September 13, 2073, 2 months ago
0945
The Temporal Science Center was less ominous in the light of day, but the knot in Shannan’s stomach from her early-morning felony remained. As she and Monica walked into the brightly-lit atrium and headed toward the elevators, Shannan couldn’t help but dart her eyes in all directions as soon as they passed through the glass doors, as if security would pop out of a corner to arrest her.
“You okay?” Monica asked, coming to a halt in front of the last bank of elevators, the one designated for the fourth floor.
“Yeah. I’ve just never traveled alone before.”
“The fact they trust you enough to let you go unescorted says a lot. Means you’re on top of all the right lists for job placements.”
Shannan ignored the touch of bitterness in Monica’s voice, like always, choosing instead to demurely shrug as they waited. The security liaison program was oddly the most competitive and Monica admittedly had a less certain path to graduation than Shannan. Even one less-than-stellar assessment could sentence Monica to repeating her fourth year. And paying for it out of pocket. It didn’t matter how many times Shannan told her how great she was or how she didn’t need to worry. Actually, it seemed to make things worse.
I don’t have a national hero for a grandmother to make sure I get a good job! Monica had sneered at her more than once.
Bringing up Memaw was her favorite way to rebuff reassurance, which chafed. But Shannan knew it was her anxiety talking, and not just about school. Monica’s dad worked construction and her mom was a maid, with both of their bodies crumbling after decades of manual labor. They wouldn’t be able to earn a living for much longer and Monica still had two school-age brothers. She needed to be a success in a way Shannan never did. So she tolerated Monica’s fits of pique. The same way she tolerated Alfredo’s bouts of temper.
Why do I always attract the broken ones?
When the doors to the elevator slid open, they stepped in, silently waiting a moment for the soft beep of the scanners, the low tone indicating they were permitted on the fourth floor.
When the elevator opened its doors once again, two masked security guards stood facing them, rifles present but pointing down.
“Good morning, Coronavirus One,” Monica said loudly, nodding at the first masked guard. “Coronavirus Two.” She dutifully nodded at the second as well.
“Muster in the Red Room,” replied the first guard, sounding exhausted at Monica’s traditional greeting.
“Thank you,” Shannon said, nodding at the men as she passed, just like she always did, letting her gaze linger just a bit longer to see if this time they acted any differently. They didn’t.
These same two men would have been—should have been—posted right here early this morning when she and Daniel arrived. But they weren’t. Something Daniel told her not to worry about. And definitely not ask about. Ever.
Shannan wiped her sweaty palm on her pants before reaching out and giving Monica’s shoulder a squeeze, bringing her rapid steps to a halt.
Now outside the short, curved hallway that served as the entrance to the Red Room, Monica was already late to her briefing, so Shannan didn’t want to make her tardiness any worse.
“I’ll see you when we get back.”
Monica smiled, leaning in for a quick hug, a genuine one, with none of the stilted, unexpressed anger that so often gripped her. “Be safe,” she said, pulling back and looking at her seriously. “This is your last one, so don’t go getting injured or anything.”
“You too,” Shannan said, though she didn’t have even the slightest concern for Monica’s safety. If anything, she worried for the person who might get in her way.
With another quick squeeze of her hand, Monica turned and darted into the Red Room, leaving Shannan in the hallway.
With all her worry over getting Daniel to safety, and covering her tracks as she did so, Shannan had given precious little thought to her upcoming trip. Most students, even graduate students, didn’t have the option to travel alone, and for good reason. The past was a dangerous place and it was only Daniel’s arrest that necessitated her traveling to the dark ages unaccompanied.
She wasn’t afraid, exactly. She’d traveled before, and had a few close calls with natives asking uncomfortable questions and a few attempted robberies. But she was always accompanied by a professor. Her first time out, she’d had a security liaison too.
Now she was going to the tenth century, further back than she’d ever been, with none of Daniel’s seemingly endless knowledge, nor any of his beneficial upper body strength either. It would be a lot easier and less frightening if she were a man, or even if she could pass for one. But no. The girl who’d been labeled Big Boob June by Denny Dalton in sixth grade could never pass for a man. So she would have to take what she’d learned on her previous trips, what Daniel had taught her, and keep herself safe.
Unlike Monica, she wasn’t late. As a grad student and experienced traveler, she didn’t need to go to the muster; she only needed to change into her travel clothes, report to the White Room, get her emergency beacon and itinerary, and step onto the platform, where she’d stood with Daniel just hours before. Only this time she would be on the other side of the glass.
The women’s changing room was, oddly enough, not at all built with privacy or modesty in mind. Like every other room in the building, there was a curving corridor as a substitute for a door and every single word uttered or foot scuffed could be heard out in the hallway. The lockers were metal and also doorless. The walls were either frosted glass or, more commonly, floor-to-ceiling mirrors, each one with reminders printed on them in bright red font.
Have you taken out all piercings?
Wearing a tampon? Remember to take it out!
Are your undies time-appropriate?
The reminders felt invasive but it was good to see them. Even with all the training they got here at Warner, it was easy to change into your travel clothes… while leaving your red thong in place.
