The Legend of Things Past (Beyond Pluto SciFi Futuristic Aventures Book 1) (11 page)

The room was becoming all too familiar to Donovan. Soon, he
thought, he would have the whole place memorized in detail. He would be able to
draw a perfect picture of it for someone who had never seen it.

General Umar was sitting at his desk, as usual, and another
man sat with his back to Donovan.

General Umar looked up when Donovan walked in. “Ah, here he
is. Brigadier General Knight, this is Colonel McGregor.”

The man who would become the next leader of the U.S. Army
and Space Force rose from his chair to shake Donovan’s hand.

It was the strangest sensation. The man looked exactly like
General McGregor except with all-black hair and less wrinkles. And there
was—was that a smile?

Apparently the General wasn’t always so poker faced. What
had happened to make him that way in the future?

“Good to meet you, sir.”

Donovan almost laughed. General McGregor had just called him
“sir.” He wasn’t the General yet, but still, it counted. It definitely counted.

“Good to meet you as well. I trust that General Umar has
brought you up to speed.”

“No, actually, he’s been very vague.”

“Ah, well, let me clarify a few points. I have the brief for
you right here.”

They sat down and Donovan let the brief play.

After the Colonel had gotten over the initial shock, he
composed himself rather admirably.

“I need you,” General Umar said, “to be in charge of all
communications involving this mission. Make sure they’re secure. I will have
the team in constant contact with the base. After yesterday’s fiasco, I can’t
risk them being dark for that long. They need to be able to call for backup at
a moment’s notice.”

“Yes, sir,” Colonel McGregor said.

“I’ve already sent for the others. They should be here
shortly.”

A few minutes later, Tracee, Jonathan, and a man who looked
a lot like General Umar entered the room.

The General invited everyone to sit, paying no particular
interest to his son—Captain Umar had to be his son as they looked far too much
alike. In fact, if not for their resemblance and the matching last names,
Donovan would not have known they had even met each other before.

General Umar acted as if Captain Umar were just another
soldier. Donovan supposed that was a good thing—fairness and all that.

“Captain Umar will tell us the results of his research.”

Captain Umar cleared his throat. “Um, yes. Well, the results
aren’t looking good as far as any useful information. The man that attacked you
wasn’t a clone—it was a, well, sort of descendant, if you will.”

Seeing their confused gazes, Captain Umar explained further.

“It has about 99 percent of his DNA. The other 1% is altered
to make it look slightly different than Tobias. That was why the thing looked
so much like you, BG Knight.”

“So it’s not some long lost brother of mine?”

“No,” General Umar said. “Now, as for the test tube samples,
they were exactly what we thought they’d be—the virus. Weak versions of
them—but still rather dangerous. I have them secured in a vault.

“We couldn’t figure out why the man was so violent. There
were no markers in his genes. I think Tobias put it there specifically to guard
that clone you saw. The fact that it disappeared convinces me even more. Tobias
didn’t want anyone to find it.”

“So what do we do now?” Jonathan asked. “It seems that we’re
at a dead end.”

Everyone looked at General Umar. He raised his hands, palms
up. He shrugged. “I brought you all to this case because you have special
qualities—certain abilities that give you more advantage than any other soldier
in this building.

“I don’t have the all the answers. It’s up to you to figure
it out. This is an elite mission—which means you’ll have to put those elite
skills to use. Put your heads together. The world is at stake.”

General Umar got up and walked to the door. “If you’ll excuse
me, I have other matters to attend to. Someone has to keep this base running in
working order. I’ll leave Tobias to you. Report to me each morning and each
evening.”

He closed the door on them, leaving their brains to hum in
panic, fear, and confusion. The world was on their shoulders. Donovan had no
idea if they were smart enough to save it.

For
good ideas and true innovation, you need human interaction, conflict, argument,
debate.

—Margaret
Heffernan

May
6, 2176

Fort
Belvoir, VA

Donovan
Knight

Donavon sat in stunned silence with the others. Then all of
sudden everyone was talking at once.

“We should just wait till he gets back from China,” Tracee
was saying. “Then we can bring him in for questioning.”

“We need to use technology to our advantage,” General
McGregor said.

“I agree,” Johnathan said. “We can use technology to spy on
him. He’ll never know that we’re on to him. We can take our time and get as
much information as we need.”

“No, he’s too smart for that, he’ll figure it out,” Captain
Umar said impatiently. “We have to use a biological attack, like he is doing to
us. I’ve been doing research on memory retrieval. There’s a possibility that we
could put him in an artificial comma and search his mind.”

“Yes, but how far along is that research?” Jonathan shot
back. “It’s still in its infancy. We don’t know for sure that it’ll work. It
could take years.”

“But we have time,” Captain Umar said. “This virus doesn’t
become a threat for another eighty-two years.”

