Close Up the Sky

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Close Up the Sky Page 7

by James L. Ferrell


  "As I said before, we sealed the water in airtight containers before shipping it to the lab. The seaweed content was relatively dense, and for safety reasons none of the technicians actually examined the material during its removal from the chamber. Had we done so, the shock we received from the lab report would have been considerably less. During the analysis, a living organism was discovered in the water. That, in itself, was not unusual, since all water contains some type of life. The shock was that this particular life form was a trilobite, a kind of crustacean that has been extinct since the Paleozoic era." Durant fell silent, leaned back in his chair, and waited for Leahy's reaction.

  Leahy shook his head in puzzlement. "I don't understand. How could seawater leak into a nuclear reactor? There's no ocean within hundreds of miles, not to mention one containing extinct shellfish, or whatever it was."

  “That’s just the point,” Durant replied in a quiet voice. “Millions of years ago there was an ocean here. In fact, the entire New Mexico desert was once a sea.”

  Leahy shifted to the edge of his chair. He looked back and forth from Durant to Taylor. "What do you mean?" His voice was almost a whisper. "Are you saying the water in the reactor came from an ocean that existed a million years ago, here on this spot?" Even as he asked it, the enormity of the question shocked him.

  “I don’t blame you for being skeptical, Matt, but it’s true,” Durant answered. “That’s the same reaction we all had when we realized the implication of the report. No one wanted to believe it, but there was only one explanation. We explored every conceivable way the phenomenon could have occurred, but none of them fit the facts. There was no way to avoid coming back to our original theory. The water and its contents were somehow pulled forward into our time from a bygone era. As impossible as it sounded, we could not dispute the evidence. Once we accepted the truth, we were able to get on with our work; finding out exactly how it happened."

  "My God," Leahy muttered, dumbfounded.

  Durant continued, "Since the energy released by the stellarite was of such short duration, we constructed a special test chamber to use for future testing instead of the reactor. After the new equipment was in place, we updated our computer program and performed a second test. Once again the tremendous power surge occurred, accompanied by brilliant green light. This time the seawater failed to appear. Instead, the floor of the chamber was covered by marshy earth and decaying vegetation. Analysis of the material revealed microscopic organisms that our biologists were unable to identify. Because of the disparity between the first and second tests, we repeated the experiment using the same parameters. The results were identical: more marsh and vegetation materialized. It even had the same smell as the first batch; a kind of wet, musty odor indicative of a swamp that receives too little sunlight due to constant overcast.”

  The scientist rose and began to pace back and forth behind his desk. "We were almost afraid to speculate on what was actually happening, but if our assumptions were correct, the marsh was actually part of an ancient sea turned to swamp by the passage of eons. Accepting that as true, we were looking at a piece of ground that existed before man was ever conceived by the mind of God."

  He stopped pacing, put his hands on his desk, and leaned toward Leahy. "You can imagine the implications of such a thing! But the question remained: how, or why, did the stellarite materialize water on the first test, but marsh on the second and third? The computers gave us the answer.

  "You see, each time the stellarite underwent neutron bombardment, it responded by releasing a new kind of energy. The energy surge was instantaneous, and a miniscule portion of the stellarite was changed into the new isotope. During the transformation process, it interacted with Earth's magnetic field, interrupting it in some way we don't yet fully understand. When the interruption occurred, the energy forced a separation of the space-time continuum and opened a kind of window into the past. During the instant the window was open, the immediate area surrounding the stellarite became part of a past era. But everything that stayed outside the stellarite's sphere of influence remained in the present. In other words, if you were outside the forty-foot circle of influence, you stayed in the present; if not, you went into the past.

  “We later found that the different kinds of things that materialized during the tests were due to the varying strengths of the electrical fields generated by the test equipment. During the first test, when we were using the reactor, the type of support machinery was different from that used in the special test chamber for the following tests, so two different amounts of electrical flux were produced. That’s why the second and third tests opened a window on a later era. In other words, the amount of energy used was equal to a specific place along the time continuum. Once we understood these basics, we were able to explore the possibilities in greater detail."

  Matt was completely absorbed in the story. In fact, he was mentally racing ahead of Durant, torn between excitement and fear about what its conclusion might reveal.

  "Of course, there were still many unanswered questions about how to harness this new power and how to use it for constructive purposes. That's when Apache Point came into being. Over the next few years, the combined talents of hundreds of scientists, engineers, and technicians from every related field were utilized to resolve most of the problems. The result of their efforts has been the creation of something man has imagined since the beginning of scientific thinking.”

  Durant sat down and leaned back in his chair. "H. G. Wells was more of a prophet than he knew. We now have a fully operational instrument capable of opening the door into any era of our past, allowing us to step through into history and return at will."

