GODS OF TIME

by DG SIDNA

  "These are specialized blast doors, Ms. Smith," the captain says. "Military grade. You'll never breach—"

  Careena fires and the glass explodes, blowing the captain and her officers to the ground as shards of glass fly everywhere.

  I want to shake the old woman. "What the hell? Does everything end in a fucking shootout with you?"

  She doesn't have time to respond. Gunfire erupts from down the hall as soldiers take up positions and we're all forced to take cover behind the wall. Couches and paintings are blown to bits behind us.

  Careena returns fire into the hallway. In all the shooting, pipes are busted and start blowing out streams of smoke. The sprinklers kick in. It's complete chaos.

  Fasolt sneaks off into the hallway during a momentary lull in the incoming fire as the soldiers realize they might hit their own captain.

  "Fasolt! You idiot! Get back here!" I yell.

  But it's too late.

  He disappears into the first open doorway.

  Looking further down the hallway, Captain Nordenskjold's two aids have dragged her to the safety of a different doorway. She's unconscious, which is unfortunate; it means there's no one of authority who can call a ceasefire.

  Worse, it's only a matter of time before the freight elevator behind us arrives with a dozen more armed miners. Careena won't be able to hold off an advance from both front and behind, no matter how powerful Old Bessie is.

  We're trapped in the waiting room with no escape. I vow that next time I'm taking a more proactive role in the planning phases of these ridiculous missions.

  If there's a next time.

  Fasolt's head reemerges from the side door in the hall, but now the gunfire has started up again and there's no way for him to make his way back to us. A second head pops out behind him. It's Sapphira. I don't know how he could have freed her from her guard, seeing how he was armed with little more than a kitchen spatula, but then I remember the swampies likely still had a stolen Kheltic taser at their disposal. Clever boy.

  Sapphira looks frightened, but unhurt. More importantly, on a chain around her neck are two rings. One is Hecate. I yell to Careena, "We have to get to them!"

  "How?" The incoming fire starts blowing away bits of the wall we're using for cover. "Bloody hell!"

  She's right. There's too much crossfire in the hallway to get to the children. I don't know what to do. We need a distraction.

  That's when the first moan fills the ship. I can only describe it as a great wailing emanating from somewhere out at sea. Everyone pauses, even the soldiers.

  "What was that?" I whisper.

  Gunther is crouched low down beside me. "It's Dave! We got to get out of here, man!"

  I look over but can't see anything outside the windows. It's dark out there and the storm is brutal.

  The moan comes again, only this time much closer.

  Careena takes a moment to peer down the hall. It's deserted; the soldiers have all fled. Even the captain is gone. "Hah! Wankers!" the old woman yells in victory.

  I'm less certain that we've won the encounter. I can still hear the staccato beats of machine gun fire. The soldiers are still shooting, they're just not shooting at us. They're firing out the windows. They're firing at the sea.

  I collect my courage and stand. I look out the window again, into the darkness, into the moonlit sea and shipwrecking storms.

  And that's when I see Dave.

  I clutch my chest like some old grandmother. The creature out there is the size of a small mountain, marching up the steps of the ocean floor, revealing a little more of its hulking frame with each stride. It has the look of some ancient tree, layered in seaweed and coral.

  Vaguely there's a head, though in truth it's just knotted roots, the crevices of which trick the human mind into seeing deep, sad eyes and a massive lopsided mouth, as if the creature's face were frozen in perpetual agony.

  Four arms dangle to its side. There are no hands, only long twisted roots like the ends of turnips. Moonlight catches a giant plate of curved steel embedded into the monster's tangled mess of a shoulder, in the same way a young tree might consume a fence post over many long years.

  There's red lettering stenciled across the metal. I can make out three letters. DAV. The name of the beast the swampies have taken to be a god.

  "What is that thing!" I scream.

  Careena sees it as well. "That's why I never go to the beach! But I got a feeling it's also the reason the Yamato never finds this rig. I think we're about to get dragged down into hell."

