“What do you think?” Mym studies me from the bed.
“I think I’m tired of being a pawn in everyone else’s plans, but if there is going to be an end to this, I need to keep playing. Whatever the endgame is, it happens on the other side of that gate.”
“Do you know anything about what the major expects you to do?”
“Not yet. But I think it’s time I found out.”
30
“War has scarred every timestream I’ve visited. If there is a world where mankind has learned to resolve conflict without aggression, it is a time I’ve yet to witness—but also one I have not ceased hoping for.”–Journal of Dr. Harold Quickly, 1776
“What is it?” I ask.
The major is standing over the open crate with an expression akin to a child showing off a new toy. I try to look appreciative of the contents, but to me it just looks like cans of lubricating oil. The gray metal cylinders nestled in the straw packing have a threaded top with slightly more complicated looking lids, but they could hold anything really.
“This is how we knock them out of this fight.” He picks up one of the cans and models it appreciatively. “If your new information is right and they’ve got a weapon to use on us, we’ll need to beat ’em to the punch.”
Mym is beside me. Her surprise arrival has gone largely uncommented on with the exception of a creepy wink from the major when I arrived in his office with her. He seems unaware that she is something other than a female overnight guest and that my “new” information came from her. He addresses his explanation toward me, oblivious to the fact that he’s just met the daughter of the greatest mind in the world of time travel. Mym seems disinclined to enlighten him, so I follow her lead.
The major has brought us to the basement to explain his new strategy, complete with visual aids. He practically beams at the device in his hand. “We confiscated the plans from a Zealot warehouse and used them for our own design. The black-clads never did figure out how to get them to work, but you have to give them credit for trying. Our engineers finished the job, and now we’re going to give them back a dose of their own medicine.”
The other men around the basement armory are silent and serious. Milo and Kara are nearby, but Milo is away in the metaspace and Kara has used the opportunity to clean the underside of her nails with one of her knives. She casts occasional glances at Mym and me, but her emotions are as invisible to me as ever.
Major McClure is on a roll. “With this baby, we can escalate your trip through the time gate from a recon mission to an offensive strike.”
“So, they’re some kind of grenade?” I’m just guessing now.
“No, no. Not that we didn’t think of using explosives. That’s still a decent plan B, but we need to hit all of them. Take ’em down and keep ’em down. You know what I’m saying?”
No. I most definitely do not.
“It’s more what your generation would’ve called an EMP. Only this pulse is far more effective.”
I stare into the crate at the dozen or so devices, then slowly detach my fingers from the side of the box. “Aren’t EMPs a product of nuclear bombs?” I put my hands in my pockets and try to ease away without appearing obvious. Not that it would matter. If I’m stuck in a basement with a dozen nuclear weapons, a few feet won’t make a sliver of difference if one goes off.
“That’s the old way. Technology has advanced since your day, son. These EMPs are for electronics only. It’ll mess up anything in a planet-wide range, though, sure as shootin.”
I consider the canister in his hand and can’t help but be skeptical. “The whole planet?”
“It’s what they call ‘redundant wave technology.’ Can’t say as I know all the engineering specifics, but it’ll just keep looping around the atmosphere, knocking out anything electronic it hits, for what? Couple years?”
A man in a canvas jacket next to the major bobs his head. He seems pleased to be called on and gestures a lot while he speaks. “The pulses ricochet around the surface and hit any given spot at least once every hour. It could take a decade before the waves finally get absorbed, depending on the topography. The higher you are when you set it off, the better the results.”
“Why am I supposed to use this?”
The major looks annoyed. He turns to where Milo is leaning against the brick wall of the elevator and shouts, “Kalani, I thought you said you explained to him about the solitaire.”
Milo looks up and adjusts his glasses. “I did. We talked about it. Last night.”
The major looks back to me with an expression that clearly says I must be the root of the trouble. He glances at Mym, perhaps wondering how such an attractive girl could be seen with anyone so dense.
“I get the bit about the solitaire,” I explain, “it’s a timestream all by itself with no other connections. But why the EMP?”
“To knock out the time gate, of course, and keep them from getting out!” The major’s nostrils flare, and he thumps the top of the crate with a fist. “If they want to squirrel themselves into one timestream, well by God we’ll let ’em. And we’ll see to it they never come back.”
I try to digest the plan. “But, we know where the time gate is. It’s in the warehouse in the video. Why don’t we just go take it apart there and shut them—”
“You think we haven’t thought of that?” The major’s beard seems to swell as he puffs up his cheeks with the exertion of his speaking. “We need to make sure we get any gates they might have on the other side, too. A gopher don’t dig a hole with one exit. You gotta plug ’em all and be sure they can’t go burrowing a new one. THAT’S what the EMP is for.”
“Okay, so I EMP the planet. Then what? How will I get out?”
The major closes the lid on the weapon’s crate. “That’s where you have to talk to Kalani. He’s got the exit plan.”
