When she finally opened the inner door the intense cold reached out for her with clammy fingers of ice. The lights in the corridor were moving in a milky sheen of auroras, sweeping along the curved walls of the tunnel with a ghostly effect. She was shaking with fear as she stepped across the threshold of the inner door, peering into the montage of frosty light for any sign of life.
“Paul? Robert?” Her voice quavered out a plaintive call. “Is anyone there?”
“Maeve?” The words seemed to resound from the walls with a tremulous echo. “Is that you, Maeve?” There was more clarity now, and more presence in the voice that spoke to her from the glimmering heart of the Arch. It sounded like Professor Nordhausen! She edged up the corridor, but when she came to the thick yellow line her instincts told her to stop and go no further. It was a safety protocol that had been drummed into them many times in the long meetings before the project launch date. Never cross the line during retraction. The Arch was still active, and there would be no pattern signature on an outsider stored in the memory buffers. The traveler had to come to you. That was something they would have to fix, she told herself. What if someone came through unconscious at a moment like this? She tucked that thought away and focused on the situation at hand.
“Robert? Yes, it’s Maeve. Are you alright?”
“What? Thank God! I can see again. Lord, let me get these damn boots off!”
“Robert, you need to move now. Understand?”
“Just a moment… damn things…”
The lights in the corridor dissipated somewhat and Maeve could see a shadowy form seated square in the center of the Arch, tugging at his boot and muttering something inaudible. “No Robert, leave the boots on. You have to move right now. You need to get out of the Arch so we can bring Paul through. Do you understand me?”
There was no reply, but she could hear Nordhausen grunting with the effort to pull off his boot. God, what time was it? Another voice came to her, thin and distant on the intercom system. “Clear that Arch corridor, Maeve! I need to ramp this baby up again…” the cellophane crackle of static drowned out Kelly’s voice. She had to do something quickly, and her emotions finally snapped with the weight of all the stress and tension.
“Damn it, Robert! Get your ass over here! Now!”
The sharpness of her tone had an immediate effect. Nordhausen had heard that edge in her voice before, but never like this. He stood up on shaky legs. “Well, this is a fine greeting—”
“Move it!”
He moved. The shadow became a familiar face and form swaddled in long muddied robes and clumping along like a crippled man, one boot half way off. She grabbed him with one arm, taking a firm hold on his sullied robes as she pulled him over the yellow line. “Let’s go,” she ordered. “You can tell me all about it on the other side of the lock!”
“Oh yes,” said Nordhausen, remembering the cautions at last. “But what about Paul?”
Maeve dragged him along and he nearly fell as she guided him firmly through the inner lock and squeezed through behind. The lights in the corridor were swirling again, spinning over the walls with dizzying speed. She shoved the door closed and secured the lock. Nordhausen had collapsed in a heap to the floor, but her only thought was to signal Kelly. She spied the intercom and pressed the send button.
“It’s Nordhausen, and we’re clear, Kelly. Go get Paul!”
“Roger that…”
The sound of the turbines surrounded them as they revved up to full power. She looked at Nordhausen, and breathed heavily, granting him a moment’s sympathy. “Sorry, Robert, but we were in a little rush there. Here, let me help you get those boots off.”
She set the copy of the Seven Pillars down and moved to render assistance. Nordhausen had a glassy-eyed expression on his face, and he seemed listless and unfocused. Must be the effects of the shift, she thought, feeling more concern for him now. She got the boots off, and then removed his headdress, surprised to see how drenched he was, wet with grit and sandy mud.
“How did I get here?” Nordhausen was looking around him, still quite confused. “Kelly botched the damn numbers… Just like I said…”
“There now, take it easy.” She wished she had brought along some food or at least fresh water. The poor man was shivering with cold, and she felt an icy chill just being near to him. That was another thing they would have to fix. There would be a trained reception team for reorientation and first-aid during every retraction. “We’ll get you upstairs and see about some warm clothes and a blanket. Can you hang on here for just a moment?”
Robert’s eyes searched for her face, struggling to focus. “Oh Maeve… It’s so beautiful… So beautiful when you go through. But I’m a bit queasy. Where’s Paul? Did he make it back? Lord… do you realize where we were? I was sitting by the fire and then it started. Paul was off somewhere and we got separated—”
“Yes, we followed everything on the monitors.” Maeve ran her hand gently across his cheek, swiping away a clump of mud.
“I couldn’t find him after that. God only knows what happened to the poor devil.”
“He’ll be fine,” her voice soothed. “Kelly’s bringing him through in just another moment.”
The sound of the turbines wailed around them and Maeve knew that the final retraction was only seconds away. The breach they had driven into the fabric of the continuum was yawning open and the secret arts of quantum physics were reaching in to reclaim the last traveler, jealously pulling him back to the time where he belonged.
“I couldn’t find him…” Nordhausen blanched and passed out, keeling over to one side. Maeve moved quickly to cradle his fall, lowering him gently to the cold floor. She checked his eyes and saw that retinal response still looked good. His pulse was strong and steady. He would be fine. She settled him as best she could and waited out the impossibly long seconds that remained. Then a strange sound came to her, rising from the din of the turbines.
She listened, trying to place the sound into some familiar frame of reference. There was a long distended wash of noise, punctuated by the rhythmic panting of some metallic engine. Her first thought was that the turbines had fallen out of sync, but the more she listened the more she came to feel that she was hearing the sound of a passing train! A high pitched whistle added weight to the impression, and then the sound faded away, a desolate echo, empty and forlorn. Something brayed at its heels, like a pack of dogs chasing in its wake. The sound of the turbines devoured the echo and it was gone.
Her eyes were drawn at once to the copy of the Seven Pillars. It would take about three minutes for the retraction scheme to play itself out. She had to know.
Anxiety pulsed at her temples again as she reached for the book to open it. The place was clearly marked. All she had to do was read the passage now to see what had happened. She began turning the pages, her eyes mirroring the terrible sense of dread she felt. A part of her did not want to know what fate was ordained in those lines, but she pressed on, the dry pages rattling as she made her way to the passage Nordhausen had marked. Her finger traced down the page with a tremulous quiver, and she began to read.
27
The train was making good time, but as they approached the higher ground leading up to a pair of low hills, the gentle upward grade began to slow the engine down. It was time for another infusion of coal. They had been four hours since their last stop, not even pausing to offload cargo at Zerga, the largest town along this stretch of the rail line. There was no time. The train had to get up to Mafrak north of these hills as soon as possible. Better yet would be Deraa, for the rail spurs there were plentiful, and this was a long train.