by D. J. Gelner
The image in front of me went blank. I couldn’t help but notice that Commander Sanchez actually smiled in the corner of the room.
“So, what did you think?” Sanchez asked
“That was…err…interesting…” I said.
“Our marketing department felt that adding a little humor to the presentation would lighten the mood, maybe get folks’ minds off of the dangers inherent in time travel.”
“What dangers? Like timeline pollution?” I decided to have a bit of fun with the lovely lady.
The famous Sanchez eye roll reappeared, “Don’t tell me I have to give you the lecture about—”
“Of course not,” I cut her off. “I was just winding you up a bit, having a laugh, that sort of thing.” I chuckled nervously.
Sanchez met me with a glare, “Dangers meaning going too far back in time, too far forward, missing your rendezvous, inserting yourself into an overly hostile situation, or even, I don’t know, the whims of what we’ve figured out is a finicky universe, you know, real dangers.”
“Too far back or forward meaning either end of the universe?” I asked.
“Not…exactly,” Sanchez’s expression grew more grave. “Too far back meaning too far to reliably calculate the trip back.”
“But we’re tens of millions of—”
Sanchez interrupted me with a sigh, “There is…a beacon, of sorts, I suppose you could call it. We brought it back here since the dinosaur package was so popular. Don’t ask me how it works, but somehow it makes trips here and back more reliable.”
While my mind raced with the physics involved in the very notion of such a device, I decided to occupy her with another question.
“And too far forward?”
“That’s the more troubling problem. Anytime we send people farther in the future than April 20th, 2102 they don’t make it back.”
“What do you mean ‘don’t make it back?’”
“As in, they don’t return. We don’t know if they can’t return, or if something cataclysmic happens, or if something wonderful happens, but no one has ever made it back from further than that in the future. People have made it back from the 19th of April just fine, and everything was normal, or I should say as normal as it can be in the future. But even if someone’s scheduled to come back the 19th and misses the rendezvous, we never hear from them again, which is odd, since we usually can just send another machine from the future back to their—”
“Own time?” I tried to complete her thought, probably in the hopes that it would impress her.
“Exactly,” It did not. “The worrisome thing is that the same thing happens with 9/11, or the start of World War II or World War III; people drain their life’s savings to try to go back and stop these events, but for whatever reason, they’re ultimately unsuccessful. We try to convince them that they’re wasting their time, money, and lives, but they insist on going on these stupid errands to nowhere. The universe has a funny way of ensuring that what should happen happens.”
“Quite,” I decided to see if perhaps history in the further future might be more kind to my own plight, “Yet you’ve never heard of me? Phineas Templeton?”
She furrowed her brow, “Can’t say that I have, sir. Honestly, something’s terribly fishy. HQ wants you treated like a king, but something in all of this just doesn’t add up. It feels like you’re—we’re—being used.”
“I know exactly what you mean…” I said. I thought Sanchez hit the nail spot on the head with her assessment; it was almost as if I was floating through a play, assuming a role while dutifully saying its lines and hitting its marks.
“So there’s no chance you can take me back to 2032?” I asked.
She shook her head, “Sorry, most of our missions are resupplies from 2041. Even if we could, I’m under strict orders to not allow you passage on any ship other than your own.”
“Headquarters?” I asked with a frown.
“Exactly.”
“And about this Commander Corcoran—”
She shook her head, “No one really knows. He was kept in quarantine for a while, and the Army did all they could to keep the discovery under wraps for years. They even put out a few different versions of events just so no one would actually know what happened.”
“And this ‘ChronoSaber?’” I asked.
“Sorry, sir—that’s classified.”
I could no longer hide my exasperation and shrugged, “So one of the greatest accomplishments of all time, a startling jump forward for the human race, an entire new industry sprung out out of the ether in the blink of an eye, and you don’t know, or more accurately, won’t tell me the story of how it happened?” I felt my eyes narrow at poor Sanchez, though I shouldn’t characterise her as such.
