TimeSlip

by Caroline McCall

  “Are you out of your tiny mind, Jake? Have you forgotten who her brother is? How do you know she’s not a spy, for god’s sake?”

  “I don’t believe that she is and I’m worried about what Raoul will do to her when he gets here. I want to move her onto the ship.”

  “Onto the ship?” Strom’s chair rocked beneath him. “You want to move the sister of a Cyraelian terrorist onto my ship?”

  “I don’t see why not. You would do it for Ingrid.”

  “Don’t you dare bring Ingrid into this.”

  How could he? How could Jake mention her name to him? Didn’t he know that he couldn’t seem to forget her, that every night his dreams were filled with her? He hadn’t looked at another woman since he’d left Ingrid, and the thought that she might be with someone else now made him ache.

  “The situation with Ingrid was impossible, Jake.”

  Strom’s face was impassive, but Jake wasn’t fooled for an instant. “Nothing is impossible. How many times have you told me that? Have you been happy for a single day since you left her? Well, I have no intention of ending up miserable like you.”

  The door swished closed behind him and Strom was left alone in the briefing room. He watched through the porthole as a shuttle craft departed for the planet below. Light-years away on the other side of the galaxy, Ingrid was going about her daily life. She couldn’t still love him. Could she?

  Winter 2527

  Jake swayed with the drunken gait of someone who had one too many Cyraelian ales. The streets were dark and slick with rain, and in the white dress suit he was lit up brighter than Sirius. Strom followed behind, creeping quietly along the alley, staying in the shadows. They had almost reached the spaceport. If the Cyraelians were going to make a move on Jake, it would have to be soon.

  Pete, he commed, can you see anyone?

  I count two on his tail, Boss, Pete replied. Want me to pick them off?

  Not yet. Any sign of you know who?

  Negative here. Hold on a minute, Pete commed back. I think we’ve got a third, but I can’t see his face.

  Strom took the safety off his weapon. There was no way that Raoul would send someone to kill the man who had behaved so disgracefully with his sister. He would want to do that himself. Take care of the others, he commed. I’ll deal with Raoul.

  Within seconds, the dark alleyway was lit up with laser fire. Pete winged one of them and watched as the injured man dragged himself behind a parked hover-pod. Jake was the prime target, and in the white dress uniform he was dangerously visible.

  “Stay down, Jake,” he shouted.

  Strom took careful aim and took the second one out, vaporizing him. “Guys,” he shouted. “Where is Raoul?”

  “I’m right behind you.”

  Strom turned slowly. Raoul waved his weapon, motioning him to walk to the middle of the street.

  “Drop your weapon and tell the others to do the same.”

  Guys, he commed silently, no matter what happens, don’t even think about it.

  Jake, Pete commed. I can’t get a shot from this angle.

  Jake eased out of his white jacket. Okay. Let’s see if I can distract him.

  “Why are you bothering with him, Raoul,” he shouted. “He’s not the one who’s fucking your sister.”

  Raoul’s face twisted with anger. He motioned to Strom. “Tell him to shut up.”

  Strom’s fists clenched as he looked at the man in front of him. After all the months of hunting, Raoul was finally within his grasp. He eyed the distance between them, wondering if he could tackle and disarm him. The chances weren’t good. Raoul had the advantage of darkness and he could probably get two shots off before he reached him.

  He didn’t plan on dying yet, and certainly not by Raoul’s hand. Besides, they owed him for what he had done to Ingrid and the countless others that Raoul had maimed and killed. He would take great pleasure in tearing him apart.

  In the distance he could hear the sound of sirens as Cyraelian law enforcement officials raced toward the scene. They would be here within minutes. He had to end before they arrived. He couldn’t take the chance that Raoul would get away again.

  Jake, he commed silently, he’s too far away for me to jump him. We need to lure Raoul out of there before law enforcement arrives.

  Okay, Jake commed. I’ll see what I can do.

