by Gene P. Abel
She carefully tensed each of her arm and leg muscles to make sure all was in readiness, felt her pulse quicken, then snapped open her eyes while rolling over to one side, off the slab, and onto her feet.
The room was white, lit overhead by bright recessed lighting. Behind her the bulk of the wall was one large mirror, which she guessed to be two-way, up until a door to her left, at the far end. Mounted on the ceiling was something like a lighting fixture except in place of light bulbs from it projected a number of medical-looking mechanical arms, currently folded back into place around the core. To either side of the room stood more medical-looking equipment on wheeled carts; biometric monitors and such, one of which looked like a heart-rate monitor, which suddenly spiked at her motion. Then ahead of her were the four men, gathered into a small huddle between her and what looked like a sliding door with a keypad lock.
The instant she saw the heart-rate monitor jump she knew what that pinched feeling at her neck must be and quickly reached back and pulled off whatever was there. Sure enough, it was some sort of computer chip with needle legs that had been stuck into her flesh. The moment it was removed, the heart-rate monitor went dead.
The men turned at her movement, one of them reaching to his waist for something holstered there as she threw the chip at them and rushed to the nearest equipment cart. On it were devices with small screens, oscilloscopes, computerized drip-feeds, and other functions she cared not about, just that they were heavy. One cart, then two she sent rolling at them, then ran around the back side of the table she had been lying on and sent the first cart there crashing toward them.
One of the men was the same man she had seen as a floating head in her new lab; two others she recognized from the brief encounter at the Los Alamos conference. The fourth man, though, was new. One of them ran around to her right, another to the left, while a third remained by the exit along with the new man. All were dark-haired, heavyset Russians, save the new one, who was a little skinnier than the others.
The carts smashed into them and were quickly swatted away, but it bought her a precious second or two to think. There was a door behind her, to one side of the mirror wall, but it was probably locked. Still, it was a better chance than trying to bulldoze her way through these four men.
She leaped over to the door by the mirror wall, but when she looked for a doorknob she found nothing but a flat surface. That and a pad in the wall just to one side.
“Palm scanner,” she swore.
Spinning quickly around, she brought her foot up in a sweeping kick before bothering to see if there was anyone there to hit. The man who had charged up on this side of the room had indeed made it past the hurtling cart and gotten close enough for her foot to smack against the side of his chin. He let out a growl of pain, then lunged.
Samantha leaped feetfirst, but not at her attacker. Instead, she landed on her back, sliding across the floor past him, beneath reach of his grasping arms. Once past she rolled quickly up to her feet, grabbed one of the heavier-looking equipment carts, and, using it like a battering ram, charged straight at the pair by the exit, pushing the wheeled cart before her. She thought to slam it into them and then, while they were picking themselves up, worry about the keypad.
What happened was the larger of the two braced himself and caught the other side of the cart with both hands and snarled at her as his far-larger muscles easily absorbed the impact. A moment later he shoved the cart aside, leaving nothing between them.
She had to think fast. She was still dressed as she had been when they took her, which meant that she still had whatever was in her pockets at the time. As she stepped back, she reached in and pulled out the first thing her fingers grabbed on to. It was a pen.
“Stay back,” she warned. “I got a ball-point.”
She held it up like a knife in her right hand, ready to stab down at the first one to come at her. Instead, at a sharp command from the thinner man they all paused. She was surrounded, her back to the wall, and with nothing effective on hand to defend herself with.
“Anyone comes near me and I’ll make sure you feel a lot of pain.”
In response, the three men from before reached to their belts and pulled out their pistols and aimed them right at her. Two of them were within reach, but the third one across the room could get her before she could get near him. The only one without a weapon was the fourth, skinnier man, who now spoke in lightly accented English.
“Miss Weiss, you must realize that there is no way out for you. Now, if you’ll please stop struggling; this equipment you’ve been tossing around can be quite expensive.”
“What do you want with me?”
She still had her pen out like a knife, body slightly crouched and awaiting any opportunity that might present itself.
“You’re prepping me for an operation of some sort. Why?”
“Simple enough,” the man calmly replied. “To save our present we need you to change our past, Miss Weiss.”
“Well, if it’s cooperation you want, you’re not getting it. And I doubt I’ll be hanging around here long enough for you to force me.”
“Ah yes, you mean the team sent forward to rescue you.” The man smiled. “They should be right on schedule despite the best efforts of the temporal police. We should be done by the time they arrive to save you, Miss Weiss. Now, if you’ll kindly put down that pen, we can get started.”
Samantha slowly shook her head, backing up a step until her heel hit the wall. “You’re going to have to—”
Three shots rang out, three times an electrical snap whizzed through the air, and three times an electrified bullet hit her body, sticking like a dart to deliver its charge. Her body convulsed, the pen flying out of her hand, and then her joints froze, spilling her to the ground to convulse some more before she finally went limp.
“Now, as I was saying, get her properly sedated and prepped,” the thinner man calmly ordered. “We haven’t much time.”