“Look, sir, it may seem odd to you, but to us, it’s completely normal. I know the war was winding down when you left, but afterward, as you can imagine, security got a bit tighter. R&D programs went completely black, and intel went through four or five different iterations, sometimes purposely filled with disinformation to prevent the enemy from figuring anything out. So yes, though Commander Corcoran may be a genius, and a bit of a rake, he took an oath to keep the details of his journey secret, and he’s honoring that oath to this day.”
Her gaze was measured and steely; this was a woman who could obviously more than take care of herself. It was clear that though she had been ordered to answer (some of) my inquiries, she regarded it as a chore, one of those “official duty”-type errands that individuals in positions of power dreaded.
I tried to meet her stare, but my eyes widened as my skin went pallid and damp. I would like to say that I wasn’t frightened by her, but all indications were to the contrary.
Rather than suffer any more verbal beatdowns, I decided to ask one final question.
“I do say, thank you, Commander. One final thing—is there someone in your outfit with the initials ’T.R.’? Perhaps a Torrance or Terrance, or Thomas, or Tyler, or—”
She smiled curtly, “Dr. Templeton, of the forty-seven soldiers and employees on base, we have a Tom and a Tiffany,” I gulped as I realised I hadn’t included any females in my ridiculous list, “but neither has a last name beginning in R. Why do you ask?”
“Well, you see, I have a rather curious list of tasks to accomplish, and my errand for this era is to ‘dine with T.R.’”
Sanchez snorted as the grin returned to her lovely face.
“I think I know exactly what you need to do.”
Chapter Nine
“The LR-15 Laser Rifle is one of the most efficient and deadliest killing machines of all time. It accelerates a bolt of halogen plasma to the speed of light at the rate of one hundred fifty rounds per minute. This ain’t your daddy’s hunting rifle.” What made this speech more surreal was the fact that it was being delivered by a petite black woman named Alyson (“with one L and a Y”) who had greeted me with a sweet “hello” and warm smile moments before.
“You are not to point your rifle at any human targets during engagement. You are only to target saurians, and even then these rifles cannot guarantee success. T-Rexes are mean sons of bitches, and before you know it they’ll be on you and using your femur as a toothpick. Am I making myself clear?”
I nodded, though the flak helmet covering my head dipped in front of my eyes when I did so. Apparently though the future had terrifying automatic laser guns and time machines, they still couldn’t solve the problem of properly-fitted headwear.
“Good. Now, Templeton, you’ll be in the back of the rover. She might not look like much, but she’s got some get-up and go. Accelerates to eighty-eight in under three seconds. It is, to use a technical phrase, some ‘serious shit,’ but Liam over here,” Alyson pointed to a lanky, blonde bloke with aviator glasses, “is one of our best drivers. He knows the paths, and he knows how these things think. If you trust him, you might make it back here alive.
“Stay in the back of the buggy at all times. If you exit the buggy, we wi
ll not come back for you—you’ll already be sloshing around, dissolving in one of these damned thing’s stomachs.” I grimaced; the thought had already crossed my mind. “Keep your gas mask on at all times. We wouldn’t want you to faint again.”
“It was hyperoxia, I can’t really—” I interrupted, but was cut off.
“You’re the only one scheduled for today, since it was supposed to be our day off,” she lowered narrowed eyes at me. “But orders are orders, and these came from HQ, so you must be someone pretty goddamned important. I’ll be riding in the back of the second buggy, with Jayden, just in case anything goes wrong. If the shit really hits the fan, remember: return to base. We have all kinds of nasty firepower we can throw at these things.
“Any questions?” Alyson asked as the sweet smile finally returned. I was quite taken with the petite, yet extraordinarily capable young lady. It was all I could do to blush and shake my head.
