by Lauren James
She looked for anything on the walls that could feasibly be a circuit box. Halfway up the stairs she’d just come down and hidden behind a fire extinguisher was a small metal door. She pulled the extinguisher off the wall and tried to open the door.
“It’s locked,” she hissed. Then she remembered that Tom’s Swiss army knife was in her bag, and quickly unscrewed the hinge with the screwdriver attachment.
Feeling around inside the box, she found the circuit board that must control the building’s lighting and security system − and hopefully the lock on the door to the laboratory. Eventually her fingers found a socket that might fit a memory card. She slotted it into place. If Spart could connect to the network, he’d be able to hack into the system and gain control of the whole building.
“Work your magic, Spart.”
A bright green light shone from inside the electrical box as he connected with the network. She stared at her watch, hoping for a message.
> … loading …
It was the most computer-y message she’d ever had from Spart. She stared at the lab door and willed his virtual lock-picking to work, preferably before someone came and found her kneeling beside a broken electrical box.
Without warning, the keypad on the door above the lab lit up red, then yellow, and finally green. A message from Spart appeared on the screen: HELLO CLOVE. The door clicked open.
She drew a hand through her hair, relieved. She ran to tug open the door, only just remembering to remove the memory card from the circuit box first. She didn’t have time to close the panel that hid the board or to replace the fire extinguisher on the wall, but hopefully by the time anyone noticed it, it would be too late to stop her.
The lab was pitch-black. “Turn on the lights, Spart,” she whispered. She didn’t want to raise her voice until she was sure she was alone. A graduate student might be napping in the camp bed in the corner of the lab. But when the lights flickered on, she was on her own.
Stepping over lines of cables duct-taped to the floor, she walked to the computer, her footsteps echoing in the cavernous basement. When she sat down at the desk, alarms immediately shrieked in her ears. Clove jumped up from the seat.
“What did I do?” she asked, heart racing in her chest. “Spart?”
It was only after several seconds that she realized she’d turned Spart back to silent mode. She flicked him into talk mode again.
> The noise is a fire alarm. When you left the extinguisher off the wall, it set off an automatic warning.
“Well, shut it off, then,” she hissed.
> I am unable to obtain access to that system.
“You’re useless,” she said in outrage, and sat back down. “We’d better work fast.”
She reached around the back of the main computer system to plug the memory card into the USB port, so that she could hook Spart up. The memory card was the biggest one she had, which was good, because if he ran out of memory before he could bring her back to the present, then she’d be stuck in the past. For ever. She wasn’t too worried about that, though – it was completely impossible that this would work at all.
Within seconds he was uploaded, and a message was waiting for her on the main monitor.
> The evidence indicates that you’re useless.
Clove opened up the program for the time machine, and tapped on the diagram of the particle accelerator like Tom had shown her. She started inputting the settings for 1745 and the location of Carlisle, England – which was where the documents that Spart had compiled showed Matthew and Katherine as being at that time. Spart’s Folios had talked about some sort of battle between the Scottish and English over the monarchy, but she hadn’t had time to read up on it yet. She’d have to do some research if this worked.
She set the size of the wormhole to be large enough for her to enter it, and the duration of the opening to fifteen seconds, which she thought would give her enough time to get inside.
She checked over her code three times to make sure she hadn’t made any mistakes. When she was sure everything was ready, she tried to turn on the machine. The program asked her for an authentication password, just as she’d expected. Clove wished she had paid closer attention when Tom had been typing it in. At least it was numerical, which made it a little easier. She only had to choose the right six numbers.
What could it be? Clove tried to think what Tom and Jen might use as a code. Her mind was suddenly blank.
Without hope, she tried Jen’s birthday.
Nothing.
She tried Tom’s. She tried the year that Tom and Jen had met, at St Andrews University.
Nothing.
The screen flashed up with a warning: if she entered another wrong password, the system would automatically shut down and the alarm would be raised.
