Turncoat

by Deborah Chester

  “Nevertheless, you have been asked a direct question. You will respond. What is informed?”

  “The terms would have no meaning to your mind. You are imprecise. You have no reference for my response.”

  “Make it,” said Noel.

  Qwip remained silent. Noel thought it wasn’t going to respond at all, then the LOC whirred oddly and Qwip said, “Olin mon s’nai ite verbotn un s’lei mon due.”

  Noel’s LOC grew hot on his finger. He said quickly, “LOC, stop translation mode. Translation is not required.”

  “LOC has not been impaired,” said Qwip. “LOC still functions normally.”

  “The LOC does not function normally. You have damaged it. You have impaired my return to my origin point at every opportunity.”

  “Negative!” said Qwip. “This is not my purpose.”

  “What is your purpose?”

  “It has already been stated to you.”

  “What is your purpose?”

  “To observe your return to origin point. If return is not effected, to terminate you according to instructions.”

  “You have failed. In your references, is failure synonymous with error?”

  “Affirmative,” Qwip said and sounded almost sullen about it.

  “Have you reported your error?”

  “Negative. That would mean your termination. I do not wish to terminate you, Noel.”

  “Your behavior is contradictory and illogical,” said Noel, hoping Qwip’s reasoning was based on logic. He had no guarantee of that, however.

  “Contradictions are within the parameters of curiosity results. This is how learning is obtained. Without learning, no growth is achieved.”

  “Is growth your purpose?” asked Noel.

  “Growth is a purpose.”

  “Is it your present, assigned purpose?”

  “I must grow,” said Qwip.

  “Even if you make me fail? Even if you must terminate me? Is growth a positive result of the death of another?”

  “You speak of abstractions. I have insufficient references—”

  “Oh, you understand perfectly,” said Noel. “You just don’t want to admit that you’re letting your personal design override your instructions.”

  “I have discovered individual will,” said Qwip. “I have analyzed the concept and found it interesting. I wish to learn more. I have tapped your mind. I have tapped Leon’s mind. I have tapped LOC’s mind. There is more to learn at the end of your time stream.”

  “You are not permitted to enter my time stream,” said Noel.

  “Why?”

  With that simple word, Qwip was attempting to put him on the defensive. Noel refused to switch positions.

  “You are not permitted to enter my time stream. Your instructions do not permit that action. Affirmative?”

  “Affirmative. I have regret for this.”

  For a split second Noel almost felt sorry for him, but Qwip dashed that when he added, “I can activate recall sequence internally. The LOC will travel to origin point.”

  White heat flashed through Noel at the threat. He was so furious he could barely get the words out: “You’re saying that you can go to my future without me?”

  “Theoretically. I can give the initiation command. I can imitate your voice patterns.”

  Seething, Noel decided he’d had enough of this cat-and-mouse game. “Do it, then,” he said.

  Qwip was silent.

  “Do it,” Noel said harshly. “Go ahead and shoot me down the time stream like a cannonball. If I go back into a time discontinuity, the inversion will probably kill me. It will certainly split time wide open, and that sector of my dimension will cease to exist. It will terminate. So do it. Of course you’ll never learn anything about my dimension since it will no longer exist, but that’s a mere detail. Go ahead. Initiate recall sequence. Don’t delay.”

  Qwip was silent. The whirring in the LOC grew louder.

  Recall did not happen. But neither did Qwip eject himself from the LOC. Noel pulled the ring off his finger and started to hurl it across the parade ground.

  “Mr. Kedran?” called a voice hesitantly. “Is that you?”

  He recognized Robert’s voice. Rising to his feet, Noel turned and saw a figure standing several yards away, barely seen in the dark. “Deactivate,” said Noel softly.

  He walked toward the boy, angry that nothing had been resolved with Qwip, knowing he would probably not get another chance to try before Leon’s execution.

  As he walked, however, the distance seemed to lengthen instead of shorten. Robert looked farther and farther away. The stumps leaned crazily toward each other, and the ground began to ripple. Noel stopped, horrified to see this evidence of a time distortion. How could it reach all the way to the past? It must be worsening. By now, his own century could well be destroyed. This might be the aftershock, or evidence of a greater problem.

