The Legend of Things Past (Beyond Pluto SciFi Futuristic Aventures Book 1)

by Phillip William Sheppard

  So what if the virus had turned bad. Didn’t intent matter?

  But what about the manuals?

  So what? Donovan thought. It could be a coincidence. It didn’t show beyond reasonable doubt that his grandfather programmed the world’s Liao Inserts to infect them with the virus. General McGregor just had a bunch of dots that he was trying to force together because of the message he’d gotten from the future.

  The only thing Donovan could see that his grandfather was guilty of was cloning and negligence. It would earn him a long prison sentence for sure—but at least he wouldn’t be guilty of treason.

  Cloning and negligence Donovan could believe. It made much more sense than Tobias plotting to kill everyone on the planet. His grandfather was a zealot of a scientist. He was passionate about pushing limits, about discovering things that previous generations had thought were impossible. It was far more likely that he would break the law for the sake of discovery.

  Donovan remembered his grandfather’s fervor more than anything else about him. There were times when Donovan was a boy when Tobias had given him lessons and Donovan had suddenly thought that his grandfather was slightly insane. The memory came through in a flood.

  ***

  “And what is the logical conclusion? If we cannot disassemble the atoms and reconstruct them elsewhere? What do we do?”

  The thirteen-year-old Donovan stared at his grandfather, willing the answer to him. Sometimes he wished he could see into his grandfather’s mind and make copies of the information there for himself.

  Tobias had a fire in his eyes that Donovan was all too familiar with—it was as if Tobias wished he could turn the cogs in Donovan’s mind and make him come to the right conclusion.

  Donovan often felt as if his brain was dusty, muggy even, compared to his grandfather’s. The wheels in his mind were not properly oiled and would not work as smoothly.

  Donovan ventured a guess. “Then we should…”

  Tobias’s eyes widened, an expectant expression on his face. He looked a touch crazy, as if he would lose his mind if Donovan gave him the wrong answer.

  “…We should bend the space-time continuum, which eliminates the need to break down the atoms in the first place.”

  “Precisely, my boy! Precisely!” The look on Tobias’s face was euphoric, like he’d come to some life-changing realization. He was so happy that it made Donovan laugh.

  “That’s it. I knew you could think of it on your own. You have my genes, my boy. No mistakes there.”

  Donovan grinned, proud of himself and grateful for his grandfather’s praise.

  “You could go far in the sciences you know.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Of course you could! Do you know what you just accomplished here?” Tobias had a maniacal gleam in his eye. “You just discovered the secret to teleportation! On your own, at the age of thirteen.”

  Donovan just smiled and let his grandfather rant. He had yet to tell Tobias that he didn’t want to go into the sciences—he wanted to join the army, like his father. Donovan wasn’t sure he’d ever work up the courage. For now, he just let Tobias shove information into his brain.

  “Granted,” his grandfather continued, “you did have me to help you. But there are plenty of adult physicists who can’t figure this stuff out with or without help. I think my genius skipped a generation. Your father wasn’t very much good at this.”

  Donovan became still and his smile faded a little. Here we go.

  “He joined the army to be a weapons specialist. As if that would do any good for the world.”

  Donovan had heard this story a million times.

  “He was smart. I know he could have gotten it, had he just tried, but he was lazy up here.” Tobias pointed to his temple. “All he wanted to do was shoot people. Completely uncivilized. Complete waste of talent.”

  “Maybe he just wanted to fight to protect people,” Donovan said, surprising himself.

  His grandfather gave him an odd look. “He just wanted to hold a gun and feel powerful. He could have saved people with science.”

  “Maybe that just wasn’t his way of helping. Maybe he was meant for something else.”

  The way Donovan said it must have triggered Tobias’s suspicion.

  “Are you having doubts?” he asked. “Do you want to join the army like your father? Specialize in guns and fighting?”

  Donovan didn’t answer. He glared at his grandfather.

  “You do remember that it was being an army specialist that killed your father, don’t you?”

  Donovan shrugged. “He died a hero.”

  Suddenly, Tobias was on his feet. “He died a fool!”

  “Not everyone can be a genius!” Donovan snapped back. “Not everyone was meant for this.”

  His grandfather was breathing as if he had just run a marathon.

  Donovan glared back at him. With something close to desperation he said, “Not everyone can be like you.”

  Tobias stared at Donovan as if he’d been struck—but he wasn’t really looking at him. Donovan stepped off his stool and took a step forward.

  “Grandpa?”

  Tobias’s eyes came slowly back into focus. His breathing calmed and he began to nod his head as if answering an unspoken question.

  He looked at Donovan as if seeing him for the first time. “Perhaps not.”

  With that, he turned his back on Donovan and left the room.

  ***

  At times like those, Donovan had feared that his grandfather’s mind was unstable. He could become so angry so quickly then become calm just as fast—like the anger had never been there at all. It left Donovan feeling tense—waiting for his grandfather’s temper to explode. It didn’t always happen, but when it did it was always related to science and was always unexpected. But Donovan refused to believe that this made Tobias a criminal.

