Time Salvager, page 27
“There’s one more thing,” Elise said. “I need more help.”
“I already told you I will have Smitt—”
“I mean I need more people to help me. It’s too much work to do by myself.”
“What about Rima?”
“Someone with more than a second-grade education, James!”
He shook his head. “I won’t be able to help you. Everyone with any modicum of scientific training in the present is indentured to the corporations already. It’s unlikely I can recruit someone, short of kidnapping them. People with scientific minds are valuable in the present. Right now, we’re just a loose end they have to tie. If we cross that line and steal resources, the corporations will rain hell down on us.”
Elise thought about her alternatives. “Can you go back to the Nutris Platform then? Get some of the other scientists?”
James shook his head. “No one will ever be able to jump into that chronological location again within approximately sixteen hundred kilometers and nine days from the point of the tear. Other planets and celestial bodies will have different limiting parameters.”
“James, I don’t care who, how, when, or what you find,” she grumbled. “Just get me someone. I might be able to make do with some of the tools I have, but I need brain power to cure this plague. That’s even more important than the tools. Hey, are you listening to me?”
He had stopped and was staring up at the sky. He had a strange look on his face. “Yes. I was just thinking. Actually, I might know just the person. Let me see if it’s possible.”
THIRTY-THREE
NOT QUITE END TIMES
Grace Priestly took a few steps back and studied the canvas from the opposite end of her quarters. The tints were off—the whites a bit too dull, the hues in the sky a bit too plain—but then, she hadn’t packed that many colors. Maybe it was just because her childhood memories of home were much more vibrant, or maybe it was that her old mind finally was failing her.
Grace tsked. Of course not; her mind was just as sharp and her memory just as clear as the day she had last been on Earth nearly a century ago. Just because she was about to die didn’t mean she was dying. She walked to the other corner of the room and looked at the painting from the side.
The fading sun reflecting off the snow was perfect, though perhaps a shade too dark. It was an adequate reflection of home. Certainly nothing she would ever show to another soul—something she wouldn’t have any concerns with shortly—but definitely a piece of work she was proud of, considering the circumstances.
Grace looked out the window. The spinning stars had settled and were now just streaming by at a leisurely pace. The good Captain Monk, as narrow-minded and unimaginative as he was, had done a very good job righting the High Marker. She didn’t think he had it in him. Too bad all that work to stabilize the ship from its out-of-control trajectory toward the heliosphere was a waste of time.
According to the last report, energy reserves were down to 2 percent. The engineers were still baffled with the question of where all the rest of the fusion power went. Over 90 percent of a Titan-class starship’s levels doesn’t just vanish into thin air. That was enough power to keep Eris lit up for two years.
Grace knew the truth, though, and it was much more fantastic and logical than anyone else in this time could guess. She thought back to the meeting with the time traveler, her own personal Grim Reaper who signaled her impending demise. It was a slight comfort that the foundation she had laid down for this time-travel agency still existed. At least something of her creation would survive, something she had not expected of the Technology Isolationists. The war had gone badly …
The ship was rocked by a thundering explosion, and the blast shields protecting the interior of the ship slammed down. That’s twice this had happened in less than an hour. This time, though, something was different. Not only did the blast shields stay closed, she could hear additional sounds of other barriers coming down outside her room. The entire ship must be going into a full lockdown as the High Marker isolated her structural components. That could only mean a hull integrity breach.
Grace pulled up the bridge through her command console. “Report, Monk.”
Monk’s haggard face appeared as he yelled off-screen. The floating comm eye must have caught him at a bad time. It followed him as he ran across the bridge and scanned an array of flashing red lights on one of the side stations.
“Focus on that console,” she ordered.
The comm eye flew up just behind the good captain’s head and zoomed in on what half a dozen of the bridge officers were staring at as well. Grace clicked her tongue; what a waste of manpower. The ship had struck something, and the object, instead of being destroyed on impact, was hard enough to punch a hole straight through the exterior plating of the second level of section three. What was strange was that, according to the console, it had also penetrated the blast shields that had dropped down to cordon off that section as well as the hallway blast shields. Whatever this thing was had destroyed three layers of shielding. Four; the section blast shields had also just gone down. Grace’s eyes widened. The object made a right turn …
“Oh my,” Grace murmured. “So many interesting things. What a terrible time to die.”
