by Bob Mayer
“Aye, aye, sir.” The ship’s executive officer relayed the order through his headset.
Roland was tense, the same feeling he remembered from being under mortar attack. Not knowing where the thing that kills you is coming from; he preferred to face death face-to-face. According to the download, the Reuben James was struck just past the bow by a single torpedo that detonated the forward magazine, blasting apart the front half of the ship, including the bridge where they were standing. No one survived from this part of the ship. He glanced at the clock.
0543
Seven minutes. At the rate the Reuben James was closing on the target, the destroyer should beat the clock. But Roland couldn’t relax.
“Depth charges armed and ready,” the executive officer relayed to Captain Edwards.
“Two hundred yards to contact. It’s close to the surface, sir.”
Edwards swung a large pair of binoculars up, trying to see ahead in the dark. “Anything from the lookouts?”
“Negative,” the executive officer relayed.
“Standard dispersion on the charges,” Edwards ordered, “and set for minimum depth. Increase to flank speed. We need to get the hell out of there before they go off.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” The XO relayed the orders.
“One hundred yards,” the sonar man announced.
The hatch on the right side of the bridge swung open. A lookout stuck his head in. “Sir!”
“What is it?” Edwards turned to face him.
“There’s something weird directly ahead on the surface. Some mass of, I don’t know what.”
“A submarine?”
“Uh, well, I don’t know what it is.”
Edwards brought his binoculars up. “What the—“ he muttered.
“Fifty yards,” the sonar man announced.
“Searchlights on!” Edwards yelled.
One of the bridge crew hit a switch and powerful searchlights bathed the bow and the sea directly ahead of the Reuben James in light.
“Oh, my God,” Edwards muttered.
Roland and Jager pressed forward, ignored for the moment.
It didn’t take binoculars to see what had caused the lookout and Edwards’ reaction. The sea was writhing with a mass of what looked like massive snakes, but were actually tentacles. The bodies of the kraken were twenty to thirty feet long, their red, ropy tentacles two to three times that length.
“There’s a sub out there,” the XO called out. “Under those things. ”
“Hard port,” Edwards ordered. “I want--
He didn’t finish as the glass at the front of the bridge shattered inward and a tentacle shot through, the length covers in suckers, the tip an open mouth with sharp teeth, snapping, searching for a target. It found one as it darted forward, hitting the helmsman in the chest. The teeth crunched down on his rib cage and the kraken pulled.
The helmsman was snatched off the bridge.
Wittenberg, Germany, 31 October 1517 A.D.
Scout looked at the body for several moments. It crumbled in on itself, turning to dust, until there was nothing to indicate there had been a person.
She took a deep breath. Another. Walked to one of the pews and sat down. She remembered Nada had told her that you never got used to killing.
“This is not a game,” she said out loud, as much to herself as the unknown woman.
Scout was startled when the old woman’s voice was just to her left in the aisle since she hadn’t heard her approach.
“No, it is not a game.” The woman was dressed in a black robe and carried a rod in the crook of her elbow.
“Lachesis,” Scout said.
“And you are the one called Scout, although that is not your true name.”
“What’s my true name?”
“Do not worry about the entity you just dispatched,” Lachesis said.
“’Entity’? Was it his time? His fate?”
“His kind are outside of our purview,” Lachesis said.
“What is his kind?”
Lachesis pulled back her hood, revealing thin gray hair and a face lined with age. Her eyes were pure white. “That is not for me to tell you.”
“Of course not,” Scout said. “Everyone has to keep their secrets.”
“You have one or two,” Lachesis said.
“Can you fill me in on them?” Scout asked .
“It bothers you to kill?” Lachesis asked.
“Of course.”
“But it would have killed you. You had no choice.”
“There’s always a choice.”
“Ah!” Lachesis tapped her rod on the top of the pew. “Do you truly believe that? Remember who you are speaking to.”
