The Gordian Protocol Read online

  “We stick with the solution we have,” Philo said. “Because it’s all we have. We go with that and we keep busting through obstacles until we succeed.”

  “Okay. Yeah.” He stood a little straighter. “Thanks. I needed that.”

  “Any time, buddy.”

  “So…” Raibert grimaced at the command table, then at Philo. “Where were we again?”

  *

  “That’s going to be a problem.” Philo crossed his arms and stared at the linear time graph over the command table. Everything between 1905 and 1995 glowed red.

  “We need to stay away from the twentieth century for now,” Raibert said. “With Shigeki’s goons on the way, we can’t go in until we have some way to narrow the search. We need something that will give us an edge. Some way to sort through this problem for when we do have to dive into that nest of vipers.”

  “You’re right about that.”

  “But what could give us…” Raibert snapped his fingers. “Of course!”

  Philo grinned. “Oh, you’ve got that look again.”

  “Don’t you see? We do have a one critical piece of information Shigeki doesn’t.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “The resonance!”

  “Okay.” Philo’s grin vanished. “What about it?”

  “Remember, my former body was resonating with another universe. We thought it was a different universe, but what if it wasn’t? What if—given the changes in the timeline—I wasn’t resonating with a different universe at all. What if I was resonating with what this universe used to be!”

  “Hmm.” Philo took on a thoughtful look as he processed the proposition. “Okay, the raw data may support that assumption, but I still don’t see how this helps us.”

  “What if there are other individuals who were affected by the Knot in the same way?”

  “I think if there were other SysGov TTVs roaming around, we would have spotted them by now.”

  “No, not that. I mean indigenous people.”

  “Oh.” Both of Philo’s eyebrows shot up at the same time.

  “What if one of them had a connection to our version of the timeline? And what if their connection was stronger because they’re native to the timeline around the Knot? Maybe even strong enough that they remember both timelines?”

  “You know, I think you might be on to something. Kleio, we’re going parallel. We need to crunch some numbers.”

  “I am at your service, Philosophus.”

  Philo crossed his arms and closed his eyes. A minute passed before his eyes shot open and his mouth formed an O.

  “Something wrong?” Raibert asked.

  “Uhh…” Philo clapped his jaw shut and didn’t make eye contact. “It’s nothing. Just an interesting wrinkle in the data.”

  “Are you sure? Because, you just made a face.”

  “It’s not important now. I’ll flag it for later analysis.” Philo visibly collected himself before continuing. “It looks like you’re definitely onto something, but the biggest problem with what you said is quantum variation between the two timelines. The more variation, the weaker the connection. However, if we start looking at cases with fewer atoms, we can cut down on the variation considerably and improve our chances of finding someone with strong resonance.”

  “So we look for someone who was a child when the Knot formed?”

  “No, even further back than that. A child already has a developed connectome. Even if there was any resonance, I think the existing connectome would just step all over it. You certainly didn’t have dual memories. We want as blank a slate as possible with as few atoms as possible when the resonance is established. I’m thinking what we’re looking for is someone who was just a pair of gametes in his or her parents before the Knot and was then conceived after the Knot.” He let out a long, slow exhale. “This is going to be a problem.”

  “How so?”

  “Do you know how many sperm get fired off during intercourse?”

  “Umm…no.”

  “About a hundred million. Factor in all sorts of tiny variations, and the chances of pregnancies being the same across both timestreams becomes vanishingly small. And the pregnancies have to be the same. Otherwise, there’s nothing to resonate with.”

  “But our chances aren’t zero.”

  “No, definitely not zero. We’re just looking at a very small subset of pregnancies.”

  “How small?”

  “Around two per billion.”

  “Hmm.” Raibert slouched, feeling deflated. “That is small.”

  “But not zero,” Philo repeated. “This can still work. We have the resonance pattern recorded off your old body. We know what we need to search for. We just need the parents to exist before the Knot. That increases the number of pregnancies in the set that could be duplicates and improves our odds of finding one that is.”

  “How close do we have to be to detect the resonance?” Raibert asked.

  “We’re going to have to be in phase and very close. I’d say within a kilometer for our array to pick up a clear signal.”

  “Then we need to narrow down our search further. We can’t hunt aimlessly with the Admin on the prowl.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Any thoughts?”

  “The resonance might cause mental problems if the dual memories take hold. We could look for that.”

  “All right, then.” Raibert shifted the graphical timeline over into the twenty-first century. “Since Shigeki’s looking for us in the twentieth century, I say we start in the twenty-first. We can drop in here, at 2060, and take a look around. We don’t have to pass through the storm to reach it, and whatever global infosystem exists in this timestream should be robust enough by then. All we do is drop in, link up, and peruse their medical records at our leisure.”

  “Sounds like a plan to me.”

  “Kleio, how’s the shroud doing?”

  “It is fully operational, Professor. I should be able to remain undetected by period surveillance systems.”

  “Good,” Raibert said. “Then that’s where we head.”

  *

  “So this is the storm that will destroy the universe,” Shigeki said. Pathfinder-Prime lurched, but the seat harness held him firmly in place. The churning, writhing seizure in time filled his virtual vision, and eleven chronoports held their distance at plus two hours while Pathfinder-12 flew ahead.

