As she was about to leave the reception area, Jannson dashed out from his office, his face etched with worry. ‘Raiya, you can’t go, it’s too dangerous,’ he said simply. He even seemed about to put out a hand to stop her, but then drew his arm back, like a protective father who had then realised his daughter was a bit too old for such intervention.
‘Thanks for your concern, Jannson,’ she said flatly. ‘I understand the risks; you of course can monitor me. If at any time you lose my position, then you know what to do.’
‘Let me come with you.’
‘No. If anything happens to me it would be difficult to conceal it.’ She really didn’t believe that herself, even though it was true that if anything unfortunate happened to Jannson it would not be given the same attention.
‘You don’t think they would dare do anything to a prominent psychiatrist; if Doctor Heigener is in peril then surely the same danger applies to you?’
‘I have to go now.’ She turned abruptly, left the reception room, feeling the swoosh of the air con against her face. Don’t look back.
The car park echoed at her footsteps, rapid sounds of urgent intent thrown back at her. That man, Standford, would know her intentions and certainly her location. She could just sense his looming presence. But she made it to the car.
‘Leonard Heigener,’ she told it, in the knowledge that it had his location recorded.
‘Cannot comply,’ it told her back in its androgynous and bland voice.
‘Excuse me!’ The computer was merely that; it was simply programmed to follow instructions.
‘Activating protocol six.’ She had no idea what that meant other than it was not good.
‘What are you doing?’ Her voice rang with fear.
‘Emergency lockdown. You are not authorized to use this vehicle.’
‘But it’s me – Raiya. You have my genetic ident.’
‘No longer valid,’ it told her blandly.
‘How---’ the car was beginning to move.
She activated her comm badge. ‘Jannson. Security shutdown. DON’T LET ME OUT OF THIS BUILDING.’ But there was no response.
‘I have activated a communication dampening field,’ the computer informed her.
‘Let me out,’ she demanded. The car was approaching the exit as the barrier opened.
‘Cannot comply. You will be taken to the new owner of this vehicle.’
‘To where – who?’
‘Question not relevant.’ The car was leaving the institute, she tried the door release not really expecting them to unlock. Once past the secure zone it shot upwards, winded her temporarily, and then the sudden acceleration forward made her feel faint from the G-force. Somehow the safety limiters had been deactivated, somehow it had been reprogrammed. She felt like an entrapped animal being taken to its prey. Thoughts of their interrogation techniques ran through her mind. What was it that led her to this? Curiosity for one man, or concern for a dear colleague?
The car was heading towards the Rockies, somewhere in British Columbia. Her nav system was off-line, seemingly under some kind of remote control. Basic systems were still working, giving her speed as Mach 7.4, which must’ve been at the limit, the air against the oval windscreen sounded like a hurricane. The car pitched now on a downward trajectory. The hastening rush of the ground was nauseating.
As the mountain loomed up into her vision she could barely look, just one glance as the car was about to hit. ‘Oh god!’ Her arm in front of her face in futile self protection. But no impact. She looked up to see an artificial interior, evenly lit beige walls, as if this were an aircraft hanger. She’d hardly noticed how her car had slowed so quickly that it was now only travelling at a few kilometres an hour. Small oblong lights ran along all sides, giving the sense of her steady approach to landing.
About a minute after a gentle touch-down, a man walked through a concealed door. He was dressed in normal civilian clothes, a black top and olive trousers. Perhaps forty, but it was impossible to tell these days, such were the commonalities of geneering. As he got nearer he put up his hand, a cross between a wave and a gesture of peace.
The car’s door opened automatically. She strangely didn’t feel fear any more; just glad to be still alive, really.
He said, ‘You may not recognize me, but you know of me. My name is Torbin Lyndau.’
From the car she studied his face. A liar would give away so much information unaware, not just in body language but something in the voice. The only impression she got was of an earnest statement.
However ... ‘Why should I believe you?’
‘I don’t expect you to believe me without evidence. Right now you have every reason not to trust a dead man. Even if I repeated extracts from my journal you’d only conclude that they were from the copy you gave away.’
‘You look young for a dead man.’ It sounded ludicrous as she said it.
‘That’s because I’m out of my time.’
‘Would it be worth you explaining that to me.’
