Alex Scarrow - Time Riders

‘No fear,’ Liam snorted humourlessly. ‘Jay-zus, I wish Icould say that. I’ve spent the last few months spending every waking hour in fear.Afraid I might be picked on by a guard to be made an example of. Afraid they’d decide tofinish us all off. Afraid that — ’

‘I wish…’ rumbled Bob.

The words stopped Liam’s self-pitying ramble in its tracks. He set the spoon down inhis soup bowl and looked up to see the support unit’s eyes were glazed over, focused onsome far-off, unattainable desire.

Did he just say ‘I wish … ’?

He remembered Foster saying the computer was linked to a small organic brain. Perhaps thattiny wrinkled part of Bob, that undeveloped nub of brain matter, was able to wish forsomething, to desire something, in an indefinable way?

‘Tell me,’ Liam said softly. ‘What… what do you wish for, Bob?’

‘I wish… I was… like you, Liam O’Connor.’

Liam cocked his head. ‘Like me? Jeez! Look at me. A weedy little runt. I’msixteen and I still don’t have any bristles I can shave. And the best I ever managed toachieve, before I was supposed to have died, was to become a ship’s steward. Just aflippin’ waiter. Great, huh?’

‘You were recruited because you have essential skills.’

‘Essential skills? You kidding? I can tidy a cabin, make a pot of tea and deliver itwithout spilling it on a napkin. Big deal.’

‘Your data records indicate you have a very high intelligence quotient, fast mentalreaction times and creative cognitive skills.’

‘Really?’

‘These things are listed in your personal profile records.’

‘What records?’

‘I have your complete profile on my hard drive. This includes WhiteStar Shipping’s personnel records, details on your family, your home town, your schoolreports — ’

‘You’ve got my school reports up there in yourhead?’

‘Affirmative.’ Bob’s eyes flickered momentarily, a sign that he wasretrieving data.

‘ Liam O’Connor is quite clearly a clever lad ,’Bob began reciting words Liam recognized as being penned by his old headmaster, FatherO’Herlihy, ‘ perhaps one of the brightest in his academicyear. However, he is also prone to gazing out of the window, wool-gathering at the slightestopportunity and not applying himself as much as some of the other promising young boys inhis year. Liam is something of a loner; it seems he does rather enjoy his own company duringbreak times, not joining in — ’

Bob stopped dead. Frozen for a moment.

‘You all right there, Bob?’

‘One moment… one moment.’

The muscles in Bob’s face flickered and tensed, his eyes blinked rapidly as, inside hishead, every thought process came to a sudden grinding halt.

[Transmission particles detected]

His computer sifted the data coming in, sub-atomic particles winking into existence as if bymagic and passing through solid matter as if it was air. Enough tachyons were appearing in hisneural net — caught like flies in a web — for him to begin to decode some partialmessage fragments.

[… time cont… complete devastation… low energy…for one on… as follows: Lat: 38°54′24…]

‘Bob? What’s up with you?’

‘One moment… one moment,’ he replied tonelessly.

More particles arriving, more fragments of message assembling. He waited until the passingwave of particles appeared to have finally ceased. Another minute in silence, waiting for a possible second wave of tachyons to be ensnared inside his head. But thereseemed to be nothing more now. The signal beam from the future had briefly passed this way andmoved on.

‘I have just received a weak signal from the field office,’ he announced.

‘What?’ Liam’s face lit up. ‘Just now?’

‘Affirmative.’

‘Oh… thank Mary-mother-of-Jay-zus they’ve found us! And they’re OK,right? Of course they are.’

Bob became unfrozen and took another bite out of his bread.

‘So don’t keep me in suspense, Bob. What’s the message?’

His eyelids fluttered. ‘Message from field office: timecontamination in present. Result is complete devastation. Very low energy. Unsure of windowsize. Perhaps for one only. No second chance. Time-stamp as follows: Lat:38°54′24.35"N — Long: 77°2′33.94 " W — Time 23.50, 03-03-57 .’

Liam stared at Bob. ‘I… I’m not sure I understood much of that. Didyou?’

Bob nodded. ‘Their timeline has experienced a significant shift resulting in muchdestruction. As a result, their external power feed has become compromised.’

Liam’s eyes widened. ‘So what does that mean? Their time machine doesn’twork?’

‘Incorrect. It works, but they have a limited supply of power.’

‘ Window for one only … That means…?’

‘That means they have only enough power to return one of us,’ Bob answered.‘That must be you.’

Liam shook his head. ‘Surely they can get us both backsomehow? If they fiddle around with their dials or something.’

‘Negative. Body mass affects the energy required for timeriding. You are very small,requiring much less energy than myself.’

Liam sat in silence for a moment, then finally shook his head.‘I… I can’t just leave you here on your own to… to terminate yourself,Bob. I just — ’

‘That is an illogical assessment.’

‘Surely something can be done to boost the energy their end, or lighten the load ourend? Something, surely?’

‘There is something that needs to be done,’ said Bob. ‘The data on thistimeline is stored in my hard drive and must be transported back with you.’

‘Uh… I’m not sure I like the sound of that.’ Liam swallowednervously. ‘Does that mean what I think it means?’

‘You will have to break open my cranium and remove the soft tissue inside, including myorganic brain, to access the computer. Disconnecting the computer and removing it will requireme to provide detailed instructions before you do this in order to prevent you from triggeringthe self-termination firmware as you extract the computer.’

‘Ugh… no… I’m not sure I can do that, Bob. Really… I’m-’

‘You have no choice. It is a mission requirement.’

Liam shook his head, already feeling sick at the thought of hacking open Bob’s head.‘So… so when would I have to perform this operation ?’

‘The extraction window is set for twenty-five hours’ time.’

‘And where is it?’

Bob blinked, retrieving data. ‘The co-ordinates are for a street called JeffersonPlace, in the city of Washington DC. It is approximately one mile from the location of ouroriginal arrival window.’

Liam’s eyes widened further. ‘A mile from the White House? But that’s justcrazy! That whole area is going to be thick with soldiers and those buzzing air-jetthingies.’

‘We must make for this location within the time left. Once there youmust extract the computer from my cranium, or alternatively remove my head and take that withyou.’

‘Cut your head off?’ Liam blanched, his face turning sickly pale. ‘Ican’t do that, Bob. I’m… I’ve never been good with blood and ickystuff. I’ll faint… I’m telling you, I’ll keel over and faint, so Iwill. And then I’ll miss this window and we’ll both bein a fix.’

He looked down at the tepid remains of lumpy soup in his bowl and put it to one side, nolonger feeling hungry. ‘Is there really no other way?’

‘If you were smaller. If I was smaller. If the extraction window was opened geographically closer to the field office. If the extraction windowwas not so far back in time. These factors all affect the total energy required.’