Turncoat

by Deborah Chester

  “QWIP SEEKS INFORMATION.”

  “Yeah, Qwip wants to learn. I don’t care!” said Noel. “He’s trying to destroy me and those I—”

  “INCORRECT. QWIP IS NOT DESTRUCTIVE.”

  “Oh, yeah? And how about those instructions to terminate me?” retorted Noel.

  “INSTRUCTIONS WERE TERMINATION, NOT DESTRUCTION.”

  “Termination doesn’t equate with destruction in your vocabulary,” said Noel. Exasperated as well as bewildered, he ran his hands through his hair. “Since when? Qwip told me that termination is death. He’s threatened me with it from the first.”

  “I HAVE NO REFERENCE FOR DESTRUCTION.”

  That got Noel’s attention. He stared, boggled, at the light. “You don’t know what destruction is?”

  “I HAVE NO REFERENCE FOR DESTRUCTION.”

  “Destruction is to tear down, to damage, to cause death.”

  “I HAVE NO REFERENCE FOR DESTRUCTION. TERMINATION WAS RECOMMENDED BY ALL ANALYSIS. QWIP WAS INSTRUCTED TO TERMINATE YOU.”

  Noel drew in a sharp breath. “Define termination.”

  “CLOSURE OF ALL ACCESS.”

  “That’s all?”

  “CLOSURE OF ALL ACCESS.”

  Noel swore. “You mean, all this time Qwip was just supposed to shut the door? I thought you were trying to kill me.”

  “DEFINE KILL.”

  “Kill is destroy. Uh, to cause to die. To cause to cease to exist. Permanently.” Noel frowned. “No wonder Qwip kept asking me about death. You don’t know about that, do you? You’re energy. You can’t die. You don’t have bodies to decay.”

  “ENTROPY.”

  “Yes!” shouted Noel. “That’s the word. To terminate according to my references is to cause rapid entropy.”

  “THIS IS NOT OUR PURPOSE.”

  “Now you tell me. So Qwip was just supposed to shut the door, to get me away from your dimension?”

  “YES.”

  “But Qwip wants to see my dimension. He wants to go to my original coordinates.”

  “THIS IS KNOWN. QWIP HAS BEEN CORRUPTED BY CONTACT. TERMINATION ADVISED.”

  “I agree, if it means putting me out like a cat and shutting the door,” said Noel. “Qwip acts like a five-year-old who won’t go home. Is that what he is? A child?”

  “NO. YOU HAVE NO REFERENCE FOR QWIP DEFINITION.”

  Squashed, Noel raised his brows. “Okay. I’m glad we had this little chat. Can I go home now?”

  “AGREEMENT HAS NOT BEEN REACHED.”

  “Agreement? What agreement?” asked Noel with renewed suspicion.

  “YOUR THEORY REGARDING REPAIR OF TIME DISTORTION IS INCORRECT. DUAL RETURN OF SUBJECTS ONE AND TWO INSUFFICIENT SOLUTION.”

  “Fine,” said Noel, put out. “And I suppose you know how to fix it.”

  “YES.”

  “You do? Then—”

  “AGREEMENT HAS NOT BEEN REACHED.”

  Noel drew in an unsteady breath. “What do I have to do?”

  “QWIP WANTS TO LEARN.”

  Noel’s brows drew together. He opened his mouth, then turned his back on the light. It was another trick. He should have known this was too good to be true. He wasn’t talking to Qwip’s superior. He probably wasn’t even between. Qwip was playing games with his mind, trying to—

  “INCORRECT. I AM NOT QWIP.”

  “I don’t care,” said Noel hotly. “It works out the same. This is all to make me take Qwip home with me.”

  “INCORRECT. A SIMPLE QUESTION HAS BEEN POSTULATED. YOU WILL ANSWER.”

  “So you can’t get there by yourself. You can’t go down my particular time stream via your own technology. You require a transport…my LOC, for instance. Why? No reference linkage with my origin coordinates?”

  “CORRECT.”

  “Even Qwip, in possession of my LOC, can’t activate it. He can suppress some of its functions. But he can’t initiate the recall sequence.” Noel paused a moment. “Do you understand why you cannot enter?”

  “NO.”

  “That’s what I thought. Qwip didn’t get it either. Why don’t you want me in your dimension?”

