The Corps of Discovery Trilogy Box Set: Books 1-3: A multiverse series of alternate history

by James S. Peet

  Once the men were used to focusing, Lane then taught them how to open the back of the camera and load the film. “Make sure you don’t expose too much, but you want to make sure your film is secure on the film winding sprocket.”

  Several attempts later, the three Explorers were comfortable in opening the camera, loading and unloading film, and closing the camera, along with focusing it.

  “Okay, time for photography class. Let’s go outside and take some pictures. But I want you to take notes on what the lighting conditions were like, such as outdoors, daylight, clear skies, what the shutter speed was, and what the f-stop was. Do this on the same object using various combinations.

  “One quick rule of thumb for outdoor photography is the Sunny16 Rule. Set the f-stop for f-16, and if your ISO, that’s your film speed, is 100, then your shutter speed is the inverse, or 1/100th of a second. Figure on Tri-M film ISO of 200, you’ll want f-16 at 1/200th of a second. To stop the motion, set a lower f-stop with more speed, such as f-11 at 1/400th of a second. Of course, the maximum we can do with this camera,” Lane held up the Kodak, “is 1/300th of a second, and the slowest being 1/25th of a second.”

  As with their other training, the Explorers spent hours of their own time perfecting their skills. In the Clark household, Meri began wondering if all the pictures Bill took of her and Jack could actually make a movie.

  57

  At last, their training came to an end. The final morning session began with Commandant Lewis giving the four a pep talk, along with specific instructions on their assignment.

  “As you can guess by now, the Corps has invested a lot of time and money into this excursion. Sometimes these excursions pay off, sometimes they don’t. Simply put, we want you to find out if that anti-gravity device exists. If it does, either bring one back or get the specs so we can build it here. That alone is worth the expense. Anything else you happen to find will be pure gravy. We expect you’ll be gone at least two months, and depending on where your explorations take you, maybe as long as four or six.

  “Bill, you’ll be nominally in charge. I know Lane’s got more experience at cultural surveys, but you’ve actually got the lion’s share of leadership experience, and this really isn’t a survey so much as it is an excursion to find a particular thing.” Looking around at the other three, lingering on Lane’s face, he continued, “If any of you have a problem with Bill being the leader, now’s the time to get it out in the open. I don’t need any bruised egos here.”

  Lane shrugged. “I actually prefer not being in charge.” He then smiled. “A whole lot less stress.”

  The others chuckled.

  “Bill, that set right by you?”

  Bill simply nodded.

  “Now, on to the specifics,” Lewis continued, handing out packets to each of the men seated around the conference table.

  “Inside those packets, you’ll find documents that should suffice as identification on Discordia. Remember, though, that they call it Earth, just as we do about our Earth.”

  The four opened the packets and extracted the documents. Bill’s consisted of a passport and a driver’s license, along with a student identification card from a St. James’ University. The driver’s license was from the State of Washington. That made sense, since on Earth’s timeline Washington separated from Oregon before the Civil War. The state seal looked identical to the one that was on his Washington State driver’s license from before his migration to Hayek: a headshot of President George Washington. There was also a library card from the Yakima Public Library along with a number of gold and silver coins. Some of the gold coins had images of George Washington. When Bill commented on that, the Commandant told them it was because, regardless of how the country split up, he was still considered the father of each country. “And, interestingly enough, they all use gold-based monetary systems and call their currency dollars. So, a twenty-dollar gold coin from the Republic of California is worth the same in the United States or the Confederacy.

  “Remember, you’re grad students taking a semester off to study, so that should give you at least three or four months of excuses on why you’re traveling. Which reminds me, Matt, let me hear your non-Southern accent,” Lewis commanded.

  When Matt spoke, it was like an alien had invaded his body. Instead of the mush-mouth Southern accent that Bill was used to, Matt’s speech came across as somebody born and raised in west Texas or the West, with only a slight trace of Southern accent.

