Close Up the Sky (23 page)

He had been correct in his assumption that he could break the password
protecting the hidden file. It was a word that he and his family had used many
times over the years. He had written it himself on letters to his brother while
he was away at college. When Edward was a child he had begun a collection of
geological specimens from every vacation spot they had visited. A half-dozen
glass cases lined the walls of his room at their home, each filled with stones
of every imaginable color and texture. Everyone in the family knew his future. First
and last he was bound to be a geologist. During those childhood years his
fascination with geology had earned him his nickname, and it had stuck with him
through college and into adulthood. They called him '
Rocks'
. After he graduated from college and entered the
professional world he began using his given name, and the nickname had fallen
into disuse. Now, nobody other than a close family member ever referred to him
as Rocks. The use of his nickname as a password was the surest way for Edward
to make certain that no one other than his brother, or another family member,
would ever read this incredible file without his permission. It was almost as
though he had anticipated his disappearance and expected his big brother to
come after him. There was no other explanation for the password. He wanted to
somehow make sure that Matt was aware of the enormity of certain facts in the
event he became involved at some future date.

Leahy leaned back in his chair and stared at the computer screen. He now
knew what Babylon Station was and why it was imperative that the missing
stellarite be recovered as quickly as possible. It also explained the phone
call from the president the night he had sat in Durant's office listening to
the story of the time machine. It did not answer the question of Edward's
disappearance, but it was obvious that he had been part of the fantastic
operation from the beginning. It was also a certainty that Durant knew of
Babylon Station's existence. Without his support it would have been impossible
to successfully carry out an operation of that magnitude. It was also a
certainty that neither the scientist nor anyone else had broken Edward's
password or the file would have been instantly erased. If Babylon Station was
ever exposed it would undoubtedly mean another world war and the end of
civilization as man knew it.

Leahy had no idea who else might have knowledge of the project. At this
point the players were virtually unknown, but he had the feeling that they
would reveal themselves in one way or another as the drama continued to unfold.
There was only one other person he would trust with a secret as well
guarded
as Babylon Station, and that was Taylor. He did not
believe that she had any knowledge of the operation or she would have told him
by now. Like him, she also believed that their mission to recover the
stellarite was to save the lives of the trapped time agents. He shook his head
and continued to stare at the data on the computer screen. When compared to the
success or failure of Babylon Station, the lives of those men and women paled
to insignificance.

He was surprised to find that he had mixed emotions about his new
knowledge. If the project succeeded, it would probably eliminate many of the
despicable acts of terrorism that had plagued the world for so long. There
would be no further need for Western interference in the affairs of Middle
Eastern nations. On the other hand, it could also mean such a huge shift in the
balance of economic power in favor of the West that eventual war might be a
foregone conclusion. He was anxious to share the information with Taylor, but
he would have to use extreme caution in picking the proper place. He decided
that the safest time and place would be after they had transported into the
past.

Back in his apartment, he gathered his gear and took
one last look around. Though he had only used it for a short time, it was home.
He hoped it would not be the last time he saw it. "God help us," he
whispered to himself. He picked up his pack and went out to meet his team.

Ryan Pierce, obviously upset, burst through the doors of the Crimes
Against Persons section of the police department and confronted the lone
detective on duty.
He had been told by the front desk
receptionist
that a helicopter had delivered a sealed envelope for him,
and he was furious because he had not been notified. “Where’s the message
McDonald?" he almost screamed.

"On your desk," the other man answered quickly. He followed
Pierce across the room and watched nervously as he snatched the envelope up
from his desk. "Now damn it, Ryan, don't get pissed with
me
," he said in a pleading tone. "Nobody
told me anything about it being an emergency. How was I to know?"

Pierce was tearing at the end of the envelope. “How long has this been
here?” he demanded through clenched teeth.

McDonald shrugged and said, "I'm not sure. Maybe since just after
lunch."

