

## The Parallel

## Conspiracy

By

Richard Paul Lori

Kenosha, Wisconsin

Copyright © 2012 e-Verse Media

www.e-versemedia.com

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012951300

ISBN: 978-0-9884741-1-6

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## PROLOGUE

John Fuller sat on the clammy jail floor, straining his mind to solve the puzzle. How in the hell did he end up here? Even in the dark reality of the cell, the whole thing seemed nightmarish. He'd gone out to buy Coke and had ended up here, after getting lost, misplacing his car and breaking into a house.

In his wildest dreams, John could never have imagined being charged with breaking and entering and assaulting an officer. He widened his eyes as he thought of his wife's reaction. What will Rita say about this? His heart raced faster. Oh my God: What will mother think!

His entire life, he'd avoided confrontation. He'd backed away from many schoolyard fights before the fists began flying. It was ludicrous that they could accuse him of assaulting an officer. Yes, he'd knocked the police detective to the ground, but it hadn't been out of malice towards the officer. He'd just panicked, and the detective had been in his way.

Had he broken into a house? Well . . . yes, but it was his own house. At least he'd thought so at the time. Now he wasn't so sure. If it had been his house, where was Rita? Why hadn't she been in the home where they'd lived for the past four years? Even the furniture was different, and another man was living there. In his house!

Then there was his mother. He'd tried calling her from the police station after discovering his own number was out of service. But some strange woman kept answering. It was definitely his mother's number that he dialed. Hell, he knew it better than his own cell phone number! She'd had that same number his entire life. Yet that same old woman kept answering.

The strangest part, though, was meeting his next-door neighbor, Virginia. She didn't know who he was. He could explain away all the other bizarre occurrences that had happened to him in the last few hours, but not this.

He'd seen Virginia nearly every day since moving to the neighborhood. He was positive it was her. She was the only neighbor Rita liked on the whole block, and they'd become friends. Why had Virginia insisted that she didn't know him?

Even his driver's license and credit cards weren't recognized: the police computers said there was no such person. Of course there was a John Fuller. It was him!

His hand drifted up to the swelling on his forehead, and he winced with pain as he brushed the tender lump. Having banged the same spot several times, maybe he should question his own sanity. Maybe he was suffering from amnesia due to the multiple blows. But he hadn't forgotten who he was. He knew he was John Fuller. He had the driver's license to prove it. Unless the police were right and it really was a fake. In his injured state, could he have fabricated an entire life around a fake ID?

John looked down at his ink-stained fingers and shivered, not knowing whether he was chilled by the room or his thoughts. He let his hands drop back into his lap, almost certain that the life he remembered was his own. It was just a matter of trying to figure out at what point things had changed. When was it that his life had gone off the rails and what had caused it? He thought back through the events that led up to his imprisonment. There had to be some small clue he'd missed earlier.

The mystery had started during his earlier drive to buy Rita's Coke. She drank all that was in the house and then blamed him. Everything seemed to be his fault during their five-year marriage, but he'd learned to just live with it. He avoided arguing with her. Mostly, he didn't fight back at all. Today, he'd simply left to get the cola. He was glad to get away from the argument anyway. However, his thoughts were too absorbed in the fight to concentrate on where he was heading. He'd been driving in the rain for some time before he realized he was lost. Lost on a road whose path had led his life into this current, uncharted territory.

## CHAPTER 1

_Six Hours Earlier . . ._

"I must have missed my turn-off," John muttered to himself as he continued to drive through the blur of the pouring rain.

He searched for a road sign or landmark while the wipers slapped back and forth to clear the glass. He could see he was on a rustic stretch of highway with imposing woods on either side. Sporadically, muddy drives led to distant manors buried within the woodland.

"I don't recognize anything around here. I'd better turn around."

John pressed the brake harder and spun the wheel in his hands to make a "U" turn. The road wasn't wide enough, though, and he felt the car lurch sideways. The front tire skidded off the muddy shoulder, plunging into the grass-stippled marsh of the swollen gully.

"Damn it!" cursed John. He yanked the wheel sideways, but it was too late.

He slammed the gearshift into first then applied slight pressure to the accelerator, hoping to ease up the embankment. The car pulsed to life but went nowhere. The tire was too far off the edge. He tried with more and more pressure until his foot was mashed to the floorboard. Mud arced across the ditch and the car entrenched itself deeper in the mire. The vehicle wouldn't budge, so he released the pedal.

"Shit, I'll have to get a tow truck."

John turned off the ignition and pulled his cell phone from his sports jacket. He punched several buttons, but nothing happened. The battery was dead. He never used the damn thing anyway. Rita had insisted that he have it, but it was only so she could keep tabs on him. Cursing himself under his breath for not charging it, he opened the door and exited into the chilling fog of rain to find a phone to use.

*****

Sue Manders leaned forward in the large, overstuffed chair, her deep blue eyes poring over the television screen. A contrived smile bloomed on the weatherperson's face, despite her describing terrible storms in the forecast. The woman's hands moved with the energy of a pixie as they indicated the movement of the storms on the red-blotted map. Her narration of the horrible destruction it had caused in the areas already hit became surreal with the perkiness of her voice. Sue, however, was not perky. The severity of the storms and the direction they were moving created quite the opposite emotion.

She snapped at the cheerful face on the screen, "Lady, you wouldn't act so happy if the damn things were heading your way."

Sue hated thunderstorms, and the line of those advancing looked to be awful. She also didn't like people who act fake. The woman's insincerity and clichéd commentary led to simultaneous irritation and fear in Sue as she continued to listen to the forecast.

Eventually, Sue jammed the button on the remote control and grinned when the woman faded to blackness. Looking out the windows for any signs of the impending squall, she saw the deep violet light of the setting sun and a drizzling rain that was beginning to thicken. When she stopped scanning outside, she looked at the small table next to her and the novel she'd been reading. She took it into her hands, the corner of her mouth turning up. Reading always made her forget any worries. She opened the book to its mark and snuggled into the soft chair.

After several pages, a chime rang out and Sue turned her head towards the door, the deep blackness of her loose-curled hair swirling over her face. Looking out the bank of front windows, she saw her Uncle Bob's car parked in the driveway. He'd been visiting more often in the last month since her father had died.

She laid the bookmark in as she closed the book and carefully returned it to its place on the table. While she walked to the door, a slight smile blossomed on her face. It grew to a huge grin when she opened it and saw her uncle standing there.

Robert Humboldt returned her smile, the sagging plumpness of his face presenting a much more jovial appearance than he ever could with the well-chiseled face of his youth.

"Hello, my dear," he said. He leaned towards her for a hug, the fine cloth of his suit shimmering as the dampened material reflected the evening light.

"Hi, Uncle Bob," Sue said, hugging his soggy torso and placing a light peck on his moist cheek. "Come in out of the rain."

Linking arms, she led him into the living room, his every movement showing an air of importance despite his slowing stride and widening frame. Uncle Bob seated himself in the chair Sue had just vacated, so she continued to the couch. Once he settled his black-peppered, gray head into the chair, he suddenly leaned forward, pulling something from his pocket.

"Before I forget, I brought you some of the latest lab data," he said as he handed her a computer memory card.

He'd been bringing these to her occasionally, along with other items, such as books and scientific papers. These were only excuses to visit and check on her though. He was using whatever devices he could to make sure she was all right. Because of this, in the month since her father had died, they'd become very close again, almost as close as they'd been when she was a little girl.

"Thank you," she said, accepting the memory card. "Any new developments on the project since the last update?"

"Not too much. Dr. Philips has run some further tests using various energy to mass ratios, but he's too damned afraid to make any significant modifications without you there," he said, with a scowl.

His expression changed, and the corner of his mouth turned up. "It's probably best anyway. He'd only muck things up without you or Manny around."

"Manny" was what Bob had called Sue's father, Dr. Henry Manders. The two men had been the closest of friends in their younger days, as devoted as any two brothers. Likewise, although there was no blood relation between them, Sue considered Bob her uncle in every way. She was closer to him than her only blood uncle, a man she barely knew.

Sue gave a halfhearted laugh over his remark but could feel the guilt rise for neglecting her responsibilities. She and her father had headed up a major project at Gladstone Industries, but she'd been away from the lab for the past month.

Sue had followed in her father's footsteps and had become a physicist. While still in school, she'd developed a theory about parallel universes and the ability to transfer energy between them. The notion that there were parallel universes had been around for many years. Although physicists still contested the exact nature of these universes, they generally accepted that they existed. Sue had developed equations to demonstrate that when matter transfers from this universe to another, an equal amount of energy transfers back from the other universe. The key was to refine this transfer to use minimal power and to hold a gateway open so that energy could continue to flow back. Once they'd perfected a device to do this, it would be possible to obtain unlimited power.

Sue's father had worked out a practical way of performing the matter transfer while working at Gladstone. However, because of the enormous expense of developing hardware, his superiors at the company had decided not to pursue the project. That was when Sue and her father had approached Bob. He was Assistant Director of the Department of Atomic Projects, or DAP as it was known, and they wanted him to help get government funding for the project. Bob put his neck out to get the initial funding, then several more times to keep the money coming until they perfected the device. Her absence was not furthering the development. In fact, it was making it more difficult for Bob, who had to justify a project that wasn't producing results yet.

He must have sensed her thoughts because he said, "Don't worry, Sue. Everything's still on schedule. These tests would've needed to be done at some point anyway, and it isn't important for you to be there while they take place. Once we get all the data collected, we can make the changes you and Manny wanted to try."

"You say that, but I can't help feeling guilty about not being there. I know how much you put on the line for the project. You've done so much for Dad and me, and I'm just being selfish."

Sue couldn't look him in the eye and focused instead on twisting the corner of the pillow lying between her and the end of the couch.

Bob let out a soft snort. "You feel guilty? My dear, you have no reason to feel guilty. I know how much your father meant to you. He was your whole world. You take all the time you want. Besides, if anyone should feel guilty, it's me."

Sue looked up from the pillow and saw he was almost in tears. She'd never seen him look this way before. He was the strongest-willed and most powerful man she'd ever known. Even at her father's funeral, he hadn't cried. Despite his great sorrow, he was the rock that she'd leaned on. Now he looked so tired, broken and sick, he appeared to have aged a decade in the last month. He seemed more vulnerable than she ever thought possible.

"What do you mean? Why should you feel guilty?" she asked.

"His death was all my fault," he said, his head dropping down.

"It wasn't," Sue insisted. "How can you say that?"

"I should've never gotten involved in this whole mess in the first place. I shouldn't have gotten the funding for the project. If I hadn't, Manny would still be alive today. Once I did get the funding, I shouldn't have . . ." His words trailed off, and he let out a deep breath, his very soul seeming to deflate. He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Sue."

"What are you talking about?" she said in a soft voice. "Dad and I both asked you to help. That's why you did it. And because this project is so important." Her voice strengthened as she said, "You know as well as I do that when we get this working, we'll have a source of free and limitless energy. It'll change the world forever."

"I know, I know," he said. "We've been held hostage by the oil-producing countries for too long. If we can get this going, we'll be able to tell them and the rest of the world to go to hell. That would almost make this whole damnable mess worthwhile. But Manny dying for it . . ."

"I know Dad never expected to lose his life over this, but it was an accident. A stupid, senseless accident. I've tried to make some sense of why he died, some reason, but there is none, and that's the worst part of it. To be electrocuted on a control panel he'd wired himself makes no sense at all."

"I know, Sue, it shouldn't have happened," Bob said, nodding in agreement. "He shouldn't have been there so late at night by himself either. I should've never allowed something like that to happen. I should've demanded tighter security on that room and not let anyone in there after hours by themselves. That's why I feel so damned responsible."

"Well, you shouldn't. Dad always preached to me about not working alone in the lab, and I can't understand why he would. I don't know what he was thinking." Sue frowned. "It wasn't like him. Maybe it had become so important to him that he was willing to take risks like working on that panel by himself. I don't know, I've talked myself in circles the last month, and I still can't figure out why he would've done something like that."

"Sue, you have to believe that I never would've allowed him to take any chance, no matter how important this project is to our country and to mankind." He leaned forward and took her hands into his. His baritone voice strengthening, he said, "I'd gladly sacrifice hundreds or thousands to complete what we've started, but never Manny or you. You're the only family I have."

As he said this, Sue felt him return to his commanding self. His words unsettled her though. She wasn't sure what he meant, and was about to ask when he said, "The world be damned! There's nothing more important than you, and what you need now is time, time to get over the grief and time to relax."

The worry and fatigue lifted from his face. "Nobody knows better how hard you and Manny were working; the late hours, the weekends. Anyone in your shoes would've broken long before. You're only human, my dear, and you just need to relax and recuperate now."

She tightened her grip on his hands. "Thank you for being so understanding, but I do need to get back to work soon."

He let go of her hands and said in a stern tone, "Nonsense. I won't hear of it. I don't want to see you back in that lab for at least another month. I know Philips isn't the brightest, but he _is_ capable of conducting the remaining tests we need. It'll take almost that long to complete them and compile the data anyway."

"All right, all right, I give up," she said, waving an imaginary white flag in the air. She relented, as she always did, when Bob got a full head of steam up. Besides, he was right. Philips was more than capable of conducting the tests. "At least let me help compile the data though. Philips never does it the way I like it, and it never makes sense to anyone but him."

"Okay. I'll give you remote access so you can log in from here. But I'll only do it if you promise me something."

Sue sighed and rolled her eyes in mock disgust. "And what would that be?"

Bob again took her hands in his. "You have to promise it'll only be a few hours a day. I don't want you overworking yourself again. Promise?"

"Okay, I can agree to that. I promise."

Bob released her hands while his eyes darted down to his watch. "Damn, I need to leave. I wish I could stay a little longer, but I have an important dinner meeting to get to."

Sue, pretending to scold him, said, "And what was this about overworking?"

"I know, dear. I'm just as guilty as you ever were. I guess that's why we get along so well."

"Are you sure you can't stay a little longer?"

"I'm sorry, dear, I wish I could."

As they rose, she again linked arms with him and escorted him to the door. After opening it, she grabbed onto him in a tight hug.

"I love you," she said, tears welling up in her eyes. Her mind flashed back to when she was a little girl and how Uncle Bob had always spoiled her. Sue used to think of him as a second father then and now did again. He was the only father she had left. She held him, not wanting to let go.

He hugged back with one arm and stroked the dark curls of her hair with the other. He said in almost a whisper, "I love you too. More than you'll ever know."

When Sue released him, he whirled around and said goodbye without looking back, disappearing into the blackness of the pouring rain.

As Sue wiped her eyes, she said, "Goodbye, Uncle Bob."

She looked over at one of the wicker porch chairs. She thought about sitting outside for a bit to watch the rain as she and her father had often done. Instead, she turned, knowing it would only make his absence worse. When she closed the door, a low rumble echoed off in the distance, signaling that the advancing storm would soon gain strength.

*****

John trudged up the road with his head down, keeping the wind-whipped rain from his eyes. His sports jacket snapped around like a flag clinging desperately to its pole in a gale. After walking for a time, he saw a car pulling out of a driveway a hundred feet or so ahead. He waved his arms to signal the driver, but the vehicle turned in the opposite direction. John was most likely invisible to them in the darkness of the rainy night.

He continued walking until he came to the driveway the car had come from, the gravel path having turned into a sea of puddling mud. At the end of the several-hundred-foot drive, he could just make out the glowing windows of a large, old farmhouse. Even though the car had driven off, the lights made it obvious that someone was still home. Hopefully, the owner would let him use the phone. He headed towards the house, weaving back and forth like a drunken man to avoid the scattered pools of muddy water.

As the rain intensified and the visibility worsened, the lights of the house were no longer visible. Even so, he continued on, knowing it would lead him to his objective. A blinding flash filled his eyes, and a crack of thunder boomed out as a bolt of lightning struck somewhere nearby. As darkness descended once more, there was a glimpse of someone ahead before the last glimmer of light faded. His heart lifting with help near, he began jogging in the direction of the person, calling out, "Hey! Hey!"

When another burst of light lit the path, there was clearly a man ahead. John picked up the pace of his run, his feet getting soaked as he splashed uncaring through the thick puddles. When he drew close, he called out again, "Excuse me! Can you help me?"

The man heard this time and turned as John came to a stop alongside him. In the darkness, he couldn't get a clear look at the man, but he must have been in the downpour for some time too. His navy blue jacket, which was soaked with rain, clung to his muscular body, and his light-colored hair was matted to his head.  With another flash of lightning, John caught a mere glimpse of the man's maniacal face before he yelled out above the din of the storm, "Help you? I'll help kill you!"

The man lunged at John, fists striking several hard punches before knocking him backward. The first blows went unfelt as the complete shock of what was happening sank in. With no time to reason, instinct took hold, and John threw his arms out to catch himself while he tumbled to the ground. He slipped as he scrambled to get away, and the man pounced on him, forcing him to change from flight to fight.

The man clutched John's throat as he landed, the iron grip cutting off his air. John grasped the other man's wrists and pried at them to free himself, but he was unable to do so with the attacker's greater strength. The man was choking him to death!

His head swimming from the suffocation and his mind racing with his looming death, the unbreakable pressure on his esophagus suddenly ceased. John gasped for air with the peak of his adrenaline surge, and he spun to his knees, eyes wide, his heart racing. When he saw what had caused the change of events, his pulse eased: another man had come to his rescue, forcing the attacker to retreat.

John remained kneeling while the rush of fear-induced strength declined and weakness set in, his own hands now grasping his nearly crushed throat.

His rescuer called to him, "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," John replied hoarsely, a crack of thunder nearly drowning out the sound of his voice.

As he began to breathe with more ease, he looked up. The assailant was renewing his attack! This time, though, he lunged at the man who'd come to his defense. Caught off guard by the sudden advance, the charging man tackled the other and drove him into John. When his head snapped back from the plummeting man, John became dizzy and felt himself falling but not hitting the ground.

When an enormous wave of nausea bowled over him, he was ready to vomit. John couldn't feel the ground below or the fallen men on top. They must have broken his neck! An injury like that being fatal, he gave in to death as his consciousness faded.

*****

John stirred. Mud shifted below his body and squished through his fingers. He snapped into a sitting position as he became fully aware. He looked through the rain across the darkened landscape surrounding him. He was still sitting in the drive of the farmhouse and was neither dead nor paralyzed.

After several more flashes in the sky, he saw he was alone, the other two men probably leaving him for dead. His heart skittered as the memory of the beating and rescue came back to him. Why had the first man attacked him? John had done nothing to provoke him, so apparently, he'd been mistaken for someone else. Could the second man be the key? Had the attacker mistaken John for him and that was why he'd attacked? At this point, the details weren't important to him. Whenever John hadn't been able to run from the bullies in school, he'd just lay there until the beating was over and then walk away. He felt the same way now. He could just move on and forget it.

The rain subsided, and he again saw the lights of the house. He lurched to his feet and stumbled in its direction. When he neared the front porch steps, a massive boom peeled out while a simultaneous flash lit the sky. Still rattled from the fight, he shot forward in a panicked sprint. The dizziness he still felt made him stumble on the first porch step and plummet forward. His forehead thumped hard against the edge of an upper step, causing stars to flash before his eyes for several seconds. The pain inside his skull intensified, but, even so, he remained conscious while blood mixed with water started to flow into his left eye.

When his head cleared a bit, John crawled up the steps and pulled himself onto the porch, exhausted and out of breath. He closed his eyes for a moment, his mind in a heavy fog. When he opened them, he looked around, trying to figure out where he was. His gaze landed on several wicker chairs over to the side of the porch. He thought about sitting in one but instead stumbled his way to the door, knowing he needed refuge more than rest. He used a burst of strength to lift his arm and ring the bell, but with the storm renewing its vigor, he couldn't hear if the chime had sounded. He opened the screen door and gave the entry door a pound with his fist. With this last effort draining him, he passed out in a heap against the door from the sharp pain boring into his skull.

*****

Sue was huddled in her chair, fidgeting as she watched the weather report on the television. She was now oblivious to the commentator's insincere behavior, focusing instead on the red-blotted map of the radar display.

The storm was the strongest in recent history: heavy rains and high winds with several funnel clouds having already touched down in the city. The lights had gone out several times only to come back on again after a few seconds. She had flashlight and candles ready if they went out permanently and was equally ready to bolt for the basement should the tornado sirens start blaring. If the irritating commentator were right, it would be a long night.

Sue had never liked thunderstorms. As a child, she'd crawl into bed with her father, hiding under the covers and pressing tightly to his side. She'd try her best to sneak in and not wake him, but she always did. He'd try to soothe her into going back to her own room but, when she thought back, she couldn't remember a single time he'd succeeded. He always allowed her to stay huddled next to him for security. She wondered what he'd say about the fear that gripped her now.

A bright flash and resounding explosion of a nearby lightning strike made her jump to her feet. Her efforts to remain calm were startled again by the chime of the doorbell, followed by a loud thud. She wasn't expecting anyone, so she froze in place.

She called out in a cracking voice, "Who's there?" When there was no answer, she called louder. "Is anyone there?"

Again, there was no answer. Already on edge from the storm, tears filled her eyes. She was alone and scared but determined not to give in to it. She rushed to her father's study and to an antique, double-barreled shotgun in his cabinet. The hundred-year-old firearm had been her great-grandfather's, which he passed down to her father. To her knowledge, it had been fired fewer than a dozen times in the last twenty years, twice by her.

Sue clutched the cool steel and removed it from the cabinet, feeling her father's presence with its touch. Although he'd shown her its workings, she fumbled with it a moment before breaking open the breech and sliding the grooved, red shells into place. She locked it back with a solid click.

Walking back to the door with the added defense, she dried her eyes on the way. She called out, "I've got a gun in here. Go away."

Sue raised the shotgun and unlocked the door as quietly as she could. Turning the knob, the door flew towards her, assisted by the wind and the weight of a motionless man. As she jumped backward, she tried to keep the gun trained on the man but soon realized he wasn't conscious. Sue lowered the gun and stepped closer. What was wrong with him? Even through all the mud, a bloody gash on his forehead was evident.

As the wind whipped spatters of mist into Sue's eyes, she looked over and the door was still open. She stood the gun in the corner and dragged the man's limp body farther into the hall. After she'd heaved him in far enough, she muscled the door closed against the force of the heavy gale. Although leery of the man, he was still unmoving and needed her help. She ran to the kitchen and came back with some towels and a bowl of water, then washed the smeared dirt and blood from his face to get a better look. The more mud she swabbed away, the more questions arose in her mind about what had caused the man's battered state.

After cleaning much of the dirt away, his face was more visible. He was kind of cute, actually. Certainly not the look a hardened criminal who'd been in and out of jail would have. He had far too innocent an appearance to be someone like that. His cheeks were chubby and child-like.

The man started to stir and opened his eyes. He snapped them shut right away but re-opened them and squinted at the harsh light burning in the living room beyond.

"What happened to you?" Sue asked while she continued to dab at the wounds. "Did you get in a fight with someone?"

"I . . . I don't know," croaked the man, as he looked at her through barely opened eyes.

"This cut looks pretty nasty. It's bleeding quite a bit, but I think I can stop it."

"Who are you?" the man asked, trying to sit up.

"Just lay back and take it easy for a while," she said, handing him a towel. "Here, put this under your head."

He did as she asked, but his agitation was apparent. "Who are you and where am I?"

"My name is Sue Manders, and you're in my house," she said, giving his wound a last dab as she finished cleaning it. "Here, hold this on your forehead to stop the bleeding." She handed him another towel and sat back on her folded legs.

The man took the towel and pressed it against his head. He winced in pain at first but held it there anyway.

"How did I get here?"

"I really don't know. When I answered the door, you just fell in."

"I was at your door?"

"Yeah."

"What was I doing there?"

"I have no idea. You rang my doorbell, then pounded on the door."

"All I remember is walking in the rain," he said, starting to get up, his eyes straining shut when he fell back.

"I told you to lay there for a minute," Sue scolded.

"Okay, Okay. I remember walking on a muddy road, but that's it."

"Why were you walking on a night like this?" Sue asked. She still wasn't sure she should trust the man. For all she knew, he fell on her porch while trying to break into the house. She examined him again and decided this probably wasn't the case. Burglars usually don't wear sports jackets.

"I don't know why I was walking," he replied. "Everything's kind of hazy."

"Can you, at least, remember your name?"

"John Fuller," he said, starting to shiver, water dripping from his clothes with each shake.

"You want a hot drink to help you warm up, John? Do you like tea?"

"Sure, that'd be fine."

Sue went to the kitchen and filled her teapot with water. After putting it on the stove and lighting the flame beneath it, she went back to the hall. John had his eyes closed and appeared asleep. The old shotgun was still lying where she left it so she picked it up. Snapping the breach open, she unloaded it while she walked back to her father's office. There was no need for a gun. The man didn't look like a burglar, nor did he seem the type to be a murderer or rapist.

 When Sue walked back into the foyer, the lightning, which had quieted down for a time, started back in force. A loud crack woke John with a start. His eyes snapped open, and his body shot into a sitting position.

"The storm!" he exclaimed.

"I don't like them either," she said, crouching next to him.

The thunder seeming to prompt his memory, he said, "I was driving, and my car slid into a ditch."

"Oh, okay. That's probably how you got that bump on your head."

"No, I don't think so," he said, leaning his back against the wall.

"Maybe you were running to get out of the rain and fell then. You _are_ all muddy."

"I . . . I suppose, but I'm not really sure," he said with a frown.

The bump on his head might be more serious than she first thought if he had no memory of how he got here. As she continued to ponder the mystery, the kettle whistled, and she returned to the kitchen.

Sue pulled a packet of vanilla chai from a box tucked back on the counter and removed the bag from its wrapper. She poured the steaming water into a cup, doused the teabag and sprinkled in sugar. When she spun around to go back though, John was already standing in the kitchen doorway.

"What are you doing?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at his wavering stance.

"My back was starting to hurt sitting on the floor. I took my shoes off though so I wouldn't track mud everywhere. See?" He pulled a foot from the floor and held it towards her like a child might show an adult when they'd done something to be proud of. He stood there, wobbling, for a moment, almost falling before dropping his foot back to the floor.

"Should you be standing up?"

"Yeah, I'm all right." He pointed to his forehead. "The bleeding stopped too."

"Well, you still don't look too steady. Sit down over here," she said, pointing to a stool by the counter. She put the tea down in front of him.

*****

John grasped the hot cup in both hands, trying to warm his whole body with the heat it radiated. He felt chilled to the bones and could sense the liquid's warmth flowing into his stomach when he drank it.

"Hey, this is delicious. I thought you were giving me tea," he said.

"It is tea, but with spices added. It's called chai. That one has vanilla flavor in it too. You're supposed to make it with milk, but the water was quicker to heat up."

"That's okay. I like it a lot."

As he took another sip of the spicy drink, his grandmother came to mind. His mother and Nana hadn't gotten along as far back as he could remember. From the stories his mother told, she hadn't gotten along with Nana even as a child, and it only worsened once she grew up. Because of this, John didn't see Nana much when she was still alive. When he did, though, she would always make what she said was her "special drink for her special boy," hot chocolate with vanilla, nutmeg and a hint of cinnamon. While he enjoyed the drink, most of the special feeling came from being with Nana. He'd only been allowed to visit her a few times before she died, but those rare visits were the happiest of his childhood memories.

Not having taken in the sights of the house before, John looked around the kitchen. It was a hundred-year-old farmhouse, but a few modern features narrated periods of updating. Honey-colored maple cabinets reaching the high ceiling covered the walls. The marble counter had a white, antique sink mounted in the middle of its run. He wasn't sure if it was original to the kitchen, but it looked new. There wasn't a stain or dust speck to be seen anywhere on its surface. A similar standard of cleanliness was evident on the countertop and the blonde maple floor. From what he could see of the dining room, the rest of the house was as clean and well-furnished as the kitchen.

As he looked around, John wished his own house were like this. When he and Rita started to look at homes to buy, he'd tried to convince her to purchase an older style Victorian, a similar era to this house. With their multicolored trim, intricate moldings, thrusting turrets and majestic rooflines, he'd always loved their character and sense of history. Whenever he entered an old home, he'd imagine what it was like when it was new and how the owners would have it decorated. He'd also think about the generations that had lived there and what their lives would be like back in those simpler, happier times.

Rita hated older homes and said they were broken down dumps that should be torn down to build new. He'd tried to explain his feelings to her, but she laughed and said he was idiotic for thinking such thoughts. He eventually gave in to her, as always, and never mentioned it again. That was when they bought the cookie-cutter ranch-style house they lived in now. He hated it then and had never been comfortable in it since.

Now that John was becoming more aware of his surroundings, he couldn't help but notice Sue as she reached into the box for another teabag. She wasn't tall enough to reach the mugs in the cupboard without standing on tiptoe. As she grabbed a cup, he noted the black hair that curled down her back, almost reaching her slender waist. The jeans she wore clung tightly to her ample hips and thighs.

 "You have a nice house," he said.

"Thank you," she said while she poured hot water into another cup for herself.

When she turned to him with a cup of tea in hand, his eyes traveled up to her pretty, round face and met the most exquisitely beautiful, deep blue eyes he'd ever seen. They mesmerized him. Sue's face flushed with the scrutiny he was giving her. She asked, "Would you like another cup of tea?"

"No, thanks," he said, blushing as well, his eyes shooting back down into his cup while he took another nervous sip.

Sue sat on the opposite side of the counter, her eyes absorbed in her own teacup. John felt embarrassed for having her catch him staring at her but realized that he couldn't help himself.

Sue was the kind of woman he'd always been attracted to but was too afraid to ask on a date. Pretty women, in particular, had always intimidated him, so he rarely interacted with them, let alone asked them out. Sue's kindness to him so far and the extreme circumstances of their meeting had numbed his nerves. If only he were still single and worthy of someone like her, but he was neither.

*****

For reasons she couldn't explain, Sue felt attracted to John. What was even more surprising, though, was the ease with which she sat here. This strange man had fallen in her front door less than a half-hour before and yet she wasn't fearful of him. She'd always been uncomfortable around men she didn't know, but he seemed less threatening somehow.

Sue glanced at him for a moment then snapped her eyes back to her cup. He was still mud-spattered, which made him seem less intimidating, vulnerable in fact. Along with the mud, the boyishness of his light brown hair and plump face made her fight an urge to drag him upstairs and immerse him in a bath of sudsy water. She smiled at the image, and when she looked at him again, she started to giggle. The puzzled expression he gave her only made her laugh harder.

John smiled back. "What's so funny?"

She calmed herself and stopped laughing. "I'm sorry, I wasn't laughing at you. It's just all that mud in your hair. You look like a little boy that's been out making mud pies or something. It's kind of cute."

Sue stood up. "Come on upstairs, and you can wash it out. I'm sure it doesn't feel too great." She started towards the kitchen door.

"Thanks," John said, standing and following. "I'd love to clean up."

## CHAPTER 2

As John continued to sit on the hard jail cell floor pondering the last few hours of his life, the corner of his mouth turned up as he thought of Sue. With all she'd done for him, she was probably the kindest woman he'd ever known. If only he'd met her in college instead of Rita. His life would've been far different. But even if they'd met years before, it wouldn't have mattered. He wasn't good enough for someone like her, now or back then.

One of his fellow inmates coughed, rousing him from his contemplation. John looked around the cell. They'd thrown him into a thirty-by-thirty-foot room with drunks and other felons. Everyone had a different story to tell if asked how they'd ended up here.

When another cough sputtered out, John moved his eyes to a squat little man across the room. The man tried to stare him down, but John returned his gaze to the floor, his mind drifting back to his current problem.

After he'd called a tow truck and left Sue's house with the driver, they'd been unable to find his car. It was dark, and the torrential rains had started again. They could barely see out the windows, let alone find his car in the ditch. And John wasn't even certain that the car was as close to Sue's driveway as he remembered. He began to feel foolish as the driver badgered him with questions. To end the confrontation, he decided to come back in the morning and look then. He was tired from the earlier battering he took and just wanted to get home. He'd paid the tow truck driver forty dollars in cash to drive him there.

John's reminiscences were halted again when the coughing man sat down next to him. The smell of sweat and whiskey assaulted John, and he was forced to take shallow breaths to avoid passing out from the aroma. He had the urge to vomit when he saw that the other man had already done so on the front of his shabby jacket.

John fought down the impulse to walk away. Although he'd done pretty well with the police officer earlier, he didn't want to fight with this drunk, or anyone else in this threatening place.

"Hi. My name ish Chester Walker. What's yoursh?" the shabby man slurred out. He extended his hand to John.

"John Fuller," he replied. Out of habit, he took the offered hand and shook it. It felt grimy, and John absently wiped his own hand on his pants after releasing it.

"Pleased ta meet ya, John. Tell me, do ya have a cigarette that ya could borrow me?" Chester moved closer, licking his lips in anticipation.

"No, I'm sorry. I don't smoke," John said, inching away while swallowing the bile that was working its way up his throat.

"That's aright, I need ta quit anyway," he slurred, his lips pouting. Chester, still seeming to like John's company, asked, "So tell me, whatcha in for?"

 "Breaking and entering, and assaulting an officer."

"Geez, a nice-looking boy like you? Why'd ya wanna do something like that for?"

"It was all a mistake. The electricity was out, and I must have walked into the wrong house. The guy that lived there thought I was a burglar and started beating me with a flashlight. When the police got there, I guess I panicked and knocked a detective to the ground."

"You knocked a cop on his ass?" Chester trumpeted, a huge grin coming to his face. Through corroded, amber teeth he proclaimed, "Hey, buddy, you's okay in my book."

Chester, who seemed the excitable type, had said this too loud. Other prisoners overheard him and came over to find out more.

Another of John's cellmates walked up to the two. With slicked black hair, he wore a sleeveless white tee shirt that had seen better days and his arms looked like tattooed billboards. He asked, "Hey man, you say you knock a cop on his ass? You know I did the same thing about two years ago, and they beat the crap outta me. They work you over too?"

"No, but I think I pissed them off a little bit," John said to the laughing faces around him.

The crowd that had formed was surprising. While John normally didn't like being in the spotlight, in this case, he appreciated the attention for doing something so masculine. He'd have further reveled in his boasting if it hadn't been for one large specimen of a man, who pushed his way through the group and listened while John recounted his story.

When John reached the part about punching the policeman, the man started to laugh, snorting like a rooting pig. "What the hell you talkin' 'bout, boy? Some wimpy little fuck like you ain't gonna punch no cop to the ground." He took a step towards John and angled down to get in his face. "You're just a big bullshitter."

John, who'd been emboldened in his manhood only seconds before, shrank inward. The man was twice his size, and the sight of his bulging muscles made John cower. He sat in silence, not saying anything. If he did, the big man would toss him around like a rag doll. Chester, however, shot to his feet and zipped to the other side of the cell, as far away from John as he could get. Others did likewise, while several more stood there waiting to see what kind of action would break up the monotony.

"Well, boy? How come you got nothin' to say to me? If you bad enough to fuck with a cop, you must be bad enough to say somethin' to me."

"Well, I ah . . . ah . . ." John stuttered. He couldn't focus his thoughts on a response. He just needed to get away from the Neanderthal towering over him.

"Well is that all you can say? 'Ah . . . ah . . . ah . . .'" The large man laughed in his face, a rancid blend of tobacco and salami assaulting John's nose.

"I ah . . . ah . . ." Again, his mind was swirling too much to think. Before he could say anything more intelligible, the Neanderthal grabbed him by the shirt and picked him off the floor. John, who thought he'd been cold before, started to shudder.

"Why don't you leave me alone?" he stammered out.

"Why don't you stop bullshitting everyone?" the bully grunted.

"Hey! What the hell's going on back there?" a voice from the front of the cell belted out.

The giant man threw John into the corner and lumbered away as though nothing had happened. When the small cluster of inmates cleared away, two policemen, who were opening the cell door, became visible. The smaller of the two bellowed, "Fuller, get over here!"

When he stood and walked over, the police officer barked, "What's going on, Fuller?"

John was about to blurt out the details but, instead, looked over his shoulder at the Neanderthal. He shivered again. He cleared his throat and choked out, "Nothing."

"Well, it's staying that way. You're coming with me."

John turned his head and flashed a crooked smile at the glowering giant before following the officers from the cell. They led him down a maze of hallways into a room with a grubby, oak table and chairs.

"Sit down," the larger of the two grunted. He shoved John into one of the hard wooden chairs, his face almost lurching into the graffiti-scarred tabletop.

Before John could ask what was happening, the small one said, "Just shut up and wait here."

They left the room by a second door, and John noted the dull click as they locked it behind them.

*****

John laid his head on the stained tabletop, drifting into a twilight sleep. He wasn't sure how long he'd been like this when he was awakened by the bang of the door. He snapped his head up to see Detective Mike Riley, the officer who'd arrested him, entering the room by the same door the other two had exited. He was glaring at John with his arms folded.

"Gee, I hope I didn't wake you from your beauty sleep, Fuller," quipped Riley.

"I'm sorry. I'm very tired."

Riley stared at him, his face blank. "Yeah, I guess assaulting an officer can be very exhausting."

John looked at the tabletop and said nothing, knowing it would be best to remain silent. Riley would still be furious with him. He had, after all, punched him and knocked him to the ground earlier. He was sure the other police officers wouldn't let Riley live it down too easy. John had humiliated the detective in front of them.

The detective sat opposite John, opening a file folder he'd been carrying. He spread the contents on the table before him and started shaking his head.

"Well, Fuller, you're one lucky son of a bitch. The man whose home you broke into is being very reasonable about the whole situation. We explained to him that you claimed to have entered his house by mistake. Besides, I think he rather enjoyed beating the crap out of you."

John brought his hand to his forehead and to the tender lump that had formed. He remembered how the man had pounded him with a flashlight in the same spot he'd banged on Sue's porch.

When John entered the house, he'd believed it was his. The truck's lights illuminated the sign identifying Maple Street, the street he lived on, then 9721, the numbers on his house. He had no reason to doubt where he was. But then, his key hadn't worked in the front door, so he'd gone around to the back. That door was unlocked, and he went in. It was only after a man started beating him with a flashlight in the dark kitchen that he knew something was wrong. Then he'd lost consciousness.

When he woke, the power was back on and the police were there. A paramedic had been called and had stopped the bleeding from his forehead. He told John there was no sign of concussion but to expect a headache, on and off, for a few days. The blows could also account for some of his confusion.

Once the medic had finished his work and John looked around, he realized that it wasn't his house. The layout was the same, but the furniture and pictures on the walls were all different. The problem, though, was that, according to the detective and everyone there, this was 9721 Maple Street, and that was his own address. How could he be at the right address but the wrong house?

Riley shuffled some papers, bringing John back to the present. "Since nothing was missing, Mr. Richter said he won't press charges as long as you pay for the broken flashlight."

 "Does that mean I can go?"

"No, it does not!" Riley blared. "I don't like you, Fuller. There's something more going on here than you walking into the wrong house. Your driver's license, credit cards, social security card, even your Goddamn library card say you're John Fuller. But when I ran your license through the computer, you didn't come up. It said we entered an invalid number. Same thing when we ran the credit cards and your social security number, except they all came back with different names. I and everybody else that's seen these cards would swear that they're real. So, either they're all fake and you're a master forger, or there's been some kind of mass computer glitch and you've accidentally been erased from society."

Riley stared at him as though he expected some kind of response. John was at a loss and didn't know what to say. He'd been mulling over that very problem the whole time he sat in the holding cell and hadn't come up with an explanation.

Riley's eyes narrowed. "You don't have to explain anything to me. But I'll tell you one thing, you assaulted a police officer, and I'm not going to let that one go."

"I'm sorry, detective. I wasn't trying to get away. I was only trying to talk to my neighbor, Virginia."

"That's a line of crap if I ever heard one," said Riley, with a scowl. "Listen, I was a nice guy and let you go talk to her. But she said she didn't know you, right?"

John could feel perspiration forming on his forehead. "Well yes, but it had to be a mistake. I know her. I'm sure if I would've been able to talk to her for a minute she would've remembered me. When you pulled me away, I just wanted to go back to her for a little longer. That was the only reason I wanted to get free from you, to talk to Virginia."

Riley snorted. "You only wanted talk to the woman, did you? So you think it's alright then to punch a police officer and knock him to the ground to do it?" Riley pounded his fist on the table, his eyes burning into John. "Bullshit! I'm not going to let you get away with that one. Not only that, Fuller, if I can't find out who you really are, I'll have to turn you over to the FBI as a possible terrorist."

"A terrorist?" John called out, almost springing from the seat when his muscles tensed. "I'm not a terrorist. I already told you who I am. I can't explain why my license and credit cards come up invalid any more than I can explain why someone else is living in my house. I don't know what's going on."

Riley leaned forward in the chair. "Come on, Fuller. Who are you? You working for the Mexican Nationalists or something?"

"Who are they? I don't know anything about them," John said, the sweat starting to roll from his brow.

Riley shook his head. "Sure, sure. It'll be easier for you if you confess to me now. You know what happens to terror suspects, Fuller? Once the FBI gets a hold of you, they'll ship you to La Mesa and let the intelligence boys down there interrogate you."

John's voice quivered, "What's La Mesa?"

"La Mesa Prison. You know, where they send all the terrorists. Now, I don't approve of what those heavy-handed apes down there do to a man, but you _will_ talk after they're through. I guarantee it." He looked down and appeared to talk to himself more than to John. "I lost sleep for days the last time I had to turn someone over to those animals."

"I told you I'm not a terrorist! I don't know what's going on. I'm just as confused about all this as you are."

Riley shot up from the chair, knocking it to the floor with a crack. "What kind of asshole do you take me for? The only thing you're confused about is how you're going to talk your sweet ass out of the jam you're in!"

He looked like he was going to continue verbally lashing John except another policeman stuck his head in the door. "Riley, the FBI's on the phone for you."

Riley stood there like he wasn't aware of the other man, continuing to glare at John. He then gathered the papers on the table, stuffed them into the folder and left the room, slamming the door behind him. John could see that the man was genuinely angry with him. It wasn't some act to make him talk. Riley was obviously still mad about being knocked down.

Tensed from Riley's onslaught, John sank into the chair, trying to relax. It was impossible, though, the uncertainty of recent events bubbling in his mind. Why had he, as Riley put it, been erased from society? Again the thought of amnesia entered his mind. Could he be some kind of terrorist like Riley had suggested? Could he be using the manufactured identity of John Fuller?

He remembered a movie he'd once seen where a spy during one of the wars had created a false identity. He'd remembered even small details about the life he fabricated so that if he were ever questioned, he'd be able to keep up the guise without tripping himself up. John wondered if he'd done the same thing. Could John Fuller be a fantasy he'd created to cover his true identity?

No, it just wasn't possible. If he'd dreamed up his entire life, he'd have memorized a hundred or so details, not the thousands he remembered. He wasn't the crazy one. It was everybody else that was crazy.

John shivered. While society had always ridiculed him, it had never treated him like he didn't exist. Even laughter at his expense would be welcome right now if only he could have contact with someone he knew.

He had to find somebody who remembered him. Rita? No matter what, she'd know who he was. The problem was that he didn't know where to find her. He couldn't go home to her because, although his house was there, somebody else was living in it. Some strange woman had answered when he'd tried to call his mother, so that was no good either.

"Wait a minute," he exclaimed. "I've got to talk to Sue. She's the last person I saw before this all started. She'll remember me. She'll be able to help."

Not thinking, he rose from the chair, walked to the door and tried the handle. When he realized it was actually opening, he shut it again. Riley had been so angry he'd forgotten to lock the door.

_I can't just walk out of here_ , John thought. He considered it for a second more then smiled. "Or can I?"

He opened the door a crack and peered through it. Outside was a vast squad room filled with police officers. Some were sitting at desks filling out reports, and others were booking an assortment of drunks, prostitutes, and other felons. Still others were absorbed in arguing among themselves. However, none were paying the slightest attention to him or even looking in his direction. He took a deep breath, opened the door all the way and walked into the room. Despite the queasiness in his stomach, he tried to act casual while he zigzagged his way through the maze of desks looking for a way out.

