“What surprised you about the fire?” Fil asked.
Adam looked uncomfortable. “We didn’t realize how many people the Assassin and Hunters would actually reach because… well, Will’s memories only covered what he was able to see. We knew about the guards because Will saw the police officer’s reaction after seeing their bodies.” He sighed. “That was the tragedy we wanted to prevent with our future hindsight. We wanted to give those human guards a chance to live. And we gave both of them that option.” He paused. “What didn’t we know? We didn’t know that they learned of Will and Hope’s marriage through a conversation Porthos had with Gena.”
Angel blinked. “Gena? Our Gena?”
Adam nodded. “The same. We found that out two days before everything happened, and realized that she’d be able to identify Porthos. The police would bring her in to provide testimony. The Hunters would figure that out. So… we made a clone of her. Did the same for the MacLeans. All of the clones died, Gena’s at Porthos’ hands, and the MacLeans from, ah, natural causes.”
Angel stared at him. “I never knew that before now.”
Adam nodded. “Even now, we’re cautious about revealing Will’s origins. Many people know, of course; there’s nothing we can do about that. Noting that Gena was nearly killed because she’d inadvertently enabled the attack on Hope and Fil would raise awkward questions.” He shrugged. “We… choose not to mention it.”
Angel considered that. The news of Will Stark’s death and the tremendous fire at his home were easily explained in conversations the members of the Alliance had amongst themselves. Will clearly survived the attack in 1995 as most suspected. He’d moved into a public human role to help end the global economic depression, naturally marrying Hope. They’d figured out the cure to ambrosia by then, and the fact that the couple had conceived a son wasn’t a shock. The surprise attack by the Hunters and Assassin had been repelled enough to allow all parties to survive.
If word leaked out that Gena had been cloned because they’d known she’d be killed after the attack, questions would follow. How had they known about the attack ahead of time? And how did they know that Gena, not yet even an Alliance recruiting target, would perish at the hands of the Tracker? Why did they feel the need to make a clone of her?
Fil frowned. “I remember now how all of you were thinking about the fact that Gena wasn’t there the night Mom and I left the bunker. I was six, so it didn’t mean anything to me. Lots of people weren’t there, right? Now, though… yeah, it would have seemed strange if I’d thought about it.” He nodded. “Point taken, though. I see what you mean about being prepared, because anything can still happen. We should test the time machine as often as possible.”
“I agree, and I think we should do more than test often,” the Mechanic said. “I think we need to build redundancy into the process.”
“How so?” Adam asked. “Pack spare batteries?”
The Mechanic nodded. “At a minimum. I think we need to build a spare time machine. That machine will be there in the event the original time machine suffers a severe malfunction. I’ll remain in 2219, and if the time machine fails to arrive at the appointed time, I’ll send the spare back to a defined location that you can reach.”
Angel felt a chill. “What if the second craft didn’t make it either?”
The Mechanic set his jaw. “I’ll keep making them until I send one back that gets you home safely. We aren’t stranding any of you in the past with no way to get back here.”
Adam nodded. “As unlikely as these scenarios might seem, we need to think about this and make plans to deal with these possible outcomes. What if we need to take Will into hiding? What if the Hunters find us during that time?” He shrugged.
“From your perspective, it won’t look like that,” the Mechanic said. “If the first craft fails to work, you go to the designated location and the new machine will be there. I’ll build and send back time machines until one returns with all of you.”
“It will work the first time,” Angel said. “We’re going to do a test across a long period of time and know the machine that we’ve built works.”
“How will we do that?” Eva asked.
Angel looked at her watch. “I have 5:00 exactly. We need to remember this time and this spot.”
“Why?” Fil asked.
Angel pointed to an empty corner of the room. “Look there.”
They turned and watched as a second time machine materialized before their eyes.
“We now know it worked in the future.” Angel said. “That machine was sent back to this time from the future, a test to tell us that we made it. We just need to document the exact coordinates and time and send a test machine back when we’re ready. And we can learn from the design of that machine, use it to verify that—”
The new time machine disintegrated. Angel felt the shock ripple through her.
Eva stared at the empty space. “What happened?”
Adam shook his head. “Another example of the unexpected. Why would we send a machine back in time that dissolved into nothing?”
Angel sucked in her breath. “It’s a reminder. Dad’s time machine disappeared when he got to England.” She looked at each of them. “We don’t just have to build a time machine. We have to build one that can dissolve.”
The Mechanic shook his head. “I don’t know how to do that.”
Angel smiled. “I don’t either. But I know now that we’ll figure it out.”
Fil set his jaw. “Then let’s get busy doing just that. We have lives to save.”
XVII
Walkthrough
2218 A.D.
Charlie watched the Mechanic checking each connection and component a third time. “Is that the last thing we have to do?”
The Mechanic straightened up. “That’s the last thing we have to do for this piece. I’m sure there are other tasks to complete over the next year.”
