The Paradox Initiative (21 page)

“A
Time Traveler?”
Kestrel repeated, her heart staggering before fluttering erratically.

“Yes,”
Anthony nodded. “That is the only explanation. No surgeon is even
taught
that technique anymore—it’s considered abrasive and cosmetically ugly. Our stitches are invisible, and have been for more than a hundred years.
His
…” He gestured to the door, then shook his head. “As I said, it is the only explanation.”

“What are you going to do?” Kestrel wondered, her blood turning to ice. Anthony sighed.

“I believe you are ignorant of his crimes. I can see it on your face. Which is why I want to do all I can to spare you.”

Kestrel blinked.

“What?”

“I’m calling the ship’s authorities
to come and arrest him,” Anthony told her. “They will hold him in the detention block and take him back to Earth to be tried. If you can keep him here until they come in a few minutes, you won’t be arrested or implicated as an accomplice.”

Kestrel couldn’t do anything but stare at him. Anthony gave her a soft look.

“It’s clear you don’t know your husband, Mrs. Johnson. Please do the right thing now.”

He reached out and touched her
chin, giving her a long, steady look—then passed her and strode away down the corridor. And as he did, he lifted a communicator to his mouth and murmured into it.

Kestrel’s entire body
went cold. For an endless moment, she couldn’t see anything in front of her. The ground seemed to be tilting underneath her feet—and there wasn’t enough air. She reached out her left hand and fumbled for the door release…

It opened before she touched it. Her head came around.

Wolfe stood just inside, his hand on the inside button, his head bowed. Her hand suspended. He lifted a sideways look to her. And that pain and sorrow filled his frame again.

“Come here,
Brown Eyes,” he murmured, taking hold of her fingers and tugging. “I need to talk to you.”

Numbly, she followed his lead—then snapped back to the moment. She gripped his fingers. He stopped, turning toward her.

“They’re…They’re coming to arrest you—” she gasped.

“I know,” he nodded.

“But there’s—”

“
Nothing I can do,” Wolfe said, dropping her hand. “That doctor’s had me pegged since the second he saw me.”

“
What?
” Kestrel cried. “Pegged for—”

“He told me what he just told you,” Wolfe cut in. “He sent me back to
the cabin to make sure I didn’t cause a scene in the hospital—endanger other patients.” Wolfe’s voice quieted. “And he told me that if I cooperate, he’ll leave you out of it.”

“But you can’t just—” Kestrel tried.

“He’s put out a ship-wide warrant,” Wolfe said. “They’ll come after me in less than five minutes.” His jaw tightened. “And there’s something I have to tell you before they do.”

Kestrel fell silent, bewildered. Wolfe gazed at her a moment, then
turned and strode toward the opposite wall, setting his hands on his hips. He stopped, and lowered his head again. He ran a hand through his hair, then raised his head—but his whole body seemed to ache.

“I was bor
n…” he began, his voice low. “June 15
th
, 1842, in St. Louis, Missouri. I didn’t have any brothers or sisters—lots of cousins, though. I lived with my parents in a huge white house not far from the river. I went to school at Harvard University. Studied law.” He stopped, his head reflexively coming around—and she saw sharp anguish written on his profile. He smoothed it, and went on. “While I was there, my parents…My parents died in a skirmish between the Northern and Southern armies. Both of them. In the same afternoon.”

Kestrel wrapped her arms around herse
lf, standing completely still, hardly daring to breathe. He went on.

“So I
left school and joined the Second Massachusetts Cavalry . Got shot at Cedar Creek, in Shenandoah. Here.” He faced her, and rubbed the upper left part of his chest. The place where Dr. Anthony had said he’d seen a puncture scar. “President Lincoln gave me a medal.” He put his hand in his pocket, fumbled around, and pulled out two jingling pieces of metal dangling from ribbons. His jaw muscles clenching, he divided them and held one out to her. Kestrel took it. Its worn surface sat lightly in her palm, the ragged, faded ribbon draped over her fingers. A star, with a wreath around it. Her lip trembled.