Feeling conspicuous, he took slow deep breaths to calm his pounding heart. He slowed his pace but continued walking when he saw a police officer ahead staring straight at him. He couldn't stop or turn without appearing suspicious, so he continued on. If he didn't confront the other man, the officer would stop and question him anyway.

When he got close enough, John asked a little too loudly, "Excuse me. Where can I find a payphone?"

The officer pointed over his shoulder. "Down those stairs and to the left."

"Thanks," John said, continuing past the officer. When he reached the stairs, he looked back, but by that time, the policeman was engrossed in something else.

As John went down the stairs, he let out the breath he'd been holding. He wasn't through this yet, but he'd tackled the hard part. When he reached the foot of the stairs, the phones were there, and beyond them the exit doors. He walked through one and onto the twilit street, joyous about what he'd done but also shocked. He never would've thought he had the courage to leave like that.

His celebration was short-lived, though, when a thought came to mind. Riley must be entering the interrogation room by now and finding him gone. His pulse quickened, so he picked up the pace of his steps to a fast walk. When he made it around the corner from the police station, he couldn't contain himself any longer. He started running as fast as he could, not having a clue where he was going. When he turned another corner still running, he met the rising sun of the new day that was about to begin.

*****

John had been running for several minutes and could take the strain no longer. He slowed his pace and stopped, leaning against a dull brick building to gasp for air. As a child, he'd always been prone to asthma attacks, and his gym teacher often excused him from running because it exacerbated the condition. He couldn't remember the last time he'd run so much and cursed himself for not exercising more.

When his wind came back, he glanced around. He couldn't stay on the empty streets like this. The police would be looking for him now, and he'd need somewhere to stay while he solved the puzzle of who he was.

He'd have to call Sue. She was the only one that might be able to help him. Although he'd imposed on her enough last night, she'd been so kind and understanding. He liked her. He hoped she'd recognize the dilemma he was in and help him to find some answers. If nothing more, she could at least get him off the streets, so the police didn't pick him up again. That, in itself, would solve his immediate problem.

He looked around again and saw a payphone on the next block. He hobbled in that direction, still panting from his earlier sprint. When he reached the phone, he searched his pockets for coins to feed it. They were empty of all but lint, the police having stripped him of his possessions. With even the clothes on his back not his own, there was nothing left of the world he'd known. He was abandoned and alone.

Without any money, he'd have to call Sue collect. Hopefully, she wouldn't mind. Now if only he could remember her last name. He was terrible at remembering names so stared into space while his mind circled, trying to recollect this small tidbit of information.

Was it Nelson? No. Sue Nelson was his mother's first cousin. Perry? No. She was the girl who teased him in elementary school. After several, mind-straining minutes, something clicked and he remembered. John flipped through the pages of the massive phone book to M. "Damn it!" There were two Manders listed, but neither was Sue.

"Hold it. I bet it's listed under her father's name." He had a choice of either Albert or Henry. Choosing the first listing, Albert, he picked up the damp receiver and stabbed the zero.

"Tri-State Bell. How may I help ya?" a squeaky female voice on the other side of the line asked.

"Operator, I'd like to make a collect call to 259-9658."

"Your name, sir?"

"John Fuller."

"One moment pah-lease."

After several clicks, the phone rang. It rang three more times before a gravelly voice croaked, "Hello!"

"I have a collect call from a Mr. John Fuller. Would you like to accept the charges?" the operator asked.

"I don't know any John Fuller!"

"Would you like to accept the charges, sir?"

"No, I don't want to accept the charges! I don't want to talk to any jackass that would call this early in the morning!" With that, there was a loud click as though he slammed down the receiver.

"I'm sorry, sir. The gentleman didn't want to accept the charges," the operator said, seeming unrattled by the aggressive man.

"Yes, I gathered that," John said, pulling the receiver away from his ear. The woman's shrill voice was starting to make his ear ring. He looked back at the open book, moving his finger down to the listing for Henry. "Can you try 253-7373?" he inquired.

"Collect, sir?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"One moment pah-lease."

This time the phone was answered after only two rings. "Hello?" John heard Sue say through the receiver.

"I have a collect call from a Mr. John Fuller," the operator said. "Will you accept the charges?"

"John Fuller?" Sue said. "Yeah, sure operator, I'll accept the charges."

"Thank you, ma'am. I'll connect you now, and thank you for choosing Tri-State Bell."

There was a click as the operator dropped out. John exclaimed, "Sue, thank God I got through to you!"

"John, what's going on? Where are you?" Sue asked.

"I'm at a phone booth on 63rd and 12th. Can you come and pick me up?"

"Sure, I'll pick you up. What's the problem?"

"I'll explain later. Just hurry," he said, his tense muscles relaxing.

"Alright, I'll get there as soon as I can," she said. "Bye." There was a click when she hung up the phone.

John walked back from the street towards a building and stood in the doorway to wait. "God, I hope she hurries."

*****

Waiting for Sue to arrive seemed an eternity. John's neck got sore turning his head back and forth to see if the police were coming, his heart stopping when a squad car approached. It started again when the car went past on other business. As he waited, the streets began to fill with the morning rush-hour traffic, and the security of anonymity closed around him.

Watching people pass on foot, John noted the uniqueness of each one. The diversity of facial characteristics, skin color, hair color, body shapes, and the distinct ways that they walked was striking. It seemed that the diversity of humanity was greater than in any other species on Earth. Why was that?

Another thought struck him. With all the variety in the world, why hadn't he ever fit in? Each of the people passing him was different in some way, in looks and in their thoughts. His appearance wasn't that unusual, and what he believed wasn't that different from other people he knew. What was it about himself that made others walk all over him and think he was odd? Why had there never been a place in the world for John Fuller?

He looked down at the pavement, not even sure that he was John Fuller. Just like the nameless faces walking by, he had no past and no future, only coming into being the instant he glanced at them. Was this how his life would be from now on too: no past, no future, only existing in the immediate moment?

The thought made him shudder. Maybe his life hadn't been the best, but it was _his_ life, and he wanted to get back to it.

A tall, slender man walking up the street at a brisk pace caught his eye. By his gait, he seemed to be in a hurry. Looking at his elongated face and calm gray eyes, one saw friendliness and patience. He saw John looking at him and passed with a smile and nod. John stared but didn't acknowledge him, instead starting to watch a woman coming from the opposite direction. She had wavy blonde hair, which she threw from side to side while she walked. Her clothes were of the latest fashion and dressed upon her with every attention paid to detail. Though concealed under a heavy layer of makeup, the frown on her lips and bloodshot eyes spoke of grave concerns over matters buried within. She didn't notice John when she passed and continued into the throng.

Though they walked past by the dozens, John continued to pick out individuals in the crowd. Each of the nameless faces led different lives, and each had different hopes and dreams, different fears, different likes and dislikes, different outlooks on life, and different reasons to live for. With the vast complexities that each of these individual lives encompassed, it was repeated billions of times over for every human that existed. Were all those billions really that much different from him though?

Just like him, each had their own story to tell. All had accomplishments that were, even if to none but themselves, significant. They also had failures that they could speak of at great length too. But if they did, would the person walking next to them even care? Did any of these people going about their business concern themselves with what horrors or ecstasies the person walking next to them was feeling? It was doubtful. It was easier to stay wrapped up in one's own world than to interfere with another and be inconvenienced. Would the tall, smiling man stop the melancholic woman and ask what he could do to ease her suffering?

John was looking at other pedestrians again when he caught a glimpse of a policeman across the street staring at him. The officer looked down at a cell phone in his hand, then back up. He then held it close to his face and started to speak into it as he walked in John's direction. Not needing further encouragement, John ran from the cop. Weaving back and forth, his fellow pedestrians slowed him as he bumped into one after another.

After sprinting almost half the block, John whipped his head around and saw the police officer on his side of the street. The cop had closed the distance by running along the street side of the parked cars instead of through the crowd. His eyes bulging, John raced faster and began to shove people aside to get them out of his way.

When the officer was parallel to John, he squeezed his way between the ends of two parked cars to make his way onto the sidewalk. With only seconds before the cop grabbed his shoulder, an alleyway came up on his left. He thrust aside the last remaining people between it and himself.

As he stormed into its entrance, he looked around. The alley was empty except for dumpsters and a solitary wino passed out on the pavement. He ran full speed, gaining distance from the cop. It was now the officer's turn to slow down while he tried to work his way across the sidewalk through the throng of pedestrians. The sounds of the city faded as John's gasping for air seemed deafening in the relative quiet of the alleyway.

When he neared the alley's midpoint, John heard cursing from behind and jerked his head backward a split second. The cop was on the ground having tripped over the outstretched legs of the wino. Thank God! It was about time he got a bit of luck. Too bad he couldn't thank the man.

As he reached the end of the alley, John looked ahead. The street beyond was similar to the one he'd left behind, though less congested. Because of its lack of traffic, he didn't slow but kept his pace when he reached the corner of the building. His foot just touched the sidewalk when a man appeared from around the corner and strode into John's path. The two collided and fell towards the pavement. Knocking the man backward, John spun ninety degrees before falling almost parallel to the street. Instead of landing, the momentum carried him forward, his injured forehead grazing past the concrete as he rolled over his shoulder. He stopped the roll by shoving his hands onto the sidewalk. He snapped to his feet, stumbled forward a few wobbly steps then steadied himself when he reached the curb.

As he crossed the street, a loud screech pierced his ears, and John slammed into a car whose driver had locked their brakes to avoid a collision. Luckily the impact was light, and his legs barely thumped the front fender of the car. Coming to a stop so fast though, he doubled at the waist, and his upper body slapped onto the hood of the car. He shot up from the expansive white plane of the hood only to glimpse into the eyes of the stunned driver.

Both men's eyes widened when John realized he'd crashed into a police car and the surprised officer realized this was the man he was after. John didn't let the shock stop him. He stumbled along the car's front bumper towards the alleyway opposite the one he'd come from. Out of the corner of his eye, John saw the policeman slam the vehicle's gearshift into park and scurry out the door.

This didn't slow John but caused him to pick up speed instead. He came off the street and ran around the few pedestrians standing frozen. They'd stopped their morning commute and were gaping at the commotion John was causing.

He entered the second alley, this one narrower than the first yet still cluttered with the ubiquitous dumpsters and trash. He continued his frantic pace but was beginning to tire. He'd only run a little over a block and a half in total, but his legs were aching, and his mouth hung wide to gulp enough air. With the wound to his head still fresh, a headache was starting and his vision was beginning to blur from the exertion. But, unable to pause even for a second, he ignored the pain and pushed his legs back to a faster stride.

John stole a quick glance behind again and saw the first police officer had emerged from the alley across the street. He was barking orders and motioning for the second officer to get back into the squad car. The wail of the siren took up while John ran on.

From what he could tell, the idea was for the first officer to continue his pursuit on foot while the second in the squad car drove around the corner, blocking the other end of the alley to prevent John's escape. He was confident he could traverse it before the car got through the rush-hour gridlock, but the strain on his injured head and out-of-shape body wouldn't allow him to keep up this pace much longer. He'd have to continue pushing himself on though or they'd have him bottled up if the squad was able to reach the other end of the alley first.

When the wailing of the siren moved off in the distance, the gasping of his breath drowned out its sound. Fatigue was slowing his pace when he ran past a dumpster and saw an open doorway set into the brick wall of a building. He skidded on some wet trash attempting to stop, sliding past the door and almost falling in the process. He caught himself and turned back towards the door. He now had a view of the policeman on foot and could see he was a mere thirty yards away. John took in a sharp breath. He was seconds from being caught!

"Stop right where you are!" the officer shouted at him, pulling the gun from his holster.

John cringed at the sight of the weapon pointing at him, but he forced himself to ignore the fear and ran to the door anyway. It was made of thick steel and was propped open with a length of two-by-four wood jammed under its knob. He grabbed the piece of wood and threw it inside with a rattling clank as it bounced off the heavy terrazzo floor. He turned and attempted to slam the door shut but found he couldn't. There was an automatic closer at the top, which not only pulled the door shut but also kept it from slamming. When John yanked on the door, it kept bouncing back open, seeming to have its own will.

He gave up after several hard tugs and turned back into the hall. His eyes were still acclimated to the bright sunlight outside so he could hardly see. He squinted and blinked a few times before seeing his two options. To the right was a stairway going up, and straight ahead was a short hall. If he went up and there was no way down, they could trap him. He didn't like the look of going forward either though. The hall opened into a vast, restaurant kitchen with people running to and fro prepping breakfast for unseen patrons.

After a split second of indecision, he headed toward the kitchen. He needed to get back to the phone booth to meet Sue, and this seemed to be the most direct route. Besides, it was unlikely the cooking staff would know what was happening or react quick enough to stop him. When he stepped forward, his foot caught on something, and he plummeted to the floor. His body twisted while he fell and hit the wall first before sliding towards the terrazzo. Upon impact, his head jerked around, and he saw he'd tripped over the two-by-four that had previously held the door.

"Son of a bitch!" he yelled. Anger welled in him and overcame the fear for a moment as he snatched the wood with the idea of hurling it at a wall. Instead, the sound of feet pounding up to the door distracted him.

The officer would emerge through the entrance any second, so John used the two-by-four like a crutch to stand up. He rushed to the stairs and got along the edge of the doorway, raising the wood over his head.

As the policeman swung the door wide open, he held his gun out in front of himself. While he inched through the doorway, John waited as first the gun poked through, and then the officer's hands emerged. John's arms shaking in anticipation, he waited until the man took one more step forward before swinging down the makeshift club. It impacted the officer's wrist with an audible crunch as bones were shattered.

  The man screamed in pain as he dropped the gun, but John needed to quiet him before anyone else heard. He stepped around the corner of the door and silenced him with a sideways swing of the wood, feeling like he was a slugger hitting a home run ball. The blow hit the officer's forehead, knocking him out cold before he even hit the ground.

John let the wood drop to the floor with a bouncing clang and looked back to see if the commotion had attracted any attention from the kitchen. From what he could see and hear of the chaos within, his was no match for the pot-rattling, plate-smashing, chef-cursing turmoil taking place there.

He dragged the officer's limp body into the hall and then stepped back into the alleyway. Sue would be at the payphone soon, so he headed back the same way he'd come. The cop in the squad car should be pulling up at the far end of the alley any second. He didn't linger. He couldn't run any longer because of his fatigue, but he trotted at the fastest pace he could muster. With more sirens wailing in the distance, adrenaline pushed him into a brisk jogging pace.

When he reached the street, it was dense with more commuters now. Feeling safer, he slowed while pushing his way through. Burying himself in the sidewalk crowd, the police officer in the squad at the far end of the alley wouldn't see him and think he'd continued in the other direction. It would be some time before they discovered the cop he bludgeoned, and even then, they'd suspect John had exited the building through the restaurant. They wouldn't expect him to backtrack.

He reached the street, and when he stepped off the curb, he froze. There was a blaring siren as another squad car came down the road from the right. The cars in the street were making an effort to move aside, but it was narrow and choked with traffic. As the squad car inched closer, John froze, his mind racing with thoughts of running.

Several of his fellow pedestrians stopped walking and stared at the police car too. Trying to steady his shaky legs, John stepped onto the curb again and took two more steps backward into the crowd. He leaned back to hide his face behind the head of man a few inches taller than himself, his whole body tensing while the car got closer. When it passed on its way to the block behind him, he let out a sigh and relaxed his overwrought muscles.

He stepped into the street once more and crossed before the traffic had a chance to start on its way again. When he got to the alley on the other side, he began running again. He jumped though when a voice to his right said, "Bastard didn't get you, huh?"

John slowed his pace and saw the wino that had tripped the cop was still sitting with his back to the wall. John said, "No, he didn't. Thanks."

"Anytime. Anytime."

John picked up his pace again and made it to the next street. He prayed that Sue was by the phone booth, and she rewarded him by being there. He ran up to her. "Where's your car?"

"John, what's this all about?" Sue exclaimed. "Why did you want me to meet you here?"

"I'll explain in a minute. First, let's get in your car and get out of here!"

John could tell she saw his panic, so she shrugged and led him to her car. After they got in and she pulled into the traffic, she asked, "Where are we going?"

"Go to your house," he said, scrunched down in the seat so that only the top of his head could be seen from outside.

She looked at him several times but didn't ask anything further. She just drove, giving him time to collect his thoughts.

When they'd left the traffic-choked downtown area, he let out a deep breath as his muscles eased. Although still rattled from the police chase, he was finally able to redirect his thoughts away from it. While he continued to look out the window as the suburban landscape flitted by, he thought about Sue. She was a good a person to help him out like this. She barely knew him, other than their meeting the night before. It was still surprising how she'd let him shower to clean all the mud off last night. She'd even given him a change of clothes. As he glanced at her and then back out the window, he replayed the evening before in his mind.

## CHAPTER 3

_The Previous Night . . ._

Sue led the way upstairs so John could clean himself of the mud that was caked on. His focus drifted from the house to his hostess, averting his eyes with the realization that he was married. When they reached the top of the stairs, the bathroom was directly opposite. It was larger than his bedroom at home and had a large claw-foot soaking tub with a back that sloped up high to give the bather better support. Its creamy white surface reminded him of the kitchen sink. There were no signs of scratches or dirt anywhere.

In the far corner of the room was a glass shower stall with marble interior and fixtures that matched those of the tub. The large pedestal sink to his left stood below an oversize oak medicine cabinet, its beveled mirror reflecting the light of an antique light fixture above. The floor was of small octagonal tiles, accented throughout with cobalt blue pieces. A wide oak base molding, which rose to a bead board wainscot, rimmed the walls.

It was amazing how much the style and decoration of Sue's house resembled the home he used to dream of living in. It was as though it had always looked like this during its hundred-year life—like time stood still here while the frenzied, outside world passed it by.

When he was still in school, John had seen a magazine dedicated to old homes in his college bookstore. He bought it and pored over its pages, the pictures of historic homes it contained enthralling him with their exquisite beauty. He knew, right then, that someday he'd live a house just like them but, of course, it never happened.

Sue's house wasn't only reminiscent of his dreams. It reminded him of Nana's house, only much bigger and older than the place he'd visited in childhood. His grandmother's home had been built in the 1920s, and it had little updating done to it. Even as a child, he felt like he was stepping back in time when he walked through the door. Because of that, it was somehow a sanctuary from the outside world. Sue's house evoked that same feeling in him. He felt so at home, maybe for the first time since Nana died.

"Wait a minute, and I'll get you some of my dad's clothes," Sue said.

"Are you sure?" John asked. "You've been so nice to me, and I don't want to put you through too much trouble."

"Don't worry, it's no trouble."

Gazing into her eyes for a long second, the compassion of their calming blue seemed to envelop him. A gentle smile came to her face, and she left the room.

When Sue came back with a stack of clothes in her arms, John said, "I'll have to thank your father for letting me borrow these."

The smile left her face as she looked down. "My father died a month ago."

The pain of her loss was evident as her eyes moistened, tears pooling on her lower lids. She swallowed hard but remained silent.

"Oh. I'm so s–sorry," he stammered.

John berated himself for saying the wrong thing. It seemed he was always putting his foot in his mouth, but this was worse. Seeing Sue's reaction to his careless words was especially painful. With another apology, he closed the door to the bathroom to clean up.

He undressed and paused for a moment. He'd only intended to wash up in the sink, but when he looked at the shower, it was far too inviting.

He called out, "Sue? Would you mind if I use your shower?"

"Well . . ." she paused for a second and then continued, "sure, go ahead if you want to. There are towels in the far left cabinet."

He stepped into the large stall, pulled its door shut and adjusted the shower nozzle to a hot spray. As he lathered in the warm mist, he went over the events of the evening, trying to fill in the lost memory of exactly how he got here.

John had gotten home an hour late from the office, and that was what started the fight with Rita. She tore into him the second he walked in, accusing him of being late because he was cheating on her with another woman.

John always marveled at Rita's paranoia over this. How she could think something like that was beyond him. Even if he were the type of man who'd cheat on his wife, who would he cheat with? Rita was the only woman who'd ever shown any interest in him. He'd felt lucky to have her when they dated in college. Now, he wasn't so sure.

They married right after he graduated and it hadn't been long after that the insults started. While Rita had always been assertive during their courtship, she'd never been belligerent. After the first few months of marriage though, she'd started calling him names like dumbass and stupid. She also kept telling him how lucky he was that she stayed with him.

At first, he defended himself when she insulted him. He found that when he did though, her anger would become uncontrollable. Twice she'd become physical, throwing an ashtray at him the first time and slapping his face the second time. Because of this, he'd learned to deny any accusations and accept the insults without fighting back. It was best to make amends with her as fast as possible and move on.

That was why after their latest argument, he'd offered to make her dinner. It was then that he found out they were out of Coke. He remembered all this clearly and also leaving for the grocery store. But, then, things got fuzzy. Somehow he'd ended up in Sue's front yard, and he wasn't exactly sure how.

John found a bottle of shampoo and massaged some into his hair, the wound on his forehead stinging from the suds. The pain triggered a flash, a blurry memory emerging in his mind. He was running up Sue's front porch steps and tripped, smashing his forehead when he landed. Why was he running? Straining for further details, he stood under the shower to rinse, the needle-fine jets of water prickling his head and body.

Stepping out of the shower into the steam engulfed room, the memory of the storm flooded into his mind. He was in the downpour, and everything around him was a blur except for a man in the distance. He remembered running to him and the man attacking him for no reason. And there was a second man; someone who came from the direction of the house and defended him. Who could it have been though? He hadn't seen anybody in the house except Sue. Had the person he'd seen pull out of the driveway as he walked up returned? But a car pulling back in the driveway would've hit him and the assailant. Anxious to ask Sue about it, he quickly dried himself with the plush towel and dressed. Pausing only to retrieve his wallet and keys from the pockets of his own clothes, he walked down the hall in search of Sue.

*****

Sue slouched in her living room chair deep in thought, her eyes gazing at the gold-framed photo of her father. He'd always hated having his picture taken. The corner of her mouth went up when she remembered how she'd hounded him to go to the photographer. Gladstone was updating their website and had asked for new pictures of them both. She wasn't certain, but it may have been the last one taken of him.

"Hey, I wanted to ask you . . ." John said as he walked around her chair.

His voice broke off when her face shot towards him, her fingers clutching the picture closer.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he said in a softer voice.

"That's okay," she said, turning the frame around and placing the picture in his hands. "I was just thinking about this picture of my father."

He sat on the couch as he looked at it, the edge of his lip turning down. "I'm sorry. It must be hard for you."

Sue paused before speaking. "My father and I were very close. My mother died giving birth to me, so he was the only parent I ever knew."

"Do you have any other family?"

"No, I was an only child. Both of my parents are gone, and so are all my grandparents." She paused for a second and then continued, "My mother has one brother, but he lives in Florida, so I don't get to see him or my cousins. Other than that, I'm alone. Well, that's not entirely true. I do have my Uncle Bob."

"Uncle Bob?" John asked, his brow raising.

"Yeah, my dad's best friend. I've always called him 'Uncle Bob.' I'm closer to him than my real uncle though."

John had been staring at the picture while she was talking, but his head snapped up as he asked, "You live alone then?"

She swallowed hard and shrunk back in the chair, startled by his sudden agitation. She cursed herself for trusting a man she didn't know. Why had she done it?

She'd gone into a deep depression in the last month, locking herself away in the house, reading books, and looking halfheartedly at the reports Uncle Bob brought. Her father and her work had been the two most important things in her life. They'd occupied so much of her time that she hadn't done much socializing. Sure, she interacted with people when she was working, but she'd never gotten close to them on a personal level.

The nature of their work meant that she and her father had labored many extra hours in the lab. Once started, they needed to carry their experiments to a conclusion, so it was easy to lose all sense of time. When there was a natural breaking point in the workflow, it could be ten o'clock at night, and neither had taken a real break all day. Even when she didn't work late hours, she usually went straight home.

Thinking back, she hadn't realized until now just how much she'd isolated herself from others, especially in the last month. She'd convinced herself that she didn't need anyone else, but she missed the companionship. She'd never been so hungry for company. Maybe that was why she hadn't thrown John out earlier. She knew nothing about him. She couldn't even remember his last name.

John calmed his voice. "I'm sorry for startling you. It's just that I remembered how I got the bump on my head."

"Oh?" she said, her hands still clutching the arms of the chair.

He described the confrontation with the first man to her and how he'd been attacked.

"Oh, so _he_ gave you the bump on the head then," she said.

"Well, no," John said, glancing at the floor for a moment before looking back at her. "He was choking me. I thought he was going to kill me when this second guy came along and got him off me. And then the two of them were fighting and fell on top of me."

"So then you got the bump," Sue said, trying to put the pieces together.

"Well, no." Again his eyes turned down for a moment. "But the thing I wanted to ask you is who the second guy was. He came from the direction of the house, but I know there's no one else living here. I was wondering if someone might have been visiting you earlier. I saw a car pull out of your driveway when I was walking to your house."

"Yeah, my uncle was here earlier. He must've been leaving when you came. He never returned though so he couldn't have been the second man." Her forehead crinkled. "So what happened to these guys? Where did they go?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't really know. When they fell on top of me, they knocked me out cold. When I came around, they were gone." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Are you sure it couldn't have been your uncle?"

"Positive. He was here much earlier, and besides, Uncle Bob is a little too old to be getting into fist fights," she said with a smirk.

"Well then I just don't get it," he said, shaking his head. "I don't know why this guy tried to kill me or where the other guy came from."

Sue sat in silence for a moment, before asking, "So wait a minute, you never did tell me. How did you get the bump on your head?"

John's face flushed. "Oh that. I stumbled coming up the steps of your porch and hit my head."

"Oh, okay," she said, doing her best to hold back a smile.

The red deepened as he said, "I guess I banged it hard enough to scramble my memory, for a little while at least. I remember everything now though."

Sue sank deeper into the chair as her muscles relaxed. She felt comfortable with him again after he admitted this to her. Just like the mud caked on him earlier, his admission made him seem more vulnerable than threatening. Most men would've lied to her and claimed the head injury was from the fight. He didn't, though, and she liked him more for it.

*****

They sat in silence for a time, but then John became uncomfortable, thinking he must be overstaying his welcome. Although he felt at ease with Sue and didn't want to leave, he said, "It sounds like the storm's let up, so I'd better get going. My wife is probably worried about me too." She'd be more upset about not getting her Coke than anything but he didn't say this.

"Your wife?" Sue blurted out. Her wide eyes narrowed as a scowl flashed across her face. "Oh yeah, of course, she'll be worried. You should call her."

"Where's your phone?"

Sue rose as she said, "I'll get it."

When she returned from the kitchen and handed it to him, John said, "Thanks."

He punched in his home phone number but jerked his head back when he got a recorded message that said the number wasn't in service. That wasn't right. After trying a second time with the same result, he hung up the phone and looked at Sue. "The storm must have screwed up the phone lines. I'm getting a recording that says the number isn't in service."

"Are you sure you dialed the right number?" she asked.

 "Of course. I know my own phone number."

"You're probably right about the lines being messed up."

"Yeah I guess," John said, his brows furrowed. He shook his head. "Oh well. I'd better call a tow truck to pull my car out of the ditch. Do you have a phone book?"

"Sure, over here," she said, going to a small bookcase.

She handed him the book, and after paging through it, he called a towing company. Since they were close, the man told John it wouldn't take long to get there.

*****

Sue sat back in her chair, the scowl still on her face. As she stared at her hands folded in her lap, she berated herself for being shocked that John was married. Again the keen loneliness of the last month had manipulated her, and the initial disappointment that she'd felt now irritated her. What was wrong with her? Of course he'd be married. He was here to use the phone, not ask her on a date!

As she looked up at John, her scowl faded. After all, it wasn't his fault that she'd locked herself away for so long. She'd done it to herself. He was a nice guy, and she shouldn't be rude to him. Maybe some small talk would cover her course reaction. Plastering a smile on her face, she asked, "How long have you been married?"

"About five years," John replied.

"Do you have any children?"

"No. Rita doesn't want kids," he said. Seeming uncomfortable, he shifted his body around on the couch cushion.

"Why, doesn't she like children?"

"No. She has no patience for anyone, including me. Besides, she said it would make her fat."

Although it seemed like he didn't want to talk about it, she pressed him further, now curious about how happy his marriage could be. "What about you? Do you want kids?"

He fidgeted for a second before rising and going to the window. "Is that the tow truck?"

"No, just the wind." She'd struck a sore spot. Clearly, he wanted children, but his wife didn't. "What do you do for a living?" she asked, hoping the change of subject would ease the tension.

"I'm a computer programmer. Pretty exciting, huh?"

Since this was a subject he didn't want to discuss either, Sue became silent, uncertain of what to talk about while they waited.

*****

John stood looking out the window, his face pink from Sue's questions. He had a boring life and a miserable marriage. While he liked Sue and she seemed to be the kind of person who would have a sympathetic ear, he didn't know her well enough to reveal these secrets. His whole life was a failure, and he was ashamed of it.

The room remained silent as he turned and shuffled back to the couch. He settled into the seat and stared at the floor, unable to look Sue in the eye.

"So," Sue tried again. "What do you do in your spare time?"

He jerked his head up. "Who me?"

"No, the person behind you," she quipped, a smile forming. "Of course you."

John's face reddened but then lightened when he noted the sparkle in her eyes.

"Nothing exciting," he responded.

"I'll be the judge of that. What do you like to do?"

"I read a lot," he mumbled, shifting his eyes to the floor.

"There's nothing wrong with reading. I enjoy it myself."

"Really?" he said, looking back at her.

"Why do you sound so surprised? I'm not illiterate," she declared.

 "I'm sorry. I didn't mean . . ."

"I was only teasing," she said with a chuckle. "Don't take me so seriously."

"I'm sorry. It's just that I don't know you well enough . . . I can't tell if you're joking or not."

"That's all right. People who've known me for a while can't tell either sometimes." The smile left Sue's face for a second but returned when she asked, "So tell me what you like to read."

"All different kinds of books," he said, his eyes staring at the floor again.

"Any particular genre? Biographies, fiction?"

His cheeks turned pink as he said, "Science fiction."

Sue blurted out, "You're kidding! I love science fiction."

"Really? My wife Rita says it's stupid trash."

"Is that so?" Sue said. "What high-brow activities does she partake in that she can make a statement like that?"

John laughed, his muscles easing as he noticed that glimmer in her eyes again. "Rita watches a lot of TV."

"Oh, tons of documentaries and educational programming I'm sure," she responded, her words dripping with sarcasm.

Again he laughed. "No, lots of dramas and reality shows."

"Oh well, I can certainly see why she'd say that to you then. After all, Asimov can't possibly come up to the intellectual standards of that."

"Asimov! He's my favorite author!" John exclaimed.

"Really? He's my favorite too!"

Suddenly, Sue's expression altered and John knit his brows.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Asimov was my dad's favorite author too," she replied, her eyes turning glassy. "Dad got me interested in science fiction when I was pretty young. It was Asimov in fact. The _Lucky Starr_ series he wrote. When I was in high school, I think I read every science-fiction book in the school library. When I finished one, I'd give it to dad so he could read it too. I remember talking to him about all the different characters and places in the stories."

As she finished reminiscing, a silence fell.

"I can tell you miss him a lot," John said, gently.

"I do."

Before John had a chance to respond, the doorbell rang.

Knowing it must be the tow truck, John followed Sue to the door where a burly man was standing.

"You the one who needs the tow?" the man grumbled.

 "Yeah. I am," John stammered as Sue turned in the doorway to face him. She was so close. Almost touching him. Her engaging blue eyes looked up into his, the sweet scent of her hair in his nose, the smooth roundness of her cheek as she smiled and supple pink lips so close he could almost kiss them. His face bloomed red, and he turned away. How could he have such thoughts? The idea was sheer insanity.

He concentrated instead on putting his muddied shoes back on. When done, he said to her in a quivering voice, "Thanks again. Maybe we'll see each other again sometime, and we can really talk science fiction."

"I'd like that," she said, taking his hand as their eyes locked once more. When a long second had passed, he turned towards the door and walked out, following the driver to the truck.

The rain had slowed, but the sky continued to flash in the distance, signifying it was only temporary. The night of storms had not ended but was only resting before its fury rose again.

*****

"John . . . John?" Sue said, trying to wrench him from his reverie. She took her hand from the steering wheel and prodded him in the shoulder. "John!"

"Huh? What? I'm sorry, I must have dozed off. I was just thinking about last night," he said, shaking himself from his thoughts.

"Well, are you going to tell me what's wrong or do I have to guess? Why did you have me pick you up at a phone booth anyway?"

"Sue, I don't know what to do. I'm not even sure how to explain what's happened to me," he said, becoming agitated again.

"It's all right," she said. "Just start from the beginning."

When John had finished narrating the events of the evening, she said, "I'm sure there's a logical explanation. You just went into the wrong house, that's all."

"I'd love to believe that, but why wouldn't the police have a record of my driver's license? Even more important, why wouldn't Virginia know who I was?"

When Sue parked the car in her driveway, she looked over at John. His hands were fidgeting and his eyes were glassy. He was definitely unstrung, but could he be insane? As if sensing her thoughts, John declared, "You think I'm crazy, don't you?"

She jerked her head back perceptibly, but said in a steady voice, "No, of course I don't." She couldn't be sure about it, but she didn't want to upset him further either way. After all, what did she really know about him? Would he snap if she showed her doubts?

"Well, I think I'm crazy," he said, as a tear rolled down his cheek.

She put her hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, I'll help you find out what's going on."

"Thank you, Sue. I knew you would," he said, wiping his face.

She became self-conscious from his stare and realized her hand was still on his shoulder. She snatched it away faster than she would've liked, fearful it may have offended him. "Come on, let's go in the house and figure out what we're going to do."

As they walked to the house, Sue analyzed why he'd made her uneasy. She wasn't afraid he might harm her. After spending time with him the previous night, she felt it to be a very remote possibility. What made her uncomfortable was the look he gave her. It was as if he had full confidence in her ability to solve his dilemma. The last thing she wanted right now was for anyone to depend on her.

Sue was having a hard enough time dealing with her own life, the burnout from work and, in particular, the death of her father. She felt burdened enough already and didn't want to take on the problems of others. Like Uncle Bob had said, she just needed more time to heal.

At the same time, she knew she'd run away from the world in the last month by locking herself away in the house. Maybe it was time to come out. After spending some time with John the night before, she knew she liked him. Helping him could be the first step in coming out of her seclusion.

When they entered the house, she led the way into the kitchen. "I'll make you breakfast. What would you like?"

"You know, I am pretty hungry. With all that happened, I don't remember the last time I ate. Anything will be fine."

"Do you like pancakes?"

"Yeah, smothered with maple syrup."

"Coming up."

*****

John sat at the counter looking down at his shaking hands, the panic of the police chase still racing through his mind. His life seemed to be getting even more out of control since last night. That the police would ever hunt him was something he never imagined. That he'd knock someone senseless with a two-by-four to keep from being arrested was even more inconceivable. The world must have turned upside down for him to reach these extremes?

 He looked up at Sue, and his trembling eased. She'd already shown herself to be more of a friend than his wife. It was more than that, though. She somehow had a capacity to ease his mind when he was with her. The only other person who could ever do that was Nana. He remembered her always telling him, "Don't worry so much, John. Things will work out for the best in the end." Being with Sue made him hear these words from Nana all over again.

As he watched Sue move efficiently about the kitchen, her bright manner was another sharp contrast to Rita. Sue seemed pleased to perform the steps his wife thought a drudge, and he was surprised to see all she was preparing for him. Besides prepping the pancake batter, she was frying bacon in one pan, potatoes in another and toasting bread.

"Do you like to cook?" he asked.

"Yeah. I enjoy the cooking. It's the cleaning part that I can do without," she said with a chuckle.

"You could've fooled me," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"Your house is spotless."

She grinned at him. "Well, I guess I like cleaning more than the mess. Why, don't you like a house this clean?"

"Actually I do," he said, knowing his own would look like a pigsty if he didn't do most of the cleaning. Not only did Rita dislike cooking, but she also hated cleaning. John continued, a scowl leaving his face. "I'm not comfortable unless everything is organized and I can find what I want."

"Yeah, my father was like that, so I guess I'm used to keeping a tight ship."

As she turned away from him to pour the yellow batter into the hot iron skillet, she paused. He could see the pain of her father's death in her reaction. Wanting to distract her, he asked, "What do you like to cook?"

The corner of her mouth turned up. "Oh, lots of things. I'd have to say though that breakfast is my favorite meal to cook. There's something special about the morning sun coming through the kitchen window and the smell of coffee brewing and bacon frying." She grinned. "Besides, I get cranky if I don't eat until lunch."

"I usually don't have a chance to eat breakfast, so this will be a real treat."

When Sue finished preparing everything, she loaded a plate and set it before him, sitting with her own across the counter. She kept sneaking glances at him, seeming pleased that he was enjoying what she cooked. John was far too hungry to concentrate on anything but the food, so they ate in silence.

When he'd almost cleaned his plate, she asked, "Would you like more?"

"Yeah, please."

Again, she loaded the plate, and he devoured everything, this time slowing halfway through.

Sue, who'd already finished, said, "Gee, I'd offer you more, but there isn't any."

"That's okay, I'm stuffed."

"You better be after that much," she said.

He chuckled. "I surprised myself. I didn't think I could eat that much." He gazed into her eyes. "That was the best breakfast I've ever had."

"I'm sure you're exaggerating, but thanks anyway."

"No, I'm not. Nobody has done this for me since . . . since . . . my grandmother was alive."

Her brows knitted. "Doesn't your wife ever make you breakfast?"

"My wife?" he snorted. "You've got to be joking. She won't even get out of bed before lunchtime. She's definitely not a morning person."

"Are you sorry you married her?" Sue blurted out. Her eyes shot into her coffee cup while she brought it to her lips, as though embarrassed by her own bluntness.

"No. Of course not!" he asserted.

John puckered his lips, the words seeming to leave a sour taste in his mouth. He knew deep down that this was a blatant lie. He'd only been acquainted with Sue for a short time, but, for reasons he couldn't comprehend, he trusted her more than any person he'd ever known.

"Actually, I guess I am sorry I married Rita," he said, correcting his earlier misstatement. "As a matter of fact, I'm very sorry." He blew his breath out. "Damn, it feels good to admit that."

Sue sat back, an eyebrow raised. "Why?"

"I think I've been trying to convince myself for so long that there are no problems between us that I've conditioned myself to just automatically deny it. But  . . ."

Before John had a chance to continue, the front doorbell rang. His head shot around, and he rose half off the stool, poised to run. His eyes growing as large as saucers, he jerked his head back to Sue.

He sat again while he whispered, "Are you expecting anyone?"

"No."

His heart was pounding a thunderous beat, the blood flowing through his veins like static electricity.

There was a second ring, and Sue stood up. Her calm demeanor rattled him even more.

"Don't answer it," he choked out.

Sue, who'd started towards the door, stopped and asked, "Why not? Nobody knows that you're here."

She looked at him, waiting for a response. Finally, he said, "You're right. Go answer it."

## CHAPTER 4

Bob Humboldt leaned forward, resting his arms on the glossy cherry conference table. "Come on, Ed, you know as well as I do that the oil crisis and those damn Chinese are a much bigger threat than the Mexicans could ever be."

Vice President of Foreign Affairs, Edward Greenburg, sat at the table opposite him. They were meeting at the DAP offices to discuss financing for Sue's quantum shifting project. Bob was trying to get support for additional funding, even though they'd exceeded their budget. Congress had given indications that they may cut it by thirty percent the following year, infuriating Bob. The project was vital to ending the country's dependence on oil. and Bob knew how crushed Sue would be if the project were shut down. He was hoping Greenburg could get the President's support to maintain, or even increase, the funding.

Bob had been forced to deal with politicians his entire career. He and Sue were on the verge of harnessing some of the greatest technologies to hit humanity since fire, and these fools wanted to shut them down. The damned idiots should be flooding him with money for what he was offering, but instead, they were standing in his way. All they were ever concerned with was the fleeting whims of their constituents and staying in power through the next election cycle.

Greenburg nodded. "I know, Bob, I've tried to tell the President the same thing a hundred times, but he just won't listen. Ever since the Los Angeles bombing, he'll do whatever Martinez says to keep the Union together."

Bob caught the disdain Greenburg felt when he referred to the Vice President of the Interior, Julio Martinez. A decade earlier, the Constitution had been amended to include two vice presidential positions, one for the interior and one for foreign affairs. Constitutionally, the Vice President of Foreign Affairs succeeded the President, so was the more powerful of the two positions, in theory. However, Martinez's influence had grown with the increased threat of domestic terrorism in the last year. He seemed to manipulate President Ryan with ease, and Bob knew it incensed Greenburg.

"We should've never annexed the Mexican states into the Union," Bob said. "All we did was buy ourselves a load of trouble."

When the Mexican government had collapsed, Bob had supported sending in troops to prevent the Chinese from moving in and to ensure that the country didn't descend into anarchy. However, when the previous administration, through bribes and intimidation, had engineered the vote for Mexico to join the Union, Bob had opposed it. Now, his opposition seemed prescient. The Mexican Nationalist Front was underscoring their demands for renewed independence with terror attacks, the Los Angeles bombing being the most devastating.

 "I agree," said Greenburg. "It probably wasn't the best idea to annex them, but now that they're part of the United States, Ryan will do anything to keep things intact."

Bob let out a breath. "I know, I know. The only thing that makes me think we shouldn't let those corrupt politicians and drug lords have it back is that the damn Chinese would step in to fill the vacuum. Then we'd have one of their puppet states right on our border."

"That's exactly it," said Greenburg. "I don't fault Ryan for doing what needs to be done down there. My argument with him is that all our focus is on the Mexican states and our eyes are off the rest of the world."

"Did you have a chance to read the report I sent over to you that my guy, Larry McAndrews, put together?"

"About the Chinese sale of nuclear technology to Venezuela?"

"Yeah."

Greenburg grimaced. "Yeah, I read it. I've brought it to the President's attention, and I keep bringing it up, but he keeps trying to minimize it."

"Minimize it!" Bob wanted to explode but calmed himself. The stupidity of these people. This was so typical of what he'd been coming up against all these years. Even if the electorate couldn't wrap their heads around the danger in a situation like this, he would've hope that the country's leaders could.

It was the same with Sue's project. It was obvious the public at large could never understand the importance of what they were doing. What was infuriating was that the leaders they elected seemed to possess the same level of ignorance.

Bob took a deep breath and continued. "If we keep letting this kind of thing slide, we're going to have nuclear missiles pointing at us from South America."

Greenburg looked down. "I know."

"Ed, you get me the funding I need, and I'll have the technology to kick their red asses back behind the Great Wall."

While Sue's project focused on creating unlimited energy, the technology that she'd developed was revolutionary. He was more positive of this than in anything else in his life. It would spill over into many more areas other than just energy, though, and would change the world forever. The United States would lead the world into a new era because of Sue, and it was his duty to make sure it happened at all cost.

Greenburg shook his head as he said, "Sorry, Bob, there's no way I can get the President to push for it. Martinez keeps recommending we eliminate funding for anything like this and pour money into the Mexican states. I'm afraid that until some big foreign crisis occurs or the energy crunch gets critical, the President is simply going to continue doing Martinez's bidding."

The discussion continued on other topics, but Bob had given up on the project funding. Although he'd never get the administration's support, he didn't fault Greenburg for his inability to influence the president. As far as politicians went, Greenburg was one of the sharper ones. He understood how important the project was, but Ryan and Martinez were clueless. They'd stand by and let the Arabs and Russians bleed the country dry with their high oil prices. With Ryan being in the pocket of the damn tree huggers, he also stood in the way of exploiting domestic petroleum resources.

