Prehistoric Clock (13 page)
Authors: Robert Appleton
He raked his hair behind his ears. “Shortly after my father returned from Angola, he was approached several times to join something called the Atlas Club, and the offers kept him up nights. I never did find out why, or what the club itself actually was. But when he refused for the umpteenth time, explaining he was already a member of too many clubs and societies…he suddenly found himself facing an indictment for treason. It was odd, though, I didn’t connect the two events until much later. But here’s the clincher—my Uncle Ralph was
also
approached about the Atlas Club in the run-up to
his
arrest. He’d turned it down, as well.”
He paused while a chorus of distant roars from the coast suggested large dinosaurs were engaged in vicious combat.
“This is all very…conspiratorial, Embrey. You’d have us believe the devil resides in that copper tower, and his minions stand watch at every street corner. I say, show a fool his shadow and he’ll show you a shady world.”
“And if it really
is
a corrupt world?”
Verity laughed. “Then the joke is on me. But I’d like to hear more about your father’s trial. You say evidence was falsified. Have you proof of this?”
“No. Like I said, the evidence disappeared after the trial. The two handwriting experts they used were never heard from again.”
“As you say—very odd.”
Despite her obtuse remarks, Embrey felt sure he’d made his case, and that was enough for now. They were on cordial speaking terms. No need to overstep his good fortune. And surely he could think of something more congenial than politics to engage a beautiful woman during a sunset.
“I wonder, Verity, if we’d met somewhere else—” he began carefully, “—on safari in Africa, say, or in South America…”
His mind blanked.
“Hmm?” She appeared to blink coquettishly without realising, which made his heart squirrel.
“I only meant to say that, a few years back, if we’d shot each other on safari—
met
—I mean
met
each other on safari…”
Kill me now!
“…I’d have asked permission to call on you.”
She stared at him. Embrey wondered how long it would take his body to hit the deck if he jumped to save his further humiliation. But…was she…blushing?
“Would I have been too bold?” he asked.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
She smirked. “On where our bullets had hit.”
Cecil’s Diary
My dearest Edmond,
A happy turn of events! Today, Miss Polperro and her Whitehall comrades agreed to help us collect timber from the western forest. Only three days have passed since our adventure on the great lake and already our two factions appear to have coalesced. No more bickering, at least. Embrey doesn’t entirely trust this truce—he says he’d rather work cheek by jowl with a pig than a politician—but I’m relieved to have an end to the animosity. And with Carswell’s discovery of a freshwater brook in that same woods, our makeshift industry is running very well indeed. Kibo’s constant conveyance of timber and water on his tri-wheel vehicle is a godsend. I estimate in three days’ time we should have enough materials to power my machine. That ought to be more than sufficient.
When you are old enough to understand the physics of my invention, I shall explain how difficult it has been to realign the lenses for refracting psammeticum energy, and also why I believe young Billy’s imagination—his conscious thought at the instant of the time jump—determined our destination. My Harrison clock must somehow, during the reaction, have tapped into the very “consciousness” of time itself. Not in any human or even God-like sense, that age-old, perhaps infinite dimension we call time must be some sort of medium of exchange. It is not merely a cold abstract. It has a direct, determinable link to every molecule and every minute flow of energy ever found in the universe. We can interface with it, inject our thoughts and memories into it, and it will accordingly effect a time shift around our localised reaction. Is cosmic psammeticum energy itself a part of the physical memory of the universe?
Among all the thoughts conjured by our learned minds during the time jump, those of a young boy determined our destination. This, to me, suggests a child’s imagination is the purer form of consciousness. It is uncluttered by adult ambivalence and ambiguity. And the spider’s web? Well, what could be purer than animal instinct? This great force we have tapped into seems to react strongest to the simplest motivations of the living brain. One of escape—Billy’s; and the economy of survival—the spider’s perfect web.
Those are my theories, at least. In a few days time, I shall put them to the test and have Billy conjure a vivid memory of London. Aught else and I fear Miss Polperro’s objection—that resting our entire endeavour on a child’s capricious mind is a folly—may well be proven correct. But there is no alternative. We cannot leave him behind, and we must therefore have faith in his powers of concentration.
