John Schettler - Meridian

He tried to visualize the team of future researchers who had labored to reach them here with their urgent call for help. It took everything they could do, all of their resources, to get a single man back to this time with a message. Imagine the computers they must have used to coordinate things; the power generation capabilities, the general understanding they had of the whole process. Yet, they had missed their target by a full seven years, forcing the intrepid Mr. Graves to wait out the days in a monastery to reach a single, critical moment in time on a rain-slick street corner by the BART station. True, there had been profound interference generated by the Palma Shadow, and they would not have that obstacle to contend with on this side of the event. Yet the Shadow was building itself up even now, gathering strength and shape from each life the tsunami sequence was extinguishing, a great overspreading darkness that promised to swallow them all in time. There might be some interference, even if the way to the past was still open.

The last words of the visitor replayed themselves in his mind with a growing sense of unease. “A moment exists somewhere in time that can undo the catastrophe that is about to change the entire world. We must find it, and that quickly. We are in the eye of the tempest now. We have less than six hours before the wave-front is scheduled to make first landfall. You have a fully operational Arch ready here, and you must use it tonight.”

It was almost half past one, and they had less than three hours left to them now. What if something went wrong? What if there was interference from the emerging Shadow of the catastrophe and they ended up in the wrong day, in the wrong month, the wrong year? If they fell short of the target date, they would have to live out the time just as patiently as Mr. Graves had, assuming that was possible. What if they missed the mark by twenty years, thirty years? Paul was in his later forties, reasonably fit, and with good genes. He might live to be eighty or even ninety under normal conditions in the comfort of contemporary American culture. The other team members were close to his same age as well. If they missed the mark by too many years they would be forced to simply live out their lives as best they could in a distant past, with the hope of making it intact to the month of November, 1917. If they missed by fifty years? The prospect of missing on the other side of the target was something he did not even wish to consider.

He knew they would have to arrive somewhere prior to 1965, for they were all born in the last five years of that decade. If they did miss, or if the retraction algorithms failed, for any reason, they would be doomed. He imagined walking through the Arch and emerging some forty years beyond the target date, in the year 1957 instead of 1917. What would happen to them as they approached their birthdays in the late 1960s? According to his theory, they would have to die in some way, before the date of their actual birth. It was an uncomfortable prospect to consider—all too much to ruminate on now. The variables fought with one another in his mind, confusing him and throwing fuel on the fire of anticipation that was building in his stomach. They had to make the attempt, no matter what the outcome. Someone had to go, and he knew he would be the first to step through the Arch, come what may. Could he do it by himself? Was it necessary to risk the lives of any of the others?

Nordhausen was up from his reading and rapidly keying something on a computer terminal. Kelly was just completing the data download, feeding the precious Arion calculations into the Arch control unit. Maeve, God bless her, was trying to discretely slip out of her clothing in the ante-room to get into her costume. Lord, could he ever let any of them go? There would be quite an argument if he tried to prevent them. If he somehow prevailed and stepped through the Arch alone, would he ever see any of them again?

He passed a moment of sentiment, and then steeled himself. He could not be concerned with his own personal feelings now. Kelly and Robert were his closest friends. If he had to lose them to save them, and everyone else in the bargain, he would suffer the burden alone.

Maeve opened the squeaking door to the ante-room and emerged in British Khaki shorts and blouse. High wool stockings were pulled up to her knees and she was fiddling with a canvas belt and buckle as she came.

“You’ll need to put on something warm,” said Nordhausen. “It’s raining.”

“What? We aren’t going out again tonight,” Maeve scolded.

“No, my dear,” Robert humored her, “It’s raining there, in November of 1917. I just came across the passage in my Seven Pillars. I’ve been double checking it in the meteorological database. It seems they were dismayed by a nice thick winter rain the night of the attack. The ground was quite wet. Mud made for long work as they tried to set the charges and bury the cables.”

“Oh. Well, I’ll still have my Arab clothing on top of this. How do I look?”

“Wonderful,” said Kelly. “A fine British soldier—except women were just not in the Army back then, Maeve.”

“I’m a nurse!” Maeve protested meekly. “And that only if we’re discovered. Until then, I can swaddle myself under Meccan shepherd’s dress and hide behind the veil.” She raised a handkerchief to her face to cover her mouth and nose. Her hazel eyes darted about, and it was clear that she was intent on leaping through the Arch at the first opportunity. Her excitement was obvious, but it made Paul all the more anxious.

“Perhaps we better discuss this a bit,” he ventured.

“Discuss what?” Maeve had the belt buckle cinched up and was fishing about in the pockets of her shorts.

“About the mission,” Paul continued. “And about who should go and all…” His voice faded as he finished.

“Count me in,” said Nordhausen. “And you’re coming along, aren’t you Paul?”

“Yes, but…”

“Don’t even try, Paul.” Maeve was on to him at once. “If you think I’m going to let the two of you go tramping through history unattended, you’re crazy. Who knows what nonsense Robert may try to pull?”

“Oh, come now, Maeve,” the professor protested. “Are you still on that Bermuda Pamphlet thing? If there’s anyone here who has a respect for the history, it’s me.”

“That’s exactly my point!” Maeve forged ahead. “You’ll get back there and you simply know too much about things. A little knowledge is a dangerous thing. Your curiosity about what you think you know will be overwhelming. You’ll start sticking your nose into things just to satisfy yourself that you were right.”

“And just what is that supposed to mean?” Nordhausen’s chin jutted at her as he spoke, rising to the fray of the argument.

“Are you telling me you wouldn’t like to get a peek at Lawrence and his little band of cutthroats? Shakespeare’s desk is one thing, but if you go off and try a little stunt like that you could get us all killed!”

“Oh, please,” the professor turned away with a peeved expression, intent on his book.

“But don’t we need a watch on potential Outcomes here, Maeve?” Paul tried another approach, appealing to her logic instead of trying to back her down directly. “Normally it would take several weeks to develop your algorithms for Outcomes and Consequences. Won’t you need to stay here with Kelly and feed those numbers for processing?”

“What do you mean stay here with me?” Kelly looked up from his terminal and Paul could see that his argument had run into flak immediately. Maeve waved at Kelly to be quiet and took the floor.

“There’s no way I could complete the calculations in time. That’s why it’s imperative that I keep a close eye on the event from the mission end of things. What good are algorithms now? We haven’t done any of the primary research. We’re relying on the date and time from the visitor’s note, and the hope they’ve thought this through for us. No sir, Outcomes and Consequences will have to work its will on the mission end of the project this time. Under normal circumstances I would never even allow a breach like this. Going along is my one chance at assuring myself that the two of you won’t mess things up.”