Could it be? Hours before they were all going to die, had they actually discovered alien life? After five hundred years in space, did humanity just receive their answer about life outside this system? And was the damn thing actually rampaging through the corridors of the ship? She watched as the object or creature continued down different paths, turning left at another intersection, cutting through a common room, and then backtracking the way it had come.
“It knows how to use the lift,” she muttered as her eyes trailed the blinking red dot moving throughout the ship. “Interesting.” Monk yelled out orders and waved his hands wildly, almost knocking the comm eye out of the air.
“Pan to the captain,” she ordered.
The good captain’s face had gone sheet white, as had the faces of almost all of the bridge crew. Monk barked several more commands off-screen and then focused back on the screen. A few seconds later, a dozen green dots blinked to life on the screen and swarmed toward the red dot.
“Get a security eye in there,” he said.
Four additional screens floated in the air above his head, each showing a real-time feed of the security eyes zooming down corridors toward the red dot. It seemed the security personnel, the green dots, got to the red dot first.
“Initial contact from Sec Team One with visual says humanoid!” an acolyte said from off-screen.
Humanoid? That was a surprise, though something that could blow through the hull of a warship and blast through impact shielding was definitely more than that.
“Sec Team One down!” the acolyte continued. “Sec Team Two engaging from the rear.”
“Back to the console,” Grace said. She caught the screen just in time to see the first splash of green dots closest to the red target blink out of existence. She saw another group of green coming up from behind it. Then they too blinked out. Still, Monk sent more security personnel after it.
“Get some Kill Mutes out of stasis!” he roared. “I want them awake and working in five minutes. And get a mech team powered up.”
Grace watched as a third group of green dots disappeared. Well, if Monk was going to use Kill Mutes and combat mechs in the tight spaces of a warship, he might as well just blow it apart now. Those killing machines weren’t made to fight in such tight quarters. They would tear the High Marker apart from the inside out, though considering what that intruder was doing, did it really matter? She was deathly curious, and deep in thought when she caught the end of one of Monk’s orders.
“… Sec Team Six to escort the High Scion out of her quarters to safety,” he was saying.
She checked the console again and realized that indeed, the red dot was moving toward her section. Fascinating. Her patience was rewarded as the first of the Security Eyes reached the corridor and recorded a visual of the intruder. She would at least get to see an alien life before she died, which was definitely worth the price of admission. Discovering alien life had always been one of her fondest wishes, unlikely as it was to be granted. The gods had an interesting way of fulfilling childhood dreams.
“Focus on the upper left,” Grace instructed. She had to squint as she stared at the screen within her screen.
She caught the tail end of a fight, where armored security soldiers were flung across the air like rag dolls. One of the bodies almost flew into the Security Eye, which managed to veer to the side at the very last second. Then, hovering close to the ceiling, it moved in toward the target. At first, all Grace could see was a dark figure, something definitely humanoid, with two legs and arms. Then she gasped.
“Captain Monk,” she said. “Monk!”
He turned toward the Security Eye. “Oh, High Scion! I was not aware you were there. Please be at ease. Everything is under control. A security team is on their way to see you to safety as we speak.”
“I see how much things are under control,” she remarked dryly. “The security team will not be necessary. Call all your forces back. Do not engage the intruder.”
“High Scion? We must! That thing is tearing the ship apart!”
“Call your forces back or I will order you shot on the spot.”
Monk hesitated. “Your will, High Scion.” He nodded to someone off-screen.
“Good, keep our people clear of him. Do not impede his path no matter what.”
“Him, High Scion? Is there something you know about this being? As the captain—”
She turned the comm off and waited. What could possibly be the explanation for this? It couldn’t be because of the ship’s fusion sources. They were already depleted. It could be the weapons systems, but why wouldn’t he have retrieved them his first time here? Besides, most of them were drained from the battle. It could only mean one thing. Grace Priestly began to pack. A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. How quaint. He punches a hole in her ship, kills over a dozen guards, yet knocks on her door.
“Come in,” she said, throwing on her travel cloak last. It was a good thing she hadn’t had much time to unpack when the High Marker was attacked. Who knew what awaited her wherever she was going.
The same time traveler she saw an hour ago walked into the room.
She stood up and greeted him as if this were an everyday occurrence. “You’re back. I must have left quite an impression.”
He nodded. “High Scion.”