Scout sat back, a little sick to the stomach. “You’re as bad as Pandora. All questions, no answers. The riddles of the universe. Why did you interfere? He would have killed me the moment I arrived if you hadn’t slowed time.”
“Then there would have been no choice on your part,” Lachesis said. “I wanted to see what you would do.”
“And if he’d killed me in the ‘fair fight’?” Scout was tired of the verbal sparring. She stood. “I’ve got things to do.”
“Martin Luther is safe,” Lachesis said. “You killed the entity sent to kill him.”
“Not drinking your Kool-Aid,” Scout said. “If my mission is over, why am I still here?”
“I wanted to have a chat. Another reason to keep it from ambushing you.” Lachesis entered the pew and sat next to Scout. “My knees hurt when I stand too long, especially on a stone floor.”
Scout automatically sat down.
“We registered what you did in Afghanistan,” Lachesis said. “Very interesting. And then in Chicago.”
“You sure Luther is safe?” Scout asked. “He posts the ninety-five things of his on the door this morning?”
“It already happened for you and your timeline,” Lachesis said. “It is as it is.”
Scout didn’t have a response for that.
“And Lara,” Lachesis said. “Very intriguing.”
“What about Lara?” Scout asked.
“She succeeded, yet she failed.”
“English, please,” Scout said. “Succeeded at what and failed at what?”
“She helped you escape Chicago,” Lachesis said, “but she couldn’t go through the door.”
“What door?”
“The door to her origins.”
Scout sighed. “I don’t even know why I ask. ”
Lachesis pointed at a coffer at the end of the pew. “’As soon as the coin in the coffer rings, the soul from purgatory springs’ ,” she recited. “Quite cute. Simple. Simple appeals to most people. Simple answers to the complexities of life. It implies no consequences to actions if one has the means to pay their way out of the consequences. Quite naïve.”
“Right,” Scout said. “What do you want to chat about? The complexities of life? The vagaries of the variables?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Lachesis said. “When you return from your missions, you see things outside of the tunnel of time, don’t you?”
“Possibilities,” Scout said. “What could have been if we’d failed in our missions.”
“Why do you think they are only possibilities?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “What if they are realities, other timelines, and the reason you see them is because out of the infinite number of possible timelines, they are the closest based on the event your mission went to and the branch points in an infinite multiverse?”
Scout considered that. “Okay. And?”
“How do you think the Shadow picks these bubbles?”
“Important events,” Scout said.
“True. But, perhaps it only sees the closest timelines to the bubble point?”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I want to show you some things. You want answers, now I will give you some.” Lachesis reached over and placed her wrinkled hand on top of Scout’s. The Fate’s skin was coo
l. “Come with me.”
Everything went dark.
The Possibility Palace
Moms was squeezing a ball, twenty times one hand, then switching it to the other. She had a thick book open in her lap, but her gaze was unfocused, her mind not on the page
The door to the room opened and Dane came in with Sin Fen besides him.
Sin Fen was a woman of mystery. Genetically she was a mixture of Oriental and European, an exotic beauty who turned heads wherever she went. Her age was impossible to guess; anywhere from an old thirties to a young sixties. Of more interest to Moms, and Dane, was her ability with the Sight. She was descended from the long line of Defenders who’d held fast on Atlantis until it was overwhelmed ten thousand years ago by the Shadow. She and Dane had some sort of relationship, the nature of which wasn’t clear to any of the others. Sin Fen was rarely around and Moms suspected that she traveled to the Space Between, meeting with Amelia Earhart, and even further, most likely to other timelines to gather intelligence.
Moms acknowledged them with a nod.
“How are you feeling?” Dane asked.
Sin Fen knelt next to Moms’ extended leg and put her hands lightly on the bandage.
“I’m breathing,” Moms said.
“What are you reading?” Sin Fen asked.
Moms briefly lifted the book, exposing the title: The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind . “Eagle suggested it.”
“An intriguing book,” Dane said.