"What!" Pierce exploded. "That was over five hours
ago!" He rolled his eyes at the ceiling and shook his head in disgust. "Didn't
the fact that it was delivered by a military helicopter give you a clue that it
might be important?"

McDonald held his arms out in a gesture of helplessness. Pierce was his
superior officer, and this mistake could hurt his chances for promotion to
detective first-class. "I didn't see any helicopter, Sarge," he
pleaded. "One of the clerks brought it in. You know I'd have got you in a
hurry if I had known it was that hot."

Pierce ignored him. He was totally engrossed in Leahy’s note. When he
finished reading it, he snapped another question at McDonald. "Did
somebody by the name of Leahy call here around two-thirty or three
o'clock?"

McDonald swallowed hard and shook his head. "Not to my
knowledge," he lied. In fact, he had been carrying on a personal telephone
conversation with a female clerk in the records room when the call came in
asking for Pierce. The man said it was important, but then everyone said that. He
took the man's number and promised to find Pierce right away. Instead, he
returned to his conversation with the girl and forgot about it. He cast a
furtive glance at the yellow sticky note lying on his desk where he had written
the message from Leahy. He had started the lie, now he would have to finish it.
After all, he had not identified himself when he answered the phone, so this
man Leahy did not know to whom he had talked. He hoped Pierce would not see the
note before he could destroy it.

"You sure?" Pierce demanded. "This says he was going to
call from the airport."

McDonald spread his hands in front of him. "No calls, Sarge. I'm
sure."

Pierce eyed him closely then read the message again. He felt the blood
drain from his face as he jerked Leahy’s original note from his pocket and
compared the two pieces of paper. With trembling fingers he picked up the phone
and dialed a number inside the police department. When the phone was answered
on the other end he said, "Hunt, this is
Pierce
. Take
a look at the papers we recovered with that body at the airport. What's the
name again?" There was a pause,
then
he swallowed
hard. "You sure?" Another pause. "Yeah, thanks, Hunt." He
hung the phone up and sat perfectly still, staring at the wall.

McDonald, who had been listening to the one-sided conversation, sat down
at his own desk and surreptitiously crumpled the sticky note. "You okay,
Sarge? You look like you just saw a ghost or something."

Pierce slowly turned his head and stared at him
without expression. Then, without answering, he snatched up the phone and began
dialing. "Oh, God," he said as he dialed. "Oh hell!"

Leahy watched the two Land Rovers disappear around the edge of a low
hill, leaving swirling clouds of dust in the air. The late afternoon sky was a
deep shade of blue, totally unmarred except for the contrail of an aircraft
high overhead. He shaded his eyes from the sun and squinted at the plane. He
wondered if it was the same military ship that had delivered them to Egypt two
hours before. He watched it for a few seconds then dismissed the thought. It
was travelling in the wrong direction to be headed toward home.

He dropped his eyes from the sky and looked around the horizon. The
drivers of the rented Land Rovers had dropped his team and their equipment off
in a remote section of the desert near the Valley of the Kings. A few miles to
the south, a small range of low hills jutted rocky peaks against the skyline. To
the west, two large mountains with steep sides and flat tops occupied the
terrain. Other than that, there was nothing to break the seemingly endless
expanse of reddish-brown sand and broken stone.

The sun felt hot on his face but the L-suit kept his body relatively
comfortable. He looked up again, not really expecting to see anything, but
knowing that somewhere beyond his range of vision where blue sky turned into
the blackness of space, a satellite was preparing to transmit the beam of
energy that would hurl them over three thousand years into the past. Butterflies
fluttered in his stomach. In spite of all the mental preparation he had made,
the thought was still awe-inspiring. He tried to imagine how the landscape
might have changed in three thousand years. How much had the distant mountains
been worn down by wind and water; were their flat tops once more jagged? Was
the small patch of desert on which they now stood a safe place to be, or would
they materialize inside a hill long since worn away by the elements? Would the
air turn to crystal and have a different smell once freed of its burden of
modern pollutants? In those ancient days was the water pure and safe to drink
without being subjected to tons of chemicals? And what about man? Were his
numbers still so small in comparison to today's population that the Earth would
seem relatively empty?

