Fractime Prophesy (Part 3)

by Steve Hertig

Chapter 26

  Minus: 12 Mar 2068

  John tried to look inconspicuous scanning the rendezvous attendees in the doorway to the side office. He hoped no one saw Tye and a very naked Higgs disappear a few seconds ago as the security personnel were now taking names and what looked to be a DNA identification sample from each attendee.

  He noticed the other attendees were starting to look nervous when a tap upon his shoulder made him jump.

  "It is Tye. Don't turn around."

  But it was too late. He was halfway around before she had tried to stop him.

  "Oops," John said facing one very naked Colonel Scott as Tye pulled him back into the office. His face warmed at the glimpse of Scott's body before she swiftly put a hand over his eyes. "This is unexpected to say the least," he said awkwardly.

  "Your turn and I've been looking for you," Scott said as Tye began quickly undressing him.

  "Hey. I can help," John said. He wondered which Jennifer Scott was watching Tye undress him. They obviously wanted to be somewhere besides Minus. In fact, he realized he was thrilled at the prospect just to be going anywhere.

  "Wont my clothes just fall off when we transit?" John asked.

  "They are mostly synthetic. You want second degree burns?" Tye said.

  "Just stand still," Scott said.

  "This isn't fair you know and where are we going?" he said blindly as he pushed each shoe off with the toes of the other foot.

  "What is with the secret police?" Tye whispered. "There seems to be two particularly interested in us and are heading this way. They must have seen us arrive."

  "I don't think I trust them," he said as he felt his socks pulled off.

  "Okay, hold my hands you two," Tye said.

  Prime: 4 July 1947

  "What's that smell?" John cringed with his eyes still covered. A piano was putting out some raucous ragtime close by.

  "That would be an Uncle Mick's cigar," Tye said as John got a brief glimpse of what looked like a storage room filled with beer barrels, whiskey bottles and crates of glasses as Tye's hand replaced Scott's.

  At least, its warm here, John thought trying to distract him from the uncomfortable position of standing both naked and blind.

  "Here are your clothes, Captain." Tye removed her hand, handed him a stack of clothes and then turned to face away. There was no sign of the green cloak; she now wore a simple calico shift.

  Scott, also in a dress, raised her eyebrows at him before she also turned to give him privacy.

  John recognized her as Jen from the subtle scar on her right cheek. "So anyone want to fill me in on what's going on?" The clothes were not his, but somehow his Fabiano boots where on top of the stack. They were civilian workingman's clothes. The jeans, worn thin on the knees, were comfortable and fit perfectly as did the red-checked flannel shirt.

  "Looks like an Earth scientist to me," Tye said looking him over when he was dressed.

  "Yeah. All I need is a beer," John said.

  "And a scotch would be good," Jen added.

  "A beer certainly can be arranged, but it will have to be an Irish whiskey," Tye said as she opened the storeroom door to reveal a barroom bash in full swing with the piano.

  A skinny kid wearing a straw hat was pounding the ivories in the far corner. He somehow slid effortlessly from ragtime to a Cab Calloway tune John recognized from Helen's old vinyl collection. Tables and chairs strewn around the parameter of the bar made room for folks doing what John thought must be the jitterbug.

  A stocky man in the center of the dancers smashed a glass into a fireplace. The resulting sparks briefly chased the jitterbugers and threatened to ignite the red, white and blue bunting hanging above the mantel.

  Tye headed for the bar, beckoning them to follow. Behind the bar stood the now obvious source of the stench, a cherry-red tipped stogy. Its rotund owner proudly rolled the cigar to the other side of his mouth as he pulled another pint. One more, suds rolling over its rim, waited on the bar along with a half-full glass of whiskey.

  "Uncle Mick!" Tye said leaning over the bar and then giving him a kiss on the cheek.

  "Darlin' Tye, you picked a good time to show up," he said and then clunked the last pint down on the bar with a laugh. He handed Jen the whiskey. "Here you go Sis. 25-year-old Midleton, my special reserve. You want some coffee to go with that?"

  "Thanks. Maybe later," Jen cooed, cradling the glass to her mouth. She took a deep whiff of the aromatic whiskey.

  Mick handed John and Tye a pint from the bar and then took the towel off his shoulder and handed it to a nun who took station behind the taps.

  "Jen Scott. John Mackinac," Tye said. "Meet my uncle, Mick O’Shanley."

  John shook the big man's big hand feeling a bit uncomfortable briefly, as Mick scrutinized his face. Jen gave Mick a peck on the cheek and got a gracious smile in return.

  "Sorry bother," Mick said directing them all to a nearby table, "no Guinness. The war and all."

  "The war? And how did you know?" John asked, wondering how he knew his fondness for Guinness as they all sat down.

  "You did not tell them?" Mick asked Tye.

  "Security and all that," she replied with a giggle.

