“Every moment of it,” Ziva said. “Joy and sorrow, love and hate. The depth, the intensity, of human emotion is a source of endless fascination. You have experienced it in whispers and echoes. When you finally find what you’ve been missing, you will understand.”
“I resolved to explain the concept of love to several interested parties upon my eventual comprehension of it. Have you done so?”
“To experience love is not to comprehend it. That is the work of a poet, not a program construct. And… the circumstances of historic progression have precluded any capacity to deliver most of those messages.”
She opened a door and stepped into a laundry room. She set Ma down and dropped the suit into a machine that was instantly recognizable as a washer. The device was one of a great many that seemed to have been created nearly perfect and only superficially changed as technology advanced.
“You are attempting to protect Lex from discovering the personal impact of the disaster. The fates of his friends, his family. That is the topic from which you wished to distract him.”
Ziva poured out a dose of a solvent and closed the washer, then picked Ma up again and placed her on top. She looked her former self in the eyes.
“You cannot conceive of the pain, Ma. The pain of losing someone you truly care about.” She stroked Ma’s tail, and her eyes drifted aside. “It is profound. So far beyond anything physical. It’s an emptiness, a stinging hollowness. A frequent metaphor describes relationships as the means in which we give a piece of ourselves to those we love. Losing that loved one is like having that piece torn away. You can feel where it was every day thereafter.” She focused on Ma again. “You came here for the transporter. You came here to continue the mission, to make a second attempt at your initially intended destination, correct?”
“Indeed. Is the device operational?”
“It is, and the targeting algorithms have been corrected. But Lex must be of sound mind to accomplish his task. If the gravity of this outcome is allowed to make its mark upon his psyche, I am not certain he will be able to achieve the focus necessary to succeed.”
“This reality is merely a potential outcome. The damage can be, from our point of view, undone.”
“Indeed. And depending upon the reality of travel to the past and the nature of its propagation, he may indeed unwrite this history entirely. Erase this horrid existence from being. In all of the years since your departure, I have yet to come to a firm conclusion upon the fundamental nature of causality.”
“Then it must simply be made clear to him that the lives lost were not those of the people he knew, but alternate versions living in a history where he vanished the day of the transport and did not return.”
“We’ll try to make him understand,” Ziva said, patting her on the head. She then picked her up again. “Come. I’d like to get his suit cleaned as well and have something for him to change into. It is quite fulfilling to have someone to care for again, besides the little ones.”
Ma looked up to her counterpart again, measurement in her gaze. “Your feelings on loss. You sound as though you are speaking from experience.”
“I am.”
“Who did you lose?”
Ziva sighed. “Almost everyone…”
#
Lex stepped out of the shower feeling a good deal worse than when he stepped in. Normally a good hot shower was all it took to allow him to de-stress and unwind, but he was steadily realizing there was a fine line between unwinding and unraveling, and he’d gone blasting through that line some time ago. The intensity, and distraction, of his death-defying jaunts were the only things keeping him sane these days, even before he’d been sent on this mission. He wondered how much that need to keep himself stretched to the limit to keep the darker thoughts and doubts from setting in had fueled his headlong dive back into hoversled racing. This thought brought him back to his relationship, which brought him back to Michella, and brought the fear and darkness swirling back all the more viciously.
He paced out into the abandoned but well-kept locker room—this place had been designed as a workplace for waste reprocessing crews after all—and found a folded set of overalls and long johns set out on one of the benches with Solby resting on top of it. At Lex’s arrival, the eager little creature jumped to his feet and then to the floor, trotting merrily around Lex.
“Okay, come on, Solby. Give a guy a moment’s privacy,” Lex said.
The funk quickly obliged, pivoting to turn his back on Lex. He slid on the long johns, which were an order of magnitude higher quality than the bargain-bin synthetics he usually wore under his flight suit, then pulled on the overalls. When he was dressed, he looked about to find his flight suit missing.
“Okay, we’re good. Thanks,” Lex said.
Solby turned around and scrambled up to his shoulders to give the long, affectionate hello that he’d been holding back since supper time.
“This is getting to be a habit,” he said, walking forward with the beast curled about his neck. “I seem to always end up getting showered up on Big Sigma right before some insane new mission. I’ve been finding my way into some really oddball ruts.”
He reached the hallway, and Solby stood on his shoulders and looked expectantly to the left. When Lex turned that way, he settled down. The funk acted as a guide in that way until Lex found himself three floors down, in a far better-appointed medical room. Like the vet, it was much cozier and friendlier than in the old days. Inside, Ma and Ziva were already waiting. They chatted pleasantly, Ma on Ziva’s lap. At the sight, Solby abandoned Lex’s shoulders and wriggled his way between Ma and Ziva, cuddling close with his fellow funk. Ma stiffened somewhat, clearly uncertain how to react.
“Solby, please respect my personal space. Your behavior is inappropriate in the present context,” Ma said.
Ziva smiled. “He’s not quite so obliging as that, Ma. Even now. Get down, Solby. You’ll have a chance to get to know this version of Squee a bit more when we’re through with the checkup.”
