The Time Stone (The Time Stone Trilogy Book 1)

by Robert F Hays

  Jim was on his way back to the spaceport. A shipment of farm machinery had arrived and he was going there to find out if one had his name on it. In this city there were no 3Vs, TVs or even telephones. News was transmitted by a voice radio. When a shipment was announced, hundreds of expectant farmers converged on the spaceport to read the listings as they appeared on a computerized notice board.

  Many were now walking along the now stationary moving sidewalk. Jim watched a team of technicians as they cut a young sapling from the power box that controlled it. A particularly violent storm last night had uprooted it and sent it crashing into the box. Its relatively flimsy casing seemed more suited to the temperate climate of the older worlds. In fact, none of the equipment here seemed to be substantial enough to survive the rugged conditions. This lack of a hardy quality also extended to the colonists.

  Jim continued on his way. Looking up, he saw the tower of the spaceport. A large shuttle behind it signified that the radio news was correct. Equipment had arrived.

  Another sight caught his eye, a group of new arrivals walking in the other direction, some chatting, most walking in silence. One in particular drew his attention. The wide legged gait on the man looked familiar as well as the slow weaving path he took. Jim stepped directly in his way. The man stopped and Jim leaned forward to peer into his faceplate. “Of all the billions of people in the galaxy, what the hell are you doing here?”

  The man peered back. “I’m sorry, I do not know you sir.”

  “Sure you do, you saved my backside on more than one occasion back on Batalavia. Come on, I have some excellent good stuff back in my room.” Jim turned, grabbing the man by the shoulder.

  “Ah... the voice sounds like Jim Young, but the face...”

  “Halbert, it’s minor surgery. Remember, people are trying to kill me, it’s a disguise. What’re you doing here and how are the others?”

  “Jim?” Halbert paused to look him up and down. “What’re you doing here?”

  “About to get myself accidentally killed,” Jim announced flippantly, “and you can help.”

  “Killed? What? After all we did to keep you alive you’re going to kill yourself. What? Listen, I have not had a slurp in three days. Can you get me one so I can think more clearly?”

  “What?” Jim said in surprise. “You’ve finally given up the stuff?”

  “Hell no, no drinking allowed on that colony liner once we came out of parallel space. They did not want any of us to fall flat on our face when we got here.”

  They walked back toward Jim’s hotel. The wind increased in intensity. The single story, prefabricated buildings on either side of the road creaked and strained at their moorings. The road was wide with sidewalks on either side. Since Jim had arrived, he hadn’t seen a single vehicle use the center of the road. The designers of the city left it for future use, possibly many years from now. At present, it remained a mud bog impossible to cross on foot. One had to find one of the infrequently placed foot bridges to get to the other side. Some were toll bridges set up by enterprising colonists. It cost 25MG to get across.

  “So, Halbert, what brought you here?”

  “You did.”

  Jim hesitated, momentarily mystified by Halbert’s statement. “Me? How did you know I was here?”

  Halbert’s broad smile could be seen through the rain speckled faceplate. “Not that, it was you being here in this time and what you brought us. For the last two hundred years humans have been sitting on their well organized planets, comfortable and content. These colonies attracted very few. Those who came we classified as idiots for giving up the comforts of the older worlds. There’s now a new interest in going out and doing things. Those guys from that encyclopedia, Christopher Columbus and Captain Cook, have created a new enthusiasm for going out and exploring.”

  “But, haven’t there been new heroes from the colonial era?”

  “Old stories, people have heard them over and over again. They become meaningless after being told so many times. It’s the new ones from your time. I especially liked that 2V actor John Wayne from those DVDs of yours. He had the spirit to go out and punch life in the mouth if it was not just right.”

  Jim felt a slight guilt over his part in sentencing people to a miserable existence on a miserable planet. “Halbert, John Wayne’s a myth. He’s an actor playing people that never existed and probably could never exist.”

  Halbert glanced at Jim and smiled as they continued to walk. “We all know that. You have not watched much 3V, have you?”

  “No, I haven’t, been too busy.”

  “Well you should, that style of nonfactual story and presentation, based on fact, is well understood here. It’s not the facts of the story, it is the spirit. Am I making any sense?”

  “Yes,” Jim said, mentally scratching his head, “sort of.”

  “In that case I’m too sober. I can not do a silly thing like make sense. Where’s a drink? The pills they gave me to stop from getting the shakes do not work that well.”

  Jim stopped and listened to the distant wail of a siren. It signified one of the sudden storms that couldn’t be predicted.

  “Come on Halbert, storm warning.” Jim looked around and started to walk down a side street. “There’s a bar down here I found a couple of days ago. We can stay there ‘till the storm passes. I don’t see how I can grow pears with wind like this.”

  “Computer calculated.” Halbert had to raise his voice to talk over the storm. “By the time those pear things get to any size the weather will be under control. That’ll be in about six months.”

  The two ran down the side street. Torrents of rain, driven by the high winds, slowed them and reduced visibility to only a few meters. The plastic composite outer walls of the buildings visibly bowed and groaned under the pressure.

  “Watch out!” Jim yelled. A meter long stake exploded from the ground and flailed in their direction on the end of its tether.

