Fractures: Caulborn 4

by Nicholas Olivo

  Jesus, I needed a drink.

  I created a small portal beneath a can of Pepsi in the fridge, and the drink dropped into my outstretched hand. Lazy? Yes. Convenient? Even more so.

  Okay, so I couldn’t go back and stop this event from happening. That would definitely do more damage than had already been caused. Could I use the chronometer for something else?

  The Chroniclers used these to travel back and forth through time. Unfortunately, I’d never seen how they actually did that, and there was no way I was going to just start mashing buttons on this thing. And what would I do if I could time travel? Now, there was an interesting question. Sure, there’s the obvious stuff, see who really shot J.F.K., see who built Stonehenge, maybe pop back to 1940 and grab a copy of Commander Courageous’s first appearance in “Mighty Mystery Men Comics #1.”

  Thinking of Courageous made me sigh. No, time travel was not a good thing to do. It caused way more problems than it solved. Back to the Future movies aside, even if I figured out a way to set things right now, there was no guarantee that a future me (or a past me) would be able to do it again. Sure, I might be able to figure out a way to go back in time and say, stop myself from making the promise to Megan, or maybe force myself to talk to her about it earlier, but what repercussions might that have? Herb wouldn’t be in a coma, but I’d never have gone to the Keepers, which meant that they’d still be out there, and that wouldn’t be good.

  Okay, time travel was out. Way out. But a chronometer could do more than just time travel and teleport. I Glimpsed back to the last time I’d used one and saw how I’d adjusted the tachyon field. Lowering the field had let me see possibilities in the future—how people were going to behave, where they would move, what they might say.

  I lowered the field, but nothing happened. Of course, I was sitting at my kitchen table. Not much was going on in here that was going to change. I picked up the saltshaker from the table and flung it into the air. Half a dozen spectral shakers appeared just ahead of it as it flew, each one trailing spectral grains of salt. They followed mostly the same path until they hit the floor. At that point, the specters shot off in all directions, showing the various ways the shaker might have bounced. The real shaker moved along the path taken by one of the specters, before I telekinetically snagged it and all the grains. No point in making a mess, after all.

  When I’d used the chronometer last time, I hadn’t had time to reflect about what was going on. But now I realized I felt different. My senses seemed sharper with the lower-concentrated tachyon field around me, my vision was clearer, my sense of smell seemed keener. And my body felt different. The weird thing was, I couldn’t tell why. I didn’t feel stronger or faster, but something was definitely different. I glanced at my watch and ran through some possibilities in my mind. Tachyon energy dealt with time and reality, I knew that much from Star Trek. A field of that energy surrounded me. Maybe because I was a deity with ties to time? But that didn’t seem right. When the field was weakened, it was like my powers were enhanced. At least my Glimpse was, anyway.

  I glanced at my watch again and did a double take. The time hadn’t changed. The second hand was exactly where it had been. I blinked and it started moving again.

  Holy shit. With the tachyon field reduced like this, I was able to think incredibly fast. I remembered a couple of times recently when time seemed to slow down around me. Once, when I’d been fighting draugr and Megan had nearly been impaled by a piece of park bench. Another time was when I’d Opened a portal to redirect an arrow that would’ve taken Kristin in the back. I hadn’t given those moments much thought; they’d seemed like normal adrenaline rushes. Now, though, I was starting to think that maybe I had more powers than I realized, and this little device was blocking them.

  Well, the best way to test something like that was to be scientific. I turned the tachyon field back up, to the levels that I remembered seeing when I’d fought Laplace’s demon. Those levels were higher than what I’d started out at just now, but I wanted to see the difference.

  My brain felt like it had just downshifted. I blinked and concentrated. I could still think, but that lightning fast thought process I’d had just a second ago seemed impossible. I took the last swig of my Pepsi and went to portal another one into my hand.

  Nothing happened.