“Do you buy into his theories?” Moms asked .
Sin Fen nodded. “I think there’s a lot of validity in it.” She had her eyes closed, her hands going around the circumference of Moms’ leg, and then she stood. “It is healing.”
“Was Doc healing?” Moms asked. “You told him he was. He believed otherwise.”
“Doc was done with this world,” Sin Fen said. “Without the spirit, one cannot heal.”
“Was he healing?”
“He was holding his own,” Sin Fen said. “But his cells were damaged by his exposure in Pakistan. Some of them irreparably.”
“I’m not getting a straight answer,” Moms said.
“I can’t give you one,” Sin Fen said. “We did the best we could. There are things outside of our control.”
“Like the Fates?” Moms asked.
Sin Fen nodded. “They played a large role in your last mission. If Lachesis determines that the measure of one’s life has been fulfilled, then one cannot stop Atropos from cutting the thread of life.”
“Who are they?” Moms asked.
“We don’t know,” Sin Fen said. “Perhaps the Ones Before. Perhaps they come from another timeline.”
“So when our number is up, it’s up?” Moms wasn’t buying it. “No free will?”
“Doc had free will,” Sin Fen said. “He made the choice that ended his life. Death is the most certain thing in everyone’s life. In mythology, even the gods could not challenge the Fates.”
“So the Fates are more powerful than gods?” Moms asked.
Sin Fen shook her head. “No. Think of them as acting parallel to gods.”
“And who are the gods?” Moms asked. “We met the Fates. They’re real. Are gods real? We’ve met Pandora, but she said she’s not a god.”
“She’s not,” Sin Fen confirmed. “She’s human.”
“Are there gods?” Moms asked.
“I don’t know,” Sin Fen said. She glanced over at Dane, then grabbed a chair. “You’re asking questions that humans have been pondering ever since certain synapses made connections in our brains and we started wondering—is there something more? What are those bright things in the sky at night? Why does the sun come up every morning? Why? Why? And I know as much as you do. Seriously. I’m not hiding anything from you. Neither is Dane. We don’t know who the Shadow is. Or the Fates. Or The Ones Before.”
Sin Fen indicated the book. “Julian Jaynes says the gods were in our own brains when humans first started becoming conscious. Voices in our heads directing us. For example, he says that at the time of Iliad , those people fought because the gods in their heads directed them to, not because they chose to freely.”
“Do you believe that?” Moms asked.
Sin Fen considered the question. “The Iliad is said to come from around the 8th Century BC. Atlantis was long before that and we were conscious then. Did we slide back after Atlantis was destroyed? Or were the people of Atlantis different from those outside of it? I suspect the latter. Our lineage—“ she indicated herself, Dane and Moms—“is somewhat different. We all have a taste, more or less, of Atlantis genes in us.”
“The Sight?”
“The Sight is part of it,” Sin Fen said. “Our ancestors were the Oracles, the Seers, the people others came to for visions.”
“And now?” Moms asked. “Do people have true consciousness?”
“It’s one of the reasons we give you the Choice before you join the team,” Sin Fen said. “Free will.”
“Isn’t that Choice pre-determined by everything we went through before?” Moms asked.
“You should concentrate on healing,” Dane said.
“Lara heard a voice from the Pit,” Moms said. “It said ‘here there be monsters’. Any idea what that means?”
“The Shadow uses monsters,” Sin Fen said. “Many human legends of monsters stem from real creatures that Shadow has fashioned. But I can tell you this: those monsters are real and are made using science. The Shadow is far more advanced in terms of manipulating gene codes. Kraken, Grendels, Yeti and the like are the result of splicing creatures that evolved naturally.”
“Why don’t the Fates just stop the Shadow?” Moms asked.
“I don’t know,” Sin Fen said. “But I’m working hard to find out.”
“Work harder,” Moms said. “Before we lose any more people.”