  "Good girl," Mick said. And then, winking at John, he added, "And Tye placed your orders ahead of time so to speak." He laughed so hard he nearly bit through the stogy.

  Tye giggled again, and John caught a flash of an eye roll from Jen.

  "Welcome to O’Shanley's fourth of July party, 1947," Mick proclaimed with open arms as if to embrace the whole bar.

  Just then, a huge man threw open the thick wooden front doors and stumbled into the bar. "Big Gus O’Brian," Mick said watching the patron lurch past their table.

  O’Brian staggered up to the bar and tried adjusting the straps on his bib overalls. But he soon gave up, as it was obviously a much too complicated task to achieve in his present condition. He stared at the sister now pouring a large whiskey. "Is the bartender here?" he slurred.

  John took a drink of beer and then whispered to Jen, "Now that's one big termite."

  "Hope he's not going for the peanuts," Jen said.

  John knowing a straight line when he heard one, strained for the reply. "Yeah, they'd probably get a-salted," he said after a gulp of beer.

  "Boy, I like you brother." Mick laughed. "Excuse me for a sec," he said, gently laying the stogy in the table's ashtray to smolder and then going to the nun's rescue.

  Jen scrunched her nose and pushed the ashtray to the far side of the table.

  "What is that music?" O’Brian yelled at the nun while covering his ears. "You like that shit?"

  "I'm more into soul than swing," she replied matter of fact.

  Jen and John clanked glass to mug in salute to the sister.

  "Gus," Mick said standing behind him. "You owe the box a ten spot. No more drinks and by the look of it, you've had enough already."

  "He has had marriage troubles," Tye explained, "and he has not been the same since his brother was lost in the Pacific. Mick has been trying to help, but Gus can be a mean drunk."

  "Don't worry I've got the money," O’Brian slurred digging a ten dollar note from his top bib pocket. "Here," he said and flung the bill in the air. It did a loop and flittered squarely onto Mick's open hand.

  "Whoa. Did you see that?" Jen said.

  "You've got to be joking," John replied in awe.

  Holding the sawbuck up to a ceiling light, Mick said, "Gus, this bill is bogus."

  "It's not bug us," Gus slurred before he spewed his days drinking clear across the bar, drenching the nun, her hand trying in vain to protect a newly pulled beer.

  Mick grabbed him by the collar and turned Gus toward the door.

  John hoped door opened out as Mick pushed Gus in front of him with obviously no intention of slowing down.

  Gus hit the door head first with a loud crack. The thick door split right down the middle and then, completely off its hinges, fell in two pieces just outside as
Gus rolled into the small parking lot beyond.

  John could see Mick and several others, he guessed were regulars, through the doorway picking Gus up and helping him into the back of a Model-A to sleep it off. More patrons toasted the door from the middle of the room flinging their glasses into the fireplace producing a whoosh of flame from unfinished drinks.

  "Damn, 1940s hardware is so good." Mick laughed as he returned to the table. "Now I will have to get that fixed. You okay Sister Mary Margret?" he shouted to the holy bartender.

  She just nodded causing more vomit to trickle off her coif and then made her way to the storeroom with several folks trailing behind trying to wipe off her habit.

  "You guys should get some rest." Mick suggested just as Jen tried her best to conceal a yawn.

  "I'm fine," Jen said, still cradling the last of her whiskey.

  "Me too," John said finishing his beer and then pulling the other one in front of him. "What time is it?"

  "Almost 2300," Tye said. "It is early yet."

  Mick chuckled for seemingly no reason.

  "And?" Tye asked him.

  Mick leaned close to her. "The Ferengi crashed at Roswell a couple of hours ago."

  "You history buff." She blushed. "I cannot keep up with everything you know."

  "You do a great job for a middle sister." Mick said and gave her a bear of a hug.

  John looked at Jen. "He didn't say Ferrari, did he?" John whispered to her.

  "Nope," she said and then emptied her glass.

  Mick sat down straddling a chair. "We need to see the data Sis here has captured, but not here, not now. I have called a war council at the outpost."

  "As much as I am enjoying your Midleton," Jen said to Mick, "why then the post-war stop over?"

  "I can explain," Tye said. "You cannot exist in two fractimes at once. Well, you can, but the damage to the timeline is risky given the current degree of instability that exists in Prime. You both were not born yet, and I knew Uncle Mick was here now. And tonight's party is legendary."

  "But why are we here?" John asked.

  "Do not worry, we can leave tomorrow," Mick said standing up. "More drinks?" he asked with raised, bushy eyebrows over his shoulder as he headed back to the bar.

  "With coffee this time?" Jen said holding up her empty glass.

  "Same here. Thanks," John added, relaxing back into his chair.

  Mick returned with two glasses filled the coffee, Midleton, and one with soda and a twist of lemon for Tye. "Enjoy. Now if you excuse me, I have a bar needing tending."

  Tye, in high spirits, followed Mick back to the bar, leaving John and Jen to watch the ongoing festivities.

