The Encounter (11 page)

              “A lot has happened today”, she said. Let’s get some rest. We'll figure something out."

              He started taking off his shoes. "What's to figure out? There's bound to be a ranger station, a road or something. And if these guys could show up any minute, you think it’s a good idea to take a nap?"

              She knew it would take the Vergon a while to track her down. “We’re not gonna get very far stumbling around in the dark.” She needed time to think things through. It would be a risk she would have to take.

She slipped out of her flight suit. Under it was a one piece, skin tight, under garment that left nothing, but skin tone, to the imagination.

He lost his train of thought. "Ah, yeah... We'll find a town. I'll get cash from an ATM and we're on our way?"

              She raised her voice. "Bring the lights down." The lights dimmed in the cabin.

              She stretched out on the pallet. "Get some rest." She said, as she rolled onto her side away from him.

              "This thing responses to English?"

              "It does now. Go to sleep."

              He stretched out on his back and looked around. The pallet wasn't bad, but he wasn't really sleepy. He suddenly remembered why. It was the middle of the day or it should have been.

              He rose up on one elbow. "Hey, how come it got dark so quick?"

              She didn't answer. He watched her for a moment. She didn't move. Maybe it had something to do with the ship. A lot of strange things had happened since breakfast. She was asleep or ignoring him probably the latter. He lay back down and closed his eyes.

              She wasn't asleep. She just hadn't felt like dealing with the truth just yet. The truth was, there weren't any ATM’s or ranger stations in Wyoming, in eighteen seventy-five.

                                                        ***

              Lawrence slept for a couple of hours. The warm room temperature woke him up. He was soaked. He sat up. Margaret was on her back. He watched her for a moment. She looked like she was comfortable. He was too warm. He eased off the pallet and stood for a moment wondering where the thermostat was.

              He remembered the computer. "Hey computer..." He said quietly. "Computer... If you're there, lower the temperature about ten degrees."

              It didn't answer and he couldn't tell if it did anything. It was still warm. He looked back at her. She hadn't moved. He looked at his watch. It read, 2:30 pm. How could it be dark outside? If anything, Wyoming was an hour earlier. He thought about waking her up to talk about it, then decided against it. God, how could she sleep with it so warm?

              He slipped off his shirt. By human standards he was in pretty good shape and looked it. In her hands he'd been little more than a child. He dropped the shirt and slipped out of his pants. That helped some. She rolled on her side, facing him. Her eyes never opened. He lay back down and watched her for a moment. He wished she'd wake up so they could talk. That apparently wasn't going to happen. He rolled away from her and tried to go back to sleep.

              She opened her eyes and watched his back. What was she going to do? For the first time in her life she was really frightened. It wasn't a good feeling.

                                                        ***

              What woke Lawrence this time was movement in the cabin. He opened his eyes, rolled on his back and glanced around. Margaret was gone. There was light coming down the passageway leading to the open hatch. He sat up and looked for his clothes. They were gone. In their place was a pair of rough-cut cotton pants, a shirt to match and a leather belt. On top of all of it was a pair of Long Johns.

              He moved the Long Johns and picked up the shirt. What the hell was all this, he thought? At the foot of the pallet in the place of his shoes sat a pair of soft leather boots.

              "Where are you", He yelled? What the hell was she up to now. "What've you done with my clothes”?

              Her voice came from outside. "Out here."

              He dropped the shirt, picked up the pants and slipped them on. Enough was enough. It was time for some answers.

              Lawrence stepped into the hatchway wearing just the pants. She was squatting down facing away watching the woods. Her clothing was similar.

              "You wanta tell me what the hell's really goin' on?" He looked at his watch. It read, 8:22 pm. "What's happened to the time? How'd we lose twelve hours?

              Margaret hadn't moved. "I wish twelve hours was all we lost."

              "What is that suppose to mean?"

              She stood and walked toward him. "I don't know another way to say this." She stopped in front of him. "One of the things that makes your planetary system so special is that
tear
I took us through. Simply put, it folds time. It acts as a gateway to the past.”

              He had to laugh at that one. Then his face became very serious. “Get real.”

              Her face said she was dead serious.

              “The past. You’re talking time travel? You can travel through time?”

              “It was the only choice. This ship was outclassed and out gunned.”

              There was a little quake in his voice. “How far, a week, a month, a year?” He looked at what she was wearing, “a hundred years?”

              She hesitated. "About a hundred and twenty-two, more or less."

              "A hundred... More or less." His mind went blank for a second. He slowly sat down in the hatchway. For a moment nobody said anything. "You're telling me, we're stuck here and you can't fix it. What do you usually do when you
can't
fix it? Call the intergalactic Triple A."

              "I'm sorry, this has never happened to me before."

              He got to his feet. "I drive a car, but I know how to change a tire." His frustration was showing. "Why is it, women never know how to change a tire?"

              She was becoming a little pissed herself. After all, none of this was her fault. Well, almost none of it. "I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say. I can't stay here. You certainly can't stay here. Right now there's just nothing we can do about it."

              He turned and walked back inside.