On her previous two trips, she had been but one of many travelers, all of them jockeying for space to get into their outfits and check themselves in the mirror. But not today. She was alone, which made for a quiet and peaceful experience as she pulled off her clothes and sneakers and put on her white cotton shift, heavy wool dress with cloth belt, and not-substantial leather boots. When she arrived outside Shaftesbury, she’d have a two-mile walk to reach the city walls. Hopefully the flimsy shoes held up.
Doing a brief twirl in the mirror, she saw another figure in the reflection, causing her to gasp.
Dr. Makeba snapped her index finger to her lips, a look of thunderous anger on her face.
What is she doing here? Shannan’s heart pounded as she unconsciously took a step backward, trying to keep distance between herself and the university president.
“I uh…” she stammered. “I don’t need to be at muster. Can I-”
Dr. Makeba snapped her fingers again, cutting off Shannan’s questions. She waited a beat, her eyes wide and fixated on Shannan’s face. After a few, seemingly endless seconds, she pulled her phone out of the pocket of her blazer and brought up the screen display, showing the list of notifications.
“When your name first showed up on the list of accepted candidates, I was certain it was nepotism, that your grandmother got you in and I’d be obliged to make sure you got passing grades.” Dr. Makeba shook her head, then continued, keeping her voice low. “But then you actually were smart. Or at least I thought you were.”
A light wave of her hand sent the projected notifications to scrolling and Shannan felt her eyes go wide as she read them.
Alert: White Room occupied
Alert: Man Trap Door Opened
Alert: Travel panel accessed by Chandrasekhar, Anit
Oh god. She closed her eyes, partly to gain control of the panic roiling in her gut, and partly to better listen for the sound of approaching boots—the masked men from security coming to arrest her.
But so far, there was none. Only the sound of Dr. Makeba’s deep, angry breathing.
“The man trap in the White Room has its own alert system, you ridiculous, idiot girl. So imagine my surprise to see this. Dr. Chandrasekhar got one too. The chips in our arms aren’t merely for travel. They also act as a two-factor authentication. You used his codes, but the machine could tell he wasn’t in the vicinity.”
At that, Shannan’s eyes popped open and a boiling hot wave of rage coursed through her, dissipating almost as quickly as it appeared. In its microsecond duration, the rage spit a silent, accusatory question through her head: Why the fuck didn’t he tell me that?
But of course she knew why. Dr. Chandrasekhar had no compunction about sleeping with her and telling her just enough about the security features to keep her interested…but not so much that he put the program at risk.
“I didn’t realize that,” she mumbled, not able to come up with anything reasonable to say.
Dr. Makeba gave a mirthless laugh. “Refreshingly naive. That’s what Dan always said about you. I don’t think it’s refreshing at all. Three quarters of the staff were recruited directly from the CIA and you actually thought you’d get away with this sloppy-ass shit.”
“Daniel said-”
“Dan’s one of the few without an intel background. He was just a ground pounder. Kick the door down and announce he’s there to die for king and country. Good guy, but not who you should be taking advice from if you want to commit a federal offense.”
With another wave of her hand, Dr. Makeba closed her phone display and put the device back in her pocket. She sucked in a deep breath and let out an equally deep, and loud, sigh, before saying, “You’re coming back on Saturday. That’ll be more than enough time for them to discover Daniel is gone. I’ll wipe this out and do what I can. But you need to be prepared for the possibility you’ll be met by police when you come back. If that happens, you don’t say shit except that you want a lawyer. And I’ll make sure you get a good one.”
Tears sprung to her eyes as Shannan understood this lecture was not a precursor to being thrown in an isolation cell. Dr. Makeba was not going to tell. She was going to help.
“Why?” Shannan asked.
“A good man shouldn’t have to give up his life because he asked one, unpopular question. I didn’t have the balls to ask it myself. I don’t see why you should get screwed because he did.”
“What question?” Shannan asked, realizing only now that Daniel had never told her why anyone would attempt to frame him for murder in the first place.
Another humorless smile from Dr. Makeba. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it. But ideally, you’ll never need to know. Now hurry up and get changed. The quicker you get to Shaftesbury, the better.” She pursed her lips and looked down, breaking eye contact for the first time since making herself known to Shannan. “If that asshole is still alive when you get there, tell him I said I told you so.”
She turned on her heel and left without looking back at Shannan.
Alone once again, Shannan dropped down to the bench behind her, putting her head in her hands as she filled her lungs in great gasps, willing the concentrated fear out of her body.
Dr. Makeba was absolutely right. The plan was sloppy and even with all her nervousness, she genuinely thought she’d gotten away with it without anyone knowing what she’d done.
Stupid! She cursed herself.
More than anything, she allowed hope to spring anew that Daniel would still be alive when she arrived, that she could talk to him and tell him what happened. So he could tell her why it was happening. Even with Dr. Makeba’s assurance that she would help Shannan if the law came for her, part of her wondered if she should just follow Daniel’s example and stay in Shaftesbury. Maybe he was right. Maybe there was nothing left in this sorry world to stay for.
Enough of that.
Blowing out her breath, Shannan stood once again, steeling herself. She had a job to do, important research to publish that would shed new light on women in engineering. This trip was important.
But even as she left the changing room and walked confidently toward the White Room, she couldn’t dislodge the stubborn knot of anxiety in her stomach. Nor could she quell the niggling fear in the back of her mind that this trip was going to be even harder than she imagined.