“To the breaching module,” Paul finished.
“And look at this!” Kelly pointed to the screen and saw a chronometer had appeared in a popup window and was displaying a time countdown. It began at ten minutes and the numbers continued to diminish as he pointed.
“That has to be our launch time,” said Maeve.
They all looked at Robert.
The professor was looking over the rim of his reading glasses, from one to another, still looking like a scholarly monk in his cassock, the hood thrown back and drooping on his back. He took off his spectacles and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“Very well,” he sighed. “A few hours ago I was arguing with Maeve that I should be the one to go, but that brief look at the landscape of 8th century Gaul has dampened my enthusiasm for a re-visit to the dark ages. Not to worry,” he said, standing up and fussing with the prayer beads Maeve had slung on his waist sash. “I’m well and good, and… Well I suppose I’d best be getting on down to the Arch.”
Paul gave him a smile, then a firm hug. “Go with God, professor. I hope you don’t have to murder anyone. I can tell you. It’s a most uncomfortable experience.”
“Anything in your pockets?” Maeve gave him a suspicious look as she finished her hug. After what Paul has secreted away she was being a little more careful.
“Not a thing, Madame,” said Robert.
Kelly got up and embraced him roundly. “Hey, he said I was in the damn sphinx for months on that mission. But you come home soon now. We’ll be right here waiting.”
They were walking him towards the heavy security door. “You’re certain you have the fuel and all,” he asked sheepishly as he shuffled along with them.
“I’m going to be right on that final backup generator in case we need it,” said Paul. “There’s at least an hour’s worth of gas in that tank now, don’t worry.”
“What about the quantum fuel,” Nordhausen craned his neck, looking over his shoulder at the quantum matrix station as they passed it. “Will you be taking a double pattern of me as well?”
“I’ll take care of it,” said Paul. “But if anything happens you’ll know how to reach us,” he smiled, “because we’ll be scouring the history from the moment you shift. If you can get to a safe place, just drop us a note.”
“Yeah,” said Kelly with a wink. “Just send us a hieroglyphic or two!”
“And by all means stay put!” Maeve admonished him. “Don’t go wandering about.” She jabbed him with a firm finger.
“But what if I manifest in a muddy field?”
“Surrounded by a pack of hungry wolves?” Maeve had the apple they received, and handed it to him. “Give this to them—and then get yourself to a safe place, OK? Just remember your entry point. You’ll know what to do.”
“Well I haven’t a clue!” said Nordhausen.
“It’s an invitation,” she finished. “You’ll probably have company real soon. Fear not.”
The time was counting down through seven minutes and they let him go, through the great titanium door and down into the bowels of the Berkley Hills to shift into infinity.
Back at the monitors Paul leaned in to watch Kelly on the shift station. His ears were still ringing from that clanging bell in the chapel tower, and the haunting echo still bothered him. Thoughts of what he had done plagued him, but he pushed them out of his mind, trying to focus on the moment. “Will we be able to see where he goes on these readouts?”
“It looks like a normal block of breaching data. The checksums are perfect,” said Kelly. “Yes, we should get his target in space-time just after data goes live. I better feed the turbines some gasoline and rev this baby up again. I hope the singularity can take this strain, Paul.”
He dialed up the power, pleased that everything seemed to be going smoothly. “But Robert had some justification to be worried,” he said. “The quantum fuel is the issue now. The singularity has developed a small wobble. It will still open the continuum, but it’s a sign the process is decaying. I’m not sure how long we’re going to be able to hold it steady, and if it disintegrates we won’t be able to bring him home until we regenerate.”
Paul nodded gravely, fully aware of the situation.
“Ah!” said Kelly. “The data is going live now.” The countdown was passing through the three minute mark. “I’m taking the power to 100%, just in case he needs a little push for safety’s sake.”
“What’s the target?”asked Paul, very curious.
“Well that’s interesting,” said Kelly. “Look at the date on the temporal readout! Here, let me get the spatial coordinates and overlay a map…”
Part IX
The Anvil of Fate
“The anvil of justice is planted firm, and fate who makes the sword does the forging in advance.”
Chapter 25
Nordhausen appeared in a blue frost, his eyes tightly closed, shoulders hunched and his face and head well shrouded by the hood of his cassock. He wanted to have all his wits about him when he manifested, in doubt as to what he would encounter. It was unnerving to be shifting into absolute uncertainty like this, without the slightest inkling as to where you would end up. Maeve’s story about the wolves was all too typical of this period, and 8th Century Gaul was a rough, uncultured, wild and dangerous place. He could be shifting anywhere, he thought.
To his great surprise, however, he found himself in a dimly lit room, facing a stone hearth where a hearty fire immediately chased the frost from the air and comforted with its warmth. He blinked, looking about, noting the smooth stone walls, high ceiling and the thick woolen carpet beneath his feet. Maeve’s last warning still echoed in his mind, and for a moment he seemed riveted to the ground, afraid that a single step would untether him from the world he knew forever. Before he could move, however, a quiet voice spoke from behind.
“Welcome, Mr. Nordhausen. So good of you to come!”
The English was perfect, so he immediately surmised that he was speaking with an Agent in Place, wherever he was. He turned, noting a short man, tonsured, but with a thick border of graying hair below his shaved head. His face was well rounded, ruddy cheeked, and his eyes were bright and intelligent.
“I am Emmerich, the Abbot of this place. And you have arrived safely, of sound mind and body I hope.”
“Indeed,” said Nordhausen. “And where exactly am I, if I may?”
“This is Marmoutier, known in your day as the Abbey of St. Martin at Tours, a monastery, actually. It is situated just north of the River Loire, which you may glimpse from the window there.” He gestured warmly, one hand fingering his prayer beads as he pointed. “We find it wise to welcome visitors of your sort after sunset—and oh, yes, this is the year 732, the month of October.”
“I see,” said the professor. “Well at least I know where my feet are planted. It’s a bit unnerving shifting out like this on a moment’s notice, without any idea of what I’m about.”
“My humble apologies, but it seems we have a situation on our hands concerning hostilities that will soon be engaged within a shout of this very room. We’ve nothing to worry about for the moment, but the Saracens are ravaging the land and bent on pillaging this place. They’ve burned nearly every church and monastery in Aquitaine and no doubt have their eyes set on this one as well.”