What incensed Bob more than anything, though, was that Ryan and Martinez looked the other way while the Chinese bought cheap oil and their way into new markets for their products with nuclear technology. None of this mattered to them as long as the polls looked good.

Bob would do whatever it took to keep the project going. With the promise of free and plentiful energy and all the other benefits the project would bring about, he couldn't let humanity down by quitting. It would also break Sue's heart to give up the project now, especially when Manny had died because of it. There was simply too much at stake for Sue, him and the world to throw in the towel.

*****

Sue opened the door to a slender but well-muscled man of about thirty-five. When his eye caught her, his face melted into a smile, which softened its stern appearance.

"Hello. May I help you?" Sue asked.

When he spoke, his manner was friendly but with a commanding edge. "Hello, Miss Manders. My name is Vince Bechler. I'm sorry to bother you, but I was hoping to speak with you for a few minutes regarding your father," he said, his soft hazel eyes twinkling.

"My father?"

"Yes, we were working with him on a project. I was hoping that you could assist me, seeing as how you worked with him at Gladstone Industries."

"Yes, I do . . . I mean did," she said, correcting herself. At times, she still forgot he was gone.

"I'm so sorry about your father. He was a brilliant man, and it's a great loss to us all."

Sue read sincerity in his soft look and pouting lips. "Thank you. I appreciate your kind words."

Bechler's look changed in a flash and became all business again. "I have some questions regarding the shifting project and am hoping you can provide me with some answers."

"I'm afraid I won't be able to. It's classified, you know."

Bechler held up his hand. "I understand. My questions aren't about anything classified. Besides, I'm with the GSA." Bechler produced an identification card for her to examine.

Sue had never heard of the GSA—but then there were plenty of government agencies she wasn't familiar with. The identification card looked authentic though so she said, "Please come in."

She led Bechler into the living room, making a quick scan for John and finding him absent. She made no mention and continued walking to the couch. Motioning her hand towards a chair, she said, "Please, have a seat. I don't think I've ever heard of the GSA. What is it?"

Seating himself, Bechler shifted around in the chair until seeming to get comfortable. "It's the Global Security Agency. We're not as well-known as some of the other organizations you've probably come across." He turned himself more towards her. "How familiar are you with what's happening with the quantum shifting project?"

"Very, I worked out much of the theory behind the project. My father was more of the hands-on person though. He designed and worked on the actual hardware for the project." She continued with a grin, "We used to joke that I was the Einstein on the project and he was the Edison."

Bechler smiled as well. "Yes, I know of your theoretical involvement in the project. What I was referring to were the recent issues with power usage and the investigation."

"Investigation?" Sue asked. "What do you mean 'investigation'?"

Bechler's brows furrowed. "Your father didn't mention it to you? There was an ongoing investigation of the project's cost."

"I knew of the budgetary problems but not about any investigation."

"Were you aware of the reason for going over budget?"

"Yeah, my dad told me that there was a minor discrepancy in the power consumption of the quantum shifter. Before he died, he asked me to go over the calculations to confirm some of my projected power utilization curves."

"The discrepancy was more than minor," Bechler said. "In fact, there was significant usage above and beyond what could be accounted for by the experiments you were performing. The energy cost was getting so high that the Department of Atomic Projects had a special agent investigating it."

Sue narrowed her eyes. What was he talking about? The project had always been under the direction of the DAP after Uncle Bob obtained the funding. At first, he assigned a lower ranking official the task. However, once it progressed, Bob became personally involved.

During the initial experiments, they noticed that any matter that was shifted to a parallel universe returned after a time. They would shift a one-gram steel ball bearing and minutes later, it would reappear. If they used higher power to transport it, it would take longer but would still return. That was when Sue suggested they send a recording device and collect data from the other universe. What came back amazed everyone. There was another world there. It wasn't some empty black void but a lifeless planet. That was when Bob took over the direction of the project.

Sue was startled out of her thoughts by Bechler when he asked, "Did you hear me, Miss Manders?"

"Yes. Yes, of course I did. What do you mean a special agent? The DAP always oversaw the project."

"I know that Bob Humboldt at the DAP got the funding for the project. After the high electrical usage and the budget overruns though, Gladstone was ready to shut it down. The extra costs weren't in the budget, so they were forced to come up with the funds out of pocket. That was when the DAP brought in a field agent who's with the security arm of the organization, not the scientific."

"Why did they want someone like that looking into it?"

"Congress ordered it because they thought there was something fraudulent happening. They were told by your reports what the energy usage should be but were seeing consumption of electricity almost ten times that."

Sue shot forward. "What? That's not possible. There may have been some errors in my calculations, but there's no way they were that far off. The margin of error should've been less than a percentage point."

Bechler raised his hand. "I understand. In fact, I agree with you. Your calculations are entirely correct. My agency verified them. However, the fact remains that the energy consumption was happening at an alarming rate."

Sue eased back in the couch but asserted, "Well, if my equations were correct, something else must have been using the power."

"That's the reason they wanted an agent to investigate. You may have either met him or at least seen him around, Agent Lawrence McAndrews?"

"Yeah, I think I met him briefly. My father met with him a few times. But I didn't know anything about an investigation."

"As I said, McAndrews was assigned to investigate why the energy consumption was so high. However, after his arrival, the use climbed even higher. It was at this point that my organization became involved."

Bechler looked down while he said this, a grimace appearing on his face.

Sue asked, "What? Is something wrong?"

Bechler's head rose as he fixed his eyes on hers. He said in a level voice, "What I'm about to tell you will be hard for you to believe, but I assure you it's the truth. I'll give you proof of what I'm saying later, but first I just need you to listen with an open mind. Okay?"

"Sure. I'm open for anything," she said but knew she'd be doubtful. She still didn't trust him.

"First let me say that one of our agents was in contact with your father several weeks before his death," Bechler said. "We became disturbed by the level of shifting activity, so we started our own investigation. After some preliminary reconnaissance, we made contact with your father. He was also concerned with what was happening and was working with us to find out more. You see, we know what's consuming the high amounts of energy. We just don't know why or who's behind it."

He seemed to be skirting around something. She prompted him to continue by saying, "Okay, what was using the power then?"

"The quantum shifter. It wasn't using more energy than you predicted. Someone or some group was using it more often than was authorized and without anyone's knowledge. We had your father check the computer logs of the machine to see if we could pin down more facts. He found that each night the logs showed nothing from midnight to seven a.m. the next morning."

Sue interjected, "Of course there would've been no activity. We used to put the machine on standby every night before we left."

"You don't understand. There was _no_ information in the logs during these times, not even regular standby activity. Someone was deleting the entries between these times."

"I see. I wasn't aware of it. I guess I never looked at the records during those times. I was only concerned with verifying the operating parameters during our experiments."

"Exactly, I think that's what everyone focused on. It was only when our agent asked your father to check the logs at off hours that he saw what was happening."

"Wait, you said that you knew what was going on but not why. How did you know they were using the machine after hours?"

"We have the ability to monitor shifting activity and can see when it's occurring."

"You mean you were monitoring the power usage?"

"No, the shifting activity itself."

 "That's impossible. We can measure power usage, we can measure electromagnetic fields, we can even measure radiation emitted from the device, but there's no way to measure the shifting activity directly."

She knew the physics involved inside and out so said this with great confidence. The only other person who knew more about the mechanics of the project was her father.

"Well, I know _you_ aren't able to measure this, but we are. We have certain devices and technology that you're not familiar with."

Sue's nostrils flared. "What do you mean? You act like your organization has knowledge of this technology beyond ours. Since no one else is working on it, I don't see how that's possible."

After a pause, Bechler said, "Yeah, well you see, Miss Manders, here's the thing, we've had this technology for many years now. We've been able to develop it to a higher level than you."

"That's absurd! If it were true, I would've heard about it."

"Not if we were developing it in a different universe from your own."

*****

At first, Sue's jaw dropped from Bechler's statement, only able to give him a blank look but unable to say anything. While the moment seemed to last longer, it was only a split second before she erupted into riotous laughter.

As the spasms of laughter subsided, she said, "What do you take me for? If you think you can come up with this cock and bull story so you can get information out of me, you're sadly mistaken. What are you really after?"

Bechler countered, "I told you I can prove what I say. I'm not after any technical information regarding the project. I'm attempting to find out who's using the quantum shifter for unauthorized purposes, what they're doing, and who's behind the murder of both our agent and your father."

Any hint of humor over the situation left as Sue said, "Now what are you talking about? My father was working late one night and was accidentally electrocuted by faulty equipment. He wasn't murdered."

"We know he was killed. You see, the night he died, one of our agents was with him. He had equipment on him that was recording everything that happened. He and your father were trying to find out what they were using the quantum shifter for by accessing telemetry data directly from some of the quantum shifter's microcontrollers. Our man was recording this for later analysis by us, but it stopped before they finished. While we don't know everything that happened, we know that our agent came back to our universe dead. He'd been electrocuted by a very high current. The electrical burns were evident."

"If he was dead, how did he come back to your universe?"

"As you know from your own experiments, matter that's shifted from one universe to another returns after a time. The greater the energy burst used to shift the quantum frequency of the matter, the longer it'll stay in the other universe. At a certain point, if enough energy is imparted into the matter, it'll stay in the other universe permanently. However, we've found that at this point, any living cells will be destroyed by the heat caused by the agitation of the atoms. So, anyone who travels into another universe can only do so for a short length of time before returning."

Sue pressed her lips together. While it was still unlikely that he was from another universe, what he said was true. She was familiar with the phenomenon he described. They were studying it themselves, but only those in the project would know about it. Either he was telling the truth, or he was getting information from someone involved with the project. The latter was still more probable, but if he had proof, he'd better reveal it.

"What makes you think that I'd believe such a story?" she asked. "You're obviously getting information from someone in the project. I think you're trying to get further information by telling me this wild story of how my father was murdered, and that you're here to investigate something that never happened." She would've continued her tirade but had run out of breath. She inhaled to replenish herself for further attack.

Before she could continue, Bechler cut in, "Well, Miss Manders, I can see you're in need of proof." The look of apprehension left his face when he glanced down at what appeared to be a cell phone. He said with more assurance, "And I'm just about ready to give you some."

"Well this should be good," Sue quipped. "I'm sure you have some really important-looking documents you've forged that'll make me so believing that I'll just give you anything you ask. Just like that phony ID you showed me when you came in here. I'm not as gullible as all that. There's nothing you can show me that'll convince me at this point."

"I'm very sorry I upset you so much, Miss Manders. Believe me; I'm not here to get technical information or to compromise security on the project. I'm only here to find the truth, and I believe that's in both our interests."

Sue was about to object, but Bechler didn't give her an opening. "In just about thirty seconds, I'll give you the proof I spoke of. You're familiar enough with the shifting of matter from your universe to another, but you've never seen that matter returning; at least not from the point of view of the other universe. Well, you will in a second. You see, my time is up, and I'll be shifting back. You'll get to witness this with your own eyes. You're a scientist, Miss Manders, and this proof will be indisputable."

As he said the last, his shift started. He continued, his face twisting in discomfort of some kind. "To you, I'll start to shimmer and appear transparent for a second or two and then . . ."

There was a flash of light, and he was gone.

*****

John saw the scene unfold as he peered around the corner of the kitchen door. Bechler was there one second. Then, just like he'd said, he faded out. While John ran through the door, Sue bolted to the chair where Bechler had been sitting.

John cried, "Sue! What just happened? Where the hell did he go?"

"If I hadn't seen what things look like when they shift before, I'd say it was a trick," she said, her eyes still wide. "I don't think it was though. He must've been telling me the truth."

While she sat down in the chair that moments before Bechler had occupied, John began to pace back and forth, barking questions at her about the conversation he'd heard. What was all this about a project, shifting and parallel universes? Sue was lost in thought and didn't reply. While he waited for a response, it was John's turn to sit down.

Finally, she turned to look at him. "I can't go into all the technical details of the project for security reasons. Even if I did, you wouldn't understand unless you knew all the background physics and math involved. Anyway, you're familiar with the idea of parallel universes, right?"

"Yeah sure. Some of the science-fiction novels I've read use them as part of the story. Are you saying they exist?"

"Yes, they do. I can tell you from firsthand experience."

Parallel universes? Here he'd been thinking that he was the crazy one and now she was feeding him this fantasy. Or was it fantasy? After all, Bechler had just disappeared into thin air.

John raised his brow. "So you've been to a parallel universe?"

"Of course not! Don't be silly," she said, with a wave of her hand. She paused before continuing, "Although after what I've just seen, I guess it isn't so silly after all. Anyway, you'll need some background information before I can explain any more. Are you familiar with M-theory or String Theory?"

"I've heard of String Theory. Isn't that where all matter like protons are actually small strings?"

"Close enough. Protons are made of smaller subatomic particles called quarks, but the quarks are strings. In fact, all the myriad of subatomic particles we've discovered are component strings. Electrons, muons, neutrinos: all are different expressions of strings."

"Different expressions?" John asked.

"Yeah. You see a string can express itself in many different ways through its vibration. Think of it like the string on a violin. If we draw a bow across it, the string vibrates at a specific fundamental frequency. But more than that, it also vibrates with additional overtones or harmonic frequencies. The harmonic frequencies are what give the violin its distinct sound. You could play the same fundamental note on, let's say, a clarinet, and it'll sound different to you. That's because there are different strengths of harmonics being produced by each instrument."

John stared at her with a blank look. Although he'd read science fiction novels that used parallel universes as part of the plot, he'd never considered them as anything other than fiction. They were mere speculation, not other places one could travel to.

Sue continued. "The interesting thing is that these strings can vibrate in any of ten dimensions of space-time."

 "What . . . ten dimensions? I thought there were three dimensions of space and one of time?"

"No, there are eleven, but I'll get to the eleventh in a second."

"Okay, eleven then." His brows knit together. "How come I'm only aware of three?"

"Since the time of the big bang, all the dimensions have been stretching but not in the same way. The dimensions we're familiar with are stretching uniformly, like a sheet of rubber. The higher dimensions are stretching like a piece of woven material, though. The weave has stretched so much that the material is like a net now. Wherever the fibers intersect, the dimension is noticeable but, in the large openings of the net, the dimension can't be seen. The thing is, these intersections are on a subatomic level. While an individual string can vibrate into them, larger groupings of atoms can't move in them together. Therefore, on a macro level, we're blocked from moving within them as well."

Even though it was still very doubtful this theory was something concrete, John was trying his best to decipher her explanation and understand what she was saying. Not wanting to look stupid though, he didn't ask for further clarification on the points he didn't grasp. Sue was also getting excited at explaining this, and her enthusiasm was too intriguing to try and slow her down with too many questions.

Sue took in a big breath. "The next thing is there are at least four forces in nature: gravity, electromagnetism, weak and strong nuclear forces. Each of these forces is just a dimension in the universe. Einstein showed us that gravity is a bending of space-time: the more massive an object, the more it warps space-time. So gravity isn't a force that's pulling us towards an object, it's a warp in the space-time dimension pushing masses of matter into each other. The same holds true for the other forces. They're all warping of space-time—just the warping of other dimensions that give a different push to matter.

"On top of these first ten dimensions is the eleventh dimension. This dimension is the universal dimension and contains an infinitely long string called a membrane. All the strings in our universe connect to this membrane, which, itself, vibrates at a particular frequency in the eleventh dimension. This causes all the strings attached to it to vibrate at this same eleventh dimension frequency.

"Now, let's say we alter the frequency of one of the strings in our universe in this eleventh dimension. What do you think will happen?"

"I don't know. We get a different kind of particle?"

 "No," Sue said, "not a different particle. We'd move that string onto a different membrane and therefore a different universe. Because our string is out of phase with the first membrane's vibration, it'll detach and re-attach to a membrane it's in phase with. In other words, it attaches to another universe and will interact with the matter and forces there."

It was becoming apparent that the idea of parallel universes was not just fantasy. Not only was her enthusiasm for the theory winning John over, but the detail she kept adding was making it more plausible. Clearly, Sue was brilliant. If she was studying parallel universes, then their existence must be a viable theory. But did it explain his situation?

Sue continued. "Now, what I found through several equations I developed was that we can shift the eleventh dimension frequency of a string and push it from one universe to another. However, by doing so, we throw the multiverse out of the natural balance it's in. It'll try to push the string back to the original universe as either matter _or_ energy."

"Matter or energy?" John asked.

"Oh, yes," she replied, her excitement increasing. "As Einstein demonstrated with his famous equation, E equals MC squared, matter and energy are two sides of the same coin. We can either push small amounts of matter between universes to get back large amounts of energy or push large quantities of energy to get small amounts of matter back. It pushing back as energy is what we're most interested in, specifically electromagnetic energy. Since this is what we're using to make the initial shift of the string's quantum frequency, there's a natural tendency for the energy to come back as electromagnetic. In effect, we're opening an electromagnetic gateway between the universes. When force kicks back from the other universe, we can get it to cause a flow of electrons, or electricity. We can use the electricity as power, as if it came from any traditional generator, like a coal or hydroelectric generator.

 John shifted in his seat. "So that's what the idea is? To transfer matter from our universe to another so you can get energy back?" John rubbed his ear. If what she was talking about was using parallel universes for energy transfer, was it also possible to transport people between them? His mind momentarily drifted to Bechler before she interrupted his thoughts.

"Yep, we're after the energy," she replied. "And it doesn't take a lot of matter to get massive amounts of energy back either. One gram of material is enough to power a small city for a year."

"Really," John said, his brow rising. "So how do you shift this matter to another universe?"

"We're doing it by using intense magnetic fields from some superconducting electromagnets my dad developed. Once we permanently shift the matter to a parallel universe, a sort of gateway is open between the two universes and electromagnetic force leaks back through. We use the original electromagnetic coils that performed the shift to collect the energy on our side as electricity. Once we get the quantum shifter to work like we want it to, we'll have an energy source that's clean, efficient and unlimited."

"How close are you to using this machine then?" he asked.

While she was beginning to convince him that parallel universes did exist, how much of this concept she explained was actually practical? Was there a machine that could bring this bizarre theory to life? And even if there was one, could it explain what had happened to him?

"Oh we've got the machine working alright," Sue said, her eyes sparkling. "We're already able to make the transfer of matter to the other universe; it's getting the energy back that we're still working on. What I didn't take into account with my original equations was that strings have a natural resonant frequency that's optimum for their vibration. When we shift the matter's frequency with the minimal amount of energy needed, the strings will return to their resonant frequency rather quickly; therefore popping back into their original universe. It's like a form of inertia. We have to use progressively more energy to change the frequency for longer periods of time. At some point though, the change becomes permanent, and the matter remains at its new frequency, thereby causing the electromagnetic force that we're looking for to equalize the universes. The big stumbling block is to use as little power as possible to make the original shift so we can get back more energy than we put in. It's only possible because we aren't shifting the quantum frequency of the strings in the entire mass of matter."

"What do you mean?" John asked.

"Well, all we need to do is shift the frequency of the outer layers of the matter. Once this starts to shift, it pulls the rest of the matter inside the mass through the gateway along with it. This is due to the nuclear forces holding the matter together. Once we make the transfer and get that outer layer locked in initially, it holds the rest of the inner matter. If this didn't happen, we'd have to use more energy to transfer the mass over than what we get back. There's no free lunch when it comes to energy."

John's mind was swirling. He plunged the back of his head into the plush couch cushion and stared at the ceiling for a few moments.

"This is all so bizarre. I feel like I'm in some kind of dream. I can't believe anything that's happened in the last day."

"I know what you mean. It must be hard for you to absorb all this," she said. "Hell, what am I talking about? I've been living a nightmare for the past month too. I'm not sure what to believe anymore either." She turned and gazed out the window. "Was dad murdered?"

John's thoughts occupied him too much to hear Sue. Until a day ago, he lived a normal life. He had a respectable job, a typical wife and an ordinary house in an average neighborhood. It wasn't perfect, but it _was_ his life. Now it was spinning faster and faster out of control, and he wanted it all to stop. He clenched his eyes shut and wished for all the insanity to end.

Suddenly everything was too much. "This isn't happening! This isn't real! I want this craziness to stop!"

"Calm down, John," Sue said. "Getting hysterical about this won't help either of us. We need to think this through rationally."

He leaned forward, staring at her. She was part of this and therefore part of the frustration. All he could do was throw his head back into the cushion and yell.

Sue shot from the chair and sat next to him. She clutched him by the shoulders.

"John, stop this! You're not helping anything by getting angry! This _is_ happening, and we need to figure out why!"

His head jerked back as his eyes widened. Although he'd known her for a short time, her sudden force seemed uncharacteristic. As he recoiled from the unexpected onslaught, he fixed on her eyes and saw hardness like he'd never seen before. They softened though, and calmness replaced the intensity. The peace seemed to flow through to his body, filling him with soothing warmth. His nerves, which had a moment before burned with exasperation, were cooled by the vision before him.

Everything would be all right. Sue would solve the puzzle and get him back where he belonged. He felt this the instant he decided to call her from the payphone and felt even more sure of his faith now.

"That's better," Sue said. "We need to think this whole thing through rationally and logically."

"That's easy enough to say, but none of this makes any sense. How can you be rational over such an irrational situation?"

"That's the trick, John. I'm used to doing this. I've worked on physics problems for half my life. When something seems impossible, it's my job to explain how it is possible."

"Yeah, well, you're a physicist, and you've been working on this quantum shifter. You're used to what it can do. This is all new to me, so forgive me if I have some doubt about its reality."

"I can hardly believe what I've seen, so I can imagine how you must feel." Sue paused for a moment, her face softening. "John, I'm sorry for being so rough a second ago. I know this is hard for you to accept, but we have to deal with the situation as it stands."

It was hard to remember the last time someone had empathized with him. In the early days of their relationship, Rita had to some extent. Because her life had been somewhat analogous, it helped him to know that someone else had similar feelings. As time went on and Rita turned more egocentric, even this commonality was gone.

Sue's voice pulled John from his thoughts.

"Okay, Bechler said my father was murdered in the lab that night and that he was there to get further information about the power usage." She became excited and clasped John's arm. She let go quickly as her half-clenched hand thumped the open palm of her other hand. "I could never figure out why he was there, but that explains it. He never wanted anyone working alone in the lab, even for a minute."

John's arm tingled where she had touched him. The sensation of her delicate fingers persisted long after she withdrew her hand. As the electric tickle spread throughout his arm, his eyes wandered around her face. He thought she was pretty the first time he'd seen her, but now, in her present state of exhilaration, she was beautiful. The sparkle in her eye, the movement of her lips across her teeth while she contemplated, awakened a long hibernating thrill he forgot existed.

"John, somehow what's happened to you must fit into this too."

Lost in reflection, he mumbled, "Hmm? What?"

"Don't you see there must be some connection between this conspiracy and what happened to you? Can you think of any connection you may have to the project or Gladstone Industries?"

John blew his breath out hard. "No," he snapped. "I don't know anything about Gladstone, and I've certainly never heard of shifting before."

"Well, you have to be from a parallel universe. There's just no other explanation. It must be one that's close to this one because you said some people and places are similar."

Now that she actually verbalized what he'd been thinking, John didn't respond but just stared at her. The tension in his shoulders melted. He really was John Fuller, and he wasn't insane or suffering from some kind of amnesia. He really was in a parallel universe!

 "John, did you hear me?"

 "Yes, Yes! That means I'm not crazy. I'm just lost." John let out a deep sigh. "The only thing is, how do I get back?"

"That's easy," Sue said like it was as simple an equation as one plus one. "Since you're still alive, that means there wasn't enough energy used to keep you here permanently. You should shift back by yourself."

"Really?" he said, launching forward in his seat. "How long?"

"I don't know. We're still testing the length of time spent in other universes in proportion to the energy used to shift the matter. In my absence, one of the other physicists at the lab is working on collecting that data. I'm going to be analyzing it over the next few weeks myself."

"Can you give me even a rough estimate?"

 "From our preliminary tests, I don't think it'll be more than a day or so. I can't say for sure though."

"Thank God," he said, a grin expanding on his face. "So, by later tonight, I should be home?"

"I would say so."

## CHAPTER 5

As the sun crept up, its warm saffron radiance peeked in through the windows of the dining room. Reaching over, Sue turned off the squat hurricane lamp that had been the sole source of light through the night. She went to the front windows and drew on the cord that opened the drapes. When she turned back towards John, he sat forward on the couch with folded arms resting on his upper legs, his face angled down towards the floor between his knees. Although she felt sorrow for him, there was also relief at his not going. The more he was with her, the greater her sense of what she'd missed in the weeks of mourning. The isolation she sentenced herself to had become so customary that it was no longer noticeable as something anomalous. Feeling lonely was just a normal part of existence.

John's presence reminded her how much better it was to have someone to talk to and with whom to share a common experience. They'd talked for hours on end through the night, John finally becoming relaxed and opening up to her. At times, despite his earlier shyness, he'd done more talking than she had. Sue couldn't remember the last time she'd interacted with another person so much outside work. The life of seclusion she'd been living seemed an aberration in comparison to what she was experiencing now.

Although at some point he'd shift back to his universe and back to his wife, she was determined to enjoy his company while she could. Even though she kept telling herself that he wasn't a free man, she couldn't help herself. She liked him and hoped beyond reason that he'd stay, even if only for a short time more.

Sue walked back to him. As she towered over his half-prone body, she smiled. "How about a rerun of yesterday morning?"

"Hmmm?" he inquired, his red-rimmed eyes gazing up at her.

"How about a nice big breakfast again? It did wonders for you yesterday."

"Sue, I don't understand," he blurted out. "Why am I still here? You said I should've gone back already. Why didn't I?"

As his hurt look penetrated, Sue had the same feeling as the day before. He depended on her to get him out of his situation. For some reason though, this time it didn't bother her.

"I don't know, John. There's still so much we don't know about shifting. Like I told you, we're still studying it, and there may be other unknown factors involved."

"Well, I understand it even less."

"Come on. As long as you're still here, you may as well enjoy another one of my fantastic breakfasts." She pulled on his arm and led him into the kitchen.

This morning, Sue started with coffee brewed from freshly ground beans, moved to ripe melon drizzled with honey and then to a biscuit covered in pepper gravy. She finished with an omelet stuffed with oozing cheese and cubes of fried ham. Again John couldn't contain his enthusiasm and stuffed himself as though starved for days. They talked while they ate, Sue doing most of the talking, and John mainly acknowledging through his filled mouth.

"I've been thinking," Sue said. She lifted her coffee cup and took a small sip from its steaming rim. "I know what Bechler was talking about yesterday when he said my dad was pulling data from the quantum shifter directly."

"Yeah?" mumbled John, his voice muffled from all the food he was bulldozing into his mouth.

"The machine is controlled by a master computer that gives commands and gets feedback from a series of micro-controllers. From what Bechler was saying, the log files on the master computer are what the conspirators are erasing. Dad may have been tapping into the micro-controllers and downloading the data directly from there."

"Uh hum," he replied while he jammed another forkful of omelet in.

"There are twelve of them. Each controls different functions on the machine. The master computer pulls the information from them in real time as they generate the data. They have an internal memory buffer though, which can store quite a bit of data too. There's enough memory to store several shifts worth."

"I see," muffled out John, spitting a small fragment of egg onto the side of his glass of orange juice.

"There should be no problem going there and plugging in my laptop. I'm sure I can pull the data from all the controllers in less than an hour."

Now that she knew her father had been murdered, Sue needed to know who'd done it and why. Nothing would stop her from going after them and making them pay for her loss. While Bechler would be back to continue with his investigation, she didn't want to wait for him. Besides, the agent would need to get the data from the quantum shifter, and she was the only one who had access to the lab to download it. One way or another, she was going to have to go there. She may as well get it as soon as possible so they could start digging into the mystery. The problem was that she was afraid to go there by herself and needed to persuade John to go with her.

John stopped eating when the implications of what she was saying seeped in.

"What?" he garbled out, his voice still muffled from food. His hand shot towards his coffee cup, grabbing it and washing down the omelet remaining in his mouth. After gulping hard, he said, "You can't do that! Didn't this Bechler guy say your dad was killed trying that?"

"Well, yes, but . . ."

"But nothing! You can't be serious about doing something as crazy and dangerous as that!"

"Well, if we're going to find out what's going on, we need to get facts," she said, cocking her head and flashing her eyes at him.

"Getting facts is one thing. Committing suicide is another. I say we let Bechler handle it. He said he was investigating it."

"Yes but, John, he'll need me to go there to get the data anyway. Who knows when he'll be back so I may as well go and get it as a soon as I can."

"By yourself?" he demanded, his jaw set firm.

She flashed her eyes again. "I suppose if I have to."

"No! There's no way I'm going to stand by while you go there by yourself and get killed!"

Sue tried as hard as she could to freeze the expression that had been on her face. She could feel the slightest twitch of the muscle at the corner of her mouth trying to turn up but forced it back into place. She cooed, "Well, John, I'm glad you feel that way. I was hoping you wouldn't want me to go there by myself. You'll come with me then."

"I . . . I didn't mean it that way!" John stuttered.

"Well then, you'd let me go there by myself?" Sue forced her lips into a pout.

"Well, no! That's not what I'm saying!"

She had him flustered now and would be able to get him to agree. She felt a small pang of guilt but it wouldn't stop her. The times she manipulated her father like this had been rare. However, it had given her the experience to know that once she made up her mind to maneuver him into something, no amount of guilt could stop it.

Sue leaped from the stool and was on him with a big hug. "Thank you, John. I knew you'd come with me and help!"

"But, but . . ." John said, seeming as though he wanted to object further. Her hug melted his resistance, and his stern look collapsed.

Sue put a big smile on her face while she disengaged from him. Flashing her eyes, she said, "We'll go tonight."

All John did was shake his head and murmur, "Aw, shit."

*****

Sue drove on, still mulling over her earlier manipulation of John. How could she have done that when he was so obviously reluctant? She just couldn't come alone and needed him with her. It was as simple as that. Although he didn't seem like the bravest person she ever met, he didn't seem like a coward either. She was simply scared, and while it pained her to force him into coming, there was no other choice. The resolve strengthened in her again, so she kept driving.

She turned the vehicle into the long drive of Gladstone Industries. In the distance, a pool of light marked the front gate. On either side lay a row of very dim lights, marking the shadow of a fence line. The points were like glimmering stars that stretched on endlessly, fading into the blackness of night.

Looking in the rearview mirror at John in the back seat, she said, "Okay, John. Time to get down. We'll be at the gate in a minute."

As instructed, John lay down on the floorboard and covered himself with a black tarp Sue had given him. She knew all the security guards and was confident they wouldn't do a thorough search of the car, hoping for only a cursory shine of the flashlight inside. Nonetheless, her heart was thumping. She could get in a lot of trouble for smuggling someone into a top secret facility. While Uncle Bob had gotten her out of jams in the past, it was doubtful that even he could get her out of something like that.

She came to a stop at the gate and lowered the window, speaking to the guard. "Hello, Andy. How are you tonight?" she said with a smile.

"Well, look at this. What are you doing here at this time of night, Miss Manders?" The guard grinned back. "I didn't think you were back at work yet?"

"I'm not really. I was talking with Director Humboldt yesterday, and he said he wanted me to take another month off."

"Of course, of course." The guard straightened up. Even though he wasn't an employee of the company, Bob was very important at Gladstone. The mere mention of his name made everyone stand at attention.

"But I told him I'd start working a bit from home, analyzing some data."

"Oh, well that's good. Kinda ease back in a bit."

"Yeah, that's the idea. I need to get some files from my office though."

"This time of night?"

"Well, I couldn't sleep. Besides, it's going to be kind of hard to see everyone for the first time since . . . you know?"

 "Yeah, I know. I haven't had a chance to tell you how sorry I was about your dad. Everyone misses him around here."

"Thank you, Andy, that's very sweet of you." Sue's voice cracked. "I still get very emotional about it, so that's why I wanted to come by when nobody was around."

"I understand completely. Go ahead in. Do you need any help with the files? I can call one of the boys over to help you."

"No, that won't be necessary; I can manage. I only need a handful."

"Well, you have a good evening."

"You too, Andy."

After Andy had opened the gate, he waved to her from the window, and she drove forward. When they gained some distance from the gatehouse, she let out a sigh of relief. "Okay, John, you can get off the floor now, but keep scrunched down in the seat in case we pass anyone."

The facility that lay before them was a vast complex of steel-shell buildings used for manufacturing the array of Gladstone products. Some were dark and dead while others were beehives of activity as third-shift workers bustled about. Several fork trucks passed by, loaded with pallets of materials to be transformed by the machinery humming away in the factory shops.

She continued towards her target building in the far back corner. Although a sizable structure, the enormous warehouses she'd passed dwarfed it. This building housed the research and development department, her office and the shifting lab. At this hour of the night, there was never anyone in the building. She parked the car in the space closest to the door and called to John that it was all right to get out.

*****

When John exited the car, he stretched both arms and legs to get the circulation back into them. He looked around the shadowed lot, a single, faint light over the building entrance the only illumination. Across from the building was the back of a mammoth warehouse, a halo hanging over it from the bright lights of the parking lot on the opposite side. His ears buzzing with a low-pitch thrum, the scent of machine oil and smoke from a welder's torch filled the air. John could sense the bottoms of his feet pulse as the ground vibrated from the industrial engines buried within the building's heart.

The deep drone and the darkness surrounding him intensified the queasiness in his stomach. In the past, he'd always avoided danger. Now everything within him screamed to run away. The object of his apprehension was obscure, but that there was danger here was a certainty. Someone killed Sue's father for digging into this strange mystery, and it was chilling to consider the same fate falling on either of them tonight. As he shivered, he had the unshakable perception that at any moment a hand would grip his shoulder from behind and tear the life from his shuddering body.

Sue removed a black Cordura case from the passenger seat.

"C'mon," she said, leading him towards the solitary light. She stopped under it to swipe a security card in front of a reader. It let out a beep then a sharp click as a solenoid in the doorframe released the locking bolt. John clenched his body at the cold mechanical sound, as if the expectant hand had seized him.

Sue tugged the glass door open and walked into a vestibule. The second set of doors opened without the card, and they walked into a corridor that gave three options: left, forward and right. All three were dark but for dim nightlights in the ceiling every thirty yards or so.

To John, all options were imposing, a maze whose end could bring only punishment but no reward. He didn't have time to ponder because Sue took his hand and dragged him left into the threatening labyrinth.

"My office is this way. I need to get an interface cable for the laptop so I can connect it to the controllers."

When they got to the office, Sue again waved her card in front of a reader and got the same beep and click as before. When she opened the door, the lights within came on. John turned his head, the sudden brightness making his eyes feel like red-hot spikes had been driven into them. He followed her in, and when his eyes became accustomed to the illumination, he took in the room he'd entered.

It was of medium size with the standard arrangement of desk, chairs, bookcase and file cabinets to make it functional for its purpose. The walls were papered with a flowery pattern and lined to the point of overcrowding with pictures and charts. The photos were on the wall behind her desk and were of Sue, her father and co-workers. Undecipherable graphs filled the other three walls, so John gravitated to the photographs.

Before him lay a glimpse of Sue's life, and he wanted to absorb as much as he could. Any fear shoved to the back of his consciousness, he reveled in the opportunity to learn more about the woman he was risking his neck for.

As expected, the pictures were of happier times and those of triumphant accomplishment. There she was in front of some unknown equipment with her father and again with her arm around a middle-aged woman in a lab coat. In another, she was sitting at the desk next to him, looking at her computer screen and deep in thought. One with a wood frame displayed her and her father with a whole group of people in a cafeteria.

While all the photos were of interest to him, one grabbed him more than the rest: Sue and her father receiving an award. He stared at it with a sense of awe like he was in a museum and gazing at the work of one of the great masters. The smile on Sue's face lit the scene with an aura of happiness and beauty. She'd smiled many times since he'd met her but never like this.

Sue said, "Here it is. Let's go."

He wrenched his mind from the place it had been. He looked at her and then back at the photo, hesitating before following. It wasn't easy leaving the sanctuary the picture provided. Back in the warren of dark halls, John followed Sue through twisting corridors. Even if he had to, could he find his way back to the car?

At the end of one hall, they came to a gray steel door different from any others they'd passed. The ceiling in front of this door was fully lit. Again Sue waved her card in front of a reader, but this time only the beep sounded with no click of a solenoid following.

When Sue pulled on the door to open it, she said, "What the hell?" She swiped the card again with the same results. "Damn it. This should open."

Sue repeated the swipe several more times, each time tugging harder at the door. "They must have me locked out of the lab. C'mon, we'll go back to my office and call security."

When they arrived, Sue settled into her chair and picked up the phone. While she punched at the numbers, John stood beside her and again became lost in the refuge of the award picture. He looked back and forth between the picture and Sue. _God what I wouldn't give to see her smile like that again._

He sat in one of the chairs on the opposite side of the desk from Sue and began to examine her. As he did, he started to see the small imperfections that plagued even the most flawless of women. One of her eyes was slightly smaller than the other. Her lips were thinner and face wider than the beauty standards of the day would dictate. Her nose, though nicely proportioned straight on, in profile came to more of a point than it would in the ideal of beauty.

These slight deficiencies made her even more attractive. They made her more real and human than any picture of flawlessness in one of Rita's fashion magazines. Anyone who could light up a room with a smile like her had qualities far more important than a few meaningless physical inconsistencies.

Sue hung up the phone. When she saw his stare, her brows knit. "What? Is something wrong?"

"No. No." John shook himself from his thoughts. "What did they say?"

"My uncle ordered the lab locked down at night since my dad's accident, so they won't give me access. I'll talk to Uncle Bob about it tomorrow, but I'm afraid that doesn't help us tonight."

"Well, I guess we can leave then," John said, his body sinking farther into the chair when his muscles unwound. Although he'd been distracted from his earlier fear, he still felt uncomfortable being here.

"Not yet. I have an idea that may get us in without security."

John's heart skipped a beat. "Come on, Sue, let's go. That door looked pretty secure, so we're not going to just break in there. Please, let's just go."

 "John, if you want to go, then go. I'm sorry I made you come in the first place, but I'm staying. I can't give up without even trying to get in there."

There was a look of determination on her face. No, it was stubbornness. His eyes narrowed. He was always dealing with obstinate women who bullied him into doing things: first his mother and then Rita. Sue had maneuvered him into coming here. She was just like the others, and he was tired of it.

His blood pressure rose, and so did he. John stood.

"Fine, stay if you want, but I'm getting out of here."

He stomped out the door but only went several yards. Where was he going? He was a rat in a maze and didn't know the path to the treat.

"Damn it!" John cursed. He'd have to go back and ask how to get out of the building. While he walked to her office, the sound of Sue sobbing became audible. He felt like that rat again. This time, though, not because of the maze but because he'd walked out and left her alone. This woman wasn't his mother or Rita. She'd done nothing but help him since they met, and the first time she needed something from him, he'd abandoned her.

"Jackass," he said under his breath.

He entered the office. "Sue, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have walked out like that."

She lifted her head from the desktop and dried her eyes with the backs of her hands. "No, John, I'm the one who's sorry. I should've asked for your help instead of pressuring you. I'm asking now though. I need your help. Will you?"

"Yes, of course I will. You've helped me through the last couple of days and didn't have to. Now it's time to pay you back."

Sue rose and went to him, giving him a hug. "Thank you."

Her warm body pressing next to his sent electricity through him. She released him far too fast for his liking and was all business again.

"Okay, here's what we need to do. I have some superconducting coils here that we use in the quantum shifter. All we have to do is run some power through them and get them near the lock on the lab door. The magnetic field should trip the solenoid and release the latch."

John, still buzzing from her contact, muttered, "Um, okay."

"We'll need to find an extension cord long enough to reach from the lab door to the closest electrical outlet."

Sue stashed three of the coils, some gloves, cellophane tape and a pair of scissors into her jacket pockets and they were off in search of the electrical cord. They looked in several utility closets before finding a floor buffer. It had a long cord attached to it that John cut off, with some difficulty, using the scissors. When they returned to the lab door, they found an outlet about twenty feet down the hall, giving them plenty of cord to spare.

Sue attacked the end of the cord with her scissors and began stripping insulation from the wires. She cursed under her breath several times because it was like performing a delicate brain surgery with a meat cleaver instead of a scalpel. Finally, she got it though and used the tape to wrap the ends of the wires she'd twisted together.

"Here's what we need to do: plug the cord into the outlet, and at the same time move the coil around by the door latch to try and get it to trip. I'm not sure where we need to position it though. The main problem is that these coils won't be able to handle the current flow for long and will heat up. We won't have much time before they burn out, so we have to act fast. As soon as the latch trips, pull the door open."

"All right, let's try it," John said, as he took the coil in his hand. Donning the gloves Sue gave him, he stood ready while she inserted the plug into the wall socket. The coil hummed to life with current and almost leapt from his hand as it yanked towards the steel door with surprising force. There was a whiff of insulation burning and the heat of the coil radiating through the leather work-gloves when he moved the coil to the left. A loud buzzing sounded, and then a stuttering click, click, click as the lock started to release from its secured position. Even so, the door wouldn't open at John's lurching tugs.

There was a loud crack and a blinding arc when the coil shorted out, its insulation giving way to the smoldering heat. John's hand sprung away from the exploding helix while he jumped back to distance himself from it. His feet tangled in the cord, and he fell to the ground on his derrière. Sue also reacted, jerking the plug from the socket and running over to him.

"John! Are you all right?"

His eyes were wide but sightless. The afterimage of the arc smeared a blue-white blob over everything he looked at. He reached for her several times before grabbing onto her shoulder.

"What the hell happened?" John croaked out, his body trembling.

"The coil insulation melted, and it shorted out like I said it would. Did you get shocked?"

"No. It just scared the hell out of me." He blinked his eyes several times. "I can't see a damn thing. It's like someone just took a picture of me with a camera flash."

"That's from the electrical arc. It should pass in a minute. Just sit here for a while until it does."

Sue sat next to him and rubbed his shoulder. After a few minutes, she asked, "Can you see all right now?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." He got to his feet and helped her up.

"You ready to try again?" she asked.

"Yeah, I guess."

"All right, this time I'll take the coil."

"Oh no you won't," he said, shaking his head. "I'll take it again. I could hardly hold onto the damn thing because it kept pulling towards the door. I don't think you'll be able to hold onto it with one hand. You'd have to use two, and then you wouldn't be able to open the door. Besides, I think I know where to hold it now to spring the latch."

"Okay, if you're sure."

Sue pulled the second coil from her pocket and went to work wiring it to the cord. When done, she handed it to John. They got into position, and she plugged it in again. The coil whined to life and tugged his hand. As he brought it closer to the door, the buzzing started, but then there was a solid click when the latch released. He yanked on the door, and this time it opened.

Sue jerked the plug from the outlet and ran over to the door beside him.

"It worked!" she exclaimed.

"It sure did! I don't believe it!"

When John opened the door fully, the lights automatically came on inside.

"Just stand there and hold the door while I get everything," Sue said.

She wound up the cord, gathered the burned-up coil and gloves, and shoved them in her pockets. She picked up the Cordura case last and walked into the lab with John behind.

Lights, dials and flashing computer displays assaulted John. There was an excitement here, the equipment seeming to have a life of its own. It appeared to move with each flash of light and breathe with the unceasing whirl of cooling fans. It was alive with the energy of not only this but all the universes of possibility. John was a man who embraced computers and technology in general, but it was overwhelming even for him. It was unimaginable that such a device was possible but, with all he'd witnessed, he was forced to acknowledge it. No wonder this all-powerful entity, which could move through the whole of infinity, lured Sue. He looked back at her and gave a slight shake to his head. She dared to do what he never could, control and tame the beast to a purpose that would benefit all.

