by Gene P. Abel
“The same odd electrified bullets we found at the Los Alamos conference incident.”
General Karlson nodded. “Those Russians again. But how did they get in here?”
“The lab security footage may give us a clue. I have it ready to play.”
“I thought the security cams were only in the corridors,” Ben said.
“The ones you’ll find on record,” Agent Hessman admitted. “Because of what we do here, every bit of lab space is monitored by one or more security cameras about the size of your fingertip. Even the placement of the cameras is encrypted.”
“Sounds a bit paranoid,” Claire remarked.
“Just be glad that I am.”
“Play the footage up on the big screen, Hessman,” the general ordered.
To the general’s command, Agent Hessman reached to his terminal, hit a few keys, and then faced the large screen on the front wall along with everyone else.
The footage first showed the two techs suddenly dropping to the ground, their bodies then being dragged into the break room by unseen means. After a pause it showed Samantha walking in. They watched as she walked across the room, bent down to pick up the mug, and then started running after eyeing the break room. They watched as the mug bounced off the air, and saw Samantha leap over one of the workbenches, use her keyboard to deflect one of the strange electrified bullets, and finally rip something off to reveal the head of a man afloat in the air.
“He’s a ghost,” Claire gasped.
“More likely some manner of adaptive camouflage cloth,” Dr. Weiss remarked. “I’ve read of some experiments to develop this sort of technology, but nothing even close to this sort of sophistication.”
The scene then came to when Samantha collapsed, then the disembodied hand reaching out to place the disk on her unconscious form. That’s when Agent Hessman’s eyes narrowed suspiciously and when Dr. Weiss went from concerned uncle to investigative research scientist. A moment later Samantha’s body vanished in a prismatic twinkle, soon followed by three more such flashes.
“Stop the tape right there,” Dr. Weiss called out. “I need a terminal and a copy of the last few seconds of Samantha’s location signal to analyze.”
“A suspicion, Doctor?” the general asked.
“More than mere suspicion,” he replied. “I think everyone on the team knows what that disk and flash of lights are reminiscent of.”
Agent Hessman nodded, and said, “Agreed. General, I’d like to scan for any TDWs in the last twenty-four hours.”
“Do it,” the general ordered the nearest tech.
While Dr. Weiss sat down to work at one of the terminals, and Agent Hessman watched as the security footage was replaced by the readout from the TDW scanners, Captain Beck gently pulled Ben and Claire back a little from the center of activity.
“Let them do their work,” he quietly told them. “Sam is more worried than you are about his niece, but he’s focused now on locating her.”
“I know,” Ben replied, “but I feel so frustrated.”
“And unexpectedly vulnerable,” Claire added. “I thought this base was impregnable.”
Captain Beck left the question unanswered as they turned their attention to the results now displayed across the main screen.
“Nothing on the blip board,” a tech finally called out. “No TDWs going to or from the past.”
“I didn’t expect there would be,” Agent Hessman said thoughtfully. “Sam?”
“In just a second . . .”
Dr. Weiss’s fingers raced across his keyboard as he worked. On the screen before him was a waveform pattern displayed as a function of time codes, but under his swift work it zoomed into the last fractions of a second and expanded. Now the steady waveform was disrupted by a completely different pattern.
“We got a time traveler, all right,” he announced. “See that disruptive pattern in the last instant of the signal? That’s the locator signal being distorted by a time travel event. Look for a blip again, but this time from the future.”
“Uh, Doctor?” the same tech who had reported the lack of TDWs asked. “But . . . how?”
Dr. Weiss started typing again as he spoke. “A little something that Sam and I have been working on. I’m feeding you the new parameters now. You just have to make a few adjustments.”
While Dr. Weiss was sending the new information and the tech was making his adjustments, General Karlson stepped in next to Agent Hessman for a few quiet words.
“Russians from the future? Any idea why?”
“That attack at the Los Alamos conference must have been aimed for Samantha Weiss. She has something they need, though what I can’t yet imagine. We won’t know more until we’re able to tell just how far into the future they come from.”
“It would explain the odd tech they’ve displayed—electrified bullets, something that makes them invisible.”
“Explains a lot,” Agent Hessman agreed, “though not their motive.”
Their short conference was interrupted by the tech calling out, “General, activity on the blip board. We have a TDW, and it’s from the future, all right.”
“Display it,” the general snapped. “I want location and time.”
“Yes, sir.”
The large screen before them displayed first a black background, then a single large dot at one end accompanied by a time stamp. From there a line began drawing itself toward the other side of the screen, passing up briefly displayed date codes along the way. A short distance from the first dot, a second one appeared; from there the line started stretching all the way across the screen.
“From the looks of it,” Dr. Weiss announced as he struggled to get up from his seat, “their first portal opened up this morning, in the vicinity of Los Alamos.”
“Makes sense,” the general remarked. “And do we have to guess the time of the second?”
“Right when my niece’s locator chip went off-line. Right when that flash in the security footage showed her disappearing.”