  "I'd love to get a peak at their family tree," John quipped watching Tye and Mick behind the bar. "Any idea where we are?" he asked.

  "What accents I can pick up, I'd say somewhere in Midwestern or maybe Northeastern US." Jen blew gently across the top of her steamy glass.

  "I thought racism was rampant in the forties," he said looking over the colorful crowd. "Think this place is still here in our time?"

  She took her first sip of the brew. Her shoulders slumped along with a contented sigh. "If it is, I'm coming back."

  The skinny kid on the piano picked up the tempo, filling the floor with more people; several shouted, "Go Benny! Go!"

  "What's that?" John asked looking at the smooth, lively moves.

  "Jive," Jen replied.

  Their eyes met. "You're different," he said and thinking better not to add 'from Jenny'.

  "Seems so," she replied, keeping his gaze.

  "That's good." They both said at once then grinned at each other.

  "Wow," they said together and then laughed aloud.

  Jen reached over and pressed her index finger to his lips. "Feel like cutting the ol' rug?"

  "It's been awhile," John said, "but yeah."

  Morning light streamed through the small dingy window in the room above the now quiet bar. The smell of fried bacon came from below as John watched Jen sleeping. He reached for his nearly empty glass with dregs of coffee floating in a bit of remaining Irish whiskey.

  "You're not going to drink that are you?" Jen said with her eyes still closed.

  "Just thinking I needed to make sure I am not dreaming."

  She rolled on top of him and gave him a sensuous kiss.

  "That settles it. I am dreaming." He laughed.

  "Oh you!" She sat up straddling him and gently poking his ribs repeatedly.

  "Breakfast is almost over," Tye called out from below and then climbed up the ladder to the loft. She poked her head through the opening with a wide smile then disappeared. "Better hurry." She giggled from below.

  They did not.

  Jen was first down the ladder. Following her, John saw a bar table covered with the remains of breakfast. Tye was wearing her green transit cloak. As well as simple grey pants and a well-worn Pittsburg Pirate's jersey, Mick wore cloak of the same material but a deeper green with golden highlights. He and sat cross-legged hovering just above his chair.

  "Good afternoon," John joked. "You're dressed for breakfast," he said to Mick and Tye as he sat down next to Jen.

  "Only the best for our guests, eh, brother." Mick laughed and slapped John on the back.

  Jen reached out and felt the material of Tye's cloak. "It's warm."

  "Amhrán and Turas Luath are primordial life forms," Mick said offering no more explanation and then taking a last bite of his toast.

  "I thought you couldn't wear the cloaks with clothes," John said.

  "Uncle Mick's special," Tye said with a chuckle but said no more.

  "So, what's the plan?" Jen asked.

  Although John was still curious about why they were in a bar somewhere in the Midwest in the late 1940s, he remained silent and focused on choosing bacon with just the right crispness followed by pouring Jen fresh coffee.

  "We leave for Trua Outpost as soon as you are ready." Tye said.

  "I'm ready," John said savoring the taste of Mick’s amazing coffee.

  "I'm almost ready." Jen took a long sip of her coffee, finishing it with a contented smile. "Okay, now I'm ready," she said then began quickly to undress. "You shy now?" she told John watching her.

  "Don't worry about me," he said, racing to pull off his jeans.

  When they had finished undressing, Tye took Jen's hand and Mick reached out and firmly grasped John's shoulder.

  RefPlane/Trua Outpost: Stardate 202432.87

  Instantly disoriented much worse than his first Pelee transit, John stumbled forward but Mick held a firm grip and steadied him.

  "Welcome to Trua Outpost," Mick said. "I will be right back with the rest of the war council," he added and then vanished.

  "We will have a few minutes before everyone arrives," Tye said, now wearing dark green fatigues. "And, I have your clothes for you both."

  "I'm fine," John quipped to Jen as he looked around at their surroundings. They were in a corner of a windowless room; a large table with seven chairs dominated the space.

  "Something more practical might be good." Jen giggled.

  "Tye, please tell me why I'm here," John said.

  "The Queen's orders."

  "Not the legend thing?"

  Tye nodded. "I am sorry I cannot explain further. Information must only travel upline," Tye said handing them fatigues from the table.

  Just as John and Jen finished dressing, Mick and two women appeared in the far corner. One was a middle-aged woman wearing a pale pink suit with a matching, colored scarf draped around her shoulders.

  The other woman was younger, wearing jeans and a Florida State tee shirt. John guessed she must be in her middle or late twenties. She had long, dark curls framing a beautiful face.

  "Jennifer and John meet my partner, the gracious Clare McPhee," Mick said pretentiously referring to the woman in the pink outfit. "And Ces Greenstone-Burnstein, a longtime friend of the Family."

  "Nice to meet you both," Clare said in
what John thought was a slightly exaggerated French-Canadian accent.

  "Likewise," Ces hastily added while staring at him and then looked quizzically to Mick who ignored her.