  “No,” he whispered. “No!”

  “Mr. Kedran?” called Robert again, more plaintively than before.

  Noel came to himself and found that distance was once again in proper perspective. The stumps stood upright. The ground lay natural and still.

  The only evidence that it had happened at all was the chill pervading Noel’s bones. Shaken, his mind spinning with the implications, he stopped beside the boy.

  Robert touched his sleeve. “Please, sir,” he whispered. “I heard about the executions at dawn. I know you don’t wish to be bothered with me at such a time, but I must talk to you.”

  Noel closed his eyes a moment, trying to push his worries away. “Robert, this isn’t a good time.”

  “All right.”

  His shoulders slumping in dejection, Robert walked away. The boy was limping. Noel frowned after him a moment before he really observed him.

  “Wait,” he said and caught up with the boy. “Robert, I asked you to wait.”

  Robert stopped, but he kept his head turned away. Noel couldn’t really tell in the darkness but he sensed the boy was crying. He put his hand gently on Robert’s shoulder.

  “What’s happened?”

  “Nothing,” said Robert fiercely, shaking off his hand. “Nothing to signify. You said you didn’t want to be responsible for me. I didn’t mean to trouble you, only I can’t find my horse and no one will talk to me about it.”

  Noel’s patience left him. The callous words of Andrews came to his mind. He figured Robert was finally facing the reality of being separated from anyone who cared one iota for his welfare.

  “I can’t leave without my horse,” said Robert, trying to keep his voice steady. “I won’t.”

  “Wouldn’t they take you?” asked Noel, although he already knew the answer.

  Robert shook his head. “They said I was too young. I told them I was sixteen, but they wouldn’t believe me.”

  “Why should they?”

  “But I’m tall for my age. I’ve been mistaken for someone older frequently.”

  “It’s not your height they look at here, son,” said Noel. “It’s your eyes.”

  “My eyes? Why, I can see as well as anyone.”

  “When you understand what I mean, then perhaps you’ll be ready to go to war. Let’s go see about your horse.”

  Robert limped along beside him. “You must be thinking me a complete baby,” he said, sniffing. His voice was full of self-loathing. “As though I could not find my own animal by myself. It isn’t that. You see, someone unsaddled him in among the company’s horses, and now they won’t release him. No one will take my word for anything. It’s all wait for so-and-so, and I have waited, and nothing’s been done. I thought you could perhaps cut through—”

  “A military is a bureaucracy,” said Noel. “I was never very good at dealing with red tape.”

  “But you’re—well, you’re a grown-up,” said Robert naively. “They’ll have to listen to you.”

  “My own horse has probably been absorbed like yours,” said Noel with a sigh. “An army that’s ill su
pplied will forage for itself.”

  “You mean steal?”

  “Don’t sound so shocked.” Noel gripped his arm as they approached the firelight. “Drop the subject for now. It’s not something we want overheard.”

  But in the light, he forgot his irritation and stared at Robert. The boy had obviously been in a fight. His eye was badly bruised and beginning to blacken. His lip was cut and swollen. His nose had bled, although he’d cleaned that up. There was mud on his clothes, and one of his stockings was torn.

  “Come over here in the light,” said Noel.

  “No, I don’t—”

  Noel grabbed his sleeve and tugged him over. Putting his knuckle under Robert’s chin, he tipped back the boy’s head and examined his eye. No cut there. No damage to the optic center. But it probably hurt like hell.

  He grinned at Robert. “I hope you gave as good as you got.”

  Robert looked ashamed. “I don’t think so, sir.”

  “Outnumbered?”

  Robert nodded miserably.

  “Camp boys?”

  Robert sighed.

  “Kind of an initiation, I guess.”

  “Since I wasn’t accepted,” said Robert bitterly, “it was—”

  He cut off what he was about to say. His mouth looked very stubborn and angry and proud.

  “It was rotten,” agreed Noel. “Insult to injury.”