Immediately, Grace noticed the changes in the time traveler. His skin was darker, red, almost as if burned, and his facial hair, which was bad enough before, was overgrown and unkempt. Disgusting.
The time traveler looked over at the easel in the corner. “Nice painting.”
“Was just passing the time by reminiscing, as one is wont to do before she dies.”
“Is that what Iceland was like back then?”
Grace smiled. “The Blue Lagoon. You know my history.”
“Everyone does, High Scion.”
“I told you to call me Grace.”
The time traveler looked down at the bag floating next to her. “Are you ready then?”
Grace’s heart filled with anticipation. Traveling through time had also been a childhood dream. It was what led her to study the field and enter the sciences. And while the uncertain future was something she feared, it couldn’t be any worse than where she was now. Still, he wanted something from her, else he wouldn’t have come back. Grace wasn’t one to leap blindly into the unknown. If she left now on his terms, whatever leverage she had would be lost.
“Ready to leave for your time?”
He nodded. “You already know where staying on this ship leads to.”
“Why the change of heart? What about the Time Laws?”
“I am following the spirit of the Time Laws by disobeying them.”
Grace raised an eyebrow.
“High Scion,” Monk’s voice bleeped over the comm. “Are you all right? I am moving teams to your area—”
“Stay the fuck out!” she snapped. “Comm off. Door lock. My authority.” She looked at the time traveler and smiled. “Sometimes, the consequences of the unknown are worse than the terrible ones you do know. I don’t even know your name.”
The time traveler bowed. “James Griffin-Mars, High Scion.”
“Call me Grace,” she muttered, mulling over his name. She had expected something fantastic and futuristic, but his name, like his appearance, was disappointing. Still, that tidbit of information told her much about the society he came from. Latin derivative. Old Western civilization. Possibly Christian-derivative religion.
Couple that with his familiar features and his mannerisms, not to mention his language … Actually no, he was speaking her form of space-speak too fluently. Language was the most easily mutated of cultural references, therefore logically he must be masking his native tongue. He could be well trained to behave in a fashion nonthreatening to her. By space, this could all be an act. Somehow, however, she believed him, and her instincts rarely failed her. That left only one thing to clarify.
“And what would you need me for in your future?” she asked. “My mind obviously.”
James nodded. “Among other things.”
Grace smirked. “My beauty? My sharp tongue? My leadership? Out with it, boy.”
“Humanity needs your brilliance and wisdom to save it once again.”
She harrumphed. “Wisdom is something I never had plentiful amounts of. And what would I do in your time?” There was a brief hesitation in his movements, and then she knew he was hers.
“There is an environmental catastrophe in our time,” he said.
She nodded. “Of course there is. There’s one in mine too. What’s your point?”
“We have a scientist who believes she can cure the plague. She needs your help.”
It was Grace’s turn to hesitate. This plague, known as the Terravira back at home, covered half the planet, and was said to be irreversible. Now, someone in the future had a cure? Her eyes wandered to the painting in the corner of the room, and saw the landscape that was her backyard as a child. Her family had left with the rest of the Technology Isolationists shortly after her seventh birthday, but she still remembered the beauty of the ice caps, or what little was left of them by the time she left. The Terravira had advanced so quickly in the years leading up to the mass exodus … Grace shook her head. Up until now, she had always considered leaving her people her legacy, but perhaps she had a higher calling. Could it be done? Was it even possible?
“I have questions,” she said, her voice soft and breaking.
“No time.” In a blur, James covered the distance between them and was hovering close to her. “Are you with me or not?”
There was a banging on her door.
“High Scion?” a voice said outside. “Are you all right?”
“I need to know now,” James pressed.
“Why the rush?” Grace said. “We have all the … we don’t have time, do we?”
James nodded. “The ship is moving fast, hurtling through space, not subject to the time and distance delimiters of time travel.”
“That’s how you’re able to jump back here so soon. Fascinating.” Grace walked past him and grabbed the canvas and tucked it under her arm. “Carry my bag, James,” she ordered as she returned to his side. “Now I’m ready.”
“Cut the door down,” the muffled voice on the other side of the room yelled.
“Brace yourself,” James said. There was a bright yellow flash, and then Grace suddenly felt the urge to throw up her tea. Then everything went black.
