The first test display showed a square lead box placed in front of us. It weighed a ton.
I stood back as they stepped up. “Your task is to lift the box six feet off the floor telepathically. Hold it there for one minute, then lower it gently back to the floor. Do it one at a time. Norse, you first.”
There was a moment’s hesitation before she moved to a spot on her own. Staring at the box, she slowed her breathing while concentrating on the box. Behind her, the AI wearing the image of Jorge Howen, the first human explorer to step on Ganymede, rested a hand on her shoulder. The box quivered on the floor as her mind clasped its sides slowly, gradually elevating it off the floor. At about six feet, she held it, counted sixty seconds off in her head, then lowered it back.
The AI slid its hand from her shoulder. “Ten percent.”
Her surprise and disappointment were very visible. The test was meant to indicate whether the full transference of a Master Sentinel was available at any time to its user.
“Kay, you next,” I said, a little less disappointed by my own performance.
“Eleven percent,” his AI said after he finished the exercise.
Blundell and Brown both reached nine percent.
“What does this mean?” Kay asked.
“It means the filters are allowing minimal amounts through to protect you from an overload. We need time for the cells to become fully functional. That’ll only happen after your bodies experience enough training to attract the abilities from cells.”
“Do you have any idea how long it will take?”
“Absolutely not, but we’ll take small steps and watch where it takes us.”
“How good did your implant do?” Norse asked.
“Fifty percent,” I admitted, and they looked at me in awe. “I expected a lot better. Mine was from a Time Guardian who has been around since time travel began.”
“He’s an Andromedin,” Kay said. “No wonder you got so low; imagine how much experience he must have. They live up to five hundred years. Wow, you must be special.”
Initially, I wasn’t certain whether Kay was simply attempting to ingratiate himself with me, but by the way the others were staring, I knew they were all thinking the same thing. I guessed it meant they figured my leadership had value.
“Next test,” I said. “Norse, say something telepathically to me.”
Brodie, in the flesh, you look good in your red-armored uniform.
Are you attempting to embarrass me?
Is it working? she asked with a mischievous grin.
“Okay,” I said aloud. “You can send telepathic messages. It’s what’s in them that an issue. How did she score?”
Her AI said, “Ten percent.”
“Consistent,” I replied.
FOR THE NEXT TEN MONTHS, we trained for fourteen hours a day, six days a week. At the end of that time, my measurement had risen to ninety percent. Kay reached fifty, Norse, forty-eight, and the other two, forty-seven. The war with the Haze was not going well with increases in universe expansion that needed to be challenged by more Sentinels. I had been ordered to meet with Commander Curtis to discuss progress.
“At least they appear to be making progress,” he said as I sat facing him in his office, a desk between us.
The white, sterile environment made me wish for a painting or something from the past to use as a distraction while he considered options about our future.
“They’re still not ready to go to war,” I said. “You did promise me that you’d wait before putting them in harm’s way.” My concern, as he well knew, had to do with their energies being damaged while in the past. I’d been ordered not to say too much to my novices about the effects a damaged energy had when returned to its human host. That was not easy when they were incredibly eager to throw themselves into the conflict. Twenty thousand damaged personalities were currently held in a high-security orbital prison around Venus for good reason.
“That doesn’t alter the fact that we need more Sentinels,” he replied. “I think I have an idea of how we might be able to accomplish more training without putting your team in direct danger and also increase the number of Sentinels.”
I listened.
“I want you to recover our missing Sentinels, or at least, as many as you’re able by the time your team is fully effective.”
“It won’t be easy even with the AIs acting as detectors,” I said. “They’re roaming the globe without any sense of direction. Also, we have no idea whether enemy forces will be present.”
“At least you won’t be facing any direct confrontations. I think your people are ready for this. Also, the leadership is demanding we do more to stop universal expansion. Haze attacks are growing in intensity. Returning some Sentinels will help me keep my word to you and them. Otherwise, the leadership will order your unit to be used in war scenarios, and there’s not a thing I could do to prevent it.”
“Hobson’s choice.”
“What?” He frowned, confused.
“It’s an expression from the seventeenth century. It means take it or leave it. So, I guess I’ll take it.”
He grinned. “Historians, you’re all the same ... always an apt quip made by a dead person hundreds of years ago.”
