Death of Time (SpaceFed StarShips Series Book 4) 2nd Edition.: A thrilling, psychological, Mystery and Suspense, sci-fi detective thriller. (SpaceFed StarShips Trilogy)

by Gerry A. Saunders

  “I just need a pick-me-up.”

  “Pull the other one,” she snapped.

  “Charlie. You’re getting paranoid.”

  “I’m not a fool Micky. I can see you’re rapidly getting older, almost by the minute.”

  “Change the subject,” he snapped back. Then wished he had kept his mouth shut as he saw tears in her eyes.

  He needed to be more careful, he realised. He knew Charlie’s emotions were all over the place at the moment, not just because of the baby, but also because of the stress they were under.

  “I’m so sorry Charlie. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that,” he gently told her.

  “I know Micky…It’s just, I love you so much,” she replied.

  “Can we go back to the hotel after you’ve seen the doctor?” she asked, deliberately changing the subject?”

  “Absolutely,” he agreed. “Don’t forget that we need to check over the plans of the test site before we go tomorrow.”

  They finished the rest of their meal quietly, both deep in thought.

  By this time, Micky had changed his mind and was beginning to feel that Charlie’s emotional level had risen because of the apprehension she felt about his condition, more than anything else.

  They left, paying the waitress the exact amount as they went out, having already decided not to leave her a tip.

  Chris was waiting patiently by the Limo, and as they approached asked Micky if they had a good meal.

  “Yes, the food was reasonable, not so sure about the waitress, though.”

  “Oh yeah. I’ve heard people say that she takes giggling to a new level.”

  “Absolutely, Chris,” Charlie agreed, laughing as she said it.

  “Cedrick’s given me directions to get you to a local doctor Micky. Nothing serious I hope?”

  “No Chris, just something I need to have checked, that’s all.”

  “Hop in then, we’ll be there in a jiffy. Cedrick said to tell you he’s already wired the fee. The doctor will be waiting to see you as soon as you arrive.”

  “OK, let’s go,” Micky ordered.

  Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the medical centre, which was housed in a small building.

  “I won’t be long Chris,” Micky said as he started getting out.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” Charlie snapped. “I’m coming too.”

  He felt her emotional level rising. He could, he supposed, just ‘nudge’ her to stay. But, he acknowledged to himself, she had a right to know a little more of what was happening to him.

  “OK, if you must,” he agreed as she followed him in.

  “I’m Micky Sanderson, I have an appointment,” he informed the receptionist.

  “Ah, yes Mr Sanderson. One moment, please sir,” she replied, then spoke to someone on her intercom.

  “Doctor Henning will see you now. Room four, down the corridor, and to your left Mr Sanderson.”

  “Thank you."

  They found the room. The door was half open, and they could see a smart young man in a white coat sitting behind a desk.

  “Come in,” he said, standing to greet them. He looked at them both, then studied Micky with interest.

  “I’m Doctor Henning. Please take a seat, both of you."

  Then speaking into his intercom, said, “Jan. Blood test, urgently, please.”

  Micky quickly scanned the office, checking that all was as it seemed, then sighed with relief. Everything was normal.

  “As I said I’m Doctor Henning,” he said, appearing to repeat himself. But Micky sensed that he was just trying to relax them.

  Just then, his nurse Jan entered. Looked at Micky and ordered, “Sleeve up please sir.”

  He did as he was told, watching Doctor Henning adding ticks beside checkboxes on a form.

  “There, that didn’t hurt sir,” she said, placing a small plaster over the hole that the syringe’s needle had made.

  “Didn’t feel a thing,” he joked.

  Jan, holding the syringe that was now full of Micky’s blood, took the form from the doctor and studied it quickly. “Ten minutes Tom,” she confirmed and left, closing the door behind her.

  “I’d like to check a couple of things now Mr Sanderson. Stand up, please.”

  Henning then checked Micky’s eyes, ears and, in particular, his skin.

  “OK, you can sit down now.”

  “That bad?”

  “Not necessarily. I’ve had some information from your Mr Cedrick, but first you’d better tell me your problem in your own words.”

  Micky suddenly sensed that Henning already had a theory.

  “He told me he’s got some sort of ageing condition,” Charlie interjected.

  “Yes, doctor. It does seem to be something like that,” Micky confirmed, wishing Charlie would keep quiet.

  “What exactly do you mean? Tell me about it.”

  “Well, my memory only goes back five years. I don’t have any recollection of anything about me, or of what happened to me before that time. There are no records of my existence before that time either. Cedrick can verify this.

  But I was fine until about two months ago when I first noticed that I had started ageing. Since then I’ve seen that the ageing process is speeding up. I’m visibly ageing more each day.”

  “Yes, Micky’s changed quite a lot since I first met him in London. And that was less than two weeks ago,” Charlie added, feeling really depressed the more she thought about it.

  “I assume your energy levels have dropped as well?”

  “Yes, very much so.”

  “And your mental ability?”

  That question stunned Micky. ‘Did this Doctor Henning know more about him than he should?’ he wondered.