“Then, if I may,” Ben said, stepping forward, “how far into the future are they from?”
“We’ll know in a few moments,” Dr. Weiss replied, “but judging on the tech they’ve displayed so far and the apparent ease with which they snuck in, I’d say nothing less than about fifty years, maybe more. It wouldn’t have been from too far into the future, though, or they probably would have just teleported her out or something.”
A glance up showed the line was already passing up the fifty-year mark.
“Well,” Dr. Weiss said, a little nervously, “any bets as to exactly how far?”
“Lou,” General Karlson said, “the second we have a date and location, I want you to assemble a team. No one kidnaps one of our people no matter how far in the future they come from.”
“Yes, General.”
“Sir,” Dr. Weiss broke in, “I’d like to—”
“Sam, until you no longer need that cane, you’re grounded,” the general told him. “You’ll be a liability in the field. I know she’s your niece and you love her, but that’s the way it has to be.”
“I understand, sir. But can I at least run tech support from this end? I’ve got to do something.”
“As long as it doesn’t involve much more than you sitting in place and some light walking,” the general agreed.
Dr. Weiss replied with a sigh of some little relief before the discussion was cut off by an announcement from the same tech as before.
“Sir, we have a date and location.”
All eyes looked up at the blip board to see that a third dot had resolved at the far end of the screen, one displaying some text, which the tech now read off from his terminal.
“We pin it at one hundred years in the future. Location: London, England.”
“England?” the general puzzled. “I would have
expected Russians to be from Russia. And what’s England doing with a time machine?”
“It could be like the nuclear bomb, sir,” Ben put in. “It started out with just us and the Russians; then all the major powers started getting it.”
“Quick aside,” Claire said, “but what’s a ‘nuclear bomb’?”
“Oh yeah,” Ben replied in a subdued tone, “I’ve been avoiding telling you about those. The first one erased an entire city.”
“An entire city?” Claire gasped. “One bomb? What sort of warmongering madness are you people into, anyway?”
“Long story for another time, Miss Hill,” Agent Hessman interjected. “Right now, we have Samantha to rescue.”
“Right,” she agreed. “Priorities.”
“Now, we’ll need someone to replace Agent Harris and Lieutenant Phelps,” Agent Hessman began as he turned away, thinking. “There’s a couple of people that I think might do the job . . .”
While Agent Hessman thought over the composition of the team, Claire pulled Ben away for a quiet word between them alone.
“He really likes her a lot.”
“What, Sam’s niece? She seems very personable, but—”
“No, I mean he likes her.” She grinned.
“What? Oh. But what makes you think that?”
“Simple,” she said with a shrug. “He keeps referring to her as ‘Samantha’ instead of ‘Miss Weiss.’ He’s known me longer and I’m still ‘Miss Hill’ most of the time. Yep, he’s got it bad.”
Ben puzzled over this for a few moments, and as he watched Agent Hessman work quickly at getting his team together, he could not help but wonder if that was from his usual efficiency or some new urgency that arose from a completely different reason.
Temporal Chamber Control Room
Temporal Chamber
8
Mission to the Future
By nine o’clock Agent Hessman had his team assembled in the temporal projection chamber, unofficially known as “The Bubble.” The pods were still ringed around the center beneath the two large curved propeller arms attached to the polished metal ball. The wires overhead had been cleaned up for a more professional look, and the control booth looking down upon it all had been greatly expanded, including the moving of the bulk of the computers from the Bubble’s floor into the control booth. The general was already up in the booth, along with Dr. Weiss, while Agent Hessman was on the floor with the rest of the team.
He started his briefing while the techs went about a last check of the pods and the other equipment in the chamber.
“The team will be comprised of myself, Captain Beck, and Professor Stein,” he began, “along with two new faces. First we have Master Chief Petty Officer Marvin Duke.”
The man indicated was a well-built, clean-cut twenty-eight-year-old, around six feet two, who looked as if he could bench-press a small jeep. He replied with a quick nod and stated, “Just call me Chief Duke.”
The next one that Agent Hessman indicated looked more like a picture of a man than the real thing: dark hair trimmed short, nondescript business suit, and dark glasses, with a face that displayed about as much emotional inflection as the suit he wore.
“And this is Agent Stevens. He’s filling in for Agent Harris while she recovers.”
“Nice to meet you,” Ben stated, putting out a hand. “And what should we call you?”
The man’s reply was as terse as his appearance: “Agent Stevens.” He made no move to return Ben’s offered hand or even acknowledge that it existed.
“I see,” Ben said hesitantly.
“Agent Stevens is more of your classic spook,” Captain Beck told him. “Won’t give his first name unless ordered by the president himself, and I have my doubts that’s even his real last name.”
“I am here to do a job,” Agent Stevens stated. “I will do my best to perform as efficiently as Agent Harris would have.”
“Nothing personal,” Claire spoke up, “but you’ll never be as good as Sue.”