She followed him. “Incidentally I can change a tire.”

              Lawrence walked to his pallet and sat down. She went to the replicater.

              He picked up the long underwear. "What time of year is it?" He asked.

              "March eighteenth", she answered. "Why?"

              "Just wondering if I need the long underwear." He stood up and started taking his pants off.

              She punched in something on the panel, and then watched him change his underwear. His butt was almost as white as hers.

              He looked back. "You mind?"

              She smiled and faced the panel. She'd asked the replicater for something. He couldn't make out what it was. At least the sizes were right. He continued to dress.

              The replicater opened. She took out what she'd requested and turned around. He was buttoning the shirt. He looked at her. She was holding a handgun and a box of cartridges.

              He tucked the shirt in. "What's that for?

              She walked toward him. "This is a pretty wild time in your history. I thought we might need something for protection. Can you use this?"

              He took the gun from her. She sat the box down. He eased the hammer back, opened the breach and spun the cylinder. It was empty. "A colt 44-40. Not much range. What about a gun belt?”

“Okay.” She moved back over to the replicater.

“Something a little newer than what they used in this day and time.”

She spoke to the replicater and it produced a modern day holster and gun belt. She handed them to him.

              She was about to caution him that just being here was risky. Taking a life could change Earth's history forever even threaten his very existence. She relaxed a little, when he brought it up on his own.

              "You know what happens if we do anything that changes the future?" He holstered the gun. "One of us could be in a lotta trouble."

              "I know. It's risky for both of us. We need to avoid trouble if we can."

              "How could changing my past affect you?"

"Think about it. You might not be there to rescue me."

She had a point.

She sat on her pallet, pulled a large bag in front of her and began rummaging around inside it. Lawrence began strapping on the gun belt. He walked back to his pallet.

              "What are you packin' ma'am", he ask, putting down the box?

              She looked up and said, "Nothing. It's already packed."

              He smiled and began tying down the holster. "No, I meant, are you armed?"

              She reached into the bag and brought out a weapon similar to the one carried by the Bounty Hunters.

              "Well, it's nice to know one of us is hi-tech." He began pulling on his boots.

              Margaret returned the weapon and pulled out another device. She activated it. A map projected into the air above them. "There's a town about twelve miles northeast of here."

              "I thought we needed to avoid people."

              "We need supplies. More than we can carry from here. There's no telling how long this is gonna take. We'll get what we need, then head up into the mountains."

              He was ready. She turned the map off and put it away. "Go outside." She said. "I've got to secure the ship before we can leave."

              He picked up the box of ammunition and walked toward the hatch. She watched until he was gone. He was taking all this a lot better than she thought he would.

              Lawrence walked away from the ship filling his gun belt from the box. When he finished that, he loaded and holstered the gun. A 44-40 was black power. It was designed to use the same round as the Seventy-three Winchester rifle. A man wouldn't have to carry two different cartridges. Ballisticlly, it stunk.

              He reached down, lifted the gun out of the holster and let it drop back. In less than a breath he drew and cocked the pistol. He let the hammer down and twirled it back into the holster; He drew and cocked it again.

              "Looks impressive, but can you hit anything with it?" She was standing behind him carrying her bag and a canteen.

              He looked over his shoulder, then to his left and right. He pointed to his right. "See the sapling?" There was a small sapling about thirty feet to his right.

              She watched as he squared up on the little tree. He paused for a second, then drew and fired. The blast echoed through the trees. She turned away from the report, holding her ears. The tree was severed. The top half flew into the air. He fanned a second shot. The top half was splintered and flew into the brush. He looked at the gun in his hand.

              "You're just full of surprises." She said.

              "It's a hobby of mine. Your replicater did a very good job, maybe too good if someone gets a close look. With an original, I would've been lucky to hit the ground." He holstered the gun.

              "Well, let's hope you don't need to use it at all." She stepped away from the ship. The opening disappeared and with it, all trace of the ship. "I can't take a chance someone'll stumble onto it. I'll have to leave it cloaked."

              "That uses energy, right? Could help the bad guys."

              She was carrying her bag. "It doesn't use much." She joined him.

              Something occurred to him. "You know, why would they even look? Unless they know you're broken down you could be half way across the galaxy by now."

              "They know. Even if the equipment was still working, you can’t move more than a light-year in any direction and there’s only one way out. By now they know it isn't working. I'm not going anywhere and they know it." She looked up. "They know I'm here, somewhere. Come on, we've got a long walk." She pointed. "That way."

              She handed him the canteen and they walked away together. By now he was sure he wasn't going to just wake up.

                                                        ***

              The Leader of the Vergon bounty hunters sat in front of a communication console. The image of the political enemy of Margaret’s father was on the screen. “We were unaware of this portal. The link is gone. Wherever she is, she’s no longer a moving target.”

              The image on the screen was not interested in hearing this. “I’m not paying for near misses, or excuses. I assume you have the technology to follow her. You have four days to have her standing in front of me, or I’ll terminate this contract and as I understand it, the contract isn’t the only thing in danger of termination.”