“Unknown.”
“You must know something!”
“Unknown.”
“Damn!”
The LOC remained silent, its circuit lights pulsing steadily.
“All right,” said Noel, drawing a couple of breaths in an effort to regain control. “All right. Maybe I should forget the whole thing. Maybe all this is supposed to happen. Why don’t we get on with our original mission? Can you reprogram to original destination? Location Constantinople. Date 634 A.D.”
The LOC did not reply.
“LOC!” he said sharply. “Respond. Are you malfunctioning?”
“Negative.”
‘Then reprogram, dammit!“
“Wait,” said LOC. It almost sounded sullen, although that was impossible.
“Come on. Come on,” said Noel impatiently.
“Reprogramming not possible,” said the LOC.
“Why?”
“Malfunction in destination and date codes. Date two, zero, four, four, four… scanning time retrieval scramble not found, not found, not found-”
“Stop,” said Noel. “Let’s try again. Reprogram. Location Constantinople. Date 633 A.D. Run.”
“Wait,” said the LOC. It hummed briefly. “Reprogramming not possible.”
Noel swore. His hands were shaking. He rubbed the moisture from his palms. Forcing himself to remain calm, he said, “Reprogram. Location Byzantium. Date now. Run.”
“Wait.”
He waited, listening to faint snores and the suffering whimpers of the man in the iron maiden. The LOC kept humming, but it did not respond.
“LOC,” he whispered. “Are you still reprogramming?”
“Affirmative,” said the LOC.
Noel’s spirits rose. His confidence came back in a rush. “Good. Let’s travel there now.”
The LOC did not reply.
“Are you malfunctioning?”
“Affirmative.”
Noel’s heart hit his shoes. “Reprogramming is impossible?”
“Destination of Byzantium is impossible. Destination codes malfunctioning. Retrieval scan-”
“Stop,” said Noel. “Question.”
“Ready.”
“Is reprogramming for destinations other than Constantinople possible?”
“Unknown.”
“Oh, hell!” Noel started to cancel in frustration, but forced himself to wait. He thought a long while, then sighed. “Run hypothesis.”
“Ready.”
“Input this data. My time loop should be near its end within an hour or two.”
“Mission time scheduled to end in exactly three hours.”
Noel grinned. “That’s more like it. Input this. Emergency assistance recall failed. Question: will my time loop end with recall?”
“Negative. Anomaly warning.”
Noel’s frown returned. “You’re saying that because of the duplication and the changes in events that have already taken place, I have nothing to return to?”
“No return. Anomaly warning.”
“So much for getting yanked away from this mess,” muttered Noel. He rubbed his forehead. “What’s the length of my safety chain?”
“Safety chain programming intact,” said the LOC. “Derive the square root of the forty-nine-minute time ratio to-”
“Seven-yeah, then what?” Noel did swift figuring in his head. “I make that about, what, twelve extra hours?”
‘Twelve hours, nine minutes,“ said the LOC.
The safety chain was a highly complex contingency program intended as a fail-safe device in times of emergency, when a time loop did not end with a proper recall. It was not inconceivable that something might go wrong on a mission, involving, say, the temporary removal of a LOC from a traveler’s possession. The safety chain consisted of several miniature time loops built in to expand the main loop and thus allow the traveler some leeway in straightening out problems. But its length was limited because access to a time stream could only be maintained for a certain duration.
As far as Noel knew, only one traveler had ever had to use the safety-chain program. Now, it was about to be two travelers. He swallowed hard, and thought there must be an easier way to make history.
“I’m not certain I can fix the problems in just twelve hours,” he said. “How many links in my chain?”
“Standard.”
That meant three links, and a link consisted of seven times the number of hours within the loop. He had about ten and a half days before…
“What happens if I don’t fix the anomaly by the end of the safety chain?”
The LOC did not respond. It didn’t really have to. Noel knew the answer. The time stream would snap shut, and the alterations to history would be permanent. No other historians could journey back to this time and place to attempt further repairs. The future, for better or worse, would be changed.
It also meant he would be trapped here for the rest of his life.
He rested his forehead on his knees, trying not to let his emotions give way. Whoever had sabotaged him had done a hell of a job.
The rules and his operating principles had just changed. He could no longer remain an uninvolved observer. Leon had to be stopped, and nothing-not pity, a sense of unexplainable obligation toward his twin, or anything else-could be permitted to deflect Noel from that purpose.
“Deactivate,” he said.
The LOC disguised itself as the bracelet of hammered copper and shut down. Noel stared at the wide band spanning his wrist. It tapered to two narrow ends at the heel of his palm. The hammered surface looked dull in the shadows. He grimaced and pulled his sleeve down over it. Time to go.
Rubbing his eyes that were gritty from insufficient sleep, he said softly, “LOC, activate but retain disguise mode.”
The LOC did nothing at first. Just as he felt his tenuous hold on his temper slip, the bracelet grew warm upon his wrist and hummed quietly. It did not assume its true appearance.
He sighed in relief. “Project external electrical field. Unlock this door.”
The device grew warmer on his wrist, almost unpleasantly hot. A hinge bolt flew through the air and struck the wall with a loiid ping. Noel jumped, his nerves on edge.
“Stop!” he whispered and listened to hear if anyone had been awakened.
No alarm sounded. He let out his breath. His heart, however, kept on pumping too fast.
“Continue,” he said and braced himself.
The next hinge bolt went flying. He ducked and heard it whistle over his head. It landed at the back end of the cell, the sound of its impact muffled in the pile of straw.
Noel tugged at the door, working its heavy weight off the hinges slowly, silently, making sure he did not strain the lock itself into creaking. When he had maneuvered himself enough space to squeeze through, he whispered to the LOC: “Engage external electromagnetic fields, human body level. Dampen.”
The LOC grew hot again on his wrist, busy controlling the alertness levels of the men sleeping within the cells and within the jailer’s quarters. It would not keep them from awakening if Noel made a lot of noise, but it would prevent them from being disturbed by any subconscious registering of his stealthy exit.