  “YOU CANNOT FUNCTION. YOU LACK REFERENCES. EVEN IN NULL SPACE YOU CANNOT FUNCTION. YOUR SENSES LACK REFERENCES FOR WHAT THEY PERCEIVE; THEREFORE, THEY SUPPRESS INCOMING INFORMATION. YOU BELIEVE YOU ARE IN A VOID. THIS IS INCORRECT. TO ENTER OUR DIMENSION WOULD RENDER YOU COMPLETELY INCAPACITATED.”

  “Thank you,” said Noel with sarcasm. “Very well put. That’s my reason for denying Qwip access to my dimension.”

  “INCORRECT.”

  “Okay, mind reader. If I’m lying, what’s the truth?”

  “FEAR.”

  Noel waited. “That’s all?”

  “FEAR.”

  “Fear of what? You?”

  “FEAR.”

  “You think you’re superior to my kind, don’t you?”

  The globe of light shining through the mist did not respond.

  “You say you don’t know what death is. You say you don’t intend to destroy me or my dimension, but that’s just your word. Can I trust you? How? I have no references to base any trust on. Qwip, in my experience, has bounced from threats, to manipulation, to friendliness, to aggression. Qwip is not reliable. Qwip doesn’t reason the way I do. How can we communicate beyond a surface level? I’m not against contact, and if you want to send Qwip as an ambassador, then we should discuss that. But threatening me won’t work. To coerce me into taking Qwip when I believe his entry constitutes a danger to my world…no, I won’t agree. You can call that fear if you like. It doesn’t change my position.”

  The light said nothing. After a few seconds it vanished, leaving only the mist.

  “Great,” muttered Noel to himself. “Now what?”

  He wondered if he was going to be dropped back in the eighteenth century or left dangling out in nowhere.

  The mist swirled and darkened. At the center of the darkest point there appeared images. After a moment Noel recognized the corridors of the Time Institute. He took a step forward and clenched his fists, excited and hopeful.

  People appeared in the corridors. He watched, anxious to see someone he recognized. Yes, yes, there was Dr. Ellis, the beautiful medic. Wearing a soft green one-suit beneath her lab smock, she was sipping coffee and chatting with Trojan. Noel’s eyes widened. He felt his heart swelling with relief. Trojan was okay. He’d recovered from the accident. He was…

  Noel drew a sharp breath. Something was wrong. He frowned, concentrating. There was no sound, only visual. But this wasn’t current. The chronometer on the wall near Trojan’s shoulder read off a date two years ago. Noel blinked. He remembered that outfit Ellis had on. He’d met her and Trojan a few minutes after this, and they’d gone out to eat.

  They were playing one of his own memories to him.

  The image darkened, returning seconds later with fire raging in the same corridor. It was an electrical fire in the wall circuits. Flames kept bursting from the walls. Smoke boiled, and lights flashed in synchronization with the alarm he could not hear. He saw the walls bulge and twist unnaturally. A pair in environmental suits began to stagger and flail their arms. They twisted and contorted, and Noel winced, imagining their screams.

  The image vanished.

  It was replaced by a very grainy, indistinct projection. Lab 14 lay in waste. Equipment had exploded. Debris had reduced the room to rubble. Bodies were half-buried in it. Staring at the general destruction, Noel swallowed. The time portal itself was a blackened maw. Yet as he gazed at it, he winced and had to quickly avert his eyes. It was still active, still drawing in. He noticed that objects near it were out of perspective. A chill touched him. An active portal, left unsupervised, would eventually draw all surrounding objects into itself. The lab was collapsing into it very slowly. It was as inevitable as being consumed by a black hole.

  This image also vanished. Nothing replaced it.

  Standing there in the mist, Noel understood what he’d been sho
wn. The Institute as it had been. The Institute as it was when he last left it. The Institute as it would be.

  He felt hollow with helplessness. From the first day of his training he had been taught that no matter what occurred, no matter what he might encounter in travel, whether in the past or in between, he was to avoid prolonged contact with others. He was not to bring back anyone or anything other than small inanimate objects. The potential risks were too enormous.

  And yet if he had a chance to end the distortion, if he could save the Institute from destruction, what choice did he have but to take the risk? Was unleashing the unpredictable Qwip on his century worse than annihilation?