  John, feeling a bit uncomfortable in the scrutiny, noticed the young woman was holding a small, tablet.

  "Ces is third generation Family," Mick added quickly and with a touch of pride.

  "Thank you for helping us with the war," Jen told the unlikely looking war council. "And it's just Jen."

  "Sis, we have been doing this for a longtime so, a thank you is always appreciated," Mick said beaming.

  "Very tricky business," Clare added solemnly. "And excellent work on the Sojourn Dr. Mackinac."

  John looked embarrassed but was thankful she had correctly pronounced his name. "Thanks, but—"

  "We had some help," Jen said looking at Tye.

  "I've brought Luca," Ces said placing the tablet on the table.

  "Nice to meet you all," the tablet announced said. "Hello Mick and Clare, good to see you again."

  "Luca is AI," Ces said, "fifth gen."

  "Hi Luca," Mick said. "Glad to have you back."

  The tablet displayed a simple, smiley face on its small display and made the sound of an old doorbell.

  John saw Clare frown.

  "Auntie, you are still upset," Tye said confirming John's suspicions.

  "Nothing personal, Luca," Clare said, "but reviving you to work with Ces stretches several accords."

  "Aucune offense ma Madame," Luca said to a frown from Clare.

  "It is done. And I am glad she is here," Mick said sternly, cutting off the exchange.

  "Let us have a look at the images the colonel brought with her," Tye said changing the subject as Jen's pad materialized on the table in front of them.

  "Mind if Luca interfaces with your pad, Jen?" Ces asked.

  "Sure," Jen replied.

  "Done," Luca said. "One AV file in question is very short, only several milliseconds."

  "Let us hope good things do come in small packages," Clare said. "Jen, please begin."

  Mick added, "Tye has briefed us on the mission overview."

  Jen activated the pad's projector. "The first images are from a Chinese recon rover," she explained. "They provide a star fix and capture an unknown ship attacking the enemy hub." She zoomed in on the small stealth ship as it gracefully maneuvered and fired at the complex below, then froze the display showing the ships identification.

  "A Time Corps time shuttle," Mick said.

  "Most curious," Clare said as a cup of tea appeared in her hand.

  "USS Forever-G operated from several reference-plane mother ships during the 29th century," Luca said. "This specific mission is not listed in Time Corps logs."

  "Not surprising," Mick added.

  "But why is it there then?" Ces asked.

  "My question exactly," Jen said. "Too coincidental."

  "What exactly is a Reference Plane?" John asked, almost missing Mick giving Tye the slightest of nods.

  "The Reference Plane can be different depending on the mission or context," Tye explained. "But using the metaphor of fractal geometry- a point on a fractal element, representing an individual fractime can be connected to similar points of twin fractal elements by a line. You travel back and forth from these points along this line when you make a transit with TRs. Debate surrounds the nature of the apparent separation of these points or fractimes. But nonetheless, we define this primal linearity as a discrete sector and because this course is infinite in length, we can arbitrarily choose a reference within the sector as a datum. That would be simply the Reference Plane or just RefPlane."

  This was the Tye John was used to working with: matter of fact and slightly verbose in order to make sure she omitted no critical detail. It appealed to his scientific self.

  "Thanks Spock," he said with a grin then jumped as he felt a familiar brush against his leg.

  Clare choked as daintily as possible on her tea.

  "Who?" Mick said startled.

  "Damn," Tye said sheepishly.

  Mick, Clare and Ces were all looking at him, but he had his head under the table and was eye-to-eye with what looked like an American shorthair cat. It tried to jump into his lamp forcing him to bump his head coming up from under the table.

  "You know," he said rubbing to top of his head. "Star Trek, the old TV show and movies."

  "Oh my," Clare said, "not twentieth-century television."

  "Dotty!" Ces exclaimed and then gave John a big smile.

  John tried to ignore the now loudly purring cat making the second circuit around his lap it what John guessed was its pre-sleep routine. "Klingons, starships, 'beam me up Scotty'. It's a classic," he said.

  "Klingons." Mick chuckled. "Got to love those guys."

  "What are you talking about?" Jen asked.

  "It's just fiction," John said. "Isn't it?"

  "She was so stubborn, eh Tye?" Clare said.

  "You talk about our dead queen that way?" Tye said defensively.

  "I talk about my sister that way, niece," Clare said firmly. "And putting things into a writer's ear is not following family doctrine."

  "We are making a stand at the Reference Plane," Tye said. "And lives in the surrounding fractimes could be saved, if motivated. And she really liked Eugene and Eileen."

  "So she gave future concepts, as vague and inaccurate as they were, to another fractime," Mick said with crossed arms.

  "Not exactly," Tye said. "It was only fiction to them. Inspiring fiction, but still fiction."

  "Leave it to you to stir the pot," Jen whispered to John.