  A moment later a giant arm crashes against the ship as the creature lets out a bellowing cry in the storm. We're all knocked off our feet by the force of it.

  "What's it want?" I cry.

  Careena shrugs. "Probably a new hat."

  That's when I realize—the creature is like a hermit crab, one which has outgrown its old shell. It's here for a new home.

  D A V

  DAVID

  This thing was literally wearing the Star of David, the ship that had brought the settlers to this world. And soon it was going to be wearing the Isidora.

  With a loud snap, the foundations crack at the base of the ship. Windows everywhere shatter. The entire rig turns sideways. We all tumble toward the wall, barely avoiding being crushed by couches and other debris that falls with us.

  My stomach does a loop as the Isidora hits the ocean sideways. The room fills with ocean water, dark and black. Careena's right. We're being pulled down into the underworld.

  She's also right that the Khelts don't survive this encounter. Which means we won't either. That's one gift of foreknowledge I'd rather not have. It means I can't even hold on to hope.

  As the room floods and the ship sinks deeper, it's all any of us can do to stay afloat and not be sucked out in a vortex of frigid water. The boys are crying. I find myself holding the broken door frame, trying not to choke and drown. But I have only a few seconds before that will become my inevitable end.

  And then I see her. Sapphira, only a foot away, clutching a pipe. Blood is running down the side of her face, but she's still alive. I reach out to her. Her shoulder is just close enough. But I don't want her fricken shoulder. I propel myself forward, letting go the frame, snatching what I need as the black currents of icy water pull me under to throttle me, to drown me, to end my life.

  But I don't drown, not today.

  I slip on the ring and will myself off the ship.

  I will all of us off the ship.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Calm moonlight and the gentlest breeze catch my wet hair. I'm in a field, on my back, looking up toward a peaceful night sky outlined by a beautiful band of stars. Blue grama grass sways lazily to either side of me. I appreciate the softness of this natural bed. I let out a deserved sigh.

  Not far away from my feet are Gunther and Fasolt, eyes wide and large as they look around at their new surroundings. You could mistake them for soaked rats. I almost giggle at that thought.

  I look over to my right and see Sapphira, nearly invisible in the tall, dark grass. She's pulled in her knees closely with her pencil thin arms. There's blood in her hair from where she's been cut across the forehead. But she's more afraid than injured.

  Careena stands up next to her. The old woman's overcoat is sopping wet, leaving a puddle of mud in the dry soil. I catch her coughing up a fair bit of sea water, but it passes. That terrible ocean is gone now. Here there is only the tranquility of the open steppe.

  I'll admit, this is not exactly where I intended to have us arrive. But I can see the twinkle of some rooftops further on the horizon; Nyssa is not even three miles away. While it seems Hecate still needs some calibration, we're close enough.

  "Bit surprised we survived that one, to be honest," Careena mutters as she attempts to squeeze the water from her coat by twisting portions of it like one would a mopping rag. "Did we all make it out?"

  I see her counting heads. Gunther, Fasolt, Sapphira, me.

  I better warn her
.

  Too late.

  She hears the faint moan in the grass a few feet away.

  This is not going to be pretty.

  "You brought her!"

  She's got Old Bessie out in a flash.

  I finally sit up. This situation needs to be defused. "She stood up for us back there, Careena. We'd all have been knocked out cold if not for her. I couldn't just leave her back there."

  Careena is furious. "You could have and you should have, deary. She's not supposed to be here. The Yamato can't find a Khelt here when they arrive. If they do, it will fork up the entire timeline. It might even lead to early war. Not to mention you could have killed us all, you dolt! There's a limit to what a QDD can transport. Four people tops. And you just did bloody six! Congratulations, you set a new interstellar record. Lucky for us, most of them are half pints or I don't think we'd all still have our fingers and toes right now."

  I can tell she's upset, but I stand my ground. "I'm not going to apologize. I did what was right."

  "You better hope so, freckles. Because this really complicates things."