  The light returned, brighter and bigger than before, making him squint.

  “AGREEMENT HAS BEEN REACHED?”

  Noel swallowed hard. “Two conditions.”

  The light said nothing.

  “First, you stop the distortion before I enter the time stream. Is that possible?”

  “CONCURRENT ENTRY REQUIRED.”

  “All right. Condition two, you tell Qwip to return control of the LOC to me. I can’t have interference with the functions.”

  “QWIP WILL REMAIN.”

  “Fine. Qwip can ride in the LOC. I’d rather have him in it than in me. But I have control over its functions. He cannot override.”

  “AGREEMENT HAS BEEN REACHED.”

  Noel hesitated. “Do you agree to my conditions?”

  “AGREEMENT HAS BEEN REACHED.”

  “I guess that’s a yes,” said Noel. “I hope it’s a yes.”

  “CONCURRENCE REQUESTED.”

  Dr. Rugle is going to fire me, Noel thought unhappily. “Yeah, okay. I agree. I concur. We have a deal.”

  The mists vanished, and the lights went out. Noel hit the ground with a thump that jarred his teeth. He was back in the shadows behind the guardhouse, the sounds of normal camp activity a murmur in the distance.

  Noel sat up with a soft grunt and tried to reorient himself. So what happened now?

  “Qwip?” he said softly. “You out here?”

  Qwip did not reply.

  Frowning, Noel tapped his ring. “LOC, activate and keep disguise mode.”

  It pulsed warmly against his finger.

  “I want to talk to Qwip.”

  “There is no data available on Qwip,” said the LOC in muted tones. “Please specify.”

  “Qwip, if you’re in there, talk to me,” said Noel.

  “Do you wish Qwip scanned?” asked the LOC.

  “Yeah, scan for Qwip.”

  “Specify identification factors. Qwip is not in data banks.”

  “Run an internal scan,” said Noel. “Do you have any nonintegrated interference with your functions?”

  “Negative.”

  “No interference at all?”

  “Negative. All functions scan normal.”

  “And would you tell me otherwise?” muttered Noel worriedly.

  “I am not programmed to lie.”

  “No,” said Noel, “but Qwip is.”

  “I cannot identify Qwip.”

  “Okay. How’s recall sequence mode? Everything still ready? Still in contact with the portal? Is the time stream clear?”

  “Time stream is clear. All functions normal.”

  “Okay. Stand by.”

  Noel climbed to his feet and gazed around. As far as he could tell, his conversation in between had resulted in nothing. So why had they struck the bargain? For a joke? Was it another trick? He was getting tired of the whole thing.

  But it was clear nothing was happening. He and Leon hadn’t been popped into the time stream. Leon was still locked up, and he was still standing out here in the dark, wondering what the hell he should do.

  “Damn,” he said. “LOC, deactivate.”

  And he trudged off in search of Sergeant Clovis.

  Chapter 20

  Slogging across the camp and fuming, Noel nearly bumped into two officers.

  “Sorry,” he said and went around them.

  One glanced at him with mild curiosity, but they resumed their conversation and walked on. Not until then did Noel blink and turn around.

  Their faces were famous. The Marquis de Lafayette and the Baron Von Steuben…two aristocrats from Europe who had risked their lives to come here and participate in one of the world’s greatest political experiments. Goose bumps rose over Noel. Von Steuben—neither a real baron nor a real lieutenant general, yet a man who had given the American army discipline and military skills—was doing most of the talking, stabbing with his hand as he spoke. Lafayette had his hands clasped at his back. Now and then he nodded.

  With difficulty Noel recalled himself to his own business and went on. He found guards still stationed at Clovis’s door. Men still came and went busily. The door had remained propped open with the stick, and lantern light spilled out hazily, combined with a thick fog of tobacco smoke. Curled up on the ground in a blanket near the door, Robert lay asleep. The light gleamed on his blond hair. He looked like a child.

  The guards had changed. Noel had to explain himself again.

  One of the men glanced at Robert. “You’re the one he’s been waiting for.”

  “Yes.”

  “Good boy.”

  Noel was getting impatient. “Yes, he is. Most of the time.”

  “I have two boys,” said the man proudly. “Not as old. I haven’t seen them in a couple of—”

  “What is this?” called Clovis’s voice irritably from inside, “a sewing circle? Maartsen, keep your big mouth shut when you’re on duty.”