  I tried again, but it was like I didn’t even have access to the extradimensional energy. It reminded me of what happened when Forculus had been initially teaching me how to use portals. Back then, I hadn’t been able to create them at all; when I’d tried, I’d accidentally ripped reality and nearly allowed some extradimensional predator into my world. Not wanting to repeat that, I dialed back the tachyon field and tried again. A Pepsi dropped into my waiting hand a moment later.

  Sonofabitch. Had the Chroniclers been controlling how much of my power I had access to? Why?

  God, I wanted to talk to Commander Courageous. If ever there was a time for an advisor, this was it. I ran my hands through my hair, suddenly very tired. I put my head down on the table and just rested for a minute. Then I gave myself a shake. Okay, I needed to do more extensive testing, and it wasn’t smart to monkey around like this alone in my apartment. I took another swig of Pepsi. Doc Ryan and Mrs. Rita had both said that my healing had changed, that my fever was behaving differently. Was that related to changes in tachyon, too?

  Only one way to find out. I portaled to HQ and found Doc conversing with Mrs. Rita. They turned as one to look at me.

  “Just the people I wanted to see,” I said. “You guys up for helping me with something?” I explained what I had in mind.

  “This sounds crazy, Corinthos,” Doc said as he popped another piece of gum into his mouth. “But nothing with you is ever sane.”

  “This thing you are describing is certainly possible, Vincent,” Mrs. Rita said. “Do you want to test it now?”

  I nodded, and she motioned for me to take a seat. Doc stepped up in front of me and began selecting tools from a tray. I fiddled with the chronometer and lowered the tachyon levels. Illusionary Doc Ryans appeared in front of me. I closed my eyes, not wanting the distraction.

  “All right, Corinthos,” Doc said, as he took my hand and turned it so my palm was up. “This will hurt, but I know you’ve had worse.” There was a sharp pain in my index finger, like a needle being jabbed into my skin. It was gone nearly as quickly as it had come. I felt Doc rubbing at the spot a second later. “Does that hurt at all?”

  “No,” I said, keeping my eyes shut.

  “His temperature is normal,” Mrs. Rita said. “No change during that.”

  “Okay,” Doc said. “Next test. Ready, Corinthos?”

  I nodded. The pain was deeper this time, like that needle had been stuck deep into my palm. I hissed but kept my eyes shut. The pain vanished a second later.

  “How’s it feel?” Doc asked.

  “I’m good,” I said. And I was.

  “No change in temperature,” Mrs. Rita said. “Open your eyes, Vincent.”

  I did. Doc was holding a four-inch long needle. I risked a glance at my fingertip and palm, where I knew I’d been stuck. No sign of injury, but there was blood on the needle’s tip.

  “Your skin closed up almost immediately, Corinthos,” Doc said. “That’s a level of healing I’ve only seen on vampires.”

  “Would it scale?” I asked. “Like, if I got stabbed or shot?”

  Mrs. Rita beckoned Doc over to the monitors, and the two of them put their heads together. After a moment she nodded. “It certainly looks that way. Going by this, Vincent, your body’s natural healing has been accelerated nearly a hundred times over.”

  I told them about what I’d done with the chronometer. “So this tachyon field was slowing down my healing and blocking my ability to create portals. Why? What purpose could that serve?”

  Doc ru
bbed his chin. “Well, have you tried shutting it off completely?”

  “I didn’t want to try that without help around,” I said.

  Doc grinned at Mrs. Rita. “Finally, the kid starts showing some smarts. Let me see the device, Corinthos.” I handed the chronometer over and showed Doc how to raise and lower the tachyon field. Once he understood, he looked at me. “Ready?”

  I nodded. Doc spun the tachyon dial all the way down to zero. The world flared around me. Thousands upon thousands of possibilities sprang into my mind at once; the light bulbs bursting, the power going out, coming back, earthquakes, volcanoes, Doc having a heart attack, Doc laughing, Doc swearing, Doc rushing to help me, Doc watching impassively. The equipment in the room might short out, might work, might go dark, might show my vitals as good, might show my vitals as bad, might show me die. Through it all, the only thing that remained constant was Mrs. Rita. I saw no possibilities for her. She was just… there.