17
Space Vegas
The pod sped them through the tube, not as fast as the bullet train but fast enough that sitting strapped in was the only option. It was a second or two before the walls cleared into transparency, allowing them a view of the spaceport across which they sped.
Theirs was one of several such tubes, all radiating from the central hub, like spokes on a wheel, to the far-flung points of the port. The port looked like a large concrete desert stretching out to some distant green hills. The endpoint of each tube was always the same: what looked like a sleek delta-winged aircraft hooked up to its terminal tube by a covered platform and retractable corrugated umbilical. Theirs was no exception, for ahead of them they could see the craft that they now approached.
“I thought we were headed up into space,” Claire remarked. “Didn’t you say that involves a tall, pointy rocket?”
“Space travel has apparently evolved,” Ben replied. “Rocketry isn’t my field, and unfortunately, Sam’s not with us.”
“Fortunately, high-security military projects are my field,” Captain Beck put in, “and that thing looks like an advanced development of some concepts we got rolling around. The space shuttle was only meant as a stepping-stone. The endgame is to have a system that has no need of a rocket to get up into space, but is a completely reusable system from start to finish. This looks like we finally achieved that goal. Probably takes off much like that bullet train we felt, then angles straight up.”
“Whatever it involves, just act like all this is perfectly normal to us so we don’t stand out,” Agent Hessman cautioned.
“Nonsense,” Claire decided. “That’s a sure-fire way to stand out.”
“Miss Hill, our goal is not to be noticed.”
“First off, in a few months it’s going to be ‘Miss Stein,’ so get used to it,” she corrected, “and second, the name is Claire.”
“Claire,” Agent Hessman relucta
ntly addressed her.
“It’s like what I’m wearing versus you guys. Or going to the boardwalk. You remember when we were at Steeplechase Park? Did you ever see anyone there looking bored, like they’d seen it all? No, they were all excited. We’re going on vacation to Space Vegas on our first trip into orbit. Who can act bored for something like that in any century?”
That said, she relaxed back into her seat, satisfied that her argument had been won. From the looks on the men’s faces, it had been. As their pod began to slow with its approach to their terminal, Captain Beck leaned over for a quiet word with Claire.
“You’ll have to excuse Lou. He doesn’t do ‘excited vacationer’ very well.”
Their pod came to a halt at a terminal similar to where they had boarded. As they exited their pod, a stewardess was there to help them out and welcome them with a smile.
“Welcome to Virgin Spaceways’ flight to Space Vegas. You must be the party from the university.”
“Yes,” Agent Hessman began, all seriousness. “We’re here to check out—”
“Space Vegas!” Claire said with a hop to her step. “Oh, I’m so excited!”
“First-time visitors, I see,” the stewardess said as she led the way. “They’re always so enthusiastic.”
Claire flashed Lou a quick grin. Then Ben got willingly into the act and wrapped an arm around her waist. “We’re actually here to celebrate,” he said. “I just asked her the question,” whereupon Claire held up her left hand and flashed her new ring with a bright smile.
The stewardess replied with a nod and motioned them onward. “Congratulations, Miss. Now, if you’ll just step across the gantry, you can be in Space Vegas in no time and begin your new lives together.”
The gantry was a simple metal walkway leading from the terminal chamber, guardrails on the sides, but it was surrounded by a corrugated rubberlike tube that reached out the entire length, sealed at the far end in a circular housing around an open metal aircraft door and another smiling stewardess. Agent Hessman was ready to lead the way, but Claire nearly dragged Ben on ahead, giggling as she went. She was the first to produce her travel card for the spaceline stewardess waiting at the other end, the terminal number floating in bright numbers in the air above her.
The lady produced a hand scanner and flashed it across the card, then reached for Ben next in line as she greeted them. “Welcome aboard. My name is Tiffany and I’ll be your stewardess for the duration of this trip. If there is anything you need, just say so.”
She scanned Agent Hessman’s card next, then lastly Captain Beck’s, and he did have a question.
“Uh, I have a question, Miss. If you’re prone to seasickness, will this . . .”
“If you feel nauseated while we’re in flight, just hit your call button and I’ll be right there with a little something to fix you up.”
The interior reminded Agent Hessman of a jumbo jet, the main differences being that the seats were bulkier and a lot more padded and arranged on a gimbal system for reclining.
“Nice crash couches,” Ben remarked.
There were windows along the sides of the craft, just as in a normal airplane, and all the usual accoutrements one would expect of a plane. The floor was even carpeted.
“It looks like you’re going to be the only passengers today,” Tiffany said as she thumbed a red button to the side of the door, “so feel free to sit anywhere you like.”
“Window seat,” Claire immediately called out. “I want to see the takeoff.”
The door slid automatically into place, after which Tiffany rotated a large lever beside the red button down into place to lock it. Claire got her window seat, with Ben sitting beside her, while Captain Beck and Agent Hessman took the seats immediately behind them, though the captain did not take the window seat.
