Solfleet: The Call of Duty (22 page)

The president
was taken aback, and judging from the professor’s reaction—Hansen, for his
part, remained as stoic and unreadable as ever—he was just as surprised as she
was. Clearly, he hadn’t been told about this before.

“Everyone?”
she asked, her patience suddenly renewed.

“Yes, ma’am.
Every space traffic controller, every flight engineer, every deck crewman, technician,
records clerk, and every former member of the
Albion
crew. Not to
mention an inordinately high percentage of their immediate family members.
Everyone who might possibly have known anything about it.”

“That is
most...unusual, Mister MacLeod,” she remarked.

“It is most
suspicious, Madam President, and I believe it lends a certain amount of
credibility to this new information. It’s too much of a coincidence to be
just
a coincidence.”

“I agree. I
trust the matter is being looked into.”

“Indeed it
is, ma’am. The admiral’s agency and the Federation Bureau of Investigations are
looking into it jointly.”

“Good. Now,
all that being said, and as obvious as it might seem, are we absolutely sure
that whatever was going on back then that led to all those deaths had to
involve the
Albion
?”

“To be
honest, Madam President, we can’t be absolutely sure of that either, at least
not yet. But the investigators have been looking into every record of events
from that time period that they can find, and so far the apparent status of the
Albion
is the only thing we have any reason to question, other than the
deaths themselves of course.”

“That reason
being nothing more than this new information of yours,” she concluded. “This...this
transmission record, which is itself of questionable reliability.”

“That’s
correct, ma’am.”

The president
gazed silently at MacLeod for a moment, then shifted to Verne. “I take it from
your reaction a few moments ago, Professor, that you were not made aware of
this information prior to this meeting.”

“Ah, no ma’am,
I certainly was not,” he responded, glaring at the chairman again. Then he
looked back to the president and said, “But, ah, since we seem to be laying our
hold cards out on the table now, here’s another one for you to think about. Of
all the published theories on the possible effects of backward travel through
time and subsequent changes to history, only three have ever really been
accepted as plausible by the scientific community.”

“And they
are?”

The first,
which seems to have its roots in nothing more scientific than a late twentieth century
work of science fiction, states that any given historical event is the result
of a complex. That is to say that there exists no one single cause of any event,
so it’s quite difficult, though not completely impossible, to change the flow
of history simply by altering one event. That being said, if someone were to go
back in time and kill one of a man’s immediate parents before that man is conceived,
then his birth would naturally be prevented. But according to this theory, if someone
were to go back and kill an ancestor
numerous generations
before that
man’s birth, then he would still be born because his genes result from the entirety
of his ancestry. There will have been compensation for the loss of that one
single ancestor.”

“That’s all
well and good for a single person, Professor, but what about a major event?”
the president asked. “Like the destruction of the
Excalibur
?”

“Such an
event could be, and I stress
could
be, what’s referred to under this theory
as a nexus—a key event in history. If such an event is altered, then the subsequent
timeline is drastically changed. Examples of such a nexus might include the
prevention of Adolph Hitler’s birth by killing one of his immediate parents,
the destruction of the Japanese fleet before they launch their planes for the
attack on Pearl Harbor, or certainly the destruction of the Veshtonn home world
before they ever achieve space flight.”

“Now there’s
an idea,” MacLeod quipped.

Ignoring
him, the president asked, “What are the other two theories?”

“The second,
the one the chairman is obviously counting on to be the correct one, states
that if a significant event in history is altered, then all subsequent events
that occurred as a result of that event are altered as well, thus changing the
future that the time-traveler came from. The farther back along the timeline
the initial change occurs, the more drastic all the subsequent changes become
because their numbers compound exponentially. The major argument against this
theory is that a traveler could not possibly make a significant change to the
timeline without creating a paradox.”

“Explain.”

“All right.
Say for example that a traveler went back in time to prevent World War Two, and
that he was successful. Not just in delaying it, mind you, but in completely stopping
it from ever happening. World War Two never happens, and because it never
happens, his mission back in time to prevent it never happens, either. But, if
his mission to prevent it never happens, then the war breaks out.”

“I see. And
the third theory?”

“The third
and somewhat more logical theory is that if a significant event in history is
altered, then a new timeline is created from that point forward. That timeline
continues to unfold on its own as a sort of parallel universe if you will, but
the future that the time-traveler originally came from remains unchanged.”

“You said
that theory is the more logical of the three, Professor,” the president
observed. “May I assume then that it’s the one to which you yourself subscribe?”

“Yes you
may, Madam President,” he answered without hesitation. “You may absolutely
assume that.”

“And why is
that?”

“Because
physical and natural science supports it.”

“How so?”

“Think of
time as a river, Madam President. Let’s assume that the water in this river
flows down hill in a southerly direction. Halfway down the hill the riverbed
forks, but all the water bounces off a large rock near where the fork occurs
and stays to its left, thus flowing southeast from that point on. One day, a
creature that lives in the water sees the fork as he floats by it. He climbs
out of the water and walks back to the fork to try to move the rock and force
all the water to bounce to the right and flow to the southwest. He succeeds,
and from that moment on, all the water hits the other side of the rock and
flows southwest. But has the water that the being climbed out of—the water that
has already flowed to the southeast, changed its course? No, it hasn’t. It
continues along its original path, still flowing to the southeast.

“According
to this theory, Madam President, if you send someone back in time to change the
past, and if that someone is successful, it still won’t change a thing for us.
Unless of course the analogy of the river is even more accurate than any of us
in the scientific community have previously theorized, in which case our
timeline might one day simply dry up and cease to exist altogether.”

