The Legend of Things Past (Beyond Pluto SciFi Futuristic Aventures Book 1) (6 page)

Donovan’s face was hot. “Why didn’t you tell me? Are you
saying that I caused this?”

“We’re not accusing you of anything. And, again, I can’t
tell you the details of what I know. Not yet.”

Donovan had to shake his head to clear away the fury. If he
didn’t calm himself and think rationally, he didn’t know what stupid things he
might say or do.

“How long?”

The General looked grim. “We don’t know. We hope we can
avoid this disaster altogether.”

“Are you looking for a cure? Sir, I don’t see how I can help
with this. I should be going after the people responsible.”

“You will. The cure is plan B. What we’ll be doing is
sending you back in time.”

“What?” Donovan was angry again in an instant. There was no
time for games. He didn’t understand what the General meant and didn’t have the
patience to listen to an explanation. He fought with the rage, tamping it down.

“Your grandfather successfully built a time machine back in
2170.”

“
2170?
But I worked with him on it. He didn’t have a
power source—”

“It’s likely that Tobias was testing you. To see if you
could figure out a solution on your own, like he had.”

Donovan was stunned. Time travel had been available this
whole time and his grandfather never shared it with him.

“When Tobias shared his invention with my predecessor, he
requested that Tobias not reveal it to anyone—that it remain a government
secret only to be used in the worst of times.”

“And as an employee of the government, of course, he had to
obey.”

“Yes—but it wasn’t by force. Tobias, I think, understood the
implications and possible consequences of time travel more than anyone. Only a
very few people know the technology exists—Tobias, the President of the United
States, the heads of all four branches of the military from 2170 onward—and now
you.”

There was a long pause. There wasn’t enough time to assess
all this—not enough time for him to wrap his mind around the idea of time
travel. What would happen if he went back in time and changed something that
wasn’t meant to be changed? Could he stop himself from ever existing? Could he
stop himself from ever having met his wife? Having children? Not just any
children but
his
children?

Now he understood what the General meant. It wasn’t about
sacrificing his life—it was about sacrificing his identity, his family, which
was far worse. But if he didn’t do this, then…

“Donovan,” the General said, “the world needs you now more
than ever. We have an idea of who’s behind this…”

“Who?”

The General tilted his head. There was an odd expression on
his face. Donovan was almost getting used to this new General—the one who had
facial expressions, who felt things, who paced the floor with such energy. He
thought that he might like him even.

“I can’t tell you that.” General McGregor looked—what? Sad?
Frustrated? “All of the details of this mission are classified until you
actually go back.”

“Go back to when?”

“I can’t tell you that either.”

Donovan restrained the urge to kick the desk. He drew in a
deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Okay,” he said, “When do I go?”

“Now.” The General tapped something on his palm and there
was a dim whirring sound to the right. The scenic picture of a boat on a lake
surrounded by mountains disappeared—there had never been a picture there to
begin with. It was just a projection.

Hidden behind the illusion was a small tubular room made of
metal. Donovan recognized the design from his grandfather’s prototypes. The
only difference was that this one glowed with a blue light—it worked.

The General motioned for him to step inside. Donovan became
very nervous. He wasn’t used to this—the unknown. He had always been able to
see his enemies clearly. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to do it. He hesitated in
front of the machine.

“I need to call my wife. Let her know that I’ll be gone…”

The look on General McGregor’s face gave him the answer.
“You can’t call her. Besides, if you fix things in the past, you’ll never be sent
on this mission.”

“But…”

“Brigadier General Knight…” Donovan was a little startled at
the General’s return to formality. The man’s face was perfectly neutral now. He
wondered where that other General had gone—and if he would ever see him again. “May
I remind you that the entire human race is relying on you? Including your wife
and children.”

Donovan straightened his shoulders and stepped inside the
machine. He looked at the General through the glass door. The General stared
gravely back.

“I’m transferring the brief to your watch. Do not open it
until you arrive at your destination.”