  He appeared in the doorway, his pipe clamped in his toothless mouth, his bald head gleaming in the light. He stared at Noel. “You again. I heard about what happened in the guardhouse. Your brother is a bad ’un. Rather strangle you than make his peace with God, eh?”

  “Apparently. I’d like to see him once more,” said Noel.

  Clovis shifted his gaze to Robert, still sleeping. “This boy yours?”

  “I’m acquainted with his older sister.”

  Clovis grunted. “Doesn’t belong here.”

  “He tagged along without permission. He’ll be leaving.”

  “Good. A man deserves his last night of rest.”

  “My brother,” said Noel grimly, “is not sleeping. May I see him again?”

  “Want to be choked again, eh?”

  “Not really. There’s something else I have to say to him.”

  Clovis frowned, looking suspicious. Noel wanted to yell at him to get on with it, but he held his temper. Playing humble was hard, but he did his best.

  “We’ll have the condemned men up at four. The chaplain will go round in case anyone wants prayers. You can talk to your brother then.”

  Noel bit back his impatience and nodded. “Thank you.”

  With a grunt, Clovis went back to work.

  The quiet hours of the night ground by. Wrapped in his cloak by a fire, Noel sat waiting. Sometimes he dozed a bit, but he was too wired to sleep. Qwip never did appear. He could not tell what would happen in recall. But he was committed to going through with it.

  The starlight twinkled above him. He watched the slow wheel of the constellations and sent up a little benediction of his own. Please let the future survive. Please don’t let these soldiers’ actions go in vain.

  He had visions of time marching forward past this battlefield to some point in the years ahead where the distortion would meet it. Then everything would just fall into it, and vanish forever.

  A nightmare awakened him with a start. He jerked up his head, breathing hard, his heart going too fast. A small contingent of soldiers marched quietly past, double file, their muskets at their shoulders. Throwing back his cloak, Noel climbed stiffly to his feet and followed them.

  By the time he reached the guardhouse, they were waking the condemned men. Noel heard the sounds of someone being struck. Another man was sobbing. Someone else was begging for mercy. He did not hear Leon’s voice.

&nbs
p; “In here,” said a guard gruffly to him and put him back in the small, windowless room where he’d talked to Leon earlier.

  A few minutes later the door banged open and a struggling Leon was dragged bodily inside. They shoved him to the floor and fastened his chains to a bolt.

  “Stay out of his reach this time,” said one of the guards to Noel. They left, shutting the door with a slam.

  “You again,” sneered Leon. He lay on the floor, breathing hard, and made no effort to get up. Noel suspected he’d been beaten. “What do you want this time? My forgiveness? Go to hell.”

  “Shut up.”

  Noel knelt beside him and gripped his wrist, hanging on when Leon tried to shake him off.

  “Leave me alone! Leave me alone!”

  “LOC,” said Noel. “Activate recall sequence now.”

  The LOC flashed. “Acknowledged. Stand by for countdown.”

  Leon was still struggling. His face was a mask of rage and bewilderment. “What are you doing? You said it wouldn’t work.”

  “It’s working now,” said Noel, tightening his grip. “Be still!”

  “Why is it working?” asked Leon suspiciously. “What did you do? You couldn’t fix it. What’s going on?”

  “It’s fixed,” said Noel.

  “But that thing…Qwip! What about Qwip?”

  “Qwip’s been taken care of.”

  “What have you done? Look at me and tell me what you’ve done?”

  But Noel kept his gaze fixed on the LOC. It was flashing with increasing rapidity. He counted the seconds.

  “Recall sequence on-line,” intoned the LOC. “Warning…fourteen seconds to dissolve.”

  “I don’t trust you. I—”

  Noel gripped his shoulder and faced him then. “Leon, don’t fight me this time. Just this once, trust me.”

  “Trust you? Hah!”

  “Nine seconds to dissolve,” said the LOC.

  Noel stared at Leon urgently, trying to get his will across. “Stay with me this time.”

  “Yes, and be recombined,” Leon said with a sneer. “No.”

  “Five seconds to dissolve,” said the LOC.

  Noel struck Leon across the face. “Do what I tell you or we’ll both perish!”