The president
sat back in her chair and considered all that she’d been told. This decision
was going to be even more difficult than she had originally anticipated. “Standard
procedure dictates that I present this proposal to the Council of Coalition
Member Worlds for their input,” she pointed out.

“Of course,”
Verne agreed immediately. “Then you’ll see.”

“What will I
see, Professor?”

“Wisdom,
Madam President. The representatives of the other Coalition worlds will know of
the incredible dangers we’re dealing with here. Especially the Tor’Kana. They’ll
never approve of this insane resolution.”

“You seem
very sure of yourself.”

“Madam
President, I’ve had a number of opportunities throughout my career to work with
some of the most brilliant minds the Coalition has to offer. I
am
sure
of myself.”

“Excuse me,
Madam President,” MacLeod interjected, “but I must caution you against taking
this matter up with any of the other Coalition governments’ representatives.
The members of the Earth Security Council feel it is vitally important that we
continue to keep the existence of our Earth-targeted Portal classified.”

“Even now,
Mister MacLeod, after all that has happened?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Why?”

“For the
same reason we’ve
always
kept it classified, Madam President. As the
esteemed professor here pointed out, time-travel can be an extremely dangerous
business, theortetically at least. Therefore the Portals represent an extremely
dangerous technology. If the rest of the Coalition were to find out there’s a
functioning Portal aimed directly at the Earth, the possibilities of the wrong
person gaining access to it would be greatly multiplied. And if that wrong
person somehow
did
gain access to it, who knows what he might use it
for?”

“I see. So
what you are telling me, Mister MacLeod, is that the council wants me to make
this decision on my own, without any input from any of our allies.”

“I’m afraid
so, ma’am. The way the council sees it, this is nothing less than a matter of
planetary security.”

“That is not
going to be easy.”

“No, ma’am,
it’s not. And they understand that most clearly. Nevertheless, they insist that
you do just that.”

“Oh, they
insist, do they?”

MacLeod
raised his hands in self-defense. “I’m only the messenger, Madam President. I’m
not trying to tell you what to do.”

She exhaled
loudly, then turned to Hansen again. “We’ve barely heard a peep out of you
since you got here, Admiral,” she commented. “What’s your opinion on all of
this?”

The
weathered, fifty-three year old officer drew a deep breath as he carefully
considered his answer. He hadn’t seen his old friend face to face in over three
months—the both of them were always so busy—and had been looking her over
closely since the moment he sat down. She looked thinner than before. Not
emaciated by any means, but gaunt enough that he worried her health might not
be what it should. And her close-cropped black hair had begun to gray at the
temples and around behind her ears. After all these years, the pressures of her
office were finally beginning to take their toll. What she needed was a little
moral support.

“I am, first
and foremost, a soldier and a patriot, Madam President,” he said. “My duty here
is to receive and act on your orders. My personal opinion on this matter is
completely irrelevant.”

“That is
nothing but recruit dogma, Admiral, and you know it,” she scolded, clearly
disappointed with his response, “and recruit dogma has no place in this
meeting. I want to know where you stand with all of this.”

He combed
his fingers through his thick, graying, sandy blonde hair and gave his scalp a
scratch, then dropped his hands back to his lap and explained, “You know me,
Madam President. I’m a realist. All this time-travel stuff is beyond my desire
to even try to comprehend. It’s not my area of expertise and I won’t pretend to
completely understand one theory or another. I’m sorry, but I really am here
just to receive your orders. If you tell me to send an agent on this mission,
then I’ll send one. If you tell me not to,” he hesitated, just for a moment, “then
I won’t.” With a shrug of his shoulders and a slight cock of his head he added,
“It’s as simple as that, ma’am.”

“Not quite
so simple as that, I think,” she disagreed. She knew him far too well to
believe for one second that he’d blindly follow his superiors’ orders simply
because they
were
his superiors’ orders. He had an opinion, no doubt a
very strong one, one way or the other. But she accepted his answer, at least for
the moment, out of friendship and respect. He obviously didn’t want to say
anything more about it.

“Let me ask
you this, then,” she moved on. “If you do send someone back, would that person
be able to return home again?”

Hansen
cringed, but only internally. Of all the questions she could have asked, why
did she have to ask that one? He said, “Perhaps the professor would be better
suited to answer...”

“I’m asking
you, Admiral.” She knew the value he placed on the lives and well being of
every one of the men and women who served under his command. If there were any
doubt as to the possibility of the traveler returning home, he’d be the one to tell
her.

She had him
cornered. He had no choice but to answer. Damn. “Well, Madam President, as the chairman
indicated earlier, we know that the ancient Tor’Rosha who created the Portals
used them for two-way travel, so...”

“We also
know the Tor’Rosha didn’t interfere in the development of the worlds they
visited in any way,” Professor Verne piped in. All eyes turned to him. “Ah,
they went strictly as observers, and never revealed themselves to anyone.”

“That we
know of,” MacLeod pointed out.

“As I was
saying,” Hansen continued as he threw the other men a brief but very clear
message—‘do not interrupt me again’—with just a stern expression. Then he turned
his attention back to the president. “I’m inclined to say yes, ma’am. I personally
don’t know the specific procedures, but there is apparently some kind of recall
device that he’d have to carry with him. Once the targeted moment in history
has passed, he’d need only to activate this device to be pulled forward to the
present again.”

“Yes, but to
which
present, Admiral?”

“Ma’am?”

“To which
timeline would he return? Would he return to the professor’s unaltered flow of
river water that’s already passed the fork, to the home he knows? Or would he
return to an altered present and find himself stranded in a less familiar
world?”