  “Damn, boy,” Jordan said, “why don’t you always talk that way? I can finally understand you now!”

  Laughter rose among the group.

  Slipping back into his natural accent, Matt looked directly at Jordan and said, “Well, maybe I speak like this to confuse you simple-minded types.” It came out as “Waaal, mebbe I spik lahk this t’ confuze yuh simple mahnded tahps.”

  That caused another round of laughter.

  “Getting back on topic,” Lewis said, “you’ll be crossing over in two days, so get your affairs in order.”

  The four nodded.

  “Sir, just curious, but why are we crossing over here, rather than somewhere in the south, if the gates are portable?”

  “Good question, Bill,” Lewis said. “We thought about that, but determined that since we didn’t have as much information about it as we would like, and considering the type of environment, we elected to have you crossover here. Most of our support is here, and crossing over here and traveling to the Confederate States will give you more of an opportunity to learn and blend in than just jumping straight into a potentially hostile environment.” Nodding toward Jordan, Lewis continued, “Especially in Jordan’s case. We don’t know exactly what would happen to him if we tossed him into the south as he is right now, without sufficient warning. We’re hoping you’ll pick up some clues on how to act down there on the way.

  “And now for the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question you’ve probably all been wondering, which is ‘how the hell do we get back?’”

  The nods were a bit more emphatic on that one.

  “We’ve established a small post on the hill just north of Bowman Field on Discordia. It’s a small cabin that’ll be occupied by a couple of Explorers who have been there for some time now, fitting into the local culture. They’re the ones who got the endowments to the colleges and the books you’ve read. Listen to them before you begin your journey.

  “We don’t expect you back for at least a couple of months. I wouldn’t be surprised if it took longer. We’ve looked at their economy, and the money you have should be more than enough to last while you’re there. Just be smart, separate it on your body, and keep a reserve.

  “When you’re done, just return to the cabin. We open a gate for a short time every Sunday at noon.

  “Now, you’re probably wondering, ‘what the hell do I do if things turn to shit?’”

  That got a chuckle and nod from the four men.

  “Tough answer: get yourself out of it. Just like on Planet 42 when Bill’s plane went down, there’s nobody going to be coming for you to bail you out if things go south. We can’t afford to have people on strange planets learn about the gate, and Discordia is certainly a strange planet.

  “Get in, get the technology, then get out. Try to blend in as best as possible, and don’t take stupid chances. Any questions?”

  Bill raised his hand.

  “Yeah?”

  “Uh, I know we’re supposed to be going in sterile, but can we bring a picture or two?”

  “Good question. If it’s just one of your wife or girlfriend, okay. But, since you’re supposed to be single grad students, I don’t think having pictures with kids is a good idea.”

  Jordan raised his hand and was acknowledged.

  “If we’ve already got a couple of Explorers over there, why send us?”

  “Well, consider who we use for non-essential duties,” Lewis said.

  At that, the four Explorers remembered all the maimed and damaged Explorers who did
the work that didn’t need able-bodied people to do.

  As the four nodded, Lewis said, “Exactly. Okay, see you at Bowman Field in two days. Be there at eleven-thirty. We’ll meet in the terminal’s conference room. You’ll get the rest of what you need when you cross over.”

  The morning of crossover, Bill made his way to Bowman Field, accompanied by Meri and Little Jack. He wore a small backpack, the type a student would carry while hosteling through Europe on Earth, and was carrying Jack. He was dressed for his new role, wearing a light vest over a long-sleeved shirt that had a small, stand-up collar. Khaki pants and ankle-high leather boots made up the rest of his wardrobe. A fedora was the final touch. It apparently was common on Discordia, and all four men were wearing them. As it was getting warm, he wasn’t wearing the raincoat that would also serve as his jacket for the next several months.

  Bill was feeling a combination of excitement and guilt. Excitement about what he would find on the other side, and guilt about leaving Meri behind to handle her job and Jack all alone.

