had brought Kaz back to the table. Jana replied with shrug and a grin that said 'I'm just that good, what can I say?'
'Well,' said Kairos. 'Here is what I can tell you. On April fifth 2158 the leaders of the Godless rebellion and Earth's
t the conference centre in
city, to
Dora.
Kairos nodded.'
'They do not dream, it is a side-effect of the
why. Certain
be
of a soul and is thus cast out of God's I think it was the Pope who coined the but it caught on and then the
Quil,
say, for we reject superstition and embrace the kind of not for the
quite liked the sound of Quil. First she was a activist, then a crusader for
So why, how, had she tu :o the
they'd met in 1645, and why was : her? Jana had some nasty suspicions, but she did this was the time to voice them, so she bit her lip.
'Anyway,' continued Kairos. 'Quil attended the
peace talks, along with certain key Godless generals. The President of the Earth Emergency Government did not attend, which surprised many, but the Earth delegation was present and nonetheless filled with elder statesmen and women from many nations.
'Above the planet, Earth had attempted to create a blockade and the Godless fleet had halted its advance. A space blockade is nonsense, of course,' he said, breaking out of his serious recitation of facts. Jana sighed; he was clearly about to launch into another digression. 'I mean, you can just fly above, below or around it. It's not like it's a sea battle or something that takes place in two dimensions. Movement through space is movement in three dimensions, and it's therefore categorically a thousand times harder to prevent all movement, as one might in a two- dimensional battle. Perhaps two thousand times. I must remember to calculate that.' He shook himself. 'In any event, the blockade was propaganda, nothing more, but it looked good on TV.'
'So what went wrong?' asked Dora.
Kairos pursed his lips. 'I have to be very careful what I tell you. I need to balance the benefits of you changing history against the risk of telling you so much that if you do change history you'll create a paradox that risks destroying the thing you just fixed. And everything else. So. I have thought about this a lot and what I can tell you is this:
'I can give you two tasks. First, one or more of you will need to get close to the Godless delegation and keep an eye on them. Second, in Barrettown there is a man called John Smith. Find him and talk to him.'
Jana waited for more information and when none was forthcoming she asked, incredulous, 'Is that it? John Smith? It's good job he doesn't have a common name, or he might be hard to find.'
'That's ridiculous,' scoffed Dora. 'What does Smith do? What happens to the Godless? Is there a bomb, or a hitman or some sort of accident? What?'
'I cannot tell you any more than I already have,' said Kairos. 'If you knew the exact nature of the event you are trying to prevent . . .'
'Paradox,' said Jana.
Kairos nodded. 'And an ever bigger disaster would unfold,' he said.
Jana saw Kaz shaking his head in frustration. 'So we're supposed to prevent something happening to someone, but we don't know who or what, only when,' he said.
Kairos fixed Kaz with a wide-eyed stare and said, 'And if you fail, April fifth 2158 will see the single greatest loss of human life ever recorded in a single day.'
In spite of herself, Jana felt a chill at his cold pronouncement. Dora and Kaz must have felt it too, for they fell silent and exchanged glances of mixed confusion and worry.
After a moment, Jana decided to bring the conversation back to practicalities.
'OK,' she said. 'First question: how do we get to Mars?'
'Well,' said Kairos, apparently pleased to be able to change the tone of the conversation. 'Have you not wondered yet how it is that you are not dead?'
'Eh?' said Jana.
'You are travelling in time, yes,' said Kairos. 'But you are also travelling in space. Not just between here and, say, Beirut. But vast, unimaginable distances.'
'Nope, you've lost me,' said Kaz, looking to Dora and Jana to see if either of them were following the professor. Both girls shook their heads.
'Jana gave me the clue when she told me about the glowing
rock she saw in the 'I think you of the
the 'It is, of
'It weakened the structure of time itself as it
shot through with fractures caused by the from now to then. It is these fractures that you travel. And lucky for you that you do, because the of the bomb, the asteroid itself, is buried deep beneath us and
travel. That is why you arrived in Sweetclover Hall when you first travelled - it drew you here. But without the warhead, you would travel only in time, not space.'
Jana had no idea what he was talking about. He looked at the three young people as if everything should now be clear, but obviously Dora and Kaz's faces were as blank as Jana's because he sighed and continued.
'The Earth is in constant motion around the in turn is in motion around the galactic centre, which in is in motion outwards from the centre of our universe,' said Kairos, drawing in the air with his hand to indicate the
back in time an hour - only in time, mind - you would arrive in space, with the Earth thousands of miles distant, cork- screwing towards you. Man overboard. And that would be that for you. But the warhead acts like a magnet, drawing
this of the be blown back
een the up at the
a
'He
t the back
Earth is in the time period you are
Jana thought about this for a moment and found that it made sense, if not for one problem.
'But we travelled to Mars already,5 she said.
'What?5 said a startled-looking Kairos.
'Yes,5 affirmed Dora. 'We did. We were in a battle and we met our future selves.5
Kairos shook his head firmly. 'No,5 he said. 'That cannot have been Mars. It must have been Earth.5
Jana was pretty sure it wasn't. 'The sky was the wrong colour,5 she said.
