GODS OF TIME

by DG SIDNA

  Once the sun became the primary source of the world's energy, an evolutionary arms race emerged. An organism that could stand a little taller than his neighbors got more light, potentially while even casting down some shade on all his rivals. A billion years of this back and forth, of this race to the heavens, and you end up with trees. Apparently even ones with funny looking leaves and rotating arm sockets.

  "Should we be worried about wild animals here?" I ask.

  "First off, you should be worried about everything. Nothing says a tree can't get its nutrients by spearing you with a branch and sucking out your blood like a forking vampire. Creepy things, trees. But as far as other life, I don't know. The categories we use on Earth start to fall apart in other ecosystems. Nothing says a bush can't have legs and wander around the countryside peacocking for mates. Or that a space beaver can't do photosynthesis with his tail. Heck, the Thanes have cell walls. Does that make them plants? As far as this place, I still can't remember what was so special about it. But I can tell you that there's nothing intelligent around here."

  "How do you know that?"

  "Because the only intelligent species we've ever encountered are the Thanes. And they wear cat-themed sweaters to diplomatic conventions, so I'll leave it up to you whether or not you want to classify them as truly intelligent."

  I gently step a little further away from the nearest tree. "So where's this research base at, anyway?"

  She points to the horizon. "There."

  A thin trail of smoke is rising from the other side of the forest below us. It's almost on the horizon. We'll have to hike down the hillside and navigate through miles of woodlands to get there.

  "Careena, that looks a lot further than a kilometer away."

  "Bah. Hecate might need recalibrated is all."

  "Is this the right year, at least?"

  The woman shrugs.

  "And are those cooking fires? A little odd for researchers to be roughing it, don't you think?"

  Careena starts climbing down a small ridge toward the forest below. "Do you always ask so many blasted questions?"

  I roll my eyes. Whatever.

  I'm going to at least assume we're in the right year. According to the records, Barbara and Ian were married on this planet in the year 2480 and left in the early months of 2482. So we've chosen the latter half of 2481 to make our move.

  It's strange because the difference between the 2400's and the 3000's is entirely lost on me, it's all one big clump of future defined by weird gizmos, space colonies, and impossible cosmic travel.

  Yet, for Careena this is practically ancient history, six centuries well into her past. No wonder she has trouble remembering the specifics of this world. What would I see if I went back six hundred years into my own past? Probably Spanish conquistadors terrorizing half the Americas while occasionally crapping themselves to death in wooden buckets...

  Let's hope this trip goes better than that.

  It takes us over an hour to make it down the rocks and into the woodlands. Fortunately, once there, the land is flat and easy to navigate. The ground is dry and seemingly normal, a mix of sand and loose dirt, no more space peanuts.

  There's little ground cover, only small, odd weeds growing in patches here and there. The trees we pass are large and spaced far apart, creating a series of great, outdoor rooms for us to hike through, not unlike a pine forest, where the branches are rarely so low as to be of concern. The stiff, disc-shaped leaves offer us shade from a moderate sun.

  We end up following a creek. The only sounds in this woodland is the quiet rush of water over stones in the stream and the echo of our own footsteps. Without birds, without insects, without animals of any kind, this is a silent world.

  It's after another hour of hiking that we come across the little girl.

  Careena is a few steps behind me when we encounter her. The girl is standing directly before us, as if blocking our passage. She's alone. Her face is dirty, her hair blonde and tangled. Her dress, perhaps once white and pretty, is tattered and filthy. She has no shoes. She stares at us.

  I suppose I should make the first move. I kneel to her level. "Hey there, little one."

  I get a small smile, barely perceivable, in return.

  "What's your name?" I ask.

  She doesn't say anything.

  "Where are your parents?"

  Careena steps up beside me and whispers, "Don't go near it!"

  "It? She's a little kid."

  "Exactly my point! Look how dirty she is. Dodgy characters children are. I've always said it."

  "Careena, she's a kid. Kids get dirty. That's what they do."