She snorted, “Well, guess I covered anything then. It really is pretty simple,” she raised her rifle toward the force-field at the end of the long hangar. “Just point, and pull the trigger. Aim for the brain—granted, it’s a small target, but I’ve seen little old ladies knock these things out.” She fiddled with a device on her wrist for a moment, and, sure enough, a holopic of a grandmotherly-looking sort popped up in front of us. The look on the woman’s face was positively Rambo-esque as she posed with a T-Rex head that looked like a prop from Jurassic Park, save for the fact that this one had a sizable hole of singed flesh where its right eye should have been.
“If there’s nothing else…” she paused to allow me to interject, but I really couldn’t think of anything at the moment. I had never really hunted for sport before…though I suppose I had never hunted for meat, either.
This was a different kind of hunting, though, something dare I say beyond sport, purposely going out into an extraordinarily dangerous scenario with a very real chance of death. I had never been much of a risk-taker previously, save for trusting my Benefactor and using a time machine without taking it for a test run, but I had to admit, this was exhilarating. I don’t know if it was the strong, independent, beautiful women with whom I had been in contact at the base, or the extra oxygen that no doubt still coursed through my veins, but for some reason, deep inside my brain, below countless physics equations and tidbits of historical trivia, there was a very base layer that very much wanted to kill one of these giant lizards, perhaps the greatest land predator in the planet’s history, to show that, yes indeed, I could engage in as manly of pursuits as anyone in history.
Of course, having the holopic of the ordeal would also be pretty neat. Not to mention that I was getting an experience that normally cost several million dollars for nothing.
I followed Alyson, who covered a surprising amount of ground for someone of her size, and Liam as we made our way to the first buggy. A uniformed black man ran to us, and smiled. Alyson met his look with a scowl, but the newcomer simply shrugged.
“Templeton, this is Jayden Washington, the other driver. Late as usual,” Alyson said through gritted teeth.
“It was my day off!” Washington protested, but Alyson’s scowl remained.
We made our way to the first rover at the far end of the hangar. It was a curious little contraption, like a compact dune buggy, but with the added benefit of powerful laser weaponry.
Liam put on his helmet and protective gear toward the front of the vehicle.
“I, err…so you’re pretty good at this?” I asked.
He shrugged, “Been here since we opened. Ain’t dead yet. Can’t say the same for some of my colleagues, though.”
“So it actually is dangerous then. That wasn’t all poppycock ginned up to scare me?”
Liam laughed and shook his head, “Hell no! We have billionaires that have become giant, T-Rex cowpies. Ever heard of H. Houston Mifflin?” I must’ve met the question with a dazed expression. “Of course not—you’re ‘from the past.’ Anyway, guy made a fortune in robotics. One day, he decides he’s going to hunt dinosaurs. Real gung-ho guy, but kind of a prick. We get out there and this guy decides he wants to face the thing down mano a mano, capice? Some kind of wild west, showdown at sundown bullshit, I don’t know. So he unbuckles, gets out, and before he can hit the ground, the bastard has him in its teeth. Wasn’t a pretty sight.”
“And you’re positive this happened? It’s not some urban legend designed to—”
“Who do you think was driving?” He lifted up his sunglasses as his eyes fixed on mine, his jaw clenched, unflinching.
I gulped. What am I getting myself into? I thought. Perhaps my bravado was just that—false courage. Once more, I was certain that my Benefactor wanted nothing more than to send me to my doom.
I hopped in the backseat and strapped myself in. I turned my attention to the LR-15. It wasn’t nearly as sleek as any “ray gun” in a science fiction series. It was probably twenty to thirty pounds of brushed metal tubes and gas, an odd sculpture that was almost as ugly as it promised to be deadly. Had I not known any better, I would have guessed that it was some sort of deranged miniaturisation of a long, thin city’s waterworks. Instead, it was the only thing that would stand between myself and certain doom at the otherwise humorously tiny hands of the T-Rex.
“You ready?” I heard Liam through my helmet’s radio.
“I suppose I am. Why not, eh? I always say—”
The buggy jolted forward, as I almost lost the laser gun from my loose grip around its stock. It was a curious sensation, like being dragged behind a boat, backwards, at an incredible rate of speed. When I came to my senses, I noticed the oddly-matched sounds of Credence Clearwater Revival’s “Up Around the Bend” blasting through the speakers in my helmet. The music softened for a few moments.