When she came to, the two of them were floating in the black of space. Her carryall bag and canvas had disappeared, and looking down, her chest was wet. She had a splitting headache.
“What happened?” she groaned.
“You passed out and then threw up on yourself,” James said.
So much for looking dignified. Grace suddenly had a severe case of vertigo and felt like throwing up again. She had had just enough embarrassment for the day and willed her body to stop acting so undignified. She reminded herself who she was.
“Now what?” she asked. “Where’s your ship? Or did you discover teleportation in the future?”
“Unfortunately, no,” James said. “My ship is on its way now. It will be here in a while. Again, our conversation lasted longer than I anticipated and I miscalculated the path of the High Marker.”
“How did you know the High Marker’s location?”
“Your ship had sent constant distress calls before it was lost. I simply extrapolated its trajectory and jumped into its path.”
“Which is why you slammed into it.” She nodded. There was a long pause between the two of them. “So now what?” she asked again. Grace hated asking. She was usually the one who knew everything.
James linked his arms around her waist and pulled her in close. “We wait, and then we save the world.”
THIRTY-FOUR
MEETING OF THE MINDS
The tension in the air became thick as soup the moment James and Grace Priestly stepped out of the collie. This was the longest he had been away from Elise since she had come to the present and she had come down to the garage to meet him. Her eyes widened when she caught sight of the Mother of Time draped on his arm.
At first, she was friendly to the beautiful and exotic but significantly older woman hanging onto him. She offered Grace a hand and smiled. “Welcome to the Elfreth. Thank you for joining us. I’m—”
Grace must have sensed something between James and Elise, and decided to assert her dominance, or just screw with him. “What a precious child,” she exclaimed to James, touching his shoulder in a more than friendly manner. “You didn’t tell me you had a daughter.”
Elise looked like someone had thrown cold water on her as she shot an incredulous look at Grace, and then a ferocious one at James.
He sighed, and of course Grace decided that this was the opportune time to further flame the situation in. She leaned in toward him and gave him a peck on the cheek, cooing softly. “Pet, I’ve stepped onto your world for about fourteen seconds and you’re already in trouble. I don’t think this time period can handle me. Your woman, at least, certainly can’t. She doesn’t seem very glad to see you. No matter, it’s time she learns who is in charge.”
“I already told you I will have Smitt—”
“I mean I need more people to help me. It’s too much work to do by myself.”
“What about Rima?”
“Someone with more than a second-grade education, James!”
He shook his head. “I won’t be able to help you. Everyone with any modicum of scientific training in the present is indentured to the corporations already. It’s unlikely I can recruit someone, short of kidnapping them. People with scientific minds are valuable in the present. Right now, we’re just a loose end they have to tie. If we cross that line and steal resources, the corporations will rain hell down on us.”
Elise thought about her alternatives. “Can you go back to the Nutris Platform then? Get some of the other scientists?”
James shook his head. “No one will ever be able to jump into that chronological location again within approximately sixteen hundred kilometers and nine days from the point of the tear. Other planets and celestial bodies will have different limiting parameters.”
“James, I don’t care who, how, when, or what you find,” she grumbled. “Just get me someone. I might be able to make do with some of the tools I have, but I need brain power to cure this plague. That’s even more important than the tools. Hey, are you listening to me?”
He had stopped and was staring up at the sky. He had a strange look on his face. “Yes. I was just thinking. Actually, I might know just the person. Let me see if it’s possible.”
THIRTY-THREE
NOT QUITE END TIMES
Grace Priestly took a few steps back and studied the canvas from the opposite end of her quarters. The tints were off—the whites a bit too dull, the hues in the sky a bit too plain—but then, she hadn’t packed that many colors. Maybe it was just because her childhood memories of home were much more vibrant, or maybe it was that her old mind finally was failing her.
Grace tsked. Of course not; her mind was just as sharp and her memory just as clear as the day she had last been on Earth nearly a century ago. Just because she was about to die didn’t mean she was dying. She walked to the other corner of the room and looked at the painting from the side.
The fading sun reflecting off the snow was perfect, though perhaps a shade too dark. It was an adequate reflection of home. Certainly nothing she would ever show to another soul—something she wouldn’t have any concerns with shortly—but definitely a piece of work she was proud of, considering the circumstances.
