“Precisely,” the general and doctor spoke together.
“Wait, you don’t mean …?”
“That’s precisely what we mean,” Dr. Lee said with emphasis. “This equipment can transport people back in time. In point of fact, we wish you to travel to 71 BC when we know for certain the lupus ridens still existed.”
Felix almost laughed. These people were talking gibberish. The past was gone, over and done with. Aceticus, Spartacus, Marcus Crassus — these figures had been dust for two thousand years and any attempt to visit them would be like attempting to bring the dead back to life.
But Dr. Lee was talking. He was saying the TPM was like a Dispersion Portal, only in addition to mere spatial coordinates, the passenger would enter a precise date as well, past, present, or future.
He also explained how they knew the TPM was functional. One month before the virus erupted, a rat had been placed in the TPM and the coordinates set for London in 1665. Before entering the device the rat had been healthy; upon emerging it was carrying the bubonic plague. There was only one possible explanation: because the plague had existed in seventeenth-century London, the rat had been projected back in time.
“If we can send a rat,” Dr. Lee concluded, “we can send a human being as well, although we haven’t actually done this yet.”
“But … why me?” Felix gasped.
“Two reasons,” the general broke in. “First, it requires too much power to send an adult back. The TPM can handle a separate mass of maximum seventy kilograms.”
“More important,” Dr. Lee continued, “your Latin is excellent and you can speak to the locals.”
“Why not send someone with an auto-translator?”
“Impossible!” Dr. Lee exclaimed. “The TPM can’t handle metal or plastic. These substances would reflect the high-speed particles and trigger a thermonuclear explosion. If you agree to this mission, your equipment will be minimal.”
“Normally we wouldn’t ask you to run such risks,” the general said, “but frankly, we’re desperate. We’re far from discovering a cure for the virus, and it’s just a matter of time before everyone comes down with the plague. If you don’t find this flower, and I mean soon, as a species, we will vanish from the face of the earth.”
“The mission should be simple,” Dr. Lee added. “We’ll send you to a temple near Panarium — that’s the town Aceticus mentions in his book — you’ll venture outside, find the lupus ridens, hurry to a portal and return to the present.”
“And you won’t be alone,” the general declared, “My daughter Carolyn will tag along. She doesn’t speak Latin but she has certain … skills.”
“When would I leave?” Felix asked.
“Our device is powered by the sun,” the doctor answered. “As temporal projection requires vast quantities of power, it must occur when the sun is at an angle of optimum impact. This will happen in twelve hours and eighteen minutes.”
“Will you help us, Felix?” the general pleaded.
Aware he had no choice in the matter, Felix nodded his assent.
Chapter Six
The deadline was looming. General Manes was giving the TPM a last inspection; Dr. Lee was prepping medications in a lab; and the professor was looking after “travel arrangements.” Because Carolyn had vanished without explanation, Felix was left to wander the station on his own.
As he walked about aimlessly, his thoughts turned to their mission. How much danger lay ahead of them? Would the TPM roast them to cinders? If they reached the past, would they make it back alive? Most important, would they find the lupus ridens? Billions of people depended on their efforts, yet their chances of success were just about zero.
To distract himself from these depressing thoughts, Felix paused before a large, sliding door. From behind it there came the sound of … cracking, followed by the pattering of feet. Curious, he opened the door and walked onto a “halo” court.
“Duck!” Carolyn cried.
Instinctively he dropped to his knees and a cringed as a “halo” ball whistled past him. Rubberized, three inches wide and containing circuitry at its core, it was programmed to “attack” any figure in the vicinity. The purpose of the game was to avoid the ball by bouncing off the padded walls and employing a series of complex gymnastics. Felix was pretty good at the game and could usually last well over a minute. But that was nothing compared to Carolyn’s performance.
Instead of one ball, she had five in play. Each was set on maximum speed. The game should have been impossible, but Carolyn was dodging all five “halos” with ease, by contorting her limbs, climbing the walls and performing flips, cartwheels, and jumps — twice she leapt eight feet in the air. When she scaled one wall, dropped to the mat, rolled across the room and hopped to her feet, Felix raised a hand in disbelief. His gesture caused two balls to attack.
“Ow!”
“Stop!” Carolyn yelled. The halos fell to the mat.
“Are you okay?” she panted. She was dressed in a Zylex suit whose light green shimmer matched her eye colouring.
“I’m fine,” Felix replied, massaging his arm. “Those balls pack a wallop.”
“Personally, I find them slow for my taste.”
“Have you undergone alpha-wave adjustment?”
“Of course. How else do you think I could move so quickly?”
“And did I see signs of combat training …?”
“I’ve mastered fifteen martial arts.”
She said this matter-of-factly, as if her skills were commonplace. Felix had more questions to ask, but a voice addressed them on the room’s intercom.
“Felix and Carolyn,” Doctor Lee spoke up. “Could you come to my office? We have some details to go over.”
“We’re on our way,” Carolyn replied, stepping to the exit. As she crossed the threshold, she yelled, “Attack!” Instantly the balls came alive and, if Felix hadn’t leaped outside, they would have pummeled him senseless. Carolyn smirked.
A minute later they joined the doctor. A quiet man by nature — his ERR only heightened his shyness — he led them over to two “treatment” stations. As soon as they were seated, their blood chemistry was scanned. A robotic arm with needles appeared and injected them a dozen times over — with anti-viral compounds, blood-coagulants, vitamin supplements and other chemical “boosters.”
With these meds dispensed, they followed the doctor to a glassed-in cubicle. At his command, three chairs rose up from the floor. And then a glowing, twelve-inch sphere rolled beside them and floated in the air until it reached eye level.
“Italy, 71 BC,” the doctor announced.
The sphere projected a 3D map, which filled the room. Felix recognized Italy’s boot-shaped outline; but instead of the Common Speak names for its cities, the ancient Latin ones appeared — Roma, Tarentum, Neapolis, and others.
“Panarium,” the doctor spoke, causing the globe to project two maps this time. One showed Rome with its famous seven hills and, farther to the east, a town named Panarium. The second showed a town with the exact same name, only it was a hundred miles south of the first.
“As you can see,” the doctor said, “There are two Panariums. While Aceticus is precise in most regards, he doesn’t state which Panarium the flower can be found in. We’ll hazard a guess and dispatch you to the one nearest Rome. If we’re wrong, you’ll return to us and we’ll send you to the second one, or the town closest to it. Okay?”
They