“Yes, sir.” Suddenly his watch seemed to burn at his side, a
secret nugget of information calling his name. “I don’t suppose you can tell me
where I’m going at least?”

The General’s lips twitched. Maybe that other guy was still
in there somewhere. “Nowhere… They’ll be expecting you.”

Before he could ponder this, the General tapped his palm and
Donovan was sucked into a whirlpool of white and blue light.

“The truth is, we’re all
cyborgs with cell phones and online identities.”

—Geoff Johns

May 4, 2176

Fort Belvoir, VA

Donovan Knight

Donovan felt as if he were being sucked down a drain. He was
being pulled so hard and so fast that he couldn’t move his body. He could do
nothing but sink into the terror of temporary paralysis. Any effort to shift
even an inch resulted in a strain in his muscles that left him weak.

He could do nothing but ride it out. His head was spinning,
then splitting. He felt pain beyond anything he had ever felt before—worse than
being shot with a fatal setting on an electron gun, worse than third degree burns
from explosions, worse than having his face cut open by a nine-year-old. He
didn’t know what to do with the agony—he blacked out.

When Donovan came to, the motion of the time machine had
slowed. His brain seemed to expand under his skull, to pulsate as if to the
ticking of a clock. Tick-throb, tock-throb. Exhausted from the pain that had
ripped through him, he drifted back into unconsciousness.

When he woke the second time, he stayed awake. The time machine
had come almost to a stop. The feeling now resembled a descending elevator that
slowly rotated. The white and blue blur that surrounded him began to fade in places,
revealing human faces. But the spinning kept any of them from becoming clear.

Finally, the machine stopped and the whirlwind of light died.

At first, Donovan thought that the time machine hadn’t
worked and was angry and sick at the thought that he would have to endure
another trip like that. Then he realized that the office outside the time
machine was similar to the one he had left but not exactly the same. There was
a desk in the same place, but it was different desk. The same plant in the far
corner, but it was much shorter. And the man leaning against the desk looking
at him was not General McGregor.

The doors to the time machine opened and Donovan reluctantly
exited.

He stood before a man of medium height. A Caucasian man, balding
slightly, dressed in a General’s uniform. He had a thick, bristly, white
mustache to match his hair. This man held the same position as General McGregor
in the present—or future? He supposed technically this
was
the present.

“Brigadier General Knight,” the man said. After dealing so
long with the booming voice of General McGregor, this man’s voice seemed
absurdly weak.

Donovan fought the urge to laugh at him.

“I’ve been expecting you. Please sit down,” the
past—present—General said as he took his own seat behind the desk.

Donovan sat, having an intense sensation of déjà vu.

“I am General Cornelius Umar, predecessor to General
Hesekiel McGregor. It is my understanding that you will be briefing me—and a
small team that I will personally select—about this case. I received a message
from General McGregor, but I’m afraid he didn’t give me very many details. All
I know is that there is a biological threat that needs to be prevented.”

“I’ll be briefing the both of us, sir,” Donovan replied. “I
don’t know much, myself. I was sent here on the condition that I know nothing
about the mission until I arrived. Speaking of which, what year is this?”

“2180.” General Umar said.

“Eighty-two years.” Donovan could not comprehend that he had
actually travelled back that amount of time.

“Yes. Quite a long time ago, eh?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Shall we get started?” General Umar looked expectant.

“Oh—yes—the information is here on my watch, sir.”

“Your watch?” General Umar said. “They still have watches eighty-two
years from now? I would have thought they’d come up with something new by then.”

“They have,” Donovan said. “They’re called Liao Inserts—a
watch inside your body, basically. It requires a minor surgery—they insert tiny
pieces into your hands and ear. The screen appears on your palm—or palms, if
you hold them together to get a bigger screen.

“Inserts are connected to everything, but so is my watch—it’s
my phone, the key to my car and my house, my credit card, my full time nurse,
and my black clearance card that enabled me to be sent back in time.”

Those last words felt absurd coming out of his mouth.
Sent
back in time.