Grace looked out the window. The spinning stars had settled and were now just streaming by at a leisurely pace. The good Captain Monk, as narrow-minded and unimaginative as he was, had done a very good job righting the High Marker. She didn’t think he had it in him. Too bad all that work to stabilize the ship from its out-of-control trajectory toward the heliosphere was a waste of time.
According to the last report, energy reserves were down to 2 percent. The engineers were still baffled with the question of where all the rest of the fusion power went. Over 90 percent of a Titan-class starship’s levels doesn’t just vanish into thin air. That was enough power to keep Eris lit up for two years.
Grace knew the truth, though, and it was much more fantastic and logical than anyone else in this time could guess. She thought back to the meeting with the time traveler, her own personal Grim Reaper who signaled her impending demise. It was a slight comfort that the foundation she had laid down for this time-travel agency still existed. At least something of her creation would survive, something she had not expected of the Technology Isolationists. The war had gone badly …
The ship was rocked by a thundering explosion, and the blast shields protecting the interior of the ship slammed down. That’s twice this had happened in less than an hour. This time, though, something was different. Not only did the blast shields stay closed, she could hear additional sounds of other barriers coming down outside her room. The entire ship must be going into a full lockdown as the High Marker isolated her structural components. That could only mean a hull integrity breach.
Grace pulled up the bridge through her command console. “Report, Monk.”
Monk’s haggard face appeared as he yelled off-screen. The floating comm eye must have caught him at a bad time. It followed him as he ran across the bridge and scanned an array of flashing red lights on one of the side stations.
“Focus on that console,” she ordered.
The comm eye flew up just behind the good captain’s head and zoomed in on what half a dozen of the bridge officers were staring at as well. Grace clicked her tongue; what a waste of manpower. The ship had struck something, and the object, instead of being destroyed on impact, was hard enough to punch a hole straight through the exterior plating of the second level of section three. What was strange was that, according to the console, it had also penetrated the blast shields that had dropped down to cordon off that section as well as the hallway blast shields. Whatever this thing was had destroyed three layers of shielding. Four; the section blast shields had also just gone down. Grace’s eyes widened. The object made a right turn …
“Oh my,” Grace murmured. “So many interesting things. What a terrible time to die.”
Could it be? Hours before they were all going to die, had they actually discovered alien life? After five hundred years in space, did humanity just receive their answer about life outside this system? And was the damn thing actually rampaging through the corridors of the ship? She watched as the object or creature continued down different paths, turning left at another intersection, cutting through a common room, and then backtracking the way it had come.
“It knows how to use the lift,” she muttered as her eyes trailed the blinking red dot moving throughout the ship. “Interesting.” Monk yelled out orders and waved his hands wildly, almost knocking the comm eye out of the air.
“Pan to the captain,” she ordered.
The good captain’s face had gone sheet white, as had the faces of almost all of the bridge crew. Monk barked several more commands off-screen and then focused back on the screen. A few seconds later, a dozen green dots blinked to life on the screen and swarmed toward the red dot.
“Get a security eye in there,” he said.
Four additional screens floated in the air above his head, each showing a real-time feed of the security eyes zooming down corridors toward the red dot. It seemed the security personnel, the green dots, got to the red dot first.
“Initial contact from Sec Team One with visual says humanoid!” an acolyte said from off-screen.
Humanoid? That was a surprise, though something that could blow through the hull of a warship and blast through impact shielding was definitely more than that.
“Sec Team One down!” the acolyte continued. “Sec Team Two engaging from the rear.”
“Back to the console,” Grace said. She caught the screen just in time to see the first splash of green dots closest to the red target blink out of existence. She saw another group of green coming up from behind it. Then they too blinked out. Still, Monk sent more security personnel after it.
“Get some Kill Mutes out of stasis!” he roared. “I want them awake and working in five minutes. And get a mech team powered up.”
Grace watched as a third group of green dots disappeared. Well, if Monk was going to use Kill Mutes and combat mechs in the tight spaces of a warship, he might as well just blow it apart now. Those killing machines weren’t made to fight in such tight quarters. They would tear the High Marker apart from the inside out, though considering what that intruder was doing, did it really matter? She was deathly curious, and deep in thought when she caught the end of one of Monk’s orders.
“… Sec Team Six to escort the High Scion out of her quarters to safety,” he was saying.