  “You know, Raoul, Cyraelian girls really know how to please a guy,” Jake shouted mockingly. “I tell you. Raoul, I’ve had women from all over the galaxy and your sister is the sweetest little—”

  Raoul turned and fired in the direction of Jake’s voice. It was distraction enough for Strom. Crossing the distance between then, he aimed a savage kick at Raoul, lifting him off the ground and sending him crashing across the street into the side of a hover-pod. Jake rose to his feet and moved steadily toward Raoul’s inert body. Strom’s kick had stunned him, but he was far from dead. Raoul’s eyes blazed with hatred as his right hand fastened on his weapon and he fired, missing Jake by inches. Raoul pointed his weapon again.

  “Looks like the pleasure is mine, Raoul. This is for Ingrid.” Jake took aim and fired.

  “No.” A plaintive scream came from up the street.

  “Tanith?”

  A slender figure ran down the street. She flung herself at Jake, beating her fists against his face and his chest. “I heard gunfire. I was so worried about you when you left the reception early. You used me, you bastard. All this time, you pretended to love me so that you could kill my brother.”

  Jake reached for her. “Tanith, please, listen to me. It wasn’t like that.”

  Her eyes blazed with hurt and anger. “Don’t touch me, Jake. Don’t you ever touch me again.”

  Spring 2528

  Strom completed his daily entry in the ship’s log. The last of the provisions for the return voyage were being stowed, and the crew was completing preparations for departure. In a few hours time, they would be setting course for Earth. Jake had been released from Cyraelian custody this morning and he should have been back on board by now. He was within an hour of being declared AWOL. More ominously, Pete was also missing.

  Tanith Jasson had sworn a complaint against Jake after he killed Raoul, and then the diplomatic shit had really hit the fan. Although he was a terrorist, Raoul’s followers had rallied around Tanith, demanding an inquiry, and Jake had been held in solitary in a Cyraelian prison, while Strom endeavored to sort out a mess of intergalactic proportions.

  The door opened and Jake entered. He was thinner and his usual tanned complexion was pale. “Good to have you back on board, Jake.”

  “I’d like to make a complaint, Sir.”

  If Jake was calling him sir, trouble was coming. Strom sat upright in his chair. “Ship’s Com, please record these proceedings.”

  “Affirmative, Captain.”

  “What is the nature of your complaint, Lieutenant Svenson?” he asked formally.

  “I wish to report an assault on a Fleet Command Officer by a Cyraelian civilian, Sir.”

  Strom shook his head. Jake couldn’t be serious, he wanted to charge Tanith with assault?

  “I believe I have the right under Star Code 9706.23 to have the civilian brought to trial before a panel of three officers, of no lower than the rank of Captain.”

  Strom was mystified. “I’ll have to check that one out. But even so, Lieutenant, I’m the highest ranking officer in this quadrant and the only Captain.”

  “You can’t adjudicate, Sir.” Jake mouth curved at the edges as he tried to suppress a grin. “You’re a witness to the assault, Sir.”

  “Lieutenant Svenson,” Strom said impatiently. ““Let me get this right. You expect me to take a Cyraelian civilian into custody so that she can stand trial before a military court back on Earth?”

  Jake was grinning broadly now. “Yes, Sir.”

  The doors swished open and Pete entered. “The prisoner is in the brig, sir, and if I might add, sir, she bit me twice, sir.” He rubbed his l
eft hand. “I’ve never encountered such a little hellcat.”

  If Pete was calling him sir, Strom knew that he was in trouble. “Pete, please don’t tell me you want her charged with assault as well? Ship’s Com, cease recording.”

  Strom looked from one to the other, the devious pair of bastards. “Jake, this is impossible. I insist that you drop these charges.”

  “I plan on doing just that, Sir, the minute I get back her to Earth.”

  “And what are you going to do with Tanith in the meantime?”

  Jake winked at him. “I’m going to tame her.”

  Chapter Eight

  Autumn 2014

  “Adam, put your toys away. We have to go now.”

  “Mommy, can I bring just one?” Adam reached for his favorite toy, a small yellow rocket that Finn had bought for him the previous Christmas.

  “Only if you promise not to lose it, and please, Adam, promise me that you’ll be good for Mrs. Ryan. Mommy will be back in a few hours.”