  The possibilities vanished, and I found myself on the floor on all fours. Doc was kneeling next to me, his arm around my shoulders.

  “Can you hear me, Corinthos?” he asked.

  My ears popped as I nodded. “Yeah,” I rasped. I wiped my hand across my face, and it came away bloody. “What the hell?”

  “You started bleeding from your ears, eyes, and nose, Corinthos,” Doc said as he helped me onto a chair. “I put the tachyon back to the setting you showed me.” He shone a light in my eyes, then moved to my ears. “I’ll be damned,” he said. “It looks like you’ve already healed.”

  Mrs. Rita handed me a wet towel, and I scrubbed the blood from my face and neck. “I think that’s enough testing for me today,” I said, tossing the towel in a biohazard bag.

  “Fair enough,” Doc said. “Let’s give you a quick once over.” He spent the next fifteen minutes doing basic checks of my vitals. When he was done, he gave me a nod. “You’re all set, Corinthos. Get back to work. Meantime, I’m going to go get another pack of gum before I write up my findings on what just happened.” He left the room, and I turned to Mrs. Rita.

  “So…” I said. “I’m curious about something. When Doc turned off the tachyon field, I saw a whole bunch of possible futures. I saw light bulbs that might burn out, different ways Doc might behave, a whole ton of variable outcomes for every single thing in this room except for you. How’s that work?”

  Mrs. Rita just smiled. “Perhaps because my path in this world is fixed, Vincent.”

  “Wouldn’t that mean you know exactly how you’re going to act, every moment, of every day? That you’d never have to weigh a decision?”

  “Something like that,” she said.

  I gaped at her. “How is that even possible?”

  Mrs. Rita just grinned. “Some things, Vincent, you will need to work out on your own.”

  “How about a hint?” I asked, smiling.

  “How about no,” she said back, also smiling.

  I sighed. “Fine.” Mrs. Rita had always been an enigma. I supposed there was nothing wrong with her staying that way a while longer. I decided to change the subject. “We still need to heal Doc. I’m glad he’s off the cigs, but I don’t like letting that cancer just sit inside him.”

  Mrs. Rita nodded. “I think perhaps this is as good a time as any.”

  I blinked. “Seriously?”

  “You should not need much time, Vincent. The process is not an invasive one. I believe your healing may be some of the strongest I’ve ever encountered. I will guide you, as we discussed.”

  Doc came back in, a pack of Doublemint in his hand. Mrs. Rita and I looked at him. “What?” he asked.

  “Have a seat, Joseph. It’s time to cure your cancer.”

  Chapter 7

  A small cloning facility was recently discovered by workers excavating a site for a new strip mall outside of Helena, Washington. The incident has been handled, however the facility appears identical to those that were developed in conjunction with the aliens in Dulce, New Mexico. The facility appears to have been abandoned for some time, and only contained genetic material for one subject. This material has been included in the attachment, though it is severely degraded. There were several piles of ash, which we believe to be the decomposed remains of other clones. The Washington office awaits further orders regarding this situation.

  —From an internal Caulborn memo in the “Destroy” pile of Maxwell Robert’s inbox

  It only took a few minutes. To be honest, the whole process was rather anti-climatic. I put my hands on Doc’s forehead and sent a healing probe into him. The pulse came back and told me all his vitals, all his injuries, and registered the level of cancer in his lungs. Mrs. Rita seemed to be able to sense the same things I did, and helped me direct my healing energy. It was done less than ten minutes later.

  Doc sat up and took a deep breath. He let it out, considered, then took another one. “Haven’t been able to do that in years,” he said, smiling. “Is it gone?”

  Mrs. Rita nodded. “Nothing shows up on my magical scans, Joseph. For completeness’s sake, we should take some x-rays of your chest, but I believe your lungs are clean.”

  Doc Ryan stood and shook my hand. His voice cracked a little. “Thank you, Corinthos,” he said. “Thank you so much.” He cleared his throat. “Now then, don’t you have a city to protect or something?”