  He quickly scanned the Doctor but found that his emotional flavour was stable. He instantly knew Henning was going to be helpful.

  “It’s all right. Cedrick told me about your abilities in the strictest confidence,” the doctor quietly said to Micky, seeing the conflicting emotions that had fleetingly passed over Micky’s face.

  “Yes. But I sense that you know the answer already, doctor?”

  “Well, I won’t know for sure until I have your blood test results in a few minutes.”

  “But you do have a theory doctor, don’t you?” Charlie asked.

  “Sort of.”

  “Well, can you tell us what it is, doctor?”

  “Very well,” he replied then hesitated briefly. “You’re not alone with this problem, Mr Sanderson.”

  “Well, that’s good to know in one way, isn’t it?” Charlie asked.

  “Not really Miss. This means that there are now two people with Mr Sanderson’s symptoms.”

  “I’m not going to like this doctor, am I?” Micky asked, feeling very anxious.

  “That depends on you Mr Sanderson,” he said pausing again.

  “Let me explain. Two weeks ago, a man came to see me. Strangely enough, the man came in with exactly the same problem as you.

  What is even stranger is that he looked very similar to you, Mr Sanderson,” the doctor added, looking curiously at Micky.

  “I gave him some tablets to try to help him in the short term.

  “Yes,” he said, seeing Micky about to ask him. “I’ll give some to you, don’t worry.”

  “And?” Micky asked.

  “We took a blood test from him. The same as we’re doing for you.

  However. He had left before I received the results.”

  “And they were?”

  Chapter 27.

  Axon.

  Hank, or his real name, Axon, was dressing the bullet wound on his arm. As he worked on it, he could still visualize that woman emptying her weapon at him.

  ‘That bitch. She’ll pay for this,' he thought as anger swelled within him.

  But thinking on, he knew that even so, the man she was with was much more important to him at the moment.

  He knew that when close enough this man was able to anticipate hi
s actions. He had proved this was right, as the man had evidently known that he was about to fire his weapon earlier.

  Yes. This man was definitely a threat to him. Yet, deep down inside of him, he struggled with the feeling that he wasn’t right.

  For a moment, he had the feeling that he knew who the man was. Then shrugged, pushing that thought away.

  The playing field had indeed changed since this cursed man and his woman had come on the scene. He had almost killed them four times. He couldn’t believe that he had managed to bungle it each time. He was furious with himself that he hadn’t just killed them both when they were at his mercy.

  After stealing another car, Axon had paid a tramp to drive his bullet-riddled blue Mustang to the quarry. With him following in the other car.

  He smiled now, as he thought about the tramp, not having any inkling of what was going to happen to him. Just sitting in the car, waiting to get paid. Then boom and the look of surprise on the tramp’s face as the shot killed him.

  The neatness of his leaving the tramp’s body inside the Mustang, setting light to the car then pushing it over the edge.

  The blue Mustang had been stolen anyway and was now just a burnt out shell. So he was confident the police wouldn’t be able to trace him to this old building.

  Of course, early tomorrow morning, he’d have to steal another car, but he knew that wouldn’t be a problem for him.

  The two-storey building he was living in was earmarked for demolition next year to make way for some new homes. But for now, it was his home.

  ‘What a dump,' he thought looking around. He wished that he had more creature comforts. But he was thankful for a place to come back to.

  When he first found it, the narrow building was old, dark, and without electricity. He had since managed to bypass his part of the building’s main power board. So, for now, he had Heating, and, above all, he had light in the evening from a street lamp that was virtually outside his window.

  Of course, he hadn’t expected to be living in luxury, but he hadn’t expected to be reduced to this either, he thought. He looked around at the furniture in this dilapidated old open-plan apartment. All he had, was an old flea-ridden bed, a wobbly table and chair. A washbasin and a toilet that both came out of the ark. Plus a temperamental water supply, and an old microwave cooker that he’d stolen. What did he expect?

  Axon wasn’t a murderer, at least not by his reckoning. But, he knew that he had to finish what he’d come for.

  Having finished dressing the bullet wound, he sat down on the rickety chair next to the table, after moving an odd looking box out of the way.

  Then picking up a vacuum flask poured himself a hot cup of coffee. Took a slightly squashed looking sandwich from his pocket, and sat back to eat it.

  While eating, Axon thought about his current situation. He was still young, six foot one tall, and fairly well built. He had always considered himself good-looking, but now he could see that things were rapidly changing.

  His hair used to be almost black, but now it was greying, significantly.

  Then he thought about his eyes. When he first arrived they had been blue-green in colour, with an almost fluorescent look. But now, they had lost much of their brightness. Now they just looked old and tired. He knew that his energy levels were decreasing, he certainly tired more easily.

  He also knew that he shouldn’t have left before his blood test results had come back. But they would only have confirmed what he already knew. He sighed as he thought about it.

  Yes, he knew that he was ageing rapidly and would soon die. He also knew that there was nothing he could do to stop it.