  "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you, freckles. Every time I see a kid, I turn tail and run. Those sticky hands, runny noses, always crying about God knows what. It's enough to give you night terrors."

  I shake my head. But it does raise a question. Why is a little girl out alone in an alien forest? She looks only to be six or so. Was she born here? Or were researchers maybe allowed to bring their children on these missions? Was that even safe? Did something happen at the science base? Is that why they were using cooking fires? I decide we need more answers.

  I take a small step forward. "Don't mind that crazy old lady. My name is Isabel. Is your family near?"

  The girl still doesn't answer. Instead, she holds out her hand to show me what she's holding. Her smile is both innocent and mischievous.

  Ordinarily, the things a child might hold include a pretty rock, a coin maybe, perhaps a tiny frog. But this looks like none of those things. In fact, I may not know much about the future, but to me the thing in the girl's hand looks an awful lot like a taser.

  "Oy vey!"

  That's the last thing I can say before the girl tasers me in the chest. My body goes rigid and I fall sideways onto the dusty ground. Try as I might, my body won't respond. I'm forced to watch the next few moments like a statue.

  I see Careena pull out Old Bessie. "Okay, dirt ball, playtime's over. You had your fun. Now it's time for the adults to take charge. And don't think just because you're little that I won't enjoy this, darling."

  But before Careena can stun the little girl, a little boy, just as filthy and hidden behind a tree, runs out and tasers the old lady in the leg.

  "Forkballs!"

  She too locks up and falls over sideways onto the dusty ground.

  The little girl approaches and I notice something around her neck. It's a chain twinkling in the light of the sun. And on that chain is a ring, a familiar platinum band. My heart beats like a thunderbolt. What is going on?

  But before I can consider more, she tasers me again, and everything goes black.

  SIXTEEN

  There's a hand on my cheek, soft and comforting in the way my grandmother's hand was when she'd feel for my temperature as a child. I open my eyes. I'm in a room, simple and undecorated. It's a cabin, built from logs, from the trunks of those strange ivory trees in the Kryten forest. A curtain on the window catches a breeze. Next to me is a cot. Careena is there, still as stone.

  The hand that has awoken me belongs to a woman, perhaps thirty years old, though years of hardship have given her face and hands hard creases. She's brown skinned, some ambiguous mixture from Old Earth, and adorned in a simple white cotton dress buttoned up rather conservatively to her neck.

  "Where am I?" I ask the woman. My voice is parched.

  "You're safe. You're in our settlement."

  "The research base?" I ask the question but somehow I know it's not the right one to pose. The simple cabin, the woman's handmade dress—this place feels more like the old pioneer days than some advanced science station on a forbidden planet at the edge of the galaxy.

  "Research base?" the woman says. "No, I've never heard of such a thing. My name is Zipporah. I'm the doctor here."

  "And my friend?" I ask of Careena.

  "She's just fine. She'll be awake soon. We found the two of you in the woods, just over yonder, not even an hour ago."
r />   I put my hand to my temple. It throbs slightly.

  Zipporah is very polite. "May I ask what happened to you?"

  "We were jumped. By some children," I tell her.

  This doesn't seem to surprise the doctor. "I reckoned as much."

  "You know them?"

  "Yes, the swampies. They cross the mountains from time to time. They like to sneak into our settlement to steal trinkets and bits of jewelry. They think wearing such silly things will protect them from evil spirits. They're harmless really. We all hope they'll find their way back to us soon."

  A teen girl enters the cabin with a tray and pitcher of water. She appears mixed race as well, dressed in the same sort of handmade outfit as the doctor. Cheerful eyes make up for her prominent ears and wide, plain face.

  "They're awake," the young girl says.

  "Yes," Zipporah answers.

  "It was the swampies, weren't it?"

  "Yes."

  "I knew it! Those scoundrels!"

  "Dinah!" Zipporah turns to me. "You must forgive my daughter, Dinah. She does not know her manners. May I ask your name?"

  "Of course. I'm Isabel."