  “I do, indeed,” I said, and left HQ.

  I’d been thinking about my next step. I figured I could learn more about Sakave by visiting the Knobby Broomstick, that pub in the Undercity where the glowing wraith had been seen. I could Glimpse what had happened and then—

  “Ahem.” I turned to find Wheatson and Webb standing across from me on the street. Wheatson was the one who’d cleared his throat. He held out his hand. “My chronometer, Corinthos.”

  “Oh, sorry,” I said, pulling it out and handing it to him. “I was going to get around to returning it.”

  “Sure you were,” Wheatson said, cracking his knuckles. “Webb, I appreciate the lift, but Corinthos and I have something personal to discuss. You don’t mind, do you?”

  Webb gave me a wicked grin. “Give ’im hell, Wheatson,” he growled, and then vanished.

  I had a telekinetic shield up and a pulse of fire ready. Wheatson made a face at me. “Oh, please,” he said. “If I wanted to fight you, I’d shoot you in the back with a chronobullet. I just said that to get rid of Webb.” I relaxed, and Wheatson fell into step beside me. “So, off to do some paranormal detective work?”

  “Something like that,” I replied. “Are you tagging along?”

  “Nope,” Wheatson said. “I’m walking on the historic streets of Boston, to the end of this street at least, and then I’m going home. But if you were to ask me some questions, I might be inclined to answer them, given that you’re sort of flying without an advisor anymore.”

  I smirked. “You want Commander Courageous’s old job?”

  “Not at all. That outfit would chafe my thighs. Just the same, he and I worked out a bunch of things about his—your—powers, and if you have questions, I might be able to help.”

  “So what’s the purpose of the tachyon field that’s around me?”

  “Excellent question. It’s there to stop you from getting too much sensory input. Without it, you can see into both the past and possible futures of whatever you’re looking at. The tachyon lets you function normally.”

  “And so when you reduced the field back when we were dealing with Laplace’s demon, you were letting me see into the future.”

  “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  “Were you guys keeping a field like this around Commander Courageous, too?”

  Wheatson stopped, his eyes shining. “No, Vincent, we weren’t. We weren’t able to anymore.”

  I let that sink in. “Tha
t would imply that I—well, future me—had somehow learned to control tachyon and keep the Chroniclers from encasing me in it.”

  “It would imply that, wouldn’t it?” Wheatson said, picking at the dirt under his fingernails. “I’d hypothesize that if you were to, oh, I don’t know… maybe just visualize manipulating tachyon—maybe imagine doing what you did when you borrowed my chronometer—you might be able to do some interesting things.” He glanced around. “You know, Corinthos, I can’t help but notice we’re at the end of the street. I do need to be getting back. When you see Webb again, tell him I hit you good and hard.”

  With that, he pressed the face of his chronometer and vanished.

  I just stood there on the street for a moment, my mind racing. I was a deity with ties to time. Tachyon were particles that moved in four dimensions at once, the fourth one being time. That meant, theoretically, I would have an ability to control them. Which meant it may be possible for me to alter the amount of tachyon around me at will, thus enabling me to get an insight into what was coming. I’d need to play with that when I had some time. For now, I needed to get to that pub in the Undercity.

  The Knobby Broomstick is one of the oldest bars in the Undercity. It was founded two hundred years ago by a pair of sisters named Millie and Esther. Millie passed away last year, but Esther still runs the place. She was behind the bar as I walked in, wearing a green dress that was probably fashionable a hundred years ago. “Vinnie Corinthos!” she shouted over the din of the patrons. “It’s been too long, son. Come on in, have a glass on the house.”

  I pulled out my wallet anyway. “Not necessary, Esther,” I said.

  Her gray braid swung back and forth as she shook her head at me. “Don’t you be puttin’ coin on me bar, Vinnie Corinthos. I might have to whack you with me shillelagh. After all you’ve done for us, the least I can do is feed you and give you a Pepsi.”