  Most of the time, his grandfather had been normal, kind even. He would take Donovan to visit slum cities and give out food to the homeless. He initiated government programs and non-profit organizations that would brought better education to the poor cities that still littered the country. And on some days, when he wasn’t being a genius or a philanthropist, he was an ordinary grandfather and took Donovan out for ice cream.

  Donovan had loved those times, when his grandfather gave him his full attention. There were no lessons, no scientists, no government officials—just the two of them. They had gone to the duck pond near the Santa Monica Square and fed the birds while they licked their desserts. In the summer it was always a beautiful environment—the crisp blue water, the cloudless sky, the many-colored kites that hung in the air, the chirping of birds, the quacking and waddling of the ducks, the laughter of families having a good time together.

  It was amidst all this that they would sit in the grass at the edge of the pond and talk. They would talk about everything from what Donovan was learning in school to what his friends were like, and what area of science he liked the most. In turn, his grandfather would tell him stories about their family—everyone was dead by then, except the two of them. Donovan had never met his grandmother and he was starting to forget his memories of his own parents, so he would always ask a ton of questions about them. He didn’t want his memories to fade completely. He needed his grandfather to keep them alive in his head—otherwise it would be like they never really existed. And then who would Donovan be?

  Who were his parents, really? What were they like? Were they nice people, good people? What had been his father’s favorite flavor? Did he like spicy food? Did he enjoy rollercoasters? Were his parents really in love? Did they really love Donovan? Why did his mother have to die too? What did it mean to die of grief? Didn’t she love him enough to stay?

  Tobias had patiently answered his questions, putting an arm around Donovan’s shoulders. He had assured Donovan that his parents loved him very much, that his father had loved spicy foods and that his favorite flavor was caramel. He loved roller coasters. Donovan’
s parents had been in love since the day they’d met.

  Some questions were not so easy to answer. Sometimes, all Tobias had to give was a simple, “I don’t know, son.”

  “Your parents were good people,” Tobias had said one day at the pond. “They cared about others—about helping them. I never agreed with them about how to go about it—but, still their intentions were true. You see the beauty of this world, Donovan?”

  Donovan had nodded, looking at their surroundings.

  “We almost destroyed it once. But we used science to fix it.”

  Donovan knew this—everyone did.

  “This world could be a utopia, but it isn’t—humans are still humans. Without a world to destroy, we’ll destroy ourselves. The next step in science is to figure out a way to save humans the way we’ve saved Earth.”

  Donovan had thought it was a beautiful notion—saving humans from themselves. But now, as he stared at the ceiling of his room at Fort Belvoir, he had to wonder, who would save the saviors?

  Donovan dragged himself away from the memories of his grandfather to focus on the present. How was he going to clear his name?

  Donovan pulled up the second file General McGregor had attached to his watch. The Laws of Time Travel.

  Too tired to read through it all, Donovan hit the audio button. A simulation of a human voice emanated from the watch.

  The laws writ herein shall be the sovereign law of temporal manipulation in the United States of America.

  No individual or organization shall own a temporal manipulation unit outside the express permission of the T.M.A.C.P.U.

  There shall be no messages sent through time except in states of extreme emergency such as nationwide or worldwide catastrophe.

  There shall be no persons sent through time except in states of extreme emergency such as nationwide or worldwide catastrophe. A person or persons can only be sent through time if their presence cannot cause further harm to the future.

  Only one person can be sent through time from any given point in time.

  Only one person can be sent through time to resolve a specific issue. That person can only be sent once. If that person fails to resolve the issue that he or she was assigned, the government may not send that person or any other through time to resolve the same problem.

  Travelers shall not reveal their identities to any person in another time unless strictly necessary to the task they are assigned to complete.

  Violation of these laws may cause irreversible and/or irreparable damage to history.

  Violators shall be punished to the fullest extent of the law.

  Well, that seemed simple enough. Don’t mess with time unless the world’s going to end. Don’t tell anyone you’re from a different time period. Easy.

  Except the fact that it would be difficult for Donovan to get any information from his grandfather without revealing who he was. He’d get very little from Tobias as a stranger, but if Tobias knew that Donovan was his future grandson.

  But the law was clear. It had to be strictly necessary. Donovan could probably get what he wanted without letting his grandfather know—it would just be more challenging.

  Donovan rubbed his eyes. He was exhausted from the trip in the time machine. Adding the stress of finding out that the government suspected his grandfather of attempting to kill off the human race made his eyes droop heavily. He wanted to go to sleep, but his mind wouldn’t stop racing. All he could think about was how he was going to talk to his grandfather. What approach would he take?

  Nothing came to mind.

  Donovan’s stomach growled and only then did he realize that he was starving. He got up and stretched. He readjusted his watch. He had followed the technological development of watches for the last twenty years, buying new models each time they came out. He had watched them phase out in favor of the more personal capabilities of Liao Inserts. No matter how normalized Liao Inserts became, Donovan couldn’t talk himself into getting them.