“We still use watches for all that, too—except the nurse
thing. We don’t have that kind of technology yet. What does it do, monitor your
heartbeat?”

“Yes, and my blood. It can do that without breaking the
skin. So it catches illnesses before they fully develop. With technology like
that, I don’t think Inserts are all that necessary for me.”

General Umar’s eyes were round like a child’s. “Fascinating.
I would love to learn more about 2258, but I’m afraid this isn’t the
appropriate time. We have more important matters to attend to. Can you send the
brief to me?”

“Sure.” Donovan scanned through the screen on his watch
until he found the brief in his inventory. He pulled up his email and typed in
the address that General Umar gave him. He hit send and waited for the high-pitched
ping
that meant it had gone through. Instead, the watch beeped rapidly
three times. A notice appeared:

ACTION
RESTRICTED

General Umar nodded. “I guess General McGregor doesn’t want
that stuck in the past for someone to find. Fair enough. You have text reader
on that watch I presume?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Let’s hear it. Then I will decide who would be best to
assign to this case.”

Donovan selected the file and expanded it until a 3D version
floated in front of him. He would read along with the audio.

He hit the play button. General McGregor’s voice came
through clearly, as if he were standing right next to them.

Good
evening, General Umar, Brigadier General Knight. I’m General Hesekiel McGregor,
four-star general in command of the United States Army and Space Force in the
year 2258.

This
is a highly classified information brief. No one outside the addressees may
know the contents of this file except by the disclosure of General Umar. No
copies shall be made of this brief for any reason. The purpose of this briefing
is to bring you up to date on the investigation of the biological attacks on
the United States, which spread to the entirety of the human race between the
years 2223 and 2258.

The years 2223 to 2258 marked the exact time that Donovan
had spent in the army.

This
investigation has its roots in the discovery of a benign virus that attached
itself to the genes of one Private Donovan Knight.

General Umar gave him an accusing look. Donovan didn’t meet
his eye. If General Umar didn’t like that, then he certainly wouldn’t like what
was coming next. It seemed General Umar was willing to wait patiently until the
recording finished—he didn’t make a sound, though his face became stonier as
each word spilled out of Donovan’s watch.

We
kept an eye on Donovan from that day forward. For many years it seemed that the
virus would remain harmless. However, in 2228, we began to find affected genes
in other soldiers. We called for an immediate quarantine, but the virus
continued to spread in spite of our efforts.

Donovan remembered that. He had been infuriated when the
army soldiers burst into his home, frightening his children with their
alien-like masks. They lined the walls with a biologically impenetrable plastic
and sealed them off. They were stuck there for weeks. The army provided cheap
groceries when their food ran out. They ate beans and vegetables out of cans
for a month before they were allowed to leave the apartment again.

There
were reports that doctors were discovering it in the genes of civilians as
well. In a matter of weeks, thousands of people were infected. It was clear
that the quarantine was pointless so we terminated it.

Top
government officials, including myself, consulted on the issue and we decided
that there would be an ongoing investigation into the source of the virus. The
first known case was Private Donovan Knight, who had since been promoted to Staff
Sergeant. We kept a very close eye on his movements and on his blood, but there
was nothing suspicious about him or any of his acquaintances. We’d thought that
an enemy of Donovan’s had possibly done this to him—maybe the person was hiding
in plain sight, pretending to be his friend. But we found nothing. The virus
remained dormant.

Donovan was a little disturbed that General McGregor had had
him spied on for so many years, that he hadn’t told Donovan that the virus had
spread. Didn’t the General trust him?

Staff
Sergeant Knight was cleared as the source of the virus when I received a
message in the time machine in 2233. It read: “It’s not Donovan. Investigate
Tobias Knight.” It was signed “Code T.M.A.C.P.U.—May 31, 2258”

Donovan paused the feed. He stared at General Umar, who gave
him a quizzical look.

“Tobias Knight? Are you two…?”