The primary time machine stood off to the side. They’d made thousands of modifications to the internal systems and exterior materials, testing changes on replicas to ensure that the machine still worked, that the cabin remained sealed, that the craft moved through time and space as programmed. They’d added a scutarium encased glove in the dash of the main machine; Adam would spend time recharging the batteries in 2030 while Angel and Fil completed their tasks.
This test machine was different. It was comprised entirely of nanos, designed to dissolve into microscopic pieces one minute after the successful completion of the trip.
Charlie watched as the Mechanic stepped back. “This craft will dissolve one minute after it arrives in the past. We’re programming Will’s time machine to dissolve three minutes after he opens then cabin, correct?”
The Mechanic nodded. “We don’t know how long Will remained in the cabin when he arrived in the distant past. That seems the best approach.”
Angel, Fil, and Adam entered the building. “I take it everything’s ready to go, then?” Angel asked.
The Mechanic nodded. “Angel, I think you should have the honor of starting this one, after all, you’re the one who realized the necessity of sending a temporary craft decades back in time for testing purposes.”
“I agree,” Fil said.
The Mechanic handed the remote to Angel. “When you’re ready.”
Angel nodded, counted down from three, and pressed the button.
The lid appeared over the cabin compartment. They listened to the now familiar sound of the time circuits warming up and drawing the necessary energy in from the battery. The hum grew louder, sounding like an old-fashioned propeller airplane hurtling down a runway for takeoff.
After ten seconds, the time machine vanished.
“How will we know if it worked?” Fil asked.
“We already do,” Charlie replied. “Remember? We were there in the past when that machine craft appeared.” He smiled at Angel. “Somebody realized this needed to be done.”
Angel blushed a bit. “Everyone el
se would have realized it eventually.”
Charlie took her hand. “But only you did.”
Fil coughed loudly. “The sentimentality is touching, but we still have quite a bit of work to do here today. Shall we get started?”
Angel glared at Fil, and Charlie rolled his eyes. They left the Mechanic’s quarters and walked outside into the camp.
They’d set up the site two months earlier, a year before Will’s scheduled arrival. The message in Will’s memories was clear: he believed that the nomad-like existence was their permanent reality, that their numbers after years of Hunts had waned so low that those in the camp might represent the entire global Alliance population. In setting up the camp a year in advance, in limiting their contact to other Alliance to an absolute minimum, they hoped to believe that reality themselves and act accordingly when their guest arrived from two centuries in their past.
The clear blue skies and fresh air aided conversation and strategy. The time machine was stored inside the Mechanic’s quarters; they didn’t want to take the chance at this point that inclement weather would damage a machine decades in the making. Charlie had noted that everybody in the camp—including him—had access to the machine, and asked what would happen if anyone other than Adam, Fil, or Angel activated the time machine.
“We need a lock on the time machine and a key that only the three of us can activate,” Adam said.
“Nobody would actually activate the machine, would they?” Fil was skeptical. “Everyone here knows the criticality of this machine and the upcoming trip. Why would they jeopardize everything?”
“I don’t know,” Charlie said. “But everyone will want to look at it. And that means someone could take a quick peek inside, and…” He shrugged. “I know it’s stupid, but we’ve been thinking about contingencies for so long I see them everywhere.”
Angel snapped her fingers as understanding dawned. “You’re right, Charlie. Nobody would do it on purpose. I’m not sure anybody here would activate it, even get close enough to trigger the machine by accident. But telling the time machine it can only activate if one of us push the button? That seems like a good idea.”
The Mechanic stroked his chin. “I suppose we can use the same technology used by the nanos to identify those who can operate the machine.”
Angel shook her head. “No. Well, we could. But I think this is the reasoning behind one of the curious items from Dad’s memory.”
The Mechanic stopped moving. “Which memory?”
“The tattoos on our palms. The Alliance symbol in gold on our palms.”
“What does a tattoo… oh, I get it,” Fil said, nodding. “The tattoos for us are… well, they’re keys to activate the craft. Nobody else gets a tattoo.”
“I don’t like that,” Adam said. Will is going to notice if only three of us bear a mark that’s supposedly something common to our entire membership.”
“Your tattoos will be created from specialized ink,” the Mechanic said. “The rest of us will get identical tattoos that are purely cosmetic.”
“Now that I like,” Adam replied, smoothing a wrinkle in his pale green bodysuit. Nano-based clothing sensitive to Energy levels had become commonplace with the advent of problem-solving nanos. Angel’s clothing was a deep green, Fil’s black, and the Mechanic’s orange.
Fil looked up at the sky. “Anybody think we’ll do one of the drills today?”
Angel scowled. “I really hope not.”
They’d prepared for the Aliomenti invasion of 2219 by practicing evacuating the current camp and traveling to the next. The earliest attempts were farces that invoked laughter. They’d gotten proficient over time, then added a siren to camp that sounded at random intervals. Everyone thought this a great idea until the first time the siren sounded at three in the morning.
“No chance any of the Hunters is out of bed at three in the morning,” Charlie had grumbled.
At least during that test run she and Charlie had shared a home, Angel thought. Will’s memories had her bunking with Fil, and no indication of her involvement with anyone in the camp. They’d seen images of Charlie and the others in the camp, though, and knew who was to be present. Just not present with her.
