by Paul Siluch
“What’s the problem?” Max’s voice crackled in her earpiece.
The target appeared in the crosshairs of her binoculars. He paced in front of a park bench, on which lay a crumpled beige trench coat. Humidity curled the edges of his sandy brown hair. He dabbed his face with a tissue and checked his watch, oblivious to the lush green cove surrounding him.
“The problem is he’s a big fat sweaty mess,” she said. “He’s disgusting. Dis. Gus. Ting. Are you sure he’s the one?”
“DNA confirms it,” Max said. “That’s our guy. See for yourself. Extraction in ten seconds.”
The target threw his soggy tissue in the closest trash bin. Kyoko rack-focused on the bin as the target continued his pacing.
Three. Two. One. The air above the trash bin wavered. It creased open. A red-gloved hand snatched the tissue and disappeared as the crease resealed. Kyoko didn’t need the binoculars to identify it. The red-gloved hand was her own, from eight months ago.
“Yes!” She pumped her fist. “Extraction complete!”
“This is it, people,” Max said as cheers erupted in the background. “Operation Desert Falcon has launched.”
“It should be Operation Dessert Falcon.”
“Listen to the wit flow,” Max said. “Like molasses. Why did you get picked for this mission again?” The volume in Kyoko’s earpiece rose and fell slightly. “Perimeter scans clear here.”
“Verifying.” Kyoko swept the cove with the binoculars. “Not because I’m a great pilot. Because I’m hot and easy. Duh. Everyone knows it except you.”
Max burst out laughing. So did the rest of the team in the background.
“When I asked for you to be my handler, I thought you’d handle me,” Kyoko said. “I’ve thrown myself at you in every possible way. What’s a girl to do?”
“Never gonna happen, Kyoko. You’re like a sister to me.”
“I have one word for you, Max. ‘I hate you’.”
“That’s three words.” More laughter.
“Dammit!” Kyoko slapped the tree again. “Well, now we know why there’s no photos of him from this era. Some lackey had to delete them all.” She blanched as she raised the binoculars back to her eyes. “Poor lackey.”
“What is it they say about never meeting your heroes?” Max chuckled.
“Whatever it is, you can say that again.”
A second crease opened over the trash bin.
“What the hell?” Kyoko zoomed in.
Another red-gloved hand shoved its way through, this time leaving something white and square in the bin. The hand pointed at her, then disappeared as the crease folded around it. Kyoko zoomed in even closer on the white square.
It was a sealed envelope with the words, “To Kyoko. Tell Max it’s nothing. Love, Kyoko,” scrawled across it in her own handwriting.
Her stomach dropped.
“Kyoko,” Max’s voice lost its teasing tone. “We’re getting an anomalous reading here. Status?”
“It’s nothing,” Kyoko said, recovering. “A civilian almost crossed the perimeter. False alarm.”
“That was too close for comfort,” Max snapped. “Get your heads in the game, people. Commence target interception.”
“Yes, sir,” Kyoko said, still staring at the envelope.
“Comm silence in five,” Max said. “Remember, stick to the plan. We’re counting on you.” He paused. “Be careful, Molasses.” The earpiece clicked twice, and went silent.
Kyoko powered down the binoculars and put them in her handbag. She checked her watch. She had less than a minute to get it together. She slumped against the tree and rubbed her temples.
The mission was straightforward. Acquire the target. Bring him seventy years in the future. Extract the technical knowledge and the blood. Save the world, wipe his memory, and return him to his time zone.
They had monitored this exact moment in time for years, and the time bubble confirmed their success. For four minutes, two minutes before and two after what they assumed was the extraction, this section of the park and the target were unreadable on the instruments.
But nothing on any of the instruments suggested that Kyoko had done it twice.
She had always been a troublemaker. She loved her team and the assignments and the missions, but she also loved to undermine authority once in a while, go against the strict structure of it all. It was a thrill to get away with things.
She stared at her hands, swathed in the red leather gloves she’d seen not once, but twice. What had she done? Had she gone too far? Or was she forced to make the second appearance at someone else’s bidding? Was she in trouble, or was she trying to fix what had gone wrong?