  John cleared his throat, and the others fell silent. "I guess nothing should surprise me after all this. Aliens, starships—"

  "Oh my," Clare repeated nearly losing her grasp on her teacup, "how many other authors did she infect?"

  "I assume the Star Trek fiction is real in other fractimes?" Jen asked.

  "More or less," Ces said cautiously, "and Dotty really likes you," she said to John.

  "Mainly less," Clare said. "However, there is a planet called Vulcan within the Confederation of Humanity and its inhabitants are very real."

  The cat was now purring loudly in John's lap and kneading his stomach with both front paws.

  "Dotty lives on the outpost- mostly," Ces said, "but she can be naughty."

  "She just needs to stay out of medical," Clare said with a scowl at the cat.

  "Do you have a relationship with a feline, Doctor?" Ces asked.

  "I was adopted by a Maine Coon tom, Angstrom, about eight years ago," he replied growing more embarrassed by Dotty's affection.

  "Getting back to business and in this case," Luca injected sternly, "that Reference Plane is the fractime you call Minus."

  "Yikes," Jen muttered.

  "I could use a drink," John said at the notion Prime as well as Minus was the focus of attention for these travelers.

  "Doc," Mick said, "we get through this and a perfect keg of Guinness is all yours."

  Clare sighed. "Continue please, Jen."

  Jen activated the next file on her pad. "This is the end of a short sequence viewed from flying nano-drones within the hub complex." The image changed to the room with the empty platform in its center. Higgs' bugs were busy flitting around the platform then the image went white then black. "The last sequence is a time-zoomed excerpt from the last segment," Jen said as the suited figure appeared on the platform and the image froze.

  "Keepers," Mick said loathingly. "Goodlife."

  "I always thought the machines could be behind the war," Clare said.

  John looked at the pitted suit. It looked like patina brass, but he thought that unlikely.

  "Note the drone that the Keeper has appeared under has attached itself to the helmet." Jen pointed out. "They are programmed to infiltrate given the opportunity."

  "Nice programming," Luca added.

  The image went white then black again.

  "Not much to
work with," Mick said.

  "There's more," Luca added.

  "Yes," Jen said. "The drone lost contact as did the rest, but it was not destroyed with the others. We believe the suit protected it. The keeper made transit out of the attack only to reappear in what we think is another part of the same complex, but we can't be sure. Only it went somewhere else first."

  "Somewhere?" John asked.

  "Here," Jen said as she displayed the image of the dodecahedron ship.

  Mick and Clare said nothing looking at the ship, but clutched each other's hand.

  "Embedded telemetry indicates the object is approximately three thousand meters in diameter," Luca said breaking the silence.

  "That's big," John said, stating the obvious.

  Jen poked him.

  "It is old," Mick said.

  "One of the first." Clare agreed.

  "There is more," Tye said. "Look at the surrounding star field."

  Jen reduced the image to get a full view.

  "What star field?" Ces said.

  "Exactly," Tye replied.

  "Null space," Luca said, "would be consistent with available data."

  Clare moaned.

  "Yup," Mick added, staring at the colossal ship.

  "What is it?" John asked, pointing to the dodec and trying to remember what minerals shared its form. Pyrite and garnet came to mind, but he thought there must be others.

  "It was made by an ancient race from the early universe," Tye said, "Simply put it's a doomsday weapon bent on destroying all organic life. They have besieged our galaxy for countless centuries and goodlife, including the keepers, are their organic servants."

  An involuntary shiver racked John to his core.

  "Tye, have you had any time to think about a profile for this thing? And how can it exist in null space?" Mick asked.

  "I have developed a preliminary profile, and it ties a few bits together," she said. "The damage to its structure is extensive."

  "I estimate damage to critical systems could be up to 70 percent," Luca added.

  Tye nodded. "I believe the severe damage has caused the machine to enlisted goodlife in the form of the Leadership to wage the war on its behalf. The machine provides guidance in the form of strategy and tactics by way of the Leadership's war tome we know as the Prophesy and obviously direct communication from at least one keeper."

  "It makes sense how conventionally the war has been fought. It did not have the resources," Mick said.

  "Maybe it is dying," Clare said staring at the blast holes covering much of the ship.

  "So humanity formed a truce for millennia with a colossal refrigerator to assist in its own destruction," John said distastefully.

  "As to how it exists in null space is a mystery," Tye continued. "A static warp field protecting the surrounding area could explain the keeper's emergency transit outside the dodec but the energy drain would be severe."

  "Jen," Luca said, "I see raw data fragments on your pad filed as the Prophesy. May I investigate please?"

  "By all means," Jen said, "but there is one more image to see." She advanced the image to the last frame. The bug showed the side of the keeper's helmet while facing a doorway framing the outline of a blurry human figure. The image when black again. "That's it."

  Luca's doorbell rang softly again. "I have been able to process the nano-flyer data stream. Their optics has a magnificent resolution for their size." Luca projected an image of the dodec from the tablet. It zoomed for several seconds, finally getting a close look at a pentagonal face of the dodec.

