Commander Roth Curtis looked and sounded irritated by my late arrival when I came to a halt in front of him. “Do you know how bad it looks when a Time Sentinel fails to arrive promptly?”
“I can only guess,” I said, sounding as apologetic as I could.
He saw through the shallowness of my apology without overstretching his imagination and quickly proceeded to explain my mission. “We’ve been warned about a temporal attack planned to alter the 2020 decision to build a bridge from Scotland to Northern Ireland.” He led us into the Chamber of Natural Sequence, a holographic display area that provides details of seismic disruption along a temporal path.
“With what intention?”
“To prevent the Northern Ireland land base for space flight being constructed.”
“That’s a problem for us because?”
“Our base in Northern Ireland won’t exist, and universal expansion shows this,” he said and pointed at a numerical reading, 00.0000025. “That’s the kind of expansion we’re expecting caused by the new Time-Pattern and the removal of the base.”
“Impressive and daunting both at the same time.” I glanced at the amount of data that I’d be required to upload before traveling to 2019, more than two gigabytes.
“The Sender Unit is waiting for you, Brodie.”
I made my way to the next room in which two Sender Unit staff (SU) were present. Both wore helmets with air-tight, white plastic suits and gloves. A tall glass booth sized for a single occupant sat in the center, surrounded by crystal and metal equipment that occupied most of the space around the booth. Joan materialized as I entered.
“I have a question,” Norse said. The display paused automatically.
“So soon,” Joan noted with her imitation of a weary sigh.
“Is this before or after you downloaded the information you needed?”
“The download process occurs inside the booth. It passes from Joan to me through an electric current that embeds in my memory. It uninstalls when my energy returns to the booth. Most of it is historical data that might be needed in the event that I’m disrupted from my original course of action.” I momentarily waited for further questions and wasn’t disappointed.
“Do we know how the Haze travel back in our time?” Norse asked.
Her question displayed how fast her mind was working, having already moved quickly to a new aspect that also challenged our science. “We have no idea.”
“That’s honest,” she replied.
“Why do you think that Brodie would lie? What would be the point?” Joan asked.
“The leadership tends to avoid creating panic. Lying is something they’ve used to do so in the past,” Norse replied unrepentantly. “Something of this magnitude is precisely why they’d lie. I mean, think about it. The Haze are entering our timeline and somehow managing to travel back in time when in our universe. We need to know how they’re doing it. I think this is the most important question facing all of us. We solve this, we solve how to stop them from destroying the universe.”
Norse was better than most novices attending their first day at the Academy. She was clearly confident and willing to put herself in harm’s way to get her opinion heard—an opinion that demonstrated strategic thinking and an ability to prioritize. We did need to figure out how the Haze were able to travel back in our time. Time travel required equipment to send us. Did they need equipment too, and if they did, where were they hiding it? Some scientists theorized they might be able to travel anywhere simply because they were Gasiform creatures. I didn’t buy it. Time travel was complicated, and the idea that any creature could not only visit our universe but also travel back in its timeline without assistance seemed too incredible.
“Our scientists are working on it, so don’t congratulate yourself for thinking of something new,” I told her. “Joan, continue the recording.”
The holograph continued showing me inside the booth as its glass door sealed closed. The operators were double-checking the functioning of the crystal machines before starting a small machine at the base of the booth that set off a bright, green-and-yellow illumination above my head. A thin film of mist rose inside from somewhere below, blurring my image. My eyes closed as I appeared to fall asleep before the lights abruptly dimmed, swiftly followed by a sudden brilliant, blinding flash.
A new image materialized. I was in a room behind a man working at a desktop computer. Its whirring and his tapping a keyboard were loud in an otherwise quiet setting. Beside him sat a pile of paper documents with a writing pen resting on top.
“Is the amount of space occupied by this single individual typical? It’s amazingly huge!” Brown asked, visibly amazed.
With a population in the trillions, Earth’s solar system was especially congested. The artificial extension of human lifespans on Earth was partly responsible, although humanoid life cycles throughout the universe differed greatly due to their environment. Andromedins were the longest-lived, capable of reaching five hundred years, while those on Jenssen, otherwise known as 55 Cancri E, just forty light-years away from Earth, lived to around thirty-five. Earth itself, now categorized as a Food Producer World (FPW), kept just below a third of the human population. Even so, with each Earth human capable of living 150 years, population growth remained an issue.
Managing the enormous numbers of people who required accommodation forced the leadership into a corner that could not be answered by simply sending thousands to colonize other planets. Earth was the mother world to many human settlements spread out across the universe. A solution arrived in the shape of Orb Sky Cities constructed from alien plastics and equipped with Negate-Gravity engines, which allowed them permanent airspace above the land. It was similar below the surface of the sea with underwater city orbs that provided a human workforce to farm the seas.