Kyoko checked her watch. She checked her gut. If she had gone to so much trouble to give herself a message, she was going to listen to it. She trusted no one more than herself.
Kyoko felt the air shift when the time bubble formed. She ran to the trash bin, grabbed the envelope and examined it. It was time-sealed for thirty minutes. She crammed the envelope into her pocket.
The target continued pacing. He muttered to himself. Kyoko took advantage of his distracted state to straighten her clothes, fluff her hair, and inspect him.
His grey blazer wouldn’t close around his waist, and the cuffs of his pants dragged under the heels of his cloudy black shoes. He looked like a child playing dress-up in his father’s suit. Up close, his cheeks weren’t fat, but round with youth.
He was so young.
She peeled off her gloves and tucked them into her handbag. She squared her shoulders.
“Excuse me, Daniel? Daniel Hilborn?” She approached him, hand extended. “I’m Kyoko Morioka.” She twirled a strand of shiny black hair. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.” She smiled sweetly. “I’m looking forward to our lunch date.”
“Uh…yeah,” he said. He grasped her hand in his. “Me too.” His smile was crooked.
“Before we go, I was hoping we could have a little chat.” Kyoko gestured towards the park bench. “Your profile said you’re with the physics department. What area?”
“Time travel.” Daniel said as they sat down. He smoothed his tie. “People usually laugh when I tell them that.” He kept smoothing his tie. “You’re even more beautiful than your profile picture,” he blurted.
Kyoko felt her cheeks flush. “Funny, I was going to say your picture was a bit misleading,” she heard herself say.
What are you doing? Her mind screamed. She pictured her grandmother, frowning and wielding her wooden spoon.
She forced a smile. “I mean that in a good way.” She crossed her legs. “How is your research going?”
“Not fast enough,” he muttered, watching her slim ankle bob up and down. “My future self hasn’t shown up to stop me from making a fool of myself.”
“That would be impossible,” she said as she took his hand, “since we’re in a time bubble.” She slapped a time cuff on Daniel’s wrist.
“Don’t panic,” she said. “You’re temporarily paralyzed.” She adjusted him on the bench and climbed on to his lap. “But good news. You’re closer to a breakthrough than you think. I’m from seventy years in the future, and we need you to save us all.”
She tilted his face up and carefully closed his eyelids.
“Moving in five. Four. Three.”
She patted his frozen jowls.
“Most people think I’m pretty until they get to know me.”
She pressed the watch’s frantically-blinking green face. The air shimmered around them, and they were gone.
♦♦♦
When they materialized in the timejet, the cockpit was bathed in low, red light. Hazard sirens wailed. Kyoko untangled her stiff limbs and limped to the control panel. She flopped into the captain’s chair and keyed in the appropriate authorization codes. It had taken eighteen minutes longer than estimated, and her body, clenched around Daniel’s paralyzed form, was now paying the price.
Her earpiece snapped to life as the sirens died.
The red light faded to a cheerful yellow.
“This is Lieutenant Kyoko Morioka, code authorization Beta Gamma Five Zero One Two Zeta,” she said. “Extraction complete, but the jet’s at level four emergency.” She was greeted with static. She raised her fist to pound the control panel just as the static dropped away. “Repeat, Command. I lost transmission.”
“This is Commander Maxwell Crane. Authorization received. Welcome back, Kyoko!” Cheers and applause filled her earpiece. She heard two faint clicks, and the applause abruptly ended. “Looks like the time-tether did some damage to the left nacelle during the extraction. Guess we didn’t count on our target being a fat ass.”
“You don’t know half of it, Max. My legs are killing me. I was wrapped around him for forever.”
“I’ll oversee your physical when you get back. Personally.”
“Now whose wit is flowing like corn syrup?”
“Molasses.” Max cleared his throat. “Those eighteen minutes were the longest of my life. I’ll tell you about it when you get back. Over dinner.”