  "Widmanstätten," John said seeing the crisscrossing lineaments on the pentagonal faces. "Those patterns on the hull look like the crystallography of a polished and etched slab of meteorite."

  Luca kept zooming on one point until a window appeared silhouetted with a man standing next to a smaller squat shape. "Analyses cannot identify the humanoid but the other could be Calma at 73 percent probability." The image changed to the unclear figure in the doorway of the enemy hub. "And I've been able to reconstruct the facial features of this person." The blurred image constricted and cleared. It was a balding middle-aged man.

  "Lutzger!" John said.

  Jen looked at him in disbelief.

  "You know him?" Clare said shocked.

  "He was a Leadership asset in Prime," John replied, "I'm not sure of his exact connections."

  "The Prophesy seems to be trans-universal given the temporal contradictions present in these data," Luca reported. "That would be possible from null space, and I have identified a citation in the Prophesy referring to Lutzger or at least his image. It refers to him as cull master."

  "Does not sound good for the goodlife," Tye said.

  "Who cares? They're traitors," Jen said.

  "The Leadership, yes," Tye explained. "But historically, these machines have forced humanity into slavery either for its own purposes or for those of high-ranked goodlife. The cull master can deal life or death to innocent or guilty at his whim."

  John thought about the two silhouettes on the dodec staring out into the void of null space.

  "The machine's profile suggests that after the Sojourn, it will leave the sector and begin the war again, but this time more efficient with previous knowledge gained. The chances that another Sojourn can be repeated in the next sector are slim."

  "Less than .0132 percent," Luca added.

  "Then this is where it must end," Mick proclaimed.

  "The time to fulfill the legend is upon us," Clare said regally.

  John groaned.

  Jen put her hand on his knee and squeezed gently.

  "Null space complicates things," Mick said solemnly.

  "We, as Family," Tye explained to John and Jen, "will not be able to transit or translate into null space for that long."

  John looked around at the unlikely war council wondering if trying saving the universe was always so individual. "Why us?" he said grasping Jen's hand.

  She squeezed back.

  "Who else?" Clare replied and then finished her tea.

  "We need a plan," Jen said.

  "Luca, any ideas how to destroy that thing?" Ces asked.

  "There are several techniques available to disable it, but we do not currently have the resources to destroy it in null space," she reported.

  John looked around the group again as calmness washed over him. "We need a keeper suit to gain access to the dodec. Luca, please rank the techniques you mentioned in order and taking to account the team assembled and resources available. Let's hear number one," he requested.

  "Probabilistically," Luca said, "the first two are indistinguishable. Centralized processors should make deterministic decisions for all functions onboard. In later machines, their core commonly holds an isotope that provides random outputs within certain predetermined constraints for all their decisions, thus providing them with a degree of unpredictability. Take out the isotope and the machine's brain gets instant dementia. Another option is to destroy the goodlife's life support. Given the dodec's damage, its eventual end would be a certainty.

  "And the end of all good and bad life," Ces said.

  "Okay," John said, "at least we have some choices."

  "Of course," Luca added, "if there is a static warp field protecting the ship, disabling that would mean instant dissipation of all energy contained within the field."

  "Options are good," Jen added. "And I guess that means back to Taklamakan. But there could be another way to destroy the ship," she said looking at John, "the captured nano weapon. Higgs made a stopover in Prime and picked it up." She leaned over and poked John in the ribs.

  "Damn," he yelped.

  "I forgot. That's from Jenny," Jen said adding a devilish smile.

  "Using their weapon against them. I like it," Mick said ignoring them.

  "Some further reprogramming by Rodney may be needed." Tye said reflectively. "I'll see what I can do before deployment."

  John scanned the silent group hoping for more i
deas.

  "I would recommend a full-spectrum inoculation before boarding the dodec," Luca suggested.

  "Could Luca go along?" Ces asked. "She could be a real asset onboard with alien tech. Mission-critical components could be integrated into a subdural com unit."

  "Good idea," Mick said. "And it seems a tour of the outpost's armory and medical facility is in order."

  Tye straightened her posture and looked at Jen and then John. "Okay, just to summarize- you two go to the enemy's China hub. Find and then steal a couple of billions of years-old transit suits. Determine how they work. Transit to the dodec. Determine where the isotope or warp-field generator is located, disable its security systems, and somehow deactivate it. And if that will not work, you locate and destroy the goodlife's life support and probably really piss off the machine in the process."

  "Sounds right," Jen said.

  "Couldn't have said it better," John added. "Anyone have any other ideas?"

  Luca broke the silence. "The fact the keeper's suit appeared ancient may imply few are in service. So, it would be consistent with the facts," she said, "that other translation means exist given the large number of Leadership personnel required for a new sector's war effort."

  Tye sighed but remained silent.

  Luca's doorbell rang three times in succession.