These huge orbs’ modules, made from lightweight, but strong materials, provided all city dwellers with accommodation, education, food dispensers, travel, research and development, and business centers. Limited space necessitated the creation of module dormitories for individuals to sleep, while community kitchens and lounges provided areas full of seating for people to congregate. Such features in orb cities became the norm even for families.
Sky cities and their orbital counterparts around the Earth were each built to accommodate one million inhabitants. Individual space remained at a premium while those beneath the sea were allowed to expand within limits. To any human accustomed to life in an orb, seeing an individual in such a room as the holograph depicted from a past period appeared extraordinary.
“Joan, pause recording,” I said and faced the class. “This is how Earth used to be. People lived without limitations to personal space, provided they could pay money for it.” I watched while Brown struggled with the concept of large areas available to individuals in 2020. “The energy transfer from Joan included orders from the leadership. They gave me four tasks to perform ... four victims to manipulate to prevent any delay to the Northern Ireland Scottish bridge construction set to begin in 2020. I encountered Haze targeting the victims I visited.”
I’d been moving around the room without realizing it and sat down. In front of us, the holograph of a large room with its single occupant remained fixed. The room was tastefully furnished for the day, dominated by a redwood desk with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and a rich-red carpet. Large portraits of other politicians hung on the walls, which were colored blue, unlike the sterile white found everywhere on Earth today. Behind the desk, the occupant sat poised at the keyboard.
“This is the first victim, The Right Honorable Norman Walker Member of Parliament. It was his job to sign off on the contract that had been selected.” Walker was in his mid-fifties with streaks of gray in his dark hair, a fleshy face, and brown eyes, fixed and unmoving, staring at the screen.
“Joan, please continue,” I said. “Note that the victim appears to be in a trance as the Haze attempts to interfere with his thoughts. This also happens when we do the sa
me. As I materialized, a Haze was attempting to prevent Walker from signing the paper documents to the side of him. The writing instrument on top of those paper documents is a pen. He would sign and authorize them with it. However, the Haze had already begun to alter his thoughts, so I had to move quickly. After an artificially inserted idea takes hold, the victim will follow it through without hesitation.”
“What’s that awful stench?” Kay and the others snatched their nostrils to cut off the putrid air.
“Hydrogen sulfide, the smell of rotten eggs,” I explained. “That’s another way to recognize a Haze is nearby.”
“You could’ve warned us!” he exclaimed, holding his breath. “Could we watch without the stench?”
“Joan, blank smells,” I ordered. The stench immediately disappeared, and the novices breathed a sigh of relief. “You won’t be able to turn off the stench when you meet the Haze for real.”
“Thank you,” Kay said, breathing normally again. “How do we overcome their technique of sowing an idea in a victim’s mind?”
“First, you must destroy the Haze. In this instance, I caught it by surprise. It’s the shadowy shape hovering over the victim. It’s a bubble about four by four. Notice the difference between the room lighting and the patch of semi-transparent dark where it is. That’s the most common sight you’ll see when they’re present. Joan, please pause the recording.”
The hologram paused. I used a finger to point at a large mirror hanging on the wall behind Walker’s desk. “Joan, zoom in on the mirror. If you look for a reflection of the Haze, you won’t find one.” I waited while they studied the reflection of the room and its victim.
“What about that silhouette of a figure? It looks humanoid,” Norse asked, studying a black outline tinged with gray.
“That’s me,” I said. “Our reflections are always visible in mirrors. Before you ask, I cannot explain why. On this occasion, there was just a single Haze. This record will demonstrate how to destroy it. Joan, please continue.”
As the hologram continued, the semi-transparent outline of the Haze turned grayish while remaining clearly visible above the victim. My energy moved forward, puncturing a thin outer skin of gas before being greeted by an interior coated in a bluish glaze. Centering within, I viewed my surroundings in an attempt to spot organs or a brain, but apart from a few bright energy flashes along the outer skin, nothing was visible.
“Joan, please pause the recording,” I said and turned to the class. “I was looking for some sign of a brain or organ, but as you can see, if they exist, they’re not visible. The interior appears completely empty.”
“Does that mean they don’t have brains?” Kay asked.
“Not as we understand it,” I replied. “Our scientists agree that they behave in a controlled way, and therefore, something must be directing them. Trouble is, these creatures are so different from anything we’ve encountered, it’s impossible as yet to recognize or understand what we’re seeing.”
“Could they be drones?” Norse asked.
“At this point, anything’s possible, and they’re investigating all possibilities, but even if they are, we should’ve spotted some kind of control mechanism.”
“What if the Haze are able to contact their ancestors in their own universe and instruct them to do what they want by traveling to our universe from different eras?” Brown voiced the suggestion, wearing a heavy frown that creased her youthful features but was unable to disguise her age.
“That’s one I haven’t heard,” I said honestly. It sounded intriguing, and I couldn’t help but smile. “Joan, send Brown’s suggestion to the leadership.”
“Done,” Joan replied within seconds.
“We really need to capture one,” Kay said, “so that we can study them.”