     At the mention of time, Donovan spoke up.

“Quiet! Everyone, just be quiet!”

The room grew silent and everyone looked at him.

“I don’t have time. I need to get back to my own time and I
can’t do that until this mission has succeeded or failed beyond any hope. I
need to get back to my wife—if anything is even the same when this is all
over.”

Everyone had sober expressions.

“Now, what we need to do is not argue which of our ideas is
best but find a way to put our talents together. We can’t use old and tried
methods. Tobias will be expecting that. We need something new—innovative. Something
he doesn’t even know exists. We need to become scientific inventors, like he
is. That’s the only way we’ll be able to compete with him.”

Tracee sat down with a
humph
. Jonathan joined her and
stared at his hands, clearly thinking hard.

They sat or paced in silence for about thirty minutes before
Captain Umar threw his hands up. “I’ve got nothing. This is impossible.”

“It’s not, we just have to think harder.”

The clock ticked away the time. Someone would propose an
idea and it would get squashed right away. Then another person would propose
something else that seemed promising and they would toss is around for a while
before deciding that it too was complete garbage.

“I’ve got it!” Jonathan jumped from his seat.

They all moaned. He had done this about a dozen times
already.

“No, seriously guys, I’ve got it! What if we could create
something that would trace the clone?”

“What are you taking about, you idiotic child?” Tracee asked,
exasperated.

“The clone!” Jonathan said. His eyes bulged as if he’d go
crazy if no one understood what he was talking about. “The one that Knight
found in the lab. What if we could invent something that would track it? Figure
out where it disappeared to. It could lead us to something.”

They all shook their heads.

“What if Tobias didn’t send the clone somewhere else?”
Captain Umar asked. “What if he had a self-destruct setting on that glass case?
Maybe the clone is gone—disintegrated.”

“No,” Donovan said. “Tobias would never destroy something
like that. He’s too vain when it comes to his work. It’s very likely that it
was teleported to another location.”

Colonel McGregor nodded. “So in all likelihood he sent it
somewhere else, but where? Maybe he has another secret lab somewhere. If we can
figure out where that clone went. But how?”

“
HELLO!
” Jonathan said. “That’s what I was just
saying.”

“Right,” Donovan said. “Carry on.”

“Captain Umar. Every person on the planet has a unique
pattern of brainwaves, right? Similar to a thumb print?”

“Yes.”

“And Colonel McGregor, there are machines that can sense
brain waves, correct?”

“Yes.”

Donovan’s eyes widened in excitement as he realized where
Jonathan was going. He sprang forward and scooped the redhead into his arms,
spinning him around.

“You’re a genius!” Donovan shouted. “A redheaded, freckle-faced
little genius!”

The others were still looking confused.

“I’m not understanding…,” Tracee said.

“How can you not see it?!” Donovan said. “It’s absolutely
brilliant! We invent a machine that can track specific brain waves. The brain
of Tobias’s clone will be exactly the same as his. It’ll be a cinch.”

“We may even be able to use the descendant we have here,”
Jonathan said. “If it has Tobias’s DNA with a slight twist, it should be
similar enough to help us track the other clone.”

“That’s…” A smile crept onto Tracee’s face. “…Absolutely genius!”

Donovan turned urgently to Colonel McGregor. “Can it be
done?” He looked at Captain Umar. “
Can it be done
?”

Captain Umar nodded. “It can be done… in theory.”

Colonel McGregor’s eyes were bright. “Yes, it could be done.
It shouldn’t be too hard. It’ll take some excellent programming skills, but I
think I can manage.”

Donovan had never known General McGregor to brag about his
talents.

Everyone was swept up in the excitement. They cheered and
clapped. If they could really do this, they would save the entire human race
from destruction.

They got to work immediately. Colonel McGregor and Captain Brian
took of a corner of the fifty-fourth floor, building prototypes and drawing up
plans for newer versions. They worked night and day, never leaving the room except
to relieve themselves. Food was brought to them.

They set up partitions around their little corner. They
would allow no one else inside and warned the rest of the team to stay away. They
said that it would interrupt their creative flow. Donovan left the two of them
to their work and distracted himself in the meantime. He went to the gym, he
ran, he tried the many different food options at the base, he went for late
night swims. When he was tired of his own company he would seek out Jonathan or
Tracee.

They were both anxious to see the progress of the brain wave
tracking machine. It made them all feel weird to be standing around doing
nothing while Colonel McGregor and Captain Umar created the invention of the
century.

To keep themselves from going crazy with impatience they
hung out together. They discovered little nooks and crannies all over the base
where they could be alone to discuss the mission. They usually talked in
circles, saying the same old worn out words over and over again. They knew that
it was useless, but at least it kept their minds busy.