  Matt was stunned. If he had not personally seen the gigantic research facility and witnessed the extensive military involvement, he would have discounted the story as cleverly designed fiction. If Feldon and Summerhour had been aware of what Durant had just revealed to him, it was no wonder they couldn't disclose it. He understood now why Taylor had insisted on avoiding the issue during their flight. The knowledge made him light-headed. Time travel was something writers and freethinking scientists had kicked around for years, but no one took them seriously. Yet here he sat, a hundred feet beneath the surface of the Earth, in the real world, listening to a noted physicist saying they had actually accomplished it! The implications of such a thing were staggering. He wanted to say something intelligent, but visions of Eloi and Morlocks kept disrupting his thoughts. He felt soft fingers touch his forearm.

  “Matt?” The sound of Taylor’s voice interrupted his journey aboard Wells’s time machine and brought him back to the present.

  "I'm okay, Taylor." He smiled and put his hand over hers. "I was just daydreaming."

  "Believe me, Matt. I fully understand what you’re feeling," Kasdan sympathized. "I underwent the same emotional trauma myself."

  "I know it's hard to accept, Matt. It's a little like finding out Santa Claus really does exist, only this is worse," Durant said in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere. "Would you like more coffee before we continue? I'm afraid we've only skimmed the surface."

  "No, please go on." It was the most amazing thing Leahy had ever heard, and he was anxious to hear more. However, he also felt an inexplicable dread, and wanted to face it as quickly as possible.

  "Good." Durant got up and turned toward the star map. He stood staring at it for a few seconds, hands clasped behind his back.

  "You haven't yet had time to fully realize the importance of such a discovery, Matt," he said. "But then, neither did we at first." He turned to face them and continued with his story. "After we realized what we had stumbled onto and had solved the control problems, there were still some very important questions: what do you use such a device for? Do we hold in our hands the power to change history as we know it? What about the present? Could it be altered because of something we changed while tampering with the past? What about the future? Does it already exist? Can we open a window and see man's destiny a th
ousand years from now?

  "The implications were staggering, and we paid dearly for some of the answers. We learned through experience that the past and present are locked together into something like a chain. Each link is composed of an unalterable sequence of events, so no matter what we do in the past, it appears to have no known effect on the present. That is, with one very important exception: anything from the present, while operating in the past, can be altered. After a while it became clear that the main danger involving expeditions into other eras was to the agents themselves, not the possibility of their accidentally changing the course of history. Do you follow me?"

  "Let me be sure," Matt answered. The nerves in the back of his neck were bunched into a knot. He massaged them absently while he thought about Durant's question. "Suppose one of these agents caused the death of.....say, Napoleon before he became Emperor of France. I don't see any way around the obvious consequences. History would be changed. There would be no historic retreat from Russia, no Waterloo, and no French history as we know it today."

  "That's just the point,” Durant responded. “No one did cause his death before he became emperor. You see, even if someone from the future actually tried to kill Napoleon, history tells us it didn't happen. It follows then that even if the attempt was made, it wouldn't be successful. Whatever happens in the past, through either design or accident, becomes a part of history as we know it. It's a very complicated question, Matt. Almost like trying to imagine where the universe ends."

  "Yes, it is. What about the agents? What's the danger to them?"

  "We have no control over what happens to them while they're in the field. There's no way we can monitor their activities or provide support if they need it. All we can do is see that they're thoroughly briefed on the nature of their mission, and equip them as well as possible based on what history tells us about the period in which they'll be working."

  He sat down, took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Most of our missions are successful, but sometimes an agent doesn't come back. We never know why. It could be that they elect to remain where they are for some personal reason, or maybe they die from disease or accident. Unfortunately, some have been killed. We don't always know." He glanced at Taylor.

  The eye movement did not escape Leahy’s observation. “You don’t try to find them? I mean, if you can send them into the past, can't you recall them the same way?"

  "I'm afraid it's not that simple. As I said, it's very complicated. After the transport is complete, there’s no way of knowing where the agent is physically located. You see, the window only opens on a limited area of space. Recovery would be like trying to pick up a needle with a magnet. If the needle is too far away, the magnetic flux can't reach it. The agent would have to be in almost the exact same place where he transported through in order for us to recall him from this end. If he's anywhere else, he has to rely on his pager to activate the recall mechanism."

  "Pager?"

  "It's a device about the size of a small cellphone. When activated, it emits a continuous signal that instruments here at the laboratory detect and forward to the main computer. The computer then traces the signal back to the source and adjusts the transporter to the exact setting necessary to open a window and transport the agent back to the present. Without a pager, our people would be irretrievably trapped in the past. A lost or damaged pager may be one of the reasons why some of them never return. The fact is, that's where you come in. We desperately need your assistance in locating one of those agents."

  Matt let out a breath. It was finally out. It was as simple as that. They needed his help to find a missing person. First you drop a bomb on somebody about the existence of a time machine, then tell him you need his help in finding an agent lost somewhere in history. Matt Leahy, time traveling detective. It sounded a little silly, but Apache Point itself was enough to verify the seriousness of the situation.

  "You want me to find an agent?" he asked, pointing to himself, an incredulous expression on his face.

  "If you agree, yes," Durant answered, almost nonchalantly.

