The Edge of Forever (4 page)

“Come on, Bridger, what happened? And don’t even think about lying to me.” He folds his arms across his chest like he does when he won’t take no for an answer.

That stings. I’ve never lied to him or any of my professors. You can’t if you want to be the best in your class. He knows that.

But what if he doesn’t believe me? Before I can stop myself, I tell him everything. The expressions that flicker across Professor March’s face would almost be comical if the circumstances were different. By the time I’m finished, he’s shaking his head.

“So you think I’m lying?” I ask, feeling heat flush my face. “It’s the truth. I swear. Dad was there. He told me to save some chick named Alora. If you don’t believe me, check my vid feed. Or better yet, go back and see for yourself.”

I don’t know why I tell him to go back. The DTA has to approve all emergency shifts to investigate an event. Professor March couldn’t just go because he wanted to go. That would be against the law. Just like it’s against the law for Time Benders to shift to the past to witness any little thing.

Professor March runs his hands over his head. “I don’t doubt that you
think
you saw him.”

“I did. He spoke to me.” My fist hurts from how hard I’m rubbing it. I force my hands apart.

Even though Dad was cloaked when he appeared, our comm-sets can detect his heat signature. I have proof.

“It’s not that simple, Bridger.” He takes a breath and says, “Look, I don’t want you to say anything about seeing Leithan for now.” The first thing that pops in my head is that’s crazy, but he holds up a hand. “No, listen to me. There are some things I can’t tell you about your father’s work, but I need you to trust me.”

“But—”

“I mean it, Bridger. Don’t say anything yet. It’s what your father would’ve wanted. Am I understood?”

I have no idea if that’s true, but I do know he always told me to trust Professor March. Always. So I nod.

A relieved smile crosses his face. “Good. Now there’s one more thing.”

“What’s that, sir?”

“You’re not going to like this.” He reaches out for my shoulder, but then his hand veers quickly toward my neck. I feel a sharp sting. “I’ve been ordered to sedate you.”

I want to run away again, but the sedative is already coursing through my body. My legs turn to rubber. Professor March catches me as I fall against his chest.

“Trust me,” he whispers as the world grows dark. “I promised Leithan I’d look after you. Everything will be fine.”

“Mr. Creed, can you hear me?”

I blink a few times and try to focus on the man standing by my side. Dark hair, too-smooth skin, perfect teeth, dressed completely in white. Definitely a doc.

“I need you to keep still, okay?” His tone is friendly, but his eyes are cold. I feel like the lowest form of slime under his gaze. My mouth is dry as a desert, so I nod and try to sit up. The doc puts his hand on my chest. “Not yet. I’m running one last test.”

My eyes flick down my body. I’m dressed in my black Skivvies and nothing else. Silver med patches are attached to my arms, legs, and chest. I examine the rest of the room. Everything is too bright. Bright white walls and floor. Bright lights. Completely familiar because we have to have a checkup after every time trip.

I’m back at the Academy.

So who’s this guy? I’ve never seen him before.

Memories of the time trip fill my mind like I’ve entered a Sim Game. Only this is real. I let out a groan. This is a nightmare come to life. My girlfriend was seriously hurt, and I don’t know how she’s doing. Plus I saw my dead father. And Professor March doesn’t want me to tell anybody. But I need answers. Now.

Before I can ask the doc what’s going on, he begins tugging at the med patches. Each one stings as he snatches them off my skin.

I clear my throat. “Do you know what’s going on with Vika Fairbanks?”

He yanks the last patch off particularly hard. “I’m not at liberty to discuss anything.”

What the hell? The docs here usually are full of questions. They want all the details of our time trips. One even confessed to being jealous because she can’t travel like we can. She said she wasn’t lucky enough to inherit one of the Talent Genes—those that allow some people to travel through time, travel anywhere with just a thought, or read minds.

I sit up and swing my legs off the side of the exam table. My vision swims from moving so fast. I close my eyes until the room quits tilting.

“Be careful,” the doc says. “I gave you a dose of Calmer while you were sedated.”

I guess I should be grateful. With everything that’s happened today, I’d be wilding out without it. “Thanks. So, can I go now?”