He thought of Pierce and the fact that he had not returned his call at
the airport. Something had obviously gone wrong, and that bothered him more
than he cared to admit. Now, he was about to plunge into a time where he might
desperately need the information he had requested. A stream of sweat trickled
down the side of his face and he realized that his hands were trembling. He
took a deep breath and exhaled hard. The sudden depletion of oxygen sent a
soothing sensation through his body and relaxed his nerves.

“Anxiety and excitement are always at war with each other the first
time,” Taylor soothed, seeing his nervousness. “I remember being simultaneously
thrilled and terrified. But after the first trip it's never the same. You get
used to it."

"Does it hurt?" He pretended to be serious, then grinned. "I'm
allergic to pain."

"You can say that again," added Williams, who had also been
watching the sky. "How much time do we have before
.........?
"
he let the question trail off, not really expecting anyone to answer.

Summerhour picked up his pack and put it on. As though anticipating a
shock he jerked on the strap ends, pulling them tight against his shoulders. "Apache
Point will transmit the energy beam sixty seconds after they receive our
signal," he said. He took a small black box from his pocket and pressed
his thumb against the lower right corner. In response, a cover at the top
popped up revealing a tiny screen with a row of lighted numerals. Beneath each
numeral was a button that could be used to change the numbers up or down.

Leahy recognized it as one of the homing devices the agents called
pagers. Each member of the group had a pager identical to the one in
Summerhour's hand. The only difference was that an individual pager would
respond only to the thumbprint of its owner. Under no circumstances could he
open Summerhour's and vice versa. The reasoning behind it was one of safety. Once
opened, anyone could use a pager to reach through time and activate the
Chronocom. Though precautions were taken to see that it never happened, there
was always the danger that an open pager could fall into the hands of one of
the ancients. Opening only to a particular thumbprint prevented potentially
disastrous incidents.

"Better put on your equipment," Summerhour added as he glanced
skyward. Although he knew nothing would be visible, habit made him look in the
general direction of the satellite.

They followed his instructions then waited while he manipulated the
buttons on his pager. When he was satisfied with the setting, he closed the
flap. The action caused the pager to emit a loud beep. "Sixty
seconds," he warned. His voice seemed overly loud in the still air.

"Any special instructions?" asked Williams in a nervous voice.

Summerhour shook his head and squinted at the sky. "Just keep your
feet firmly planted and flex your knees. There's no shock from the energy beam,
but there's a possibility that the ground you’re standing on may be of a
different configuration after the transfer. We'll be deposited on whatever
surface was on this spot three thousand years ago, whether it's level or
not."

Leahy tightened the straps of his pack as he had seen Summerhour do. The
jerking motion caused a rivulet of sweat to break loose from his hairline and
trickle down his face. He noticed that Williams seemed unusually composed, a
condition that belied the nervousness in his voice. He was about to make a
comment about it when Summerhour announced the remaining time.

"Ten seconds."

Taylor reached out and held his hand.

"Should we say good luck, or is that bad luck?" he asked her.

"It's as easy as falling down Alice’s rabbit hole," she
responded.

Her reply was the last words he heard in the twenty-first century.

R
amses II, King of Egypt, Lord
of the Two Lands, and Favored of Amen, stood on the west terrace of his palace
gazing in the direction of the Valley of the Kings. The city of Thebes spread
out below him in maze-like profusion. Its buildings glowed orange in the
slanting rays of the morning sun, and waves of heat made the distant hills of
the desert move in a wavering dance. Beyond the city flowed the glassine ribbon
of the Nile, Mother of Egypt. On the river a barge moved northward carrying its
burden of grain and trade goods to distant Memphis. Water droplets cascading from
its straining oars caught the sunlight and sparkled like diamonds in the clear
air.