She checked the console again and realized that indeed, the red dot was moving toward her section. Fascinating. Her patience was rewarded as the first of the Security Eyes reached the corridor and recorded a visual of the intruder. She would at least get to see an alien life before she died, which was definitely worth the price of admission. Discovering alien life had always been one of her fondest wishes, unlikely as it was to be granted. The gods had an interesting way of fulfilling childhood dreams.
“Focus on the upper left,” Grace instructed. She had to squint as she stared at the screen within her screen.
She caught the tail end of a fight, where armored security soldiers were flung across the air like rag dolls. One of the bodies almost flew into the Security Eye, which managed to veer to the side at the very last second. Then, hovering close to the ceiling, it moved in toward the target. At first, all Grace could see was a dark figure, something definitely humanoid, with two legs and arms. Then she gasped.
“Captain Monk,” she said. “Monk!”
He turned toward the Security Eye. “Oh, High Scion! I was not aware you were there. Please be at ease. Everything is under control. A security team is on their way to see you to safety as we speak.”
“I see how much things are under control,” she remarked dryly. “The security team will not be necessary. Call all your forces back. Do not engage the intruder.”
“High Scion? We must! That thing is tearing the ship apart!”
“Call your forces back or I will order you shot on the spot.”
Monk hesitated. “Your will, High Scion.” He nodded to someone off-screen.
“Good, keep our people clear of him. Do not impede his path no matter what.”
“Him, High Scion? Is there something you know about this being? As the captain—”
She turned the comm off and waited. What could possibly be the explanation for this? It couldn’t be because of the ship’s fusion sources. They were already depleted. It could be the weapons systems, but why wouldn’t he have retrieved them his first time here? Besides, most of them were drained from the battle. It could only mean one thing. Grace Priestly began to pack. A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. How quaint. He punches a hole in her ship, kills over a dozen guards, yet knocks on her door.
“Come in,” she said, throwing on her travel cloak last. It was a good thing she hadn’t had much time to unpack when the High Marker was attacked. Who knew what awaited her wherever she was going.
The same time traveler she saw an hour ago walked into the room.
She stood up and greeted him as if this were an everyday occurrence. “You’re back. I must have left quite an impression.”
He nodded. “High Scion.”
Immediately, Grace noticed the changes in the time traveler. His skin was darker, red, almost as if burned, and his facial hair, which was bad enough before, was overgrown and unkempt. Disgusting.
The time traveler looked over at the easel in the corner. “Nice painting.”
“Was just passing the time by reminiscing, as one is wont to do before she dies.”
“Is that what Iceland was like back then?”
Grace smiled. “The Blue Lagoon. You know my history.”
“Everyone does, High Scion.”
“I told you to call me Grace.”
The time traveler looked down at the bag floating next to her. “Are you ready then?”
Grace’s heart filled with anticipation. Traveling through time had also been a childhood dream. It was what led her to study the field and enter the sciences. And while the uncertain future was something she feared, it couldn’t be any worse than where she was now. Still, he wanted something from her, else he wouldn’t have come back. Grace wasn’t one to leap blindly into the unknown. If she left now on his terms, whatever leverage she had would be lost.
“Ready to leave for your time?”
He nodded. “You already know where staying on this ship leads to.”
“Why the change of heart? What about the Time Laws?”
“I am following the spirit of the Time Laws by disobeying them.”
Grace raised an eyebrow.
“High Scion,” Monk’s voice bleeped over the comm. “Are you all right? I am moving teams to your area—”
“Stay the fuck out!” she snapped. “Comm off. Door lock. My authority.” She looked at the time traveler and smiled. “Sometimes, the consequences of the unknown are worse than the terrible ones you do know. I don’t even know your name.”
The time traveler bowed. “James Griffin-Mars, High Scion.”
“Call me Grace,” she muttered, mulling over his name. She had expected something fantastic and futuristic, but his name, like his appearance, was disappointing. Still, that tidbit of information told her much about the society he came from. Latin derivative. Old Western civilization. Possibly Christian-derivative religion.
Couple that with his familiar features and his mannerisms, not to mention his language … Actually no, he was speaking her form of space-speak too fluently. Language was the most easily mutated of cultural references, therefore logically he must be masking his native tongue. He could be well trained to behave in a fashion nonthreatening to her. By space, this could all be an act. Somehow, however, she believed him, and her instincts rarely failed her. That left only one thing to clarify.