The monstrous machine was divided into various sections and formed a "U" shape around the room. To the far left and right were rows of equipment racks filled with black-faced gear with flashing lights on their surfaces. Some of the devices were recognizable as computers, but most others were a mystery. Several had large dials with digital readouts next to them. Others had no controls or displays of any kind but only a single switch paired with an LED to show that it was live with power.

The equipment racks on both sides wrapped around the corners towards each other at the back wall and only stopped when they met a large glass-faced booth. It was dead center of the wall and measured about ten feet square. Its floor was several inches off that of the lab, and its ceiling rose to ten feet in height. In the middle of the "U" formed by the racks and booth was a control console with seven computer displays flickering with various counters and moving line graphs.

Despite the formidable energies the machine contained, John hesitated for only a moment before edging his way towards the control panel. He swallowed hard but then laid his hand on one of its displays. He felt its gentle pulse on his fingertips but knew it was only a mindless tool, even if one of great importance. One of such world-changing power that someone thought it was worth killing over. But, then again, men had killed for less.

He looked at Sue, who'd positioned herself in front of one of the other displays. This one was larger than the rest and must be the primary control. Her fingers flashed over a keyboard with an ease that spoke of familiarity. She was in control of this infinitely powerful instrument, and he felt justified in his earlier faith in her.

Sue turned to him. "Okay, John. We're all set here. We'll need to go around to the back of that row of equipment racks to pull the data." She pointed to the cabinets that stood on the left side of the console.

There was a short space between the back of the cabinets and the wall, which made it look like a narrow hallway that continued all the way to the back wall. Sue opened the door on the back of one of the racks and went to work. She removed a laptop computer from the Cordura case and plugged the cable she'd retrieved from her office into it. Once she started the computer, she plugged the opposite end of the cable into a jack on the equipment inside the rack. Her fingers flashed over the keyboard and numbers started scrolling onto the screen as the raw data dumped from the controller. They repeated this process four more times, opening different cabinets each time.

They were in the sixth cabinet and watching the data spool onto the screen when there was a loud click and muffled voices coming from the direction of the lab door. The drone of the cooling fans was too noisy to distinguish how many there were or what was said. Sue and John stared at each other, wide-eyed, their bodies rigid. They hunkered against the backs of the cabinets for protection, no matter how false a sense of security it was.

*****

The voices continued to move about the other side of the equipment racks. Sue motioned for John to come near, whispering, "Let's go to the end of the racks to see if we can find out who they are and what they're saying."

John was closest to the end cabinet so was the first to reach it. When he peered around the corner, Sue brushed up next to him and scrunched down to a level below his to look around the corner too. Three men were standing near the doorway talking. The first, a man of medium height with dark brown, spiked hair, was wearing a black sports jacket and denim pants. Sue had seen him before, but his name escaped her. The other two were taller and more muscular. They wore steel blue slacks with white short-sleeved polo shirts adorned with an indistinguishable insignia. From this distance, she could understand what they were saying over the din.

"Something's definitely burning," said the smaller man.

"Yeah, smells like burning rubber."

"Can't be anything serious or it woulda set off the fire alarm," piped in the third.

As they talked, another man came into the room. From her angle, Sue was unable to see his face. He wore black dress pants with a blue linen shirt, and his short-cropped hair was a dirty blond. He immediately joined the conversation.

 "What do you mean it can't be serious? Something could've burned out in the quantum shifter, and now it won't work. Damn it, Phil, find out where that smell is coming from."

"Sure, sure," said the shorter man. "I'll run a diagnostic from the master computer. Franz, you and Bobby check out the controller racks to see if you can tell which one the smell is coming from."

Franz turned and started to walk towards the equipment racks they were behind. Sue pulled John back around the corner. She pointed towards the back wall and started in that direction. They stopped at the cabinet where the laptop was, and she disconnected the cable from the controller. As quiet as she could, she closed the door, gathered up the laptop and case, and continued towards the back wall.

After they'd rounded the corner, Sue let out a sigh of relief. Even so, a thorough search of the room would find them, so her muscles remained tense. Again, the men were talking, but she was having difficulty understanding all but the loudest words.

"Diagnos . . . every . . . green," Phil said. His voice rose louder to call out. "Franz, check behind all the cabinets and see if anything is burning there."

Sue heard _that_ all right and, by his look, John had too. He was turning his head back and forth like a trapped animal looking for a way to escape. She could feel his fear, and her own, as she also looked to find a hidden exit. There was none.

They flattened their bodies to the backs of the cabinets, delaying the inevitable as long as possible. After a moment, John, who'd been farther away from the corner, brushed past Sue and got close to the cabinet's edge. He stood there taking deep breaths, the fear absent from his eyes. In its place was something unfamiliar. Though their gaze seemed to last an eternity, its significance was indecipherable. Finally, he turned. His fist curled up, and his arm drew back while he readied himself to strike Franz when he came around the corner. Thank heaven her earlier assessment about John had been true. He was no hero, but he was no coward either.

They were only in this position for a moment before the soft click of Franz's shoes on the polished concrete floor resounded in her ear. The snap of his heels ticked off seconds like a clock pendulum. The blood draining from her face, Sue sucked in a large breath and held it. She dare not exhale, or the approaching hunter would hear its release.

Franz's shadow hovered past the corner, blotting against the wall and floor. John's fist squeezed further with tension, ready to explode, his arm quivering from the strain.

 "Hey, Franz!"

Bobby's voice stopped Franz just before he reached the corner. He was so close to the edge that when he turned, wisps of his long, dark hair floated around the corner then disappeared again as they settled back to his head.

"What?" Franz boomed.

"Phil said forget it. The smell is coming from the hall outside the lab."

"Okay. I'm comin'."

As he walked off, the large man grumbled to himself, "I told 'em it was nuttin'."

 "Damn that was close," she whispered to John after taking a few breaths.

"You're telling me," he blew out a breath, his head lowering towards the ground.

"Let's go back around the cabinets so we can hear what they're saying."

John nodded and led the way back to the far corner. They assumed the same positions as before and began to watch and listen. Phil was at the control console along with Franz. Bobby stood to the side, shifting from one foot to the other. Their boss, who was no longer there, must have left Phil in charge.

"When will you be ready to shift?" Franz asked.

"Another fifteen minutes or so and there should be enough energy built up. You can start bringing in the guns."

"Sure thing," Franz said. He and Bobby walked towards the door.

It was unclear what they meant, but she soon found out when the two men hauled in crate after wooden crate, stacking them in the shifting booth. The black stenciling on the sides indicated they contained automatic rifles.

John nudged Sue and pulled her back around the corner. He whispered, "What the hell are they doing?"

"I don't know," she whispered back, shrugging her shoulders. "They're obviously planning to shift those guns, but I don't know why."

"Do you know them?"

"I've seen the shorter one, Phil, but not the other two. I didn't get a good look at the tall blond one before, so I have no idea who he is."

As John shook his head, she leaned back around the corner, hoping find out more. After several more trips, the two had filled one side of the booth with a pile of crates four high. When they brought the last in, they dropped it to the floor and went to the control console.

"All right, we're ready to shift now," Phil said. "Starting the countdown."

Sue braced herself for the familiar reaction that she knew was coming.

*****

John detected a low-pitched hum rising above the whirl of the fan noise. As it got louder, it also increased in pitch but remained low enough for him to feel it in his chest like a rumble of thunder. The hair on his arms began to stand on end, and his skin felt like a static electric charge was building in his body. He touched the side of the equipment cabinet, which he knew must be grounded, expecting the sting of a discharge to bite him. There was no spark though. As he continued to feel the strange sensation building, it turned to a definite feeling of nausea.

The queasiness prodded John's mind, remembering the same feeling the night he first met Sue. Although still fuzzy, he remembered the feeling during the fight. Or was it after? Either way, that must be when he'd been thrust into this universe.

The first man had attacked him, trying to choke out his life. He must have thought John was someone else so assaulted him. Had he tried to eliminate John by throwing him in a machine like this? It was just as possible the second man had done so. He also may have mistaken John and sent him into another universe as protection from the first. Whichever it was, the question remained as to who the two men were and why they sent him here.

While the flutter in John's stomach intensified further, Phil started to count down aloud. "Five, four, three, two, one . . ."

On the count of two, the crates within the booth began to shimmer. By zero, they'd faded from existence with a noticeable whoosh of air. The hum faded away, and the odd sensation that John had been experiencing with it.

Phil turned to Franz. "Okay, go get the boxes."

The two returned a few minutes later with gray steel cases in their hands; about the size of cigar boxes but taller. The way the men carried them suggested they were much heavier too. They stacked the boxes in the shifting booth just like they had the guns and left to get more. After several more trips, they waited in the booth.

After a time, Phil said, "We'll have enough power to shift again in a minute."

The low hum started, and John felt the charge building. When the nausea hit, Phil called out, "Five, four, three, two, one . . ."

For a second time, there was a whoosh of air when the men and boxes disappeared. Thankfully, the shift had ended when it did. This time the nausea had been so bad that John almost vomited. Phil stayed at the console, his fingers alternating between the keyboard and touch display.

John backed away from the corner and nudged Sue to get her attention again. When she didn't respond, he whispered, "Sue."

"Hold on a second," she whispered back, her eyes still glued to Phil.

A minute later, Phil rose and walked from the room. Sue pulled back from the corner of the cabinet and glared at John, her jaw working back and forth as she gritted her teeth. He thought she was directing the anger at him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to distract you," he said.

"No, no, that's not it," she said. "I just realized who the guy in the black jacket was."

"Phil? Who is he?"

"He's with the DAP. I remember my uncle introduced him to me when he came to the lab one time."

"DAP?" John shook his head. "Why would they be doing this?"

"They're not. Uncle Bob is pretty high up there, so I know they aren't. But at least one and maybe more employees are. They know what they're doing though."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you know what he was doing before he left?" she demanded. Before he could answer, she declared, "He was erasing the log files."

"That's just what Bechler said they were doing."

"I'm not sure why or where they're transporting those guns, but this is what Dad must have found out the night he was here. That's why they murdered him," she fumed. "I'll kill every one of those bastards for what they did."

"Sue, we don't have time for this. Let's get what we came for and get the hell out of here."

The mention of killing made John flinch. Sue didn't mean what she'd just said, but the men involved in this were capable of killing without hesitation. He took her hand and pulled her back in the direction of the laptop.

They downloaded data from all the controllers, even the ones they'd already done. Sue wanted a complete data set to analyze. They made quick work of it, all the while keeping their ears tuned to the sound of the door latch. It never clicked, and they went unnoticed in their exit from the lab and the building too.

When back in safety on the car's floorboard covered by the tarp, the reality of the danger they'd experienced sent an icy shiver through John's marrow. One more step forward and Franz would've killed them both. They'd driven over a mile from the compound before he rose from the floor and returned to the comfort of the seat. Only then did the iciness in his body begin to thaw.

## CHAPTER 6

"I think I have it," Sue said, looking up from the screen of her laptop with a grin.

She and John had been hunched over the computer at Sue's dining room table since arriving back at her house many hours before, crunching through the miles of collected data. The sun was up now and shining through the windows, throwing a glare on her laptop screen. Sue rubbed her weary eyes but smiled anyway. The thrill of discovery she was feeling now had been missing for the last month. The loss of her father had been great but was amplified by a loss of something else she loved, her work.

Sue's work was inextricable from her memories of her father. Her career had always been alongside him, first as an assistant and then as a partner. He'd been mentor, collaborator and companion. Until this moment, she didn't think the excitement she found in her work would be the same without him. Her fondest memories of him were the way his whole being would shine when she brought him a solution to a problem they'd been laboring over. His excitement and approval was so contagious, she'd glow for days. Now, she realized that discovery was thrilling, in and of itself, even without him there. Nothing could match seeing her father's pride in her, but the work could still be exhilarating.

Although rusty from her long hiatus, she was proud of the way she'd processed the data so quickly. She was equally impressed with John's ability to assist her with a program he'd never seen before.

They'd copied the control program off the quantum shifter's master computer so they could feed the data through it for preliminary compilation. The trick had been to format the data files from each microcontroller into the correct file layout for the program to read. With John's programming expertise, he coded a program to convert each of the raw text files to a database file the control program could digest. Not only was Sue impressed by how quickly he was able to do this, but she could also see how much he enjoyed it. He was beaming the whole time his fingers flew across the keyboard coding the program. It was obvious he loved computer programming and was very good at it.

Once John's program finished assembling the raw numbers into the database file, Sue was then able to link it to the control program and perform the final analysis of the data.

"It looks like they've been shifting to two different universes." Her finger touched the screen to show John. "The first is here, and it's the one they've been visiting the most."

"What do those numbers mean?"

"It's the relationship of our universe to the other with respect to the change in the quantum frequency and oscillation patterns to get to it." He still appeared puzzled. "Just look at it like a grid coordinate on a map."

"All right, I can see that. Almost like a latitude and longitude."

"Exactly. To make it easier though, let's refer to it as 'Universe A.' Now the second universe, which we'll call 'B,' is here." Again, she pointed at the screen. "This one is farther away, so to speak, and takes more energy per trip to shift to it. However, they've been shifting there less often and moving less mass when they do. Overall, they've used less total energy going there."

"Do you think they're transporting guns there too?"

"Given the amount of energy used, I doubt it," she said shaking her head.

"Could they be transporting those gray boxes to Universe B?"

"It's possible I suppose, but there's no way to tell for sure. We're still testing the amount of energy, versus the mass of an object, versus how long that object stays in the alternate universe." Too bad she hadn't gone through the data that Uncle Bob had brought her. It would help to make the different shifting parameters the conspirators were using clearer.

"What do you think was in those boxes?"

"At first I figured it was ammunition for the guns, but that doesn't make sense."

"Why not?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "That makes a lot of sense."

"Well, for one thing, they didn't use enough energy to keep the boxes there on the second transport. If they had, it would've killed the two men."

John grinned. "Maybe they're getting tired of old Franz and Bobby."

"I thought of that too but here . . ." She clicked on the coordinates that designated Universe A and then on the last trip on the list. "You can see they didn't use anywhere near the same amount of energy as the trip with the guns. Here's a comparison graph."

She clicked again, and a line graph came up showing the last several trips to Universe A and the power used for each. It showed less than 5% of the energy was used in the last trip compared to the one before. While she didn't have the data compiled from the latest series of tests, she'd been involved in the preliminary ones. She was confident the last trip didn't have anywhere near the amount of energy to make the shift permanent.

"Why would they go to all the trouble of shifting those boxes if they were going to come right back with them?" John asked.

"It doesn't make any sense. At least not with the facts we have."

They were both deep in thought when the doorbell rang out. Sue looked at John, who acted like he hadn't heard it. Surely there was no way for anyone to trace him here. Still, it was probably best for him to stay out of sight, and she told him so.

 "You're right," he said, his eyes darting about as he jumped from the chair. "I better go in the kitchen again."

Sue waited until he was in the kitchen and for the second ring of the bell before she headed for the door. When she opened it, Bechler was standing there with a warm smile on his face.

"Good day, Miss Manders. May I come in?"

"Agent Bechler. We've been waiting for you to come back." Sue opened the door wide and motioned for him to enter.

"Thanks," he said as he entered. "Call me Vince."

Sue led him to the living room, and Bechler chose the same chair as before. He settled in with a smile. "What did you mean when you said 'we'?"

_Damn_ , she said to herself. She hadn't meant to let that out. To cover, she acted bewildered. "What do you mean?"

"You said 'we've been waiting for you to come back.' Who is 'we'?"

At first, she was going to continue playing dumb but then had second thoughts. John was in no danger from Bechler.

"John, come in here," she said, looking at the kitchen door. "John? Come on out. I think we can trust Vince."

John peeked his head around the door and then emerged from behind it. As he walked into the living room and sat next to Sue on the couch, she explained to the agent that John also came from another universe.

 "What?" Bechler said, leaning forward. "You mean another universe is investigating this too?"

"No, I'm not investigating anything. In fact, I'm not sure how I got here. I was walking up to Sue's house a few days ago, and some guy attacked me and knocked me out. Then here I was."

"A few days ago?" Bechler pulled a cell-phone-like device from his jacket pocket and pointed it at John. He pressed a sequence on the display and numbers flashed across it. He pulled the device back towards himself and looked amazed.

"This is remarkable!" Bechler exclaimed. "I don't ever recall seeing anything like this before."

"What is that device?" Sue asked.

Bechler leaned forward in the chair and held it so Sue could view the display. "Here, see? It's a portable computer, but it has various sensors in it too. One is a sensor that can detect the electromagnetic signature of matter. With that, it can extrapolate the quantum frequency of the matter as well. It isn't as precise as some of the devices I have back at the lab, but it's still pretty accurate."

"That's very interesting," she said. "I'd love to know how it works. We don't have anything like that, especially so compact."

She leaned forward, her eyes glued to the device. They had various ways of measuring the shifting process and, in theory, how it would affect the matter. However, she hadn't analyzed any matter once it shifted. How would it change the properties of the atomic structure? The ability to measure the effects would give additional insight into how they could modify their quantum shifter for greater efficiency.

"Like I told you before, we're a bit more advanced in our technology," Bechler muttered while he continued to stare at the screen. He popped his head up and looked at Sue. "This is strange. I can see by the quantum signature that there's an odd harmonic oscillation present that I haven't seen before. But your friend's matter seems locked in this universe."

*****

"You mean I'm here for good?" John's heart began to thump. He wanted to get back to his normal life again, and now this man was telling him he might never be able to.

"Well, I can't be sure. The matter in your body appears to be stable in this universe, but with that strange oscillation, I can't tell you anything for certain. I'd love to get you back to our lab for further study." Bechler paused and then said, "I'll have to look into getting some better instruments here so we can investigate this further."

John wasn't paying any attention to what Bechler was saying. All he heard was that he appeared to be stable in this universe. He may never get home again. His mind raced with thoughts of getting back.

He simply didn't belong here and yearned to go back to his normal life. While he hadn't been the happiest person, it was what he was used to. It had been a quiet and safe existence, unlike the anxious and uncertain one he'd experienced in the last few days.

John asked, "Do you know of a way to get me back home?"

"I can't explain how you got here, let alone figure a way to get you back." Bechler looked at Sue. "I'm not sure why he isn't dead. Every time we've shifted any living organisms with enough energy to lock them into a different quantum state, there was an enormous amount of cellular damage. Do you have any theories?"

"No, I'm not sure how he got here either. He just showed up on my doorstep."

"Do you know what day and time that was?"

"It was three days ago around eight thirty p.m.," Sue said.

 "Yeah," John nodded. "It seems like a lot longer though."

He thought back to the police chase and the narrow escape at the lab. So much had happened in such a short time. He wasn't used to this pace, so it seemed like a long time had passed. Because his life had always been quiet and predictable, even seeing Rita right now would give him some welcome normality back in his life.

What he missed the most though was his programming job. He enjoyed the work, even though his boss, Mr. Mattson, always took all the credit for it. John was the one who put in the long hours and came up with solutions that saved programming time and made the code more efficient. But when awards were handed out and bonuses paid, John had never gotten one. It was always Mr. Mattson who received the accolades from the higher ups.

Sure, he had issues with Rita and his life in general, but his love of computer programming helped to overcome that unhappiness. When he was at work and writing a program, he became lost in the intellectual puzzle it presented. Although coworkers put him down and criticized his work, he knew he was good at it nonetheless; the only thing he really _was_ good at in life. Not being able to go back to it would leave his life empty.

Bechler snapped John from his thoughts. "I'll see if the lab got any strange readings on that day around eight thirty at night. I'll bring the data from my handheld back too and see if anyone can make more sense of this than me."

"Speaking of analysis," Sue said, "I have some data I think you'll be interested in. We went to the shifting lab and pulled the data you wanted from the microcontrollers."

"What?" Bechler shot forward, his hands thumping onto the plush arms of the chair. "Why did you take such a chance? They could've killed you like your father and Miguel."

John assumed Miguel was the agent with Sue's dad the day he died.

Sue folded her arms. "Well, I want to find out who killed my dad. Besides, we need to know what's going on with the quantum shifter, don't we?"

"Yeah, but we don't need any more people killed over this either."

"We needed the data, and I was the only one that was going to get it."

"Yes, you were," Bechler said. "But I didn't want you two to just stroll in there and get it. I intended to go with you, along with one of my other agents. And believe me, we would've been armed to the hilt."

"Well, that's ridiculous," Sue retorted. "We got everything we needed without any guns or knives."

"Maybe" John snapped, "but we were only about two seconds away from getting ripped apart by Franz and Bobby."

That he had narrowly escaped attacking Franz made him shiver. Even now, he was uncertain. What had come over him? It was a very odd feeling he had last night. There was fear, but somehow he'd suppressed it so hard it no longer held any significance. Was it that he felt it his responsibility to protect Sue?

The long look she'd given him when he showed he was willing to take on the larger man had been an unusual sensation too. It was something he'd never felt before. It was as though her eyes told him that she had every confidence in his ability to protect her. Nobody had ever shown any faith in him, let alone with their life.

"Who are Franz and Bobby?" Bechler asked.

Sue glowered at John. "Never mind them. Can we just drop this?" Her eyes were nothing like they'd been last night. There was irritation there now. She turned to Bechler. "Aren't you interested in what we found in the data?"

"Yes," Bechler said. He continued in a stronger tone, "But before we drop it, you mustn't do anything that foolish again. Whoever is behind this means business, and I'm sure they won't have any problems killing more people." He eased back in the chair. "Now, what did you find?"

 "Come on over to my computer and take a look."

The two men followed while she went into the dining room and sat in front of her laptop. They stood, one over each of her shoulders, while she brought the figures onto the screen.

"We were able to pull complete data for the last twenty shifts and partial data for two more from the microcontrollers," Sue said. "What we found is that there are two different universes they've been shifting to. The first is here, and the second here."

"I'm not sure I understand what those numbers mean," Bechler said.

"Here, let me show you." She pulled a yellow tablet from her laptop bag and started scribbling notations on the page to mathematically show Bechler the location of the universes. John's eyes glazed over, and he took a seat in one of the other chairs at the table. Bechler knelt to study what she was writing.

The joyful expression on Sue's face was reminiscent of the award picture on the wall of her office. Although it wasn't quite the same, her excitement at explaining the math to Bechler came close to the warm glow of joy she'd displayed in the picture. She seemed in higher spirits now than the whole time he'd been with her. It was evident that she loved physics and that her work was a vital part of her life.

John turned his gaze to Bechler. The agent was looking back and forth between the numbers on the pad and Sue's eyes, seeming to linger on her eyes more. John scowled. What was this guy's story? Should they even trust him? For all they knew, he was part of the conspiracy, and Sue was telling him everything.

As Sue continued to explain, John interrupted, "Sue, can I talk to you for a second?"

 "In a minute, just let me finish this."

"It's kind of important."

Sue looked up again, her brow puckered. "I said in a minute." She shook her head and went on with the explanation. Bechler stared at John for a second more, and then looked back at the page.

John rose and went into the living room, throwing himself onto the couch. What was it with women? They never listened to him or showed any respect. They just walked all over him.

It started with his mother, where he grew up in a single-parent household. His father having run off when John was very young, he never had a male figure to interact with or emulate. In fact, all he'd ever heard about his father, and men in general was that they were deceptive and couldn't be trusted. Whenever he did anything his mother felt inappropriate, she'd hold the father he never knew as an example. "Don't act like your father," "You're acting just like your father again," or, "I don't want you growing up like your father," is all John ever heard.

She'd always been very demanding, and he was never able to live up to her standards. He remembered in sixth grade coming home with his report card in hand, so excited to show his mother. He got straight A's and knew that he'd finally please her. She crushed him when she showed no pride or even acknowledged his accomplishment. She scolded him for not getting grades like that all the time and said she expected all future report cards to be as good.

His mother never listened to any reasoning either. He'd gotten in trouble when his grades slipped the first semester of his freshman year in high school. It was after a day in early fall when he was helping Nana clean her basement after a flood. She'd called and begged his mother to let him come over and help her. His mother finally relented, and John was glad to go. He loved visiting Nana those rare times he'd been allowed to.

The smell of mold had been overpowering as they worked, and after a time he fell into an asthmatic fit. An ambulance had to rush him to the hospital. Although Nana was worried about him, he could still see the calming look on her face as she comforted him while they waited for the rescue squad. He'd been terrified at first but then reassured, knowing he'd be alright with her by his side. She loved him and eased his mind like nobody else ever had.

It was a long recovery, being several weeks before the doctor released him for school. When he did return, he was behind in all his classes and spent the rest of the semester catching up. His grades reflected this, but his mother wanted no excuses from him. He spent the second half of the year grounded until his grades came back up.

As he reflected on how unreasonable his mother was, he realized that Sue was nothing like that; nor was she like Rita for that matter. While Sue may have dismissed him a moment ago, she'd been so kind and understanding. The only other person who had the same compassion and ability to make him feel at ease was Nana when she was alive.

His chin dropped. Why had he thought so poorly of Sue? Just like when he stormed from her office last night, he was seeing her through the distorted lens of his past, his relationships with his mother and Rita. He was reading motivations into Sue that didn't exist. He recalled the look she'd given him when Franz almost came around the corner of the equipment cabinet. Rita had never looked at him like that. With a single look, Sue had given him a more precious gift than any Rita had in the years since he'd met her. Respect.

Bechler's voice interrupted John's thoughts. "Okay, that makes sense. We use a different notation, but it's similar. I'll work out a conversion later. Let me take a picture of your notes. Now we can see where they're going and how often, but we still need to find out why."

"While we were collecting the data, several of the conspirators came in and shifted to Universe A," Sue told him. "Before they did, though, they sent about twenty cases of automatic rifles there first. See this shift here? That's why the power utilization was so high."

"Rifles? Why would they be shifting weapons to another universe?"

"It didn't make sense to us either."

"The only way we'll find out is to go there ourselves," Bechler said. "I'll plan on shifting there as soon as we can get everything set up. That brings up something else I need to talk to you about."

"What's that?" Sue asked.

"When was the last time you were in your barn?"

"Hmmm, I don't know. I never go out there. My dad used to have a workshop in it to develop some of his inventions, but that was years ago. We just use it for storage now."

"Well, can we take a walk out there? I'd like to show you something."

"What's there?"

"Come on; I'll show you."

John turned to see them rising from the table, so sprang from the couch. "Can we talk now, Sue?"

"Okay." She walked into the living room. "What is it?"

John looked past her and said to Bechler, "You can go ahead out to the barn. We'll be there in a minute. I just wanted to talk to Sue about something."

"Sure," Bechler said as he walked towards the front door.

John waited until he left then said, "Sue, I don't trust him. I don't think you should've told him everything."

"Why don't you trust him?"

"What do we know about him? We've only seen him one other time, and now, all of the sudden, we're supposed to trust him and tell him everything? Do we even know he's from another universe? For all we know, he could be one of the guys who killed your father."

Her head jerked back. "What? That doesn't make any sense."

"Sure it does. I think you're just letting him charm you. Just because he's smart about shifting doesn't mean you can trust him."

"John, if you'd just think for a second, you'd realize how ridiculous you're being."

"Ridiculous! Who's being ridiculous? This smooth-talking guy comes along, gives you a line, and you fall all over him."

Sue let out her breath. "Bechler isn't part of the conspiracy."

"Oh, really?" he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "And how do you know for sure?"

"First, I had no idea my dad was killed until he told me. I didn't know anything about the machine logs being erased or that my dad was there to collect data from the controllers. In fact, I knew nothing about any conspiracy until Bechler told me."

John shifted from one foot to the other while she continued. "Second, I know he isn't from our universe. There's no way he could've disappeared like he did the other day unless he was shifting back to another universe. Third, he has technology we don't have. Did you get a good look at that handheld computer he had? I know I've never seen anything that can detect the quantum signature of matter like that, and I'm one of maybe a half dozen people that know anything about this technology."

She stared at John with a smug look that was maddening. There was no way to respond to her, so he looked down. She was right, of course, but he couldn't give in so easy. There was something in Bechler's manner when he'd been talking to Sue that was offensive. He couldn't figure it out right now, but he would.

"All right, what you say makes sense," he said, looking back up at her. "But I still say there's something about him I don't trust. I just can't put my finger on it."

"Well when you do put your finger on it, let me know. Until then, can we go out and see what he wants to show us in the barn?"

With John still mulling over Bechler in his head, they went to the barn. It was a typical old barn like any working farm would have. It was a large two-story building with the requisite hayloft over the large sliding door. The gray of the wood slats that covered it peered through the peeling red paint, which had seen brighter days. To one side of the large door was a smaller, man-sized door, which Sue entered.

When John followed, his jaw dropped as he looked around. The interior didn't match the expectations of the exterior at all. This was no barn he was in. With animal pens removed, the space was a large room that occupied a third of the structure's first floor. Workbenches sat in its center, and long rows of cabinets lined the walls. Various pieces of test gear sat on the benches, some of which he recognized, most of which he didn't. Bechler was unpacking equipment from some boxes in the far back corner.

As they walked up to him, Sue asked, "What is all this?"

Bechler looked up. "This is your new quantum shifter."

"Quantum shifter? What do you mean?"

John examined the different pieces. If it was a quantum shifter, it didn't look anything like the machine at Gladstone. There was no wall of rack cabinets or large shifting booth, only a single computer terminal, two equipment racks and a small booth open on one side.

"This is something we started working on with your father," Bechler said.

"My dad never said anything to me about this."

"No, we just started moving equipment in when he was killed. It took us a month to get all this shifted here. In the last few days, we've been assembling everything."

"I saw the quantum shifter at Sue's lab, and this doesn't look anything like it. It's a tenth the size," John said.

"Like I said, we're a bit further ahead in this technology than you are. We've been able to miniaturize the coils for the booth and also incorporate most of the controllers into integrated circuits specialized for controlling the shifting process."

"This is incredible!" exclaimed Sue. "I can understand integrating all the control functions into specialized chips, but how were you able to shrink the coils?"

 "As you know from experience, the greatest challenge is to get an electromagnetic field strong enough and focused enough to change the quantum frequency of matter. What we've done here . . ."

John tuned out again. He knew nothing about the physics of shifting and didn't care to. He walked to the computer terminal and examined its layout. There was a compact keyboard the size of a laptop's, only not as flat. The surface continued behind the keys and held a rectangular flat panel display, a kind of touch screen that angled up from the tabletop. It was interesting. The controls would most likely change depending on what function you performed on the primary monitor.

The image on the main screen seemed three-dimensional. John moved his head from one side of the screen to the other. The controls and graphs shifted around as though he were looking at an actual raised surface. He reached his hand out to touch one of the graphs and snapped it back when something appeared in front of it. It took him a second to realize it was a pointer of some type. He moved his hand back towards the screen and found that he could move it around the screen to point to different objects. The movement of his hand in three-dimensional space worked like a mouse moving a pointer on a computer screen.

John was moving his hand to get a better feel for its control when Bechler said, "Careful with that, John, I don't want you to activate anything."

 "I'm not pressing anything, just moving the pointer around. This is a cool interface. I've never seen a computer like this before."

"Yeah, I'd say it's a bit different from what you're used to, but my guess is that you have all the technology needed to create something like it. I don't think we're too far ahead of you in that regard."

"Could be," John said. He narrowed his eyes. "I'm curious about something though. Why did you bring this machine here?"

Although Sue had been pretty convincing in her arguments about Bechler, he still didn't trust the man completely. Why would he go to all the trouble of shifting this much equipment into Sue's barn? Was it to impress her in some way and influence her to do something for him?

"I was wondering why you brought it here too," Sue said.

"As I mentioned before, this is something we've been working on for over a month. It was your dad's idea, Sue."

"It was?"

"Yeah. Once we found out more about the shifting activity on your machine, we wanted to investigate why and where they were going. Since we aren't able to adequately monitor the activity from our universe, he suggested we bring monitoring equipment here to yours."

"Okay, but this is more than just monitoring equipment. This is a quantum shifter," she said.

"Yes, it is. Once we find out what universe the conspirators are shifting to, we'll need to shift there ourselves, and this machine will give us the means to do so."

"Uh, why not use the machine in your universe or the one in Sue's lab?" John asked.

"Sue's machine is guarded and not easy for us to get to. Besides, they're already questioning its energy usage. We couldn't very well use additional energy without raising even more red flags."

"Makes sense. But why not just use your machine?" John said, forcing a smile on his face. The agent had to be hiding something from them.

"In my universe, we're experiencing an energy shortage. I know you're in a similar situation, but we've reached a critical level. The cost of energy has skyrocketed, and our world economy is at the point of collapse. We have rationing and daily blackouts just to maintain our society, but we're reaching the point where even that isn't working. The energy budget for this project has been cut and cut again."

"Wait," John said, turning to Sue. "I thought the whole reason for developing your quantum shifter is energy production."

 "Yeah, it is."

John looked back at Bechler, his head tilted. "So why doesn't that work for you?" He'd finally caught the agent in a deception, so the corner of his mouth came up.

"Our physicists determined it would take more energy to shift matter to another universe than we'd be able to get back," Bechler replied.

"I think they better look again," asserted Sue, her nostrils flaring. "My equations show we can get back more energy."

"Well, if you don't mind sharing them with us, I'd be happy to bring them back to my universe," Bechler said. "For now, though, we have to deal with the situation as it is, and that means having this machine here."

Bechler stilled hadn't answered John's question. He asked with more force. "So how does having the machine here help?"

"Until you and Sue found out which universe the conspirators were shifting to, we didn't know where it was. We only knew that it was distant from us and would take an enormous amount of energy to get to it. As Sue knows, the more you have to alter the quantum frequency of matter to shift it, the higher the energy usage. Since our power is rationed to such a low level, we knew we could make only limited trips to your universe. We weren't sure we could make even one to this other universe though."

"You're going to use this as a relay point then?" Sue asked.

"Exactly."

"So you'll shift to this universe and then get in this machine to shift to the other one?" John asked, his brow wrinkled. Although there were no telltale signs the agent was being deceptive, John didn't know him that well. He could just be a good liar.

"That's the idea." Bechler looked at Sue. "Your dad suggested we use your barn because he already had an ample power service installed from when he used it as a workshop."

"I can see the size difference between this machine and the one in my lab, but does it use as much power?" Sue asked.

"No, it's quite a bit more efficient. If it wasn't, we wouldn't have enough power here to run it. We'd never have been able to shift it here in the first place if the machine we used to get it here took as much power as yours does."

They spent the next two hours finishing the setup of the machine, with Bechler showing Sue its operation. Once the operator programmed all the innumerable parameters into it, executing the shift was simple. The shift could be started either from the computer console or from within the shifting booth. Bechler explained they'd done this so that it wasn't required to have someone stay behind to execute the shift.

"The main thing that's necessary with this machine is to give it time to stabilize before shifting," Bechler said. "It's a prototype and is different from anything we've ever built. It uses smaller coils in a different type of configuration."

"We talked about that earlier," Sue said.

"Yes, but not in this regard. In testing, before we sent it, we noticed instability in the EM field when shifting. To compensate for this, we set up a low-power bias field then wait for it to stabilize before ramping the power level up. Look here."

Bechler pointed to a graph on the computer screen. The yellow line on the left side of the graph showed spikes from time to time but eventually became smooth.

"Can you see the change in this graph?" Bechler asked. "Once the field stabilizes like this for a few minutes, you're ready to go."

"What happens if you don't?" John asked.

"You're taking a chance of causing any matter in the booth to not shift, or to shift to the wrong universe. It may even cause the matter to oscillate between different universes. I'm not sure though since we never did any testing like that. In any case, you'll get unpredictable results, so just make sure the field stabilizes."

"I understand. Don't worry, though; I don't intend to use this thing any time soon," John said. Shifting to this universe was enough, and he had no desire to use the machine to go to another one.

Bechler smiled. "I don't expect you to use it. I just want both of you to understand its operation in case we need you to act as backup operators for us. I, or one of the other agents, will always be here when it's used."

*****

A loud hiss arose when John emptied the bowl of diced potatoes into the frying pan of smoking hot oil. His hand jerked back as a fine mist of hot grease sprayed from the skillet.

It had been several days since Bechler shifted from the barn, and John had decided it was time to start helping Sue with the domestic chores. While he cracked eggs into another bowl, he thought about Bechler not returning. He was both glad and depressed by this. While he felt a dislike for the man, he also knew the only way to get home and back to his job again was with Bechler's assistance.

"What do you want in the omelet?" John asked as he started to whisk the eggs.

"Ham, cheddar cheese and green pepper," Sue responded with a smile. She sat at the counter sipping coffee, watching him cook.

"We're out of cheddar, but we still have some slices of American left. We'll need to get to the store soon."

John averted his eyes from Sue, not able to look at her piercing gaze. While he was helping with the housework now, he wasn't contributing financially. What man could feel good about that? He was willing, but his lack of identity in this universe meant he had no valid social security number or any other identification required to apply for a job. And, since he was still wanted by the police, he couldn't even leave the house. Although it was almost a prison for him, Sue's house didn't feel like one. It was more like a sanctuary. He was safe and at home here.

"I was thinking of going to the lab later this morning anyway," Sue said. "I can stop at the store on my way back."

He stopped beating the eggs and looked at her. "I know you need to get back to work and make some money, but with what's happening there right now, do you think that's smart?"

She chuckled. "I'm not going there for the money. I don't need that."

"You don't, why not?"

"You're looking at one rich lady."

"Rich? What do you mean?"

"Before my dad went to work at Gladstone, they licensed several patents from him. After that, he never had to work again. He kept working though because he loved developing new products. Those licenses still earn close to a million a year. I wouldn't have to work another day in my life if I didn't want to."

"A million a year?" John said, the pitch of his voice rising. "I had no idea!"

"I know you didn't, that's why I just told you."

"I never would have guessed it," John said, scanning his eyes around. Although he loved Sue's house and it had taken some money to decorate it the way she had, it didn't look like it had taken that kind of wealth. "I mean, this house is nice, but it's no millionaire's mansion."

Sue chuckled. "No, I guess it isn't. My mom loved this house though, and my dad would never even consider selling it or living anywhere else after she was gone."

"And you're staying here too?"

"Yeah, I feel the same way he did."

She was sentimental, and he could appreciate that, even though he didn't have many things to be sentimental about in his life. John turned back to the eggs and began to whisk them again. He heard the hiss of the frying pan change tone and grabbed a spatula to turn the potatoes. While he scraped the bottom of the pan, he thought about what she'd said earlier.

"If it's not because of the money, why are you going back to work?"

"I need to talk to my uncle about everything that's happened. I was hoping not to get him involved until Bechler found out more, but I can't wait anymore."

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea," he said.

"Why not?"

"Well, we know some of the people working for your uncle are involved in this, right?"

"Yeah. So what?" she said, her brow rising.

"He'll start an investigation, right?"

"Exactly."

"What if the people he puts in charge of the investigation are part of this?"

She shook her head. "I'm sure he'd only put people he trusts in charge."

"Well, he trusted this Phil guy, or he wouldn't have brought him into the lab. He's part of it, isn't he? Once they find out what we've seen, they'll come after us. They may even make sure your uncle has an accident just like your dad."

Sue stared into her coffee cup. "Yeah, I see what you mean."

"Once we know who's involved in this thing, _then_ we can go to your uncle." He turned his attention back to the potatoes.

"Well, how are we supposed to find out who's involved?"

"We don't. We let Bechler do it. That's his job."

"Bechler? I thought you didn't trust him?"

John's hand twitched. He didn't notice when a potato cube lurched over the side of the pan and into the burner. He put the spatula down and went back to the eggs.

"Well, it's not that I don't trust him exactly . . ." He couldn't be totally honest with Sue. He just couldn't get the words out to tell her that he feared the conspirators more than he mistrusted Bechler. He shivered at the image of Franz coming after him.

"Then what exactly?"

"I don't know. There's just something about him."

"You said that before."

John said nothing. The scrape of the whisk against the side of the metal bowl was the only thing breaking the silence. Why didn't he trust Bechler? He'd asked himself that question many times, but he didn't have an answer. All he knew was that he got a bad feeling from the agent and he didn't like the way Bechler looked at Sue. It was as though he was trying to impress her with his knowledge and advanced technology. There had to be some ulterior motive. What was it though? Whatever it was, Sue seemed blind to Bechler's manipulation.

Sue creased her forehead. "I can't just sit here and wait for Bechler to come back. What if he never does? We can't even go to him because he never gave us the parameters to shift to his universe. We have to do something."

John continued to look at the whisk while he twirled it around the bowl's perimeter.

"I'm sure he'll be back at some point." He wanted to add "unfortunately" but didn't.

"John, you know what we could do . . ."

Here it came. It was only a matter of time before she brought it up. The pace of his beating increased to the point that the yellow froth was almost splashing over the side of the bowl.

Sue continued to stare into her coffee cup. "We could use the quantum shifter ourselves and find out what's happening in the other universe."

John spun around. He yanked the whisk from the bowl and shook it at her to emphasize his words, a string of egg streaming from it. "Damn it! I knew that's what you were going to say. We can't do it!"

"Why not?" she asked, looking up at him.

"It's too dangerous, that's why. Don't you remember what Bechler told us the last time we stuck our necks out?"

Sue blew out her breath. "Boy, for somebody you don't like, you're sure ready to listen to him, aren't you?"

 "Whether I like him or not isn't the point. He was right."

"What do you expect me to do? Just sit here calmly while the bastards that killed my dad get away with his murder and move forward with their plans?"

"For now, yes."

"I can't and I won't," she declared, her face reddening. "You may be right about waiting to talk to Uncle Bob, but that doesn't mean I'm doing nothing. I'm going to the other universe to find out what's going on, and there's nothing you can do to stop me," she asserted. She plunked her coffee cup on the countertop with a loud clack to punctuate her resolve.

She was doing it again. She knew he wasn't going to let her go alone and was trying to shame him into coming with her. John's face reddened two shades darker than hers. "You're just trying to force me to go with you again, aren't you?"

The scowl on Sue's face dissolved when she rose from the stool and went to him. He gazed into her soft blue eyes, and he could see no deceit. The tears that moistened their surface glistened like a tranquil lake in the morning sun.

"John, I told you before I was sorry I forced you into coming to the lab. I'm not going to do that again. You have to understand though that I just can't sit here when I know what those people did." A tear, blackened by her eyeliner, slid down her left cheek. "They took away the most important person in my life." She swallowed hard. "No, he _was_ my life. I know I'll never get him back, but I'll be damned if I'm just going to let them get away with it."

Even in her apparent moment of weakness, she exuded strength and determination. She wouldn't give in. She possessed the courage to keep fighting until she found the answers. It was admirable, and it was something he lacked. After all, what had he been doing but just sitting back waiting for someone else to fix his problem? She was being shoved around just like he had his whole life, letting others determine his fate. The difference was that she was fighting back.

"I understand," he said. He held her in his arms and comforted her. It was an unusual experience, though. When she tightened her embrace, it was as though she gave more reassurance than she received. His tense muscles eased as he rested his head on hers.

They were in a similar situation. He too had his life taken from him. He didn't know how or why but the conspirators had done this to him as well. There was a difference though. While she would never get her father, or her old life, back, there was still a chance for him. If they could discover the purpose of the conspiracy and how they'd brought him here, he may find a way to return.

He put his hands on her shoulders and drew back so he could look into her eyes. "You know what? You're right. I'm tired of sitting around too. I'm coming with you."

"You don't have to," she said, brushing away the tears.

"I know I don't have to. But I need to. I've done nothing for too long while other people control my fate. I don't know why these people took me away from my life, but I'm going to find out."

*****

John sat watching Sue, his fingers drumming on the work bench. Although he wasn't thrilled at the prospect of shifting to this other, unknown universe, sitting and waiting was worse. He just wanted to get on with it so he could stop imagining all the horrors that awaited them.

It was midmorning, and it had taken Sue a while to re-familiarize herself with the quantum shifter in the barn and work out the necessary conversions to set its controls. She'd set the parameters to shift them to Universe A, but she wasn't sure how to set the power. John was on the side of caution, worried about what they were getting themselves into. Sue was concerned that too much caution would leave them with too little time to look around.