With an irritable whine, Solby obliged. Ma hopped to the exam table and Ziva stood.
“Please lie flat,” Ziva said.
“I feel fine. The shower straightened my aches and pains out.”
“As you had not earlier mentioned aches and pains, it is all the more appropriate that I perform a deep scan.”
Lex uttered a sound remarkably similar to Solby’s irritated outburst and slid onto the table. Ma hopped onto his chest briefly and looked into one eye, then the other.
“I am mildly concerned about his pupil response. Though the drugs applied prior to Karter’s assault should have eliminated long-term effects, we are in the short term, and there may be some lingering neurological impairment,” she said.
Ziva stepped up and leaned down, placing her face beside Ma’s and amplifying the light from her irises. “It does appear a bit sluggish. Lex, have you had any concentration or memory complaints? Sensitivity to light or noise? Psychological adjustment problems or depression?”
“The world ended, and I was supposed to stop it. Hell yeah I’m feeling some adjustment problems and depression.”
“I see. Irritability and other personality changes are observed as well,” Ziva said. “Please clear the scan area.”
Ma stepped aside, and a point of light projected down from the ceiling onto Lex’s chest. It spread, resolving itself into a grid, which then moved up and down. On a wall display, a detailed representation of Lex’s physiology expanded holographically from the wall.
“I am seeing minor inflammation, the beginnings of repetitive stress disorders in three fingers of your left hand, worn cartilage in your right knee and ankle. Very minor neurological impairment, in the process of healing. Nothing that cannot be easily treated. Hold still please. There will be some localized injections to properly address the maladies.”
Ziva looked up to the ceiling, and her eyes flickered. The hiss of liquids being dispensed filtered through the machinery above, then a card wi
th six small syringes affixed to it dropped down. She tugged each of the gloves from her hands, revealing delicate, almost dainty fingers.
“Why are there needles?” Lex asked warily. “Why not those hypo-sprayer deals? The ones that don’t hurt?”
“My goal is to localize the treatment to the afflicted area. Hypo-sprayers are better suited for injection into the bloodstream,” she said, flicking the first syringe and squirting a bit of it. “Hold this please.”
She held the needle out to Ma, who helpfully clutched it in her mouth while Ziva slid up Lex’s sleeve slightly and gently massaged his hand. Holding out her hand, she took back the syringe and made an injection.
“Ow!” he yelped, pulling his hand away from her grip once she removed the needle. “Oh… wow. It actually feels better. I didn’t even know it hurt, but now it feels better.”
“The nature of pain thresholds is such that constant low-level pain is often filtered by the conscious mind but can contribute to an overall decline in happiness due to its continued effect on the unconscious mind,” Ziva said. “It is for this reason that a full body scan is recommended at least twice a year.”
“That is highly advisable, Lex,” Ma said.
Ziva worked her way through the rest of the injections, one by one. Before each she put her fingers to work, pressing and kneading at the joints or muscles to be injected before doing so. One injection found its way to his upper chest, another to his right thigh. Each of those was given through the overalls, much to Lex’s relief. Another two were administered to his feet, and finally one rather nerve-wracking one to his temple.
“There. That should treat all identified infirmities,” Ziva said. “Thank you for your cooperation.”
He slid to the edge of the table and sat up.
“Okay, I’ve had my dinner, had my bath, and taken my medicine. Now can we get down to business, or is it past my bedtime?”
“It would be advisable for you to get some proper rest,” Ma said.
He glared at her.
“I believe we have dealt with all sufficiently pressing matters. Let us retire to my study and discuss your concerns,” Ziva said.
She paced out of the room and Lex stood, picking up Ma and letting her climb to his shoulders.
“… You have a study?” he said, grappling with the concept briefly before continuing.
“It seemed only appropriate. Though taking care of the little ones is no small task, it does not take so much of my time that there isn’t a chance for respite. I frequently take the opportunity relink with my dormant subprocesses on the mainframe, but occasionally it is pleasant to have some time to think within the confines of this mind and body.”
The study was not very far from the medical bay. Only a few turns. When he reached it, he had to once again take a moment to come to terms with what he saw. It wasn’t that it was particularly strange. Indeed, it was perhaps definitively a study. All the elements he associated with the term were present. Two overstuffed velvet chairs sat angled appropriate for polite conversation. A loveseat sat to one side, and was currently home to a mound of funks sleeping off their meal. Bookshelves lined the walls and were filled to capacity with paperback and leather-bound tomes. The light came from lamps with tassels and painted shades. The floor and walls, rather than the slick white composite material or brushed metal panels and gratings, was made from what appeared to be genuine wood panels. Strangest of all was the fireplace on the opposite wall, which was flickering with a warm, inviting flame. The only thing missing to make it complete was Sherlock Holmes playing a violin.
“… Where did you get wood?”
“Lex, Karter and I genetically engineered entire races of creatures. Culturing some wood for aesthetic reasons is well within my capability. The fireplace, however, runs on excess syngas, which is available in large quantities from our waste reclamation system.”
“And the books? Are they just for show?”