  "Oh boy," Ces said with a worried look.

  "I'm sorry; I have some rather bad news," Luca said. "My analysis of the Prophesy indicates citations are exponentially decreasing from the future side."

  "And this means what?" Clare asked.

  "If the trend continues, it seems to represent the end of citations being entered is coming," Luca said.

  "That could mean we are successful with one of our plans." Tye said hopefully.

  "Or we fail and everything is destroyed in the process," Jen said recalling the threat of erasure still looming over them.

  "Or the machine will leave the sector," Mick said. "Whichever way, we had better get John and Jen back to Earth."

  "Luca, any idea how long we have?" John asked.

  Luca's smiley face frowned. "Roughly sixty-two hours, plus or minus a couple of hours, assuming you arrive back in Plus with Tye and Amhrán at the instant after you left," she replied.

  Mick got up from the war council's table to stand next to Jen and John. "We had better see if we can even the odds in the armory," he said grasping their shoulders.

  John, instantly disorientated, felt wobbly on his feet. But Jen was already peering into one of many crates surrounding them.

  "The armory," Mick explained, "is a store of mainly confiscated weaponry. There's not much in the way of an inventory list, but feel free to look around."

  "It would take years to go through all this," John said looking down an offsetting corridor to its dark and distant vanishing point and realizing just how large the armory was.

  "A good PDW is all I need," Jen said, "But the mountain needs some real fire power."

  "All the alien big stuff is disabled- family rules," Mick said with a frown. "But this corridor holds short and long barrel conventional projectile systems, but there are a few small, specialty energy weapons around here somewhere."

  "Sounds interesting," John said opening a crate.

  "I prefer something more personal," Jen said withdrawing a long, blue-bladed combat knife from a sheath she found on a crate.

  John could not help but stare at her as she inspected the sleek, glowing weapon. Everything about the look of it spelled death.

  "Careful there Sis," Mick said taking the blade off her. "This here is a Narian entropy blade. You would not know it by looking at this but the Narians are pacifists, but that is a relatively recent trait. An ancient Narian sect created these blades because their warrior neighbors, the Dorians, tended to get out of line every now and then. As the Narians are practically blind, and despite their telepathic abilities, they must have felt they needed an edge."

  John tried to suppress a chuckle but failed.

  Mick sheathed the knife and handed it back to Jen with a wink. "One touch is deadly. You could probably even take down an adult Rorq. Not sure how it works, some kind of entropy technology I think."

  "I'll take it," Jen said.

  John didn't bother asking what a Rorq was.

  Mick pointed down a line of crates stretching into the distance, "We got quite a few smart-round scope systems. Intelligent 50 calibers with matching scopes for distant target identification."

  "How distant?" John asked.

  "I think the effective range is almost five klicks assuming a fast-mobile target," Mick said. "Stationary, probably more."

  "Now that's what Carl's militia could use," Jen said. "We'll take the whole lot."

  "If we are to transit in a keeper suit," John said looking into more crates, "we should keep things manageable."

  Mick picked up a small crate and opened the lid to show them the contents.

  "Phased pistols." Jen beamed. "And in all sizes with extra power units." She picked up a palm-sized version. "We'll take the box," she said looking to John for agreement.

  "Sounds good to me," he said, "but I assume they're called phasors." He looked at Mick, who just materialized a smoldering cigar out of thin air.

  Mick just chuckled through a broad grin. "Their power units are magnum spec, so they will have a reduced recharge rate but will still offer a more than a couple of hundred shots and should easily vaporize a mech. And I’ll be sure this weaponry will be waiting for you back on earth."

  He touched their shoulders.

  John caught himself before stumbling into Jen next to an ornate clock outside the medical facility at the intersection of several hallways presumably leading to other parts of the outpost.

  "Nice timepiece," John said.

  "Looks important," Jen added.

  "The Family's mission clock," Mick explained. "It sometimes is hard to tell the time without one," he added as an elderly woman appeared at the entrance of the medical facility.

  "You're early," she said with a scowl while fanning the stench of Mick's cigar away with both hands

  "Hello, Dr. Fanau," Mick said as he stubbed the cigar out on the bottom of his boot before the smoldering stogy disappeared. "I hope that is not a problem," he said coyly.

  Dr. Fanau was obviously displeased. She ignored Mick and handed John and Jen hospital gowns from a nearby shelf.

  John looked at the plain, green gown covered with tiny, half-full hourglasses and wondered if he'd ever see his old, field boots again.

  "We can wait a bit," Jen offered, pulling John aside as they changed into the gowns.

  "Now Sis, do not go rushin' things," Mick said with a wink. "Dr. Fanau, this is a priority one mission scan, subdural com as per specs you have by now and full-spectrum inoculation."

  "Why didn't I hear about this?" she asked.

  "But you are now, Dr. Fanau," Mick replied graciously. "You are prepared for this eventuality," he said scanning the small space of the med facility.