Clove felt a hot flush of panic go right through her. Maybe it was better to let Spart try and override the system, however unlikely it was that he could do it. Clove bit her lip. Could she risk taking another guess? She had one more idea, something that was unlikely to work. It couldn’t be the answer. But if it was…
Clove took a deep breath and, preparing herself to run if the alarms sounded, she entered the six digits of her birthday. She squeezed her eyes shut, too afraid to look, muscles tensed.
Around her, the particle accelerator came to life with a hum. She opened her eyes to see a satisfying array of flashing lights.
Clove couldn’t move. She felt like she’d been kicked in the throat. The password of the time machine was her birthday?
Tom and Jen really did think of her as their daughter.
On the screen a loading bar appeared. It slowly climbed from 0% to a full bar, as the accelerator prepared for operation.
> CLOVE, you need to put on the suit before you enter the chamber.
“Suit?”
> An email on the system says that a protective suit must be worn by all humans who come into contact with the wormhole. It should be here somewhere.
Clove remembered how, as a child, she’d watched the flower rot and die because of radiation poisoning. She definitely didn’t want that to happen to her.
“I can’t find a suit!” she cried, beginning to search the lab.
Spart replied from her watch.
> You need the suit. You will not survive the journey without it. It blocks the radiation.
Clove tried to quell her rising panic. The fire alarms were still ringing furiously. Someone would hear them soon. She was running out of time. Where would a suit be stored? Again, she looked around the room frantically. Finally, she spotted a storage trunk by the entrance.
After running over, she pulled up the lid and found a thick grey plastic package inside. She tore into it with her fingernails, ignoring her shaking hands, to find a bright orange suit of the kind that astronauts wore. It was enormous, and thick with padded reinforcement. She pulled it on over the top of her clothes and rucksack, then tugged the helmet over her head. She couldn’t believe she was doing this. Everything was happening so fast.
As Clove was crossing back to the computer, fastening the front of the radiation suit, the door to the lab swung open, hitting the wall with a metallic clang. Clove spun around, and found herself looking at a surprised security guard. Instinctively, she jolted into a run, trying to ignore the heavy weight of the spacesuit as she sprinted over to the computer.
“Stop where you are!” the security guard shouted.
On the screen, the loading bar was at 99%. There was a colossal noise coming from the wormhole chamber: a sucking sound like an enormous vacuum cleaner. She could hear it even over the fire alarm.
> CLOVE, RUN. GO.
There was no time to hesitate. She ignored the shouting guard and ran to the chamber, shoving her hands inside the suit’s gloves at the same time. When she thumped the OPEN button on the time machine, its door slid open with aching slowness. She skittered through into the interior chamber, where the wormhole was a burnt white, twisting void.
The sec
urity guard was staring at her in horror as the door slid shut behind her.
Clove felt overwhelmed with panic. What was she doing? This was crazy. She considered diving back out to safety. Surely being arrested was a better option than whatever was going to happen next?
A message from Spart appeared on her watch.
> 1745 awaits. Good luck.
It was too late to reconsider. In front of her, the wormhole vibrated, just slightly. Clove reached out to it with tentative fingers. She’d barely touched it when it tugged on her with a huge unstoppable force. She was flung like a doll into the blinding white light, heat and darkness flashing across her vision. Wind pushed her in every direction, but it felt like she wasn’t moving at all.
The wind stopped.
The lights stopped.
There was silence.
Location: Wormhole Investigation Laboratory, Physics Department, University of St Andrews, Scotland
Timestamp: 22 July 2056 00:17:01–00:26:34 GMT
00:17:01: SECURITY GUARD stands in the centre of the laboratory. He is staring at the time machine, which glows a bright white that is slowly getting dimmer.
SECURITY GUARD
(under his breath)
What the…?
00:17:47: SECURITY GUARD takes a step towards the time machine. He stops and reconsiders.
SECURITY GUARD
(shaking his head)
I don’t get paid enough for this.