 "Once we've been there the first time," John pointed out. "We'll know where we're materializing. If it's safe, we can always set the machine to stay longer next time."

They compromised on what Sue estimated to be thirty minutes. She engaged the controls, and a low-pitched hum emanated from the coils. They watched the display, like Bechler had instructed, to make sure the power level was stable. When it was, they entered the booth. John's palms were wet and salty with sweat, his throat dry. What would they find at their destination?

"Here goes nothing," he said in a choked voice. His trembling hand reached for the small control panel inside the booth and pressed the large red button.

John and Sue both lurched and nearly fell over from intense nausea that seemed to last for minutes. Then, faintly, as though at a great distance, Sue said, "Damn."

The pressure in his ears eased, his balance returned and he was able to look around for the first time. They were in the narrow space between two buildings. The one in front was made of a crude, salmon-colored brick, and the one behind of a graying wood. A rancid smell of decay assaulted his nose and brought back the nausea, making him gag.

"Can we get out of here?" Sue asked.

John nodded, and they walked to the end of the buildings, their feet sinking into a muck of rotting garbage and feces. It was apparent the building's occupants used the area to dump trash and sewage.

The ground sloped down when they neared the end. John looked back. "Damn, they've dumped so much crap in there it's a good half a foot higher than it should be."

Sue followed in silence. When they got to the end of the structures, they found themselves on a dirt street lined with crude wooden buildings interspersed with some brick. Most were two stories in height with brightly painted façades. Many of the windows had no glass and were open to the outside, several having a heavy fabric stretched across to block out the weather. Although better than the crevice from which they emerged, the stench was still quite strong from animal manure and sewage dumped in the street.

While there was an occasional ox or mule-pulled cart, the majority of the locals were on foot and dressed unlike anything John had ever seen. Both men and women wore one-piece, linen tunics that tapered out at the hips and flowed down to knee length. They were colored with bright wide horizontal stripes on the torso and an unbleached white in the half sleeves. All seemed to be tailored the same, but each had a varying width and color of stripes. There were bright crimsons and blues, dull oranges with glowing saffron and bright greens with rich browns. Some had geometric patterns within the stripes: diamonds, squares, circles and triangles.

"This place seems kind of primitive," Sue said.

Although his stomach was fluttering, John had to admit that there was some excitement in exploring this strange world. While he'd never been one for history, he did watch the occasional documentary on television and had studied it in school. None of the programs he'd ever watched nor had any pictures in his history textbooks had ever shown anything like this. But then again, he was in a different universe than his own, so there may be no analogy.

As they walked farther into the street, some of the passersby were staring at them. They turned their wide brown faces towards them, pointing and whispering, but continued walking. Children, in particular, looked in fascination and the parents had to drag them along while they gawked at the oddly dressed, pale-skinned people.

"We don't seem to be blending in too well," John said.

"No, we aren't. Let's get a look around before we shift back."

John looked up and down the street. To the right, the road continued with the same types of buildings. To the left, it was more interesting. The street ran for at least a half mile then continued up a low hill topped by a building with tall stone columns. It looked like a courthouse or some other type of government building in John's universe.

He pointed. "Let's take a look at that building."

"Yeah. It looks like an old post office or something," she said as they started towards it.

When they came to an intersecting street, John looked up and down it. In both directions, the street curved back towards the hill. As they continued walking, they crossed another street, which curved like the first.

When they came to the third, John said, "It looks like all these cross streets circle the hill." He motioned with his hand. "See how it curves back there and there?"

"Yeah, that building must be the center of the city."

He nodded. "That's what I'm thinking too. It must be an important building."

As they got closer to the hill, the streets changed from dirt to cobblestone, and the buildings became more ornate. All were of brick construction, and most of the façades had a smooth stucco finish.

They were just starting up the slope of the hill when an old man clutched John's arm. He was a starved, skeleton of a man and his cheeks were sunken to the point where he looked like a deflated blow-up doll. A single scrap of material over his right shoulder held up his ragged, grime-smeared tunic, exposing a bony collarbone that rose an inch above his left shoulder.

John recoiled from the poor man's appearance. While he'd seen pictures before, he'd never actually been around someone this starved in person.

The man said, " _Ignosco, vos es unus of novus deus es vos non?_ "

John widened his eyes. He'd taken Latin in college as a language requirement so recognized the old man's words. It had been a few years, but he interpreted it as a question about whether John was one of the new gods.

He answered in the man's language, "No, I am not a god."

Sue asked, "What language is that?"

"Latin."

"What?" she responded, her brow rising.

"You must help me, God," the old man implored in Latin.

John shook his head. "I am not a god. I cannot help you."

"But I am hungry and need food," he pleaded.

A passing man who was well groomed and dressed in a bright orange and yellow tunic came up beside them. He pushed the old man to the ground and said in Latin, "Leave him be you old fool." He looked at John. "Forgive the old beggar, Lord. He knows no better."

 "What's wrong with you! He's an old man," Sue said to the well-groomed man as she knelt and began to examine the beggar for any injuries.

The passerby said to John, "I do not understand her."

"It is all right. The old man is hungry," John said. He took the beggar's hand and helped him to his feet. "I do not have any food to give him. Can you get him some?"

"I, Lord? I can if you wish it."

"I do."

The man raised an eyebrow. "Of course. As you wish."

He took the old man by the hand, and they started to walk away. The old one looked over his bony shoulder. "Thank you, God, I shall worship you always."

Sue turned to John. "What was that all about?"

"They must think we're gods or something."

"Gods? That's crazy! They're more backwards than I thought."

"Apparently so," he said, shaking his head. "Come on, let's keep going. I want to make it to that building before we shift back."

After several more blocks, they were on the other side of the street from the large, columned building. John read the entablature aloud.

"Senatus Secundus Romanorum Domus Imperator." He gasped when the meaning of the words sank in.

"What does it mean?" she asked.

"It's a government building all right." He stammered, "But . . ."

"But what, John? What is it?"

"It's nothing," he declared, seeing her concern. "I just don't believe it. It says it's the Senate Building of the Second Roman Empire."

*****

"This city does look ancient, but we should still be in America," Sue asserted.

"Could we have shifted across the world besides to another universe?"

"I don't think . . ." Sue began. Her eyes widened, and she pointed in the direction of the building. "Look!"

Phil, Franz and another man dressed in a native tunic were descending the steps of the Senate building. Phil was saying something to Franz and pointing at John and Sue. Franz broke away from the others and quickened his pace down the steps in their direction.

"Come on!" John cried, his heart racing at the sight of Franz. "Let's get the hell out of here!"

He clutched Sue's hand with an iron grip and sprinted back in the direction they'd come. When they got to the first cross street, he spotted a crowd down the road to the right. His mind swirled with conflicting thoughts. Which way to go? Continue they way they'd come or go into the crowd? Although only a split second, it seemed minutes to make a decision. It would be better to get lost in the crowd than to see who would win in a footrace. His legs trembling, he yanked Sue around the corner, her feet nearly going airborne.

They ran almost the length of a block before entering the mass of people. Was Franz was still behind them? John shot a glance over his shoulder. The big man was just barreling around the corner. John threw himself forward that much quicker, dragging Sue along. His longer legs gobbled up ground with each huge stride, but her shorter ones were unable to keep up.

The street widened ahead, but the throng of natives thickened when they entered an outdoor marketplace with vendors selling food and other wares. The booths planted in no order, John and Sue weaved back and forth like they were on a slalom course. John pitched left to avoid a woman carrying a large basket, and Sue's hand slipped from his grasp. Sue collided with the basket, throwing it from the woman's arms. Sue stumbled but remained on her feet and began to run at a tangent to John. His momentum had carried him forward and around several people before he realized he was no longer holding her hand.

John slowed his pace and turned his head back and forth. Where was Sue? His six-foot frame towered over the locals who were a head shorter, but she remained unseen behind the wall of people. She was equal in height to those around, and her jet-black hair blended in with them. John's eye caught Franz. His round body was bobbing to and fro to avoid the shoppers, but his menacing glare remained fixed on John.

"Damn it! Sue?" he called, his head turning in every direction.

She was nowhere to be seen, and the din from the surrounding mob drowned out his voice. With Franz gaining ground, concern for Sue evaporated. He ran faster, shoving people out of his way to get through the thicket.

He was gaining distance until coming to a man he couldn't shove aside. He was almost as tall as John but much thicker in girth. The two impacted with a thud, and John careened onto the end of a fishmonger's stand. The merchandise flew into the air as one end of the table catapulted up while John came down on the other. Fish of all sizes rained down on John and the shoppers around him.

The fishmonger, who'd been trimming fish for a customer, waved the large carving knife in his hand and started cursing at John. His face turned dark burgundy as he tugged at his hair with his one hand and sliced through the air with the blade in his other. Although the monger looked threatening wielding the knife, John looked around for Franz. He attempted to stand up but his foot skidded on a fish, and he slammed back to the ground.

As the vendor's verbal assault continued, Franz came to a stop next to them, towering over John. The large man grabbed the wrist of the fishmonger with one hand and snatched the knife from him with his other. The merchant's mouth snapped shut while he backed away, his palms open in a sign of surrender.

Franz turned his attention to John, who was almost on his feet again. Still off balance, Franz shoved him down and pounced on him. John felt his body painfully compressed as the caps of the cobblestones bowled into his back and the stout man pounded onto him. Franz lunged the blade at his chest, and John grappled his knife hand in a futile attempt to stop the thrust. He was able to push it away with the strength of both arms, but when Franz gripped the haft with his free hand too, the tip of the blade dipped back down.

Queasiness overcame John once the steel pulsed into his flesh. Farther it sank, the image of Franz's stubbled face rippling as his vision blurred to a jumbled kaleidoscope of random colors. John's breathing became more labored, his vision darkening. As he faded into unconsciousness, John's arms shot forward into the barren ether.

## CHAPTER 7

Bob Humboldt sat at his massive mahogany desk, pecking away at his computer keyboard. His assistant, Melinda, had typed up his portion of the Congressional report, from his dictation, but he never felt satisfied until he made further edits himself. He was always too free with details when dictating, but once he saw it on paper, he'd alter it to make sure the wording was just so. He only put in the absolute minimum of what Congress needed to know then hinted around at the rest.

He was just starting to reword the summary paragraph when his phone emitted a shrill beep. He finished typing his thought then reached for the answer button.

"Yes," he said, looking back at the computer screen to review his last change.

"Agent McAndrews is here, Director Humboldt," Melinda chirped from the speaker.

"Good. Have him come right in."

"Yes, sir."

Special Agent Lawrence McAndrews opened the door a moment later and sauntered over to one of the two chairs opposite the desk. Bob ignored the man, his focus tuned to the words he was crafting.

"Good morning, Director Humboldt," McAndrews said, sitting down in one of the leather chairs.

"Good morning, Larry." Lifting his eyes from the screen, Bob continued, "What do you have for me?"

"The details on Dr. Manders' death are pretty much finalized. I just wanted to go over them with you before I file my report. I also have more information about Phil to discuss with you."

"All right. Dr. Manders first. Anything new?"

"Not really. Phil acted alone from everything I've been able to gather."

McAndrews pulled a phone from the breast pocket of his sports jacket and reviewed his notes while he spoke. "I was able to clear Bobby with security camera footage at one of the loading docks. He was there between 2:37 and 3:04 a.m. The quantum shifter logs recorded the first breaker to the high-voltage supply tripped at 2:49 a.m. and the second at 2:52."

"So Bobby couldn't have been in the lab when Dr. Manders was electrocuted," Bob said, his fingers drumming one of the tall stacks of papers on the desk. "And Franz was in London that week, so he's clear. What about any of the technicians and programmers?"

"I've checked out everyone on our payroll and Gladstone's. They're all clean as far as I can tell."

This was ridiculous! Week after week they kept going over the same ground repeatedly. Bob just wanted to know if this was all Phil's doing or if there were others involved.

"What else?" Bob grumbled.

"Phil is still sticking to the story that he found Dr. Manders in the lab already dead with another man over his body. He claims there was some type of handheld computer connected to the quantum shifter and that this guy was downloading information from it. He said there was a struggle with the intruder and that he pushed him into an electrical panel." McAndrews shook his head. "When security found Dr. Manders, there was no evidence of anyone else being there or of the computer Phil claimed the information was being downloaded to. There's only one odd thing I haven't been able to figure out."

"What's that?"

"The fact that two different high-voltage cabinets were opened and two different breakers were tripped."

 "We've been all through this before, and it doesn't mean anything! The only reason he's saying there was someone else there is to cover his ass for killing Manny. He must have found out what Phil is up to and was murdered for it."

McAndrews shifted around in his seat, "I know that Dr. Manders was a friend of yours, sir, but we do need to look into all the possibilities. One is that there may have been someone else there."

"Oh, bullshit!" Bob roared. He felt his blood boiling. He looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. He had to calm down. It wasn't good for his blood pressure.

He blew out his breath. "I'm sorry, Larry. I didn't mean to take it out on you. Yes, Manny was a good friend of mine, and that alone would make me mad enough to kill that bastard, Phil. But it's more than that, and you know it. His shenanigans have also jeopardized this project, and you know the importance of what we're doing here as well as I do."

"Yes, sir, I do."

"Hell, Larry, if you hadn't been so tied up with that investigation of the Chinese, I would've put you on this project from the get-go. I couldn't, so Phil was the next logical choice. Ever since, I've trusted him less and less. Now after he killed Manny, I can't stand the son of a bitch."

"I know you wanted me to check him out because of Dr. Manders' death, but were there specific reasons you started to distrust him before that?"

"Nothing I can put my finger on. He never seemed to be leveling with me, and once I caught him in an outright lie. He shrugged it off as a misunderstanding though. I was just biding my time with him until you got freed up."

A musical chime blurted from the computer speaker, and Bob shifted his attention to his workstation. It was a reminder to take his medication. He pulled a pill organizer from his top left drawer and started removing the necessary tablets from the small compartment. He glared at all the medication he'd started taking in the last few months. It had been one tragedy after another, and it had caused his body to decline. He felt at least twenty years older than he was.

McAndrews continued, "I see. Well, I think your distrust may be justified, even beyond the murder of Dr. Manders."

Bob put a small yellow tablet into his mouth and took a sip of water before saying, "Why, did you find something out?"

"Yeah, it seems like he's been spending some money: new car, new vacation cabin upstate. All cash purchases too."

Bob nodded his head while he swallowed a massive white caplet. "I knew he was up to something! Manny must have discovered something, and Phil killed him for it."

"That's a possibility."

"I'd say it's a certainty," growled Bob. He'd been in this business too long not to trust his instincts. Phil was crooked and had murdered Manny. He just needed to find out why. "Any leads on where he got the money?"

"I'm still looking into that."

"Yeah, well, I can guess he's using his position in some unauthorized manner. You need to find out who's paying him and for what."

"Don't worry, sir, I will," McAndrews said. "For now though, I just want to let him run free, so he doesn't suspect anything. We need to give him enough rope to hang himself."

"I'm all for that," Bob said. Phil was so damn arrogant, and that's what would lead to his downfall. He'd think he was smarter than McAndrews and trip himself up.

"I'd like to go ahead and file the final report on Dr. Manders though," McAndrews said. "That way I can get that wrapped up so I can concentrate on the investigation of Phil."

"That's fine. I'd like to review it before you file it though."

 "I assume you still want me to say the cause of death was accidental?"

"Yeah, that's the way it's got to be." Bob folded his hands together on the desk and stared at them for a moment. "I'd like nothing more than to see Phil fry for what he did to Manny. I can't let my feelings interfere with the project though. Congress is already talking about budget cuts, so we can't afford the bad publicity. If there were even a hint that it was anything other than a mere accident, it would force an outside investigation and shut down the project for months. We can't have it. Besides, if we implicate Phil in a homicide, we'd be taking away the other noose you're tying for him."

*****

A blurred face hovered over John while the sparkle of fireworks faded from his vision. He grasped at his head, which felt like a balloon on the verge of popping. He said in a hoarse voice, "Sue?"

"It's me, John." She stroked his hair. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I think so."

He roamed his eyes over the surroundings. He was lying on the floor of the shifting booth. He was back. But from where? His mind was still hazy.

"You had me scared. I thought Franz killed you," Sue said, her voice quivering.

"Killed me?"

It took a second, but then his mind snapped back, and the memory rushed in. He groped around for the blood-soaked gash from Franz's knife but found nothing except a small pick in the material of his shirt. He attempted to raise his head for a look but thudded it back to the floor when a blast of pain and nausea hit again.

"Just lay there for a minute," Sue said as she caressed his cheek. "You may have a concussion."

"A concussion?"

"Yeah, you hit your head on that cobblestone pretty hard a couple of times."

"All I remember is the knife."

"You were so pumped with adrenaline that you didn't feel anything. You just focused on holding the knife back."

After several more minutes, his head cleared further and Sue helped him to his feet. He held on to her for support while they went into the house and he sat in his favorite living room chair. His head was still throbbing when she brought him a cup of chai. Its spicy warmth flowed into him, easing the last spasms of nausea and clearing the dullness in his head.

"Feeling better?" Sue asked.

"Yes, much."

"Good. What did you make of that place?"

"I don't know. It was very odd. By that building, we were in some type of Roman province, but you said we shouldn't be shifted geographically."

"From what we know, we weren't," she said. "But then again, we still know very little about shifting to parallel universes."

"If we assume we didn't, it means in that universe, the Roman Empire spread onto the North American continent," he said.

"Given that they're still around in the 21st century, I'd say it's very probable they would've spread that far."

"I suppose." He pondered this for a moment then said, "That would explain why the inhabitants looked more Native-American than European." He put his empty teacup on the table. "Well, now we know where the conspirators are going, but we still don't know why they're shifting guns there."

"The only way to find out is to go there again."

John shivered. He'd come closer to death than in the shifting lab, and now the conspirators knew someone was following them. Would they be waiting for them next time? Did they know who was following them?

He had a sickening thought and blurted out, "Sue, you said you met Phil several months ago at the lab. Do you think he recognized you today?"

"Damn, I didn't think about that." She looked off in thought for a moment then shook her head. "No, I doubt it. We were pretty far from them, so I don't think he got a good look. Besides, we only met one time, and that was months ago."

"Yeah, but you recognized him the day we spied on them at the lab."

"I know, but it took me a while to place him, and he looked and dressed pretty much the same as when I met him. I don't." She waved her hand over herself. "My hair is pulled back today, and I'm dressed pretty ratty," she said, plucking at her shirt.

John looked at her light blue T-shirt and jeans and smiled at her modesty. He'd only seen her dressed up and made up in the pictures on her office wall, but she had looked different. He nodded. "You're right. He couldn't have gotten that good of a look." He paused for a second then said, "That brings up a good point though. It was the clothes we were wearing that made them come after us. I don't think we can take a chance like that again though. When we go back, we'll need to disguise ourselves."

She snickered. "Should we get some of those black glasses with the plastic noses on them?"

 "I'm serious."

"I'm sorry," she said, puckering her lips to hold back a smile.

"The next time we shift back to the other universe, we'll need to buy some clothes at that market we were in, ones like the locals wear so we can blend in better. We can bring some things from here to trade with one of the vendors."

 "Good idea. I've got some old junk jewelry upstairs we can use."

"Great. The only other problem we have is we'll need to find somewhere to stash the clothes once we buy them."

"What do you mean?"

"When we shift back here, they won't shift back with us." If they were bought in the other universe, the clothes would stay locked in that universe and wouldn't shift back with them. "We'll need to have somewhere in that universe to hide them."

"I see what you mean." She thought for a moment before saying, "There is something we can try."

"What?"

"Back when we did a couple of initial surveys of parallel universes, we shifted regular video cameras that were set to record. When they came back, we'd watch what they recorded. Two that came back were pretty interesting."

"What did you see?"

"It wasn't so much what we saw on the recordings as what happened to the cameras. The first was a recording of a desert landscape in the middle of a dust storm. The other time, the camera came back damaged after only recording a few minutes. It was caught in a heavy thunderstorm."

"That's not so odd. You said something happened to the cameras though?"

 "When we pulled the memory card from the camera that had been to the desert, grains of sand came out. The one from the thunderstorm had water pour out when we opened it up."

"Hmm, that is interesting. So, some of the matter from the other universe came back with the cameras."

"Yep, but not permanently. After a few minutes, the sand and water both shifted back."

"How is that possible?"

Sue turned on the couch, so her body was facing him, the remaining tea nearly sloshing over the side of the cup. John could see she was getting that same glow of excitement he'd seen when she was talking to Bechler about the quantum shifter data. Her eyes sparkled when she said, "Because the matter from the other universe surrounded the matter from our universe, it pulled the other back with it. It's kind of like what I'd told you about not shifting all the matter in a mass to the other universe. If we only shift the outer portion, it sort of pulls the rest through the gateway.

"Once we open that door, other energy or matter can be pulled through either way. That's what we're after in generating power through shifting. Do you remember seeing a faint flash of light when Bechler shifted back both times?"

"Yeah."

"That happened because when he shifted back to his universe, some energy leaked back into ours."

He nodded. "Okay, but why don't we see that when something is shifted out with one of the machines then?"

The glow increased as her index finger came up and waved towards the ceiling. "Ah, remember the quantum shifter coils are absorbing the energy pushed back from the other universe. The thing is, we haven't found a way to hold the gateway open long enough to keep pulling the energy back through. You see, just because we open the door at a certain point, it doesn't mean the energy will flow back at that same point in space-time. It can happen anywhere that the two universes are interacting with each other, like in the huge gravity wells of black holes. If we can find a way to keep the door open, the transfer should happen there, because it will be the path of least resistance. Once we find a way, we'll have the unlimited energy source we're looking to tap."

 "So if that's what you were after when creating the quantum shifter, why did you make it so big? You told me that shifting a gram of material would give back enough energy to power a city. The machine you have in the lab can transfer tons of matter."

"We built it after we found the other universes with the small-scale testing. One of the other physicists on the project, Dr. Philips, was convinced that if we transferred larger masses to the other universe, it would cause a greater force to re-achieve balance between the universes. Therefore, it would be easier to capture the energy. While Dad and I agreed it made sense, we wanted to continue with the smaller scale testing first. We built the larger machine only after Philips had got Uncle Bob on his side."

John took a deep breath, "This is all interesting, but I still don't see how we get the clothes to come back with us."

"We never studied the phenomenon to see what's possible, but we should be able to shift a box to the other universe with us. We put the clothes we buy there in it. When we shift back to this universe, the clothes should come back with us." She grinned.

"But you said the water and sand that came back in the cameras shifted back to their own universes after a few minutes." He shook his head. "That won't help us."

"Sure, but what if once the clothes are here, we use the quantum shifter to set the quantum state of their matter permanently to this universe?"

John leaned forward in the chair. "That's possible?"

"Like I said, I've never done it before, but it should work."

"Let's hope that it does."

*****

They shifted back to Universe A the next day. Sue took some cheap trinkets from her jewelry box, hoping they could use them for bargaining. John brought some kitchen knives and matches in case the locals would be more impressed with these. They shifted the barter items first and set the controls to keep them at the destination permanently. This way they wouldn't cheat the purchasing party by having their merchandise vanish after a few hours. Then they shifted themselves, along with a heavy box; this time setting the power level higher than on their first excursion so they'd remain longer.

When his head cleared from the shift, John looked around. They'd materialized in the same sewage-encrusted crevice between buildings. Sue picked up the bag of items to trade. They'd put them in a plastic bag before shifting so they wouldn't get full of the muck. John opened the box he was holding and let her put the items inside.

They walked onto the familiar street and headed towards the market, trudging through the muddy streets. Although it caused sluggish travel, a recent rainfall had washed some of the filth away and made the odor more manageable. The streets were less crowded, and they quickly got to the market.

"That stand over there has clothes." Sue pointed, leading the way. She walked under the canopy and rifled through piles of garments splayed out on the shelves, pulling one off the stack to hold up to herself.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"Very chic. That turquoise stripe gives a nice highlight to your eyes," he quipped.

"Okay, okay. I know it won't be the most beautiful thing in my closet, but I'm not going to get one of these crappy brown ones," she said, picking it up and throwing it to a different stack. She grabbed another and cracked, "Or how about this lovely yellow number? I'd look like a school bus in it."

John chuckled. "I don't know about the school bus, but I suspect you'd look good in a potato sack." He felt his face flush a bit when he said this but was glad he did.

Her eyes rolled up. "Yeah, right. It's sweet of you to say though."

"It's true." He put the box down and pulled one of the tunics off the pile. He held it up to himself. "This damn thing will look like a miniskirt on me."

Sue laughed. "Just make sure you put on underwear, or everyone will get quite a view if you drop something. These look bigger over here." She grabbed a tunic from another stack and gave it to him.

John held it up. "That's better, but it's still kind of small."

"I doubt we'll find anything in your size. You're quite a bit bigger than most of the locals we've seen."

"All right. I'll just get this one then."

Sue scrunched her face. "You've got to be kidding." She snatched it from him. "There's no way I'm going to let you walk around in something like this." She pulled a different color and pattern from the pile. "Here, see how this fits."

"What's the difference? They're all goofy looking."

"Yeah, but some more than others. Just hold it up."

With the selections made, John pulled one of the knives from the box. He held it out for the vendor and said in Latin, "We'll take these two."

The clothier's eyes bulged when he took the knife and examined the edge. Although a simple steak knife from Sue's kitchen, its stainless steel blade was no doubt like nothing he'd ever seen before. Like John suspected, stainless, chrome and aluminum would be as foreign to them as computers and television.

"Yes, yes, of course, Lord. They are yours," the stand owner said, with a grin.

Why didn't the merchant haggle over the price? Since the negotiation had already ended, his payment must have been too generous. He'd blown it again! He glanced at Sue, hoping she hadn't noticed his mistake. Next time he'd buy extra tunics and use them as barter for other items.

They moved on and soon came to a shop for footwear. It wasn't a street booth but a building storefront. After entering, it was apparent the choice was limited: several styles of sandals or bulky leather shoes. The latter were wrapped around the bottom of the foot with laces along the top from the toes to the lower ankle securing it.

Sue picked up a pair of the shoes. "Oh good, we have two options: crappy or ugly."

"You're just spoiled, young lady," John laughed. "You can't expect a primitive society like this to compete with an industrialized one like ours."

She nodded. "You're right. I'm sure they feel fortunate to have the selections they do."

No matter, John agreed that the shoes were ugly looking. They also looked uncomfortable. He picked up the sandals and addressed the shop owner. "Can we have a pair of these in each of our sizes?"

"Yes, Lord," the cobbler said.

He knelt beside them and measured their feet with a tape. He wrote some notations on what looked to be a sheet of vellum, which was almost black from writing scribbled on every corner of the page.

"I can have both pairs made by the next Day of Saturn."

"How many days is that?"

"Five, Lord."

"Five days? Why so long?"

"I will need time to make them for you."

"We cannot wait that long. I need the shoes today."

The cobbler's eyes widened, and he shook his head. "I am sorry, Lord. I cannot make them that fast, and I have other customers already waiting."

"Damn," John said, looking back to Sue.

"What did he say?" she asked.

"He can't get them to us for five days because he has to custom-make them. I never thought about that." Again he was showing his ignorance. "Shit!"

The cobbler cowered. "I am sorry, Lord. I know you are powerful gods, and I did not mean to anger you. I will start immediately and work all night to have them ready tomorrow."

What was going on that these people thought they were gods? He and Sue were different from them, but to make the jump to calling them gods was absurd.

He forced a smile on his face. "That is alright. I am not angry with you. I was hoping you had some already made that we could buy."

"I am sorry, Lord. I am not powerful like you so did not know you would be coming."

John looked around the shop and saw shelves with other shoes on them. He asked, "What about those over there? Can I buy them?"

"Oh no, Lord. Those were made for other customers and would not be the ideal fit for you."

"That does not matter," he said, walking towards the closest shelf. "They do not have to be perfect. As long as they are close."

John grabbed a larger pair and sat on a low bench. He put the sandals on his feet and walked around. They were a little smaller than he'd like but were serviceable. He went back to the shelf and picked out a pair for Sue. They fit well, so John pulled another steak knife from the box and gave it to the cobbler. By the man's reaction, it was more than enough payment for the merchandise; however, this time it was alright. The cobbler would have some angry customers who wouldn't get their sandals when promised, and the knife should more than compensate him for this.

The last stop was to buy John a hat. Although Sue's dark hair blended in with the locals, his didn't. With his tall stature and light brown hair, he stuck out like the beacon of a lighthouse. While there was no way to make him shorter, they could cover his head with a coif like the ones the local men wore. A hood-like affair that would cover his hair, it had a strap that wrapped around his chin to secure it to his head.

Instead of paying with a knife this time, John paid with a bundle of matches. At first, the merchant balked at the little wooden sticks with red and white tips. His demeanor changed though when John struck one, and it flared to life. The trader bounced up and down like a child when John let him strike one himself, swishing the flaming stick around with a big grin. He accepted some in exchange for the hat with glee.

As they walked off, John shifted his eyes around. People were staring and pointing at the two of them. The last thing he wanted was to have a crowd of people flocking to him and drawing even more attention. While they gaped because they thought he was a god, he couldn't get over his usual discomfort when people stared. It was too much like when he was a child and the bullies beat him up. His classmates would stand and stare at him afterward. It was a moment of weakness for him, and everyone saw it. Ever since, he didn't like being the center of attention.

When they neared the market entrance, they came across the old beggar from the previous day. He bowed to John.

"I worship you, God, and thank you for your generosity yesterday. I do not wish to test my fortune, but it is another day, and I have not yet eaten."

John pulled out a dozen matches and handed them to the old man. "You should be able to trade these for food."

The beggar was befuddled until John showed him how to light them. He said, "You have given me a wonderful power with these fire sticks. I worship your greatness."

"Tell me, old one, what is your name?"

"I am called Cassius," said the beggar, giving a half bow.

"I am curious, why do you think I am a god?"

"You must be to have a power such as this," he said, holding up the matches.

John shook his head. "No. That is not why you think this. You called me a god when you first saw me yesterday. Why?"

"You look like the other gods that have recently come, so you must be one as well."

"The other gods?" The beggar must be referring to the conspirators, but John needed to confirm it.

"Yes, the ones who have crossbow stocks that spit darts and stones which make thunder and smoke."

The crossbow stocks had to be the rifles, which confirmed it was the conspirators the man was referring to. Stones that make thunder and smoke? Were the conspirators also selling them hand grenades? He'd need to find out more about this.

"Have you seen these other gods then?"

"Oh yes, I see them walking about the city with Placidia and Legatus Ocella."

John had studied several websites the night before to brush up on his Roman history and had come across the term of Legatus in his reading. This was the highest rank in a Roman legion and was equivalent to a modern-day general.

"Who is Placidia? A legatus?"

"No. Julian Placidia is the consul."

"Have you seen these weapons they have brought?"

Cassius shook his head. "No, but I have been told about them and have heard the thunder when they train the legionnaires outside the city."

"I see. How many of the gods have you seen, besides us of course?"

Cassius put a hand to his chin and thought for a moment. "Most times there are two or three gods together, but sometimes only one."

Sue caught John's eye and asked what they were talking about.

John turned to her. "Hold on a second. He's telling me about the conspirators and the guns." He turned back to Cassius and asked, "How long have these gods been coming here?"

"I could not say for sure." He looked towards the sky like he was trying to read the answer there. "I first heard of them maybe three moons ago." He lowered his head back towards John. "Yes, that would be about right. It was not long after that I started to see them myself."

"So when you saw them, were they always with this Placidia you spoke of?"

"Oh yes. You do not think a man such as Placidia would allow anyone else to mingle with the gods, would you?"

"I do not know this Placidia."

"Ahhh, you have just come from the heavens and know nothing of this world. You have been kind to me and given me a great gift, so I must explain to you."

The old man looked around and motioned for John to follow him. After leading them to the space between two buildings, he again shot his head back and forth to make sure no one was listening. He said in a low voice, "Placidia is an evil man and is not to be trusted. He has tortured and killed many to keep control of the empire. I fear that with these gods to help him, he will be bold enough to kill the emperor and claim the throne as his own."

Cassius explained to John that an emperor had ruled for centuries since splitting from the old empire across the ocean. In addition to the emperor, a group of magistrates and the Senate also held power. While, historically, the senate elected the emperor, the previous ruler, Lucius I, had changed this. He gained power by leading his army in a victory against several nomadic tribes threatening them from the west. He'd further increased the size of the empire through marriage to Princess Galla, the daughter of a rival king to the south. Because of this expansion, the old emperor had gained the support of the people to appoint his successor rather than the Senate doing so.

Before the old emperor died, he appointed his son from the marriage to Galla, Lucius II, as his successor. Because he was a young boy at the time, his older half-brother, Julian Placidia, became regent until Lucius came of age. At first, Placidia was able to control Lucius because of his youth. Once Lucius got older, he did so through intimidation. While Placidia could never kill the emperor to gain the throne, he was able to keep him in check by his palace guard holding the empress and his children as hostages.

During this same time, Placidia also appointed himself the sole consul. This was the elected position that ruled the old Roman Republic before it became an empire. This made him the top magistrate and allowed him to preside over the Senate. The Senate had always elected the position of consul for one year. Placidia, however, made it a lifetime appointment. He expanded its powers and killed off political rivals to secure his position. By controlling the Senate and emperor both, he was in effect the absolute ruler of the empire.

John told Sue what he learned from Cassius so far. She said, "For an old beggar, he seems to know a lot."

"Yes, he does." John's brow creased as he turned to Cassius. "How is it that you know all this about Placidia and the emperor?"

"Me? I once was a trusted one. I was a palace guard."

"What happened to cause this?" he asked, waving his hand at Cassius, top to bottom.

"Ahhh, this," the old man chuckled. "Yes, I have seen hard times these two years. When I was suspected of being loyal to the emperor instead of Placidia, I was discharged from the guard."

"Could you not find other work?"

The old man shook his head and chuckled again. "No. I can see you do not know the way of this world. When stripped of my position, I became an outcast." He became serious as he held out his right hand to John. On the back of it was the brand of a large 'X' burned into his skin. "With this mark, people will hardly look at me, let alone give me work."

John flinched at the sight of the burn. The beggar must have suffered excruciating pain when it was done. How could someone be heartless enough to perform such an act? But then again, a society that could condone it was just as cold-blooded. He shook his head. "That is terrible. I am sorry for your plight."

"I am forced to live on the charity of others. I exist to make others feel generous. 'Poor old beggar,' they say. 'The children and commoners ridicule and spit on him, but I am more noble than they. I will give him food to eat.' That is what they say to ease their conscience."

After John had translated the man's words for Sue, she said, "That's awful. How can people be so cruel?" She opened the box John was still holding and pulled a string of fake pearls out. She held them out to Cassius. "Here. Tell him to take these and sell them."

When John translated what she said, Cassius threw his hands back and shook his head. "I cannot take them. I will be accused of stealing them and will be thrown into prison."

"Why would someone accuse you of that?" John asked.

Cassius tilted his head. "Come now, if a dirty old beggar came to you and said he would sell you such a treasure, would you question it?"

"I see what you mean." John thought for a moment then said, "What if we were to clean you up and make you look like a noble, what then?"

Cassius trembled, looking back and forth between John and Sue. "You would do this for me, God?" he gasped. "But why?"

"You have given me valuable information, and I think you can give me more. In return for this, I wish to pay you."

"Anything you ask of me. You are truly the greatest of gods to help a poor beggar like me. Thank you, thank you."

Cassius fell to his knees and bowed to John, who pulled him to his feet. "I am no god."

"You are too modest. You are a great god. The greatest of all."

John shook his head as he swallowed hard. There was something unnerving about others thinking you were a god. Besides making him the center of attention, it would also cause others to give him higher scrutiny. After all, wasn't a god supposed to be perfect? Wouldn't people examine you more closely for any flaws; a chink in the armor? That he was imperfect was a certainty, and being under such a microscope in the past had always meant pain for John.

He said, "First, I want you to point out this Placidia to me. I would like to speak with him."

"Of course, God, of course."

They went to the Senate building and stood across the street, this time concealed in the shadows between two buildings. John wanted to talk to this Placidia but not if Phil, Bobby or Franz were around. While they waited, he looked farther between the buildings and noted the lack of trash and sludge. In fact, this part of the city was much cleaner and didn't smell of sewage. He wondered if there might be some form of plumbing in the wealthier sections of town.

Sue asked, "Once you see who this guy is, what then?"

"I want to talk to him."

"Don't you think we should change first?" She looked down at her clothes.

John shook his head. "No, I want to make sure he knows we're not from here. These people think we're gods or something, so I want to make sure Placidia thinks so too."

"Do you think he'll tell us what this is all about?"

"He probably doesn't know everything, but I'm sure he can tell us something."

"Well, he better hurry. We're running out of time," she said, looking at her watch. "We have less than an hour before we shift back."

"If we can't see him this time, we'll keep coming back until . . ."

"There he is, Lord," Cassius interrupted.

John swung his head in the direction the old man was pointing and said to Sue, "He's coming."

Once Placidia was closer, John recognized him as the man with Phil and Franz the day before. Luckily, they weren't with him today.

John said to Cassius, "Stay here until I start talking to him, and then you leave. I want you to follow Placidia around as much as you can in the coming days. I need to find out who he is meeting and what their names are."

"Yes, Lord, I will do as you say. When will I see you again?"

"Go every day around this time and wait at the entrance to the market. We will meet you there when we need you again." He pulled the carton of matches from his pocket and handed them to Cassius. "You can use these to trade for food until then."

John turned to Sue. "You may as well stay here. Since you don't speak Latin, you won't understand a thing we're saying."

Sue looked reluctant to stay behind, a scowl coming to her face. "Well, I suppose you're right. I'll stay."

John rushed across the street while Placidia started to ascend the stairs. "Pardon, sir," called John.

Placidia turned at the voice, raising an eyebrow. "Well, what have we here?" He came back down the steps and stopped next to John.

"I wish to speak with you for a moment," John said.

"Yes, of course. Of course," replied Placidia, with a toothy smile.

"You are Julian Placidia, are you not?"

Placidia nodded. "You are correct. Are you not the tall man that my friends were chasing after yesterday?"

"Yes, I am. I think I surprised them by being here. They did not know I have a power equal to theirs."

"I see. They have many mysterious powers that I do not understand. It appears they are not all powerful though if they did not know of you," he said, with a chuckle.

"No, they are not all powerful gods."

"Gods?" Placidia snorted. "No, that they are not. They are men of great power, but they are men."

John raised his brow. It seemed this man wasn't as naïve as the other locals. Since Placidia wouldn't accept that he was a god, he'd have to try a different tactic. He wasn't sure what that was, but he'd have to think fast if he hoped to get any information from the consul.

"I am glad you realize this," John said. "It will make it easier for me to work with you."

"Work with me? In what manner?"

Still unsure of the exact approach to take, John stalled by asking, "Is there somewhere else we can go to discuss this?"

"Yes, of course. Come with me," said Placidia, starting up the stairs again. "The Senate will convene soon, but I have time to talk with you first."

Placidia led them into the grand building. The entrance hall was cavernous and decorated with ceiling murals and gold-threaded tapestries on the walls. They ascended a marble interior stairway that opened onto another large hall filled with senators and their subordinates milling around. Many of them called greetings to Placidia, which he acknowledged but continued walking past. Along the walls were various doors, and Placidia led them through one into a private lounge with chairs, benches and a table. On the table were pitchers and goblets on one end and plates of fruit and cheese on the other.

"Would you care for some wine, my friend?" Placidia asked.

"Yes, thank you," John said, his mind racing to finalize the strategy he would take. The only thing he could think of was to bluff Placidia in some manner. But with what? His mind spun for several more moments before he locked onto an idea. Weapons like the conspirators were selling! There was no way for him to supply Placidia with automatic rifles, even if he wanted to, but he'd deceive him and say that he could to get information.

Placidia handed John a goblet of wine. "Here you are . . . I am sorry. I do not believe you have told me your name."

John accepted the wine, his stomach more at ease now that he had the outline of a plan in his mind. "Thank you. My apologies to you. My name is John Fuller."

"You are welcome, John Fuller. Now, what was this business you wished to speak of?"

"I know of the weapons you received from the others that visit here. I am hoping to work out a similar arrangement with you." John took a deep breath, his face warming from the lie. If his bluff backfired, his life was at stake. Regardless, he was committed now and couldn't back down.

"I see. That is very interesting," said Placidia. He sat in one of the chairs and motioned to one for John to sit in. He brought the goblet to his lips and slurped at the wine, gesturing for John to drink.

John took a sip and had to keep his face from puckering as the bitterness burned on his tongue. It was most likely made from local grapes of inferior quality, but he smiled nonetheless when he lowered his glass. He said nothing and waited for Placidia to continue.

"So, my friend, John, what makes you believe we are receiving weapons from our mutual acquaintances?"

Even though he was trembling, John eased back in an attempt to look calm. He continued playing the game. "I have seen the wood cases being transported, and your citizens speak of the thunder they hear outside the city. I was told tales of crossbows which spit many darts and rocks which explode when thrown."

Placidia chuckled. "Yes. You are correct, of course. We have been purchasing these weapons but what of it?"

John suppressed a grin. This was the first slip Placidia made. He just confirmed John's suspicion that they were buying the weapons. For what purpose, and how much money was changing hands, he still needed to learn. He tried to keep his manner relaxed as he said, "I wish to sell some myself. Did you believe they were the only ones who could do this?"

"Well, until today, yes," said Placidia. He rose, took a piece of cheese from the table and popped it into his mouth. Again John remained quiet and waited for Placidia to make the next move. It wouldn't be good to seem too anxious. Hopefully, the more he stayed silent, the more Placidia would reveal on his own as he questioned John.

"Would you care for food?" asked Placidia, motioning towards the table.

"Thank you, no," John replied, crossing one leg over the other and taking another small sip of the wine. The glass was shaking in his hand, but with any luck, Placidia didn't see it.

When John said nothing more, Placidia came back and sat in the chair again. He broke the silence. "How many of the rifles would you be able to sell us?"

Again John wanted to pull information from the man so asked, "How many do you need?"

"I have a legion of ten thousand I wish to supply with these weapons."

"I see. And the others have not been able to provide you with them?"

"No, they have not. They have been slow to deliver them, and I wish to get them as quickly as possible."

Placidia seemed irritated at the pace he was getting the guns. Maybe John could use this to his advantage. "I would have no problem getting the rifles to you as fast as you like, but I need to know how many you still need."

"I would need nine thousand more, and enough of the bullets to go with them."

Nine thousand more! That would mean the conspirators had already shifted a thousand guns to Placidia. John relaxed into the chair a bit. His bluff seemed to be working better than he'd hoped.

"Hmmm," John looked towards the ceiling for a moment, straining to keep up his calm facade. He looked back at Placidia and nodded. "I would be able to get that number for you. It would take at least a week or two to transport them, though."

Placidia smiled. "That is more like it. The others said it would take several more months." The smile left his face. "Tell me though, would these weapons be the same as what we have been getting?"

"If that is what you wish. However, I can get you more powerful ones as well."

Placidia raised his eyebrow. "More powerful? You interest me. Tell me more about them."

Now, he had the man. Placidia's eyes were glistening with the hunger for even greater power than what he already had. It was just a question of whether the promise of delivering more potent weapons than the conspirators had would loosen Placidia's tongue.

What should he offer the consul to get him excited? What was more powerful than automatic rifles and hand grenades? A few options came to mind: bazookas, flame throwers and mortars. Which should he offer? It would have to be something Placidia could relate to. A mortar seemed the best option. Its shells exploded like the hand grenades they were already getting but at a longer distance.

John continued, "You are familiar with the rocks which explode when thrown. I can get you a device which can throw them a hundred times farther than your strongest man and powerful enough to destroy a building in a single shot."