  Rhoda, the girl in question, opens her eyes and I help her up. She uses my arm for balance. I can tell she's dazed. She's trying to make sense of where she is. A field opposite the mountains. Hopefully she assumes we carried her here while she was unconscious. But she's still going to have questions. I tell her gently that we have to hike to the village. She agrees with a nod.

  It takes us more than an hour to reach Nyssa. I spend most of it carrying a sleeping Sapphira with her slender arms around my neck. Gunther and Fasolt march like halfling zombies, but they never complain.

  It's the dead of night when we arrive and I don't expect anyone to be awake, but someone is on a porch, watching a shooting star.

  It's Zipporah.

  "You're back," the mother says with surprise. She immediately does a head count and sees that we're two teenagers short. "Dinah?"

  "She's safe," I tell her of her daughter. "She's with the swampies."

  I hope that's true. I don't mention the storm.

  "You came back without her?" There's an understandable confusion in her voice.

  Careena saves me. "We had to, dear. We were attacked by something from the sea. We couldn't risk leading it towards the swampies or your daughter. We'll go back and get them first thing in the morning."

  Zipporah seems to reluctantly accept this explanation.

  I try my best to comfort her. "The swampies are looking out for Dinah and Hagen. They're good kids. In the meantime, I think Sapphira hit her head."

  "Yes, of course, bring her inside."

  The doctor goes to work, laying the girl on a cot, cleaning the wound, and applying a bandage. When she's finished, she turns to our two swampie commandos. "And you two? Are either of you injured?"

  Both boys shake their heads.

  I make the introductions. "This one is Gunther and that one is Fasolt."

  "Yes, I know them." She leans down and takes the battle spatula from Fasolt's belt. "I've been looking for this for quite some time, young man."

  She smiles and it lifts some of the shock and fear in young Fasolt's eyes. As brave as he pretends to be, as courageous as he truly was when the moment required it of him, the events of the last hour have shaken him to his core. What he needs now more than anything is the love and support of a caring adult.

  "And your other friend?" Zipporah asks of Rhoda.

  I don't know how to explain her presence.

  Careena, however, doesn't even miss a beat. "She's our cook. Doesn't get out much."

  Rhoda rolls her eyes, but otherwise says nothing.

  Zipporah produces blankets and bedrolls for everyone. Sleep comes easy and fast.

  I wake up early, before everyone else. As quietly as I can, I step out into the morning light, which is just now pouring over the horizon. If there were roosters on this world, they'd surely be calling out right now.

  I take a seat in the grass not far from the cabin. There's a peace in this place, a harmony I know I will come to miss. I want to soak it all in before we're forced to leave. Two geese wonder by, plump balls of feathers, waddling without a care in the world. To only be them.

  Careena comes to join me after a while, taking a seat next to me. We stare at the steppes and say nothing for many long moments. I've come to realize this is a sign of our friendship, of a real sisterhood, that we have this ability to enjoy one another's company in silence.

  After some time, I ask, "How have we made it this far, Careena?"

  She stares out at the horizon and answers truthfully, "By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams."

  At the center of the village, a few women are lighting candles around a rock. Careena notices them. "What are they doing?" she asks.

  "It's a vigil for Dinah and Hagen," I tell her. "I think they've been doing it every morning since we left."

  Careena is silent.

  "Do you think they're alright?" I ask.

  What she says surprises me. "I was just there."

  "What? How?"

  "How do you think? I took Hecate and I jumped there before anyone woke up. I owed it to that woman Zipporah. I was going to bring all the children back. We've already blown our cover and dazzled the natives with our magic, so I figured what could be the harm? But they weren't there."

  "You mean Dinah and Hagen left without us?"

  "No, I mean no one was there. I don't know how to tell you this, deary, but the entire camp has been wiped out by the storm. It looked like the claws of hell themselves reached out of the ocean and tore away the swamp. Whole swaths of trees were gone. The path of destruction was half a mile wide."

