The Gordian Protocol

by David Weber

  “I know how shocking all this must be.” Raibert gestured around them with one arm. “But could you please give me a chance to fill you in?”

  Benjamin sat up, put his back against the wall for more leverage, and pressed in from both sides.

  “Or I can just wait until you finish,” Raibert said with a grimace.

  The big man’s outer flesh gave, but underneath Benjamin encountered something far more solid and not where bones should be. Visions of Raibert’s broken arm flashed through his addled mind, and he remembered oily lubricant and bands that might have been artificial muscles dangling from the end.

  He slowly let go of the man’s throat and looked him over. Yes, there was the missing arm, except he’d capped the end with a dark cast.

  “There, that’s better,” Raibert said. “Try taking some deep breaths. Maybe that’ll help calm you down.”

  “You’re not human, are you?”

  “Kid, that is such a twenty-first-century thing to say.” He placed his only hand across his chest. “I’ll admit I’m a little offended.”

  “What are you?” Benjamin asked, letting his legs hang off the side of the bed.

  “Exactly what I said. I’m Raibert Kaminski, at your service.” He stepped back and bowed theatrically. “Professor of history, specializing in ancient Greek and Roman cultures, with a minor in chronometric physics for the aforementioned time travelling. And also, due to an unfortunate—ahem—misunderstanding, currently the inhabitant of one stolen synthetic body.”

  “So you’re a thief, too?”

  “In all fairness, the people we stole it from turned my old body into fertilizer.”

  “We?” Benjamin noted. “There are more of you?”

  “Yes, though you can’t see him. His name is Philosophus, and he’s my abstract companion. You’d call him an artificial intelligence, though again, that’s a really dated way to put it.” He paused as if listening, sighed, and rolled his eyes. “And yes, I guess there’s the ship too. The Kleio is run by a nonsentient attendant program. Care to meet them?”

  “Do I really have a choice?”

  “Well, given that we’re passing 2026 right now, I’d say it’d be best if you did. We’re running away from the twentieth century for now. Figured it’d be safer to put some distance between us and Shigeki’s goons until we have a better idea what to do.”

  “Look, that’s all very interesting.” Benjamin rubbed eyes that threatened to tear up as his memories became increasingly clear. “But can I see Ella? I just…I just want to see her.”

  “Of course you can. Sorry, I got a little distracted. I meant to show her to you as soon as you came to. She’s right over here.”

  Raibert backed away and gestured to one of two glass caskets in the room, both with machinery and thick piping running up from the floor into their raised bases.

  Benjamin swallowed and stood. He crept up to the casket and gazed inside to find a flurry of activity around Elzbietá’s body. Her clothes had been removed, her skin cleaned, and dozens of tiny arms zipped in and out of her wounds.

  “What are you doing to her?” Benjamin demanded, turning to Raibert.

  “Repairing all her wounds.” He knocked on the equipment and smiled. “She should be up and about in, oh, six hours I’d say. Give or take a little.”

  “You mean she’ll…” Benjamin looked back down at her, and now that he really looked, he could see her chest rising and falling, and the color had returned to her skin. The injuries still looked horrible, but there, just on the edge, he could see the gunshot wound to her stomach contracting. He drew a deep, shuddering breath and wiped under his eyes. Could it be true? Would she really be all right?

  “Don’t worry, Doc. Your fiancée is going to be fine. Kleio didn’t detect any signs of brain damage, so all her injuries are fixable. In fact, we may have a little surprise for you along those lines.”

  “Don’t mess with me. I’m not in the mood and I don’t like surprises.”

  “Just bear with me on this one. Trust me, you’ll like it.” Raibert leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. Or at least tried to. The gesture didn’t quite work with half an arm gone, and he frowned at his own missing appendage.

  “So this stuff is really from the future?” Benjamin brushed his fingers across the casket’s glass.

  “The True Present, actually. Technically, you’re the one from the past.”

  “If you say so. The important part is this thing will save her life.”

  “Yup. Nothing to it, really.”