  The halls of Fort Belvoir were much the same in this time as they were in the future—long, narrow, and full of slide show pictures of long-dead military women and men. Standard industrial carpet lined the floors.

  Donovan followed the path that would lead to the cafeteria eighty-two years from now, wondering if it had stayed in the same location all those years. It had, but it would clearly be remodeled at least once before 2258 came around. The one in the future was full of stainless steel surfaces and black granite table tops. This one still had wood tables and chairs.

  On one side of the room there was an old-school-style food-serving area. People lined up with trays and the staff behind the counter scooped the food out of deep dishes and plopped it onto their plates as they passed by.

  On the other side was a full menu hanging from the ceiling and a counter where you placed your order. Then the cooks made your food fresh. Donovan headed in that direction, not too intrigued by the options he saw in the tray line.

  The cafeteria was just as crowded then as it would be in Donovan’s time. All the tables were full and the kitchen staff moved at a feverous but controlled pace. Donovan wasn’t sure how the meal plans were structured in 2176, but he knew he’d have free food while he was here, so he didn’t bother trying to find out.

  Donovan stepped into line behind a man with brown hair. He was average height and, from his uniform, Donovan could tell he was a Captain. When the man sensed Donovan come up behind him, he turned around and gave him a friendly nod.

  When Donovan was next in line, still pondering the menu, wondering what was good, someone spoke from behind him.

  “You should go for the barbeque burger. It never fails.”

  Donovan turned around to see a stunningly attractive woman. She had on a blue vest over a white t-shirt and a pair of fitted black pants. Everything she wore had dozens of pockets. She was tall, and her muscles were clearly visible through her clothes.

  Donovan smiled at her automatically, eyes drawn to her smooth brown skin and almond shaped eyes. Her black hair was cropped short, stopping around her ears and had dark blue streaks running through it. Instantly, Donovan was reminded of some jungle cat like a tiger, something both powerful and beautiful. The way she held herself, so balanced, told Donovan that she was probably a good fighter.

  “Is that so?” Donovan asked. “I think I’ll give it a try. Thanks for the recommendation.”

  She smiled, flashing perfect white teeth. “No problem. I’m Tracee Parker by the way. Brigadier General. Army Specialist.”

  Donovan’s smile widened. “Well, what a coincidence.” He shook her proffered hand. “I’m also a Brigadier General and Army Specialist. Donovan Knight.”

  “Oh!” She seemed surprised. “What brings you to Fort Belvoir?”

  “A special case. Can’t talk about it.”

  “Ah, I see,” Tracee said.

  By then it was Donovan’s turn to order. He followed Tracee’s recommendation.

  As he took his order number, she said, “You won’t regret it.” She winked at him.

  Donovan’s extremities tingled. He smiled. “Thanks a lot.”

  He sat down to wait for his food, played around on his watch, and looked at Tracee out of the corner of his eye. She was interesting to say the least. He wondered how strong she really was, what her specialties were. When she turned in his direction he quickly redirected his gaze back to his watch, pretending to scroll through some articles.

  When he looked back up she was talking animatedly to another soldier. She was still chatting with him when Donovan’s order was up—they seemed to know each other well. He retrieved his food and sat back down. He had planned to eat in his room and go to sleep, but he didn’t feel so tired anymore.

  Tracee was still talking to the other solider when her own order was ready. Donovan watched her grab her food and walk in his general direction. His chest expanded. He looked down at his plate and took another bite. When he looked up again, Tracee had passed his table and was headed out the
door.

  The little bubble in his chest burst, leaving him feeling disappointed. He ate the rest of his meal without distraction then returned to his room. As he lay on the bed, eyes closed, waiting for sleep to overcome him, he thought of his wife, her soft form and how she would be wondering where he was.

  He had never called her back. Would the General contact her? No, probably not. He’d said that if Donovan was successful… then he’d never be sent on this mission in the first place. He would change the future. His mind bent at the thought of it.

  If he stopped his grandfather from programming the Inserts with the virus—if, in fact, that’s what he’d actually done—then he would never get the virus and neither would anyone else. He would never get the strange news after his first physical when he joined the army. The army would never quarantine his house, would never scare his children. In the future, after leaving his grandfather’s hospital room, he would go back to his wife.

  A thought occurred to Donovan and he sat bolt upright.

  What will happen to me? The me who’s sitting right here, right now?

  There would be no future for him to go back to. If he changed everything and was never sent to Fort Belvoir, then there would be two of him when Donovan returned to 2158. Unless… Donovan’s brain seemed to twist in his skull, trying to grasp information just out of his reach. He tried to remember everything his grandfather had ever told him about time travel.

  Then it came to him. If he was successful on this mission, this version of himself, the flesh and blood person sitting there, would disappear as if he’d never really existed. It would be as good as being dead.

  Suddenly, Donovan felt trapped. The room felt too small and he couldn’t breathe. There wasn’t enough air in there for him to draw breath. He got out of the bed and stumbled to the floor, the energy gone from his body.