They even started to meet up to think of new ideas. After
all, there was no guarantee that the invention would work. Maybe they should
have a backup plan. The meetings were fruitless as a rule, but they kept at it.

Tracee invited Donovan and Jonathan to train with her. They
met in the gym in the wee hours of the morning and after a tough regimen of
cardio, weight training, and stretching, they would enter the combat ring.

They would take it in turns, one person fighting another,
and the winner taking on the spectator. Jonathan lost every time, no matter who
his opponent was. Donovan and Tracee were evenly matched. Donovan was surprised
the first time he fought her. She had jumped right in, landing solid kicks and
punches to his chest and legs, bringing him down within seconds.

He lost that first fight out of carelessness. He had
underestimated her. But from then on he fought with vigor—he would not go easy
on her. Even when Donovan fought his hardest, Tracee still had the ability to
beat him.

Donovan would spar with Tracee for hours, trying his best to
win at least three matches in a row, but it never happened. Jonathan would
often drop out of the competition early, easily wiped out by the two army
specialists’ workout routine. Jonathan was fit and a good fighter—but he was no
match for either of them.

One day, after Jonathan had already headed for the showers,
Donovan and Tracee faced off in the sparring ring. Each waited for the other to
make the first move. Donovan had become accustomed to her style now—she was
very aggressive, in contrast to his calm demeanor. He knew if he waited long
enough she would lose patience and strike first. It never failed.

She lunged for him. He dodged to the side, grabbing her leg
as it swung toward his side. She used his firm hold against him, twisting her
entire body to bring the other leg up and around toward his face. Donovan
dropped the one leg to block the other. A less skilled fighter would have lost
her balance and fallen to the ground, but Tracee landed in a crouching position,
on her feet. She sprang back up and struck again.

Donovan’s mind went blank and he let his body take over. He
simply reacted to whatever Tracee threw at him, bending and twisting and
striking as the moment called for. Somehow, they’d ended up on the ground, wrestling
for domination. Donovan had not wanted to be in this situation—where Donovan
was strong, Tracee made up for it with flexibility. She could twist her body
into knots.

Tracee maneuvered her lithe body, snaking her arms and legs
around Donovan’s like a pretzel, trapping him. Donovan forced her arms apart
and turned around so that his full weight was on top of her. They were so close
he could smell the sweat that rolled down her chest. It wasn’t unpleasant—he
felt that familiar tingling in his arms and legs.

He held Tracee down. She struggled to maneuver out of his
grip. Suddenly, she stopped and looked at him. Their faces were already mere
inches away from each other. Tracee moved infinitesimally forward, her eyes
drilling into his with curiosity, a blue steak of her hair plastered to her
face.

Donovan moved forward, too. At the last second, he moved his
face to the right, never letting his skin make contact with hers, then
whispered in her ear, “I win.”

The wait continued. Donovan kept a physical distance from
Tracee after their last encounter in the gym, but otherwise acted completely
normally. He had to admit to himself that he had been sorely tempted to kiss
her, and he couldn’t let that happen again. He didn’t want to give her any
ideas either. Donovan had to think of his wife, his kids. They were the reason
he was there in the first place.

Finally, after a long week of waiting and very little sleep,
Colonel McGregor stormed into one of their gatherings.

“I’ve been looking for you guys everywhere!” he shouted.
“How do expect anyone to deliver news at the first signs of progress if you
hide away in a supply closet?!”

“We were, uh…,” Jonathan said.

“Where’s everyone’s watches?” Colonel McGregor asked. “I’ve
been calling for hours.”

They all spluttered for a moment, not wanting to admit that
they’d silenced the watches so they could concentrate for a couple of hours.
They hadn’t suspected that anything would happen this fast.

“We were planning,” Tracee said quickly. “You know, a backup
plan, in case you guys couldn’t figure it out.”

“Well, no need for that anymore,” Colonel McGregor said. “It’s
done.”

“What?” Donovan asked. “So fast? How did…”

“Do you want to sit here and question me or do you want to
see
it?”

Donovan, Tracee, and Jonathan raced for the door.

Colonel McGregor led them into the partition on the
fifty-fourth floor. There was a single table in it and two chairs. On the table
were piles and piles of papers covered in drawings. On top of the papers was a
small black device.

“How does it work?” Tracee asked.

“You scan a person’s brain waves,” Captain Umar said,
picking up the device and waving it in front of Tracee’s face. “Like so. Then
you save the data.” Captain Umar pushed a button. “Then…” He pushed Tracee out
of the door. “…you select the brain waves you want to track and hit the seek
button.”

Captain Umar pressed another button and the device started
to hum in his hand, then it was beeping. He walked slowly up to Tracee. It
beeped faster the closer he got. When he was within one foot of her, the device
let out one last high pitched beep.

“
Target found
,” it said.