The blinding flash of light came a split second before the blast knocked Martin off his feet and against the fence. Smoke filled his lungs, and burning debris fell all around him. Coughing violently, he scrambled beyond the fence away from the destruction. Only when he reached a safe distance from the burning lab did the reality of what had happened hit him.
“They blew it up! They must have figured I would try to come back, and they set a bomb to explode when I got here. I triggered it somehow.” He stared in shock at the raging inferno. “It’s gone, LOGOS. Our only hope of stopping Xenox from creating this nightmarish timeline is gone.”
<
“What do you mean? Can’t you see what’s happened? The project, the computers, the jump pod, all blown to bits. And my colleagues, the scientists who created the technology, are probably dead. It’s over.” He slumped to the ground in defeat.
<
“Thank you, but what’s your point? Why isn’t this, ‘Game over. Xenox: one, Martin and all of human history: zero?’”
<
Martin leapt up from the ground. “LOGOS, that’s unbelievable! You’re amazing. You really think you can do this?”
<
“Well, we don’t have much choice, do we? I would rather try and fail than continue to live in this reality.”
<
With his back to the burning building, Martin sat on the ground, viewing the sunset and contemplating the possibility that this might be his last one to experience. He wanted to enjoy it.
26
Chronos Project
Personal Mission Log: Dr. Martin Chamberlain
Departure date: 2166 After Visitation
Target destination: Masada
Target date: December 21, 24 BC
Once again, this is Martin Chamberlain, recording my latest journey through time. With his new quantum capabilities, LOGOS managed to trigger the distortion wave despite the loss of the facility. I could not have survived this ordeal without my cybernetic companion. If I ever meet our Ally again, I must thank him.
After a brief passage through the spacetime Corridor, I find myself not at the base of the rocky plateau of Masada but in the middle of the Judean desert. LOGOS cautioned me that on his first attempt at a time jump, his spatial calculations might not be as accurate as one would hope. At least I have landed near what looks like a well-traveled road which runs alongside the Dead Sea. In fact, in the distance I see a caravan of camels coming this way. Hopefully someone will be willing to assist me.
Before the jump, I put on the biblical-style robe which the people of the Way gave me, including a scarf which wraps around my head. Over the last week or so, with all my adventures competing in this alien’s game, I haven’t had time to shave, so I have a few days’ start on a beard. Perhaps that will help me fit in here. Unlike the clean-shaven Romans, most Jewish men have facial hair.
I wave at the camel driver, and he comes to a halt. Several of the animals carry baskets of supplies. I assume he’s a traveling merchant. “Greetings, friend. May God’s favor be with you today. May I ask where your caravan is headed?”
“Blessings to you in return,” the man replies. “I ride to the south of the sea. I have business in the region of Idumea. Tell me, how have you come to this place all alone, without friends or beasts of burden?”
Quickly I make up a credible tale. “This morning I traveled from Jericho when thieves assaulted me and took my donkey and goods. Fortunately, I escaped with my life. I fall at your feet and rely on your mercy to assist me in getting to Masada.”
“What’s your business there? Do you wish to join the army of the Essenes?”
This information confirms the alteration of history which has occurred by this time, just as the maggid described. Masada currently serves as their military headquarters. But from his tone of voice, I can’t tell if this man sympathizes with their cause or not. I need to remain neutral. “I am a man of peace, not war, but I seek instruction about their beliefs and plans for the future. Once I understand them better, I may or may not join in their campaign.”
“A wise path to follow, friend. I hear conflicting reports about their ultimate goals and question how to respond. But one must base great decisions of life on sound knowledge, not hearsay. Come, ride with me. I will take you as far as Masada.”
He gestures to one of his servants, who dismounts and helps me climb up on the camel’s back. I’m sorry to make the servant walk, but I can’t refuse my host’s offer. The camel first raises up on its hind legs for which I am unprepared, and I nearly fall off. The caravan leader chuckles. “Not like your donkey, is it? Don’t worry. My beasts are very tame and amiable in nature. They rarely bite or kick.”
“That’s good to hear.” My ride stands up on its front legs, and we are on our way, swaying back and forth.
As our camels come side by side, the man smiles and reaches out to grab my forearm. “My name is Matthias. I am glad to have found a new friend.”
“Thank you. You may call me … Yeshua.” Based on recent experience, that’s the first Jewish name that came to mind. Since the most famous person with that name won’t be born for two decades, I figure it’s safe to borrow it for a short while.
We ride for several miles along the Dead Sea. This salty body of water deserves its name; no vegetation flourishes here, and I see little wildlife beyond a few lizards and snakes. For most of the way, my companion remains silent, and I hesitate to interrupt his thoughts, but after a time I ask, “Have you ever been to Masada yourself, Matthias? What can you tell me about it?”