I turn toward the elevator shaft. In this time period it’s undamaged and the bricks blend seamlessly into the ceiling. Milo pushes off from the wall. “Well it’s largely untested, of course, because we haven’t been able to set off one of these devices in any modern timestreams. Even out here there aren’t many places you can get away with zapping the technology of the entire planet. You have to go back a few centuries. But the farther back you go, the more durable the technology gets. That’s why we think you’ll be able to get back out.”
“Why?”
Milo smiles and points to my wrist. “You’re an analog. The electronics in your chronometer should be minimal. A pulse that would decimate a Temprovibe would probably leave your device unharmed.”
“Probably? That’s kind of taking a lot on faith, isn’t it?” I glance at Mym. It’s hard to read her expression but she doesn’t seem to be dismissing the possibility outright.
“They won’t see it coming. That’s why we think it will work. They’re expecting Bozzle to come through that gate, but you get through, jump away immediately till whenever you can, and set off the EMP. We’ll give you an anchor to use for a jump to a parallel stream. You degravitize it and get out of there. Bam. Problem solved.”
Everyone is looking at me now, the major and his engineer friend, the couple of guards behind me, even Kara has put her knife away and is waiting for a response.
“Won’t they just rebuild the time gates once the EMP pulses wear off?”
“Not where they are,” Major McClure snorts. “They don’t have the technology. Did you show him where this stream is on the timeline, Kalani?”
Milo steps closer and puts his hands in his pockets. “It’s 1996, and it’s a timestream where Dr. Harold Quickly was never born.” He casts a subtle glance at Mym. “No Dr. Quickly means no one is there to discover time travel. The farther into the future they get, the farther they’ll be from a parallel timestream they can make a jump to even if they do rebuild the tech. The closest one is Negative Epsilon Winter. That’s where we’ll be waiting for you, and if they ever decide to try to follow you out, we’ll be ready for them. I think Major McClure
has that part of the plan covered.”
Major McClure puffs up a little at this. “Damn right.”
The idea of getting back to a century near my own is tempting. “1996, huh? Won’t me setting off an EMP in 1996 have major repercussions?”
“Definitely,” Milo replies. “But don’t worry, this won’t be a 1996 you’ll have ever heard of. Whatever they did to make this solitaire, it’s all brand new. It’s like they wanted a fresh start, completely virgin territory when it comes to time travel. Whatever effects you cause there won’t produce any repercussions in the central streams.”
The major crosses his arms and smiles. “They’ll have all their problems to themselves. And with this plan, we can make sure to keep it that way.” He concentrates his stare on me. “So what do you say, kid?”
“Nobody else wanted to volunteer for this, huh?”
“Couldn’t,” the major replies. “You’d already done it.”
Stupid time travel.
I frown at the crate of EMPs and pull my hands out of my pockets. More than anything I just want to go home, but I don’t want to ever walk into my apartment and find Geo’s goons waiting for me again. This could shut the door on them for good. No more looking over my shoulder. No more ambushes. One more time gate, then home.
I turn to Mym and keep my voice low. “What do you think?”
She angles herself toward me and away from the others. “It’s not impossible. I’d like to see the schematics on that device to see what it would do to your chronometer, but it might work. It’s your decision though. I’ll support you either way.”
I fiddle with the dials on my chronometer, studying the concentric rings that make up the dates. I realize I’ve absentmindedly set it for 2009. Home. Finally I look back up and address the major. “Okay. I’ll try it. But I want breakfast first.”
<><><>
Breakfast is a jovial affair. The major is in a wonderful mood now that I’ve agreed to his plan of attack. His men are lighthearted also, sharing his good humor. I get clapped on the back and wished well by lots of people I don’t know. Then I finally get to spend time with some people I do. Although Mym has opted to skip breakfast in the interest of enjoying a shower in my room, I’m not alone in the cafeteria for long.
Genesis has taken the bandage off her neck, and even though her wound is still red and noticeable, it seems to be healing well. She enters the cafeteria accompanied by Deanna, who is much more at ease now that the group is headed home. Deanna even laughs with one of the soldiers who makes a flattering comment as the girls walk by. Genesis is still reserved and doesn’t even look at the soldiers, but she uses the distraction to escape Deanna and come sit next to me. She’s wearing a baggy hoodie that I suspect belonged to Jettison. The sleeves have swallowed most of her hands, and the tips of her fingers are all that show while she braces herself against the table and climbs over the bench. They disappear again when she tucks her hands under her armpits and stares vacantly at the tabletop. I offer her some of my remaining breakfast items, but she shakes her head. She does agree to take my second paper cup of coffee that I haven’t touched yet. She cradles it in her sweatshirt-padded palms and blows over the top. We don’t talk, but we don’t really need to. After what we’ve been through in the last few days, words have become superfluous.
Cliff shows up with Jonah, and the pair put a sizeable dent in the breakfast buffet. Morning has brought better moods for everyone, and Jonah laughs at Cliff’s corny jokes. The gruff older man has lost a bit of his edginess, and while I know he’s still mourning for Jettison, he puts on a good face for the kid. It makes me wonder if Cliff has ever had children of his own.
