Time Riders

‘The maximum mission time possible. Six months,’ he replied.

Maddy pulled off her glasses and absent-mindedly wiped the lenses. She narrowed her eyes.‘Maximum mission time? You mentioned that once before.’

‘Maximum mission time,’ repeated Foster. ‘Twenty-six weeks. Six months.That’s the support unit’s expiry point.’

‘Expiry point?’ said Maddy. ‘I don’t like the sound ofthat.’

‘The support unit, Bob, is programmed to destroy himself if he’s not beenreturned to the present after a period of six months.’

‘Why?’ asked Sal.

‘To prevent him falling into the wrong hands… to prevent him becoming a dangerousweapon.’

‘Dangerous?’

‘His mind is adaptive AI. It’s software that learns. Imagine if Bob fell into thewrong hands. Imagine if Bob’s software began to learn about the world from someone evil,or mad. Imagine if Bob learned about the world from someone utterly insane like the Roman Emperor Caligula. Or was used as a weapon by Napoleon, or GenghisKhan.’

The girls considered that prospect in silence.

‘Worse still,’ Foster continued, ‘since his organic body doesn’t age,and provided he’s able to eat, he could live indefinitely. A strong man, almostimpossible to kill, who never ages. Think about it. Something like that could end up — particularly back in a superstitious time — being worshipped as a… well, as agod.’

‘Sheesh,’ whispered Maddy, ‘I bet ol’ dumb-nuts would lovethat.’

‘Point is that it’s a particularly bad idea leaving a support unit behind inhistory. So they’re programmed to self-terminate after six months.’

Sal frowned. ‘So what will Bob do? Blow up?’

‘Nothing quite so dramatic. The computer brain short-circuits and burns itself out.You’re left with nothing but a nugget of metal that’s useful to no one.’

‘And the computer burning itself,’ said Maddy, finishing off her coffee,‘that, like, that’ll kill Bob?’

‘Not exactly. With no computer in his head, the support unit will be nothing more thana large, able-bodied adult male with the undeveloped mind of a newborn baby.’

‘He’s left a gibbering idiot for the rest of time,’ said Maddy.‘Nice.’

‘No. He’d most probably die eventually. Being unable to actually think, he’d be unable to care for himself, feed himself. Thebody would die of starvation after a few weeks, just like any other human body. In fact,unable to figure out he needs a drink, he’d die within just a few days.’

‘Poor Bob,’ said Sal.

Foster leaned forward and rested a hand on her shoulder. ‘Meat robot… OK?That’s all he is. Just a meat robot.’

She nodded slowly. ‘Meat robot,’ she repeated to herself,‘meat robot.’

‘So,’ said Maddy, putting her glasses back on, ‘that’s the time-stampwe’re gonna send back to them? That they gotta shift their butts to somewhere in theneighbourhood of the White House for a portal that opens six months after they first arrivedthere?’

‘Maybe a couple or more days before the termination date. Just so we’re notcutting it too fine. But yes,’ he replied. ‘I think that’s our bestshot.’

‘Right.’ Maddy nodded towards the computer monitors. ‘I guess I better bootup the computer, see if the thing still works an’ rustle up a map ofWashington.’

‘Good girl.’

CHAPTER 63

1957, woods outside Baltimore

‘So, er… who are all these guys, Bob?’ asked Liam as he struggledto keep up with him, striding across the snow-covered field towards the woods. There were menin their wake, dozens of them, waving their guns in the air, discharging them, cheeringtriumphantly.

‘They keep following me,’ answered Bob flatly.

Liam looked back over his shoulder at them: a grimy ragtag army of soldiers and civilians.Beyond them he could see the crisp white field was dotted with grubby prisoners fleeing thecamp in all directions.

‘The captain did it again!’ cheered one of the fighters.

‘Let’s hear it for Captain Bob… hiphip…’

The men chorused ‘hooray!’, several of them firing their guns again insupport.

Liam leaned closer, lowering his voice. ‘CaptainBob? You told them you were an army officer? Jay-zus… thatwas clever.’ He was genuinely impressed with the initiative Bob had shown.‘I’m proud of you,’ he said, slapping him on his broad back.

‘I have told them nothing,’ Bob replied. ‘They have decided to call me thisname.’

‘Hey! You!’

Liam turned round. A dozen yards behind, catching up with them, was a small weaselly-lookingman, who looked like the sort of dodgy debt dealer his mum had once warnedhim about.

‘Hey, kid! Don’t be crowdin’ the captain like that. You want face-time withhim, you come talk to me first, all right? He don’t need to be troubled by no peskylittle kid wantin’ an autograph.’

Liam looked at the other fighters behind him, their eyes still glazed with the exhilarationof battle, panting plumes of winter breath and gazing at Bob with an intense…fierce…

What? Fondness? Love? No, it wasn’t that… It wasmuch, much more. It was awe.

‘Hey, kid!’ said the weasel in the suit. He jogged over. ‘You wanna joinCaptain Bob’s Freedom Force? Is that what you want? Then come talk to me back at the camp. The name’s Panelli, Vice-captain Panelli. I’m the second-in-command around here. I’ll sortyou out with some food and a gun — ’

‘Uh… no, that’s OK. I don’t want to join your Freedom Force.I’m just — ’

‘Then if you ain’t joinin’ the force, kid, you better scram. We got us somemore raids to plan, a war to fight. An’ Captain Bob needs time to rest up before heleads us against them Krauties again.’

Liam looked up at Bob. ‘This isn’t what we’re here for, is it? To fightKramer’s army?’ he asked, ignoring Panelli.

‘You are correct,’ replied Bob. ‘Mission priority now is to return homewith acquired data.’

‘So, how are we going to do that?’

Bob considered the question for a moment. ‘I have no available plan. Suggestion: weawait a signal from the agency giving us further instructions.’

‘We just wait for them to call us?’

‘Affirmative.’

‘Hey!’ cut in Panelli, grabbing Liam’s arm. ‘Hey, stop that! Whatsorta weird talk is that yer saying to the captain?’

Liam spun round angrily, shaking off his hand. ‘Please! Can you leaveus alone? We need to talk!’

Panelli looked at them both suspiciously. ‘I heard you say something about an agency signal? You some kinda spy? Some kinda enemysympathizer?’

‘What? No!’

‘You sound sorta funny to me. Got some kinda accent going on there. What do you think,men?’

‘Oh, for cryin’ out loud! I’m Irish!’ replied Liam. ‘I’mnot a flippin’ German spy!’

Liam looked up at his support unit. ‘Bob, tell them I’m your friend.’

‘He is my friend.’

Panelli looked surprised. ‘You… you know thiskid?’