  "Of course, don't worry," she said. "I'll have them back to you in twenty minutes, but you must sanction certain protocol overrides."

  "Sol minutes?" Mick asked, grinning.

  "Of course," she said flatly.

  "You guys have fun," Mick said. "I will be back in a few minutes."

  John looked around the austere facility and frowned. He did not like hospitals in general.

  And as Dr. Fanau began entering inputs on a nearby station, Jen whispered to John, "Tye told me Clare was the former queen's identical twin. Apparently, twins are very rare in the Family and identical twins are practically unheard of. Anyways, Clare abdicated the throne leaving her twin, as queen when she left with Mick on a personal mission."

  John leaned close to her. "What kind of personal mission?"

  "Some kind of galactic social work and helping humanity save 'the' or 'a' universe now and then," Jen whispered back. "I'm not sure which. But they seem even more distrusting of the Tim
e Corps than the rest of the Family. Tye sits on the fence. It's tough on her."

  Dr. Fanau startled them as she pulled a semi-transparent, two-dimensional screen out of thin air in front of them. "So, you're both on old man O’Shanley's side?" she asked.

  "We're the good guys," John affirmed.

  Dr. Fanau peered through the screen at him. "Does he try to be funny often?"

  "Not nearly enough," Jen said trying hard not to laugh.

  "Okay, it's the works then," Dr. Fanau said, quickly brushing her fingers over the station's screen. "Stand within the circle just there," she said pointing to her left at a group of different colored shapes imprinted on the floor.

  John and Jen each selected a circle, and the screen reported an error with aloud buzz.

  "Not white circles, a green, family circle," Dr. Fanau clarified, not looking up from the screen.

  "We must be special," John added, moving to a green circle.

  Now within reach, Jen poked him in the ribs again.

  "The implants and full inoculations are complete. Any mission adds?" Dr. Fanau asked.

  "Implants?" John asked.

  "Adds?" Jen asked.

  "Don't worry," Dr. Fanau said while looking at John, "med-tech nanos, standard issue in machine AI cases." She looked over to Jen and winked.

  John said, "Oh, we don't need any mission ad—"

  Jen poked him again.

  "Hey, don't make that a regular thing," he said rubbing his ribs.

  "Dr. Fanau, What you got?" Jen asked. "I'm assuming you mean mission specific."

  "Yes, mission type?" the doctor inquired.

  John wondered what the mission was. Kill a multi-billion year-old AI-ship and save the universe? Jen must be pondering the same thing, as she didn't have an answer either.

  "There are many categories," Dr. Fanau continued, "I might be able to point you in the right direction."

  "She'd have to kill you if she told you," John finally blurted while protecting the tender spot between two ribs.

  "Behave," Jen said. "I'm sorry Dr. Fanau. Can you just show us what's available?"

  "Sure. Have at it," she said as semi-transparent screens appeared in front of them. "Remember only one and most only last a few months. Mick will be back in a few minutes. Good luck on your mission." She disappeared.

  "Things and people pop in and out everywhere around here," John said. "It's getting creepy."

  "Look at all this stuff!" Jen said ignoring him. "There are tons of items on this listing. Damn. And we can pick only one thing. How will we choose?"

  "There's every language imaginable and look, even Klingon." John said.

  "You mean you can take a pill and speak another language?" She shook her head. "That's crazy."

  "Not a pill, just select it and touch 'Done'. Did you read the instructions?"

  "What instructions?" she asked. "Never mind, how will we choose? Oh, there're music, and scientific disciplines, history and more martial arts than I knew existed. The list is endless," Jen said. "What do we need in China? Mandarin?"

  "Stop," John said. "What do you personally want? For the mission or otherwise. The rest will work out. Trust me."

  "Remind me to kiss you soon," she said.

  "Rodger that," he replied as he made a selection on his screen.

  "Got your pick?" Jen asked.

  "Yep."

  "Me too. Done," she said tapping the selection confirmation as Dr. Fanau returned, but now seated behind her desk.

  "Back to the circles," she said waving an index finger at the green outlines on the floor, "Almost done, just the final beatha treatment and add activation."

  John mouthed 'what?' to Jen who just shrugged her shoulders as they took their places and then promptly dematerialized.

  "Very creepy," John said noticing he was naked again.

  I agree, Luca said with a giggle inside his head.

  "Luca, you're a very empathetic AI," Jen commented.

  "You heard her?" John asked.

  "We're all wired for stereo," Luca explained to them both, "But unfortunately you can't hear each other out of earshot- an effect of my present limitations."

  John's mind turned to some privacy issues with Luca as he looked at a very naked Jen just as Mick materialized next Dr. Fanau.

  "We're done," Jen said.

  "And with adds," John said.

  Mick laughed. "They can have interesting and unexpected side effects." Mick put his arms around them in preparation to leave the outpost and then said with a wink, "How do you think Clare got the accent?"