‘This may sound odd – even for people of your century, but put simply: I am not governed by linear time.’
‘You were taken by aliens who resemble ghosts.’
‘And you don’t believe that but instead think I’m insane.’
‘I had my doubts about your sanity.’
‘Well, far be it from me to shatter your illusions about this mad scientist, Raiya.’
‘How did you find out about me?’
‘Please come with me and I will explain everything.’
She still didn’t trust him, trust that he was who he claimed to be. ‘No, you can explain here.’
He drew breath in what nearly amounted to a sigh. ‘I have friends, not the aliens who abducted me; these beings, however, have great power. They call themselves the B’tari. They want to help prevent what is known as The Erasure, in other words the end of this galaxy.’ He put his hand on the bottom seal under the open side door, leaned in ominously. ‘Our existence will be erased from the universe, unless I remain alive long enough to create a temporal bubble.’
‘Forgive me for not being receptive to your theory, Mister Lyndau, but you proffer no evidence.’ She couldn’t simply accept his words on face value.
‘If you come with me I will show you the evidence.’
*
To the casual observer the probe on its journey through the Lyrabes system was nothing special, just one of thousands of explorer probes. Chief astronomer Zorandi Entola knew differently. Space around the field generated by the spherical device was being altered, hundreds of millions of stars thrown back tens of millions of years by the main temporal eradication wave. Unlike the previous attempt, the shield for now was holding against the onslaught of megagravitons, emanating from a single point.
His team of astronomers and physicists had been commissioned by Central Council to develop the shield in the hope that one day it would save the B’tari and even humans from being wiped out of existence. Doubtless the B’tari would survive, whilst surrounded by some primitive relic of early evolution. The wave itself engulfed the device for about ten hours of their time; how long it took to experience for someone not shielded was impossible to determine, and the perception of it.... One unshielded probe offered little insight, simply disappearing. The only clue in its fleeting telemetry indicated a drastically dilated timescale by the order of at least a billion to one. It was as if time had slowed to such an extent that it could no longer function; or just broke apart, like a flower immersed in liquid nitrogen. He thought perhaps it merely got to a point where it could no longer exist in total stasis. No reversal of entropy, just erasure.
The prospect existed that his race would be the only one to survive this, alone, with only the information of a once rich galaxy. Certainly, they could recreate life; except that would go against the most fundamental teachings of the Temporal Directive. But then surely their current plan did also.
The Temporal Directive, however, had a loophole (at least in the most recent interpretation). The B’tari could never act alone, the council ruled against a ‘controlling interference’. Zorandi was about to see evidence of this. He activated the monitor to Earth base to reveal a small, brightly lit conference room. The two humans, a male and female, were seated opposite each other in plastic chairs, rather than using the official conference table. The male had been working for the B’tari as a ‘progenitor’: someone who, with guidance from the council, developed ideas and technology to assist his own species. If the human race were to be saved it would be that strange-looking human who took the credit; the B’taris’ input would not be recorded.
The human male was speaking, demonstrating the effect of the temporal eradication process through the probe’s recording Zorandi himself had forwarded, speaking (according to the audio translator) as if he were central to the plan. The woman continued to react with incredulity, her face crinkling up and her head shaking momentarily. Then the man drooped his head, appearing to be in some kind of negative emotional state. The female reached over to touch him on the shoulder. Zorandi knew something about the woman, that she was a counsellor of some sort; that certainly would explain this apparent expression of compassion.
The man got to his feet, still seemly in a distressed state; a camera zoomed to his face revealed eyes welling. The woman got closer to try to calm him. Then they were embracing, as his sobbing became audible. Was it he who who initiated the embrace? This man had been deprived of female human company for some considerable time now; it was understandable that he’d take the first available opportunity to make contact, even if it meant using a degree of subterfuge. Zorandi even entertained the notion that he was witnessing a prelude to a more intimate interaction. Surely they know they are being watched. However, the woman – perhaps sensing the man was intent on something more than mere emotional comforting – returned to her seat after a light pat on his shoulder.
Clearly this man had been through a traumatic experience; humans were not accustomed to time-travel, and certainly his encounter with the beings he called the Elusivers would have been troubling, even to a B’tari.
***