  Adam stared stubbornly at her and Ingrid sighed. There was no point in asking him to leave the rocket at home. He barely went to bed without it.

  Ingrid’s palms were sweating as the taxi pulled up outside the bookstore. The poster in the window announced a book launch and she, Ingrid Sorrenson, was going to sit down inside and sign copies of her book. Well, it was a very small bookstore belonging to a friend and she would be lucky if she got to sign a dozen copies. But none of that mattered. The book had finally been published and one of those copies was going to end up on a bookshelf of a certain space captain from the future.

  She had agonized about the dedication, wavering between warm and friendly to soppy and sentimental. In the end, she kept it simple—For my viking, from your family. Although the back cover had a formal photograph of her looking serious and academic, she persuaded the publisher to include a small photograph of her and Adam on the inside the back cover.

  “How is the famous author?” Finn swooped in for a kiss and presented her with a bouquet of flowers. He was accompanied as usual by Chris Myles, star of his latest stage production. Those two had been getting cozy lately and Ingrid made a mental note to grill Finn about him later.

  “Nervous as hell,” she admitted. “What if this doesn’t work?”

  “Don’t sweat it, Ingrid. When the big guy finds out about Adam, he’ll probably park his spaceship in Merrion Square. Wouldn’t that be a hoot?”

  By the end of the evening, she had signed almost one-hundred copies, mostly for actor friends of Finn and colleagues from her old job at the museum. One hundred little messages to the one she loved, and she needed only one response. She went home on a high.

  Ingrid didn’t know what to expect when she woke the following morning. Everything looked the same. She could hear the TV blaring in sitting room. Adam must be up already, probably munching his way through a bowl of dry cereal while he watched cartoons. In her dreams, Strom had magically appeared, swept her off her feet and whisked her and Adam back to the future. But nothing happened, and a week later she was still waiting. She had to accept that it hadn’t worked.

  * * * * *

  As each week passed, her hopes faded. He wasn’t coming. She had done her best, but Strom would never know about his son. She cried each night after Adam went to sleep, and in some ways, it was worse than before. At least she had hope then, but now she had none. She missed Finn. He seemed to be avoiding her lately, spending hours at the theater. Some weeks she barely saw him at all. It was time to stop moping about the viking and get back to normal. She rang Finn’s number at the theater and left a message, promising to cook his favorite dinner.

  Finn was wearing a new blue shirt, his red hair was neatly trimmed and she caught a faint hint of his favorite aftershave. If she didn’t know any better, she might have thought that he had a date. She picked up the plates and started to tidy up.

  “Please, Ingrid, leave that. We need to talk.”

  “Okay.” She sat down again. “Look Finn, I’m sorry about the way I’ve been lately, I’ll try not to mope about him—”

  “Ingrid, it’s not about you, it’s about me. I don’t know how to say this, but Chris has been offered the lead in Phantom at the Venetian in Las Vegas. It’s a big opportunity. Ingrid, I…” Finn reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry, Ingrid.”

  She had been so wrapped up in her own romance that she had missed another one taking place right under her nose. Finn looked pleadingly at her, begging her to understand that he wasn’t going to be around for much longer.

  “You want to go with him? Oh my god, Finn, is he, you know, the one?”

  When his eyes lit up, she knew for certain. Finn was her best friend, the one who had stayed with her through the worst time of her life, putting his own life on hold for her.

  “I think so, Ingrid, but I’ve been afraid to say anything because of—”

  “Finn O’Leary, what did we vow on our wedding day? And I don’t mean that love, honor and obey crap.”

  Finn took her hand and rubbed his thumb gently against her wedding ring. “That we would stay together until we met the one.”

  Relief washed over his face and he hugged her tightly against him. “You know that I’ll always love you, Sorrenson. Maybe you’ll meet someone else. Not like the big guy, but different.”

  Ingrid blinked away the tears that were threatening to spill from her eyes. “Oh Finn, I couldn’t cope with a little love. I’ve already had the big, messy, heartbreaking kind. It ruins you for anything else. Now get out of here or Chris will be frantic.”