Shortly after the stewardess secured herself in a seat at the rear, a male voice called out through the speakers: “This is your captain speaking. We’re going to be taxiing out to our runway for takeoff; then it’s off for Space Vegas. We should be achieving orbit in approximately three minutes and then arrive at the station thirty minutes after that. Enjoy the trip.”
They felt the motion of the craft as it taxied into position. They could see the runway ahead of them through the window and felt the craft turning to align itself, then a brief pause.
They were slammed back into their seats, the view outside becoming a blur. The cabin was insulated, but even so, they could still hear the faint echo of a sharp whine. Then came a slight buoyant feeling as the craft began to lift off the ground. For several seconds they sped on and up. When they dared glance out the window the ground had grown quite distant and the entirety of the port could be seen as a large relief-map of itself.
“Hold on tight, folks. That was just the first step. We’re going into orbit now, but don’t worry; those acceleration couches will automatically adjust. You’ll only feel a little more pull.”
“What does he mean by ‘a little more’?” Captain Beck asked.
The craft suddenly curved into a sharp arch, aiming itself straight up with a rumble of power they could feel through the floor. Their seats automatically tilted to partially compensate for the angle, and they found the padding more than sufficient to absorb the impact of their acceleration. Even so, movement of anything but one’s eyeballs was not an option.
Through the corner of her eye, Claire could see the ground speed away until the entire outline of England came into view, storms and all. She tried to giggle in awe and delight, but movement was still restricted. Agent Hessman, though, was noticing other things. Things like the full reach of the London dyke system and what a mammoth project it was, and the oversized reach of a couple of hurricanes covering the Atlantic nearly from shore to shore.
By the time three minutes had passed the acceleration suddenly lifted and they found themselves afloat above the earth.
“You can now undo your restraints, folks, and walk around if you wish, but I advise you to keep to your seats. The trip will only take us half an hour, so just enjoy the flight. Tiffany will now come around to see if any of you want anything to drink.”
Claire was all delight, snapping off the restraint button so she could get a better view of what lay outside. She was still staring openmouthed when she noticed something: her large hat was floating up off her head. “My hat!”
“It’s the gravity,” Ben told her. “We don’t have any.”
“Well, it is a very strange feeling, let me tell you. You don’t find this unusual?”
“Oh, very. We’re both in the same boat on this one. Er, spaceship rather.”
“About time. Oh, there’s Europe. But look at all those clouds.”
While Claire was ogling the view, with Ben looking over her shoulder for his own stunning glimpse, Agent Hessman was giving it a more methodical study. Captain Beck opted for avoiding the view when the stewardess, Tiffany, came walking by.
They could feel the weightlessness, and Claire finally had to take off her hat and hold it against her chest, but Tiffany seemed to have little trouble with it. She was walking slowly, each step deliberate as she approached. “Would any of you like something to drink?” she asked.
Agent Hessman glanced over to see that her shoes had something resembling Velcro on the bottom soles to grip her into place, while Captain Beck had a more pleading expression.
“Scotch?”
“You’re just nervous,” she stated. “Here, this should help.”
She handed him a small pill, which he immediately swallowed and then did his best to relax back into the chair.
For Claire and Ben, the next thirty minutes were an unending parade of orbital sights, their windows automatically opaquing against the power of the sun when required. For Agent Hessman it was more of a studied examination of the world as a whole, though he was not above admitting to himself to a
certain amount of awe at the sights.
The first thing Agent Hessman noticed, however, was the vibrations coming from one of his pockets. He reached in and discreetly pulled out his time beacon and checked the readout on its front along with the red flashing light. Putting it back, he leaned in to address the others.
“Our beacons are now out of range. If we ever need to use them, we’ll have to get planetside first.”
“No quick exits,” Captain Beck stated. “If we get hurt up here, then . . . Well, we don’t have Dr. Weiss here to tell us the possibilities.”
“We’ll be careful,” Ben agreed.
“That’s still not going to get in the way of my enjoying all this,” Claire said. “Would you just look at all that out there . . .”
The warning noted, Claire went back to gazing out the window, while Captain Beck felt the little pill easing his nervous stomach. Half an hour later an announcement came from their captain that directed their attention to an even brighter spectacle.
“We are on final approach to Space Vegas, so if you’ll just strap in while we match rotation, you can catch a great view of it. I personally never tire of this sight.”
Ben had imagined a boxy little station, cramped and confined, such as what astronauts in the movies swam through, and Claire had no preconception at all. What they saw, though, exceeded any expectation or lack thereof. It was a vast plate, as if someone had taken an entire city and covered it. The center portion was a solid disc a few miles across and what looked to be several stories tall, with windows dotting its sides. From the center a large shaft grew both up from the top and down through the bottom. A shaft that Captain Beck was certain would be thick enough on which to park the main core of the little international space station from back in 2020 with room to rattle. The upper shaft stretched up a thousand feet before ending at another disc, this one maybe half a mile across and five stories tall. The lower shaft likewise ended at a third disc that was about half the width and height of the main disc.