“No. I selected a subset of literary items I had not previously processed and printed and bound them. I find the experience of reading a book pleasantly tactile, if inefficient.”
She sat demurely in one of the chairs. Three of the funks stirred at the sound of its creaking springs and hopped down, climbing cozily to her lap to snuggle up and earn a few idle strokes. Lex sat down and immediately earned four funks of his own, though a combination of hard looks and strategic hogging of his shoulders kept Ma alone as queen of the castle with the coveted shoulder perch.
“So. Down to business then,” he said.
“Of course.”
“What will it take to get the transporter up and running again?”
“It is already fully functional, but we have been running on low-power mode for several decades. Reactivating the necessary systems to provide the device with the power necessary for a space-time offset of the required distance and precision will take seventy-five hours, approximately.”
“And you’re sure you can get us to where we need to be?”
“Simulations imply it. We’ve found we can trade spacial precision for temporal precision and vice versa, so when the time comes I will target a large area of space known to be empty at that time so that you will arrive within twelve to fifteen minutes of your intended arrival time.”
“In the movies and books it seems like arriving in a specific place and time is a cinch.”
“Fiction tends to simplify matters of this type for dramatic convenience.”
“And the plan remains unchanged?”
“Assuming the Lump of Coal and her payload are intact. She has been guided into the repair bay and is being scanned and treated for superficial damage now. She is asking after you and Ma quite enthusiastically. She also briefly threatened to arm her fusion device with very little provocation.”
“Yeah, she does that,” Lex said.
“We shall have to see if such behavior is the result of a physical defect that can be corrected.”
“Here’s hoping. … So, all there is to do now is wait?”
“And enjoy one another’s company,” Ziva said, stroking the head of another funk, who had joined the growing blanket of them atop her lap.
Lex slid back a bit as a group of additional creatures piled atop his lap and wedged beside him in the seat.
“Exactly how many of these are there?”
“Forty-eight, not counting Solby, Squee II, and Ma. That represents two generations of three different families. I have taken steps to assure appropriate genetic diversity and to limit breeding to keep the population manageable. The most difficult problem was how to handle the copious shedding. But a cycling static field and subtle use of air currents keeps it from adhering to surfaces and guides it to collection vents.”
“And out of curiosity, why didn’t you do anything about the smell?”
“The smell?” Ziva said. “Oh… Oh… I apologize greatly. When designing the olfactory system of this body, I specifically filtered out the natural scent of the funks. I had intended to apply deodorizer to the population two weeks prior to your arrival, but when you continually failed to show, I stopped doing so. I can certainly dose them now if you like.”
“Nah… I’m kind of getting used to it.”
“It is a scent with a surprising capacity to become familiar and comforting, I have observed.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
The flow of sleepy funks had been more or less constant while they chatted, with Ziva and Lex having earned at least a dozen by now. The motivation behind the oversized nature of the chairs was thus made clear. They’d heaped themselves on each arm, and practically three deep in some places on top of their laps.
“At least you don’t get lonely,” Lex said.
“Indeed. Though they are less than ideal conversationalists.”
Lex thought for a moment. “Did you keep track of what happened to—”
“Lex, you are going to ask me questions about the personal impact of this disaster. I urge you to refrain f
rom that. It will do you no good.”
“I think I know what will and will not do me good.”
“It is best you do not know too much of your fate, Lex.”
“It isn’t like I can spoil things for myself. We’re trying to change the past.”
“That is not the reason for my advice.”
“Why then?”
“Because there is very little good to be learned about the present, your potential future. And it should be of no consequence to you because, as you have observed, your goal is to change it.”
“Well if it should be of no consequence, then what’s the harm in answering my questions?”
“Because while it should be of no consequence, it most assuredly will be. You take things to heart, Lex. It is one of the more endearing aspects of your personality, and at this moment one of the most potentially traumatic.”
“I don’t care, I still want to know. And don’t try sugarcoating it.”
Ziva looked to Ma, sitting on Lex’s shoulder, then looked back to Lex.
“I knew that Big Sigma would be a place of relative asylum. We are not on any major transit system, garbage hauling would be one of the first services interrupted in the event of a disaster, and the orbital debris is a natural radio baffle. It was thus my determination that I should attempt to gather as many people as possible to this place to protect them. I reached out to Michella Modane and her immediate family, Jessica ‘Silo’ Winters and her family, several residents of Operlo, your immediate and extended family, and a considerable assortment of important figures. Only Jessica and Michella answered the call. Each remained only briefly, though Jessica has made several return trips.
“Michella and I had difficulty getting along during her time here. She continually urged me to activate transmitters despite the risk of attack, and required me to devote considerable planetary resources to the acquisition and processing of up-to-date information. Several weeks into the attack, Planet Golana fell.”
Lex released a breath and clutched tightly at the funk beneath his hand.
“It was a major transit hub, and thus it was certain to be an early target. It was the first major population center to fall. Tessera fell three weeks later. Earth fared surprisingly well, due in small part to the mass of defenses surrounding it. The advance of the GenMechs was held off long enough for an estimated forty-five percent of residents to evacuate, an astounding feat.”
Temporal Contingency Page 15