“Well, well, well.” A smile spread across Kyoko’s face. “Gather round, kids. This is a lesson in perseverance.”
“Initiate repair code Delta. That should get you on your way in about five hours.”
“Acknowledged.” Kyoko’s screen flashed yellow. “Max, I have an error reading from Delta maintenance file. Are there any other repair codes I can use?”
“What’s the error code?”
“Four oh four, file not found,” she said.
“I’m rerunning the diagnostic. It’ll take a minute.” Another two almost inaudible clicks followed. “Maybe when you get back, you can wear that little gold number.”
“Gold number?”
“The one I got you for your birthday.”
Her hands paused over the controls. Max has never given me a birthday present. “Right,” she said. “Tell me again where we were when you gave it to me?” She forced a laugh. “There have been so many presents, I can’t keep track.”
“At my place, when we blew off that meeting with Brooks.” Max lowered his voice. “And that wasn’t the only thing I gave you.”
“How could I forget?” She slapped a bright blue button. “Request for C-TAC,” she blurted.
Her earpiece filled with high, staccato clicks. Kyoko’s heart raced. She pressed her hand to her pocket. The note was still there.
“Lieutenant,” said a deep voice. “This is Captain Brooks. You are on a secure C-TAC line.”
Kyoko blinked back tears. “I believe my handler has been compromised, sir.”
“The mission has been compromised, Lieutenant, so for now, we will assume you are correct. Your orders are to return to headquarters as quickly as possible. Repair code Theta should execute in thirty hours.”
“Yes, sir.” She keyed in commands. “Sir, if I execute repair codes Omicron and Theta simultaneously, that should cut down the repair time.”
“By how much?”
“We should get out of here in ten hours, sir.”
“Do it. And Lieutenant, the target is the top priority. Your only priority. Understood?” Rapid clicks filled her earpiece.
“Yes, sir.” Kyoko’s heart sank. The secure line wasn’t secure after all. “Morioka out.”
She ripped it out of her ear and threw it across the cockpit. She buried her face in her hands.
A pitiful “ruuuuuuuh…” came from the back of the timejet.
“Sounds like you’re thawing,” Kyoko mumbled through her hands. She rose from the captain’s chair and stretched her sore limbs. She grabbed a blue blanket from an overhead storage bin and approached Daniel.
“Hang on,” she said. She yanked the time cuff off of his wrist and tossed it over her shoulder.
“Ruuuuuh!”
“You’re fine,” she said, ignoring his glare. “Leaving the time stream is a cold business. We would’ve gone faster if you weren’t such a…” She arranged the blanket over him. “Anyway. This’ll help you warm up. Move around as soon as you feel tingles. We’ll talk in a few minutes. I know you have questions.”
Kyoko moved into the small galley behind the cockpit and placed two paper cups of coffee powder in the High Power Microwave. While the beverages transformed into liquid, she set the timer on the HPM for ten hours.
Kyoko set one steaming cup on the ledge beside Daniel and sipped the other as she returned to the captain’s chair. The coffee warmed her stomach. She dug the note from her pocket and cracked the time-seal. Staring at her own handwriting took her breath away.
1. The maximum is not what you think. It goes higher.
2. Five is too young and thirty is too old. A decade younger and you’re sitting pretty.
3. Daniel knows how to look up.
4. This is a gift: remember what Sobo taught us.
Kyoko placed the note on the control panel and smoothed it with her palms. She leaned back in the captain’s chair and played with the ends of her long, black hair while she deciphered her future self’s code.
“The maximum is not what you think” was definitely about Max, because that’s how she referred to him in her diary. She was paranoid about diaries. Even her parents had code names.
The “not what you think” part had to be about her earpiece being riddled with clicks. Millions had been spent to ensure crystal-clear transmissions to and from the timejet, no matter where – or when – it was. She didn’t know if the transmission had been monitored or if previous recordings of Max’s voice had been spliced together or what, but it was wrong enough to put her on high alert.
“It goes higher” could include anyone, even Captain Brooks.