Fil found the living arrangements amusing.
They reached another nano-based structure—in this case a meeting room—and melted through the walls. Angel remembered the first time she’d used one of these buildings. She’d spent nearly two centuries entering buildings via using doors or teleportation. This approach effectively merged the two. She understood why her father would find the practice so disconcerting after his arrival from door-centric 2030.
The meeting room was a far cry from the room Will Stark would call home the following year. They’d set the nanos to change their color from the clear white familiar to Will, to a textured image. Where Will’s room housed nothing but a bed, this room featured tables, chairs, charts, video discs, paper flow charts hung on the walls. They’d reviewed each item a dozen times, ensuring they knew exactly how to act and the messages they must convey. They knew they didn’t need to say anything with the exact wording; Will would see in them actors reciting a script. They needed to be those people, understanding the messages more than precise verbiage.
“Let’s talk about the first steps to take after the return,” the Mechanic said as they sat in the chairs scattered around the room. As one not traveling through time, the Mechanic was an obvious choice to keep them on task and focused. He’d also reviewed more video than anyone else.
“Right,” Angel replied. “After we successfully retrieve Dad… Will…” She grimaced in frustration. “I can see why I’m supposed to call him Mr. Stark. I can’t get this right. Okay. I’ll practice that.” She cleared her throat. “After we successfully retrieve Mr. Stark—” Fil clapped politely, drawing a glare from his sister “—he’ll be in a delicate physical condition. We’ll give him the sleeping mix in the time machine.” She nodded at a bottle of liquid on the table, labeled “Sleep.” “That will go in my bag for the trip. That gets us about twenty-four hours to get things started upon our return to our present.”
Adam nodded. “We’ll use that opportunity to handle a few key tasks. I think we can preemptively inject the healing nanos. His injuries look quite severe in the video and we don’t want to risk permanent damage. I’d rather he healed too quickly than too slowly.” He sighed. “We’ve made a point of saying that we want him to feel the injuries when he wakes up the first time. Maybe we have to inject something that increases the amount of pain felt even as his body heals.”
“Adam, you’ve mentioned other work we’ll need to do in that first twenty-four hours while the patient sleeps and recovers. Can you elaborate?” The Mechanic lounged in a comfortable chair, hands clasped behind his head, with his eyes closed. Angel knew that posture. With his eyes closed, the Mechanic was focusing all mental energy on listening, tuning out visual distractions.
Adam nodded once more. “I talked to Dad and to Eva about their first encounters with Will in the distant past, asked them what they remember. Dad thought Will recognized him, a reaction he forgot until Will clued him in on his future birth. But Eva? She said Will clearly had no idea who she was. How is that possible? Eva in Pleasanton looked like Eva in the North Village, just with more wrinkles. How does Will not recognize her when they meet in the past?”
Angel felt a chill as the implication of his words hit her. “He didn’t recognize anyone here now, either. Remember? Nothing in his memory suggested he recognized Eva in the twenty-third century any more than he did in the eleventh or twenty-first. Which can only mean…”
“Either Dad’s memory is horrible or we block his memory of people he’s met in different times.” Fil’s face was stoic. He’d realized what they needed to do as well.
“It will be a tricky process,” Adam said. “While Will sleeps, we’ll need to make him forget anyone he knew in 2030, so that we seem like new, fresh faces here in his future. But that’s the easy p
art.”
The Mechanic’s face was stony. “You’ll need to do the same thing just before he departs for the distant past as well. Make him forget Eva. Make him forget that his old security chief’s surname, Maynard, is the name of Arthur Lowell’s muscle in the North Village.”
Adam sighed. “I hate this. I truly do. We did the same thing for Hope in 2030, but she consented to the process. With Will, we won’t have that opportunity. We have to figure out a different approach, because if any of us starts trying to alter his memories after he’s been in the future for two months…”
“He’d know.” The Mechanic stroked his chin. “I agree that this is distasteful. But I also agree that it is a necessary action on our part. As to the problem of recognition of our efforts by a trained-up Will, I believe we can overcome that by setting mental triggers to block his memories just before he leaves this time.”
Fil looked intrigued. “How would that work?”
“We can only safely work on Will’s memories at the time of his arrival in his future. After that, he’ll be too Energy aware and we run the risk of being caught. Therefore, we have to build in the blocks in that first twenty-four hour window, and tell his mind to forget only when a future event happens.” He chewed his bottom lip for a moment. “Those triggers must fire as near to the moment he leaves as possible. We need to find something unique in those final minutes, something we wouldn’t possibly say or do until those final minutes.”
“That makes sense,” Angel said. Her tone was slow, doubtful. “It can’t be a single word, though. I doubt there’s a word spoken when that final departure sequence unfolds that isn’t spoken many times before that.”
“I agree; it can’t be a single word.” The Mechanic stood and began pacing the room. “I wonder if we can use nanos to aid in this process?”
“But nanos can’t alter the mind… can they?” Adam looked concerned.
Aliomenti Saga 6: Stark Cataclysm Page 22