Placidia shook his head, "We have tried to put the rocks on a catapult, but they explode in the air before reaching the target."

"The weapon I have will not explode in the air but will only do so when they hit the ground."

Placidia sat forward in his chair. "Most interesting. How much would these weapons cost me?"

Placidia was excited about the mortar, but he was smart enough not to let too much information out. John would have to trick him.

"I would be able to sell you the boxes of rifles for half the cost that the others have been selling them for."

Placidia grinned, "A half gold bar? Why so cheap?"

This was probably a lie so that Placidia could get the price down further. John snorted. "Come now; you know you have been paying more than that. I will sell them to you for one gold bar each."

The corner of Placidia's mouth turned up. "We will not haggle over these. I am more interested in the other weapon you speak of."

John smiled back. He'd been right about the consul's deception. His hasty plan was actually reaping information! He leaned back in the chair and took a relaxed sip of wine before continuing. "They will cost much more than the rifles. Before I set a price, though, I would like to demonstrate one to you so you can see its worth for yourself."

"I agree with you, John," Placidia said as he grinned. "I would like to see if it is as you say. When can you bring this weapon to show me?"

John stood. It was time to end the meeting. "It will be several days before I can arrange to get one here. I will contact you again to set a time."

"Very good. I am here at the Senate building almost every day at this time," said Placidia when he rose. "Come see me as soon as you can."

The two men shook hands, and they walked from the room. When they exited, two senators walked up to Placidia and started a conversation. John walked through the hall at a brisk pace, nodding to the dignitaries as he passed them. He was vulnerable in this place and wanted to leave as fast as possible without arousing suspicion. If his bluff hadn't worked, Placidia would have guards surrounding him at any moment. He was only able to breathe easier once he was outside and walking down the steps of the Senate building. He rejoined Sue but carried on walking to get some distance between them and the Senate. They'd walked for a block when Sue asked him to describe what had happened.

"It's what I suspected. Phil and company are selling them the guns for gold bars."

Sue came to a jerking halt. "For gold?" she roared. "That's what this is all about? Those greedy bastards killed my dad so they could make money?"

"I'm afraid so. They've sold them about a thousand guns so far and plan on getting them nine thousand more in the next few months. I don't know what they plan on using the weapons for here, but it seems pretty clear that for the conspirators, it's about money."

"Son of a bitch!" Sue clenched and unclenched her fists, pacing back and forth while she did so. She started to stomp back towards the Senate building. "I'll kill them!"

John hurried after and grabbed her. He spun her around. "Where are you going? We don't even know where they are right now."

"I don't care. I'll kill them as soon as I see them."

"Come on, Sue, calm down. We'll get them but not right now. We still need more information."

She looked up at John with her magnificent blue eyes, and the anger melted from them. Tears streamed down her face as she began to sob.

"I know, but I hate them." She began to cry harder. Her body fell into his arms, and she began to shudder while she spoke in short gasps. "John . . . we . . . have to . . . get them . . . Promise . . . me . . . we will."

He rubbed his hand across her back. "Shhhh . . . Shhhhh. We'll get them. Don't worry."

At his words, her trembling stopped, and her breathing steadied. When she hugged him tighter, the electricity he'd felt before returned. The warm feel of her body next to his made him quiver with excitement.

Her hold eased, and she leaned back to look up at him. "Thank you, John."

His heart fluttered as he gazed into her eyes and the tingling from her contact intensified. A warm buzz engulfed his whole body, and he lost any hesitation he'd ever felt before. He was lowering his head to bring his lips to hers when the sudden and complete nausea hit. The last sight he had before the kaleidoscope of colors blinded his vision was the calm azure of Sue's eyes.

*****

As the nausea subsided, Sue clutched her ballooning head with both hands. She'd hoped that the ill effects of the shift would improve as she shifted more, but it seemed it was worse than the last time. It may have to do with the amount of energy used to shift she thought. The longer one stayed or the farther one shifted in quantum frequency, the more energy needed and hence the worse the physical effect on the traveler. She'd have to look into this at some point.

She stumbled back to steady her swaying body and bumped into the wall of the shifting booth. She threw her hands below her hips, and her palms slapped at the wall to keep from sliding down its smooth glass surface. She opened her eyes. The bright lights seemed to bore into her skull, so she squinted to hold back the glaring force. Through narrow slits, she saw John kneeling on the floor holding his head. Next to him was the box for shifting the clothes back. Blinking against the glare, she bent down and opened it. She gave a brisk nod when it contained all they'd purchased.

She turned her attention to John and helped him rise from the floor. "Come on. We need to get the clothes we brought back fixed to this quantum state."

They went to the controls, and Sue executed the shifting presets she'd created before they left. The coils hummed while they ramped up to full power, but nothing else happened. Maybe nothing would be apparent since the box wasn't shifting elsewhere.

As the humming wound down, John went into the booth and opened the box. He removed one of the tunics and held it up for Sue. "Well, they're still here."

"That's good, but we won't know it worked for sure until they stay here a few days."

"True," he said. He put the tunic back in the box, carried it out of the booth and placed it on one of the workbenches. Putting a hand to his forehead, he said, "Let's go in the house and rest. My head still hurts."

"No wonder, with the way you keep hitting it."

Once in the house, Sue thumped into her chair with a sigh, her stomach still in knots from the shift. They sat there for several minutes, each lost in their own thoughts.

Sue recalled the other universe and the anger she felt after learning the greedy motives of the conspirators. She also remembered John's calming touch. His eyes were closed now, his head half buried in the deep cushion of the chair. When she closed her own eyes, the sound of his long, slow breathing told her that he was still there and that all was secure for now. It was good knowing someone was here with her after all the pain and loneliness. Was there something more though? Was it more than just having a companion on a journey or was there a spark of something greater?

In the last instant, before they came back, she'd felt something different between them. Although it may only have been her imagination, she felt he was about to kiss her. It was most likely a stray, foolish thought she had but hoped it wasn't. She wasn't sure whether it was just a desire to have a man attracted to her enough to want to kiss her, after all, everyone wanted to be desired by the opposite sex, or if she were starting to have feelings for him. All she knew for sure was that she liked having him here, and that was good enough for now.

John broke the silence. "Have you recovered yet?"

She opened her eyes and looked at his smiling face. "Yeah, I think so."

"Good. We need to figure out where we go from here."

His matter-of-fact demeanor and the words he spoke made the previous thoughts rush from her head. Her mind switched tracks to their current situation. After a moment, she said, "I think we have a few options at this point. We can go to my uncle and tell him everything we know, we can shift back and get more information, or we can try to contact Bechler and get his help."

John leaned forward in the chair. "I still don't think it's a good idea to talk to your uncle. All we know is that these people are trading guns for gold. We know Phil is involved, but we still don't know who the blond man in your lab was. Since he's the one in charge, I think it's vital we find out who he is before we say anything to your uncle."

Sue nodded. "The more I think about it, the more I agree with you. I don't want to put Uncle Bob in any danger. That still leaves two options."

"Now it's my turn," he said, grinning. "I know I wanted to wait for Bechler to help us before, but now I agree with you. I don't know where he is and why he hasn't come back, but we can't wait for him forever."

"Okay then, we shift back."

"Well, not so fast," he said, holding up his hand. "We still have another option to explore."

"Oh, what's that?"

"What about the other universe the conspirators are going to? Universe B. We still haven't been there, and we may be better off spending our time there."

Sue's eyebrows rose. Until now, he'd been reluctant to put himself into unknown situations. Now he was the one suggesting it. He really had meant what he said about being more proactive.

"Hmmm, that's a thought," she said. "Until we go there, we won't know which universe we can get more information from." She nodded. "I think you're right, that should be our next move."

*****

John swayed and almost pitched over. When the familiar dizziness and nausea cleared, he looked across "Universe B." Everywhere around was a vast prairie of grass all the way to each horizon. The cloudless sky was a dingy blue that grayed further as it arced down to meet the earth. When he turned to look behind himself, he could just make out a low rectangular shape peeking above the horizon of wispy grass. He squinted his eyes as though the act would magnify the image and determined it was a squat building in the distance.

Sue stood next to him, one hand to her forehead. He put his hand on her shoulder. "You okay?"

"Yep, I just need a second."

John's hand stayed on her shoulder while she recovered. His thoughts drifted to the last time they shifted, his face flushing over what he'd tried to do. He'd wanted nothing more than to kiss Sue and had started to without thought. Now that he had time to consider it, he shouldn't have tried. He was even thankful for the interruption the shift had provided.

It was impossible that Sue would ever feel anything for him in that way. It was very probable that if he'd succeeded in his attempted kiss, it would've offended her. Or worse, she may have laughed at him. His mind went back to his fifth grade class and to Melissa Childers. He had a huge crush on her and he thought she liked him back. She was one of the few girls that had ever talked to him. He could still feel the pain in his chest from her laughter when he asked her to the school dance. Since that humiliating moment, he'd met many women as attractive as Sue, and there'd never been any hint of interest in him. In fact, most had shunned him like a pariah or laughed at him like Melissa.

The only woman who was ever attracted to John was Rita. But now that he'd been away from her for a time, it was obvious that there was no love between them any longer, and probably never really was to begin with. They'd both been so lonely that they forced their relationship into something that it wasn't. He'd settled for her only because he'd never get another chance, and she'd probably done the same. Being with Sue, and seeing what a true friend could be, he now saw that there wasn't even companionship with Rita any longer. Although nothing more could ever develop between them, he was fortunate that Sue at least wanted him as a friend.

But the question was, how long would it last? Although Sue seemed to enjoy his company for now, would that always be the case? Being with her to solve the mystery they were in was one thing, but what about after? Once finished, she'd go back to her normal life and back to her job at Gladstone. From what he'd seen of her office, the shifting lab and all that they'd talked about since he got here, it was evident that the most important thing in her life was her energy research. He knew nothing of physics and parallel universe theory to be able to relate to her on that level. Once they brought down the conspirators, she'd go back to the life she had before, cutting him out of it. The pain that would bring him was something he didn't want to think of.

For the first time in his life, he had someone who'd listen and try to relate to what he was feeling. When it was gone, it would leave his life emptier than before he knew what it was to have that support. As much as he liked being with Sue, it would be easier to leave as soon as possible rather than become too accustomed to her friendship and then have it torn away.

"Okay, I'm better now," Sue said.

He removed his hand from her shoulder as his mind focused back on the present. "Well, we don't have a lot of options. We can go to that building," he said, pointing over his shoulder, "or we can go to that building."

"Yeah, it seems to be the only thing around."

He turned around and inhaled deeply. "C'mon."

As they trudged along, the distance never seemed to close, the structure much farther than it first appeared. The brown grass around them swept about in the warm breeze. The swishing it made and the thudding of their feet on the dry prairie ground were the only sounds that broke the utter silence. To someone who'd lived in the city since birth, the lifeless surroundings were unnerving.

John shook his head as he scanned the countryside for any sign of life and saw none. Although a city dweller, he'd been out of it enough times to know the country was never silent either. It resounded with the distant caw of birds and the light buzz of insects. Here there was none of that, only the silence of a windswept tomb.

When they drew closer to the building, he could see it was about eighty feet square, its roof covered with the same long grass he was walking on. Either the builders had planted it there to camouflage the building from the sky, or years of dust settling there had built up enough to support its growth. The structure's unadorned, concrete sides were smooth and only broke at a steel door centered on one wall. The door was below ground, and they'd have to descend several steps to a landing. He put his hand on one of the steel guardrails protruding from either side of the stairway and looked down its run. There was a concrete pad buried under several inches of dirt, which previous visitors had excavated enough to open the door.

He pointed to the bottom of the steps. "Looks like someone had to dig out to get the door open."

"Yeah. What do you think this place is?"

"I don't know. It looks like some type of military bunker." He gazed around again at the plain of grass and could still see nothing else rising from the horizon. It was odd that this lone building should be here with nothing else around. Its eeriness made him shudder. It was as though the building was the last mausoleum built on a world that had died long ago. He looked at Sue. "There's only one way to find out what it is."

John led the way down the soil-encrusted steps and onto the concrete pad. He pulled on the door, which opened stiffly and emitted a low groaning sound. When he felt like his arm would come out of its socket, he grabbed the handle with both hands and pulled even harder. When partially open, he reversed angle, pressed his shoulder to the inside surface of the door and pushed while Sue grabbed the handle from outside and pulled.

When it was open, he walked inside, rotating his shoulder and massaging it with his other hand. Beyond the first door, there was another made of glass and steel. As he walked farther into the vestibule, the stale air engulfed him, its sharp mustiness burning into his lungs. The initial wave caused his chest to tighten, but after a few more breaths it became more tolerable.

He came to the second door and pulled hard on its handle. The door flew back and almost hit him in the face, opening like it was hung on well-lubricated bearings. He raised a brow when a waft of the air inside hit him. It was fresher than that in the vestibule and had an almost floral scent, which made it even more pleasant than that outside.

He started to walk through the door, and when halfway, the lights snapped on inside. The ceiling, which was a single panel of light, bathed the room with a dim glow. On each side of the room were small cubicles that housed what appeared to be video or computer screens. The low chairs in front of each had a luxurious velvet appearance, and the floor was covered in a lush carpet that his feet sank into. What caught his eye the most, was a large console in the center of the far wall. It was like he'd entered a chapel and the console was its altar.

"I think you might be right," Sue said. "This looks like it could be some type of military control center."

He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. It could be, but it seems a little too luxurious in here to me."

"What the hell?" Sue exclaimed.

John's heart fluttered as he wrenched his head around and saw her staring at the ceiling. He looked where she was gazing. "What is it?"

"The ceiling is moving. It wasn't that high before."

When he stared at it, his head began to spin, the frosted glass surface appearing to inch away. "Is it getting higher or are we sinking?"

When he said this, it changed, dissolving to a deep blue sky with the wispy white clouds of a pleasant summer day. As the clouds wafted along in the sunny sky, the intensity of light increased to the point of discomfort. Too bad he didn't have sunglasses. He looked down, shielding his eyes. Once adjusted, he jerked his head back. The room below was still dim! With the ceiling growing brighter, the room should too, but it wasn't. It still had the same subdued light like before. He looked back up and squinted at the bright sunny sky.

"This is crazy. Look at the room and then back at the ceiling," he told Sue.

"Damn. How can they do that? The light doesn't seem to be affecting the room."

The ceiling began to change again, and the sky dissolved into a mural that looked like it belonged in a courthouse or other public building.

At first, the change awed John. Then he shook his head and snapped, "We don't have time to stare at the damn ceiling. Come on. Let's look at this console in front."

As they drew near to it, a female voice said, "Hello. I am the Librarian. How may I help you?"

*****

John jumped back, his heart lurching at the sound of the voice. He darted his eyes around looking for the person who spoke. Once the initial shock wore off and it was evident that someone wasn't springing at him from around a corner, he exhaled the huge breath he'd sucked in. There was nobody there. The voice had come from the main console.

"The Librarian?" He glanced around. "Is this some type of library facility then?"

"Correct," answered the Librarian. "This is Master Storage Facility Number Eight; however, most refer to it as the Master Library."

John moved closer to the screen, which had come to life. Its display was three-dimensional, as though he was looking through a window in the wall. In it was a virtual display of book covers, each labeled with text and an image that indicated its area of study. The covers were in rows of ten books across with other ranks popping up behind.

Sue asked, "So by 'master,' does that mean the facility contains all the published books of your society?"

"Correct. It contains all published books, computer data, VR, video and audio. I am here to assist you in accessing any information you wish to research."

It wasn't apparent if it was a woman talking or the synthesized voice of a computer. The speech was more perfect than any computer generated voice John had ever heard, Uncertain, he asked, "Are you a computer?"

There was a slight pause before the answer. "I am currently a computer."

What did it mean by "currently?" Before he could question it, Sue asked, "You said facility number eight. So there are other facilities like this one?"

"There were. I am uncertain if they are still online or not. I have lost contact with them. Are you with the United Earth Alliance?"

"No. I'm not sure what that is," Sue said.

"It was the world government that controlled Earth prior to the attack by the Interstellar Colonies."

"Interstellar Colonies!" Sue exclaimed. "You have interstellar space travel?"

"Correct."

John's mind spun with the implications. If they were this advanced, surely they'd also have other technology and would be able to get him home, back to his job. He asked, "So we can access information on any technology we want?"

"No, only information that is accessible to the public. Security clearance is needed before I can allow access to some files."

John looked at Sue, who likewise looked disappointed. His eyebrow rose. "What do I need for clearance?"

"I would need palm, retina and brain scans and a security key."

"Damn it!" John said.

"What did you want to see?" Sue asked.

"Oh, nothing." She continued to stare at him, so he elaborated. "I just thought that maybe we could access information that would help me get back home."

"Oh," she said, with a frown, and turned back to the computer console.

They both stood there a few moments, quietly looking at the computer screen. Then, John had a thought.

"Wait a minute," he blurted out. "Librarian, have other people been here recently?"

"Yes."

"Do you know who they are?"

"I do not. They were not from the United Earth Alliance but must have been vandals from the Interstellar Colonies."

"How many have come and how often?" John had a hunch but needed to confirm it.

"In total, five different people have come. The most that have been here at one time is three. In the last three days, only two at a time have come, and they have been here once every day."

John was about to blurt out another question, but before he could ask, Sue interjected. "What time of day have they been coming?"

"In the past, they have arrived between one and two a.m. In the last two weeks, they have been arriving between nine and nine-thirty a.m."

John shot his head towards Sue, whose arm was snapping up and looking at her watch. She said, "It's 10:58."

They'd already been here and gone. He let out a breath as the adrenaline rush subsided.

"Wait!" Sue suddenly said. Her head snapped back to the console. "Librarian, what time is it right now?"

"It is 8:58 a.m."

John's adrenaline pumped back to full throttle as his heart began to race. "Shit, we've got to get the hell out of here, now!"

"Come on!" Sue cried, running for the door.

John raced behind. They slowed when they came to the doors, both having closed since entering. While the inside one opened as smoothly as before, the outside door screamed a rusty metal screech when they both threw their full weight at it.

When they were out, John said, "Stay down. We don't know which direction they'll be coming from."

He climbed the steps at a half crouch, peering over the tall grass. When there was nobody in any direction, he stood higher. "Let's take a look at the other side of the building."

John walked towards the corner and peered around it. There was only more grass, so he exhaled, his muscle tension easing. He walked around the corner and along the side of the building with Sue following behind. When he reached the next corner, he saw two men running towards the building. The first was shoving the grass aside as he sprinted while the second lagged behind, bobbing back and forth as he lugged two equipment cases.

John jumped back, his heart racing faster as the hair on his arms rose. He whispered, "Two guys are running this way. One of them is Franz."

"Are they coming to this side of the building?"

"No, they're closer to the other side. We'll be okay here."

Sue nodded. Soon they heard the thumping of feet then the whooshing of grass when the men drew near. John edged forward again as the two disappeared around the far corner, now running along the wall parallel to where he and Sue were standing.

John strode around the corner and now was on the side of the building opposite the door. He edged along the wall as quickly as he could but also trying to be as quiet as possible. When he looked around the next corner, the two men were gone. He ran around it and came to a stop at the front corner. The men were talking while they descended the stairway to the door.

"It must have been something else," Franz said.

"The door's closed," said the other man, "but I'm sure that was the noise I heard. Maybe someone's inside. Come on, give me a hand."

The groan of the door screeched out when it opened and then again when it closed. John gave a quick glance around the corner, but the men were gone. Although his pulse eased, his panic was still high. Franz had almost killed him twice before, and seeing the big man again unnerved him. He turned to Sue. "That was close. We'll have to stay out of their sight until we shift back."

She didn't respond and was examining something high on the wall next to them. She pointed towards the roof. "Do you think you can boost me up that high?"

The roofline was more than a yard over his head. He'd need to lift her to a point where she could step onto his shoulders for her to scale that high. She was pretty light though, so he nodded. "Yeah, but why?"

"I want to go on the roof and get a better view."

"Oh?"

"You'd think there would be more than just this single building around here, wouldn't you?"

"You'd think." He hunched down with his back to the wall and cupped his hands together. "Come on. Put your foot in and I'll boost you up."

"Okay," she replied, stepping in and lifting herself while John stood up straight. Her body fell into his and her left breast slapped his nose upward as it passed by. When she came to a stop, his eyes were level with her crotch.

"Sorry," she said, looking down at him.

He turned a deep red. Thank God she can't see me. He started to talk aloud but in a muffled voice. He turned his head to the side to speak more clearly. "That's okay."

His face flushed more, both from strain and from further embarrassment. It was hard to keep his eyes averted from her. He admonished himself to keep his mind on his task.

"Ready to go up?" he asked, his voice quivering a bit.

"Yeah."

"I'll lift you as high as I can, then step on my shoulders."

"Okay."

His arms strained as he lifted her foot to the height of his chest, and he groaned when the sole of her shoe dug into his shoulder. Soon the weight was off and her feet were withdrawing over the edge of the roof.

After a few seconds, her smiling face appeared again. "Made it."

"Good. What do you see?"

"Hold on a sec, and I'll look."

He wiped the perspiration from his forehead while he waited for her report. The breeze, though warm, helped cool him when it picked up strength. Having been unable to help himself earlier, he needed the cooling after the embarrassing encounter. Yes, he was married and shouldn't be looking at her in that way, but how could he resist? Any other man would do the same.

 "John?" Sue's voice broke into his thoughts.

He looked up. "Yes?"

"I can see the tops of some tall buildings over in that direction." She pointed towards one of the corners opposite the door. "But they look pretty damaged from what I can see. When we come back, we should bring some binoculars."

"Good idea," he said. "How far away do you think they are?"

"Hmmm . . . maybe twenty miles or so."

"That's a pretty long hike to go investigate."

"Yeah."

He looked around. Too bad there wasn't another way to get on the roof. He stood up straight as he smiled and he looked up at Sue. "Hey, I'll bet I can get up there too."

"Think you can jump this high?" she chuckled.

"No, but I can climb up on the handrail by the stairs."

"Hey, that'll work. I'll meet you over there and help you up." Her head disappeared for a second but then popped back. "Be careful. Those two are still inside."

"I know."

John went to the railing and hiked his foot onto it. He put both hands on his leg just above the knee and pushed up with both arms while he jumped with the opposite leg. He came to full height then continued forward from the momentum.

His arms flailed into the wall and his left hand grasped onto the edge of the roof parapet. He threw his weight back to keep from arcing into the stairway but almost fell backward instead when his second foot slammed down on the railing. His grip on the parapet, though strained, was strong enough to prevent the fall. His second hand shot up to get another grasp on the edge, and Sue grabbed his wrists to help balance him further.

 "It's all right. I have you now," she said.

"Sure, now if I fall, you get to come with me."

"I'm stronger than you think," Sue insisted.

"Good. So, help me onto the damn roof!"

He brought his left leg over the parapet and hooked it onto the edge. When he put his weight on the leg to pull over, there was a screeching grind as the door below started to open. He took in a sharp breath as his pulse quickened. This time, Franz really would kill him when he saw John hanging there.

*****

Bob Humboldt sat in his office chair, poring over the DAP finance report. Scanning across the expense breakdown, he cursed when he saw the line item on the shifting project for last quarter. With all the talk of budget cuts, the over-expenditure the report showed would only add fuel to the fire. Feeling his blood pressure rise, he flung the report to the far corner of his desk and turned his chair towards the window. He didn't care what the damned numbers said and how much money had been spent. He'd keep the project moving forward, no matter what.

Bob continued to stare out the window for a time. Taking several deep breaths, he tried to relax his muscles. He was just so tired out inside. The last few months had taken a heavy toll on him, especially the death of the best friend he ever had, Manny.

They'd met in elementary school when they were in the same class and immediately became close. As time went on, they became inseparable. His best childhood memories were of times spent at Manny's house. The older Bob got, the more his parents slipped into alcoholism, first neglecting, then abusing him. Manny's house was his refuge, his friend's parents always welcoming him into their home. When they came to understand what was happening to Bob, they became more like parents than his own. Manny was his brother.

Manny's parents had pushed him to finish high school and paid for his college tuition. He'd only accepted this with the agreement that he'd pay them back some day. He was never able to though. When Manny's parents died in a terrible car crash soon after graduation, he wept more than at any time in his life. The only thing harder for him was Manny's death.

Years later, when the alcoholism had finally caught up with Bob's parents and they died a few short years apart, he felt nothing when he stood over their caskets. In his mind, his real parents had died in the earlier car crash, and these people meant only horrible memories.

In the intervening years, his personal life was always in a perpetual state of collapse. He'd battled with heavy drinking himself, been married twice and divorced twice. The only refuge he had was in his successful career. He'd joined the DAP out of college, first as a researcher, then as a field agent, and finally in administration.

As his career skyrocketed and his personal life worsened with the years, one thing had always been constant: his friendship with Manny. Despite their separation, they always remained in touch. When Manny got married, Bob flew back from Europe to be the best man at his wedding. A year later, when Manny's wife died giving birth to Sue, Bob rushed back from Japan. He took an entire month off work to help his friend through a very rough period.

It was during this time that he fell in love with Sue. He never wanted to be a parent. In fact, with his childhood being so tragic, he'd opposed it with both his wives. However, once touched by the tiny life, Sue drew him into a fatherly spell. Although he never told Manny, he changed positions at the DAP because of them. He wouldn't have to travel as much and could spend more time with both his friend and the daughter that so enchanted him.

As it turned out, though, his move brought the position he had today. He rose higher in the ranks of administration than he ever imagined but, over time, began working more hours and spending less time with his adopted family. By this time, Sue was a teenager and didn't want to be around Uncle Bob as much as she used to. No matter what though, he'd be with her whenever possible and would spoil her as he'd always done.

When she was nearly finished with college, Sue and Manny came to him with her theory of energy transfer. He naturally did everything he could to help her. At first, he gave his assistance simply because it was Sue asking. He'd never denied her anything. Once he discovered the power of what they'd brought him, he pushed harder to bring about the project as it was today. What at first had been a favor to the young woman he thought of as his daughter soon became an obsession to bring about change in a world he saw as declining.

Through his direction of the project, he'd usher in a rebirth of the preeminence of the United States as the sole world power. It would be a new era for humanity. However, all this was due, like everything else good that had happened in his life, to his association with Manny. Bob would always be indebted to him.

The ring of his telephone wrenched him from his reminiscence. As he spun the chair to answer it, he had one final thought before picking up the receiver. All that he did was for Manny too.

*****

Sue jerked her face towards John as his eyes widened. Her eyes, likewise bulging out, stared into his for what seemed minutes before she reacted. She reached over the edge of the library roof, snatched the waist of his pants and started pulling.

Franz would kill them both if he saw John hanging there! She had to get him onto the roof before the big man saw him. Her forehead breaking out with beads of sweat, she groaned as she dug her heels into the curb of the roof and pulled him with all her strength. While she did this, he pulled up too, spinning his body over the parapet. As the grinding of the door ceased, John landed on top of her, his butt sitting in her lap. They both froze. Were they far enough from the edge that the two men wouldn't see them? If they weren't, they'd soon be dead! From below, voices rose.

"Now I gotta carry all them freakin' batteries over here," grumbled Franz.

"Quit your damn bitching. I'm gonna help."

Soon the swishing of the grass subsided as the two walked off in the direction they'd come earlier. Sue and John sat frozen for nearly a minute before daring to move.

"Damn it; you're heavy. I think you broke my legs," Sue moaned.

John rolled alongside her and retorted, "Oh, come on now. It couldn't have been too bad for someone as strong as you."

At first, she glared at him, but when a grin came to his face, her lips transformed into a smile and they both laughed.

"All right, smart guy. Are you just going to sit there or will you help me up?"

Once on his feet, he took her hand and pulled. She led him through the tall grass to the middle of the roof and pointed to the far-off buildings.

"There they are," she said.

It was hard to tell at this distance, but they appeared damaged, as wisps of twisted metal shot from the top and sides. There was none of the movement or activity that would be expected in a city with life. No lights flashing, no air traffic flying overhead, no smoke rising from factory or power plant, just an eerie stillness. The city was as lifeless as the surrounding terrain.

"Look out, I can see our two friends walking," John said.

"Don't worry. They're walking away from us."

"I know, but they could turn around and look in this direction."

As if on cue, Franz started to turn. Sue and John both shot down into the tall grass, obscuring themselves. Sue looked between the tips of the overlapping blades and saw him glance back for a moment. He turned forward again, continuing his steady pace away from them.

"Shit, I told you," John admonished.

"Yeah, I know. He didn't see us though. I think he was just checking to see how far they walked."

John was seating himself so Sue did likewise, sitting with her legs crossed opposite him. It was good to rest after the previous excitement, and she now had time to reflect on things. She was sitting on a strange roof in a parallel universe with a man who she'd known for only a short time. When he'd fallen into her house, she never could've imagined that it would lead to a chain of events as bizarre as this. Yet here she sat.

She glanced at John. He'd snapped off a long blade of the grass and had it sticking out of his mouth. The seeded end of the blade swirled through the air while he worked the other end between his teeth, his jaw moving side to side. He took another blade in his hand and began to brush it through the air as if he were an artist delicately laying paint on a canvas.

She'd seen him earlier when he'd blushed. How a little thing so innocent and accidental as their contact could affect him. He seemed so naïve and childlike at times, his emotions open and plain for all to see. His fears and insecurities could overwhelm him.

There was far more to him than these surface qualities though. He'd surprised her more than once already, overcoming his anxieties and showing bravery as great as any she'd ever known. While he wore some emotions on his sleeve, he kept others hidden. He'd shown little to no interest in her, sexually or romantically.

Was it because he was married? It was doubtful. With what little he'd told her about his relationship, it appeared to be unhappy. Besides, plenty of men who were supposed to be happily married would've forgotten their mate over the past week without half so many reasons as John had.

It wasn't that she was irresistible. In fact, her nose was too pointed, her thighs were flabby and her butt was too big. While they didn't make her ugly, she'd never felt beautiful either.

John just didn't seem to fit the mold of most men. For reasons she didn't fully understand, she felt an attraction to him. She just wasn't sure if he felt the same way. She had no clue whether his attitude toward her stemmed from a lack of chemistry or from shyness. The whole thing was just too confusing, so she made up her mind to think of something else. She started to consider the buildings in the distance again. She rose to her knees and was just able to see over the top of the grass and the remains of the city.

She said, to herself as much to John, "I wonder what happened here? It's so dead and lifeless. From what we can see of that city, it looks destroyed, and the computer said it had lost contact with the other libraries. What happened?"

He spit the piece of grass from his mouth. "The Librarian had talked about an attack from the Interstellar Colonies. The only thing I can think of would be a war that wiped out everything around here." He continued to swish the other length of grass through the air while his eyes followed its feathery tip.

"I wonder if the whole world is like this or just this area."

"It's hard to say. The library seems to be functioning still, so I'd think there'd be other survivors."

Sue persisted in the conversation despite his apparent lack of interest. "Yeah except the computer said it couldn't contact anyone at the other libraries."

"But that only means either those facilities no longer work or the communication channel has been cut. It doesn't mean everything was wiped out." He continued to stare at the grass in his hand. "We should be able to get more information from the Librarian once we can get back in there."

"I suppose." He seemed distracted so she prompted him. "Was there something else?"

He looked into her eyes. "Well, yes. Not about the civilization here though."

"About what then?"

He threw away the piece of grass. "Ever since the Librarian told us about the information that's stored here, I've been thinking."

The muscles in her jaw tightened, her nostrils flaring. It was obvious what was coming. He'd asked the computer about technology to help him get home, and he was going to bring it up again. She said nothing though, waiting to hear his anticipated words.

John continued, "I'm willing to bet that's the reason the conspirators have been coming here."

Her jaw loosened. The expected hadn't come. "What do you mean?"

"They're after the information on advanced technology contained in the library."

 "Of course!"

"Just think, if they've solved the problem of interstellar space travel, their technology must be centuries ahead of ours. Can you imagine what would happen if the wrong people got hold of that?"

Sue put her hand over her mouth as she took in a sharp breath. Her fingers dragged down and fell off her chin as her mind whirled with the implications. "They could take over the world, couldn't they?"

"Yep. Especially with weapons powerful enough to destroy a whole planet." His hand gestured to the surroundings.

Sue shivered from a sudden chill.

He shook his head. "I don't know how the other universe ties into all this, but the technology is what they're after." He gazed into her eyes. "That's what your father was murdered for."

## CHAPTER 8

John tramped through the long grass as they walked to the library, the evening light angling a long shadow to his side. They'd shifted back home and waited long enough to be sure the coast was clear for them to return and talk to the Librarian again. John glanced at Sue, who was starting to get winded. Since her shorter legs were taking two steps to each of his, the walk was more tiring for her. He slowed his pace.

Sue asked between breaths, "You know quite a bit about computers. How easy do you think it'll be for them to break into it?"

"My guess is that it'll be difficult. Their computer technology is more advanced than ours, so their security measures should be more sophisticated too."

"Good. I'd rather nobody get the information."

"I agree."

"In fact, I'm wondering if we should have a contingency plan of some kind."

"What kind of plan?"

"Well, if we think they're getting close, it would be better to destroy the whole facility."

John jerked to a halt. "What do you mean? Bomb the place?"

"Or burn it." She stopped alongside him, leaning forward with her hands on her thighs.

"I don't even want to think of doing something like that," he said, his stomach turning.

Bechler may never come back, and even if he did, it seemed doubtful he could help. He'd never known anything living to be permanently shifted like John. As advanced as the society in this universe was, the answer he needed must be in the computer. The Librarian was his best hope of getting home and back to his programming job. Destroying the computer would end that.

Sue responded, "I don't like thinking about it either. It would be criminal to lose all that knowledge, but we have to be sure they don't get it. Don't we?"

"I guess you're right, but only as a last resort."

They came to the bunker and walked down the steps. As he strained on the door, he began to perspire. It wasn't the exertion, but that Franz might be inside. Once the door was open, it was evident his fears were unfounded. It was dark inside except for a few flashing lights on the front console. He opened the inner door to the same lights and fresh air like before and went to the main terminal. The flashing lights were from a laptop computer that the conspirators had left on the console. It was connected to a data port on the library computer. On the floor alongside were several bags with wires coming out, each chaining into the one next to it.

John squatted down and opened one of the satchels. Inside was the top of a battery. The conspirators had wired the batteries together with the last in the chain plugged into the laptop's external power connector. Looking around at the walls, there were no electrical outlets. The conspirators wanted the program on the laptop to keep running for a long time and couldn't do it without the extra batteries.

"What's all this?" Sue asked.

"They're batteries for the laptop. They must be running a password cracking program through the computer port to gain access." He stood and turned to her. "Something like that could take weeks depending on how sophisticated the login and password set are."

"And because there aren't any wall sockets to plug into, they'll have to keep coming back to swap out battery packs."

"Exactly," he said.

"How long do you think they can run with this many batteries?"

"There's quite a few here," he said as he looked down at the battery cases. "But then again, that computer is working full speed every second." He shrugged and looked at her. "I don't know, at least a day or two."

"Good. At least we know they won't be coming back soon."

He nodded. "That's true. They'll probably come back the same time every day and change them out with fresh ones." He sat in one of the chairs. "Librarian, I have some questions."

"How may I be of assistance?" the female voice responded.

"I see the others have come back and connected a computer to you."

"That is correct."

"Are they attempting to gain full access to you?"

"Correct."

"How long do you think it'll take to gain access to your system in this way?"

"I am sorry, I cannot answer that question."

"You don't know?" That was unlikely. There was no way of telling for sure if the conspirators were hitting it with random combinations of logins and passwords. The computer should be able to provide an estimate based on their complexity though.

"I am unable to give you an estimate due to your lack of security clearance. Please validate, and I will answer."

"Sorry, I can't. I'm not from the United Earth Alliance."

"Are you from the Interstellar Colonies?"

"No. We're from another universe—a parallel one."

"I am familiar with the theory of parallel universes. My power source uses energy transferred from them. However, I have no data on the ability for human travel between universes."

Sue jumped in. "So you use power transferred from other universes?"

"Correct."

"How much information about this technology are you able to give me?" Sue asked, her eyes glistening.

"I am able to show you the common usage of the technology within our society but cannot explain the theory behind it or the details on how it is accomplished."

She looked at John and snapped, "Shit! We won't get very far talking to this damn thing!"

"Calm down, Sue. I've been around computers long enough to know it doesn't do any good to get mad at them."

John continued to ask general questions about the library and the society that created it. The librarian told him about the war that had destroyed the Earth. The Interstellar Colonies had resisted the rule of Earth for decades, but the conflict had finally broken into all-out war. After they'd attacked and shattered Earth's space fleet, they came after the planet itself. The colonies destroyed as much of the Earth's surface as they could, so it would never recover to rule them again.

While there were some survivors after the attack, much of the remaining population suffered from radiation exposure and only had a short time to live. Most of the planet was unable to sustain life any longer, but there were a few habitable areas intact. Those still healthy enough to reproduce went there. With the elimination of the infrastructure needed to sustain it though, civilization was dying. A dark age was coming, and it would take generations to build a society like it again.

That was when they'd constructed the library facilities. It was decided that all remaining computer resources should be pooled together to store the accumulated knowledge of technology and culture. That way, when the people of Earth rose again and were able to use it, the knowledge needed to build a technological society wouldn't have been lost. It would be there waiting, for centuries if need be.

Sue was quiet while the Librarian told them this but then spoke up. She looked at John. "This is all very interesting, but it doesn't help us."

John agreed that the background wasn't getting them the information they needed. He noticed something interesting though. This was a sophisticated computer and seemed able to offer information beyond his questions. It was able to analyze, then anticipate, what he was looking for and expand on the facts pertinent to his research.

Maybe he should try a different approach. Since it wasn't able to give him the technical information he needed to get home, maybe he could use the machine to help in another way. Maybe it could assist them in solving their immediate problem of the identity of the conspirators. They must be the key anyway since they brought him here. If he could find out who they were, he'd be able to determine how and why. If he told the computer what they'd discovered so far, it may offer assistance in ways he couldn't think of.

He turned back to the display. "Librarian, I think I need to explain what's going on so you can understand our situation. Then I want you to offer as much helpful information as you can without compromising your security. Okay?"

"Agreed," replied the Librarian.

John proceeded to explain everything that had happened. He told it about his transport from another universe, the murder of Sue's father, the transport of guns to the universe of the empire and them coming to find the laptop. Neither the Librarian nor Sue interrupted while he spoke.

"Librarian, what information can you offer us that'll help in our investigation of this conspiracy?"

Several three-dimensional pictures popped out from the display. He recognized some of them: Phil, Franz and Bobby. The others he'd never seen before.

Sue reacted to the images. "Look at that. I recognize most of them."

John pointed to the three he knew. "I've seen these guys before, but what about the other two, Sue? Do you know either of them?"

"Yeah, this one here," she said as she put her finger on the screen. "He was one of the programmers who wrote the control program for the quantum shifter. I'm not positive, but I think the other one was too."

"Do you know their names?"

"Not off the top of my head."

"Librarian, do you know this man's name?" John pointed to the man, and the first name of each man appeared below the pictures.

The Librarian said, "His first name is Desmond, but I do not know his last."

Sue sat straight in the chair. "Yeah, that's his name. I didn't talk to him too many times though, so I don't know anything about him."

John pointed to the second picture labeled 'Sanjay' underneath. "What about this one?"

"No." Sue shook her head. "I think I only saw him once and never talked to him."

"He is the primary person attempting to gain access to the information contained in my system," said the Librarian. "He has studied the data port that one of your computers is connected to and devised a program which is attempting to breach my security."

John sighed. "It's not that important for us to find out who these men are. What we need to know is who the head of the conspiracy is. We saw the back of his head that night, but none of these guys are blond or have their hair cut like his."

"No, they don't," Sue agreed. She turned from John back to the computer screen. "Librarian, have any of these men mentioned who their leader is?"

"No, they have not."

John leaned forward, resting his elbows on the console and his chin in his hands. "Another dead end," he said.

His eyes dropped down to the console surface, his shoulders slumping. Now what? If the computer wasn't going to be much help to them, what was their next step?

"Damn it, now what?" John bellowed. He stood and began to pace the room.

"Don't get frustrated, John," Sue said. "Like you told me before, it doesn't do any good to get mad at a computer."

"No, but it might make me feel better if I threw a chair through that damn screen," he said, his finger shooting towards it. He stormed up to it and yelled, "Isn't there any way you can help us!"

"Yes, there is," replied the Librarian in its even voice.

"What?" he blurted out, his head jerking back. "How? How can you help us?"

"If you can transport me back to your universe, I will be able to assist with your investigation."

"Oh great," he snarled. "And just how am I going to transport this whole damn building back with us?"

"You will not need to. Please enter the door to your right."

As the Librarian said this, there was a scraping sound, and a wall panel to the right of the console slid back. They both shot from their chairs, staring at each other. After a moment, they crept through the door, John entering first.

The room was as large as the one they'd departed but seemed cramped from all the equipment it contained. Most were likely racks of computer equipment, but some looked to serve other functions. When he walked in farther, he could start to see around the corner of the wall behind the main computer console. He turned in that direction and had begun to head around it when he froze. Someone was there.

*****

The woman sat motionless at the bench, her hand clutching a small device the size of a deck of playing cards. John inched forward and got a full view. She was around twenty with straight blonde hair and a creamy complexion. Tilted down towards the tabletop, her perfectly proportioned face had a tranquil appearance. Her deep brown eyes appeared almost black and were transfixed on the task she was performing on the bench. She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman John had ever seen.

Sue came up while he stood there frozen. "What the hell?" she blurted out.

The spell was broken. There was something unnatural in the woman's appearance. She was as still as a corpse. In fact, if not for her healthy pink color, she would've looked dead.

John went closer and examined her. There was no indication of decay when he inhaled, only the same flowery freshness of the surrounding air. He reached for her wrist and felt no telltale surge of blood under her cool skin. He rotated her arm and brushed his fingers along the inside of her wrist. He compared it to his own.

"Is she dead?" Sue asked.

He turned to her. "Let me see something."

He took Sue's hand and brushed his fingers along the surface of her skin, feeling the usual irregularities caused by bone, muscle and veins. He dropped her hand and grabbed the other woman's for another look. The surface of the skin was even toned with no sign of veining underneath. The contour was smooth, with no bone or muscle structure below.

"It's a dummy," he said, turning back to Sue. "The skin's too perfect, and I can't feel any bone structure beneath it."

"What?" Sue exclaimed. "Let me see."

She went to the woman and examined her like John had, feeling the arm and then doing the same on her neck.

"You're right. It isn't a woman."

"I wonder what this thing is doing back here?" John asked.

"That is me," said the Librarian.

John's head shot in the direction the voice had come from. It wasn't from the body but from a computer terminal on the bench.

"What do you mean it's you?" he asked.

"That is my body."

Sue pointed to it. "You mean that's a robot?"

"That is correct."

"What happened to it? Is it broken?" John asked.

"No. The power unit inside me is faulty. I was replacing my primary supply when my backup unit failed."

"If it's you, how is it that you're talking to us now?" John asked.

"The power unit did not fail immediately. It was working at a low power level for a time, so I still had brain function but no body function. I was able to download my programming into the main computer."

"How long ago did this happen?"

"It has been ninety-seven years, three months and nineteen days."

John's eyes widened. How could anyone suffer being trapped inside the confines of a prison, let alone a computer for so long? But then again, the robot was a computer too. Even so, the more John interacted with it, the more impressed he was by the sophistication of the program. He couldn't begin to fathom where he'd start to write a program that interacted so easily and in such a humanoid way. How much more immersive would the exchange be if he was talking to the robot instead of an expressionless screen?

"The power unit you spoke of: is that what you're holding on the table?" Sue asked.

"Correct."

"You mentioned you capture energy from parallel universes. Does this device work on that principle?"