  “All right.” Benjamin nodded and faced the big man. “It seems I’m stuck on your ship with nowhere to go. Now what?”

  “First things first.”

  Two misshapen beads and a pair of glasses made from a hideous swirl of purple and pink descended from the ceiling on gossamer strands until they came level with Benjamin’s head.

  “What’s this?” he asked.

  “The ship’s infosystem is designed to interface with thirtieth century wetware, which you don’t have. I had Kleio print out some kiddie glasses and earbuds for you.”

  Benjamin plucked the glasses from the tiny threads they hung by.

  “You expect me to wear this abomination?” he asked.

  “Sorry, but that was the most conservative design in the library. Go on. Try them out. You’ll see and hear the difference.”

  Benjamin grimaced as he put them on, and the sterile room burst alive with color and information. He swung his view about to find displays around his body, around Raibert’s damaged arm, and a flood of information over Elzbietá’s casket.

  “Wow.”

  “The virtual displays are being autotranslated for you, so you’re welcome.”

  He shifted his view and took in how alive and even beautiful the ship’s interior had become.

  “It would be easier to use spray on lenses and earbuds, but I’m guessing you’re probably not comfortable with tiny robots building the lenses right on your eyes.”

  “People actually do that?”

  “I did it for years before I got my implants. It’s perfectly safe, by the way.”

  “I’ll stick with the glasses for now.” Benjamin gazed out the open door. “Uh, Raibert? Someone’s idea of a Viking is staring at me.”

  “That’s just Philo. Philosophus, remember? He’s the Kleio’s abstract pilot.”

  “He’s an AI?”

  “Sure, if that’s the term you prefer.”

  “Does he know that Vikings didn’t actually have horns on their helmets?”

  Philo flashed a toothy grin and his lips flapped silently.

  “Good show, Doc. He already likes you.” Raibert patted him on the shoulder. “Put the earbuds in and you’ll be able to hear him and Kleio.”

  “Okay, then.” Benjamin snatched the two earbuds out of the air and fitted them in.

  “Welcome aboard, Doctor Schröder,” the Viking said. “We honestly wish you’d come here under better circumstances.”

  “Yeah. Better circumstances.” He glanced back at Elzbietá.

  “Now to show you where we stand.” Raibert pointed his thumb out the door. “This way.”

  He led Benjamin to a circular room with a round table at its center. Like the medical bay, this room was suffused with colorful displays, and the most prominent ones resided over the table itself.

  “Take a look.” Raibert gestured to what appeared to be a graphical representation of the ship. A representation with a lot of red. “As you can see, the Kleio is in pretty bad shape right now. Kleio, would you give us the rundown?”

  “Yes, Professor,” a soothing feminine voice replied. “The Admin’s missile attack breached my hull in three places, and I have suffered heavy surface and moderate internal damage. The port defense gun was destroyed, graviton thrusters one and two are heavily damaged, the metamaterial shroud is nonfunctional across thirty percent of the surface, two nodes on the chronometric array are damaged and require realignment, the shell aro
und the hot singularity is cracked, though I have contained the radiation leak, and one of four heat exchangers has been destroyed. Please note that the prog-steel armor is compromised and will provide only minimal protection until I can reinforce it.”

  “That doesn’t sound good,” Benjamin said.

  “It’s not,” Raibert agreed. “We just got our butts kicked by a single chronoport, and there are twelve of them out there hunting us.”

  “Fortunately,” Kleio added, “the Admin failed to damage my impeller, and all printers are still operational. My ability to remedy the damage remains unhindered, and my internal stock of raw materials is sufficient for the tasks at hand.”

  “The Admin?” Benjamin asked.

  “They’re the jerks who are after me,” Raibert said.

  “The same ones who shot Ella?”

  “The same.”

  “And why, might I ask, are they after you?”

  “Well, just the small detail that if I fix the timeline and save the universe, their version of the thirtieth century, which I might add shouldn’t be there in the first place, goes away. So, yeah. They have a pretty good motive to come after me.”