  Leaping the two meters to the side of the structure, Jim grabbed frantically for the elusive anchor. The building creaked and raised a few centimeters from its foundation as other stakes slowly rose from the soggy earth.

  “Huh?” Halbert said while watching him.

  “Lend a hand!” Jim yelled. “It’s considered a near criminal act here not to help when something goes wrong, no matter who needs assistance.”

  Halbert jumped forward and lent his own weight to the tether. Within seconds, a number of other passers-by were also straining with them.

  A door flew open and three women dashed out, the first carrying a power stake driver while the other two carried spare stakes and synthetic fiber cord. Minutes later, the building slowly settled as tethers were tightened and they heard the thump of new anchors being driven deep into the clay.

  The women waved a friendly thank you. Jim and Halbert turned and continued on their way.

  Jim wiped the wind driven rivulets from his faceplate. “You have to jump in when things like that happen,” he said. “If you don’t, and by-standers have the time, they’ll beat the crap out of you for being ignorant.” Jim grabbed for a tether to steady himself in the wind.

  “I’ll remember that,” Halbert said.

  Jim turned into an alcove. The sign next to the entrance read: ‘The Tempest Haven Bar and Old Earth Restaurant’. Beneath it was a smaller sign that read: ‘A Young Franchise’.

  The light above the door was green so they entered into an airlock. Inside, lines of suits hung from pegs on the walls to the left and right. Jim touched the control pad on his left marked ‘Purge’ and they felt the rushing of filtered air as it replaced the slightly contaminated air from outside.

  It was possible to live in the current atmosphere of the planet for short periods of time, but longer exposure would cause some health problems. The airlock was not a totally secure system, it just helped reduce the concentration of hazardous gasses to an acceptable level. Occasionally indoors one could smell the odor of rotten eggs.

  They
removed their suits and hung them on vacant pegs. Jim opened the inner door. He smiled when he heard Elvis Presley singing Heartbreak Hotel as he entered.

  “Restaurant that way,” Jim pointed to the right, “bar this way,” he pointed left. The establishment was an exact replica of one that appeared in one of Jim’s videos. The bar, that ran the length of the left wall, was ornate with the traditional mirror behind the barman.

  “Bar, or eat and drink?” Jim asked.

  “I just ate on the shuttle. How about you?”

  “Ate at the hotel,” Jim said. He walked toward the bar and selected a stool. Halbert took the stool next to him.

  “Jim...”

  “It’s Cat now,” Jim interrupted.

  “Cat then,” Halbert smiled, “is this place authentic?”

  Jim looked around. “Yes it is, sort of.”

  The barman wiped the bar in front of them with a towel. “What can I get you gentlemen?”

  “Beer for me,” Jim said before turning to Halbert. “What do you want?”

  Halbert opened his mouth, but before he could say anything the barman spoke again. “We just got the first shipment of that Old Earth Budweiser beer. Care to try it?”

  Jim slowly nodded trying not to appear overly enthusiastic. “Yes I’ll try it.”

  Halbert also nodded. Jim threw a 1G disk on the bar.

  “Why do they have that huge mirror behind the bar?” Halbert said. “So you can see how drunk you’re getting?”

  “Tradition from the American frontier. It’s so you can see who’s sneaking up behind you.”

  “I can see where that could be useful.”

  Two red and white cans appeared in front of them.

  “You open these things like this,” the barman said. He reached for one of them and pulled up on the tab. Jim heard the pop as it opened.

  “Let me try that,” Jim said and he fumbled with the tab on the second can. After a few seconds it too popped and opened. He looked at it. “Primitive but interesting.”

  Halbert gave him a smile and whispered. “You’re over acting.”

  Jim took a sip and held it in his mouth for a few moments. It was authentic. He exhaled with relief knowing that he didn’t have to put up with the watery sweet taste of the current beer any longer. He also looked forward to the even stronger flavor of the Fosters Lager that his company was brewing.

  Halbert took a sip and raised an eyebrow. “Interesting, but I think I prefer my usual concoction. It is...”

  “Cheaper?” Jim said.

  “Correct, I believe you have summed it up in one word,” Halbert said. The two men burst into quiet laughter.

  The bartender smiled and walked to the other end of the bar to serve another customer.

  “So, Halbert, I still don’t fully understand why you came here. How did you get to see those videos? I can’t remember a 3V at the mission.”

  “Just after you left it started. A new program at the Lutheran mission for us psychdeps.”

  “Psych what?”

  “Psychologically dependent on alcohol. Physical dependency can be taken care of by simple metabolism alteration. Psychdeps are different. The church organized this program to give us a purpose in life, a substitute for drinking. They showed some of your old videos that dealt with the pioneering spirit and 3Vs of this planet.”

  “That got you hooked?”

  “I volunteered to take the program, so they sponsored me to come here.”

  “Not all the Old Earth pioneers wanted to. There’s a mystery in my family, the name wasn’t originally Young. When my great-great-great-grandfather went to North America from England he changed it to Young. No one knows the original name, or why he changed it, but we have our suspicions. We think he had to leave his native country in a hurry.”

