The Gordian Protocol

by David Weber

  “But that would mean that there’s a universe where I helped Julius Caesar.” Raibert’s eyes widened. “That would mean there’s a version of Earth where a bunch of demons showed up, ransacked the Great Library of Alexandria, and killed hundreds of people! That instead of time travel having no consequences, it’s the complete opposite!”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you sure about this?”

  “Not a hundred percent,” the avatar admitted. “But close. It became clear when Kleio and I took another look at your resonance. Searching for a connection to a previous state of this universe was the key. Raibert, three of the other universes share the same core characteristics. They’re each subtle variants that must have branched off a common source, and at least two formed after SysGov started experimenting with time travel.”

  “Oh, God, Philo! We used to plunder the past and gun down anyone who stood in our way! They were completely helpless to stop us! And this means it was real! It was all real!”

  “Yeah,” Philo sighed.

  “We were nothing but a band of time-travelling mass murderers!”

  “Not all of us.”

  “But this is horrible! This is…this is beyond horrible!”

  “Try to calm down.”

  “Calm? How could I possibly be calm right now? My entire life’s work is a terrible mistake! I thought we were helping when we forced ART to reform, but it turns out we’re still part of the problem. Every trip back—Preservation and Observation—rewrites history? We’re the reason the universe is going to die!”

  “And that just means it’s our responsibility to put it right. All of it.”

  Raibert gulped and looked at his companion. Somehow the calmness and clarity in the Viking’s eyes steadied his own nerves.

  “Don’t forget,” Philo continued. “I’ve actually been on Preservation missions before. I’ve participated in their abuses, which means I just discovered I have real blood on my hands. Not as much as most of them, but…it’s there, and that’s something that I’ll have to come to terms with.”

  “You seem to be taking it well.”

  “No, I’m not,” the AC admitted. “I’m just keeping most of my drama from showing up on my avatar.”

  Raibert chuckled sadly. “A lot of swearing going on inside your connectome?”

  “You better believe it.”

  “Any of it directed at you-know-who?”

  “Every last word.”

  “Figured as much.” Raibert smiled sadly. “I didn’t mean to belittle what you’re going through. Sorry, buddy.”

  “It’s all right. This is a lot for both of us to take it. But you know what?”

  “What?”

  “I know exactly how I’m going to deal with it. Not by sitting around and feeling guilty for myself, but by taking action and doing something about it. We’re not going to stop at unraveling the Knot. We need to do that, of course. Who knows how exactly, but we’ll get it done. And after that, after SysGov is back, we take this to the Ministry and we shut the whole thing down. We can’t undo what’s already been done, but we can all atone by doing everything in our power to make it right.”

  Raibert sighed. “You’re right of course. But…”

  “Yeah?”

  “But how about we take this one step at a time?”

  *

  “Oh, what’s this?” Philo exclaimed suddenly.

  “Hmm?” Raibert murmured, opening his eyes but not bothering to straighten from where he’d rested his head on the command table when he drifted off.

  “Raibert! Raibert! Raibert!” The Viking hurried around the table and bent down so that their heads were next to each other. “Raibert!”

  “Yes? I can tell you’re excited about something,” he muttered with his face squished against the table. “Well, what is it?”

  “I found something that’s guaranteed to raise our spirits!”

  “I find that claim highly dubious right now.”

  “Well, prepare to be amazed, because you are not going to believe what I just found!”

  “All right then.” Raibert sat up and wiped the drool from his lips. “Let’s have it.”

  “Check this out!” Philo shoved the local map aside, and a dossier appeared in its place. The middle-aged man in the picture was tall and broad shouldered with dark hair combed to the side and piercing gray eyes. Not as big as Raibert’s new body, but still an impressively stout individual.

  “Meet Doctor Benjamin Schröder,” Philo began. “Former chairman of the history department at Castle Rock University.”

  “A fellow historian?” Raibert remarked, perking up. “Well, that is encouraging. Does he show signs of dual memories?”

  “Oh, does he ever!” Philo swiped the first several pages aside. “Doctor Schröder experienced a major mental breakdown in 2017. Before that day, there was no history of mental illness in either himself or any member of his immediate family. All of them paragons of health, really.”

  “Okay. So he went a little crazy. That doesn’t prove he had dual memories.”

  “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong,” Philo corrected. “It’s the nature of his delusions that makes me think we’ve found what we’re looking for. You see, he suddenly started having extremely clear ‘fantasies’ of an alternate version of himself. And not just of himself, but of a different family with different siblings and even a different world history.” The Viking grinned. “That’s either one very vivid imagination, or his brain is connected to another timeline.”

  “All right, then.” Raibert sat up and nodded. “Let’s pay him a visit and verify it. Is he still alive?”

  “Not at this point in the timeline. Says here he did quite well after the episode. Got married shortly afterward, no children. Then his wife died in a traffic accident twelve years later. He relapsed—lots of psychotherapy and medication, a few experimental treatments that didn’t work. Sounds like he slowly became unable to separate the two realities. Depression. And finally a suicide in 2038. Drug overdose.”