Our table slowly fills. Deanna detaches herself from her admirers and Bozzle arrives as well. Tad is still in the infirmary, but his prognosis is good. It turns out he had to have a bunch of shrapnel removed from our close encounter with the cryo-heads. Deanna informs us that he may get some synthetic organs during the surgery. She says it like it’s a positive, so I try to seem appropriately excited. When she gets up to go talk to the major, Jonah slides down the bench to me.
“I heard what you’re going to do.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. They said you’re going to finish the race.”
“I don’t think it’s really a race anymore at this point, bud.”
“My brother said someone not from the Academy should win the race. That’s why he wanted me to do it, but he said if I can’t be the one to win, then I should help someone else do it.”
My thoughts stray to Jonah’s father and I wonder just how deeply involved his family is. “You have helped, Jonah. You’ve been a big help. And when this is all over, maybe someday I’ll meet your family. I can tell your brother how great you did.”
“I don’t think he’ll believe you.”
“That doesn’t matter. It’s true. No one can take that away from you. You’ve done amazing.”
The boy is obviously pleased with the compliment. He plucks a dehydrated marshmallow from his cereal and puts it in his mouth. He chews slowly, then looks back up. “Will we still be friends when we get home? Can we still have breakfast with Cliff and Bozzle and Genesis in our time?”
“I don’t see why not. We’ll be able to visit each other.”
The boy seems satisfied with that. “Okay.”
Cliff pauses his breakfast to look at me. He seems to be debating what to say, but finally lets it out. “You don’t have to do it, you know. Paradox or not. Nobody would blame you for not walking through there.” He glances around the room at soldiers at nearby tables and only lowers his voice slightly. “Nobody who matters, anyway.”
I finish buttering my blueberry muffin before responding. “I appreciate that. I know I don’t have to. But something is going on there, and I think someone ought to know what it is, don’t you?”
Cliff frowns but doesn’t deny it. “I mean to get some answers from this chronothon committee once we’re back. Someone is responsible for this mess.”
“That’s why I’m going on. From what Milo and Kara have said, they believe the answers are ahead, not back.”
“Is anyone going with you? I’ve got the trip back to make, but if you need a hand . . .”
“It’s okay. That’s not what happened according to the video. I know you’d help if you could.” He doesn’t know that I wouldn’t want him to come anyway. The idea that Cliff and the others will be safely away from this place is one of my biggest consolations. After all we’ve been through, if there is going to be more danger I’d rather it be far away from them.
“We’ll see what we can do on this side of the gate anyway.” Cliff goes back to his food. I have little doubt that he will be stirring up trouble when he gets back. Whatever members of the chronothon committee he encounters are in for a rough time.
It’s not long before the major comes to collect me. He gives me a little privacy to make my goodbyes, but he lingers near the door and it’s clear he’s ready to get to work. My departure from the cafeteria is strained. I find myself staring at the table full of racers who have become my friends. I can’t think of a way to express the respect I have for them. I’m wished luck by each of my friends, but there is a brief moment when I’m standing at the end of the table when no one says anything at all. It’s that moment that says the most, and I’m grateful for it. Somehow in that silence I can feel the things that have gone unsaid. It’s a silence of shared respect bred from common experience. Words could never adequately sum up what we’ve been through together, and everyone has the good sense not to try.
I walk away from that table without any logical expectation of seeing them again, but things have not been decided yet. For me the future is still an unscripted story, and I mean to write it myself.
The major allows me the detour to my room to collect my things. Mym is looking at my log entries in the back of her dad’s journal when I enter the room. She looks up and smiles when she sees me.
“Will you h
ang onto that for me? Keep it safe?” I look over her shoulder at the book that contains so much of her father’s hard work.
“You might need it.” She closes the journal and holds it out to me.
I shake my head. “Hold onto it. I’ve got what I need.” I gather up Abraham’s satchel and my jacket. “I don’t want it ending up in the wrong hands.”
“Do you have an anchor to get back?”
“Milo said he’ll have something for me. Something from the nearest timestream.”
“And your chronometer charger?” Mym seems determined to make sure I’m prepared.
“Got it. I’ve got Abe’s tool kit, I’ve got your degravitizer, this handy gun . . .” I pick up the weapon I stole from the Zealot and double-check the safety. I stuff it in my bag with my other belongings.
Mym’s forehead is wrinkled in concern, but she nods. “Make sure you use it if you have to.” I’ve never known Mym to suggest violence as a solution to anything before, but as she steps closer I can almost feel her anxiety. “Do what you have to do to come back to me.”
I rest my forehead against hers and watch her run her hand across my chest. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
“You’d better be.” She lifts her head and kisses me quickly then, after pulling away for a second, thinks better of it and kisses me again, this time longer and with more intensity. “You have promises to keep.”
“I know I do.” I brush the hair away from her face and tuck it behind one ear. “Come on. The major’s waiting.”
Major McClure seems surprised to see Mym with me when I meet him in the basement. Milo and Kara are waiting with him near the elevator.
“I thought you would’ve had time to say your goodbyes already, Mr. Travers.”
In Times Like These Boxed Set Page 102