Sin Fen stood. “Be careful of using the pills. They can cause problems. ”
New York City
“Cleopatra’s Needle,” Angus said. “I wager she was a wild lass.”
Edith was surprised Angus recognized the obelisk, her personal touchstone for time in Central Park.
“There’s one in London, ya know?”
“Yes.”
Angus glanced at her. “And ya know the entire history, don’t ya?”
“Yes.”
“And you be aching to tell it to me.” He held up a hand. “Spare me, please.” He looked around darkened Central Park. “Isn’t it supposed to be dangerous here? Death Wish and all that? Nefarious fellows lurking everywhere?”
“It’s safe now,” Edith said.
“Speaking of safe,” Angus said, “do you trust that woman? Sin Fen?”
“I don’t know her that well,” Edith said. “But Dane trusts her.”
“She lied to me,” Angus said.
“About what?”
“About my Choice,” Angus said.
Edith turned toward him. “What do you mean?”
Angus shrugged. “I don’t know exactly, but I’m not some wee child to be told tales and I could tell she was telling me a tale. My Choice wasn’t a choice, that’s what I know. She read me and boxed me in to making the decision she wanted.”
“I don’t—“ Edith began, but then her phone rang. She pulled it out and glanced at the screen. “We’re heading downtown.”
“Orders?”
“Orders.”
“Let’s be going then. Will we be taking the famed New York underground?”
“We’ll take a taxi.”
“Ah, just as terrifying.”
The Missions Phase III
ZERO DAY; ZERO YEAR
Who the hell was Lara? Ivar wondered. How was she in the middle of all of this? Why was Legion after her even before she was with the Time Patrol?
Before he could mentally explore that murky path any further, Victor hit him in the chest, a quick jab, and Ivar doubled over, struggling to breath.
“It will take a
round forty-five seconds before your lungs will work properly,” Victor said. “You will not die.”
Ivar tried to gasp, but couldn’t.
“I need to know who you are. Who you work for. Why you are here. In interrogation training they are very adamant that one should ask but a single question at a time. More than that confuses the subject. But I have been very patient with you, Mister Ivar. I need answers. You are hiding something very important from me.”
Ivar finally was able to regain control of his diaphragm. He drew in a deep breath. “What year is it?”
For the first time, Victor showed some surprise. “Excuse me?”
“What year is it?”
Victor pointed at one of the surveillance displays. There was a time-date stamp in the upper right corner.
“Oh my God!” Ivar exclaimed as he read it. “We’re in the present. Today is Zero Day. I didn’t travel back.” He tried to process this startling revelation. “That means nothing has happened yet. ”
“Ah,” Victor said. “You are a time traveler?” He didn’t seem surprised.
“What? Uh, no. I’m—“ Ivar fumbled for what to say.
“Being a time traveler is one of the worst cover stories I have ever heard,” Victor said. He reached out and grabbed Ivar’s shoulder, the other one, and squeezed. This time he held it for several seconds.
Ivar writhed under his grip, until Victor finally let go.
“I want some truths,” Victor said.
“You won’t believe me,” Ivar said.
“So you are going to try to say you are a time traveler?” Victor cocked his head. “It is a terrible cover story, so bad, in fact, that it holds the possibility of some truth. There are rumors. That the Russians and the Americans have meddled in things. But there are always rumors of strange things in our world. Of course, what happened in the Negev would have been dismissed as impossible except it happened. We have the video. I’ve seen it. So I know the impossible happened. But you say you did not travel back in time. Which means you are from now? This makes little sense.”
“I don’t understand it either,” Ivar admitted, “but you have to believe me when I tell you I’m here to make sure our timeline is protected.”
Victor grabbed Ivar’s left elbow and squeezed.
“Frak!” Ivar screamed as Victor let go. “This bull is getting old. I lie, you hurt me. I tell you the truth, you hurt me. I got nowhere to go from that.” Ivar closed his eyes, regrouping. “Entebbe. The Fourth of July. 1976.”