H. Stratmann: Symphony in a Minor Key

Me? Robbins thought. This is my project. How could she think —. He paused. Unless she thinks I’m so diabolically clever I proposed it just to sabotage it, so no one else would try to change TCE’s past. Robbins felt a trickle of sweat form under his armpits. I know I didn’t sabotage it. But how can I prove it to them?

Everett continued, “Do you know anyone else who had both the technical knowledge and opportunity to sabotage the project?”

Harrison frowned. “Well, I suppose—.”

“Dr. Ertmann.”

They all looked at Robbins.

“Remember, Dr. Harrison? She was in the Portal Room just before I translocated. Could she have done something?”

Harrison glared at him in a way unbecoming someone dedicated to the saving of lives.

“Madame Chancellor,” he said, “I find Dr. Robbins’s insinuation in very poor taste, considering the person in question has just died under tragic circumstances and cannot defend herself.”

“We understand, Dr. Harrison,” Everett said. “However, try to put your personal feelings aside, and give us an honest answer.”

Harrison’s shoulders sagged. “Dr. Ertmann was very—idealistic. She was one of the most caring and dedicated physicians I have ever worked with.”

He paused. “However, I must say this too. When Dorothy went back and obtained those specimens from Beethoven, she was under the impression it was a standard pathology project to discover his cause of death—the kind she and I have done on so many other historical figures before. After Dr. Robbins’s project was approved, I”—he hesitated—“told her what its real purpose was. And yes, I know that information was only supposed to be given on a strict ‘need to know’ basis. But I believed that, considering the dangerous work she’d done, she had the moral, if not technically the legal right to know.”

Everett said, “And how did she react when you told her?”

“She became very angry. She cited the potential risks of erasing our own world, or of causing some unforeseen catastrophe on TCE—much like Dr. Brentano did at our recent meeting. She even accused me of lying to her, and betraying her.”

The Chancellor asked, “But—what does this all mean?”

“It means,” Everett answered, “that we try again. But this time, it’s going to be a little more complicated. And,”—she looked at Robbins—“a lot more dangerous.”

After putting on his NOC suit, Robbins re-entered the Portal Room. Miles was talking to Everett and Harrison. “—Now that you mention it, I did pick up a pair of NV goggles and a retrieval bracelet off the floor after Dr. Robbins and I came back into the Portal Room.”

Everett looked at Robbins. “The technician says Dr. Ertmann was left unattended at the active portal for ten minutes. So she had time to enter TCE, and do something to sabotage your attempt to vaccinate Beethoven. Harrison says she probably injected him with a blocking agent which would prevent him from responding to the vaccine you gave, or any nanoscrubbers we might inject later.”

Harrison nodded.

Robbins said, “Tell me again. What exactly am I supposed to do?”

“The technician has set the coordinates to translocate you to Beethoven’s apartment about five minutes before we believe Dr. Ertmann arrived. What you need to do, is stop her. Confront her when she arrives. Convince her to return without doing what she came to do.” A grim smile formed on Everett’s lips. “Be creative.”

Robbins replied, “But how is that going to change anything? You’re saying that if I stop Dr. Ertmann, the vaccine I injected should work then, and Beethoven will live longer. But, 1 know he didn’t live longer, because when I went to TCE the day after he was ‘supposed’ to die, he was dead. Therefore, I won’t succeed, I can’t succeed in stopping her! Do you understand what I’m trying to say?” Robbins frowned. He wasn’t sure he understood what he was trying to say. “It sounds like I’m supposed to change what’s already happened. And I remember you said it’s impossible to change our past.”

“No,” Everett replied patiently, “we can’t travel back along the timeline of our own branch Universe and change its past. But, as I said at your meeting, we can change the ‘past’ of TCE without running into the kind of causality problems you’re trying to describe. In other words, from our past’ and ‘present’ perspective, Dr. Ertmann did succeed in preventing the vaccine from working and prolonging Beethoven’s life. However, if you go back ‘now’ and stop her, from our ‘future’ point of view—which will become the present’ when you return through the portal after stopping her—at that time, from our perspective, she will have failed, and the vaccine you gave will work. Is that clear?”

Robbins knew she couldn’t see his face through the black hood of the NOC suit, but she must have guessed how bewildered it looked.

Everett said sympathetically, “Even if you don’t understand, just take my word. If you do what I tell you, it will work.” Then a real smile flickered on her lips. “Trust me, I’m a physicist!”

Robbins and the other two men blinked. Now’s the time she decides to show she has a sense of humor, he thought.

Recovering first, Miles said, “The portal is stable and active, Dr. Everett.”

The latter said, “Good luck, Dr. Robbins.” Sounds like I’ll need it. He walked to the portal entrance—.

“One more thing.” Caught with one leg in the air, Robbins teetered on the threshold of the portal before righting himself.

The grim smile was back on Everett’s lips. “Make sure you stay on TCE no more than fifteen minutes. Otherwise you might—literally—run into your past’ self coming through to inject the vaccine. I’m not sure what would happen if that occurred, but some of the possibilities are very—unpleasant.”

As if I didn’t have enough to worry about already.

At least the translocation went smoothly—no rude surprises so far. The kitchen in the composer’s apartment was almost exactly as he remembered it. His NV goggles guided him back to the main studio room. He positioned himself in the corner of the room farthest from the bedroom door—and waited.

After what seemed like an eternity, he heard a faint rustle from the kitchen. A few seconds later, she came through the open doorway. Ertmann was dressed just as he’d last seen her in the Portal Room. She was wearing the NV goggles and bracelet Miles had mentioned. In her left hand she held an injector like the one he’d used to inject the vaccine—or was that “going to use”? He let her get half way to the bedroom door before he whispered, “Stop.”

She froze like a statue. While the rest of her remained immobile her head swiveled slowly towards the direction of his voice.

“I know what you’re planning to do, and I can’t let you do it.” Robbins hoped he sounded menacing.

“Dr. Harrison sent you, didn’t he,” she whispered back.

“Yes.”

Shoulders slumped in resignation, she placed the injector in a pocket on the side of her lab coat. “I should have known it wouldn’t work.”

“Now we’re going to go back to the kitchen together, activate the portal, and leave. Understood?”

The expression on her face was so forlorn he had to suppress an urge to go over, give her a hug, and say, “There, there, it’s all right.”

Ertmann shrugged. “Why not?”

Moving quietly to her side, Robbins steered her back toward the kitchen. As they entered it he started to activate the retrieval bracelet on his wrist—and then she broke away from him and screamed, “No!”

Startled, Robbins froze. What if she’d just woken Beethoven up—.