  “We’re entering the storm now, Director,” Hinnerkopf sent from Pathfinder-12. The ship’s telegraph possessed only limited bandwidth for data transmission, so Hinnerkopf’s response came through as text that was then converted into synthesized speech. The voice lacked the inflection and subtlety of speaking to her in person, but it beat having to read out every response.

  “How are you doing?”

  “Let me put it this way. I’m glad I ate a light lunch.”

  “I can imagine.” Shigeki chuckled, but then the humor washed away as Pathfinder-Prime shook again.

  “Traversing the storm is rough but manageable. However, we should cross it slowly. I recommend nothing above a kilofactor. Anything higher and we might damage our impellers.”

  “Understood. Are you getting everything else you need?”

  “Yes, Director. Data collection is proceeding smoothly, though I’ll need some time to study it afterward. However, one thing is immediately obvious. This massively powerful chronometric phenomenon is closing on the True Present.”

  “And that means what exactly?” Kloss sent from Pathfinder-2.

  “It means Professor Kaminski is right. The universe is going to end in about thirteen hundred years.”

  “And perhaps a lot sooner for us,” Shigeki murmured.

  “Precisely, Director. Everything we find corroborates his story. It only makes sense that his existential threat to our timeline is also true.”

  “And that’s why we’re not going to let it happen. First we deal with him; then we deal with untying this damned ‘knot’ of his.”
/>   “Pathfinder-12 now clear of the storm, Director. We’re moving on to our next objective.”

  “Good. Report your findings when ready.”

  “Yes, Director. Phasing in now.”

  Shigeki waited while Pathfinder-12 made a series of quick microjumps through 2049. It took no more than a few minutes of absolute time.

  “Test complete, Director,” Hinnerkopf sent.

  “And?”

  “I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, but it’s true. Changes to the timeline within the storm do propagate downstream. This section of history is, for whatever reason, in a highly malleable state.”

  “What’s your takeaway from this?”

  “Again, it matches everything else we learned from the professor. Beyond that, I honestly can’t say what the risks are. This phenomenon is too far outside our experiences for anything beyond guesswork. I need more time.”

  “In that case, we’ll play it safe,” Shigeki said. “Once we pass the storm, all chronoports are to remain non-congruent unless you spot the TTV or receive authorization from Pathfinder-Prime. For now, we proceed as planned and establish the picket. Captain Durantt, take us through the storm.”

  “Yes, Director. Pathfinder Squadron: ahead one kilofactor.”

  *

  Raibert poked at the sizzling filet mignon. The blue cheese crumble melted over the top, and the meat underneath was so tender he could cut it with his fork. He jabbed it a few more times and gave it a gloomy eye.

  “Philo?”

  “Yeah?” The Viking appeared on the other side of the command table. Something seemed off about the avatar’s mood, but Raibert ignored it.

  “I’m not hungry,” he moaned.

  “Then don’t eat.”

  “But I haven’t eaten all day. I should be hungry.”

  “Then eat.”

  “But there’s no reason for me to eat this succulent, mouth-watering, perfectly cooked steak, is there?”

  “Please don’t say it like that. Now you’re starting to make me hungry.”

  “Sorry.”

  “But to answer your question, no, there’s no reason for you to eat it. Admin synthoids do need some maintenance, but the occasional microbot injections will take care of that for you.”

  “I want to want to eat it, but I don’t want to eat it. Does that make sense?”

  “Perfectly. It’s called PSS.”

  Raibert tossed the fork onto his plate and crossed his arms.

  “Look, I’m just being honest here,” Philo said.

  “I know you are, buddy.”

  “You doing okay?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.” Raibert pushed his plate aside.

  “You’ve been getting better. All things considered, I’d say you’re doing quite well.”

  “Pfft!”

  “No, I’m serious,” Philo said. “I know it’s been tough, but I’m actually surprised by how fast you’ve adjusted to your new body. For one, I thought the size difference would give you more trouble.”

  “Oh, that?” Raibert’s expression brightened and he gestured across his broad chest. “I actually figured out a good trick for that. I’ve just been pretending I’m Terry again.”

  “Aha!” Philo snapped his fingers.

  Raibert winked at him.

  Terisobok-Kazanyari the Burninator (or “Terry” to his friends) was Raibert’s level 12 lawful-neutral character from Solar Descent. The massive lizardman grenadier might not have been exactly the same size as his STAND synthoid, but spending more hours than he cared to admit inside the science-fantasy abstraction had made getting used to the physical aspects of his new body almost an afterthought.

  Philo had introduced him to the game years ago, and it had quickly become a favorite of theirs, which pleased the AC to no end. Philo had been regularly playing the game since before Raibert was born and sometimes joined in with one of his pantheon of max-level characters. But more often than not the AC took on the role of game master for Raibert and their close circle of friends, where he used his expertise to arrange results both hilarious and cruel. It still cracked Raibert up when he thought back to their epic rescue of Lola the teenage star seer. They’d battled their way through waves of reassembling necro-drones, nearly became puppets of a cruel cyber-lich, and even vanquished a lesser avatar of the abyssal god Singularity before finally rescuing the seer…only to hear the petite girl give them their next quest in Philo’s gruff voice.