  "The monster..."

  "Aye. The kids are gone, deary. Everything is gone. There aren't even bodies left behind to bury."

  I put a hand to my mouth. "Careena, this is our fault."

  The old woman says nothing.

  Tears fill my eyes. I'm desperate. "We'll go back. I'll go back. You said I could jump anywhere."

  "It doesn't work like that," she tells me. "You can't jump where you've already been. The bonds can't be manipulated twice."

  I put my head down in defeat. She doesn't say it, but I know this is how it was meant to be. The creature destroyed the Kheltic mining ship. That was the history we knew. But it killed the swampies as well. Fate was simply unfolding the way it was always meant to. Fate, that cruel and pathetic pendulum. I'm powerless against it. Careena leaves and I sit for a long time by myself.

  Later at breakfast we make no mention of our findings. How could we? A large communal meal is prepared, with several long tables carried out into the center of the village. It could have been a truly wonderful moment, enjoying this feast with the settlers of Nyssa under a clear, unbroken sky, the vegetables before us harvested by hand, the soups stewed with care.

  A few animals wander by. Part of me believes this is the way humans were meant to live, not as drones in a consumerist, artificial dystopia of plastic bottles and constant distractions, but as families bonded around heavy wooden tables.

  But I can't enjoy what's been offered, not now. I can't contain the anxiety in my heart. I promised Zipporah I'd bring her daughter back, that talkative, awkward girl full of promise and potential.

  Instead, I led her to her death. I don't know if I'll ever be able to forgive myself for that. I want to run away. I know we could. We've already done what we came to do; Careena marked Bithiah's ring with her fancy, invisible isotopes not even five minutes ago during an introduction before we all sat down for our meal.

  We're free. The two of us can escape.

  Yet I owe it to Zipporah to tell her the truth.

  I just don't know how.

  Several women, in their prairie outfits, ask me all manners of questions about Earth during breakfast. They had been raised to believe it was a wretched pit, the old country, a harsh land their ancestors had abandoned and not without good cause. But with the passing of their spiritual lead
er, they've started to question those teachings, those stories, and now they want to know more.

  I'm afraid I'm in no mindset to give them honest answers.

  Looking over, I wonder what must be going through Rhoda's head. She sits mostly silent, but this is likely her first encounter with her Earth-born cousins. If she thought we were backwards before, I can only imagine what she thinks of us now that she's met this lot.

  And besides Dinah's fate and Rhoda's presence, there's yet another dark cloud hanging over my breakfast this morning, one that I'd prefer not to contemplate but which I can't force from my mind. It's Bithiah.

  The girl is really lovely, cheerful even, and she seems so full of optimism in her new marriage, one of the very first love marriages the settlement has ever performed. It's not her that torments me. It's my knowledge of her future. Or more precisely, the future of her lineage.

  I know that eventually she'll adopt the name Barbara, she'll have a son who will go on to be a settler himself, on some faraway world. He'll have a successful and happy family. His own son will serve in the Colonial Federate with distinction and marry a renowned historian. Many generations of the family will go on, living good, honest lives.

  Until the Second Khelt War.

  That war will destroy dozens of worlds. It's a war I still don't fully understand. Even in Careena's time the nature of the war and the beings that started it will be hotly debated by academics and scholars. But one thing that I do know, a child will become an orphan during that war, he'll be forgotten in the chaos of conflict, and he'll carry a ring around his neck, a token, an ancestral heirloom, the only connection left to him by a proud family lineage that he never had the opportunity to know.

  With some irony, I realize that by sitting here, at this table, having breakfast with these good people, I know his family more than he ever will. I've seen now both sides of the man I killed.

  Does that make me hate him any less?

  After breakfast I go for a walk alone among the cabins. Careena finds me sitting on a stump behind the chapel building. It's time for us to depart. If I'm going to tell Zipporah the truth of what happened to Dinah, I have to do it now. It's a responsibility I'm not looking forward to.