'Pollution,5 said Kairos firmly.
Jana looked at him sceptically, but didn't push it.
'For you to get to Mars,5 he continued, trying to gloss over the preceding exchange, 'you will need to travel to Earth six months ago. There will be cover identities prepared for you, as well as tickets on the first shuttle to Mars. You have plenty of time to establish your covers and bed yourselves into Barrettowrn before the big day.
'Jana, you will be a journalist, which will give you access to the press conferences and a good excuse to snoop around. Dora, you will be a staff member at the hotel hosting the Godless delegation. Kaz, you will be the wild card - your job will be to work the streets of the city, try and pick up on anything brewing outside the diplomatic zone.5
'And this is all worked out already?5 asked Dora.
'It is,5 replied Kairos.
'By whom?5 she asked.
Kairos shook his head. 'Can't tell you,5 he said. 'After you return here, after Mars, I'll tell you everything.5
'As long as you understand that if you're lying to us - if you're working for Quil, say -1 will kill you,' said Jana quietly.
'Or I will,' said Dora.
'Or me,' said Kaz.
Kairos looked between them nervously and smiled an unconvincing smile.
'Yay,' he said weakly.
'You shouldn't feel guilty,' said Kaz, but Dora was not in the mood to be reassured.
'Of course I should,' she snapped. 'We robbed him of the one thing that's most important - free will.'
Jana took hold of her by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes.
'Your brother was brainwashed,' she said. 'Radicalised by religious fundamentalists. He was a young, lonely, vulnerable boy in a big city for the first time in his life, and they took advantage of him and turned him into a weapon. In my time they have whole teams of people de
dicated to rehabilitating victims of that kind of treatment, assuming they don't blow themselves up first like that poor boy in Beirut.'
Dora unclenched her jaw and nodded. She knew Jana was right, of course she did, but it didn't stop her feeling as if she had taken something that wasn't hers to take.
In 1645 her brother, fired with Puritan zeal, had participated in Dora's lynching, denouncing her as a witch and handing her over to the militia with which he rode. Shortly thereafter, in the undercroft of Sweetclover Hall, he had come
with a sword.
Dora no option but to in the
Dora had thought him unbalanced when she was reunited with him in Pendarn, but now he was utterly insane. The only explanation she could find was his enforced transposition across time and her betrayal of him.
(She knew it wasn't a betrayal, it was absurd to think of it in those terms, she was defending herself and her father, she had no choice - but it felt like a betrayal, deep down, where it mattered, where logic held no sway.)
Kept in restraints, sedated to prevent him hurting himself, James languished in a secure room while Dora and her parents debated what to do with him.
It was Elizabeth who finally suggested they use the mind- writer upon him, and Thomas agreed. As far as they were concerned, if this magical machine could realign the humours within their unbalanced son, then it was a simple and good choice to make.
Dora was both relieved and horrified; thankful that she could see a solution, aghast at the implications of pursuing it. If they tampered with his mind, rewrote it to remove the madness, what would be left? There was no guarantee that the man who remained would be James at all. He would be a construct, a phantom, a virtual personality inhabiting her brother's animated corpse. At least, that is what she thought until she looked through the window of his room and saw him there, foaming at the mouth, writhing and kicking against the straps. Better a future as a happy construct than a life of mania that devoured any remnants of the boy she had grown up with.
So Dora gave the orders to the clinic staff to begin preparing a program for the machine to 'fix' her brother's broken mind, knowing even as she did so that she would never forgive herself for it.
Part of the program involved removing all memories of the clinic, so it was decided that after his mind was altered, he would be kept sedated while Dora returned her family to their bakery in Pendarn in 1645. He would awake, back home, believing himself to have just returned from a failed life in London, seeking safety in the loving bosom of his simple family.
Dora did not stay to see him wake. She could not bear the thought of looking into his eyes again. She left while he slept, lying to her parents as she promised them that she would visit them soon.
After confessing as much to Kaz, he had worked on her, gently but persistently, to return home and visit her family. She resented his interference, but he was kindly and she knew he was right. After their journey through Quil and Jana's lives, Dora found herself with a newborn appreciation of her family, their comparative normality and the value of their unconditional love.
Kaz and Jana were happy to come with her for moral support, although they needed to keep a low profile and not engage with any of the other villagers lest they be bombarded with unanswerable questions about the events that had transpired when the Roundheads came to Pendarn the previous year.
So they arrived at night, in the woods at the edge of the village, and they walked to the back of Dora's home, waiting for the candlelight that would signal Thomas's awakening and the beginning of another day's baking.
But as they stood there patiently in the darkness, Dora found her fear and guilt rising up again and, to her shame, she tried to turn and run away. Kaz, it seemed, was prepared for this, and he blocked her path and calmly assured her that she had nothing to feel guilty for. Jana echoed his sentiments and Dora gradually calmed down.
