Диана Дуэйн: Lifeboats

“Though you could still come back and check in with us every few minutes, couldn’t you?” Kit’s mama said. “Legs has all those worldgates he runs, after all. I bet he’d do you a favor and let you just run back for a minute or two if you asked him…”

“Uh,” Kit said, “Mama, no, not really. If we’re going to be timesliding back to right after we leave, in local time, it means we can’t do intraliminal sidetiming back into this temporospatial frame while we’re away. Because when we come back, having been in this time here and somewhere else can cause local temporal discontinuities if you’re not really careful. And if that happened and things also got screwed up enough by all the timesliding activity in the area, you could wind up with two of me, or maybe more, which is bad, because the quantum resonance between two—”

He saw their confused expressions and had to stop for a moment and rub his face. “See, this is why the Speech has all these extra tenses for time travel…” Kit said. And then he stopped rubbing his face, because his pop was doing it too, the exact same way. “Let’s try it this way. If you—”

Kit’s mama started waving her hands in the air. “No, it’s okay, stop,” she said. “Stop. You had me convinced at ‘two of me’. Go do your thing. Juan, stop making his life difficult.”

“I’m making his life difficult?” Kit’s pop said. “Anyway.” He took a long drink of his coffee and looked up at Kit. “It’s a rescue mission, I can understand that much. And some kinds of math matter more than others. Finding a hundred fifty million people somewhere else to be when the sky starts falling? That beats calculus hands down. If you flunk your test I’ll ask to meet your teacher, tell her that something stressful came up; you’ll retake it.” Another drink of the coffee. “So go. But look,” he added as Kit picked up the manual and was turning to run upstairs and start packing, “that tinkering you did with my phone so you can call me from Mars or wherever? You could maybe text me on that once a day or so, your time? Just to let me know how you’re getting on. You know your Mama worries.”

Kit was not fooled about who was going to be doing the worrying. He hugged his Pop one-armed while bopping him lightly on top of his head with the manual in his free hand. “Yeah, no problem.” He headed out. “I’ll get out of here, and then I’ll see you in…”

“Fifteen minutes?” said his pop.

“Give or take,” Kit said from the living room.

“Just one of you!” his mama called after him.

“Nag, nag, nag!” Kit shouted back, and ran up the stairs.

***

Things became something of a blur for a while after that. Kit decamped into the bathroom and locked the door, as much to have a few moments’ peace as to take care of physical business—as early as his Ordeal he’d discovered that his Mama’s favorite line, “You should have gone before you left”, could acquire whole new levels of meaning when you were out on errantry.

He was horrified to find, when after a few minutes he cracked the manual again, that the intervention section was even thicker than it had been when he’d shown it to his folks just now. What is going on up there? He leafed once more through the first few pages, more slowly this time, intent on getting at least the basic facts straight before he walked into the next scheduled briefing at the Crossings. Yet at the same time he was still having trouble concentrating because of the issues that had already been dogging his afternoon: or at least, with one of them.

I still have no idea what to do about Valentine’s Day. Or if I should do anything! There had been more than enough things to be confused about since the nature of his and Nita’s relationship had begun to shift, but this was an unwelcome addition to the list. Based on the preparations Kit had heard other kids at school making—or not making—it seemed like any gesture on V-Day could be construed as too much or too little. Flowers? For someone whose dad’s a florist? Maybe not. Jewelry? That could wind up loaded with dangerous symbolism that Kit didn’t care to get tangled up in. Hardware? Yeah, right, buy that for someone who can go to the Crossings and get whatever gadget she wants, from this planet or not, discounted a hundred percent…

Kit slapped the manual shut and stuck it on the windowsill, scowling. Maybe something really simple would be best. Something personal. Or homemade. Yeah, like what? Somehow Kit didn’t think Nita was going to be interested in cut-out construction paper hearts. Not that he’d thought she’d been interested in those for some time now. But what if she thinks this isn’t anything we need to be doing? Or what if she thinks that this is something we really should be doing, and I can’t figure out what she wants? Because Kit had gotten a sense more than once that Nita was as confused about the whole issue as he was. It was all making him incredibly uncomfortable.

Well, thank God there are other things to think about now, Kit thought, picking up the manual and starting to riffle through it again. Are we even going to be on this planet on Valentine’s Day? Because the numbers Mamvish had given him seemed solid enough, but before now Kit had seen time estimations that sounded just as good go way south in a matter of hours, or minutes. Ten days, plus or minus… We might be back. We might not. Either way, even if I can figure out what to do, is there going to be time enough to do it? Oh God.

…But this can wait. Somewhere up there a moon’s about to fall on a bunch of people! I need to get packed.

Kit flipped through the red-glowing crisis section of the manual in search of the page that would list the spell data for his puptent—particularly the Speech-based password that would give him access to the small cubic of living space that would follow him wherever he went. After a few moments he found it, glanced down the page to see if the parameters had changed significantly since he last used it. They hadn’t. Good, he thought, and tapped the page.

Immediately a three inch wide black spot developed on the middle of the page. Won’t need furniture for this run, Kit thought. I’ll just talk some air solid to sleep on at nights: the general energy supplement they’re giving us should be enough to cover that even when I’m sleeping…

With one hand Kit peeled the dark spot off the page—the portal to the puptent space not being active yet, there was no danger of cutting his fingers on the inside boundary of the interface—and stood distracted for a moment as he flipped a page or so along to where there were details of what extra power he was being given for this intervention. He ran a finger down the page, and stopped, and stared.

That can’t be right. Somebody must have misplaced a decimal point…

Except it had to be right. This was the manual: it was always right. Kit looked at the number written there in the Speech and did the math in his head, and realized that for as long as this intervention lasted, he’d have something like ten times his normal power level. He’d be able to coast through doing spells that would normally leave him limp as a wet rag and spending a day nursing a migraine-level headache.

Kit sagged against the edge of his desk for a moment, briefly stunned by the idea of the kind of spells he could do. Then he got annoyed with himself because he had absolutely no idea of what he wanted to do with all this extra power.

“Except get my butt out on errantry,” he muttered after a moment. “Because that’s what it’s for…”

He turned his attention to the little black circle of nothing in his hand and hung it up on the air. “Stay there,” Kit told it in the Speech, and then grabbed its sides and started stretching it until it was about three feet wide. When it was wide enough he took it by both sides and slapped it up against his closet door, where it adhered.