“No. Chancellor Tyson is on his way to see you.”

My mouth drops open. “Why?”

Even though Chancellor Doran Tyson is the head of the Academy, we rarely see him on campus. He’s always at public functions that promote the Academy. Huge banquets put on once a month when new Sim Games are debuted or another Virtual Trip is about to be uploaded to the History Alive Network. Dad said that Chancellor Tyson loves pissing off the Purists by flaunting the positive effects of time travel on our economy. But dealing with day-to-day matters is something he usually leaves to his assistant chancellors or the professors.

Unless something bad is about to go down.

The doc’s eyes seem to harden even more. “I said I’m not at liberty to discuss.”

“Fine,” I snap. What a prick. It wouldn’t kill him to tell me something.

Then it occurs to me that things with Vika might not be so good. She wasn’t breathing the last time I saw her. No, it can’t be that.

It can’t
.

The doc taps something on his DataPad and inclines his head toward a small table next to the wall. “You can get dressed.”

He leaves the room without another look at me. I hop off the table and unfold my uniform. It smells faintly like sweat and Vika’s favorite perfume. I inhale the cherry scent, feeling sick. I can’t get the image of her lying on the cracked pavement out of my head. I want to see her smiling and laughing. Alive. She can’t be dead. Maybe she’s in critical condition and Chancellor Tyson wants to tell me personally since Dad died last month. I hope that’s the worst it could be.

After I’m dressed, I walk by the door, but it doesn’t whoosh open automatically like it should when I get within a foot of the sensor. Definitely not good.

There’s nothing I can do. I’m locked in here. I don’t have my DataLink, so I can’t talk to anybody or look up any info about the trip in the DataFeed. Then again, it wouldn’t be on there. Chancellor Tyson would see to that. You never see negative news about the Academy.

I’ve probably done a hundred laps around the room by the time Chancellor Tyson enters. He’s dressed in his usual black Academy uniform. Professor March is with him. I feel a weird mix of resentment and relief. Mad that Professor March sedated me the way he did. Glad that he’s here to buffer whatever Chancellor Tyson has to say.

The last time I spoke to the chancellor was at Dad’s memorial service. He firmly shook my hand and told me if I ever needed anything to not hesitate to ask.

I’m hesitating now.

His face is like a storm of anger and sorrow. He stands in front of me, hands on hips, and stares. Again, I feel like the lowest form of life on earth.

“Mr. Creed, we have some questions for you.”

The door opens again and a gray-haired man dressed in a navy military uniform enters. I blink and glance at Professor March, trying not to look surprised. It’s General Thomas Anderson—the head of the Department of Temporal Affairs’ military division. He was Dad’s superior officer. He’s also the jerk who refused to tell us how Dad actually died because his final mission was classified.

General Anderson shakes hands with Chancellor Tyson and Professor March. I want to ignore him when he stretches his hand toward me. But I can hear Dad’s voice telling me to man up.

“Bridger, son, it’s been too long since I’ve seen you.”

My teeth grind together when he says
son
.

“I won’t keep you long. I just need you to answer a few questions, then you’ll be free to go.”

Really? I thought Chancellor Tyson was in charge at the Academy.

General Anderson coughs in his hand before saying, “Now, it’s come to my attention that you thought you saw Leithan while you were on your time trip. Is this correct?”

My eyes flick to Professor March. His face is blank. No help there. So do I tell the truth or lie like Professor March wanted? And I wonder why they’re even asking me. Surely they’ve already sent an investigative team back to observe the events. They should already know Dad was there.

“Bridger,” Chancellor Tyson interrupts. “We heard what you said on the vid feed. Did you really see your father or did you
think
you saw him?”

“Why are you asking me this? Haven’t you investigated already?” I ask.

Chancellor Tyson and General Anderson exchange an odd glance with each other. I frown, wondering what is going on.

General Anderson says, “We did send a team back, but they didn’t note any evidence of your father being there.”

My mouth opens and I quickly shut it. That can’t be right. I know what I saw. My dad was there. He
was
.

Or was he? What if I just imagined the whole thing? They want to know what I
thought
I saw. If I’m crazy or not. That’s why Professor March asked me to deny seeing Dad. He’s looking out for my career. The Academy can’t have a nutso Time Bender. But, still, I hate lying.