"Correct."

John could see that look in Sue's eyes again. She was bubbling over with excitement.

"Oh wow! It's so small. How can you make it that compact?"

"That information is classified," said the Librarian.

"Yeah, I guess it would be." She looked at John and exclaimed, "This is fantastic! It's what we've been working towards. I knew once we perfected the technique that we could shrink it. Maybe not this small, but I knew we could."

Sue pulled the energy unit from the Librarian's hand and examined it. She turned it around then hefted it to get a feel for its weight.

"It's so light too. I'd love to take it apart and see how it's made."

The Librarian responded, "I cannot allow you to do that. If you attempt to leave the room, I will shut the door and prevent it."

Sue sighed, "All right, I'll put it down." She laid it on the table. "What matter does it shift to the other universe to get the energy back?"

"It uses water as fuel."

"Interesting, so if we fill this back up with water, you'll be able to use it again?" Sue asked.

"Yes, there is a water tap around the back of the cabinets to your right. Please take the power unit and unscrew the small port on the side marked in green. You may then fill it with water and return the cap."

Sue pulled the unit from the table again and walked around the cabinets. As she came back, she was screwing the cap back in. She walked up to the Librarian. "Okay, it's filled. Now what?"

"You will need to lift my shirt. Between my breasts is a flap of skin that pulls back. Once you do this, you will see a slot that will accept the power unit. Please insert it so the red end goes in first."

Sue put the power unit down and pulled up the Librarian's shirt. John's face flushed. Even though it was a robot, it looked so much like a woman he couldn't help himself. The exposed breasts were as perfect as her face.

Sue felt the area the Librarian indicated. "I don't see the spot you're talking about."

"I am unable to open the slot myself due to the lack of power. You will need to put one hand on each side of my sternum and pull back."

"John, come over here and hold up the shirt," Sue said. It was a silky white material, which stretched and kept snapping back down when Sue let go.

"Sure." He held the shirt up and looked for the slot as well, his eyes occasionally drifting off to one breast or the other.

Sue put each hand on a breast and pulled. The skin parted on a seam that was invisible a moment before, exposing the slot. With his free hand, John took the power unit from the table and inserted it.

The Librarian said, "John, please remove the unit next to the one you inserted. It is faulty and will need to be replaced as well."

John did as instructed and pulled the unit from the slot. He asked, "Where are the replacements?"

"In the far left cabinet above my workstation."

John opened the door and saw several spare units stacked on one of the shelves. He took one to the faucet, filled it with water and inserted it into the open slot. When Sue released the skin, it sank back into place, and the seam became invisible again.

"You will now need to connect me to my computer console so I can initialize the power units."

Sue looked around. "Connect you with what?"

"In the same cabinet as the power units, there is a red interface cable. Plug it into the jack to the right of the computer screen."

John grabbed the cable from the shelf and handed it to Sue. She plugged it into the jack. "Okay, where do I plug it into you?"

"Pull on the hair just above my left ear, and it will expose a jack that the cable will plug into."

Sue did as instructed and inserted the cable. It was several seconds before anything happened, but then the Librarian's body jerked.

"Is it working?" John asked.

"Yes. The power units have started, and my brain has passed preliminary diagnostic testing. I am now downloading my memories."

After a time, the Librarian said, "Please disconnect the cable from me."

Sue unplugged the cable and the Librarian stood, sending the chair she'd been sitting in rolling backward. Her body began to go through a series of exercises as her arms, legs, fingers and neck swiveled through their full range of motions.

John thought her body was malfunctioning. "Is something wrong?"

"No. She is executing her initialization diagnostics. It tests the function of all bodily systems to make sure they are operating within normal parameters," said the Librarian.

As the body gyrated in front of him, John's eyes began to drift. While he'd examined her breasts earlier, now he noticed the rest of her body. The pants she wore were made of the same material as the shirt. Its form-fitting snugness showed off the hourglass contour of her long slim waist and shapely hips. Her buttocks were round and firm, and her thighs were tight and muscular, but not to the point of excess. Like everything else, her lower body was perfectly proportioned and incredibly appealing.

When all extremities had completed testing, her eyes, face and mouth began to go through a series of similar exercises. Finally, it was time to test speech, and she began to emit all possible phonemes in rapid succession. When finished, the robot looked at John. "I have completed all diagnostics and am functioning within acceptable limits."

The illusion was now complete, and John would swear in any court she was a woman. The way she talked was faultless, and the minor imperfections he noticed earlier were invisible in normal interaction.

"As you can see," said the Librarian, "I am now mobile and able to return with you to your universe to assist with the investigation."

*****

The Librarian walked out the heavy steel door and up the low concrete steps. It was the first time she'd been outside for almost a century, and she was struck by the brightness of the mid-afternoon sun. Its warmth made her skin tingle, as did the feel of the hot handrail beneath her fingertips. The sensations she felt were incredible after suffering the bondage of the master computer for so long.

Her eyes adjusted to the intense illumination, and she stepped onto the long, flowing grass. A light breeze whisked her face and pushed several strands of her loose, golden hair onto it. The wisps tickled her cheek and nose when she brought her hand up to brush it aside. Even this simple act was somehow extraordinary as her fingers pulsed with the tug of hair against them.

How much better it was to be back in her body and experience these sensations for herself. Experiencing this through a mere camera or some protruding temperature probe fixed to the building's exterior could never compare. The past memories of her body were distant and flat, her program forcing her to compress and dull these impressions to save storage space. However, what she felt now was fresh, intense and intricate beyond any anticipation of her recollection.

The near century of existence within the computer had provided some benefit though. The time had allowed her sophisticated program to study the vast store of humanity's accumulated data. In particular, she studied human culture, thought and emotion many times over. With each subsequent iteration of review, her programming had modified its flow to enhance her understanding and integration with humankind.

Now back in her robotic body with its neural network, a transformation was taking place. What had been outside her grasp within the sensory-deprived confines of the master computer, she was now able to achieve. With a vast array of ultra-high resolution sensors to see, hear, feel and smell, the ability to move about without constraint, and a body that was separate and unique from all else, her program was altering in a significant way. She now knew a sense of self that was impossible in her previous form.

As she strolled along, continuing to take in the ambiance of the world around her, she had a thought alien to anything she'd experienced before. In nanoseconds, her heuristic routines began to decipher and then, ultimately, grasp it. She knew that if she were indeed a woman and not the mechanical being she was, there was a definition for this thought, for this state of mind she was in. She was happy.

*****

As the wave of nausea subsided, John put his hand out to balance himself on the wooden cabinet he shifted with. It was a large storage cabinet with two latching doors. After they'd removed all the shelves, it was large enough to transport the Librarian in.

As his head cleared further, he saw the Librarian about a hundred yards away walking at a casual pace. Her eyes were scanning around, and her hand was brushing along the top of the flowing grass. She waved in acknowledgment when she saw him, a smile coming to her face.

As she drew closer, he called, "Hurry, you don't have much time."

They had transported John and the cabinet with minimal energy so they'd only be there a few minutes before shifting back to the lab. Sue felt that with the mass of the enclosure compared to that of the Librarian, they'd have less than a minute to use the machine to fix her matter to their universe. Sue stayed behind to marshal John out of the shifting booth as fast as possible then execute the machine's program. There was no need for two people to get the Librarian, and she could better accomplish her task if not muddled from the shift. John agreed.

The Librarian picked up her pace to a trot and soon came up to him. She said with a smile, "Hello, John."

"Hi," he said as he opened the doors and rushed her inside the cabinet. He slammed them behind her, turning the handles to secure the latches. They'd waited for less than a minute before the shift began.

Sue's hand grabbed his when she led him stumbling from the booth and into a waiting chair. Although he always felt weak after shifting, he felt more so this time. The room was a spinning blur, and he had to tighten his throat muscles to keep the rising acid at bay. When he looked up, his head and vision had cleared enough to see Sue monitoring the controls of the machine. When the hum of the coils died down, she went into the booth and opened the cabinet doors.

The Librarian stepped out, her eyes scanning the room. John pushed himself from the chair and tottered towards them while the two exited the booth. The room was spinning, and he was still woozy, his hand holding on to the edge of the booth.

"It seems like it worked as planned," he said. "Are there any bad effects from the shift?"

The Librarian smiled at him again. "I have run a quick diagnostic on my brain, and all seems well. I will run a more extensive one later to verify."

"Good," muttered John, the room beginning to spin violently. "Now the two of you can help me into the house."

He crumpled to the floor and passed out.

*****

Sue rushed over to catch John, but the Librarian with her faster reflexes got there first. She held his full weight in one arm and checked his pulse with her other hand.

"His heart is beating faster than normal," said the Librarian. "Has this happened before?"

"No, I think it's because he shifted there and back so fast," Sue said. She laid her hand across his forehead as though checking for fever but then brushed her hand back to stroke his hair. "He's always been kind of sensitive to shifting," she said. The strange oscillation Bechler had commented on may be the cause. With shifting being so new and untested, there was no telling what effects it could have on any of them. She'd need to observe him for a time to verify it was nothing serious.

"Is there somewhere we can lay him down to recover?" asked the Librarian.

"We can bring him into the house," Sue said as she started to reach for his legs. "I'll need your help to carry him though."

"There is no need for you to assist me. I am able to carry him myself."

The Librarian scooped her free arm under John's legs and picked him up. Sue widened her eyes at the ease with which the robot lifted him. Although taller than Sue, the robot's arms were smaller around and had no sign of any significant muscle structure. It would be interesting to find out what mechanism made its motion possible. Was it some type of motor and pulley system, a series of linear actuators, or some metal alloy or other unknown material like muscle wire? It was most likely the latter because its movement was silent.

Sue led them to the house and directed the Librarian to lay John on the couch. She went to the kitchen and made tea for him, starting the water to boil then going back to check on him. When she entered, the robot was doting over him, fluffing a pillow and placing it under his head.

"What are you doing?" Sue asked.

The robot looked up. "I am just making him more comfortable."

Sue stiffened her body as she clenched her jaw. What was wrong with the thing? It was somehow irritating in its mannerisms and seemed to be hovering over John.

"Will you let him rest?" Sue snapped. She motioned towards a chair by the window. "Go sit down."

"As you wish," the robot said, going to the chair.

Sue sat in a chair next to John and watched until he opened his eyes a few minutes later. Through squinting lids, he looked around like he wasn't sure where he was. His gaze landed on Sue. "What happened?"

"You passed out," she said, the queasiness in her stomach easing now that he seemed to be recovering.

"Great," he croaked. "How long?"

"About ten minutes."

He put a hand to his head. "I feel like there's a hundred jackhammers in my head."

"I think we shifted you back and forth too fast."

"I'll remember not to do that again."

There was a whistle from the kitchen when the teapot boiled. Sue rose. "I'm making you some tea. I'll be right back."

"Uh huh," he mumbled.

"May I have a glass of water?" asked the Librarian.

Sue jerked to a halt and spun around, glaring at the robot. "What on earth do you need water for?"

"In addition to my power units, some of my other systems use water as well."

"Fine," Sue said as she turned and continued towards the kitchen.

When she got there, she poured the steaming water into two cups for them and plopped a tea bag into each. John preferred milk in his tea. She added a liberal amount to his and then dispensed water from the tap into a tall glass. She placed all three containers on a tray and carried it to the living room. When she entered, John was rising to a sitting position, and the robot bolted over to him, snatching his hand to assist. It was sitting down next to him when Sue leaned over to put the beverage tray on the table. She narrowed her eyes when she noted that the robot's left leg was touching John's right even though the bulk of the couch was available to her.

Sue sat in the chair to John's left. "Feeling better?"

"A little," he said with a faint smile. "My head still hurts, but there's only one jackhammer pounding away now."

"Well, drink some tea, it'll help," she said, reaching for her cup.

As John started to lean forward, the robot shot her hand to the cup. "I will get it, John, you sit back." She used both hands to bring the cup to his, as though being careful not to spill any of the contents.

He smiled and thanked her while he reached for the cup.

The Librarian's finger let loose from the cup's handle as she offered it to him. When he took it though, her other hand went to the back of his.

She rested her hand on his for a moment. "Do you have it?" She smiled.

"Yes," he said.

She moved her hand, and he brought the cup to his lips. She continued to stare while he took a sip.

Sue brought her lip up in a snarl as she watched. She glared at the robot through narrow eyes. What was with the damn thing? It seemed too way attentive to John.

Sue continued to scowl at it while the robot took up the glass and proceeded to sip the water. John jarred her thoughts when he asked, "All right, we have the Librarian here, now what?"

Sue's eyes broke contact with the robot and turned to John. "I don't know, ask it. She's the one that said it could help by being here."

As John was turning to speak to the Librarian, a chime rang out. Someone was at the door.

*****

John thrust his head towards the door and then to Sue while she rose. Although he'd been safe in Sue's house, he couldn't shake off the fact that he was still wanted by the police. He took a calming breath as Sue said, "Just stay here. I'll see who it is first."

When she'd walked to the door and opened it a crack, Bechler said, "Hello again, may I come in?"

"Yes, of course." She opened the door wide and stepped aside to let him pass. "We were wondering what happened to you."

Bechler walked in. "I think I explained last time that we have our power rationed. It was cut off entirely after I got back."

Sue shut the door, and the two walked towards the living room. Bechler said hello to John, then turned to the Librarian. "Hello, I don't believe we've met."

"Hi," John replied. "This is . . ." He paused and looked at the Librarian. "Do you have an actual name?"

 "No, I do not," she said.

"We'll need to give you one then." He thought for a moment. "How about 'Jennifer'?"

"Is that a name you like, John?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Then I like it too."

He turned back to Bechler. "Vince, this is Jen."

Bechler raised a brow at the interchange, seeming puzzled but not questioning it. He walked towards her and extended his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Jennifer."

She took his hand. "It is nice to meet you as well."

Sue said, "Have a seat, Vince. We have a lot to discuss."

Bechler sat on the couch next to Jen, and Sue sat back in her chair. John listened while Sue explained all they'd done since seeing Bechler last. He let her do most of the talking, but every now and then added a few details. While he still had some trepidation about being fully open with Bechler, the agent may be his only hope of getting home. Not able to validate himself as someone from the United Earth Alliance, Jen wouldn't give up any significant information about shifting to help him. Therefore, he'd need to cooperate with Bechler as much as he could.

At first, Bechler protested that they'd used the quantum shifter. As Sue continued though, he became too interested in everything she told him to object further. When she told him about the activation of the robot, his mouth dropped open.

"So that's why she needed a name?" he exclaimed, his hand waving at Jen.  "Jen is a robot?"

John chuckled. "That was my reaction when I first saw her. I thought she was a woman. Then I noticed she was frozen in place and realized the truth when I examined her wrist."

Bechler looked at Jen. "Do you mind if I look too?"

"You may," Jen replied, holding her hand out to him.

He took her arm and scrutinized it while Jen sat there with a blank face. He looked at John for a second then back to her wrist. "How can you tell?" he asked, looking at John again. "She seems normal to me. You're not trying to play a trick on me, are you?"

John laughed again. It had been obvious to him, but Bechler needed to be shown. When he took Jen's arm, she smiled at John as though she enjoyed his contact. He knit his brows, but otherwise ignored it and examined her wrist. His eyes widened when he felt it. Her skin was as warm as any human's. There was a definite veining pattern where before there'd only been a hint. The smoothness he felt in the library was replaced by areas of hard and soft, giving the illusion of muscle and bone structure below.

He shook his head. "I don't get it. She's changed. Come and look at this, Sue."

"What changed?" Sue asked, coming to them.

"Just feel this."

John held Jen's arm towards her, the smile leaving the robot's face when Sue grabbed her wrist. Sue brushed her fingers across the surface. She went further and, like before, felt around her neck.

She flung Jen's arm down and looked at John. "You're right. It feels more human-like than before. It even has a pulse."

"What?" John exclaimed. Jen grinned as he felt her wrist and neck. At both, his fingers pulsed with the steady thrum like that from a heart pumping blood. He shook his head. Had someone replaced the robot with a woman? There was only one sure way to tell.

"Jen, show us the compartment where we put your power units."

She gazed into John's eyes as she lifted her shirt and exposed her breasts, her head tilting back and the corner of her lip turning up. Was she trying to entice him? Nonsense, it was only a machine. The seductive look on her face changed as she parted the skin to expose the two power bricks.

"Damn," Bechler said. "I thought for a minute you were playing a hoax."

Sue snarled, "All right, we've seen enough. Pull your top back down." She turned and plopped into the chair, letting out her breath.

"This is unbelievable!" Bechler said. "The technology used to create her is years ahead of ours."

"That's what we thought," John said. "The knowledge contained in the library computer could advance our technology by centuries. Can you imagine the danger if the wrong people get that information?"

Bechler's eyes shot to John, and he exclaimed, "That's what they're after!"

"Yep. The only thing we don't know is how it's tied in with the universe they're shifting the guns to."

"That's easy," Bechler said. "There were questions about the power usage on the shifting project. With as much gold as I suspect they've shifted back, they can pay for the power or bribe whoever it takes to cover up the usage."

"You're right," John said. It was so obvious. Why hadn't it occurred to him?

Sue asked, "Why wouldn't my uncle have found out about this?"

"I'm not sure," Bechler said, shrugging his shoulders. "From what you told me, we know some DAP personnel are involved. We just don't know how high up it goes. My guess is that the conspirators are changing accounting records for power usage just like they're altering computer logs on the quantum shifter. They could also be tampering with metering, paying someone to alter billing or shifting the billing to fake accounts. There are a hundred ways to work it. The person in charge of investigating this whole thing may not have turned over the right stones yet. Or maybe they're getting enough bribe money to look the other way. Believe me, with millions in gold, it's easy to find a way to keep this under wraps."

Sue nodded. "That's true, but where do we go from here with this? Do we go to my uncle now?"

"No," Bechler asserted. "I think your instincts were right. There's too much at stake here, and these people have a lot of money at their disposal. I don't think they'd hesitate one second to kill a high government official like your uncle. And they'd have the capacity to cover it up too. We need to find out who's involved and how high up this goes. First, I'd like to know who that fourth man was in the shifting lab that night."

John glanced over at Sue, who was staring at Bechler. He winced at the admiration her eyes seemed to show for the agent. Bechler was just the type of guy that women went for: dominant, attractive, smooth talkers. Maybe that was why he didn't like the man.

Despite this, he hoped he was wrong about his lack of faith in the agent. He was John's best hope of getting home to his job. If he were part of the conspiracy, John would never get back. Bechler's actions now would determine if he could be trusted or not.

Bechler, seeming to have reached a decision, looked up. "Okay, with the information you've given me, I'm sure I can convince my government of the security risk these conspirators pose. Once I've done that, I should be able to get the energy ration lifted and the manpower I need to commence a covert operation."

"What about the library computer?" John asked. "Is there any way you can protect it from them? Maybe put some guards there?"

Bechler nodded. "Yeah, that's not a bad idea. I should be able to set up an around-the-clock schedule so we have people there all the time."

"When you say a covert operation, what do you mean?" Sue asked.

"I have no authority here. I can't legally interrogate people, demand access to documents, or any of the other things I'd do in a typical investigation. Hell, it took us weeks just to find out your dad was the lead physicist on the project so we could start a dialog with him."

"What will you do then?" she asked.

"This type of operation requires a pretty heavy hand, but we'll still try to retain a low profile. We can start out a little slow and follow people around to find out where they go and who the players are. After that though, some of the things we'll have to do will be downright illegal. We'll have to break into offices and homes to get information. We'll try to hack into the computer systems at Gladstone to get records. We'll have to abduct some of the conspirators and see if we can get them to tell us anything."

John shuddered. "Once all that happens, they'll come after us, won't they?"

"You bet. Since we'll be using the barn as a base for the operation, it won't be safe here. We'll have to find somewhere to hide you until we have enough information to get Sue's uncle and other agencies in on this. Then they'll be able to protect you until it's over."

"How soon do you think all this will start?" Sue asked.

"It'll take me some time to get everyone convinced and then mobilized." Bechler put a hand to his chin. "I'd say a week at the earliest."

John turned to Jen, "Do you think your library computer can last a week before they're able to break into it?"

"I am not able to give you specifics on this for security reasons. However, I can tell you that they will not break into it in that time using their current methods."

"Good." He turned to Bechler. "In the time we have until you bring your people here, I want to try something that may get us some information."

"What's that?" Bechler asked.

"We might be able to find out who's behind this from Placidia."

"Placidia?" Sue said. "Why would he tell us anything?"

"I think I got him pretty excited about selling them more powerful weapons. If Vince can transport a mortar tube and shells to us, I might be able to get Placidia to babble like an idiot to get them."

"I might be able to get you one, but why would showing him a mortar make him talk?" Bechler asked.

"If I can show him that I can supply him with weapons instead of the conspirators then he won't have any problem giving them up."

"So you want to impress him with something bigger and badder than rifles and hand grenades."

"That's it," John said with a grin.

"That's fine, but how'll you approach him for the names of the conspirators? You can't just say, 'Here you go Placidia. Here's a mortar, now tell me who the conspirators are.' You have to give him a reason for giving up the names."

Damn it! Bechler was right of course. He hadn't thought it out far enough and would need a reason to give the consul for supplying the names.

Sue spoke up, "What if you told him that the conspirators were stealing the weapons from you, or something like that?"

"Yeah! That'll work," John exclaimed. "I can tell him I want to catch them, and I know who some of them are but not the leader. I'll say if he gives me his name, I'll discount the price of the weapons."

Bechler's brows knit together. "Alright John, I'll see what I can do about getting the mortar. I think it's a long shot, but I guess we should try it."

John grinned and could see by Sue's look she had confidence in his plan. Just wait until he proved Bechler wrong in front of her.

## CHAPTER 9

When John's head cleared, he saw Sue and Jen next to him. Jen seemed unaffected by the shift, but Sue was leaning against one of the alleyway walls. The bright colors of the local tunic she wore made his eyes feel like the optic nerves were being yanked backward into his skull. He looked down to make sure the weapons they shifted ahead of them were still there.

Bechler had gotten him the compact mortar tube and shells he asked for. He also sent one of his agents the day before to teach John their proper operation so he could give Placidia a demonstration. He felt in his jacket pocket to make sure he had the folding knives and matches he planned to trade for more clothes for Jen and Bechler's agents. He'd opted to wear his own clothes this time, and had given his tunic to Jen.

John took the mortar tube off the top of the box and put his arm through the shoulder strap. He pushed it around to his back as Jen lifted the box from the muck.

"Let's go." he said, and they started their walk to the street.

Like before, the local citizenry stared and pointed but, this time, it was from men enthralled by Jen. While her perfect looks were inevitably drawing stares, it was her hair that was the main attraction. They knew from previous trips that blonde hair was unknown here. It looked particularly resplendent in the bright sun with light rays glistening off the luminous highlights.

They continued to the market and purchased the needed clothes. They selected a tunic for Jen just as bright and offensive to John as Sue's was. When he said so, Jen grinned. When he traded the merchant one knife for ten tunics, he held his head high. He'd become quite the haggler.

They walked to another booth and purchased a white muslin veil with a purple silk circlet for Jen to conceal her flaxen hair. The headdress consisted of cloth bands that wrapped around her head and chin and a veil that flowed down her back. On top of this, a two-inch wide band of folded, purple silk encircled the crown of her head.

As Jen began to pin the cloth bands on, Cassius called to them. "Greetings, my Lord. I see you have brought another goddess from the heavens with you this time."

John looked Cassius up and down. He'd bought new clothes and cleaned himself up since their last visit. He'd apparently struck some deals with the goods they'd left him.

"Hello, friend Cassius. It is good to see you again. This is Jen," he said, motioning toward her.

"Indeed, my God, I do not know why you wish to come to our world when the heavens contain such beauty as the goddesses you bring."

"I am here to meet with Placidia again and demonstrate this weapon."

"Weapon you say? You are bringing weapons to that mongrel as well?"

John laughed, "Do not worry, I have no intention of bringing him more. I only wish to entice him with this so that he will tell us more about the others."

The old beggar shook his head, "He will tell you nothing. He is too clever to give the information you want until you have delivered all he wishes."

"You may be right, but I will try," John said. He pulled one of the knives from his pocket and handed it to Cassius. "Here is further payment for your services. Have you been following Placidia, as I asked?"

"Yes, Lord, as you asked."

"Have you found the names of the other gods who have been seeing him?"

"Yes, Lord, I have. I was able to get close enough on one occasion while he was talking to a god named 'Phil.' I was also able to buy the name of another, 'Franz,' from one of the palace guards who still speaks with me."

John shook his head. "We need more. Keep trying and see if you can find out the name of the leader."

"I will do as you ask, Lord."

"We will go to the Senate building and wait for Placidia now," John said.

"He will not be there today, Lord," Cassius said.

"Damn it," John said in English. In Latin, he asked, "Do you know where he will be then?"

"Yes, he is at the ceremony of the goddess, Metella. She is the goddess of the legion."

"I see. Where is this held?"

"Near the camp of the legion outside the city," Cassius said, pointing down the road.

"I will need you to take me there."

"Of course, Lord."

John turned to the women. "Let me tell you what he said."

Jen spoke up, "That is not necessary, I understood everything."

"You can speak Latin?" John asked.

"Yes, I downloaded that information from the computer before leaving the library," she said. "When you mentioned this universe contained a Roman province, I expected they would speak Latin as one of their languages. I downloaded it in anticipation of this."

"Well, then tell me," Sue snapped. "I sure didn't understand."

John explained while they walked down the road with Cassius leading. It was several miles to the camp, and they were able to see more of the city. To someone used to modern cities, this one seemed backward. Instead of the poor sections of town being near the center of the city, they were farther out. As they walked, the surroundings declined.

When they got to the outskirts of the city, it became evident that the empire was not as prosperous as it seemed at first. They entered a slum area, with hovels built from rotted scraps of wood, tree branches, busted up ox carts and any other scavenged items. A few dwellings were tents made of old blankets or rags sewn together. While the odor of decay and sewage had been foul throughout much of the city, it was far worse here. The density of humanity was increased tenfold.

"Who are all these people?" John asked. He glanced at Sue. Although her hand covered her nose to block the stench, she looked horrified. Jen seemed affected by the sight as well. While her face indicated no emotion, by the way her head darted about, it was a sight beyond her experience too.

Scratching his chin, Cassius looked back and forth. "Who? These people? They are citizens of the empire, Lord."

"I understand that, but why are they so poor?"

"Ah, they are not poor," said the old man, shaking his head. "Some are workers of the fields outside the city. Others are lower city laborers. Most are workers who have come to build the new imperial temple." His brows knitted. "They are not the unfortunate though. Most have food to eat every day."

"If they are not poor, then how much worse off are the poor?" marveled John.

"I am poor, Lord. I, and those like me, must beg to survive."

John's stomach turned when he heard this. Not to consider these people destitute was appalling. Had the wealth of his own society spoiled him so much that he was blind to what true deprivation could be?

As they walked, he recalled seeing pictures and television images of the shantytowns in developing countries in his universe. Had it been this bad? Worse, probably. It was one thing to watch a scene like this from the comfort of a home that would be a palace to those around him but quite another to be there in the flesh. They continued with John pushing the beggar to a faster pace.

When they topped the next hill, the legion's camp was before them. It sat in a broad, shallow valley, with the near end containing a fort. Its perimeter was an earthen mound with a stockade fence on top, and inside were stone and wood buildings. Centered on each of the four walls was a gate with watchtowers on either side. The center of the camp was lifeless, but the far end of the valley was swarming with people.

They walked from the hill and into the legion's encampment, the guards only nodding when they passed. Except for the sound of the distant ceremony conveyed on the breeze, it was silent while they strode through the aisles of deserted buildings. After the horrendous site of the city slum, John's stomach eased as he looked at the orderly buildings.

When they drew near the heart of the compound, worshipers congested the path as they started to filter in from the ritual. While the encampment had the look of a military base, the men had no such appearance. Military grooming and uniform weren't present in this army.

As the legion shuffled past, some men had shaved heads or short-cropped hair, while others were topped with long, scraggly manes. Many were muscled and sturdy of appearance, but others were gaunt and looked like they could be thrust aside with the brush of a finger. Several who were too plump to sprint at full charge on a battlefield even waddled past. The clothing they wore was only a variation of that seen on any city street, tunics of all colors and weave. This was not the disciplined and professional army of the ancient Roman Legion that had conquered the Mediterranean. This was a rabble.

Progress was slow as they pushed their way against the growing current of men, but soon they were in the field of the ceremony. With his height enabling him to see over those around them, John navigated the group towards a dais where Placidia was presiding. Alongside him was another man, who was both younger and more finely dressed than Placidia. He wore a white silk robe embroidered with golden thread and a gold headdress adorned with a plume of bright red feathers.

John asked Cassius, "The man next to Placidia, is that the emperor?"

Stretching onto his toes to see, the old man said, "Yes, that is him."

When they reached the dais, Placidia called down, "Greetings, friend John. Please come up and speak with me. I was beginning to think you had forgotten the demonstration you promised."

Jen put the crate down, and John placed the mortar tube on top of it. He told the others to wait, then turned and walked up the steps.

"I did not forget our promised meeting but was only delayed."

"Very good," said Placidia. He turned to the emperor. "Your Highness, may I present to you, John Fuller. He has a new, more powerful weapon to show us."

The emperor, Lucius II, nodded but seemed displeased. John bowed. "Your Highness, it is indeed a great honor to be in your presence and to show you the device which will bring further glory to your empire."

The intensity of Lucius' scowl deepened. It looked as though he didn't approve of John selling the weapons to Placidia, which fit with what Cassius had told him.

When John turned back to Placidia, the consul seemed amused by the interchange and grinned at him. The tension between the emperor and Placidia was profound. All but two of the other dignitaries excused themselves then hurried off, leaving only the palace guards waiting by the stairs. Placidia introduced the two that remained as the Minister of War, Claudius, and Legatus Ocella.

"May we examine the weapons you brought?" asked Placidia.

"With pleasure," responded John. While the emperor remained seated on the dais, the others descended the steps.

John lifted the mortar tube from the box. "This is the device I would like to demonstrate to you. As you can see, it is quite portable yet very powerful. To use it, you set it up like this." He unfolded its base plate, which snapped into place, then extended the bipod legs. "Once set up, you can adjust the range you wish to fire by adjusting the legs to different heights."

John went to the crate and opened it. He pulled out one of the shells. "This is what is fired from the tube. It is different from the exploding stones in size and design, but this makes it go farther and explode with greater force."

Placidia's eyes popped when he saw the shell. The larger size and weight foretold its greater power, and its sleek shape and fins protruding from the back gave the look of both speed and deadliness. The consul asked, "This can be thrown farther than the stones?"

"Much farther, Lord. If you would like, I can show you."

"Yes, I want to see it thrown. Now!"

John looked around the large field, which had emptied during his conversation with Placidia. It would be difficult to pinpoint the shells landing within it. Instead, he'd need to overshoot it and land somewhere safe beyond. He pointed away from the city, at a hillside lined with trees. "What is over there?"

"There is a forest beyond the hill, but you cannot hope to throw anything that far," Placidia shook his head. "Even our largest catapults could not shoot to the trees."

"Well, my Lord, while I can hit the trees, it would take several shots for me to hone in. It will be easier for me to shoot over them first."

He handed the shell to Cassius, picked up the mortar tube and began to walk from the podium. Everyone followed, except Jen, who stayed behind to guard the crate.

When John was about thirty yards from the ceremony stand, he put the mortar tube on the ground and adjusted it to shoot into the forest beyond the hill. He pointed to a safe distance from the tube and asked everyone to stand back.

"Operation of the device is quite easy. I drop the shell into the tube this way and . . ."

John ducked aside. He heard a metallic scrape while the shell descended then a loud thrum as it whooshed back out. He turned back, and the missile was descending toward the tops of the trees. When it hit, splinters of wood sprayed out, and a cloud of smoke billowed up. A second later, the concussion echoed back. The onlookers all gasped.

*****

Although Jen hadn't downloaded much information on military weapons from the library computer, she determined that this was a minor display of force. However, she could see by the reaction of Placidia and the other two military men that they were impressed. It seemed to be exciting more than Placidia though. A crowd was filtering back onto the field.

She hoped that John's plan would work and that he could get the needed information from Placidia. While she was still trying to decipher emotions, she felt compelled by strong potentials in her neural network to do whatever she could to help in his efforts. She could learn much from John. He knew a great deal about human emotions and how to interact with other people to his advantage. Placidia's reaction showed that he was as awed with John as she was.

John walked to Placidia. "Is this weapon not as powerful as I told you?"

"You did not exaggerate. It is more powerful and can throw much farther than I believed possible," said Placidia, an evil grin on his face. He looked back towards the forest. "You claim you can throw it closer as well. Can you hit the trees at the edge of the woods?"

"Yes. As I said, it may take a few shots for me to get the distance just right, but I can do it. I will need more shells though," he said, motioning for Cassius to follow.

As the two advanced towards Jen, the emperor was rising from his chair. While he'd stayed to watch the demonstration, the sour look on his face showed that he'd seen enough. He descended the stairs and was at ground level when the other two men reached the dais.

Cassius called out, "Greetings, my Emperor."

The emperor nodded acknowledgment with a scowl, but then his expression changed to a smile when he recognized the old man.

"Cassius. That is you, is it not?"

"Aye, my Lord, it is old Cassius. It does my heart good to know you remember me."

"Remember? How could I forget you or the other of my guards that were so loyal to me? Have you been well?"

"No, Lord, I have suffered greatly since leaving your service."

John interrupted in a low voice, "Cassius, explain to the emperor what we are doing here." He looked up at the palace guards, who were descending the steps. "See if he can assist us in any way."

John motioned to the emperor and Cassius to follow him, "Come, I need to get the mortar shells and get back to Placidia before he comes after me. Explain what we need, but do not let those guards hear."

"Aye, Lord, I will do as you say."

The three men closed the distance to Jen with the two guards following. As John approached, Jen smiled at him. While smiling was part of her base programming to present a friendly interface to humans, the compulsion in her neural network to exhibit pleasantries to John was increasing exponentially. The reasoning behind this was indeterminate, but she was continuing to analyze the associated data.

John smiled back at her with a nod as he neared the crate of mortar shells, grabbing it before turning and going back to Placidia.

The guards kept a respectful distance, enabling Cassius to explain John's plan to the emperor, who seemed skeptical.

 "Placidia is too smart to give any information to your friend." said the emperor.

Jen found herself becoming unhappy with these words, a mild dislike of the emperor building in network field strength. After further analysis, she determined he didn't know John and only had such a lack of faith because of it. If only he knew how smart John was, he wouldn't feel this way. A potential shifted in her neural network, and the dislike faded after reasoning it out.

"However," the emperor continued, "I can give you the information he needs. I met the leader of these so-called gods when he came to the city."

"Lord Emperor, please tell me his name," Cassius implored.

"I will give his name only if your friend can help me."

"What is it you wish, Lord?"

"I want your friend to get the empress and my children out of the palace and to safety, so I can kill Placidia myself."

The mandate to help John in his attempt to get the information increased in Jen's network. She said, "Why would we need to remove your family from the palace?"

The emperor puckered his lips. "Who is this woman, Cassius?"

"She is one of the two goddesses that came with the god John."

"A goddess." He snorted and looked at Jen. "And what are you called, goddess?"

"I am called Jennifer or Jen."

"Well, Jennifer, Placidia has control of the palace guard and has not allowed the empress or my children to leave its walls in over five years. He holds them there as hostages to keep me from telling the people of his crimes."

"Why does he let you out of the palace now?" Jen asked.

"I am only allowed to leave for ceremonies such as the one today and for certain government functions. He does not want to keep me totally isolated, or the people would become suspicious."

"Aye, there is much talk among the people already," Cassius threw in.

Jen nodded. "I see. This way he can claim you are not being held prisoner but keeps you in check in public through fear for the safety of your family."

Lucius agreed.

"You said you would kill him once your family has been removed from potential harm. Could you not kill him now?"

"No. There are those among the palace guard who are loyal to Placidia and have instructions to kill my family if anything should happen to him. If I did take the chance and kill him, I am not sure they would surrender without executing that order."

Cassius broke in, "Aye, Lord. I know some that are still there from when I was a guard. Several are as evil as Placidia and have done well by his rule. They would rather die than suffer retribution for the crimes they have committed. They would do as ordered before slicing their own throats."

As the emperor nodded at this, there was a loud concussion from another mortar. It had landed about twenty-five yards into the forest. Jen shifted her attention back to Cassius and considered what he'd said for a moment. Although her database contained many examples of the type of suicidal madness he described, she couldn't decipher it. She was beginning to grasp many human emotions and reactions, but some remained incomprehensible to her. There was much irrational thought within the minds of humans, and she would need to ponder this further at some point.

"How could we execute a plan to extricate your family?" she asked.

"I am not sure. That is up to you. I can only give you the location of my wife and children at any given time."

What further information was required for an operation such as this? She browsed through her database looking for the type of details needed to execute a rescue operation. She retrieved several examples and played them out in her mind, determining the most critical aspects of each.

"Do you know the strength and location of the guards within the palace?"

"Some, but much of that information I am not privy to."

Cassius spoke up. "I can tell you some numbers and procedures from when I was a guard, but I cannot guarantee that the same is done now."

"I need current information," she said to the old man. She turned back to Lucius. "Would it be possible for you to bring me into the palace so I may study its layout?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "If I attempted to bring you in, they would stop you. I am not allowed visitors except those approved by Placidia and, even then, he does not leave me alone with them because of his fears that I may plot with one of the legati or senators to overthrow his rule."

Jen furrowed her brows as she looked down the field to Placidia. "Why is he not stopping us from talking now?"

"He is drunk with the power of the weapons he sees and has forgotten me. He has left me in the charge of those two," he pointed a thumb towards the guards. "They dare not interfere with me too much in public for fear that my true status as prisoner will be discovered. They keep their distance as a normal imperial guard should."

"Lord, I have had a most devious thought," Cassius said, with a grin.

"What is that?"

"Would it not be possible to sneak the goddess into the palace as one of the courtesans?"

The emperor laughed. "Cassius, you surprise me. You would ask a goddess to do so lowly a thing?"

The old man's eyes widened when the realization of what he proposed sank in. He turned to Jen and fell to his knees. "Forgive me, Goddess. I did not mean to offend."

Jen shook her head. Why should his suggestion offend her? Again she referenced her database of human knowledge and found the answer. Although reproduction was a natural human function, there was powerful emotion surrounding the act of sexual intercourse, both positive and negative. While, in some human cultures, prostitution wasn't frowned upon, in most it was. It was considered immoral and degrading to be a party to it, but since Jen was still developing emotions, she didn't have a strong bias either way. Therefore, the potentials in her neural network didn't turn negative in response to Cassius' suggestion.

 "You did not offend me. I am quite interested to hear more of this idea."

Lucius choked off his laugh. "You would?"

"Yes." She took Cassius by the hand. "Please stand. You have not offended me."

Cassius rose when she pulled him up. "Thank you, Goddess. You and the god, John, have shown your greatness by being merciful to an old beggar such as me."

"Please tell me more about how you can get me into the palace."

*****

John adjusted the bipod of the mortar tube to set the firing range closer. He turned to grab another shell and saw his audience had swelled. Many soldiers had returned to the field to see what was causing the noise. Sue was in front of the crowd, standing next to Placidia, and she gave John a nod of encouragement. Her eyes showed the same confidence in him that she'd displayed the night in the lab.

He hoisted another shell and fed it into the end of the warm, green cylinder. He spun aside into a half crouch again as the mortar scraped down the wall of the tube and shot out, whistling downrange. He turned towards the target and smiled when the blast uprooted a small tree at the edge of the forest. John strutted back to Placidia amid the applause of the gathered spectators.

"Splendid, John!" cried Placidia. "I am amazed at how well you can control this weapon."

Now that the consul showed great enthusiasm, it was time to ask for information about the conspirators. John said, "As you can see, with a few shots, I can hone in on my target. Once I have, I can continue to send more shots to that same mark. I could batter the walls of a city under siege, and breach in minutes that which would take you weeks or months."

"Yes, yes, I can see that."

John grinned. "Is this not better than the weapons of my competitors?"

"Yes, friend John, my armies will be unstoppable. With this weapon, I will rule all lands here and regain those on the other side of the sea once held by the old empire." He looked at the minister and legatus, who were nodding enthusiastically. "We will be able to reunite the empire and extend it farther than ever dreamed of."

"I am gladdened by the possibilities I can give you with these weapons. Now that you have seen it, I am ready to set a price. I will supply each tube with twenty-five shells to start with and would like ten gold bars in return."

John had no intention of selling the consul anything. Haggling was necessary to keep the deception going.

"I can see why you wanted to show me this weapon before setting the price. It is very impressive but not for ten gold bars."

"I see. I think it is worth far more than that, considering you will increase the speed with which you can breach a city wall a hundred fold. However, I am interested to know what you think the worth of the weapon is."

Placidia furrowed his brows in feigned thought for a moment. "Considering you will sell me the rifles for one gold bar for each case, this weapon is worth five gold bars."

John shook his head. "I cannot get them to you at that price. I am willing to give you a better price for a favor though."

Placidia raised his brows. "A favor? What favor can I do?"

"There is something I have not told you about my competitor."

"What is that?"

"They are getting their weapons from us," John said, the tension building in his muscles. The story he told Placidia now would determine if the consul would give him any information.

"From you?"

"Yes, they are not buying them though, they are stealing them."

"Stealing them? What do you mean?"

"I am employed by the one who builds the weapons," John said. "The same builder also employs the men who have been selling them to you. Many weapons have disappeared, and I have the task of finding out where they are. I found they have been sold to you."

"So you are after the ones who have been selling me the weapons?" asked Placidia. "If this is so, why did the men chase after you the first day I saw you?"

"They wished to stop me from reporting back to my employer. I know some of the men involved but need to find out the leader so I can stop him. My employer is pleased he has a buyer for his weapons and will supply all you wish. However, he wants to see the profit from this sale instead of having those who he employs steal him blind."

"I see," said Placidia.

The consul looked doubtful. John quickly added, "This is the reason they have not been able to supply you the number of guns you have asked for. They are unable to steal too many at one time or risk being caught. I have learned much in my investigation but am still without the name of the leader of the thieves."

"This is all a great surprise to me. In what way do you think I can help?" asked Placidia.

"All I ask is the name of the leader. In return, I will sell you the rifles at the price I quoted, and I will get you a better price on the stone thrower. I am sure that my employer will come as close to your price as he can."

Placidia shook his head. "I am sorry, John. I will not be able to help you with this. I do not know his name. I have only dealt with Phil, the man you saw with me that first day."

John's heart dropped. Placidia was lying, but he couldn't push any further. It was evident the consul didn't want to give up his source without being certain John could deliver the weapons as promised.

He glanced at Sue. Disappointment in him was plastered on her face, as though she knew what had just happened even without understanding Latin. Although getting the information was critical to their investigation, showing up Bechler had become almost as important to John.  He wanted Sue to have the same confidence in him as she did in the agent, and succeeding in this plan would've done that. His heart sank further. He'd failed in both.

For a time, John continued the ruse of bargaining for the mortars so as not to raise Placidia's suspicion, but it was a struggle to maintain his composure now that they'd return to Bechler no closer to discovering the identities of those involved.

*****

"I'm so sorry, Sue," John said.

They were in Sue's kitchen while she prepared dinner for the two of them, Jen sitting by in silence. Sue slipped the broiler pan of steaks into the oven and gave the potatoes another poke with her fork before closing the door.

"John, will you stop?" This was about the tenth time he'd said this to her since returning. "I keep telling you that you didn't let me down. You tried, and that's all anyone can ask."

She didn't fault him. The plan had nearly worked. Placidia had gotten excited, just not enough to make him talkative. They both knew the plan was a long shot before they set out. She'd already told him that several times, but he kept apologizing anyway.