  The daughter Dinah asks, "And did you come in the ship, Miss Isabel? The one we saw? Are you here to take us with you? I told you it was a ship, mama! We didn't make it up."

  I'm not sure what to say. I just really hope Careena wakes up soon. I'm not trained in any of this secret, time travel spy stuff. Not only did the technology that brought us here not yet exist, but these 25th Century women look as if they've just stepped out of an episode of Little House on the Prairie.

  But I have to give some answer.

  "Our ship is, um, hidden," I say. "You wouldn't have seen it. My friend can explain when she wakes up."

  Zipporah sees my discomfort and respectfully changes the subject. "If I might ask, how were you bested by the swampies? I don't see any marks on you, and they've never resorted to violence before."

  "They zapped us."

  "Zapped?"

  "Yes, with these little electronic devices."

  Zipporah seems troubled.

  "That's not normal?" I ask.

  "No, not really. They don't have any devices like that. There are no weapons at all on this world. At least, as far I know. You see, the swampies were exiled by the Great Father some years ago when they were barely of walking age. They ain't got nothing. I reckon the Great Father expected them to perish out there all alone, but they're tough little rascals. I have to believe some of the exiled wives have helped them one way or another too. As I know, they all live in the swamplands on the other side of the mountains, near the Lord's Sea."

  I'm a little confused. "You exiled little children?"

  "Oh, we didn't do it," she clarifies. "The Great Father did. Though I reckon you could accuse us of standing idle. We've tried since to convince the swampies to come home, and a few of the older ones have, but really they don't trust us much. I can't say I blame them. The Great Father, you see, preached the Harmonious Ratio of All God's Children. Back then we believed everything he told us, without question. I reckon you probably think we're quite foolish."

  There's some shame in her voice. I can hear it. But I'm still trying to catch up. How did these people get here in the first place? I doubt it was in covered wagons. Did the scientists assigned to this planet abandon their post? Go native? Or had we been wrong to assume there'd been a research base here at all? The only thing I can gather for sure is that Careena and I seem to have stumbled into some sort of cult.

  Zipporah continues with an explanation, though it does little to answer my questions. "We were taught that the natural order of life is for one boy birthed for every eight daughters. Yet we wifefolk kept birthing boys and daughters in almost equal measure. The Great Father told us that were because we wasn't faithful enough, that we were having impure thoughts, that we were questioning God. Us wifefolk beat ourselves up over it mightily. As hard as we prayed, we never did reach harmony. So the excess boys either got castrated to be raised as farmhands or exiled over the mountains when they were old enough to pick roots."

  I'm stunned. "That's awful."

  "We ain't like that no more, Miss Isabel," young Dinah is quick to point out.

  "Yes," Zipporah says. "Some of the First Wives, like my mother, were able to recollect things from their old lives, from before they came here. They'd all passed away in the early years, or were exiled themselves when they got too feisty, but we tried to piece together what we could from their stories, the ones they was never supposed to tell us, but sometimes, on cold nights, did. But so much of it was confusing. We couldn't make a hawk from a handsaw over it."

  I'm afraid to ask. "What else did this Great Father tell you?"

  "A bunch of bull, I'm sure. But my, did I believe it when I was little. We were taught that we fled Earth. That it was a place of great sin. For centuries the Divine Race had sent prophets and teachers to help the people of Earth see the light, but those prophets were always killed like common criminals. Our Great Father, he was one of the Divines, you see. And he chose us, to be the mothers of a new solar empire, one that would be good and pure, not wicked like the Earthfolk."

  Dinah asks, "You're from Earth, ain't you, Miss Isabel?"

  Wake the hell up, Careena!

  But I assume there's no harm in an honest answer. "I am."

  "And you're here to save us. To take us back with you?"

  "Um, not exactly."

  "Cause we would go back with you if you was."

  I'm at a loss. "That's not why we're here, Dinah. I'm sorry."

  The girl nods solemnly, her hair bobbing around her ears.

