.
“Did we get it? The boys at Primary Hub would like a new spike to map.” She walked to Mik’s station.
He shook his head, pointing at the three-dimensional diagram on his computer. It showed the original rift in bright blue and the second wormhole in red, with one end clenched around the first like a snake. It stretched diagonally away, sketchy and wildly sporadic. “Sidewinder. It’ll take me half a tic to figure out where it hit. You should be safe to go back in, though. If you make it short…” As his attention focused, his voice faded.
Denefe turned to Charisse and nodded.
Once the connection was re-established, Denefe said, “Staphershire?” Hearing no answer, she tried again. “Starry, you there? Answer me.”
Mik’s voice broke in, horror laced through it. “Our sidewinder hit BaBy Oh-four.”
Denefe held Mik’s gaze while she called Staphershire again. When she received no response, she shook her head. While Mik informed Port—the GlobeX authority on station—she kept trying to reach anyone at the BaBy Oh-four facility.
Within minutes, Ardense showed up at the door, rubbing his eyes and yawning. On his heels came Port, charging across the room like a bull released from a chute.
She put up her hand to halt him and shook her head. “No. Absolutely not. He just got off duty. He can’t go. You’ll have to go alone.”
Port stabbed his finger at her. “He’s not going. You are. He’s covering your shift. If you don’t like it, you can complain to the chiefs when we get back. Now, get in costume.” He pivoted on his heel and marched out of the room.
“Oh, I intend to complain about a lot of things.” She snatched up her jacket and left the room for her quarters. It was no secret she and Port didn’t get along. Lately, he’d been baiting her at every turn. Really, how long were they expected to operate with only two telepaths? Out of all the people in the world, was it so hard to find someone telepathically strong enough to handle the station?
Denefe rushed to her quarters. Her complaint would have to be after her return from 116 AD. Checking the time, she found it would still be a few more hours before her twin, Kaleen, woke up where she was stationed. She really needed to blow off some steam, and her sister was usually more than happy to listen. Especially when it came to Port. She hated him as much as Denefe did. Actually, Kaleen hated everyone who represented GlobeX.
Denefe pulled on the traditional flowing white stola and then laced up her sandals. She coiled her hair on top of her head before she stood in front of a mirror to adjust a shawl-like palla to cover her white locks. No need to give herself away. Her tanned skin and brown eyes would almost blend in with the local people. She went back to the control ro
om to wait.
Ardense and Mik were studying the charts when she entered. Ardense looked up at her, pursed his lips, and nodded. She smiled at his approval, but the familiar unease filled her. It had started the moment he’d said he loved her and floated to the surface whenever he acted proprietary or came close to saying those words again. Did he love her, her abilities, or her looks? Would she always feel that way?
Port came up behind her, and she turned to see he’d chosen the typical middle-class toga. He said nothing, but jabbed his thumb toward the wormhole. Time to go.
Denefe followed him down the stairs and then stepped into the time rift. Just as she was snatched away, Ardense gave Denefe a nod. “I’ll listen for you. Good luck.”
Chapter 4
Starry pursuit
Denefe had forgotten how much she hated time travel. It felt like being sucked into a giant vacuum cleaner. It twisted and pinched her body in ways and places that couldn’t normally be reached. Her stomach pitched at the wild motion, and she struggled to hold onto her Eggs Benedict, regretting the vanity of her breakfast. Just as bile rushed to her mouth, burning her throat on its way, the rift spit them into Egypt, 116 AD of the Roman Empire.
They were in a wing, or ala, off the atrium of a house that GlobeX had authorized the first posted telepath to build. Sucking in deep, shaky drafts of air, she moved aside the ornate wall hanging that hid the wormhole.
The shallow pool called an impuluvium—if Denefe remembered the name correctly—directly in front of them had no central support columns to hold up the roof. That was unknown technology in that day and age. Across the water from where she and Port stood, sat a long, white reclining bed. It didn’t look used, so she could only assume it was placed there for a symbolic meaning, as many things were in that era. Beside it sat a bust of Staphershire.
Being good. Indeed!
The back of the atrium opened into another open-roofed room. Curtains were drawn back on either side of the doorway. Seeing the lush garden inside, she decided that would be the peristylium.
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