  “Why do I get the feeling there’s something you’re not telling me?”

  “Ha!” Raibert exclaimed. “Trust me, there’s a ton of stuff I’m not telling you, but that’s just because I can only talk so fast. Besides, I figured we’d wait until the love of your life wakes up so I don’t have to keep repeating myself.”

  “Okay. I guess that’ll do for now,” Benjamin admitted.

  “Hey, Kleio?”

  “Yes, Professor?”

  “What about my arm? You forgot to mention my arm.”

  “I have not forgotten your arm, Professor. It is merely a lower priority than the other damage I mentioned. I have an appropriate pattern queued for the printers, and the microbot cast is busy expanding and prepping the outer layer. It should match the performance of your original arm very closely.”

  “I would certainly hope so.”

  “I am doing my best with the resources available to me, Professor.”

  “Wait a second,” Benjamin said suddenly. “If your ship is this banged up, and it was right over the restaurant when the Admin attacked. What happened to everyone else?”

  “Given what hit us…” Raibert pulled up a virtual chart. “Yep. That would be a really big crater.”

  Benjamin narrowed his eyes at Raibert.

  “Don’t give me that look. It wasn’t me who fired those missiles.”

  “But you were the target.”

  “Okay, granted, that much is true. But look at it this way. They didn’t hit us with nukes or antimatter or heavy stuff like that, so your town is still ninety-nine percent there.”

  “It should all still be there.”

  “Look, I’m sorry if I sound callous, Doc, but in case you forgot, the universe explodes if we don’t fix this problem. There’s just a teeny tiny bit of pressure on me right now.”

  “Get one thing straight, Raibert. I’m glad you’re healing her wounds, but I never said I’d help you change the past.”

  “Uh!” Raibert slouched over the table. “Fine! How about we put this discussion on hold until Elzeba wakes up? Maybe you’ll be more reasonable then.”

  “Elzbietá,” Benjamin corrected.

  “Whatever. Philo?”

  “Yes?” The Viking appeared at his side.

  “Make sure our guest doesn’t do anything stupid. I’ll be in my room. It’s been a day.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Raibert left the bridge without another word, and Benjamin walked up to the image of the Viking, who then flashed a toothy, if uncertain, grin at him.

  “So you’re an AI.”

  “Yes, though we prefer to be called abstract citizens.”

  “Fully self-aware?”

  “As much as you are.”

  “And what do you think of all of this?”

  “Well, Doctor Schröder,” the Viking began as he took on a look of great contemplation. “If you’d like my advice, I suggest you look on the bright side of this situation. You may be on a busted up time machine heading into a future you know nothing about with a guy you don’t trust, but at least you know you’re not going crazy. That’s got to count for something, don’t you think?”

  “You’re one of those glass-half-full people, aren’t you?”

  “At this point, Doctor, it’s basically a requirement for people on this ship.”

  *

  The recovery casket opened, and Benjamin draped a white gown over Elzbietá as she stirred and stretched.

  “Hey,” he whispered.

  Elzbietá licked her lips and held a hand over her face.

  “What…” she murmured. “Where am I?”

  “Take it slow.”

  She blinked and her eyes adjusted to the light. Both of them.

  “What’s going on?” She closed one eye, then the other, then alternated back and forth rapidly.

  “Uh, Raibert?” Benjamin asked.

  “Yeah?”

  “She has two eyes.”

  “So do most people. So what?”

  “So what? She only had one eye when she went in. How does she have two eyes now?”

  “Uh, hello?” Raibert put his only hand over his chest. “Time traveler from the thirtieth century standing right behind you. This was the surprise, Doc. Besides, would it be too much to ask for a little gratitude around here?”

  Benjamin caressed her cheek with the tips of his fingers. All signs of reconstructive surgery had vanished, and he couldn’t help but marvel at the radiant beauty those scars had obscured. Her skin was warm and soft to his touch, and he smiled down at her.

  “Hey, beautiful.”