“Ever tried to catch a cloud?” I said.
“Are they all the same size?” Kay asked while staring at Brown, a streak of competitiveness in his tone.
“No, they vary. Blue are the smallest. The largest we’ve come across are twelve feet in diameter. They’re orange inside. We’re not sure what the different colors represent ... maybe from different planets or some kind of status?” Turning back to the hologram, I asked Joan to continue.
“The way in which we intensify our energy to dissolve a Haze tests our mental capability to the limit. It’s also a painful experience. Willing our temperature to increase requires total concentration; therefore, the moment you enter a Haze, you must begin. The strength of your ability to focus determines how quickly the heat reaches the required threshold.”
“Do differences between the alternative Haze make them more resilient to our attacks? I mean, are different colors affected more easily, blue more easily than green?” Norse asked.
“Not that we’ve noticed,” I said before continuing. “What you must not do is exceed the twenty-four-hour threshold. To do so could injure you and delay your return to your own time, hence the reason for an AI being with all Sentinels. They’re able to act as a monitor to prevent self-injury. Remember, although our energies are indestructible, they can still be damaged and scarred. Damage can cause changes in personality when you return ... some good, some less so. After a Haze has been terminated, you must ensure that the victim carries out the original actions for his or her timeline. By doing so, the Time-Pattern is destroyed, and the universe ceases its expansion.”
As we watched the hologram, the shadow cast by the Haze blurred as it began to dissipate, followed by what might have been a piercing scream before the shadowy figure vaporized and the light in the room became consistent again.
“Any questions?”
“Do you know if that sound was a Haze scream?” Norse asked.
“Maybe. We’re not sure. You think it relevant?”
“Of course,” she replied. “It means they can make sounds that we’re able to hear. Therefore, they can make sounds to communicate with us if they wish. The fact that they’re choosing not to do so is deliberate.”
“Good point,” I said, and then looked at Joan.
“Already sent, Brodie. The leadership has it.” Joan turned to the class. “It’s true, a fresh set of eyes can help.”
“You still have three tasks to perform. Did you need to perform all four to ensure that the Time-Pattern was destroyed?” Kay asked a little irritably. Two of his classmates had provided positive responses, making him feel left behind.
“Joan analyzes what’s happening to identify when a Time-Pattern is destroyed. In this instance, the aim of all four Haze was the same. They were simply using contingencies to cover their backs. Two of the contingencies would fail without our interference. Joan’s analysis showed that.”
“How?” Blundell asked.
“She assesses the probability of success against the chosen victim and what they’re being manipulated to do to create a new Time-Pattern. Anything assessed with a success possibility below twenty-five percent is no longer considered a threat.”
“Twenty-five percent is high,” Blundell replied in genuine surprise. A look at the others showed they shared his concern. “What you’re telling us is that you hope the Time-Pattern is destroyed because you certainly cannot confirm it by apportioning such a high threshold.”
“We can’t afford to remain longer than twenty-four hours in the past. A weakened thread places our return to the present at risk. We have to accept our own limitations, like it or not.” No one liked it, including me, but then, no one wanted to be left in the past either.
“What happens to our bodies if our energy doesn’t return within twenty-four hours?” Blundell was on a roll.
“The human body is a host that allows our energies to be accommodated to move around in this physical world. As such, when your energy leaves, the body has no driver. We can usually keep it alive artificially, but without energy, it will remain inert.”
“Has it ever happened? Energies not returning because they overstayed their visit to the past?”
“Joan, show t
hem.”
The holograph of my mission was immediately replaced by a holograph of a long room with dozens of hospital pods, each one occupied by an inert human body maintained by machines and AIs. The image mirrored that of a huge warehouse. The sight never failed to make the novices gasp.
“You now understand why we need more Sentinels.”
“It’s nothing to do with the Haze,” Norse said.
“Nor any other enemy. More to do with Sentinels trying to achieve success by overextending their stay. It’s well worth remembering if you don’t want your body to end up like them.”
“Why do you keep them?” Kay asked. “I mean, if they’re brain dead, what use are they?”
“If you were an energy who returned, wouldn’t you expect us to keep your human body on ice?”
“Have any returned?” Norse asked.
“Not so far,” I said.
“But there are hundreds,” she replied.
“Six hundred thirty-three,” I told her. “We’ve been doing this a long time.”
“Over four hundred years,” Norse said. “What’s the difference between these Sentinels and Stavo Boreax?”
“The Haze stopped his heart. We believe preserving life in our human host is dependent on the maintenance of an invisible energy thread connecting the past and present. The Haze appear able to sever it. By comparison, overstaying the twenty-four-hour limit weakens the thread, thereby preventing our return.”
“If true, why haven’t their energies returned to their bodies? Surely they would have had time to regenerate enough power to do so?” Brown asked. Like all novices who came before her, an obvious, straightforward solution was impossible not to suggest.
Guardians of Time Page 24