  “Sheesh!” Raibert grimaced. “Poor guy! And I thought I had it rough. Go ahead and suck out my connectome and puree my body any day of the week over that. Can we verify the resonance off his corpse? I’d like to prove this out while we’re phased in if we can. Less chance of Shigeki’s goons spotting us that way.”

  “They’re probably well past the storm front by now, but I agree. Best to not take unnecessary risks. And on that note, I’ve already turned us toward his grave site. We’ll be there in less than an hour. If I’m right, there should still be some faint resonance on the body.”

  “Perfect! And this also narrows our search, right?”

  “That’s right. As long as the resonance is there, we can eliminate anything after he was conceived. That shaves fifteen years off the search window.”

  “Then we’re making progress.” Raibert rubbed his hands together. “So, if this is our guy, when do you think we should say hello?”

  “I’d say shortly after his first round of psychotherapy. From the record, that seems to be the period where he’s most stable, and it’s still quite a ways from where the Admin will be looking for us. So, call it early 2018?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Denton, North Carolina

  2018 CE

  Three heavy knocks reverberated through the house.

  Benjamin lowered his hand from the alarm console and turned back to the front door. Couldn’t people read the no solicitation sign? He shook his head and was about to set the alarm when another three deep, insistent knocks came from the door.

  “Fine.” He checked his phone. Still plenty of time. “All right! I’m coming! And if you’re selling something, I can recommend a great optometrist!”

  He headed back into the living room, wondering who it could be. Anyone he cared to see would have had the politeness to call ahead of time, and he did have the sign up, so they were either being ignorant or they really needed to talk to him.

  A famil
iar lump of anxiety built in the pit of his stomach as his mind started calling up worst-case scenarios, like the police coming to report Elzbietá had been in a fatal car accident. That a drunk had killed her the same way one had killed Miriam. That he’d have to deal with— He shook the dark thoughts away as he’d done many times since The Day. No, it wasn’t going to happen. The universe wasn’t really hellbent on crushing anyone he ever let himself love. That was just stupid emotions talking, yammering away in the back of his brain because he was so nervous.

  He took a calming breath, and checked the peephole.

  A big, blond-haired man in a black pinstripe suit and wide-brimmed hat stood a few paces from the door. He wasn’t holding any pamphlets and he didn’t have a police badge, so Benjamin wasn’t sure what to expect. He removed the chain lock, slid the bolt aside, and opened the door.

  “Doctor Benjamin Schröder, I presume?” the big guy asked with an accent Benjamin couldn’t quite place. Maybe Chinese? For what little sense that made, given his obvious ethnicity.

  “That’s right.” His anxiety built at the mention of his name. This was no random solicitor. “What do you want?”

  “I’m sorry. Have I come at a bad time? If you like, I can return later. It’s literally no trouble at all.”

  “No, that’s fine. You’re here now. Just tell me what this is about.”

  “Of course, Doctor.”

  The man took off his hat and held it before him in both hands. For some reason, his posture gave Benjamin the impression of a small man trapped in a huge body.

  “Doctor Schröder, my name is Raibert Kaminski. Professor Kaminski, actually. I’m a historian, like you, and I need your help.”

  “Are you serious?” Benjamin snapped.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “If what you say is true, then you should know I’ve taken a leave of absence. Doctor Chalmers is the acting department chair. Go talk to her if you need something. Don’t show up at my house uninvited. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Professor, I don’t have time for whatever game you’re playing.”

  Benjamin pushed the door closed, but Raibert bolted forward, and the door rebounded off his foot. For such a big guy, he moved fast.

  “What are you doing?” Benjamin growled. “Get your foot out of the way!”

  “Please, Doctor! I really do need your help! There’s no easy way for me to tell you what you need to hear. Just please hear me out.”

  Benjamin saw genuine fear in the big man’s eyes. Whatever Raibert was talking about, he at least believed it to be a matter of great importance.

  “All right.” Benjamin eased the door back. “Let’s hear it, then.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.” Raibert stepped back. “As I said, there’s no good way to start talking about this, so I’ll get right into it. The reason why you—and only you—can help me is because of the episode you had eight months ago.”

  “What do you know about that?” Benjamin demanded sharply.

  “A lot more than your psychologist does. You see, I know why it happened.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Doctor, I’m not…” Raibert’s eyes grew distant for a moment, almost as if he were listening to someone. “Sorry. Maybe I’ve been going about this the wrong way. Doctor, I understand a lot of this is going to be difficult for you to hear, and I don’t expect you to believe me without proof—which I can provide, by the way—but it may make more sense if you’d please be patient and consider what I have to say as a whole.”

  “Fine.” Benjamin didn’t know what this Raibert, if that was even his real name, was after, but maybe he could deal with the man better once all the cards were on the table. “Out with it, then.”

  “Thank you, Doctor. First, I wasn’t completely honest when I introduced myself.”

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  “Not a lie, you understand. Just an omission. My name is Raibert and I am a historian. In fact, I specialize in ancient Greek and Roman history. It’s just that I’m a historian from the thirtieth century.”

  “You don’t say?” Benjamin smirked. “Oh, this ought to be good. Please don’t let me stop you now.”