“Inside the fortress itself, no, I have not had the honor. But on my frequent journeys to the south, I have passed through the area and witnessed the activity surrounding its construction. The work began about twelve or thirteen years ago, as I recall, and was completed a year before Old Herod’s demise.” He spits at the mention of the tyrant’s name.
“Herod hardly had time to enjoy its splendor,” Matthias continued. “He spared no expense on the two lavishly furnished palaces on the peak of the plateau. One day I stopped for a while and watched as hundreds of men transported slabs of colored marble up the winding path to the top. Several workers slipped with their heavy loads and fell to their deaths. But that was not surprising. Death accompanied Herod throughout his life.”
To explain my ignorance of recent events, I tell him, “I have traveled outside the country for the last several years and have only heard rumors about his untimely end.”
“Yes, he might have lived to a fine old age if Rome had continued to support him. After the great defeat of their general Pompey, the Romans kept their distance from Palestine. Without their military to back him up, Herod struggled to maintain control over the people.”
Matthias paused to swat at a fly. “Some say he had plans to refurbish the temple in Jerusalem in order to appease the religious masses, but when the Essene forces rose up against him, he never had the chance. He committed suicide rather than face the humiliation of capture. That happened about two years ago.”
I remember reading about Herod’s death in Josephus’ history of the Jews, although in the original
timeline, it occurred in 4 BC. “I’ve heard he left orders that when he died, his soldiers were to round up prominent citizens and execute them so that the nation would be in mourning.”
“Yes, but those orders were not carried out, thankfully. Most people rejoiced at the news and danced in the streets. Old Herod was a tyrannical ruler and wicked in heart, and I do not regret his passing. But some say that he was less of a menace than this new Essene revolution. When you meet with them, I hope you find out otherwise.”
I can’t tell him that his fears are indeed prophetic unless I find a way to disrupt Xenox’s plans. But I’m afraid that I may not reach my destination in time. We have traveled this road for several hours now. Proceeding with their slow, swaying gait, the camels appear in no hurry.
“How much farther, my friend?”
“See, up ahead.” Matthias points toward a towering rocky formation on the horizon. The rust-colored cliffs rise over a thousand feet above the desert floor.
My heart leaps in anticipation at the daunting task ahead but also at the sight of this magnificent fortress. Masada is one place I have always wanted to visit, never imagining that I would see it in all its glory before time had crumbled its structures into ruins.
As we approach the plateau, we encounter several cohorts of guards stationed at its base. They must be accustomed to seeing merchant caravans passing through. Since we pose no threat, they leave us alone.
I dismount my camel as awkwardly as I got on, then thank my friend for his hospitality.
“Shalom, Matthias. Your kindness has been a blessing. May your dealings in the south lands prove profitable and your family thrive.”
“God’s favor on you as well, Yeshua. I hope you find the answers you seek.”
So do I.
Making my way up the twisting Snake Path on the eastern side, I appreciate that it’s wintertime in Palestine. In the summer, the heat often reaches over one hundred and twenty degrees at Masada. It’s very windy, and dust from the desert lashes at my face. The trek up the steep path has me sweating and breathing heavily.
Upon reaching the top, I realize why I haven’t seen other people passing me on the trail. Over the fortified walls which encircle the upper plateau, I hear the sounds of a large crowd. They must all have gathered to witness the return of the one they call Michael, my six-limbed opponent.
As I enter through the open gates of the royal citadel and mingle with the people (all male, I notice), I’m tempted to wander about like a tourist with so much to see. The Herodian complex includes two palaces, a heated Roman-style bath house decorated with elaborate mosaics, a synagogue, and aqueducts which bring water to massive cisterns holding two hundred thousand gallons. Although I would love to, I cannot take the time to view these wonders.
I have an alien to stop and world history to restore.
Walking through the crowd, I overhear the intense arguments which this Second Visitation has provoked.
“Object all you want, Eli. I heard his very words with my own ears. The angel insists that we take women for ourselves.”
“Yes, Samuel, I did too. The blessed Michael says we must produce offspring and increase our population of believers. Only by outnumbering our enemies can we hope for victory in the holy wars.”
“But I ask both of you, how can he suggest that we violate our sacred moral code? Surely sharing our beds with women will stain us with impurity.”
“How can a messenger from heaven declare anything in error? By his divine instruction he makes the unholy holy.”
“Leave these matters to the elders. They meet with Michael on the lower terrace. Allow their wisdom to guide us in the way of righteousness.”
That’s what I need to hear. I make my way through the debating rabble and head toward the northern peak of the fortress. There, Herod had constructed an impressive series of terraces utilizing the natural outcroppings of the jagged cliff. Steps along the edge lead down to the third level, a covered porch surrounded by columns with brightly colored bases.