“It’s understandable if you imagined seeing him. After all, you lost him recently.” General Anderson’s voice is smooth and reassuring. Just like it was when he refused to give me any answers after Dad died.

I wonder why he’s even here. What does it matter to him if I saw Dad on this time trip? Does it have anything to do with the classified mission Dad was on? I have to find out. “Was Dad at the Foster Assassination for his last assignment?”

General Anderson’s lips flatten to a thin line. “I can’t divulge the nature of Leithan’s last mission, but I can reassure you he never shifted to the Foster Assassination at any point during his education or career.”

I’m not sure what’s going on, but I don’t believe him. Still, I don’t want them to think I’m insane. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I just thought I saw him. It was really crowded.”

General Anderson smiles. “That’s what I thought. And can you tell us your version of the events that happened there?”

I want to ask why doesn’t he just question his team that went back to witness everything, but I don’t. Instead I quickly relate how I left my assigned position, and how I discovered Vika was hurt.

Chancellor Tyson asks, “Is there anything else you want to add?”

“No, sir.”

“Okay, that’s all I need,” General Anderson says. He shakes hands with Chancellor Tyson and Professor March again. “Good to see you two, though I wish it wasn’t under these circumstances.”

After he leaves, Chancellor Tyson gives me a long, hard look. “There’s something else we need to discuss before you’re dismissed.”

I begin to rub my fist. This is bad. I shake my head and step back. “It’s Vika, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid so. I wanted to be the one to inform you that Miss Fairbanks is in serious condition. The med staff is doing everything they can for her, but she’s in a coma and there is little chance she will regain consciousness.”

No. This can’t be happening. Not to happy, smiling, always-there-for-me Vika. She has to wake up. She
has
to. “I don’t understand. How could this happen? Can’t you do anything else for her?”

Chancellor Tyson shakes his head and says, “Bridger, she was trampled by hundreds of ghosts. Her injuries are quite severe.”

“This . . . this is all my fault,” I choke out.

Professor March is suddenly by my side. “Bridger, it’s not your fault. She left her position on her own free will, and she wasn’t trying to follow you. It looked like she was trying to get a better view of the president.”

I hear what he’s saying, but it doesn’t help. If I hadn’t followed Dad—if it
was
Dad—I could have made sure Vika didn’t go too close to that damn stage. She’d be fine.

I wish I could change things. Before I can stop myself, I blurt, “Let’s go back. We can stop all of this from happening. Not a lot of time has passed yet.”

“No,” Chancellor Tyson says. “You, better than anyone, should know that’s not an option.”

My hands shake, so I ball them at my sides. He’s right. That’s the first rule of time travel. The timeline is sacred. Nothing can be changed, ever. After Dad died, I wanted to go back and save him too. Just like a lot of people wanted to go back and save their loved ones before me. It was a huge source of conflict a few years before the turn of the century when the public learned that genetic manipulation had resulted in people who could travel to the past.

Then the Department of Temporal Affairs was established. Rules were created and order was imposed. All emergency trips to the recent past have to be completed by a special team from the DTA who only observe the events. The past has to stay the same or the world we live in today could be destroyed.

It doesn’t make the hurt any easier, though. Pain rips through my chest, one stab after another. Professor March said it wasn’t my fault, but it doesn’t feel that way. It should’ve been me.

My voice sounds hollow as I ask, “Can I see her?”

“I’m sorry. Only immediate family can visit her.” Chancellor Tyson says, then he clears his throat. “And there’s one more thing.”

Professor March scowls at Chancellor Tyson. “Do you have to sentence him now?”

Sentence? What sentence? I look between them. It’s like a bad dream, like I’m not really here.

“I have to,” Chancellor Tyson says. “Bridger, I’m sorry, but because you violated orders and left your position, and because your partner was seriously injured, I have to suspend you from the Academy, pending a full investigation.”

4

ALORA

APRIL 8, 2013

“W
ell, are you gonna answer me or just look around the room?” Aunt Grace asks. Her hands are on her hips and the worried expression she wore moments before has morphed into one that screams I’m in trouble.