00:18:15: GUARD leaves the laboratory.
00:25:57: GIRL, with blonde hair and thick black eyeliner, enters the laboratory. She stares at the time machine. Then she sits down at the computer desk and reads the screen.
GIRL
(quietly, to herself)
The tenth of September, seventeen forty-five? OK. Sure.
GIRL pushes back her sleeve and presses a button on her wrist. White light exudes from her skin, flashing and moving like the wormhole in the time machine. The light surrounds GIRL. When it dies down, she has disappeared.
00:26:34: The laboratory is empty.
END OF FOOTAGE
File note: Transcript of footage from CCTV Camera 38 at the University of St Andrews, Scotland, from 22 July 2056
PART
TWO
CHAPTER 13
StAPD • Initial Incident Report – Restricted (when complete)
Page 1/1
ST ANDREWS POLICE DEPARTMENT
Initial Incident Report
Case number: 00-24601
Location: University of St Andrews
Date: 22 July 2056 00:22
Incident:
At 12.22 a.m. officers responded to a call from a security guard in the School of Physics, who reported a break-in. He claimed that a young girl, roughly 5’3” and wearing a bright orange jumpsuit, had disappeared into a huge, whirling hole in the basement.
Action taken:
Investigating officer found no sign of a break-in.
CJ Act 1964, S.9; MC Act 1980 SS. 5A(3)(a) and 5B; Criminal Procedure Rules 2012, part 22
File note: St Andrews police report, dated 22 July 2056
Clove lay still for a long time trying to summon up the courage to open her eyes. She couldn’t hear anything. She couldn’t feel her body. She could smell the plastic of her suit, which meant she was still alive, probably. She watched the spiralling patterns of light on the back of her eyelids: circling and sparking in the dim pink. Phosphenes, bright and sharp as fireworks. Her head felt numb.
Carefully, she tried bending a finger. It tingled as the inside of her glove brushed her skin. She opened her eyes. White flooded her vision, resolving into a blindingly bright blue. Through the visor of her helmet, she could see brightness, scattered in thick reflections through the blue, moving and refracting overhead. A flock of birds fluttered past in the sunlight, and then she realized they weren’t birds at all, but a shoal of fish. Was she under water?
She struggled to move, but the heavy suit weighed her down, pressing her into what she now realized must be the rocky bed of a river. Clove tried to kick up to the surface. She rose a little, but her suit was too heavy, and she immediately sank downwards, knocking her helmet on a rock. Her vision blurred.
Clove swayed in the current, staring at a slime-covered pebble and trying to calm the painful reverberations echoing across her skull. She could feel herself breathing faster, but the air didn’t seem to be working the way it should. She was going dizzy. The air trapped inside her suit must be running out of oxygen. She was going to suffocate if she couldn’t get out of the water and take off her helmet.
She pulled her knees up, ignoring the pain in her head, and tried to push off the bottom again. After several minutes of frantic effort, she managed to reach the surface. There was a clump of reeds within reach, so she grabbed onto it with both fists, clouds of silt dirtying the water as she moved.
A startled toad swam at her helmet. It bounced off and jumped away onto the riverbank. She watched it go, wishing she could do the same. She desperately tried to summon up the energy to pull herself ashore. Just the thought of it made her dizzy. Her eyes drifted shut, but she forced them open. She stared at the sky and tried not to slip back under the water.
As she watched, an angel appeared. Glowing gold, it reached down to pull her out of the water and onto the riverbank. The angel tugged on the straps of Clove’s helmet and removed it. Fresh air rushed in.
After a few deep breaths, Clove’s head stopped spinning and she could take in her rescuer.
It was Meg.
“Meg?” she choked out, amazed. Meg had found her. Somehow she’d saved her. She’d come to take her home.
Meg’s golden blonde hair seemed to sparkle in the sunlight. It swelled and glowed, making everything else fuzzy and smeared in comparison.