  “Thank you, Doctor. To answer your next question, yes, I have a time machine.”

  “Well, of course. Why wouldn’t you have one? Have you found yourself marooned in 2018 for some reason?”

  “No. It’s fully functional.”

  “Sure it is.”

  “The reason I find myself in 2018 is because of you. Or rather, the connection you have with another version of the timeline.”

  The humor drained from Benjamin’s face.

  “You see, the timeline is…” Raibert started, then frowned before continuing. “The timeline appeared to be immutable, which is why people like me could hop into our time machines and explore the past at our leisure without fear of any consequences.

  However, the timeline has changed, and that’s…not good. I won’t bore you with the technical details, but if the timeline isn’t restored, then this entire universe and fifteen of its neighbors will be destroyed.”

  Benjamin’s face was stone as Raibert continued.

  “That’s why I need your help. The change took place somewhere in the twentieth century, before you were born. I don’t have detailed records on this period, and my knowledge of ancient societies is, as you can imagine, next to useless here. I need someone with firsthand knowledge of what the twentieth century should be. The trait I’ve searched for is a pregnancy that occurred after the timeline diverged. A pregnancy that occurred in both timelines, which happens a lot less than you might think. Those rare people would then be able to resonate with the timeline’s previous state, and their minds could then develop a connection to their alternate selves.”

  Benjamin’s frozen-helium glare should have flash-frozen his visitor where he stood.

  “You, Doctor Schröder, are one of those people. Your ‘mental breakdown’ was nothing of the sort. All of those memories are real; they’re simply from another version of the timestream. One that must be restored. The timeline must be set to right, and I need your help to do it.”

  Benjamin exhaled deeply as powerful emotions crashed and echoed deep inside him.

  “Doctor Schröder, I’m sure this is a lot to take—”

  He slammed the door in Raibert’s face, locked the bolt, and turned away.

  “Umm, Doctor?” Raibert knocked again. “I’m not finished yet.”

  “Yes, you are! Go away! Go the hell away!”

  Those memories were real? Impossible! Absolutely impossible! They were delusions brought on by an overactive imagination, nothing more. He’d come too far and fought through too much to succumb and lose himself in that dark chasm of alien memories now.

  “Doctor, could you please open the door?” Raibert jangled the knob. “I know this comes as a shock, but I’m more than willing to help talk you through it.”

  “If you’re really from the future, why don’t you just vaporize the door with your laser pistol?” he spat.

  “I don’t have one. Besides, they don’t work like that.”

  “Forget it! I’m done talking to you! Just go away!”

  Wood splintered behind him, and he turned to find the door open with Raibert frowning down at a lock ripped free of the wall but still attached to the door.

  “Sorry,” the big man said bashfully. “I honestly didn’t mean to do that.”

  “Get out of my house!”

  “Doctor, please calm down.” He stepped in and suddenly smiled. “Hey, consider the bright side of the situation. You’re not crazy! There’s a perfectly reasonable and wholly scientific explanation for everything that’s happened to you.”

  “You think what you just said is ‘reasonable’?”

  “Well, yes,” Raibert said. “Doctor, perhaps I didn’t stress this enough. The universe will be destroyed if the timestream isn’t repaired.”

  “But that doesn’t even make any sense! How does changing t
he past destroy the universe?”

  “Well, put simply, there’s a lot of energy pouring into our universe from the fifteen neighbors we’re entangled with. When that energy hits what we call the Edge of Existence in about thirteen hundred years—a measurement made from an absolute reference, mind you—the entire universe will explode in a cataclysm that will make the big bang look like cheap fireworks.”

  “Thirteen hundred years? Thirteen hundred years?” Benjamin laughed sadly. “How is any of that my problem?”

  “Technically, it’s everyone’s problem. Besides, you have the knowledge I need to prevent it.”

  “Do you have any concept of what’s different?”

  “No…” Raibert said carefully, “but I’d love to hear all about it.”

  “Death!” Benjamin shouted, backing into the kitchen. “That’s what’s different! Try these numbers on for size! Thirty million in the Chinese Revolution! Fifty million in Stalin’s Soviet Union. Eighty million in World War II! Oh, and let’s not forget the industrialized genocide of the Jews!”

  “Okay, yeah.” Raibert followed him into the kitchen. “I’ll grant you, those are some big numbers. But we’re talking about saving an entire universe here! I hate to break morality down to mathematics, but a couple million is like a drop in the ocean compared to the apocalypse I’m trying to stop.”

  “No! That’s not it at all! You’re asking me to help you murder millions of people by changing the past! And not just them, but their children and their children’s children all the way up to your thirtieth century! How many lives is that? How much blood are you trying to coat my hands with?”

  “Did I mention that another fifteen universes blow up along with ours? I may have missed that detail. So, it’s actually a drop in a whole row of vast oceans.”

  “A thousand years from now! So I say, who the fuck cares?”

  “Well, I care. And you should, too.”

  “Either you’re lying, in which case you’re crazier than me! Or you’re telling the truth, which means I’d be crazy to help you!”

  “But think of the lives you’ll be saving.”