  Halbert smiled and sipped his beer. “I suspect more than one of the people I arrived with here are in a similar position. That’s why the government’s so enthusiastic about opening up these colony planets. They’re a repository for people like me who do not quite fit in, a new start for everyone.”

  Jim looked around the bar at the collection of individuals, quite unlike any he had seen since arriving in this time. “Doc Redmond was right. Knowledge of history is powerful. It keeps repeating itself.” He looked back at Halbert who was upending the beer and threw another 1G disk on the bar. “So what do you plan to do...” He was interrupted by a passing patron who staggered into him, bumping his elbow and splashing some of the precious content of his can. “Excuse me, could you be more careful?” Looking the man up and down he saw his outfit was another video copy, jeans and a pseudo cowboy shirt.

  “You be more careful,” the man slurred as he swayed. “Damn wimp.” He grabbed the loose material on the sleeve of Jim’s more contemporary one piece outfit and shook it. “This is man’s country. What are subhumans like you two doing out here?”

  Halbert turned to look at the man. “We do not want any trouble,” he said hurriedly. “We’re just here for...” Halbert was cut short by a wild slap which caught him on the chin sending his empty can flying over the bar striking the mirror behind it.

  Jim raised his arms in a defensive posture as the man turned back to face him. A jagged bright blue streak crossed the bar as the man cocked a clenched fist preparing to strike. The man fell back and struck the floor with his unconscious body. Two other similarly dressed men jumped to their feet from a nearby table and approached, fists clenched.

  The bartender leveled the hand held weapon in their direction. “Don’t try it,” he ordered. “Get him out of here, and all of you, don’t come back.”

  The two men picked up the third from the floor and headed for the airlock.

  Jim turned his attention to the barman and his weapon. “Thought those things were illegal to carry.”

  “It’s just a stunner,” the barman said. “Around here the police tend to look the other way. Even more so since toughs like those started showing up in the last six months. They come into places like this and demand free drinks in exchange for protecting us.”

  “Do they have jobs or land?” Jim said.

  “Not one of them has claimed land or intends to work at an honest job. We’ve formed a vigilance committee to figure out what to do with them, but until they seriously break the law, we can do nothing.”

  Jim smiled and mumbled to himself. “History repeats itself.”

  “Here,” the barman said, placing two full cans on the bar, “sorry about the inconvenience. These are free, or should I say ‘on the house’. I believe that was the expression used in that old video I saw last night.”

  Jim nodded a thank you and picked one up. “So, Halbert what do you plan to do here?”

  “Grow turnips, whatever they are. I understand they grow under the ground like a potato and you can eat both the bulb and the above ground leaves. You should know more than I do. You brought them here.”

  Jim thought for a moment then smiled as he remembered a can of turnip greens he’d packed. “I chose land as far away as I could. It’s newly surveyed and I have no neighbors yet. You could pick one nearby and be a witness to my death at a distance.”

  “Ah, your demise,” Halbert said slowly. “I take it that you’re going to be elsewhere drinking this Budweiser stuff when they hold the funeral.”

  “Something like that,” Jim said raising his can in a mock toast, “I’m about to pick up a land clearer that has a defective override on the fusion engine. When the double warning goes off, of course I don’t know a damn thing about the manual damper or the auto dump. I’ll have turned two of the controls the wrong way.”

  “How could that be believed? I was ten years old when I learned the basics of the fusion engine at schoo...” Halbert’s eyes brightened. “Ah, yes, you never went to school here, did you?”

  “Yep, the black box will show that I’m just a stupid Old Earth man who doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

  “Good plan, I can report the giant cloud of
smoke and the bang from where I live. When is this unfortunate event going to take place?”

  “A couple of weeks. Gives me time to prepare some of the land to make it look real.”

  “In that case I should get to the land office as soon as possible when this storm passes.”

  “It’s probably over by now. These sudden ones only last about twenty minutes.” Jim turned on his bar stool and waved to catch the attention of the barman. “Could I have a case of that beer? I think I kind of like it.”

  * * *

  The name Cat Stevens did appear on the equipment roster. Jim walked confidently into the dispatcher’s office and identified himself.

  “Mr. Stevens, your clearer, residence and grid navigator are at dock fourteen. The transport engineer will be waiting when you get there.” The dispatcher made an entry on the pad lying on the desk in front of him. He then picked up a small device from the right side of the desk and held it out. “Your retinal scan please, then the equipment is yours.”

  Jim leaned forward with confidence. He knew that the scan had no direct link. It would remain at the spaceport until the shuttle returned to the cargo ship. Then it’d take a week to travel back to the ship’s point of origin. From there, a couple of days before it was registered with the Commonwealth’s main computer banks, plenty of time to arrange his death. The Montoyas had planned it well.

  * * *

  At dock fourteen Jim stood looking up at the giant machine. It was taller than he was, twelve meters long and five wide. He wandered around to the intake, a large opening in the front that scooped up dirt, rock and vegetation. Inside the machine the rock was pulverized to the desired consistency, nutrients added then expelled and leveled at the rear.

  A man approached glancing at a pad. “Mr. Stevens?”