“After the war, I lived in Boston for a while,” he continued. “That’s where I met Adelaide.”

Kestrel’s head came up. He was studying his other medal, rubbing his thumb across it.

“I thought she was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen. Hair like sunshine,” he said. “She and I both hated city life, even though she’
d been born there. We wanted some fresh air. Different scenery. So we got married and headed west. Bought a claim in Kansas. Built a homestead, started raising cattle.” He fell silent. He stopped moving. “We’d lived there for about a year when they came.”

Kestrel closed her fingers around the medal she held. He did the same to the one in his hand. He stared at the floor.

“Ada was inside the house, cooking supper. I’d just finished splitting some logs and had headed down to the creek to wash up when three…Three machines showed up out of nowhere. About eight feet tall, each of them. Shining metal. Two men stepped out of each one. They were dressed strangely—all in tight black suits, wearing helmets that covered their faces. They had weapons. I ran back to the house and got my Colt and my rifle and came out and confronted them. I told Ada to stay in the house. The men told me they didn’t want a fight, but they’d shoot me if I didn’t put my gun down. I told them they were on my land, and
they
ought to put down
their
guns. They refused. I shot at the ground by their feet. Everything escalated. They aimed at my house. I shot one of the men. Then they all shot at me. I shot three more of them dead before running out of ammunition in my rifle. Then, one of the men got off a shot at my house. A bright, green beam. Like lightning. It swallowed the…the whole house. I got up and ran to it.”

Wolfe
stopped. He rubbed his thumb back and forth, back and forth across that medal.

“She died,” he whispered roughly—and Kestrel
saw his eyes shining. He stood for a long moment, his throat locked, his thumb tapping the medal. Then he reached up with one hand and wiped his face. Pain ate up the inside of Kestrel’s chest.

“
The house blew apart and she died,” Wolfe breathed. “And I fell into one of the open machines and the door shut.”

“You…” Kestrel tried. “You
did
time travel.”

He nodded, his head still low.

“Not on purpose, but yeah.” He shifted his weight. “I went into a sort of…coma, I guess. And when I woke up, the machine was standing still. It opened, and I came out…into someplace else.” He frowned down at the medal in his hand. “I don’t have time to go into details, but…Everything had changed. I was in the 1960’s. Wandered around for a while, fell in with a crowd. I was so…So sick. Angry. I wound up taking a man’s place in the draft. I went to Vietnam. I fought. I’d already been a soldier in hell—this was different, but not new. And I was good. They saw that. I started taking the most dangerous assignments—ones that the other guys wouldn’t take because they were scared they wouldn’t come back. Sure enough, in the middle of a raid in the pitch black jungle, I got shot. Died. Heart stopped and everything. I thought I was…But they got me to a mobile hospital and resuscitated me on the table.” He chuckled, and shook his head. “I coulda strangled that doctor.”

Tears pricked Kestrel’s eyes. She drew a little closer,
her knees weak, and sank down on the armrest of one of the chairs. Wolfe stayed where he was, then held out the other medal to her.

“Got a purple heart for that one.”

Kestrel took it listlessly, feeling it almost sear her hand as echoes of his screams rang through her mind. George Washington’s features had been all but rubbed out.

“Also picked up smoking during that stint.
Didn’t really give it up till now,” he added. “I, uh…They shipped me back to the states. After six total months had passed, the machine lit up again. I realized then that I had to get on it. I figured it was set to some sort of automatic recall—that it was heading back to its own time. Maybe in increments, but sure and steady. I knew it would eventually take me to the man who’d murdered my wife. So I got on. This time, it took me to the year 2050. I didn’t have an ID or anything, so I was forced underground. Took a job as a cage fighter. I think I told you about that.” For the first time in an age, he looked at Kestrel. Her heart skipped a beat. He went on, rubbing his left inside forearm.