Donovan didn’t want to say it out loud, didn’t want to believe
what he’d just heard, but the words came out of his mouth as if of their own
accord. “He’s my grandfather.”

The General frowned. “Your grandfather? If that’s true then
why did General McGregor assign you to this case? You’re too close.”

Donovan just shook his head.
What the hell was going on
here?
“I don’t know. Like I told you, I didn’t know what the mission was
about until now. I don’t know what General McGregor was thinking. Maybe there’s
an answer somewhere in the brief. There has to be an explanation.”

“Are you all right?” General Umar said. “You look like
you’re going to be sick.”

Donovan was. He felt his stomach churning with nausea. He
didn’t feel like himself. He wasn’t usually this reactive. He took a deep
breath and gathered his emotions under control. “I’m fine.”

General Umar looked skeptical.

“I’m okay. I just—that was unexpected.”

“I daresay.”

“It can’t be true. My grandfather would never do this.”

Where was the proof? If they were going to accuse his
grandfather, they had to at least present evidence.

“We can continue when you feel ready. But if it gives you
any comfort, your grandfather will be okay for now—he’s innocent until proven
guilty. He would still have to go to trial.”

“It’s not his safety I’m worried about, it’s his name.” His
grandfather was no longer in a position to defend himself.

The General raised his eyebrows. “The best way to defend his
name is to get to the bottom of this virus. I know Tobias personally—I never
would have guessed he’d do something like this. But they wouldn’t send a
message to the past for nothing. We have to complete the mission. Then we’ll
know what’s what.”

Donovan, seeing no way around it, pressed the play button,
trying his best to listen objectively. He had to come up with his grandfather’s
defense. Whatever evidence they had—it was wrong. He would find some way to
dispute it.

As
General Umar already knows, the acronym stands for Time Manipulation and
Catastrophe Prevention Unit. The members of this Unit at all times are the
President of the United States, the Four-Star General of the U.S. Army and
Space Force, the Lieutenant General of the U.S. Marines, the Admiral Chief of
the U.S. Navy, and the U.S. General Air Force Chief of Staff.

Brigadier
General Knight, the second you became aware of the existence of time travel, you
were inducted into this unit. There are strict laws governing the use of time
travel, and I expect you to familiarize yourself with them A.S.A.P. I attached
another file to your watch for this purpose.

I had
no idea at the time, but now I can only guess that the T.M.A.C.P.U. message was
sent to me by a future version of myself—it’s dated only a few weeks from today—which
means that I’m going to be running into trouble really soon.

When I
received the message twenty-five years ago, I assembled the T.M.A.C.P.U. We
followed the order on the message. We investigated Tobias Knight and pretended
to still investigate Staff Sergeant Knight for the sake of appeasing the
nation’s leaders, who had no knowledge of the message. We didn’t find anything
at first. Tobias led a completely normal life—for a genius scientist. For years
we almost convinced ourselves that he was innocent. But the message from the
future couldn’t have been a mistake. We kept investigating.

In
2232, Tobias began to lose his memory. He faltered for long minutes when he
gave talks and speeches around the world. Sometimes, he wouldn’t even recognize
his own family.

In
2238, Tobias was admitted to the permanent psychiatric ward at Providence Saint
John’s Hospital. The doctors couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him. We
became ever more doubtful that Tobias was the source of the virus. He came up
clean everywhere we looked.

It
took years of digging. We had to track down old friends, who were few, and
family, who were all dead. The clues finally led us to what we were looking
for.

In
2241, we discovered Tobias’s secret lab. In it, we found documents that
revealed that he experimented with cloning and the creation of human-friendly
viruses, both of which activities are illegal. In addition, we discovered
underdeveloped relatives to the benign virus that now plagues us. There were
detailed design plans and manuals for Liao Inserts. That’s how he did it—he
hacked those systems and programmed them to construct the virus directly inside
the body. Those who had Inserts, which was nearly everyone, had the virus.
Those who didn’t were virus-free. We suspect that he gave it to Brigadier
General Knight directly.