  But tomorrow was a big day. Tomorrow he had to succeed in delaying Project Acarea whatever the cost.

  If not, he would never have another chance and his plan would have failed. Then the future timeline change, which he needed to make would never happen.

  After eating, he studied the plans of Cebro’s Building K8. He’d obtained them using his ‘Nano-technology’ eavesdropping bugs. With these, he now had everything that was needed. Including the test-site location and Cebro’s agenda.

  Then he remembered to check the level of his weapon’s nuclear-exciter charge and saw that it was low. But decided that there was sufficient charge. After tomorrow, he wouldn’t need it any longer.

  He had already decided to wear the optical Stealth Cloak that he had used early on. But, of course, this was a risky move now, as some of the projection mosaics had been damaged by that Parker guy.

  Axon swore, thinking about his misfortune. It had just been bad luck that Parker, thinking he had heard something, fired all the rounds from his revolver into the seemingly thin air. When in reality a few of Parker’s bullets hit some of the projection mosaics on his Stealth Cloak.

  Nevertheless, he had also been lucky that his bulletproof vest prevented him from being killed by the very same bullets.

  Yes, so far his luck had held. But he must put everything else aside now and concentrate on his mission.

  His primary concern was to be able to place his charge inside the container and under the feeder belt entrance. Then to ensure that the proximity sensor detonated his charge as the fissile material passed directly overhead.

  He rubbed his hands, thinking about the chaos he was going to cause.

  What a surprise they’ll get. Their building a ruin and everything radioactive across the whole site, he thought to himself.

  Then smile, and said out loud for all to hear.

  “Yes. It will all be worth it. Crilla will win.”

  Chapter 28.

  Henning.

  “As I said, we gave him the same blood test that we’re giving you. But he was a very impatient man. Then he left before I received the results.”

  “And, they were?”

  Henning opened a drawer in his desk, then took out a folder handing it to Micky.

  “These are the other man’s test results. Take a look at the cell group image, in particular, and at the conclusion.”

  Micky studied the report for subject A.

  “It’s not, well, not really within our terms of understanding,” Henning pointed out. “And before you ask. Yes, the cell image produced by the electron microscope has been checked against those of other people.

  “Why aren’t the cell images clear?”

  “That, Mr Sanderson, is the sixty-four million dollar question.”

  Micky handed the sheet to Charlie.

  “Wow. Just like science fiction,” Charlie exclaimed after reading it.

  “What do you mean Charlie?”

  “The fuzziness, of course.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, as I understand it. In sci-fi books about time travel, they seem to talk about residual energy in the traveller, which is still connected to the start point. I think it’s called Entropy.”

  “So do you believe that this man’s entropic reading or residual energy is entirely wrong for a person from our time and that this is trying to draw him back to where he came from?” Henning asked her.

  “Well yes, I suppose I must do.”

  “If we believed time travel was possible, then yes, I would probably agree with you,” Henning added.

  “Let’s stick to the present,” Micky interjected.

  “How come you’ve got an Electron microscope here?” Charlie asked.

  “A gift from a multi-millionaire.”

  With that, Jan knocked and entered.

  “The test results Doctor Henning.”

  As she handed them to Henning, she gave Micky a quick glance, then left.

  “Now let’s see. Oh, Not entirely unexpected.”

  “What is it?” Charlie asked, dreading the answer.

  “Mr Sanderson. Your cells have a misty coating, which is similar to the other man’s cells. But not quite so dense.”

  Micky feeling sick at hearing this looked quickly at Charlie, who was looking equally as sick as he felt.

  After a very long m
oment of silence, Doctor Henning read them the test summary.

  “So, in conclusion.

  The immune system’s level is low. This, combined with a glowing mist like coating, which seems to encompass every individual cell. Is most likely to be the cause of the premature ageing. This ‘coating’ is produced by an as yet unknown force.

  Lastly, there is a link between subjects A and B. Both are related to a common origin.”

  “What’s the origin?” Charlie asked, starting to shake.

  Micky calmed her with a slight mental nudge.

  Then said. “So we could both have come from the same place?”

  “That’s what the tests conclusion suggests. But it’s only speculative, we can’t know for sure.”

  “True, Doctor.”

  “Do you realize that I’m supposed to report this to the medical council, Mr Sanderson?”

  “No. But you can if you wish Doctor. After tomorrow, I’m sure it won’t matter anyway.”

  Charlie’s eyes watered; realizing exactly what Micky was inferring.

  “Do you have an address for this man, Doctor?”

  “Afraid not. But I do have his name or at least the one he had on his identification cards.”

  “They must be forged,” Charlie said knowing Micky had just helped her to recover from her emotions.

  “I reckon you’re right Miss. Of course, we’d have picked it up if he’d come back for the results or tried to pay us.”

  “What is the name he gave you?”

  “Axon. Don’t you think that’s a strange name? Mr Sanderson.”

  Somewhere at the back of Micky’s mind, there was a glimmer, something, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

  Or was it just his imagination? Why does the name matter, anyway? He wondered.