  "I'm almost afraid to hear the answer to this question,” Leahy said, “but why me in particular? I'm just a city detective. An organization with your kind of resources must be able to round up at least a hundred men with better qualifications than mine."

  "Under ordinary circumstances that might be true, but this situation is somewhat unusual. Besides, don't be too modest. The FBI tells us you're one of the finest detectives on the Atlanta force." Taylor and Kasdan nodded their agreement.

  The compliment did not impress him. "What do you want me to do?"

  Durant hesitated for a moment, and then said, "Being a policeman, I'm sure you understand the need for absolute secrecy in a project such as this. So before I go on, I'll have to ask you for at least a partial commitment. As of this moment, you already know more than ninety-eight percent of the people who work at Apache Point."

  "I don't usually go into something blindfolded, Dr. Durant, but I know you wouldn't have gone to all this trouble if you hadn't needed me badly. If there's anything I can do, of course I'll help."

  "Be sure, Matt. Once you start, there may not be a chance to back out."

  "Go." Out the corner of his eye he saw Taylor turn her head and look at him. He raised the coffee cup and took a sip.

  "Good!" Durant exclaimed. "Somehow I knew we could count on you. The telephone call I said I'd return when we first came into this office was from the president. He'll be pleased."

  "Of the United States?" Matt choked out, almost strangling on the coffee.

  "Yes. He was most anxious to know the status of our situation here." Durant said it as though having a telephone conversation with the president was an everyday event.

  My God, thought Matt, if the president was anxious, as Durant put it, then the problem was more than just a lost agent; some aspect of national security must be at stake. He leaned back in his chair and tried to ignore the butterflies forming in his stomach.

  Durant got up and walked over to the star map. He gazed at it while he continued to talk. "I said that our computers indicated that we would be able to run almost unlimited tests with the stellarite before it was completely transformed into the new isotope and rendered useless. With the supply of stellarite we had, we should have been able to continue our research indefinitely. Unfortunately, something has happened to change that."

  "Change it how?" Leahy’s tone carried a trace of suspicion.

  "You saw for yourself the level of security we maintain here. Not even the White House is so well protected. In fact, we were so sure of our integrity that we completely disregarded the possibility of enemy agents infiltrating the facility. Nevertheless, it looks as though it may have happened. As far as we know, the small quantity of stellarite in our possession is the only supply in this time period. That's the root of our problem. Something, or someone, has almost entirely destroyed it. As of this moment there is a strong possibility that over three hundred men and women operating in various stages of the past may never see home again."

  Durant's statement about the security level at Apache Point was correct. After seeing the sophisticated equipment and manpower expended in protecting the facility, he could testify that it would have been almost impossible for anyone to gain unauthorized access to any of the buildings. The display of force he had witnessed by the helicopter gunships in the desert was ample proof of that. If simple trespassers who accidentally strayed onto the grounds were handled with that level of force, he could imagine the reception a potential saboteur would receive. Though he had not seen it, he knew the time transporter itself must be under heavy guard. He wondered how anyone could have gotten near enough to destroy it without being killed. There was only one possible answer: it had to be someone on the inside. But confidence in his investigative skills could not be the reason he had been summoned here. He had no expertise whatsoever in the field of sabotage or terrorist investigations. In a very disquieting way his
instincts told him that the details of his real mission were about to unfold.

  "Do you know who did it?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

  Durant shook his head. "No. The FBI has assigned a task force to the investigation, but so far they haven't come up with anything." He put his hands over his face and rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. Leahy mentally sympathized with the old man. The stress created by the situation had to be enormous.

  "Seems to me the number of suspects in a case like this would be limited," he said. "I'm surprised the FBI hasn’t gotten some good leads."

  "It's really not their fault," said Taylor, taking part in the conversation for the first time. "The project is so secret we can't give them enough information to let them know what they're looking for."

  "They don't know about the time machine?"

  Durant cleared his throat. "We don't use that term, Matt. It would be too easy to let it slip in conversation. The device itself is called the Chronocom."

  Matt twisted the plastic badge on his lapel up so he could see the letters across the top: ChronSecCom. He deciphered the acronym immediately. It was military language for Chronocom Security Command. When it was issued to him he had not bothered to ask what it meant. He let go of the badge and looked at Durant.

  “I don’t see how you expect them to find your man if they’re kept in the dark about what they're supposed to be looking for," he said with a police officer’s defensive reasoning.

  Durant held out his hands, palms up. “You’re right, but it has to be that way. What do you think would happen if this project ever became public knowledge? What would the Russians or Chinese do if they knew we had such power? It could mean the beginning of World War III. So you see we can't risk anyone knowing about the Chronocom except the most essential personnel."

  "Then I'd say you're at square one.” Leahy shook his head. “No investigator is going to solve a case without knowing what he's up against." At that moment a new thought materialized in his mind. He gazed straight into Durant's eyes, attempting to penetrate the shell of mystery surrounding the scientist. "Or is that what you really want?"

 

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