Lord knows, I wish it were not so. In all other capacities, I feel confident my machine will perform wonders once again. And this diary may yet find its way into your adult hands, my dear son. I have given everything to see you again. Let God stop us if He must.
A reclining moon hung low over the southern tree tops as Cecil drank a toast with his fellow dinner guests to the London they’d left behind and the one they would soon be reacquainted with. The officers’ dining table had been brought up to the quarterdeck for this unusual get-together—for the first time, Agnes Polperro had deigned to attend a discussion on the upcoming time travel, specifically to voice her comrades’ opinions. She sat opposite Verity and the two said little throughout the meal, while Cecil, Embrey and Tangeni regaled each other with tales of the lake expedition.
At last, as Embrey poured the after-dinner wine, the prissy schoolmarm folded up her napkin and flicked it rudely onto the table. “Let us not play out this charade any longer. We are here to discuss the boy—a boy whose very presence puts our chances of returning home, indeed our lives, in jeopardy. Your views on the matter, Professor Reardon, are reckless and dangerous as ever, but I would like to hear what the rest of you have to say. Bear in mind you are playing with not only your own lives and the lives of this crew, but also those of fourteen gentlemen of some note in London, and my own future, as well. Do not be swayed by sentiment alone. Think carefully on the wisdom of trusting our fate to a fickle boy. Most of my colleagues are ambivalent as to whether he should be allowed to come with us at all.”
Incredible! Cecil had heard the rumours but this— actually
considering
leaving Billy behind? An eleven-year-old lad?
“Not while I draw breath, you don’t.” He leapt up in protest and slammed his fist on the table.
Embrey joined him, hands on hips…or was it pistols? “I think the matter is already settled, ma’am.” How he kept such a calm voice eluded Cecil, but clearly young Embrey was used to confrontations of all types. “Anyone who doesn’t wish to make the journey alongside the boy is welcome to remain here. That is every man’s prerogative…and every woman’s.” He eyed Miss Polperro harshly. “Is anyone else here seriously considering this madness? Tangeni? Verity?”
“Absolutely not.” The African pursed his lips.
“Verity?” Embrey appeared as puzzled by her silence as Cecil was. Surely she wasn’t—
“
Eembu,
what are you thinking?” Even Tangeni was at a loss.
The captain took a long swig of wine, her attractive elfin features lit severely by the oil lamp. “I’d like to hear Miss Polperro’s proposal first. That was not an easy thing for her to say, or for her colleagues to agree on. If those learned men have a solution, I’d like to hear it.”
“Sincerely?” Cecil couldn’t believe his ears. “In all my years, I’ve never heard such a heinous—”
“Sit down, Professor,” Verity insisted with her forefinger pointed at his seat. “We’ve listened to your opinions ad nausea this past week, and if it’s all the same with you, I’d like to hear what our Whitehall friends have to say.”
“No, that is not all right, and never will be. Good night, Embrey, Tangeni.”
But before he could leave the table, Verity shot to her feet. “I said sit down. Right this instant!”
How dare she?
Cecil’s narrowest glare didn’t appear to have even the slightest effect.
Doesn’t she realise this is
my
show and no one else’s?
He threw his own napkin down and reluctantly obeyed…this time. She was, after all, in charge of his protection. He’d need her on his side while he completed the repairs to his machine.
“And you too, Embrey, if you wouldn’t mind,” she said.
The young marquess bowed and took his seat—surprising, given they’d been at loggerheads for much of the week.
“Pray explain, then, Miss Polperro.” Cecil cast her an icy glare. “What do you propose we do with our errant schoolboy?”
“Nothing. You all misapprehend my objections, as usual. And this is precisely why a military officer with no actual command experience should never have put herself in charge of the camp.”
Yes, and your bustle makes you like look like a march hare.
“While I respect your diplomacy just now, Lieutenant Champlain, you were not voted to your current position. On the other hand, there are several experienced members of Parliament whose counsel you have utterly ignored. Granting us governorship over those crumbling buildings was an insult. Your divisive attempt at leadership has brought ruin to this camp.”