“Five is too young and thirty is too old” seemed like gibberish at first. Kyoko wondered if she was too clever for her own good. But then, she remembered how Max and Captain Brooks had given her the repair estimates of five hours or thirty hours. She deduced “a decade younger” meant “twenty,” and “sitting pretty” meant “don’t move.”
She swore. The timejet would be repaired in ten hours, not twenty. Half of the time her future self had allotted.
A light footstep creaked behind her.
Kyoko glanced up just as Daniel tossed his blanket over Kyoko’s head.
“Are you kidding me?” She flipped backwards over the chair and kicked Daniel squarely in the chest. He fell back into the chair, knocking over his coffee.
“Did you even think this through?” Kyoko asked. “Incapacitating me with a blanket?”
“Please,” Daniel wheezed. “Let me go. Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you. I swear.”
“What I want is for you to drink this coffee when it’s ready,” she said, walking back to the HPM. “You’ll feel better. I need you sharp.”
Daniel sputtered and clutched his chest. He turned his head away from the offered beverage.
“What are you so upset about?” Kyoko said. She set the cup on the ledge again. “You should be thanking me. You’re living your dream.” She wiped up the mess on the floor with the blanket.
“Dream? To be kidnapped by a complete psycho? More like a nightmare!” He stood and he ran his hand through his hair. “My mother was right. No more internet dating.”
“Why don’t you look around?” Kyoko gestured behind her. “You invented all of this stuff. Don’t you recognize it?”
Daniel glanced around the cockpit. A long control panel containing dials, buttons and throttles filled the lower half of the front wall. A giant viewscreen occupied the top half. Placed in front of the control panel were two luxurious leather captain’s chairs. Bunk beds and the small kitchen area completed the wall behind him.
“You’re crazy!” He cringed and stepped back.
Kyoko sighed. “I don’t have time for this. This is a timejet. You invented it.” She gripped his shoulder and spun him towards the front screen. “We’re docked on the rim of time. See? See how the walls of the tunnel are blurred?”
Daniel blinked a few tim
es. “Tunnel?”
“You’re kind of slow, aren’t you?” She tightened her grip on his shoulder. “Maybe I got the wrong guy after all.”
“I…” Daniel took a step towards the screen. His eyes widened. “Is…is that a…time stream?”
Kyoko loosened her grip. “Yes.”
Daniel studied the screen. “We’re facing the same direction as the patterns here,” he pointed at the blurry walls, “so we’ll be moving with time. We’re going into the future?”
“Yeah. It’s faster than going into the past since we’re not going against the time current.”
“So…I did it. I mean, I’ll do it.”
“Yeah. But–”
“It’s really true,” Daniel interrupted. “We’re time-traveling. We’re time-traveling!” He pumped his fist and spun on one heel. “Yes!”
“Not yet. We’re docked. There’s–”
“I can’t get over how much the time stream looks like Doctor Who,” he said in awe.
“Doctor who?”
Daniel strode to the control panel. “Show me how it works?” He pointed a finger at a large green button.
Kyoko slapped his hand. “Sit down and don’t touch anything. Got it? We’re in enough danger as it is.” She flopped in the captain’s chair. “I have to keep your dumb ass safe.”
Daniel sank into the co-captain’s chair.
“Good. Don’t say anything. Not one word. I need to think.” She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples again.
“Kyoko.”
“What did I just say?”
“Don’t call me names,” he said. “You don’t have to like me, but I won’t help you if you’re mean to me.”
Kyoko stared at him.
“I’m serious. You came back in time because you need my help. I won’t help bullies. If everyone in your time is like you, then good riddance.”
Kyoko pursed her lips. She flipped a few switches on the control panel and sat back. “You’re right. Sorry.” She extended her hand. “Try again?”
Daniel studied her. “Okay.”
They shook once.
“I guess you didn’t come all the way from the future to have a lunch date with me,” Daniel said.
“No.” Kyoko turned back to the control panel. “The timejet you invented has been under the control and jurisdiction of the United States military since they partnered with you. In the whole history of the project, it’s only been used on three occasions.”