“I got my tattoos then: Vengeance and J
ustice. That’s what I was after. I knew if I found the man who had done this to Ada, I could make him undo it. But I was getting myself bloodied every night, and not learning anything. If I ever said anything to anybody about time travel, they looked at me like I was crazy. Except Robert Conrad.” He almost smiled. “He found me down there—literally picked me up off the mat where I was bleeding all over. Told me that a gentleman like me didn’t belong in that pit. He hired me as a personal bodyguard. Fed me, clothed me, gave me a place to stay. And he believed me. He was the first person who did. He helped me take the machine off the prairie and into a warehouse of his. I was the only one who had the key to it. He was my friend.” Wolfe put his hands in his pockets. “But I only stayed there for six months, again. Then I had to move forward. And it landed me in 2142. In that same warehouse. I tracked down one of Robert’s descendants: Eddie Conrad. Robert had passed word down about me. Eddie hired me right away—taught me to race bikes in an arena. I won a lot of races for him. He was an enterpriser, Eddie. Dangerous that way. We weren’t really friends. I didn’t tell him where the machine was. But he needed me around so…And it kept food on my table. And I listened. But I still didn’t hear anything about my time traveler.” He sighed. “After six months, I traveled again. To 2234. Found the next Conrad: Ethan. Worked at a bouncer at several of his clubs on the east coast. Kept my ear to the ground the whole time, but people still thought the time travel thing was ridiculous. Next time, it landed me in 2326—and this Conrad, David, was a good man. Used his family’s resources to fight human trafficking. I helped him as an advisor and right-hand-man. Another six months, though, I had to leave. I still hadn’t heard anything, and the machine was going to leave without me if I didn’t get on.” His tone changed. “It wasn’t until 2418, the very next stop, that I got my first scent of a trail. I found the next Conrad: Peter. Started working for him in his illegal night clubs. I didn’t like it, but I could hear the chatter from there. Pretty soon I started sensing trouble around my employer. I rode a bike to escort him places. Built it myself. Light, fast, smooth engine. Somebody came at him, out in the street. I had to lay out my bike to take them out. Tore open my whole side.”

Kestrel swallowed, remembering the long scar on his back. Wolfe’s face hardened.

“That’s when I found out it was meant to be a double hit. Somebody had paid
Conrad
to kill
me
, but he’d been waiting for some reason. Got cold feet. So the person who bribed him decided to kill us both in one go. Conrad told me the name of the man: William Jakiv. And I told
Conrad
that he owed me his life, and I
would
come to collect someday.” Wolfe’s brow darkened. “After I healed, I searched every avenue I knew. But there was no such person on the planet named William Jakiv. That’s when I realized I’d found him.” Wolfe finally glanced at Kestrel. “The next time I traveled, Conrad’s warehouses weren’t there anymore. They’d been built over by the KCSP. So I landed in your back room, stepped out and…” He almost smiled again. “I saw you. And you were the
first
person to look me in the eye and tell me that time-travel was possible. Now all I have to do is find Jakiv and force him to send me back, before the time he arrived. I’ll get Ada away from the house, and when they show up neither of us will be there. And she’ll be alive again.”

Kestrel just sat there. Looking up at him. Holding both his medals limply in one hand.

“You don’t wear a wedding ring.”

They were the wrong words. So many others spun and whirled an
d tumbled through her mind, but these were the only ones that just fell out of her mouth.

He looked at her. His gaze flickered.

“I…Couldn’t wear one on the farm,” he answered. “Ada wears one, though.” He swallowed. “Wore.” He shifted again, his expression turning earnest. “Look, Kestrel…”

The sound of her name, in his voice, sent a thrill
through her whole body. And it
hurt
.

She squirmed, trying to bite it back, but it grew. She had to
turn away from him. He stopped.

Bzz.

Kestrel twitched. Wolfe sucked his breath and faced the door. He slowly pulled his hands out of his pockets.