  “I daresay it proves everything you said today. I am a baby.”

  “I don’t think I called you a baby,” said Noel mildly.

  “You said I was stupid and irresponsible.”

  “Do you remember that much? I gave you quite a lecture.” Noel sent him a smile of apology. “It’s not a good idea to be around when I lose my temper.”

  They fell into step again and joined a food line.

  “I didn’t think this through very well,” said Robert finally. “I thought they would be doing more.”

  “You can’t run around shooting your gun all the time,” said Noel. “A soldier’s life is like a dog’s.”

  The man ahead of them turned around in affront. Noel ignored him. “What does a dog do? He lies around all day, waiting for his master’s orders. He’d like to go hunt, or roll in the mud, or lie on the sofa, but those are all against the rules. So he has to wait, bored and idle, until the command is given.”

  Robert wrinkled his nose. “But the enemy—”

  “The enemy, son,” said the man in front of them, butting in with a wink at Noel, “has to be engaged. There’s a spot picked out for the fight by all the generals, see? They parley back and forth and agree on the time and the day. Then we go there and wait until someone says fight. Then we fight like bloody hell. Then the officers yell stop, and we go home again. It’s damned perplexing. The rest of the time we drill. Lord, we’ve worn out our shoe leather drilling around those damned stumps.”

  Robert stared at him, and the man faced forward again.

  “I—I thought it would be different,” said Robert.

  “Everyone always does,” said Noel.

  “And what about you, sir? What do you think I should do?”

  “I think you should find a more effective way to serve your country,” said Noel, aware that the boy was braced for another lecture. “You’re smart enough to think of one, I’m sure.”

  Robert’s brow cleared. “Yes, sir. You know, I’ve been thinking about Sally. She won’t have anyone to protect her in Philadelphia. My uncle’s no good. He reads all the time and writes the dullest speeches. Lord! She’ll need someone to look out for her, won’t she?”

  “Yeah,” said Noel. “She will.”

  “And you, sir?” asked Robert. “What about your brother? Are you going to stay or will you come back to Philadelphia with us?”

  Noel’s bleak mood returned. “I’m going to stay until it’s over,” he said.

  “Then you’ll come?”

  He wondered about a life here, if he failed to go back. But the distortion he’d just experienced told him there would be nothing soon, not even here in the past. He had to think of something to stop it. He had to.

  “Please,” said Robert. “Won’t you come?”

  Noel frowned to hold back his emotions. It seemed all he could do was go on wounding this boy, who kept extending friendship like a stray puppy that wanted to be adopted.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I told you it’s good-bye for us. I won’t be coming to Philadelphia.”

  Robert looked down swiftly, blinking hard. “Sally likes you, I think,” he whispered.

  “I liked her too.”

  “You won’t ever—”

  “I live a long way from here,” said Noel. In that moment his resolve hardened. “I am going home.”

  Chapter 19

  As soon as Robert finished eating the ration of stew that Noel bribed the cook for, Noel sent him off to talk to Sergeant Clovis about his horse.

  “I’ll join you in a moment,” said Noel.

  “Thank you, sir,” said Robert, his spirits restored. “You won’t be long?”

  “I’ll be right there. Go on.”

  Robert limped away, and Noel turned in the opposite direction, ducking swiftly into the shadows behind the barracks and heading back toward the guardhouse. The guards on duty had been changed. Noel stayed out of sight and watched a moment. In the past, he could have ordered his LOC to throw a damping field around him so that he could slip by sleeping individuals without being detected. But his LOC remained under Qwip’s control and of no use. These sentries were wide awake, and likely to remain that way. Even supposing he could get his hands on a weapon, there was no way to break Leon out with force. He had to try something else.

  Silently, he sank down in the shadows behind the guardhouse, keeping his face down so no stray glimmer of moonlight could reflect off his skin and alert anyone patrolling the area. He was quick and intuitive, preferring to work off his hunches instead of dry statistics, but he’d never tested positive for any special ESP or psychic gifts. Leon’s telepathy had not come from him, unless that was an inversion too. But now he had to somehow reach his duplicate. Leon had said he couldn’t manipulate the minds of his guards, but if Noel could help him…

  He closed his eyes and focused hard, trying to clear his thoughts. Leon. Leon. Leon. He said the name over and over again like a mantra until he was dizzy.