“And what would you need me for in your future?” she asked. “My mind obviously.”
James nodded. “Among other things.”
Grace smirked. “My beauty? My sharp tongue? My leadership? Out with it, boy.”
“Humanity needs your brilliance and wisdom to save it once again.”
She harrumphed. “Wisdom is something I never had plentiful amounts of. And what would I do in your time?” There was a brief hesitation in his movements, and then she knew he was hers.
“There is an environmental catastrophe in our time,” he said.
She nodded. “Of course there is. There’s one in mine too. What’s your point?”
“We have a scientist who believes she can cure the plague. She needs your help.”
It was Grace’s turn to hesitate. This plague, known as the Terravira back at home, covered half the planet, and was said to be irreversible. Now, someone in the future had a cure? Her eyes wandered to the painting in the corner of the room, and saw the landscape that was her backyard as a child. Her family had left with the rest of the Technology Isolationists shortly after her seventh birthday, but she still remembered the beauty of the ice caps, or what little was left of them by the time she left. The Terravira had advanced so quickly in the years leading up to the mass exodus … Grace shook her head. Up until now, she had always considered leaving her people her legacy, but perhaps she had a higher calling. Could it be done? Was it even possible?
“I have questions,” she said, her voice soft and breaking.
“No time.” In a blur, James covered the distance between them and was hovering close to her. “Are you with me or not?”
There was a banging on her door.
“High Scion?” a voice said outside. “Are you all right?”
“I need to know now,” James pressed.
“Why the rush?” Grace said. “We have all the … we don’t have time, do we?”
James nodded. “The ship is moving fast, hurtling through space, not subject to the time and distance delimiters of time travel.”
“That’s how you’re able to jump back here so soon. Fascinating.” Grace walked past him and grabbed the canvas and tucked it under her arm. “Carry my bag, James,” she ordered as she returned to his side. “Now I’m ready.”
“Cut the door down,” the muffled voice on the other side of the room yelled.
“Brace yourself,” James said. There was a bright yellow flash, and then Grace suddenly felt the urge to throw up her tea. Then everything went black.
When she came to, the two of them were floating in the black of space. Her carryall bag and canvas had disappeared, and looking down, her chest was wet. She had a splitting headache.
“What happened?” she groaned.
“You passed out and then threw up on yourself,” James said.
So much for looking dignified. Grace suddenly had a severe case of vertigo and felt like throwing up again. She had had just enough embarrassment for the day and willed her body to stop acting so undignified. She reminded herself who she was.
“Now what?” she asked. “Where’s your ship? Or did you discover teleportation in the future?”
“Unfortunately, no,” James said. “My ship is on its way now. It will be here in a while. Again, our conversation lasted longer than I anticipated and I miscalculated the path of the High Marker.”
“How did you know the High Marker’s location?”
“Your ship had sent constant distress calls before it was lost. I simply extrapolated its trajectory and jumped into its path.”
“Which is why you slammed into it.” She nodded. There was a long pause between the two of them. “So now what?” she asked again. Grace hated asking. She was usually the one who knew everything.
James linked his arms around her waist and pulled her in close. “We wait, and then we save the world.”
THIRTY-FOUR
MEETING OF THE MINDS
The tension in the air became thick as soup the moment James and Grace Priestly stepped out of the collie. This was the longest he had been away from Elise since she had come to the present and she had come down to the garage to meet him. Her eyes widened when she caught sight of the Mother of Time draped on his arm.
At first, she was friendly to the beautiful and exotic but significantly older woman hanging onto him. She offered Grace a hand and smiled. “Welcome to the Elfreth. Thank you for joining us. I’m—”
Grace must have sensed something between James and Elise, and decided to assert her dominance, or just screw with him. “What a precious child,” she exclaimed to James, touching his shoulder in a more than friendly manner. “You didn’t tell me you had a daughter.”
Elise looked like someone had thrown cold water on her as she shot an incredulous look at Grace, and then a ferocious one at James.
He sighed, and of course Grace decided that this was the opportune time to further flame the situation in. She leaned in toward him and gave him a peck on the cheek, cooing softly. “Pet, I’ve stepped onto your world for about fourteen seconds and you’re already in trouble. I don’t think this time period can handle me. Your woman, at least, certainly can’t. She doesn’t seem very glad to see you. No matter, it’s time she learns who is in charge.”
