Time's Chariot

‘Now you’re both—’ said the foreman.

‘Now you’re both here,’ said Scott, not even looking at the foreman but immediately silencing him, ‘we’ll start. I have a job that requires two biotech journeymen capable of working in unusual conditions. The best equipment will be made available but there will be no possibility of replacements or resupplies. I need people who can work with what they have and make sure that what they have works. Your aptitude tests suggest you are the two. I cannot say how long the job will last, so I have to ask, are you capable of getting on with one another? Be honest.’

Jontan and Sarai looked at each other. For a moment it occurred to Jontan that Scott shouldn’t have to ask journeymen — journeymen were told, not asked — but the doubt was swept away with the thought of working with Sarai, indefinitely. And with the worry that she might say no.

‘I can work with Sa— Journeyman Killin, sir,’ he said. He was pleased to see one corner of her mouth twitch in a slight smile.

‘I can work with Journeyman Baiget, sir,’ she said.

Scott nodded. ‘Good. As of now you’re detached from your duties. You won’t need to pack anything, just meet me at the surface port in half an hour. That’s all.’

‘Um, yes, sir.’ Jontan and Sarai turned to go, uncertain. It hadn’t been a formal dismissal such as they were used to, so…

‘Get going,’ said the foreman for their benefit.

‘Yes, sir!’ they said together, and went.

Phenuel Scott was pleased that the two journeymen were suitably silent as the taxi flew swiftly southwards. It was as it should be. He had no real desire to travel with journeymen at all but he was determined to keep them in his sight at all times until they were safely ensconced at the College. He had nightmare visions of the two of them arriving at the College unaccompanied, and innocently getting lost and somehow coming to the attention of some official who would wonder why Scott had hired two biotech journeymen…

It didn’t bear thinking about and he shook the vision away.

‘We are heading,’ he said, ‘for the College. That is, the College of Advanced Manipulation of Probability and Chronotic Transference.’

He wasn’t surprised to see a hint of awe in the looks. Aside from the plantation they’d probably never left Appalachia before.

‘As well as helping with the family business, I’m the assistant to the Appalachian consul there, and you are officially on the staff as well,’ he said. ‘Remember that — you shouldn’t have to meet any College personnel, but if you ever do, your work is Appalachian business only. You will discuss it only with consulate personnel. You will just be doing biotech work, nothing else, and you are under my sponsorship.’

That last line, he thought, should buy their loyalty if nothing else did.

‘Attention,’ the voice of the taxi symbed into their minds. ‘College Defence Systems request information concerning the two unknown individuals on board this taxi.’

‘Individuals are Journeymen Killin and Baiget, staff for the Appalachian consulate.’ Scott couldn’t avoid giving their titles but he had no compunction about doing so to a machine — it was unlikely any human with a sense of curiosity would hear about this. ‘Visitors on authority of Phenuel Scott until due residence authorization is given.’

‘Visitors are requested to identify themselves verbally.’

Scott nodded that they should do so, and they symbed their names and citizen numbers accordingly.

‘Please wait,’ said the taxi, and it slowed down and stopped and hovered.

‘This will take a couple of minutes,’ Scott said. ‘There’s Antarctica. Make the most of the view because you won’t be seeing much of it.’

With his permission given, they pressed their faces to the membrane. The continent of Antarctica was spread out before them. It was summer in the southern hemisphere and the pure white of the land below them would have been painful to look at if the membrane hadn’t been tinted.

The taxi was hovering in mid-air a mile above the snow, three miles away from the geometric shapes of the College. Scott stood with his arms folded and feasted his eyes on the unattainable prize three miles distant. It was insane. Down there was the Earth’s most valuable resource. Used properly, it would set the people of Earth free from the grip of the space nations. Instead of saving up a lifetime to be allowed to emigrate in old age, as a grudging concession from the established powers of the former colony worlds, young men and women could head out into space instead. They could set up an empire of Earth in space that was new, not a superannuated copy of Earth that was old.

But the College had the monopoly on transference, and the College had Morbern’s Code, and the College would never allow what Scott and his friends had in mind. Well, that would change.

The taxi announced that clearance had been given, subject to the visitors checking in with Security upon arrival, and began to move again.

‘Stay by me when we arrive,’ Scott said. ‘I’ll escort you to Security, then to the place where you’ll be given your first assignment.’

The College was a severe disappointment to Jontan, who had been hoping to see the transference hall, or at least a Field Op. It wasn’t grown like an ecopolis, so there was a strange oldy-worldy feel to walking down corridors that were straight and smooth and not very interesting, but otherwise there was nothing new. After Security they reached the offices of the Appalachian consulate, which could have been anywhere on Earth. Then, instead of showing them to their quarters, Scott whisked them away and stopped halfway down a corridor, next to a maintenance access hatch. He spoke a code word and it opened.

‘Follow me,’ he said, and ducked inside. Sarai went next and Jontan followed, shutting the hatch behind him at Scott’s command.

They entered the maintenance tunnel, which for a while ran parallel with the main corridor they had just exited, then veered to the left. It was narrow and the roof was low, and they had to walk in a crouched single file. The lights were spaced at wide intervals along the ceiling. Jontan, bringing up the rear, admired the way light would flare around Sarai’s silhouette in front of him, gradually revealing all of her, then vanish again as they moved on and his own body blocked the light out.

They turned abruptly left, then right again into an identical tunnel. They seemed to have ducked through a hole cut in the wall between the first tunnel and the second — not a door, not a hatch, not even a planned junction, to judge by the rough look of the edges, but a definite hole.

Then they came to a ladder and had to climb down it into the darkness. The lights at the bottom were much dimmer and, wherever they were now, Jontan was sure it was old. Possibly the foundations of the College. The walls weren’t artificial any more — they were stone, the carved bedrock of Antarctica.

Then light began to grow around them and suddenly they were in a high, smooth-walled cavern. It was well lit and well ventilated, and a shining metal dome took up most of the centre of it. Two clam-doors were set into its side, gaping invitingly open. The dome was empty, though a jumble of crates was piled up next to it. Banks of antiquated-looking machinery with lights and displays glowing merrily lined the walls, broken here and there by the black rectangles of doors that led only into darkness. Jontan got the impression they were at the inhabited heart of quite a large, unlit and otherwise empty complex.

‘You’ll be here until tomorrow morning,’ Scott said, encompassing the whole room with a gesture. ‘There’s a couple of cots set up in the next room, foodfac over there, washing facilities through there. Your first job is to check these crates against this inventory, and when that’s done, get them loaded into there.’ He pointed at the shining dome. ‘Keep me informed of your progress. Here’s my symb code.’ He turned to go, then half turned back.

‘By the way,’ he said, ‘if you had any Union Day plans, cancel them.’ Then he was gone.

Cancel them! Indignation welled up in Jontan but was swept away in a moment by another thought.

His hopes had been high for getting near to Sarai at the Union Day party, but this was even better — no one else but each other in this strange labyrinth beneath the College. Things could be worse.

So, he checked the inventory he was holding. ‘Biotech kit,’ he said.

‘That makes sense,’ Sarai said, ‘if they want biotech journeymen.’

‘Yeah.’

They looked at the crates some more. ‘Do you think,’ Jontan said, ‘that we’ll find out what all this is about