Before she had a chance to rethink yet again, the glow of a light from behind the windows called her forward.
Til go in first, it'll only be my father,' said Dora. 'Mother and James will be abed for an hour or more yet. I'll come to get you shortly.'
Kaz and Jana did not protest, and Dora, nervous and afraid, pushed open the back door of her house and stepped inside.
A figure was hunched over the oven, preparing the fire. He turned in surprise as Dora closed the door behind her and said, gently so as not to alarm him, 'Hello Father.'
But it was not her father.
James stood in mute wonder, staring at Dora, who must have appeared as a vision in the flickering light of the candle. Her hand flew to her mouth and she gave an involuntary yelp.
How quickly her training had deserted her, she thought. Stepping over this threshold had, with an instantaneous rush of uncontrollable sense memory, stripped away all the layers of protection she had built up around the girl who had last stood in this room. Dora had thought that girl vanquished but here she was, and Dora found herself unexpectedly, overwhelmingly glad to be her again. Perhaps it was fear of her, more than of reuniting with her brother, that had kept her away.
'Oh, I am sorry, James,' said Dora, almost stammering. 'I was expecting Father.'
'Sister?' whispered James. 'Can it be you?'
He stepped forward, holding out the candle, searching out her face in its soft light.
'Yes, James, it is I, your sister Dora,' she said, taking a step forward also. She wanted to run and hold him in her arms, but as she moved to take another step she had a sudden flash of his face as it had been when he dragged her from this room. The cruel sneer on his lips, the bruising hand on her upper arm, the cold contempt in his eyes.
He reached out a hand as if to touch her, to reassure himself of her solidity, and she recoiled slightly.
He stopped his advance and retracted his hand.
'Do I alarm you, Dora?' he asked.
Dora squeezed her hands into tight little fists and willed herself to overcome this weakness. She stepped forward and opened her arms to him.
'Not at all, James,' she said. 'The very opposite, in fact. It gives me great joy to see you again,'
'And I you,' he said, stepping into her embrace and returning it, albeit with a tentativeness that bespoke unease. Dora breathed in the smell of him. It had not changed, and it unlocked yet more parts of her buried self - a memory of lying beside him in the grass looking up as the swallows swooped and dived above them; the sound of his laughter as she tickled him in bed on a cold, frosty night; the feeling of being looked after as he picked her up and carried her home after she fell and cut her knee on a stone in the road.
When the embrace ended, somewhat awkwardly, Dora asked, 'Where is Father?'
'He and Mother have travelled to Lostwithiel, where Goodwife Bamford's granddaughter is being wed,' he replied, to Dora's relief; she had been worried that he might have died while she was absent.
'And he leaves the bakery in your care,' said Dora, smiling.
'He does,' said James.
Dora decided to try a little memory test. 'I recall a time when nothing in this world would have distressed you more than to be, how did you put it? Shackled to the ovens that enslaved us.'
James suddenly looked panicked and upset. 'Did I really say that?' he said. 'I suppose I did. I am sorry for it. My misadventures in London taught me the value of a simple trade pursued with diligence. I was a fool to leave and it shames me that I ever spake to Father thus.'
In that moment Dora felt a chill in her bones the likes of which she had never felt because this shamefaced, downcast, supplicant young man had nothing in common with the James she knew. Her brother had been headstrong and cocksure. Yes, his overconfidence had led him into danger, but it lay at the very core of him. Dora could not be sure whether the man she was talking to, who seemed so devoid of these qualities, was a real person. Is this the man her James would have become had he come to his senses, or was this guilty obeisance the result of their interfering with his mind?
How could she
ever know for sure?
Aghast at what she might have done, Dora pulled him into a hug again.
'It's all past now,' she said. 'Don't worry about it. You're home, that's all that matters.'
But the words sounded hollow to her, and she knew that she would never forgive herself. Repelled by the shade that she had conspired to create, she stepped back from the hug as gently as she could.
'I must collect my things,' she said, moving towards the door.
'Let me help you,' said James, making to follow.
Dora held up her hand. 'No,' she said. 'You start the fire. I shall not be long.'
'As you wish, sister,' he said with a sad smile.
Did he know she was never coming back, she wondered, as she rejoined Kaz and Jana in the woods?
'We're going,' she said.
Before they could bombard her with questions, she grabbed their hands and pulled them after her, knowing that she could never return to Pendarn again.
Carolyn Geary has spent a month on Mars, covering the
preparation for the peace conference.
The air on Mars tastes different.
No, 'taste' is the wrong word. Air swirls around your nose and mouth simultaneously, so your impression of it is neither taste nor smell, but a subtle amalgam of both senses. There is no word to describe the sense of air's composition as experienced by a person, so I will co-opt one — tang.
The tang of the air on Mars is different to the tang of the air on Earth. Even in the most polluted parts of mankind's homeworld the air still has a subtle note of chlorophyll; even in the most pristine, a hint of metal. But the air of Mars — or, more accurately, the air within the dome that encloses the capital city of Barrettown — has a quality of clay, caused by
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