Chapter 1

It was a warm October day, when my life changed so suddenly. I was working in what the locals generally call “the lab”, when I got the call. Picking up the phone, I gave it my usual greeting.

“Hello, Hello.”

“Dr. Calin, please.”

“Speaking.”

“This is General McCabe, from the Air Force. I’m flying out to your research lab, by helicopter, and will be there in about 2 hours. You need to be there, for my arrival. I’d like you to call your assistant in. I’ll need to speak with her, as well.”

“What’s this all about, General?”

I thought it was fair question; and was pretty sure it was one of my neighbors, playing a trick on me. It wouldn’t be the first time that the locals, from around my lab, played tricks. But usually it consisted of graffiti of me, doing rather obscene things.

“It’s a matter of national security; and that’s about all I can say, over an unsecured line.”

“Well then, I’ll be here. I’ll ask Sandy to show up, as well.”

“Very good, Dr. Calin. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

With that, the phone clicked silent, and I hung up. Picking it back up again, I called my research assistant’s cell phone. On the third ring, she picked up.

“Hi, TJ. What’s up.”

I hate caller ID, because it always gives away your advantage.

“Sandy, I need you here, in an hour. Before you go whining about finals, school, and how you’re always on call; just remember who’s the boss.”

“Come on, TJ. I’ve spent every day this week, there. Unless you’re going turn the damn thing on, I’ve got to study.”

“I think that’s exactly what’s going to happen.”

“No shit?! I’ll be there in twenty minutes!” she said.

“No, make it an hour. I’ve got some stuff I’m working on.”

“Ok, need me to bring anything?”

“Just the standard box of Krispy Kreme’s.”

“Done, see you in an hour.”

With that done I started up the coffee pot, setting it for 12 cups instead of the usual four. You never know how many people it takes to get a General somewhere.

I’d not really been expecting this sort of call, as I had been only ‘cautiously’ optimistic, in my reports to the military. They knew what I was working on, and they new it’s potential. I didn’t think I’d get enough funding to try it anywhere, except in simulations.

I went back to my simulator again, and finished the most recent simulation. Everything seemed to be working properly. The space/time Vortex opened, my simulated vehicle entered shiny and new only to exit a twisted wreck of hot metal. Despite appearances, I was pleased with it. It seemed to be about four degrees cooler this time, than last. Cheers, for small successes.

The “Lab” I work in, is actually the remnant of a military warehouse. Several warehouses, actually. A number of other experimenters work in the area. Usually kids with wild ideas, or adults with wilder ideas. I’m one of the ‘in-between’ crazy inventors. I made a name for myself in string theory, and multi-dimensional math. Then hit upon the idea of time travel. Nobody wanted to fund such an odd idea. Here at crackpot alley the government rents the space out to us, for one dollar per year.

With a forty year lease, paid up front, it’s all mine.

I began plugging away at the simulation again seeing what I might do differently. I was trying to get something to cross the Vortex a little bit more intact, and/or cooler. I wasn’t going to try it until I knew it wasn’t going to roast me alive, much less twist me inside out.

As Sandy pulled up in her red Honda hatchback, she honked to have me let her in. I hit the big red button, and the lab entrance opened up.

“So, boss, spill it. What the hell is going on, around here?”

“I got a call from the Military. They’re heading here to talk to me, and they want you here, too.”

“No kidding? Did they say what they wanted to talk about?”

“Nope, just that they wanted both of us here.”

Sandy flipped a curly string of blonde hair from out of her eyes; and marched over to her seat, next to mine, at the simulator. Her cowboy boots knocked loudly, each time they hit the cement floor. I never did understand why the particle physicist, was such a cowgirl.

“Newest simulation shows a four degree drop in thermal climb, on exit,” I told her.

“Four degrees isn’t much, considering we’re dealing with a nine hundred degree total temperature rise.”

“But, it’s an improvement.”

“We could try cooling the transport item before sending it, again. The temperature difference is a lot better than when we had our first simulation.”

“Yeah, I thought about that. Go ahead, and lower the temperature again. Let’s see what happens.”

The space/time Vortex opened, and the transport vehicle moved through it. It again came out the other side, very twisted; but at a reasonable temperature (for heavy-duty electronics). I also noticed the damage wasn’t as bad, because the steel in the vehicle hadn’t been heated up enough to make it flexible.

“Not as bad, is it, boss.”

“No, Sandy, not bad at all. Notice the damage is still a sort of twisting, in the same direction.”

“Just like before. Have you tried simulating at a higher power level with this, yet?”

“No, just using minimal power. It’s a pretty small item.”

“Ok, well let’s try it again. Only let’s simulate with 500 megawatts.”

The simulation kicked off again, with a nearly frozen transport vehicle moving through the Vortex. It popped out the other side, again noticeably wrenched, and rather warmer than the previous try.

“Well that proves power ratios affect heat of the item, on arrival.”

“Sandy, look at the front of the simulation transport vehicle,” I said.

“It’s hardly twisted around the center, at all,” she observed.

“I wonder if it’s like a giant storm; and things are stable, at the very center.”

“You mean like in a hurricane, where in the center, there’s an eye?” Sandy said.

“Yes, exactly. Let’s save this simulation, and get the place cleaned up a bit. The General and his keepers will be here any time.”

Twenty minutes later we heard the helicopter fly overhead, and land near by. The local military guard and grounds force would drive them up to our lab.

Three minutes later, I opened up our front door, and they drove three humvees into the warehouse.

“Welcome, General McCabe. Have a good flight?”

“Just fine, Dr. Calin. Is everyone here?”

“Yes, General McCabe. May I introduce Sandy Woolen?”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, miss,” said the General, resting his eyes, only briefly, on the large breasts under her traditional flannel shirt.

“As well as you, Sir.”

“Well shall we have seat in the conference room?”

“Certainly, Dr. Calin. Please lead the way.”

Everybody sat down in the meeting room. Sandy and I sat on one end of the table. The General, with his four goons, sat on the other end.

“Dr. Calin, Ms. Woolen, these are my companions: Major General Copper, Major Wellert, Captain Jones, Captain Thompson,” said General McCabe, pointing to each one in turn.

I recognized Captain Thompson, from my research proposal grant approval committee. I reminded him, with a smiling nod.