“I want to explain to my unit what can happen if any of them are damaged.”
I think he knew that I would ask. It was in his eyes. “No.”
“They deserve to know,” I said.
“Their morale could sink. We can’t risk it. We don’t know what effect it might have on their progress to merge.”
“Surely I’m proof that it doesn’t do morale any harm?”
“You been a Sentinel for many years. Comparing them and you are chalk and cheese. That’s an old Earth expression too.”
“Fourteenth century,” I added.
He shrugged. “I know you think you’re not being honest with them, but in this instance, it really is for the greater good. You must see that.”
Not telling them that returning to the present damaged would likely turn them into monsters was lying. I was the one they most depended on. If they couldn’t trust me, they wouldn’t trust anyone.
Curtis continued, “I want you to start planning a strategy immediately. I need a plan to show the leadership. Use your people. They seem to have plenty of fresh ideas.”
I nodded, rose from the seat, and turned to leave.
“Brodie,” he said, calling my attention back, “they’re ready to do something worthwhile. Search and recovery to return 633 missing souls is it.”
I nodded and stepped out of his office, hoping that he was right.
Contributors
Bruce Markuson
BRUCE LIVES WITH HIS wife and two children in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. He has a novel and over a hundred short stories published.
Bruce is also working on a number of series. He enjoys writing and often finds himself with writer’s obsession. He says the best way to write is to have an ending then write to that ending.
Check out his blog at brucemarkuson.blogspot.com
Frank Pipp
FRANK CO-WROTE NUCLEAR Empire with Bruce.
Edwardo Pérez
WHEN NOT TEACHING ENGLISH or writing philosophical essays and blogs as a professor and critical theorist, Edwardo enjoys crafting speculative fiction and prose poetry. Believing not every story has been told and not every character has been created, Edwardo looks for the forgotten tale and the unexpected point of view.
E. W. Farnsworth
E. W. FARNSWORTH IS widely published online and in print. His science fiction stories often involve time travel.
For further information about the author and his work, please see https://ewfarnsworth.com/.
Lincoln Reed
LINCOLN HOLDS A B.A. in film studies from Taylor University and an MFA in creative writing from Miami University of Ohio. His short film script, “Drop Dead Gorgeous” received the Best Screenplay Award at the 2018 Envision Film Festival. His freelance wri
tings have been published in The Secret Place, The Marion Chronicle-Tribune, and in university publications.
As a novelist, he is represented by the Trident Media Group Literary Agency of New York.
Lyle Stiles
LYLE IS A RECOVERING researcher, nursing a growing love for poetry and sci-fi. As a black neuroscientist who grew up in Brooklyn, New York, Stiles brings his unique blend of personal experiences and scientific background into all of his fictional pieces. He works with an amazing team of writers, the Saturday Speculative Fiction group, who provide helpful notes for his developing urban sci-fi fantasy novel. He is also a NASA-awarded science communicator who makes science accessible online.
Follow him on Twitter @thewritestiles.
Megan Lam
MEGAN IS A CANADIAN medical student, with a passion for narrative medicine and creative writing. She is currently working on a novel, as well as a collection of stories for a family memoir. She is an avid music lover and travel blogger.
On her days off, you can find Megan struggling to learn the guitar, attempting to rock climb, and watching travel videos on YouTube.
Owen Morgan
OWEN WRITES SCIENCE fiction, fantasy, and alternate history, and lives in the fishing port of Steveston, British Columbia.
Bob Price
BOB WAS BORN IN WEST Africa when his father was employed by the British Colonial Service. His mother moved to England in 1958 with him and his sister.
In 1995 he wrote a crime fiction novel that was published both in the UK and the following year in Sweden. In 2019 he began writing fiction focusing on short stories ranging from contemporary detectives, fantasy, science fiction and westerns.
Taylor Roth
TAYLOR IS A YOUNG EMERGING writer from the Midwest trying to make a mark by publishing her writing.
Wendy Steele
WENDY STEELE LIVES on a hillside in Wales with her partner and cats. Following training in belly dance and writing, she has published novels and novellas in the Magical Realism and Witchlit genres, and teaches ATS® Belly Dance.
When not writing or dancing, you’ll find her renovating her Grade II listed farmhouse, reading, crafting and knitting, or immersing herself in the Welsh landscape.
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