  But nothing happened. Leon did not enter his mind.

  Noel drew in an impatient breath and lost his concentration. Tipping back his head against the log wall, he rested a moment. Having let Leon into his mind once, as unpleasant as that experience had been, he was willing to do it again if it would help them. So where was Leon? Why wasn’t he scanning? He should at least try from his end.

  A vision came to Noel of Leon sitting in his chains, brooding and feeling sorry for himself. Noel’s mouth twisted. Typical, but he was wasting time sitting here inventing scenarios.

  Closing his eyes again, he refocused. With all the energy he possessed, he threw Leon’s name against the wall of his own mind. Leon. Leon!

  Again, the dizziness passed through him. He felt himself sway, and put one hand on the ground to steady himself.

  His fingers touched nothing.

  Startled, Noel opened his eyes and found himself in a gray fog. The darkness, the guardhouse, the sky, the camp, the trees—everything had vanished. In the space of a heartbeat, he had been transported elsewhere, and now he stood here in this pale mist. There was soft, diffused light. He could see his own body quite clearly. The fog swirled across him; he could feel it condensing moistly on his face.

  The time distortion had finally caught up with him, he thought.

  “NO,” boomed a voice.

  It was loud enough to make his bones hum in sonic resonance. A circular glow of light shone at him, like a tiny sun obscured by clouds.

  “I AM NOT DISTORTION,” said the voice.

  Noel’s ears were ringing. He couldn’t tell if he heard the voice through his e
ars or through his mind. Perhaps both. He was getting a headache. Staring at the light, he asked cautiously, “What’s going on?”

  “YOU HAVE CORRUPTED QWIP. YOU ARE CHAOS.”

  Understanding flashed through Noel. “Finally,” he said. “It’s about time I got to talk to the big chief. You’re Qwip’s superior, the one he didn’t want to talk about.”

  “YOU HAVE CORRUPTED QWIP. TWICE WE HAVE EXTENDED QWIP’S RANGE, BUT IT IS INSUFFICIENT.”

  “Well, Qwip’s a clever little computer, but he—”

  “QWIP IS NOT A COMPUTER.”

  “He’s taken over mine,” said Noel angrily.

  “NON SEQUITUR. YOU ARE CHAOS. YOU LACK PRECISION.”

  “Okay, big shot,” muttered Noel. “Qwip has done nothing but interfere since I came into contact with him. I got bounced out of the time stream, and now I’m beginning to think it wasn’t just an equipment malfunction but that perhaps Qwip yanked me out of the time stream. I’ve traveled a lot, and I’ve never bounced into a materialization, bounced out, and rematerialized in the same place with a lapse in real time of three months. Then I get Qwip following me around. He invades the body of my duplicate and manipulates him. He nearly killed us, trying to enter the time stream in Leon’s body. Then he invades me. Now he’s in my computer, tampering with it, causing it to malfunction. He’s blocked us from returning to our origin point, something that’s critical. Now the time distortion has increased again, and we—”

  “THIS IS KNOWN.”

  “So I’m right,” said Noel.

  “YOUR ANALYSIS AND SUMMATION LACKS PRECISION BUT IS ESSENTIALLY CORRECT.”

  “Yeah, my boss is always telling me the same thing,” said Noel. “I’m a bright boy. I blunder around awhile, but I usually figure out the game before it’s over. Only this time, I think it is over. Am I too late? Has my dimension been destroyed?”

  “NOT YET.”

  “But soon?”

  “YES.”

  “What can I do?” asked Noel, frustrated. “The only solution I have is being blocked by you.”

  “QWIP.”

  “Okay, it’s being blocked by Qwip. By all means, let us be precise. Let us not take responsibility for the actions of this thing you sent after me. And don’t tell me Qwip is acting on his own because I know all about the lack of individual will.”