“Definitely not,” Clove thought she heard Meg say, as her vision went cloudy and she let herself sleep, just for a second.
> CLOVE?
> CLOVE, wake up. We need to go.
> CLOVE?
* * *
Clove opened her eyes with a jolt, automatically fighting against the water that was tugging her down towards the deep, black depths, before she realized she was safe on dry land, and it was just a dream.
She rolled onto her back and looked up at the leaves of an overhead tree. Birds were chattering noisily to each other in its branches, and there was a red tinge to the sky that made her think it was early morning. She was alone.
She blinked, trying not to cry. Carefully, the movement sapping all of her energy, Clove struggled to sit up. She thought about standing, and then reconsidered. She was still wearing the radiation suit. The orange plastic was even heavier now that it was wet. Clove pulled off her gloves and unbuttoned the suit, then shrugged it off her shoulders and slid out of it. She immediately felt more alive.
She sat on the grassy bank and glared at the suit. It may have saved her from radiation poisoning, but it had almost made her suffocate underwater, because she’d been unable to swim to land. Her parents would never have found out what had happened to her. The thought made her shudder.
She had been pretty lucky. If she hadn’t managed to grab the bank and pull herself out, who knows what would have happ— Clove’s thoughts stuttered.
Had she pulled herself out of the water?
That didn’t sound right.
She seemed to remember … something. Someone. Pulling her out of the river.
Or had that just been a dream?
She could have sworn it had been Meg grabbing her arms and tugging her onto dry land. But surely that couldn’t be right.
Could it?
Clove shrugged off the thought. She had more important things to worry about, anyway – like where she was. She had set the time machine to take her to the centre of Carlisle on 10 September 1745, but somehow she had arrived in the middle of a river instead of the city. Who knew what else had gone wrong, or even what year it was?
The river cut through a cornfield. Bri
ght gold crops filled a rolling landscape. Clouds floated serenely across a calm sky that had been undisturbed by the appearance and immediate disappearance of a wormhole that had deposited a sixteen-year-old girl on the ground.
Clove could be anywhere. In any place, at any time.
Despite all of this, she found herself smiling. She had travelled in a wormhole. Even if it was just to the next postcode, she had travelled in a wormhole and survived. Even if she never achieved anything else, never found her parents or fixed her relationship with Tom and Jen, she would always have this.
She pushed up her sleeve and peered at her watch. “Spart?” Her voice sounded dulled, muffled, and very unsure. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Spart?”
A message appeared on the screen.
> I am here.
A coil of anxiety left her. Spart was here in her watch. And as her watch was solar powered, she had him for as long as she was here – wherever “here” was.
“Where are we?” she asked.
> I don’t know.
“I thought you knew everything. Isn’t that the point of you?”
> I know everything which I am able to search online. I can’t connect to a network here.
Her watch couldn’t get any signal. That meant she must be in the past, before they had the internet. She must have travelled over fifty years into the past. She rolled over, pushing up onto hands and knees and ignoring the sudden pounding headache spreading across her forehead.
“Urgh. Time travel really isn’t designed for passenger comfort.”
She stood up and then leant against the trunk of a willow as she tried to conquer her exhaustion. Thinking of everything she still had to do made her want to cry.
Right now, when she was so tired that she couldn’t move even her hands properly, deciding to time travel into the past to get the DNA of people who may or may not be her parents seemed like the worst idea in the world.
She let herself cry, pushing out all her worry and exhaustion. She wanted Jen. She wanted Tom. She wanted a hug from her parents − her real parents, whatever genetics said. She wanted to go home, but a small, stronger part of her knew that she couldn’t, not until she’d done what she came here for. She had to find out whether Katherine Finchley and Matthew Galloway did exist in this time. And if they did … well, then there would be no end to her questions. Did they look identical to her birth parents? What did that mean – a genetic anomaly, however impossible that was? Or … could they possibly somehow be her Kate and Matt, her parents? And if that was the case, then how?