  After he left, she tidied up and then tiptoed into the bedroom and lay down beside Adam. The nursery ceiling was decorated with stick-on stars, and every surface of the walls was covered in posters about space and aliens. Like father, like son, she thought. Adam was sound asleep. His little chest rose and fell steadily. Ingrid stroked his blond curls.

  “Well, Adam, it looks as if we’re on our own.”

  Spring 2529

  Strom opened the door of his latest bachelor quarters with a reluctant sigh. Déjà dump. His personal stuff had arrived from central storage and the box sat on a cheap rug in the middle of the floor. He hadn’t unpacked it in over two years. He bounced experimentally on the edge of the narrow bunk. It was lumpy, so what else was new?

  “Well, it looks like it’s you and me, box, how about a date?”

  Taking a laser-knife, he cut the tape and started to unpack. One bottle of scotch three quarters full. Strom smiled and grabbed a glass and poured a generous measure. Next out of the box were some trophies from Fleet Academy. He didn’t know why he kept them. There was nothing more depressing to a man than a reminder of his past glories.

  An image projector, now that should cheer the place up a bit. Strom switched it on and watched the images play across the wall. His hand touched a paper cover. Damn and blast, it was Ingrid’s book. He had forgotten to return it to the library at the cultural history museum.

  “Shit, I wonder what the fine will be on that one.”

  The solitary chair in the room looked like something from a retirement colony, so he sat on the floor and crossed his legs. Ingrid. No matter how far he traveled or who he met, he was never going to love anyone else. Strom’s fingers traced the letters of her name and he opened the first page and read the dedication, For my viking, from your family.

  His heart did a flip in his chest. Surely he would have remembered something like that? Strom flicked through the pages swiftly until he reached the end, and there it was on the inside cover, a photograph of Ingrid Sorrenson-O’Leary, and her son Adam. He took a deep gulp of scotch.

  Jealousy ran through Strom’s veins like acid. None of this made any sense. How could she have married Finn? He looked at the little boy in the photograph. A boy with white-blond hair and dark eyes. Oh dear god. Ingrid was the cleverest woman he had ever met. She had found a way to send him a message across time, a very personal message. He had a son. Strom’s h
and trembled and he dropped the glass, spilling scotch all over the synthetic rug. His mind raced. Someone at the Department of Temporal Security must have known about this.

  “Central Com, locate General Leona Hallstrom. I need to speak to her immediately.”

  When Leona refused all of his calls, Strom made his way to the Department of Temporal Security. They didn’t want to know him either. He paced the lobby floor for two hours until they started to close the building. There was nothing for it, he would have to do the unthinkable and contact his dad.

  Strom pressed the door-com nervously. Leona had been married to his dad for almost a decade, but he had never been to their home.

  “Son.” Hal Hallstrom stepped back in shock as Strom pushed his way inside.

  “Where is she?” Strom demanded.

  Leona emerged from the kitchen, and from the aroma that wafted around the room, she was cooking. Strom had seldom seen her out of uniform and never in a million years had he imagined her as a housewife.

  “Son, would you like to tell me what’s going on?”

  “Why don’t you ask your wife? I’m sure she has quite a lot to tell you.”

  Leona glared frostily him. “Strom, please don’t do this. I received your messages and I know that you’re upset. Perhaps we can talk tomorrow, when you’ve calmed down.”

  He couldn’t believe it. The cold-hearted bitch was trying to play hardball with him. Strom barely restrained himself from punching a hole in the wall.

  Hal rounded on him. “What’s wrong with you, son, coming here like this?”

  It was obvious that his dad knew nothing, and in some way that made him feel better. At least he wasn’t involved. Strom opened the book and thrust the photograph in his father’s face. “Why don’t you ask her to tell you about your grandson?”

  His dad’s face blanched when he looked at the photograph. “Leona, do you want to tell me about this?”

  Leona shook her head. “I’m sorry, Hal, I’m afraid it’s classified.”

  “Classified, my… This is my grandson, Leona, and you better tell me everything you know.”