He did not fight sleep nor fear it; he was oddly at peace with himself, although hardly happy. He had been happy; now he was not and could never be again, but he was out of it. He was no longer the pawn in their game, and if he died, well, that was enough.
He never did really know if they’d drugged him. The drugs of the future surely were far more dependable, sophisticated, and undetectable than those of his own time. It didn’t matter, although the time he spent there was certainly boring. He had no idea how long he was left there, but it seemed far too long almost from the start. At least, he thought more than once, they could have left a couple of books or something.
He had the impression that the human master of this place had gone somewhere, possibly uptime for consultations. It was both easy and difficult to understand Eric Benoni. Easy, in that he’d experienced, if he could be believed, both systems and found them both horrible, but he’d been born a human and wished to die one. Perhaps a case could be made that the Outworlders were not the end of humanity; certainly, no matter how alien they had become, they retained their cultural heritage, their history. No matter that they were monsters, they sprang from the same roots as man and might be mankind transformed, mankind changed, but certainly they were a continuation of the race. Perhaps the Neanderthal, looking at Cro-Magnon, had thought much the same as Eric Benoni.
Yet he was also difficult to know. His polyglot accent was the individually unique signature of the veteran time traveler, his manner bespoke the power and egotism that one with such a profession acquired. Yet he did not ring true, as kin as he might be to the Outworlder agents. He was a true believer with a cause, but he was no fanatic like Sandoval. He simply didn’t seem the type to be on the losing end of things, gambling with the past because he had not the resources to be decisive. Comparing the two sides he’d now known, the conclusion was obvious. Eric could do an awful lot of harm and damage, but he was still on the losing side even in this battle. Not being a fanatic, he was miscast in this role.
His thoughts returned most often to Dawn and the children. He loved them all so very much, and he missed them terribly. He realized with more sorrow than surprise that be would willingly go back to the island and to that primitive existence, even if it was killing them. They were the happiest years of his life, and he’d trade almost anything for them again.
And that, of course, was the one reason why, if he ever got the chance, he’d return to the Outworlders. The chance was highly unlikely, but if it came, he knew he’d go. The Earthsiders held his body hostage; the Outworlders held his heart.
Seven meals and two sleeps of indeterminate lengths and Eric was finally back from wherever he’d been. He seemed less confident and some of that aristocratic impassiveness was missing, yet it was clear that he was a man with instructions.
“How have you been? Did they treat you well?” the blond man asked.
Moosic shrugged. “It’s a comfortable prison, but a dull one.
“Well, that is all over now. You see, the time stream keeps moving forward. Events keep happening at the standard pace. It is not that they are running out of patience with me, but that the masters of time are running out of it. Ironic, is it not?”
“From what I can see, it’s just inevitable, not ironic. You work for pigs, Benoni. They’re going to destroy humanity, not the Outworlders. All but them. They’ll come back here and live fat and comfortable while the billions fry.”
“I have accepted the fact that it is fruitless to argue philosophy with you. Still, I must have that belt, and quickly. I think maybe we should try a bit of persuasion. You believe you are impervious because I cannot use the primitive methods and I cannot use blackmail. I understand that the other side has the ammunition, but you get used to it in this war. I think perhaps we have a weakness.” He snapped his fingers, and one of the creatures brought in a time belt. “Put it on,” Eric ordered his captive.
Moosic shrugged and complied. “You seem pretty sure I won’t kill myself,” he noted calmly.
Eric smiled. “I think you will not, so long as there is a chance of gaining anything personally. No, I think we will give you a choice. The belt is preprogrammed, I should warn you. Once you are uptime, you have only sixty seconds before it is recalled, so get out of it fast. The recall will not kill you, but it is very painful and the age is not one that knows how to kill pain or treat burns very well. I calculate your trip point at six days, and at seven you will be over the edge, more of that time than of this with your memories fading fast. So I will return and find you in five days. Again I will make you an offer. If you refuse, I will return again the next day, after your trip point. Perhaps the new dominant personality with the old knowledge will be more agreeable. If not, you will remain.”
He didn’t like this, not a bit. That old smugness was creeping back into Eric’s tone and manner, and it made him uncomfortable. He decided to argue, if he could. “If I go past the trip point I won’t be me anymore, right? So how can I get the belt?”
“It is in the nature of time loops, a rather bizarre mathematics. No matter how far gone you are, if you are not totally assimilated or dead, it will recognize you, even if you cannot recognize yourself.”
“Unless they found me gone and cut the power.”
“A remote chance. The date and place are fixed. We can return there only an eye-blink from when we left. That is hardly sufficient time for them to act, I would think.”
“I could kill myself, or die, wherever you’re sending me.”
“You won’t,” Eric responded confidently. “Remember what I said—sixty seconds, or else you will endure terrible but nonfatal agony.” He paused for a moment, and there was the hint of a self-satisfied smile on his face. “We have gotten to know you very well, nightsider. All of you. Activate!”
The speaker and the room winked out, and he was falling once more…
The sensation seemed to last an abnormally long time, particularly for the modern belts, but ultimately the world exploded around him once more and was, as expected, very dark. He did not doubt Eric’s threat with the belt, and moved to quickly remove and step away from it, but as the forces of time caught him up and caused him to pass out, he managed to think defiantly, O.K., Eric, do your worst!
When he awoke, he realized that Eric Benoni had done exactly that.
DOIN’ THE TRIP POINT SHUFFLE
Eric Benoni may have made a number of mistakes in his life, but this one was going to cost him dearly. That much, at least, she understood. Benoni had calculated the Moosic trip point from the previous length of stay, based on the original calculations. He had forgotten, or overlooked, the fact that the Moosic who journeyed back now, like that professor long forgotten until this moment brought his story back, was overaged.
This knowledge and these memories were in her mind, as were all the memories of Ron Moosic—but that was all there was of Ron Moosic now. It was a marvel that she had those memories, and with it the understanding of them, yet they were not hers, but those of a stranger, someone from another time and place. The knowledge, the memories, seemed both real and unreal to her. Some things, the more subtle things, the feelings and the emotions and the sense of actually having lived them, were absent.
And yet, she knew, God had chosen her for this moment and for this purpose. She did not understand it, but one did not question miracles. It was clear only that this one had come to her and had grappled with her mind, and in her blind faith she had tamed it. So vital was her holy mission, though, that the Dark One himself had sent his agents to ambush and kill her. She had seen the demons, and with her strange knowledge and memories she had slain one through the grace of God.