  "Zipporah," I ask. "You said the boys were exiled over the mountains. But the one that attacked me was a girl."

  "Sapphira, likely. She's a crafty little one, like her mother. But she's got a good heart."

  "Why is she out there?"

  Zipporah explains. "The Old Law said wives could be excommunicated for disobedience. Excommunication is the same as exile. Worse really, since without a husband a wifefolk can't attain the afterlife. Exiled boys, on the other hand, just end up back in line to be born again at their proper time. When Sapphira's mother was excommunicated, she took little Sapphira with her. That's against the Old Law. You see, Sapphira had already been promised to the Great Father. But her mother took her anyway. She was my sister, you know. She died out there. But the swampies adopted Sapphira, thank goodness. Most of the exiled wives have returned, the ones that survived that is, but the swampies refuse to have anything to do with us."

  "And what happened to your Great Father?"

  "Dead," she tells me without emotion. "Two or three years back now. He was old and not so immortal as he claimed. There was something of an uprising among the wifefolk after he passed. And we've been trying to rebuild something different now that he's gone. But there's so much we don't know. Most of the older wives, the ones from Earth, have all passed."

  "That's why we was hoping that you were from Earth, Miss Isabel," Dinah breaks in. "You could help us. You know, you could teach us things."

  "I doubt I could be of much help," I tell the two women. And it's true. This land, this world, this time, was as foreign to me as it was to them. And was I even allowed to interfere? Wouldn't I end up altering the future? Would my good intentions cause more harm than good? It's a question I really don't want to have to face. Particularly since now I understand Soolin was forced to ask the very same question of me.

  "Would you like to see the settlement, Miss Isabel?" Dinah asks. She seems so excited. She's only a year or two younger than me, maybe fifteen. She's had a hard a life, but some things about adolescence never change.

  I turn to her mother to see if it's alright.

  "I don't see why not," Zipporah says. "You seem in good health to me. Everyone will be quite curious about you, but they'll respect your privacy. I'll tend to your friend until she wakes. Dinah, you take proper care of our guest. Don't peste
r her with all your questions."

  "Of course, mama!"

  I follow Dinah out of the cabin and into the settlement, which she tells me is called Nyssa. It's a loose collection of frontier cabins wedged between a thick alien forest and an open prairie spreading for miles to badland hills at the edge of the horizon.

  Unlike most of the strange vegetation on Kryten, the prairie grass around us looks indistinguishable from grass on Earth. I mention this to Dinah.

  "That's because it is from Earth!" the teen girl says. "It's blue grama grass from an ancient Earth kingdom called Minnesota. I reckon it must be beautiful there. Have you been?"

  "No, not personally."

  "What's the name of your kingdom?"

  "New Jersey."

  "Wow. Must be so amazing there. I'll visit one day. I promise."

  "Dinah," I ask. "Why is the grass here?"

  "Our grandparents brought all sorts of animals and plants from Earth. Most of it died, but the grass loved it here. Eventually it killed all the native grass and took over the entire steppe. Over there you can see our livestock. We got goats, geese, and llamas. Are those common on Earth? We had piggies too, when I was real little, but they're all in the dirt now. We also grow sweet potatoes, leafy goosefoot, white currant, and cowpeas. Nothing else took to the soil so good. But that's alright cause we harvest some of the native plants now, like Red Forest root and Shiva apples, though I'm told they don't look nothing like real apples. You'd probably know, right?"

  Before I can answer, she points to two cats warming themselves in the sun near a shed full of farm implements. "Oh, and there is Retsil and Remmir. They're the last cats. The Great Father brought eight woman cats and one man cat for us, to teach us about the Harmonious Ratio. But they started having too many boy cats, cause, you know, cats are wicked and don't give a hoot about God's plans or nothing. So we had to castrate the boys, all but one, of course. Unfortunately, there was a mixup on gelding day and they castrated the one they wasn't supposed to. Oops. No more man cats, which I reckon means no more cats. Do you like cats, Miss Isabel?"