“Sorry there, buddy; probably shoulda warned ya, but hey, this was way more excitin’, wasn’t it?” he chuckled. “How’s the music treatin’ ya?”
“Quite fine, thank you.” I hoped my voice wasn’t too tremulous as I yelled through the microphone.
Liam laughed again, “All of these millionaires seem to eat this shit up. Gets their blood pumping or, hell, Christ, I don’t know, their dicks hard. I’m more of a Bieber fan myself, especially once he ditched all of that teeny bop shit. Real classic shit that really has an edge, you know?”
“I…err…well…I suppose…” Truth be told, I couldn’t stand most of the rubbish that passed for “rock music” nowadays. Especially Justin Beiber, whom I found to be particularly reprehensible.
“Awright, well, I s’pose we’ll be in T-Rex country pretty soon. May wanna get your rifle all set up and ready to go.” I gripped the stock of the rifle, which seemed rather plastic and cheap compared with the rest of the sturdy (if cumbersome) collection of metal pipes and gizmos.
“These paths are set up in a set of joined concentric circles, all the better to confuse the stupid things if something goes wrong. We’re headed to the middle right now. Once we’re there, get ready to see somethin’ that’ll blow your fuckin’ mind.”
I nodded, though in hindsight I don’t know why; my back was to his, and we had no way of viewing one another. I thought I might have another minute or so to process that I was actually hunting dinosaurs sixty-five million years ago, but the buggy covered ground extraordinarily quickly, and before I knew what exactly was happening, we stopped in a large clearing, probably several miles from the base. It was as Liam had described it; a large, roundish area, perhaps a half mile across. Four paths radiated out from the middle.
What was rather extraordinary, however, was that a “family” or “pride” of stegasaurii grazed not but a hundred feet in front of me!
“I thought this was the cretaceous!” I couldn’t help but exclaim.
“Yeah, lots of folks get a kick out of that. ‘Stegosaurus was a jurassic dinosaur!’ Like they have any clue!” Liam laughed again. “All I know is that when we got here, it was all triceratops, T-Rexes, and these characters, and then a bunch
of different little beasties I didn’t recognize.”
“They are marvellous creatures, aren’t they?” I said. One of the larger stegosaurii snorted on cue as it tore off a bunch of low-hanging greenery and chewed it, rather like an enormous cow.
“They’re dumb as shit,” Liam laughed, “And smell about as bad—be thankful for that gas mask of yours. But they’re ultimately harmless…to us. Damn if it isn’t fun to see them fuck up a T-Rex proper, though.”
Alyson’s buggy pulled up alongside ours. “Well Templeton, you’re in luck,” her businesslike voice chimed in over the headset. “Looks like you might get to see a real spectacle today. Jayden, the drones!” She commanded. Immediately, two holograms launched from her buggy, and two more followed shortly thereafter from our vehicle.
“Drones…?” I half-asked.
“They’re meant to get the attention of the big beasties,” Alyson said. “Not that it should be much of a problem with these stegos here, but—”
Suddenly, a shudder. Then another. This wasn’t Spielberg’s ominous, approaching thunderstorm, but rather the fastest cyclone that the world had ever seen, each “CLAP” closer and louder than I thought possible in nature.
“Lock and load!” Alyson yelled. Liam made a tight turn as the buggy’s treads tore through the soft, thin layer of soil and threw up a cloud of debris. When the dust settled, I was able to make out what appeared to be a small bird on the horizon, its brightly colored feathers swirled into a tornado of colour not unlike that of the wormhole, though much smaller and more focused.
Each successive “BOOM” brought the form closer, like a thousand howitzers firing in rapid succession. As it gained on our position, the only thing that I could think was T-Rex had feathers?
As if he read my mind, Liam came over the intercom, “It’s a nice surprise we like to try to keep. Now get your fuckin’ rifle ready to go!”