  “I can feel that,” she said and raised her right hand to touch her own face. “I can feel that! The dead spots are gone!”

  “I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered back and ran the backs of his fingers down her cheek.

  “Yeah, what happened? I remember the window shattering, and noise and screaming, and then…a cold, dark place.” She sat up, and Benjamin adjusted the gown over her. “Wait, what?” She looked down and stared at her left hand splayed on the recovery casket.

  “Yep, that’s fixed, too,” Raibert said.

  She raised her left hand unsteadily, held it open before her eyes, then slowly opened and closed it.

  “You’re welcome, by the way.”

  “How is this possible?” She looked up at Benjamin and Raibert.

  “Allow me to officially welcome you to the Transtemporal Vehicle Kleio,” Raibert said.

  “You mean you were telling us the truth?”

  “The correct thing to say at a time like this is ‘thank you for saving my life,’ but at this point I’ll settle for both of you not trying, in your own cute little ways, to kill me.”

  “Thank you,” she muttered halfheartedly, and sat up a little straighter, slipping her arms into the gown when Benjamin held it out to her.

  “Well, that didn’t sound genuine at all,” Raibert groused.

  “What is all of this stuff?” She looked around.

  “What stuff?” Benjamin asked.

  “These glowing things.” Elzbietá snatched at the air as if she were trying to catch an unseen butterfly. Then she did it again at another spot. “What are they?”

  “What things?” Benjamin asked. “What are you talking about?”

  “There are shapes and symbols all around me. Don’t you see them?”

  She grabbed an unseen object in front of her and pulled it close.

  “Raibert, what is she doing?” Benjamin asked urgently. “Is she okay?”

  “Huh.”

  “What is ‘huh’ supposed to mean, damn it?”

  “Just that I didn’t expect this.”

  Elzbietá stared at an invisible object in the palm of her hand, then turned it as if scrutinizing the object from multiple angles.

  “I
t’s got numbers and letters and diagrams, but I can’t make sense of it.” She extended empty hands toward Benjamin. “Don’t you see it?”

  “Raibert, what’s going on? What’s wrong with her?”

  “Oh, calm down. Nothing’s wrong with her. Far from it, in fact.”

  “But she’s seeing things, and that can’t be good.”

  “Quit worrying and put your glasses back on.”

  “What? Oh.” Benjamin reached into his pocket and unfolded the interface glasses. He didn’t put them fully on, but instead held them in front of his face and peered through their lenses. He immediately saw a medical diagram from the recovery casket in Elzbietá’s hands. “You can see that stuff?”

  “Yeah. Can’t you?”

  “Put your earbuds back in, Doc. I think we both want to hear this explanation.”

  “Sure.” Benjamin did as requested.

  “Hey, Kleio!”

  “Yes, Professor.”

  “Can you explain why the patient has SysGov wetware now?”

  “I merely followed your instructions to fix everything, Professor.”

  “Don’t give me that crap. I never told you to give her wetware.”

  “If you will recall, I did attempt to clarify the situation, but you were adamant that I fix all injuries to the patient. Since Elzbietá’s wetware appeared to be defunct, I replaced it with a fresh implanting.”

  Raibert smacked his face.

  “Who’s talking?” Elzbietá asked, looking around. “I can’t tell where the sound is coming from. It’s like the voice is in my head.”

  “That’s because it is.” Raibert shrugged his one and a half arms. “Oh well. Looks like you’re wetwared up to thirtieth-century standards now. Bonus surprise, I guess.”

  “Is that dangerous?” Benjamin asked.

  “Not in the least. All physical adults have them from where I come from. I suppose we could take them out, but they’re not meant to be removable. We’re talking invasive neural surgery.”

  “In that case, no,” Benjamin stated firmly.

  “Hey, Kleio? Patch her wetware with the same autotranslation Doc is using.”

  “Yes, Professor.”

  “Whoa!” Elzbietá jerked back. “Everything just changed and…and now I can read these displays!”

  “Still waiting for a sincere thank you over here.”