  When he expressed that to her, she looked at him with a slight smile.

  “Hey, it’s what we do,” she said. “We’re Explorers. We both signed on for this.”

  “Yeah, well, we weren’t quite expecting this.” Bill nodded down at Jack.

  “Guess we got lucky,” Meri said, with a bigger smile.

  “I guess so.”

  “Besides, it’s not like I’ll be having to handle the little guy all by myself. I’ve got Dad, Nicole, the Corps—you know, just about everyone.”

  “Well, that happens when you’re cute,” Bill said with a grin.

  “You talking about me or Jack?” Meri replied, with an even bigger grin.

  The walk to the airfield didn’t take too long, less than ten minutes. It was a lot different from the time Bill crossed over on his first survey. No long line of trucks was waiting to go through a gate, nor were any planes lined up on the tarmac, also awaiting their opportunity to transit to a strange, new world. The only activity Bill could see was survey aircraft doing touch-and-goes.

  Looking past the terminal, he could see a DHC-4 Caribou powering up out of the short landing that constituted a touch-and-go. It reminded him of his training. This caused an immediate flashback to when his training pilot was decapitated by a propeller that came through the cockpit. He could practically feel the blood splattering on his face. He abruptly stopped, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

  “Caribou?” Meri asked, understanding what Bill was going through.

  Opening his eyes, he nodded. “Yeah. Not bad, but just sorta hits you. Know what I mean?”

  Meri just nodded, taking a deep breath, herself.

  Probably thinking about that cave bear, Bill thought.

  He pointed up the hill beyond the airfield, where he could see a small group of people gathering around a portable gate.

  “Reckon that’s where we’ll be.”

  His words were confirmed when he saw the Commandant walking down the hill, waving toward the couple. Meri waved back. “Better not keep him waiting. You know how Dad can be.”

  Bill was still trying to figure that out, because he was in the position of seeing the Commandant from a variety of perspectives: Commandant of the Corps, his boss, Meri’s dad, his father-in-law, his son’s grandfather.

  “Yeah, the Commandant doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

  58

  Crossover was rather anticlimactic, as it usually was. With a slight hum, the gate, a simple affair looking more like a metal door frame, opened the portal to Discordia. The gate opened into a small cabin, out of view of anybody outside.

  Hmm. Good way to keep prying eyes from seeing it, Bill thought.

  Giving Meri a deep kiss, and buss to Jack’s head, Bill said his farewells and stepped through the gate, waving the others to follow.

  As soon as all four men had crossed over, the gate shut down. The four were left in a small room occupied with the basics of furniture and two older Explorers.

  “Welcome to Earth,” the woman said with a grin and an expansive wave of her arms.

  “Thanks,” said Jordan, setting his pack on the floor. The others followed suit.

  “I’m Nancy and this is Miles,” the lady said.

  As the four newcomers shook hands with the two on-the-ground Explorers, they introduced themselves. When it was Bill’s turn, Nancy said, “We’ve heard about you. Pretty amazing thing you did.”

  Bill nodded graciously. “Well, it wasn’t all me. Matter of fact,” he said, rather self-deprecatingly, “if it weren’t for my wife and Jordan here, I doubt that I’d be here talking with you.”

  Nancy and Miles raised their eyebrows, recognizing that it wasn’t false modesty talking.

  “Grab a seat,” Miles said, pointing to a table with chairs around it. “I’ll fill you in on the local scene, so you don’t make asses out of yourselves when you step out.”

  As the group sat, Nancy handed out cups of coffee, something unexpected but greatly appreciated. Bill drank his black, but the others added milk, sugar, or both.

  “As you know,” Miles continued, grabbing a chair, turning it around, and sitting down on it, arms crossed over the back, “some of the stuff you learned is good, but there’s a lot missing. No matter how hard we try, so you just gotta roll with it.