I hide behind one pillar and carefully peer around it. I see Xenox in person for the second time, and it strikes me: this is truly a hideous creature. How can these people consider him a heavenly being? More like a denizen of hell.
A group of men stand around him, listening and nodding their heads, but I hear nothing. Perhaps he communicates with them telepathically? I can guess what he tells them as he waves the copper scroll in one of his hands. He must be describing the treasures which the scroll reveals, just as the maggid mentioned. This wealth will give them the means to pursue their war against the Sons of Darkness.
Now that I’m here, I realize that I don’t have a plan to deal with him. On all my other excursions into the past, I haven’t had to face my opponent directly. But I must do something.
“Stop!” I shout at the top of my lungs. “You mustn’t listen to this demon. He leads you away from the Light with his abominable lies!”
The men turn and observe me with curiosity, but Xenox looks angry. He lowers his head and — what?! Some kind of invisible force strikes my mind, knocking me backwards against the wall.
I wasn’t expecting that. I can’t compete with his telepathic powers, but he doesn’t appear that strong physically. I have to try a direct approach.
The floor is littered with rubble from a recent rockslide off the upper terrace. I pick up a large stone, rush at Xenox, and strike him in the chest. Crying out in pain or rage, he falls back, dangerously close to the edge of the platform. He waves his arms to regain his balance, dropping the scroll to the ground. But the balcony railing, already damaged from the rockslide, starts to crumble.
Instinctively, I reach out to grab him, but he is falling. He stares at me with those cold, black eyes and — Ahhh! One of his hands has caught my foot! I’m going over with him!
This is it — death!
I only hope —
I’m standing on the terrace. How did I get here? I saw the rocky ground hundreds of feet below rushing at me. No chance of survival. What just happened?
Before me, I see two figures struggling at the ledge, the alien and — myself? Xenox stumbles back toward the railing, waving his three arms. He drops the scroll and topples over, but with one hand he grabs me/the other, pulling me/him along. I run to the falling figure and catch his arm just in the nick of time. I —
Ahhh! One of his hands has caught my foot! I’m going over with him! This is — But wait, someone has caught my arm. He’s pulling me back over the railing. Thank God, I’m alive! The man helps me to my feet.
“Who are …?” I don’t believe what I’m seeing. I’m staring at a mirror image of myself. How can this be?
<>
“As I was falling? So I came back and saved myself?”
<
I turn to view my savior … but no one is there. “Where did he go?”
<
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
<
I shake my head, unable to wrap my mind around that concept, but now I have other matters to attend to, namely the Essenes. They have witnessed this entire event, including my bizarre rescue. What must be going through their minds?
The leader speaks to the others softly, and now turns toward me. In his face, I recognize a mix of confusion, sadness, and resignation.
“You have defeated the one who claimed to be the Angel of Light. According to our prophecies, this cannot be. Light must always dispel the dark. That is the eternal way. Thus, the elders have concluded that the former one who has met his doom spoke with deceitful intent. He is the Man of the Lie identified in our scrolls. We cannot trust his words now. We must abandon our plans for the war of Light against Darkness and wait for a future sign.”
He reaches down and picks up the copper s
croll. “This will be hidden away within the caves and forgotten.” The elders make their way up the narrow stairs to the upper levels, leaving me alone on the windswept terrace.
“LOGOS, I call this a win. Fantastic! Without their guiding angel and the riches contained in the scroll’s directions, the Essenes should revert to their original place in history as a minor religious cult that will be mostly forgotten until the rediscovery of the scrolls in the twentieth century.”
<
“Very appropriate response, LOGOS. For a translation program, you certainly have developed an impressive understanding of human culture.”
<
“Why, thank you, I truly appreciate that. I’ve come to think of you as a genuine person and a loyal companion. Once we return home, which I trust will have snapped back to its original state, I’m looking forward to visiting more historical periods with you along.”
<
“What? After all we’ve been through together, I’m going to lose you? Surely you can figure out a way to stay connected.”
<
///end log///
27
September 20, 2059
“Good, his brainwave readings show he’s regaining consciousness.”
“Hello, Martin, glad to have you back. Another successful trip, according to the data we’re receiving.”
“How do you feel?”
Martin opened his eyes and saw Rosa smiling down at him. She appeared her normal, cheery self, but wary of what he might find, he rose from the pod slowly and surveyed the room. David sat at his computer, typing furiously. S.P. gathered his equipment to check Martin’s vital signs. John Rey examined numbers on his data pad. Andrea stood to one side with a concerned expression, nervously twisting the gold ring on her left hand.
Temporal Gambit Page 14