Verity raised an eyebrow and then pinged her glass with a fork. “So says the head of a lynch mob, speaking on behalf of—”
“But they were drunk at the time, drowning their sorrows. It is not fair to…after all, they were only riled by the truth.” And so was Miss Polperro, her voice now sharp and strict. “I cannot excuse their behaviour, but nor do I have to.”
“Then kindly refrain from casting aspersions on Miss Champlain’s conduct,” Embrey replied, to everyone’s delight—everyone who didn’t resemble a put-upon schoolmarm at parents’ evening, that was.
“Answer me this one thing.” Verity stared down her Whitehall counterpart. “What would you have us do with Billy?”
“Leave him behind with some of the aeronauts. Let us first make the time jump without his caprice, and then let Professor Reardon return for him later, when fewer lives are at stake. The Leviacrum Council would spare no resource in finding a solution to these phenomena with Professor Reardon. I will pledge my career to helping you return for Billy, but first let us save as many lives as we can…with as low a risk as possible. In my view, that is the only responsible way to proceed.”
“And what if I am never able to pinpoint this exact date? It might take a thousand time jumps to find him.” Cecil’s lip began to tremble.
Tangeni tapped his palm on the tabletop. “Also, the time jump might not happen the same way without Billy. Surely we should have things as they were the first time, or as close as we can possibly get them.”
“All relevant arguments.” Adjusting her shawl over her shoulders, Miss Polperro rose daintily. “But I believe I have stated my case well enough. My objection stands. However you choose to proceed, I pray it is for the good of the camp, and not mere sentiment alone. We await your informed decision. Good night, gentlemen, Lieutenant Champlain.”
A single oil lamp burned for her on the embankment. They waited a few minutes until it disappeared with her up Bridge Street, then they continued their discussion.
Embrey piped up first. “I say, does anyone else have that smarting sensation, like they’ve just served detention? My knuckles feel thoroughly rapped.”
“Oh, she’s a piece of work alright,” Verity said. “And dangerous. I wouldn’t want her within ten eons of my children, if I ever have any. But at least we know what’s been bubbling in her cauldron all this while.”
“I’ve never heard anything so cold and calculating.” Tangeni belched and, after a silent rebuke from his captain, quickly apologized.
“To state the obvious, then, we’re not considering Whitehall’s proposal, even for a second?” The thought of Billy being snatched in the middle of the night by cowardly politicians made Cecil’s chest flame. What lethal action
wouldn’t
he take if that ever happened? None. He’d murder anyone by any means necessary to prevent them from abducting Edmond…
Billy
from him.
I swear to God, I will.
“That goes without saying, Professor. And I’d like to apologize for being short with you earlier. It was for her sake,” Verity said. “I wanted her to think I was open to any reasonable solution. It was the only way to get her to speak honestly. If we’d all shot her proposal down
before
she’d proposed it, I fear we’d now be hypothesizing rather than lamenting. She has shown her true colours—they all have. We are now fully primed.”
“Bravo, Verity!” Embrey raised his glass and flicked her a mischievous grin.
“And with that, I will bid you good night, gentlemen.” She yawned and left for her cabin before the men had a chance to stand up.
When she’d closed her door behind her, Embrey leaned over the table and whispered, “Let’s we three make a pact, then. Tangeni? Reardon? Let us promise to never leave Billy unguarded until all this is over. Verity has enough on her plate overseeing the camp. So whatever happens, at least one of
us
must stay with him at all times. Agreed?”
“I’m with you, Embrey.” Tangeni shook his hand. “Whatever happens, you have my word.”
The mellifluous amber light intensified both men’s gazes. Where a minute ago Cecil’s protective urge had been private, contained, it now blazed out into the night air with shared fierceness. Two of the best men he’d ever known were watching over Billy with him. A relieved tear slid down his trembling cheek.
Rather than wipe it away, he extended both hands to his friends across the table. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you both. Whatever happens, I will never forget it.”