  “Didn’t think of that,” the Viking admitted. “That’s pretty clever.”

  “See? I have some good ideas on occasion. Though I will say…” He glanced over a shoulder, “the lack of a tail is throwing me off a bit.”

  “We could always ask Kleio to add one, if you think it’ll help.”

  “Oh, hell no!” He spun to face Philo and pointed a stern finger, but the effect was ruined by a grin that slipped out. “Don’t you dare give her any bright ideas!”

  Philo chuckled. “I’m kidding, of course.”

  *

  “So, have we found anything yet?” Raibert brought up the TTV’s external view. The ship hovered over the North American eastern seaboard and was now lazily floating south past Norfolk, Virginia, with the metamaterial shroud wrapped around the hull.

  Each Aion-class TTV came equipped with a deployable stealth shroud capable of concealing the entire craft from most photon-based detection systems. However, the vessel was limited to subsonic speeds when shrouded due to the low error tolerances of the metamaterial’s light-bending configuration. When in high-speed or temporal flight, the shroud would be retracted and stowed in shallow blisters that dotted the hull.

  Preservation TTVs on smash-and-grab missions rarely required such subterfuge, though stealthier approaches had become more common after the Alexandria Raid. Observation TTVs, on the other hand, very often needed to preserve the sanctity of the timeline, and the shroud’s ability to fool anything from the human eye to advanced radar systems proved essential when concealing a flying time machine as large as a twenty-first-century naval destroyer.

  “Nothing I’d call a solid lead,” Philo said. “Some maybes I’m filing for later if we don’t turn up anything better.”

  Two dozen green dots on the map showed the location of the Kleio’s stealthed remotes as they connected to the Internet or infiltrated various medical and government institutions by physically attaching to their server farms.

  “I’ve been downloading a lot of eBooks, though,” Philo said.

  “Oh yeah? What for?”

  “Been stocking up on twentieth-century history writings. That way, we at least have better information on what the current timeline is all about.”

  “Good idea. Well, keep at it.”

  Raibert picked up his knife and fork, then cut another piece off his half-finished filet mignon. He was about to plop it into his mouth when he noticed Philo’s forlorn expression.

  “Some light reading has also helped take my mind off…”

  “Off of what?” Raibert set his utensils down and walked over to the avatar.

  “Well, it came up when Kleio and I were analyzing the resonance.”

  “Yeah? What about it?”

  “We found something I didn’t tell you about right away.”

  Raibert raised an eyebrow at him.

  “Not that I was keeping anything secret, mind you!” Philo held up both palms. “It’s just you had enough crap to deal with. And now, since we seem to have some downtime, I thought you might want to know.”

  “Know…what?”

  “You’re not going to like it,” the avatar admitted. “And you don’t technically have to hear about this. It doesn’t directly relate to the Knot.”

  “I don’t know why you’re pussyfooting around. I’ve had a lot of practice recently with absorbing bad news. How bad could it be?”

  Philo cringed.

  “Is it worse than my body getting tossed into a blender?” Raibert asked pointedly. />
  “Probably?” Philo offered.

  “Okay, but there’s no way it’s worse than the Knot.”

  “Umm. Maybe?”

  “Maybe?” Raibert blurted. “It’s maybe worse than the destruction of sixteen universes?”

  “Depends on your point of view.”

  “My point of view? And you don’t think I have to hear this?”

  “Not if you don’t want to.”

  “Well, it’s a little late for that, Philo! You brought it up, so just get this over with and hit me with the bad news already!”

  “All right.” The avatar cleared his virtual throat before continuing. “You know those sixteen universes that are all tangled together?”

  “Yes,” Raibert said suspiciously.

  “Where did they come from?”

  “I…” He stopped and thought. “Okay, I have no idea. I guess I just assumed they were always there or something. You know, part of the grand multiverse or whatever you want to call it.”

  Philo shook his head.

  “They’re not?” Raibert asked.

  “No. Some of them formed recently, relative to the Edge of Existence.”

  “Then where did they come from?”

  “Raibert,” Philo sighed, “I think we’ve been wrong all along.”

  “Which ‘we’ are you referring to here?”

  “ART. The Ministry. SysGov. Take your pick. I think we’ve been very wrong for a very long time.”

  “Well, we’ve known that about ART for quite a while, buddy!”

  “No, Raibert. This is worse. Way worse.”

  Raibert swallowed audibly and waited for the AC to continue.

  “Imagine a possibility, if you will.” Philo put both his hands together as if praying. “We now know for a fact that time can be changed. What if, just for the sake of argument, the timeline was always being changed?”

  “But that’s impossible. We have mountains of evidence that it wasn’t.”

  “Do we?” Philo formed a V with his hands. “What if instead of the changes fading away on their own, each intrusion caused the timeline to branch”—he spread his hands apart—“and spawn a new universe?”

  “But that…”

  “Would mean that everything we’ve done and everything ART has done is real. Not in our universe, but still very real in one next door.”