“Nevertheless,” Agent Hessman remarked, “he is the best available replacement that I could get on such short notice. Which brings up a pertinent question: Miss Hill, what are you doing here?”
“I’m going on the mission with the rest of you,” she announced.
Agent Stevens was dressed in his suit, Chief Duke in army fatigues, Captain Beck in a gray business suit, Ben in the relaxed trousers and long-sleeved corduroy shirt that a university professor might wear, which is to say his own clothes, and Agent Hessman in a generic collared shirt and jacket and jeans. Claire, however, was attired far sprightlier, in an ankle-length pink-and-white dress, with a ribbon-scarf around her neck and a wide-brimmed, floppy white sunhat.
“Dressed like that?” Captain Beck remarked. “That doesn’t exactly blend in, you know.”
“Oh? And how would you know?” Claire countered. “How many people in this room have been to the future?” She immediately raised her own hand, then glanced around at everyone else keeping theirs down.
“Miss Hill, you are still in the present,” Agent Hessman reminded her.
“Your present, but my future. None of us have any idea what the dress and customs might be a hundred years from now. For all we know, what I’m wearing right now could be the in style, while that business suit of Agent Stevens’s is considered gauche. We’re all in the same bucket on this one, only I have an advantage. I’ve actually had experience in adapting to new futuristic circumstances, new ways and customs. Anybody here also have that same experience?”
“She does have a point, Agent Hessman,” Agent Stevens emotionlessly replied.
“Thank you, Fred,” Claire said.
“The name’s Agent Stevens, ma’am.”
“Well, I’d like to call you by your first name, but since you won’t give it, I’ve decided on Fred. Unless you would like to give us your first name to use?”
Agent Stevens said nothing.
“Fred it is.” Claire triumphantly grinned.
Ben found himself suppressing a snicker, while Claire continued arguing her case.
“Besides, as a reporter, how can I pass up this opportunity? I’m also better trained at observing things and recording them for you.”
“Another point in her favor, Lou,” Captain Beck stated.
“Very well, Miss Hill,” Agent Hessman said after a moment, “you can be a part of the team. Now, you’ve each been armed with a stun gun, some chloroform, and some English and American money in the off chance that they might still be using cash in the future. Also, your recall beacons, of course. Miss Hill, I shall have to requisition some equipment for you.”
“Already done,” she said with a bright grin. “I spoke with General Karlson earlier and got his approval using the same argument.”
“Then why didn’t you simply—”
“The general said I had to get your approval also, but since I knew that I probably would, I got equipped at the same time as Ben. Not too sure about those stun-gun things, though, but I’m ready to go.”
“Well, then,” Captain Beck remarked, “may I say that you do a good job of hiding everything? Because I can’t see any sign of a single pistol bulge on you.”
She shrugged. “A lady knows how to keep things under her hat. Now, are we ready?”
Agent Hessman let out a sigh, then looked toward Ben and said, “I do not envy you your coming married life with this woman, Professor.”
“Yeah,” Ben agreed, “let’s hope I can keep up.”
Captain Beck gave a light chuckle; Chief Duke, a level look; and from Agent Stevens, no sign that he felt anything.
“To continue,” Agent Hessman said, picking up where they had left off, “the mission parameters are as follows: First and top priority is to bring back Samantha Weiss, alive and intact. Second is to find out why anyone from the
future would want to kidnap her in the first place. Was it really the Russians? And if so, why are they apparently using a time machine in England? Then lastly, we are to observe and record this future, and if opportunity presents itself, bring back some samples.”
“I’m not sure if that will be either possible or wise,” Ben cautioned. “We may be disrupting our own timeline and what is to happen, or we may change our world, by just bringing something back with us.”
“These people already violated that rule by kidnapping Samantha,” Agent Hessman replied. “If they’re trying to affect something in their past, then we can take advantage of a visit to our future. And if it turns out that, by some cosmic law, it’s not possible to bring any technology back, then we’ll find that out along the way. Until then, we have a duty before us. Now, are there any other questions?”
There were none save one from Agent Stevens.
“Just one: What are the orders regarding killing? They may be restricted from killing anyone from their own past, but we have no such limitation.”
“That’s a horrible question!” Claire exclaimed. “Why would we ever need to kill anyone?”
“It’s a very apt question, Miss Hill, and I’m glad that Agent Stevens brought it up. We are here on a rescue mission, to find and retrieve one of our own through any means available. Our mission is not to kill. But if the need is absolutely necessary and there is no other way . . . then consider it a last resort.”
“Understood,” Agent Stevens stated.
“Now, one more thing.”
From a pocket Agent Hessman drew out what looked like some sort of palm-sized computer with a small screen built in, and held it so they could all see it.
“This has been programmed to respond to Samantha’s locator chip. However, it may not have the same range as it does here in our time.”
“I thought those things could be detected anyplace on the planet,” Ben said.
“With the help of some satellites,” Agent Hessman responded. “Satellites which may or may not still exist or be in fully working order a century from now. Worst case, expect a range of between a quarter and a half mile.”