  “Now, getting to the CSA is going to be a bit different than you’re used to. Sorry we didn’t include this in our initial feeds, but transportation over here’s a bit different. Forget about flying or even driving. Planes are few and far between, and damned expensive. Jets haven’t even been developed yet, from what we can tell. And cars, well, they exist, but the roads are more like something from the 1940s than our time. No interstates and crossing borders is a pain. Luckily, trains are fairly well developed. Some even cross the borders.”

  At this, the four men raised their eyebrows.

  “Well, it ain’t all golden. The tracks in the CSA are different than the rest of the continent, so you’ll have to transfer when you cross the border. Hell, many are even different throughout the Confederacy. But that shouldn’t be too much of a problem for you.”

  As Miles talked, Nancy pulled out a map of North America and began to set it on the table, forcing the men to lift their coffee mugs.

  “Depending on how you want to do things, there are a number of places you can cross over into the Confederacy. All basically entail heading south and east, though. I’d suggest going east first, then south. Passing through Deseret is pretty tame, and you won’t get much grief.” Miles pointedly looked at Jordan as he said this.

  “Other than that, you’ve got three choices: Texas, Franklin, or the U.S. I’d avoid going through the U.S., as the Confederacy still hates them, and crossing borders between them can be tricky. That pretty much leaves Texas or Franklin. Either one works. Texas has more slightly more cordial relations with the Confederacy.”

  “Which way is the least expensive?” Bill asked, thinking about the limited funds they had.

  “Probably going through Franklin. Texas’s economy is more developed, so prices are higher there.”

  “Right. Well, it looks like we’ll be going through Franklin then.”

  Miles nodded. “Anyhow, the situation here is pretty tame. Most people tend to mind their own business, so you shouldn’t have too many problems. One thing you probably didn’t know is that the Republic of California is mainly white, Asian, or Native American. Not too many African-Americans, which means you’re gonna stick out a bit, Jordan.”

  “I’m used to it,” Jordan replied. “Not too many of us in the Corps or on Hayek, from what I could see.”

  Acknowledging that with a nod, Miles continued, “The nearest train station is in Yakima, about four miles away. I’ll give you a ride in my truck.” He turned to Nancy. “Nance, you wanna hand out the hardware?”

  “Sure thing.”

  Nancy picked up several small boxes from the kitchen counter and handed one to
each of them. The box Bill received was heavy and had a picture of a pistol on the front. Inside was an automatic pistol. Stamped on the slide were the words “Luger 9mm Parabellum.” Just like home, he thought.

  Setting the box down on the table, Bill reached in and picked up the pistol, being sure to keep his finger off the trigger. The other three were doing the same thing.

  Bill heard Lane exclaim, “Sweet, a 1911. How’d you guys know that’s my favorite pistol?”

  Pointing the pistol at the ground, Bill pulled the toggle back, exposing an empty chamber. Looking back at the box, he saw there were three magazines in it.

  Nancy said to Lane, “A little bird at the base range told us.”

  While the men were checking out their new firearms, Miles stood and went to another room. While he was gone, Nancy placed several boxes of ammunition on the table.

  “Better load up. An empty gun doesn’t do anyone any good.”

  Bill placed the pistol back in the box and grabbed one of the boxes of ammunition. Hmm. Self-defense ammunition. I wonder how that’s different than regular?

  Opening the box, he saw the bullets were hollow-points, rather than the full-metal jacket type he normally used and had trained on. Since the Corps didn’t use pistols, and he had only used his Glock for target practice before leaving his Earth, he didn’t have much experience with the various types of ammunition one could use in them.

  Shrugging internally, Bill extracted the first cartridge, picked up one of the magazines, and pushed the round into the magazine. He repeated this process until the magazine was fully loaded.

  After all three magazines were loaded, he pulled a final cartridge from the box and set it down next to the pistol. He wasn’t about to load a pistol without having anywhere to safely store it on his body. By then, Miles had returned with several more boxes, which he handed out to the foursome.