He looked into the glass of wine on the counter in front of him. "Maybe if I'd said something different or come up with a better story it would've worked."

"I doubt it. I think we underestimated Placidia. It was our own arrogance."

He looked up from the goblet. "What do you mean?"

"Just because their technology is behind ours doesn't mean they're simple or stupid. Placidia didn't take control of the empire by being dumb. He's sneaky and devious, and expects everyone else to be that way too." She sat down on a stool across from him and continued, "We're honest people, John, and it isn't easy for us to play on the same level as him. Don't ever apologize for being a good person."

He shrugged. "I just know I could've done better."

He was frustrated and angry, but she didn't know what more she could say to ease his mind. He grumbled, "I guess we're back to waiting for Bechler then because I sure don't know what to do next."

Jen spoke up, "I know."

Sue shot a glaring look at the robot. The machine had been quiet since returning, and she liked it better that way.

John asked, "You know what to do?"

"While you were giving the demonstration to Placidia, you asked Cassius to tell the emperor about our desire to stop the conspirators."

John sat up straight. "I forgot about that. Did he tell Cassius something we can use?"

"The emperor said that he met with the leader of the conspirators but would not give us his name."

"Why not?" John asked.

Jen told them of the conversation with the emperor.

"How does he expect us to fight off all the guards to get in there and then just waltz out with his wife and kids?" Sue snapped.

"He said he did not know how. Because of our weapons, I think he believes this would be easy for us."

John shook his head. "He's wrong. I have no idea where to begin with something like that. There are dozens, maybe hundreds, of men we'd have to get past to free them."

Sue looked at him. "Maybe if Vince got enough men transported there, he could."

John's face twisted into a scowl. "Yes. Well, I'm sure the great Mr. Bechler could do it. Hell, I'm sure he could've gotten the information from Placidia too."

 "That is doubtful, John," Jen said. "I do not think Placidia would give that information until he was sure he could get weapons from another source."

John looked down towards his glass. "I don't know. I guess you're right."

Sue went to check on the steaks, grumbling under her breath. He ignored her affirmation, yet one word from the robot and he agreed.

Jen said, "I believe the next step is to scout the palace to determine the strength and location of the guards."

"That's something Bechler will have to do," John said.

"I do not think so. I am in the best position to do this," Jen said.

As Sue listened to the robot, she pulled out the oven rack with a shrieking scrape and stabbed hard at the first piece of meat. Its pink liquid hemorrhaged out in a stream as she flipped it to the other side, yanking it hard as though it were the robot's neck.

"Why would you be in the best position?" John asked.

"Cassius suggested I gain access to the palace by disguising myself as a courtesan."

"What do you mean?" John asked.

"At least once a week, women are brought into the palace for various social functions that are held there. They are there for the pleasure of the government officials and wealthy men that attend."

Sue pushed the rack into the oven with a loud screech and banged the door shut. She turned to John, and there was a puzzled look on his face. "She means they bring in prostitutes for their weekly orgy." She looked at Jen, her scowl deepening. "So you propose we dress you up like a whore and sneak you into the palace?"

"That is correct."

Sue snorted, "That's a good one."

John perked up. "That's not a bad idea." He paused for a moment then said, "The only thing is you'd need to break away from the group before . . . you know . . ." His face turned a light crimson.

Sue snatched at her glass of wine. "He means you wouldn't be able to perform your duty as a prostitute." A smile curled up at the edge of her lips as she masked it with a sip of wine.

"While I was not designed for that function, I am anatomically correct and was constructed for all such contingencies."

Sue dropped her smile and glared at the machine. "Really." She glanced at John, and his blush was in full bloom now.

Jen continued, oblivious to both their reactions, "My plan would be to get one of the dignitaries alone and stun him to unconsciousness. I would then be free to roam the palace and map out all corridors and the locations of sentries."

 "Why not just pair up with the emperor and have him give you a tour of the building?" John asked.

Jen raised an eyebrow. "That may be a better plan. I will discuss this with the emperor once there. While he said they do not let him access all locations, he may be able to get me into some areas."

"Do you know when the next party is?" John asked.

"Yes, in three days. We will need to meet with Cassius before then to finalize the location where I will integrate with the other courtesans. I also need to purchase appropriate clothing."

Sue ground her teeth together imagining what that might look like. The way the robot's normal clothes clung to her was revealing enough. Every man who'd come across her practically slipped on his own drool upon seeing her. Sue shuddered at the thought of what they would do if the damn thing were dressed like a prostitute.

"All right, we can go tomorrow," John said.

"I would also like to return to the library to pick up my particle gun."

John's brows furrowed. "What's that?"

"It is a weapon which emits a stream of highly charged particles."

"That sounds pretty lethal," John said.

"It can be adjusted to different intensities to allow varying levels of destruction. At low settings, it causes a concentrated heat which will burn human skin, and at high settings, it will vaporize matter into high-temperature plasma."

"Wow!" John exclaimed. "So we can use it like a gun to take out guards or turn it higher to blast a hole in a door or wall."

"That is correct."

"How many of these do you have?"

"I have only one at the library, and it is a lower-power unit only able to go through wooden doors or low-density walls at its highest setting. However, we may be able to get larger models at the police armory on the outskirts of the city."

"We can?" John exclaimed. "Great! They'll be helpful when we go back for the empress."

Sue, who'd been staring at her wine glass, snapped her eyes to John. "What do you mean when we go back for the empress?" she demanded.

"Well, if Jen can get enough useful information on her reconnaissance trip, we should be able to pull it off."

"We can't do that. It would be suicide. Besides, when did you get to be so heroic anyway?"

"What do you mean?" John asked, his eyes narrowing. "You're the one who's been pushing all along to find out who these people are." His face took on a look she hadn't seen before. There was anger there, but something else too. He went on, "Now I want to move forward, and you're saying I'm doing it to look heroic? What do you want from me?"

"Of course I want these people to pay, but that doesn't mean I want us killed in the process either."

He calmed a bit. "Fine then. All I said was if Jen can get us good information, and it looks like it's doable, then we should try a rescue."

"All right, just so we're clear, if she finds out the place _is_ a fortress, we don't go."

"I didn't say that either! I think we can assume the place is a fortress. The question is whether there's a way for us to breach that fortress, which will give us a high probability of success."

"A high probability of success!" Sue fumed. "You're starting to sound like that damn machine now. Listen. If she wants to risk her titanium neck, it's no skin off my nose. That doesn't mean we have to, though."

John looked up at the ceiling for several seconds. When he looked back down at her, he said with a forced calmness, "Can we just drop this whole discussion for now? Let's just agree for Jen to go and see what she can find out. We can discuss everything else afterward."

"Fine," Sue said. She wrenched herself off the stool, its feet grating across the floor as she shoved it back. "Dinner is done anyway."

*****

The air-car floated off the ground. As it glided away from the library, the tall grass around it was undisturbed, as though the vehicle were not even there. When it gained altitude, the craft accelerated at a faster pace. John, who was sitting in the front passenger position, could feel his body sink farther into the memory foam seat. When it had risen to around fifty feet, it took off forward like a shot, now sinking his back into the seat.

"Wow, this thing can move," John said, his voice shaking.

It was the next day, and only John and Jen were in the craft. Sue had stayed behind because of a headache. They were heading towards the deserted city on their way to the police armory to get the high power particle guns Jen had mentioned the night before.

After entering the library, they saw the conspirators' laptop still connected to the master computer. They apparently hadn't  cracked into the computer yet but hadn't given up either. John pulled on the interface cable that connected the two machines and laughed when a communications error pop onto the laptop screen. He left the connector half in place to make it appear it had come loose by itself. There would be some cursing on the part of the conspirators when they blamed each other for the foul-up. It wouldn't stop them, but at least it would buy another day.

After getting the particle gun from Jen's desk, she took him to a lower level of the facility to an air-car parked in an underground garage that was separate from the main building. The garage itself was an elevator. As it ascended, a roof overhead supported a five-feet-thick layer of dirt covered in grass. This camouflage explained why he hadn't noticed the elevator before.

Never having been too keen on flying, John's stomach turned when air-car's acceleration increased further. While he'd been in commercial jets for business trips plenty of times, he preferred to avoid them whenever possible. This was even more intense. While it was a smoother ride because the vehicle seemed to float on the air, he felt more exposed than in a plane. The door was much thinner and the glass was only a single, thin pane. Also, with its lower flying altitude, the ground flew past in a blur. He looked out the side window. It felt as though his body was sailing through the air. He turned forward to quell an urge to vomit.

 "For starting out so slow, we sure are going fast now."

Jen looked at him from the driver's seat. "To begin with, we rise from the ground on a diamagnetic field, which overcomes the effects of gravity. As we gain altitude, a plasma jet fires and gives forward acceleration."

"I see," John said, his stomach settling after adjusting to the movement.

As the air-car sped forward, it continued to gain altitude and soon provided a better view of the city they were approaching. On their previous trip, he and Sue could only see the tops of the taller buildings. Now, a wide vista of destruction was visible. Even at this distance, the number of burned-out building hulks and remnants of foundations were so great they filled the horizon.

As he stared at the devastated metropolis, Jen interrupted his thoughts. "John, why do you think Sue does not like me?"

"What? Oh, I don't know that she doesn't like you. I think you're just different from anyone she's ever known, so it's hard for her."

"You do not have this problem?"

"No, I don't. As a matter of fact, I find it easier to talk to you."

"You do? Why is that?"

"I don't know. I hadn't thought about it." He reflected for a moment and said, "I guess it's because I'm not very good at socializing with people."

"So you do not consider me a person?"

The look on her face was almost pained, but he brushed the thought aside. He was reading too much into her expressions.

"Well, I do, and I don't."

"I do not understand."

As he considered his next words, he gazed into her ultra-dark eyes. Maybe he'd been wrong to think there was nothing behind her facial expressions. Was there a spark of sentience in those deep orbs? Wasn't she demonstrating this by asking why Sue didn't like her?

He said, "I can't help but think of you as human. The way you look, the way you talk, the thoughts you express, are all very much human. At the same time, you're different."

"In what way am I different?"

He looked toward the desolate cityscape. "People think I'm odd, and I've always been a social outcast because of it." His gaze shifted back into her eyes. "I'm not afraid you'll judge me that way, so I find you very easy to be around."

Her lips eased into a smile. "That is good. I understand what you mean. I have many examples of this type of human behavior in my memory. That is in fact why I asked the question about Sue. It seems as though she has evaluated me and found me unsatisfactory in some manner."

"Don't worry," he said with a smile. "I think she'll come around after she gets to know you better. Sometimes people make a snap decision about something but change their mind once they find out more."

"This is true." She hesitated for a moment then asked, "John, do you find me attractive?"

"Most men would call you extremely attractive."

"I know this. I was designed to the specifications of what the average human male would consider appealing." She turned her eyes towards the air-car control surface, seeming to check over its readouts. "My question is do _you_ find me appealing?"

As John began to respond, her head snapped back towards him, appearing to hang on his every word.

"Well . . . yes, you're perfect in every way. The first time I saw you, I thought you were the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen."

"And you still consider me so?"

"Uh, yeah." His brows furrowed as he shifted his body in the seat. "Why is it so important that I find you good-looking?"

"I have noticed in my study of human behavior that much of the attraction between men and women is physical in nature."

"Yeah, I suppose that's true, at least to begin with. It's the first thing you notice about the opposite sex, but it's more complicated than that." He squirmed in the seat again. "You still haven't answered my question though. Why do you want to know if I find you attractive?"

"I am attempting to determine your feelings towards me."

"Why do you want to know how I feel about you?"

"Because I love you, John, and I want to know if you love me too."

*****

Sue took a sip from the warm cup of spicy chai before placing it back on the saucer. She shifted her body around until she was almost sideways in the chair and reopened the book she'd been reading.

It had been days since she'd been able to relax like this: curled up in her favorite chair, reading a good book. She'd decided to reread one of her father's favorite Asimov books, _The Caves of Steel_. She was totally absorbed as R. Daneel Olivaw launched himself onto the moving sidewalk when her doorbell chimed.

"Damn it," she cursed, caressing the book as she placed it back in its spot on the table. The bell rang again when she reached the door and opened it to Bechler's smiling face.

"Hi, Sue," he said in his normal pleasant tone.

"Hi, Vince," she said, motioning him in. "What's the good word?"

The smile left his face. "Unfortunately, I don't have one."

She rolled her eyes. "Great, just what I wanted to hear." She led him to the living room "Would you like some tea?"

"No thanks," he said, sitting on the couch. "It could be worse. They've given me a higher energy ration but not enough to do what we need."

"So what'll we be able to do?"

"I'm here as much as I need to be, which is good. Beyond that, depending on the equipment that needs to be sent here, I'll be lucky to send another agent."

"You know, I've been thinking about the energy usage," Sue said, picking up her teacup. "Since I'm not under any restrictions as far as electrical power goes, why can't we use the machine in the barn to transport equipment and people over? I can send containers to you. Then we can fix the people and equipment to this quantum state once they're here."

"I already suggested that to my superiors, but they turned the idea down."

"Why?"

"They're paranoid. They don't want the coordinates of my universe programmed into the machine at all. They're afraid the conspirators will find out where our universe is, and they want to stay hidden at this point."

"Well that's crazy," Sue replied. "They're afraid of a few crooks transporting over? You have a whole government and military they'd come up against."

"I know. But they said there's no evidence that your government isn't behind this. If they are, we could come under a full attack sometime in the future."

"That's even crazier! You don't think there's a risk, do you?"

"At this point, it remains a remote possibility. It doesn't matter what I think anyway. I'm paid to dig up the facts and solve the problems. They're paid to think paranoid thoughts. Since my facts can't dispel their paranoia, they win."

"All right, I guess we just have to play it their way then."

"Yep, but when I send anything over, we'll use minimal power to transport it. Then we'll use the machine on this side to fix it here or relay it to another universe."

"Good, that should help."

Sue explained all that had happened since they last saw Bechler: their inability to trick Placidia, the emperor's discussion with Cassius, Jen's plan to scout the palace, and the trip John and Jen were on to get particle guns.

Bechler said, "Jen will be a great help to us. It'd be tough for me to get a female agent here who could do half the job she can."

"I guess."

"She'll be able to draw us detailed plans of the layout and guard positions from memory. Hell, there might even be a way to tap into her so she can print out pictures too."

"Maybe," Sue said, the scowl on her face growing.

"What an incredible machine she is."

Sue let out her breath. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know!"

"Whoa!" Bechler said holding up his hands. "What are you so touchy about?"

"I don't trust the damn thing."

"Why not?"

"It's always so nice and polite, and it seems like it's trying to butter John up all the time. It's like a person who smiles and compliments you while they jam a knife in your back."

"I see. Don't you think you're reading too much into its actions? After all, it's only a robot."

"Yeah, I know," she said, with a sigh. "I keep telling myself that, but it still gets under my skin. I've known people that were phony like that in the past, and they were always backstabbers."

"I know what you mean. In my business, you run across people like that often. I never trust anyone if they seem to have an artificial façade. But Jen is only a machine."

"You're probably right," Sue said. "Let's not talk about her anymore. I need to talk to you about something else anyway."

"What's that?"

"John and I got into an argument about going after the empress. I think it's a suicide mission myself. There could be a hundred guards, and he seems too anxious to go up against them all."

"John?" Bechler's eyebrow rose. "He didn't strike me as the reckless type."

"He never was before, but in the last few days, he's changed."

"Didn't he want Jen to reconnoiter before going on a rescue mission?"

"Well, yeah, he wanted Jen to go," Sue said reluctantly. She quickly added, "But he seemed to want to go, no matter what she found. It was only after I questioned the sanity of it that he backed down."

"So he agreed to have her go first then?"

"Um, yeah," she said, with hesitation.

"I wouldn't be too concerned at this point then. It would be foolhardy to rush in with no information, but as long as he's willing to wait . . ."

He was right again. She was overreacting to this and the Jen thing. It was just that John was getting more reckless since Jen came along. He was sticking his neck out to impress her.

"All right," Sue said. "I won't worry for now, but if anyone goes in there, it should be you. After all, you're the one who's trained for this sort of thing."

A shy smile came to his face. "That's true, but I can't do it all myself either you know. I'm going to need help from both of you."

"You'll have it. I think John and I are both committed to seeing this thing through but, for something like this rescue, you and your guys need to handle it."

"Given the situation, that's not going to happen."

"You don't think you'll be able to get enough agents here to do it then?"

He shook his head. "No, I won't. That's another reason why this rescue is critical." He frowned as he continued. "Normally, I'd want to bring in a sizable crew to do research, follow suspects around and infiltrate the conspirator organization. In this case, we can't do any of that. We don't have the time or resources available, so we'll have to take shortcuts."

"Shortcuts?" repeated Sue. That sounded risky.

"Oh, I don't mean anything drastic. The information we can get from the emperor is what I mean. I've been involved in operations in my universe where it can take months or years to find out who the key people are. With this one operation, we may be able to expose the head of this group in a single blow."

"I see what you mean."

"That's why it's critical to do this, even if I can only bring one other agent along."

Sue widened her eyes. "One other agent? Do you think that's the best you'll be able to do?"

"I'm afraid it may be. The key thing in an operation where you have a small group infiltrating a guarded location like this is getting good intelligence up front and then creating a plan that can be executed with precision." He paused for a moment. "Before we get too far in planning this rescue though, let's have Jen do her thing."

Sue bit her lip in thought. That's the problem. What is Jen's thing?

*****

"What?" John exclaimed, his jaw dropping and eyes bulging.

"I said I love you, John, and I want to know if you love me too."

"I heard you, but . . ."

John's heart was fluttering. He'd never expected anything like this when she started her questions! Her programming was complicated, but there was a depth to her that far exceeded anything he imagined possible for artificial intelligence.

He previously wondered whether she was sentient. Now that no longer even seemed a valid question. If she could experience love, then she was, by definition, a sentient being. Or was she? Could there be something in her program that was simulating this reaction? Was there a way to tell?

He gazed into her dark, questioning eyes. "Why do you think you love me?"

"You have been kinder to me than any person I have ever known. All others who know my true nature have treated me as inferior because I am not human. You talk to me as an equal and ask my opinion on matters."

"You love me because I'm nice to you?"

"Yes, in part."

"You have other reasons then?"

"Oh yes, many," she said, with great enthusiasm. Although she often showed the facial expressions of emotion, he'd never taken them as genuine feelings. They were most likely only programmed expressions to enhance her interaction with people. In contrast, her voice had always seemed somewhat flat of emotion. Yet when she spoke her last words, there was an excitement in her voice that he'd never heard from her before.

"I find you very handsome, John." There was now a spring in her movement that expressed a happiness of thought. While her normal movements were not stiff or artificial, they were measured and purposeful, never this dynamic. Something had changed. Her voice and movements had become like those of a young teenage girl in love for the first time.

"You think I'm good looking?" he asked, blushing.

"Oh yes. I have made a comparison of your appearance to that of all male faces within my internal database. I find you compare favorably on numerous parameters." Her brows knitted together. "Beyond this though, I find that I prefer the appearance of your face to those of all others. This is despite the many examples with specifications that match better to those considered ideal for a human male. I have put much thought into the reason for this but have not been able to determine why this is so. I am still analyzing the data, though."

John sat in silence, not knowing how to respond. This was a new experience for him in so many different ways. He'd never had anyone tell him he was attractive before, even Rita. When they first dated, she once said he looked good dressed in some new clothes she bought him. However, he'd taken this to mean the clothes, not him. Jen was saying that _he_ was attractive.

 He gazed back at Jen and her beautiful, young face. With the way she was acting and her flawless complexion, it wasn't hard to imagine her as a teenage girl. Likewise, it wasn't hard to image himself a teenage boy again and them driving to a movie in her parents' car. He had the urge to ask her to park so they could make out, but that was ridiculous of course. He wasn't a teenage boy anymore, and she wasn't a teenage girl, either. She was a robot.

Jen became talkative again, more so than ever before. She continued, "I wish to be with you whenever I can and find that when I am not, I spend many processing cycles contemplating you. My thoughts are distressed when you are not with me. I have odd mental images that something may happen to you, and I will never be with you again." Her head cocked, and she added, "Again, I do not know why I fear for your safety, but I will continue to analyze this as well."

She continued, a bright smile coming back to her face. "Unfortunately, I am not a biological entity so do not have feelings sexual in nature towards you. However, I will assist you with any desires you have towards me, and in fact am anxious to experience this with you nonetheless."

John's face burned a bright crimson. "Okay, okay, I get the idea."

The air-car slowed and then came to a halt, hovering in place over a building.

She glanced out the window and then back to him. "I can go on with further examples if you wish, but we have arrived at our destination."

*****

John looked around at the demolished site. The offices of the armory building they were in looked like the scene of a battle. The smashed glass of the entrance doors they passed through left the interior exposed to the wind and rain. The grime and decay indicated the ruin had happened a long time ago. Much of the carpet he walked across had rotted, leaving only the occasional black moldy scraps to tell of its once-luxurious composition. Shattered desks in cubicles spoke of attackers rummaging through them to find the secret of gaining access to the weapons contained below.

"The stairwell is around that wall," Jen said, pointing to the right of where they'd entered.

By her information, the weapons were stored on a lower level they could access by elevator or stairway. The light coming through the front entrance was dim on this side of the wall, so he clicked on the flashlight Jen had given him. He swung the beam of cold blue light to each door, and there was evidence of previous attempts to break into the lower level. Pry marks scarred the elevator doors where they met, and deep gouges marred the stairwell door where the latch would be.

"John, I will need your assistance."

Jen walked to the stairwell door and seized a small, gray box off the floor. He held the light while she examined several cut wires protruding from it. The ghost of an outline on the wall hinted where the device once hung, a rainbow of colored wires dangling from it.

Jen said, "It looks as though someone attempted to bypass the lock by shorting the wires together." She held the cube towards him. "Please hold the reader. I will need to rewire it."

He continued to shine the light with his left hand and grabbed the reader with his right, holding it close to the wall so she could work.

John raised an eyebrow when she stripped the insulation from the wires with only the nails from two fingers pinched together.

"Let us hope they did not damage the circuitry," Jen said, glancing at him with a smile.

Her eyes went back to her work as she twisted all the like-colored wires together, separating each conductor to prevent a short. When she connected the last pair, the face of the box came to life with a deep blue radiance. Jen waved her hand in front of the reader, and a low groan came from the doorframe.

"Excellent," Jen said. "The motorized latches still function."

When the whirring stopped, she opened the door. "You may let the reader hang there now. Come."

John followed her through the door. They were in total darkness but for the small circle of light from the flashlight. A heavy mold smell enveloped him as they descended the smooth concrete steps, making his nose prickle and chest tighten. The odor sparked a memory, and his mind returned to the day of the asthma attack in his grandmother's basement. He took deep breaths to calm the fear it triggered and to fight the heaviness in his chest.

When they reached the first landing, John's foot slid on the damp slimy surface. He wrenched forward to keep from falling back and threw a hand to the wall for balance. His head swimming from the sudden jar and the sharp tang of mold in his nostrils, he paused for a moment to subdue the dizziness.

As she turned the corner to descend the next flight of stairs, Jen caught his distress. "Are you all right, John?"

"Uh huh. A little dizzy from the mold smell though."

"Do you wish for me to bring you back to the main level?"

"No, no, I'll be okay. Let's go," he said, walking towards her.

She continued to give him an uneasy look before turning and starting her descent again. Two more flights down and they reached the bottom.

Jen waved her hand before another reader, this one intact, and the mechanism whirred to life. When she opened the door, the lights within snapped to life. He squinted against the brightness before trailing behind.

Although large, the room seemed tight from the hundred-foot-long rows of bulky weapons cabinets. The rows ran perpendicular to the wall with the door he was entering so only the length of a single row ahead was visible.

John continued into the room and walked past the edge of the closing door. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a man standing to his right. Air rasped into his lungs as he gasped and his head shot around to see who it was. Jen, who'd gone left when she came in the room, spun around 180 degrees on her heels. Her arm snapped up with her gun in hand, but she didn't fire. Several heavy breaths later, it was apparent the man was unmoving, his face and head charred on the right side. It looked to be an old wound that had probably been inflicted centuries ago during a battle on the upper level.

"It is a robot," Jen said.

Through panting breaths, John said, "Yeah, I didn't realize it at first."

"It appears to be damaged." She walked to the niche it stood within and examined its head. "I believe it has been hit by a low-energy particle beam weapon."

"If a low energy one can burn like that, I'd hate to see what a high-energy one would do."

"There would no longer be a head on the unit," she said in a passionless voice.

"Okay," he said, not having expected an answer.

"It was intended to guard the weapons," she said, walking away from it. "It will not hinder us. It is no longer functioning."

"Good," he said, eyeing her. "After seeing what you can do, I wouldn't want to tangle with it."

Jen walked past John and continued to a flat screen on the wall fifty feet from the door. While he followed, he kept his head turned right to look down the length of each row as he passed. All were a monotonous replication of the previous: gray cabinets with a double set of three-foot wide doors.

When they reached the screen, he asked, "What is it?"

"This is the security system interface. I will be able to unlock the cabinets from here."

"Good," he said, watching her fingers fly across the touch surface. "Do you think any of the weapons will work after all this time?"

"While I believe there will have been some degradation, most should still function."

As John wheezed through an open mouth, Jen entered a long series of alphanumeric characters into the panel. A faint beep sounded each time her finger pressed the screen, giving the entry a musical quality. She was entering a security key probably obtained from the library computer.

"There," Jen said when she finished. "We should now be able to open the cabinets."

They went to the closest cabinet, and Jen clutched the handle, turning it up and pulling out. John stood near the corner of the cabinet, able to see down the long row and back to the entrance they had come through. When the creaking door swung near him, John raised an eyebrow at the thickness of the dense composite material. It was a good thing Jen knew the code. Having to cut or drill their way in would've been near impossible. When the door swung out of the way, it exposed the shelves, which contained helmets instead of guns. Before he could comment, a siren blared out.

John shot his head from side to side. The wail seemed to be coming from everywhere. He was looking back towards the entrance door when his eye caught the robot turning within its niche. It pulled something from a compartment alongside itself and began shuffling towards him, its right foot dragging along behind.

"Shit!" he rasped out. "That damn thing's moving!"

Jen's head shot around the side of the cabinet to look. She shoved John back with her right hand and grabbed the cabinet door with her left. The automaton was raising its weapon as Jen swung the thick door around the corner.

There was a loud crack when a charge from the robot's particle gun hit the opposite side of the door. A glowing orange circle with a white-hot center bloomed on the surface and smoke from the partially vaporized door burned into John's eyes. His heart skipped and then pounded a furious beat. If Jen hadn't swung the door around to protect him . . .

"Run!" she cried, grabbing his hand and yanking him towards the opposite end of the cabinet row.

His chest buzzed like a chainsaw as he gulped in air through his wide-open mouth. His breathing, already labored, became unbearable with the exertion. He forced one foot after the other though to keep Jen's powerful tug from dragging him along.

They'd reached the end of the row when they heard the heavy thud of the cabinet door slamming shut. In her haste, Jen spun around the corner too sharply, pulling John towards the hard edge of the last locker. His hand still grasping the flashlight, he stumbled around the turn and pushed off the corner with his knuckles to keep his body from impacting it.

There was a loud sizzle followed by a blast of hot mist when a layer of the plasticized concrete wall to his right vaporized with another shot from the robot. The fog of cement burned into his lungs as John gulped in air to supply his now woozy brain.

Jen stopped when they reached the next aisle. "I must locate a weapons locker." She opened the closest and, seeing it contained body armor, closed it again.

John hissed, "Gun." He pointed to the weapon from the library at her side.

She looked down at it. "It is not powerful enough to stop the guard robot." Her eyes shifted to the far end of the cabinet row. "I will need to use a high-power particle gun."

She glanced back at John's face for a split second and then away. Her gaze snapped back to him, and her eyes widened. His condition was declining.

"I must go back to the computer terminal and search for a layout of the lockers. You do not appear as though you will be able to make it that far, so I must carry you."

John shook his head and eked out through his gasps, "No . . . I'll . . . hide . . ." He pointed at the ends of the rows of lockers.

He would continue down the aisle to the last row and hide there. He was useless in his condition, and carrying him would only slow her down. The only way to stop the guard was for her to find a weapon, and searching through every locker would take far too long. Their best chance was for her to get to the terminal and locate the right cabinet.

Jen's head jerked back and forth several times in apparent indecision, but then she said, "Very well, hurry."

She turned and sped down the aisle faster than he thought possible, the graceful curves of her body like that of a gazelle. He turned and stumbled as fast as he could down the ends of the rows. His strength waning, he was only able to continue by throwing his body weight forward.

Although heading for the last row, after passing the ends of several, he couldn't continue. He got to the next aisle and fell around its corner into a heap on the ground. The pungent reek of mold was now heavy in his nose, which was a mere inch off the musty floor. Its stench was so overpowering, he could taste the bitterness on his tongue. So they weren't visible around the corner, he tucked in his legs and waited, hoping he'd gained enough time.

At first, the only sound was his own heavy wheeze. A scraping noise rose above it when the dragging foot of the robot approached. He tried to control his breathing so it wouldn't hear him, but his head began to spin. When he couldn't stand it any longer, he gasped for air that much louder.

The scraping foot echoed as the robot advanced, the hollow scuff ringing as it bounced from the hardened cabinet doors. John's exhaustion made it impossible to rise, so he remained crumpled on the floor, giving in to death's inevitability. He closed his eyes, not wishing to know the exact moment when it came.

It arrived with a loud crack and a high-pitched sizzle as a rain of hot metal burned onto his face. His stinging cheek made it plain he wasn't dead, so he opened his eyes to find out why. Through rippling vision, he spotted the robot holding a handless arm towards him, its useless end sparking like a firework.

Mindless determination took hold, and the automaton continued forward. When the intact hand of the ghastly demon reached for John's throat, its head exploded into a thick smoke and fine spray of destruction. Jen's second shot had struck.

The lifeless hulk landed on John, knocking what final wind there was out of his overworked lungs.

## CHAPTER 10

A chill came over John as an onrush of air blew him backward into the soft ground. No, it wasn't the ground. Was he even lying down? No, he was sitting up. But where? The sensation of being thrown back eased, but the cold air continued to blast into his face.

He cracked open his eyes to a field of wispy light blue. As his surroundings slipped into focus, it became clear that he was sitting in the air-car, looking at the sky and speeding to an unknown destination. He took a deep breath and found his lungs were clearing from their earlier tightness.

"John, you are conscious!"

He rolled his head in the direction of the voice. It was Jen. Her eyes were wide, and she looked more shaken than he'd ever seen her before.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"Better," he croaked.

"Oh, my love, you were so ill. I now know how intense fear can be. I was terrified you would die."

She leaned over his still-limp body and gave him a passionate kiss. He was too weak and disoriented to resist so gave in to her hunger. His skin tingled as his blood coursed through his body. It was surprising. Her lips weren't harsh, dry and mechanical like a mere machine's would be but supple, moist and exciting. Her mouth moved with the fervor of a feasting carnivore, almost overwhelming him with her passion. Her warm, wet tongue probed with a gentle lightness when it darted around his own.

It was odd. Yes, she was a robot yet her passion seemed so real. Although Rita was becoming a distant memory, she'd never displayed this level of fire towards him that he could recall.

He stopped analyzing Jen's actions and lost himself in the delight of the moment, at least until his lungs burned for air. He couldn't breathe through his nose after the mold had closed up his airways. Struggling for breath, he pushed her back. When she released him, he gasped through his wide-open mouth and started to hyperventilate.

"Oh, I am so sorry. I did not mean to smother you."

"I'm . . . okay," John said, calming himself. He slowed his breathing back to normal. "I'm just out of breath still. I'm cold too. Can you turn on the heat?"

"I am sorry. I set the temperature control down to its lowest setting." Her fingers flew across the control panel, and the cold blast subsided. "I did not have oxygen to give you, so I was hoping the denser air would re-oxygenate your blood quicker."

Shuddering, he crossed his arms. "That's fine, but you're freezing me now."

"Here, I will warm you," she said, snuggling next to him.

Again, he found her difficult to resist. He huddled closer as pleasant warmth radiated from her soft body, his mouth opening wide with a yawn. While some of the fatigue was from the low level of oxygen in his blood, the majority was from his earlier, harrowing experience. The craving for sleep overpowered him, so he closed his eyes in submission. While his mind drifted further into unconsciousness, his thoughts remained fixed on Jen.

She displayed her love much more openly and passionately than Rita ever had, an intensity of feeling greater than he realized was possible. He'd never been this wanted or felt this loved, by anyone before. Although the feeling was foreign to him, he hungered for it and wanted so much to return it.

As his mind floated into twilight sleep, he pushed back a distant memory of someone proclaiming that this heavenly woman next to him wasn't human. How foolish that was. How could anyone as warm, passionate and loving as Jen be anything but?

*****

Sue exhaled heavily when she reached the top of the stairs and put down the laundry basket with a thud. Washing clothes was enough of a pain without having to lug them up stairs and across the house. One day she'd build a second-floor laundry room. She took in a deep breath, pulled the basket back up and went into the kitchen. Bechler sat at the table with a coffee cup in hand.

"You want me to get that?" he asked, rising from his chair.

"Too late now. Where were you a few minutes ago?"

"I'm sorry," he said, sitting again. "You should've said something."

"I'm just joking."

Bechler had asked an endless string of questions during the afternoon. First, he'd grilled her on every detail of the shifting project, then about both universes she'd visited. Who'd she met with, what was the layout of this room and of that, had she noticed this detail when she was at location x, y and z? Every tiny detail he could ask about, he did. The whole time he made notes on his handheld.

When mid-afternoon came, they went to the kitchen, and she began to prepare dinner. Bechler continued the questioning while she cleaned and cut vegetables for pot roast. When he ran out of things to ask, she went to the basement and brought clean clothes upstairs to fold. Sue began pulling socks from the basket, sorting them in preparation of finding mates to fold together. Bechler looked enthralled by the process.

Sue noticed his staring. "Find this interesting?"

"I'd offer to help, but I'm not sure what to do."

"Oh, well it's more complicated than it looks you know. I didn't master the process until after I got my Ph.D. in Physics."

He laughed. "I guess I'm not all that domestic."

"So how do you do it then? Just jam all the clean socks back in a drawer and sort them when you need a pair?"

"No," he chuckled. "I leave all that up to my wife."

"Your wife?" she blared. "Why Mr. Bechler, that's awfully 19th century of you, isn't it?"

 "I suppose I'm a bit traditional. My wife used to work before we got married. She didn't want to afterward, though, because she prefers to be a stay-at-home mom."

"Children? How many?"

"I have two girls, twins in fact," he said as he fiddled with his handheld. He held it towards her, a picture of two young girls on the display.

Sue took it. "Oh, they're cute."

She was about to ask their age when the front door opened and Jen called out, "Sue?"

"They're back," Sue said, handing the computer back to Bechler.

When they entered the dining room, Jen was helping John onto the living room couch. Something was wrong! Her fear was confirmed when she got closer and heard John's heavy wheeze.

"Oh my God, what's wrong?" Sue exclaimed, her pulse quickening.

"John has had an adverse reaction to mold growing in the armory," Jen said in a strained voice.

Sue's eyes narrowed as she looked at the robot. Jen seemed deeply affected, but it had to be some programmed response. Bechler had been right that she was reading too much into Jen's actions.

"He appeared better until he walked from the barn," Jen said, her voice quivering. "I offered to carry him, but he refused."

"Bull . . . shit," rasped John. "I'm . . . fine."

"Sue, get him a cup of coffee," ordered Bechler. "The caffeine will help open his lungs back up."

"Right," Sue said, hurrying off to the kitchen.

She ran in and grabbed a large mug, her hands shaking as she filled it with straight coffee. John had never mentioned a lung condition to her. Did he have asthma? Was his life in danger from the attack?

She started to return to the living room but had a thought and turned back. She pulled a bottle of antihistamine tablets from one of the cabinets. When she got back, the others were sitting, and John was breathing easier than before. Although her heartbeat slowed, she was still concerned. She gave him the cup and opened the bottle, removing two of the small pink tablets.

"Here," she said, holding the pills out to John. "These are antihistamines. They should help counter the allergic reaction."

John nodded and took them with a sip of the warm coffee. He looked at Jen. "By the way, I never asked. Did you get the particle guns?"

"Yes, I have ten," Jen said. "I left them in the air-car. I did not transport them back here because I was more concerned with you."

Sue clenched her jaw. The robot was gawking at John with that same look again, its words syrupy sweet when it expressed concern over him. Sue swung around and thumped into her chair. She turned to John and glared at him. He was busy pretending the attack hadn't happened, apparently putting on the tough act for Jen. Even so, his breathing was still somewhat labored. What had brought the attack on, anyway? She asked Jen to explain what had happened at the armory. Jen did, her words also filling in some blanks for John: how she'd carried him from the armory and waited for his breathing to ease before going back for the particle guns.

While it was good that the robot had saved John, something more was going on here. The pride it showed when it told how it saved him from the guard seemed like it was genuine, but it couldn't be. It was a machine. Although Bechler had assured her that she was reading more into the robot's intentions than what was there, he hadn't been around it as much as she had. Despite his assurances, it was clinging to John for a reason, and there had to be some ulterior motive.

After dinner, Bechler returned to the topic of Jen's reconnaissance mission.

"Jen, I'm curious. How good of a recording device can you be for us?"

"In what way?" she asked.

"I'm sure once you come back, you'll be able to give us verbal details and draw floor plans. What I'm wondering though is whether there's a way for you to record everything while you're there?"

"Yes, I can do that. While my program does not store details from all my inputs to conserve memory space, I am capable of doing what you ask for a limited time."

"Interesting," Bechler said. "How much time?"

"It will depend on the level of detail you wish me to remember."

"What do you mean by detail?"

"My body consists of more than one million sensors that perform various input functions such as sight, sound and smell. However, the majority sense only pressure or temperature. While I can record discrete input from each sensor, I am unable to record data from all and only do so when they become significant. However . . ."

"No, no, no," Bechler interrupted, his hands waving to stop her as his eyes rolled up. "You're misunderstanding me. I'm not concerned with pressure, temperature, smell or sound unless there's something significant that will impact our rescue mission. What I'm interested in is sight. Can you record still images or even full video of what you see when you're there?"

"Yes, I can do that."

"Good, so if we wanted you to record what you see while you walk down halls and go into rooms it would be possible?"

"That is correct."

 "Good," Bechler said, with a wide grin. "Here's the important part now: is there a way to download this information from you so that we can view it on a video screen or print out individual still images?"

"Yes, I am capable of transferring data in two ways: wireless through radio frequency waves and wired through a physical data port."

Sue smirked. "Is that the port behind your ear that we connected you to the library computer with?"

"That is correct," Jen responded with an impassive face, seeming oblivious to Sue's attempt to mock her mechanical nature.

"Wonderful!" exclaimed Bechler. "We can all have front row seats when she walks through the palace."

John said, "Before we get too excited, how are we going to connect one of our computers to you, Jen? I'm sure your interface is different from ours."

"I can adjust my communications protocols to match yours," Jen said. "But you will either need a radio transceiver tuned to one of my frequencies using the proper modulation and encryption algorithms or a hardwire connection that will physically and electrically match my own."

Bechler leaned forward in his seat. "A wired connection will probably be easier. Would you be able to enter the specifications into my handheld?" He gave the device to Jen.

She took the computer and drew a diagram using a stylus. She labeled the physical dimensions of the connector, the pin functions, the voltages and current levels needed to drive the interface. Sue clenched her teeth as she watched. The robot's drawing was so precise; like looking at a computer printer spit out a document. When Jen was done, she handed it back to Bechler.

John leaned over, and Bechler held the drawing towards him. He took it and gave the drawing some scrutiny.

"The pin functions look similar to Ethernet," John said, his eyes half-closed as though falling asleep.

"I can have one of our techs create a circuit to convert from this to Ethernet then," Bechler said. He turned towards Jen. "Would it be possible for me to take a picture of the actual jack?"

Jen opened the invisible seam on her head and turned it towards Bechler. Seeing John's reaction when the robot bared this piece of its mechanics, Sue tried to hide her smile. It seemed to break the illusion for him that this was a woman, exposing it as the machine it really was.

Bechler aimed his handheld computer and snapped several pictures at different angles to get some perspective on Jen's port. Once he put the handheld back in his pocket, he said, "As far as the networking and file protocols go, Sue should be able to get you specifications for everything from the Internet."

"Very well," Jen said.

John eased forward, "I have a question, Jen. I know you were able to fight off the guard robot earlier, but I'm wondering if you can do the same thing against a human. If someone tries to hurt you on your reconnaissance mission, will you be able to defend yourself?"

Sue rolled her eyes. Why was he so worried about the robot? The thing was built like a tank, and damaging it was almost impossible. Was it because Jen had feigned such concern for him and now he felt it necessary to reciprocate? Or was there something more on his mind?

Jen replied, "Yes, I can defend myself against humans as well as robots."

"Defending yourself is one thing," Bechler said, "but what about killing someone without provocation? You know, if we decide to do this rescue, you may have to shoot a human with one of your particle guns, even if it isn't to defend yourself, and it may kill them. Is that something your programming allows?"

"Not normally," Jen replied. "I have algorithms in my base programming that usually constrain me from harming humans; however, I will reduce the strength of their effects before starting any rescue mission. While the program will still cause some resistance, it will not be sufficient to prevent me from doing whatever is necessary."

While they continued talking, the antihistamines seemed to hit John harder. His eyes closed and his head fell forward, but he caught himself before dropping face first into the table. His eyes snapped open and his head popped back up.

"I'm sorry. I think I better get to bed," he said. "I can't keep my eyes open another minute."

"Yeah, those pills do the same thing to me," Sue reassured him.

John hoisted himself from the chair, pitching back and forth once he did. Jen jumped from her chair and rushed to his side. "Let me help you to your room, John," she said, taking his arm.

Sue's jaw tightened. She wanted to storm across the table and slap the damn robot. Why was it constantly fawning over John? What did it want from him? It was acting like a flirty teenager.

When Sue turned back to the table, Bechler was giving her an odd look. Giving a nervous laugh, she plastered a smile on her face, and said in a sarcastic tone,  "Well, Vince, do you think you're domestic enough to help me clear the table?"

"Maybe with some detailed instructions," he laughed.

*****

John pulled the covers up around his shoulders. "Thank you, Jen."

"Good night, John." She leaned over and gave him a light kiss on the lips.

Although his lips tingled from her show of warmth, should he be enjoying it so much? In one way, the most beautiful woman in the world had just kissed him. In another sense, she was a computer, and her affection was questionable. Was it only a programmed response? What would the others think if they saw them now?

"Can you do me a favor?" he asked.

"Of course, anything you wish."

"Please don't tell anyone about what we discussed in the air-car."

"You mean about being in love with you? Why not?"

How could he explain it to her? He lay there for a moment, scratching his head. "I'm not sure what everyone will think."

"I see. You do not believe they will understand."

"No, I don't. In fact, I don't know if I understand it myself."

"I have already given you some of the reasons why I love you. Do you wish further data for my reasoning?"

"No, it isn't that. I guess I don't understand it on a more fundamental level," he yawned.

Jen sat on the bed next to him, her brows creased. "I am puzzled. What do you mean by a more fundamental level?"

"I know you have a very complex mind, but it is after all artificial and programmed for specific tasks."

"That is correct to some extent. There are specific tasks I have programming for, but I also have the ability to learn and adapt to new situations."

He nodded, "I know that, but there's a huge jump from adapting to new situations and feeling emotion. Did the people who designed you plan on it?"

"No. They gave me a basis for it though by programming in an understanding of emotion. I was given the ability to interpret data when interacting with humans so that I can act in a manner consistent with an emotional response."

"So you were given a set response to differing human actions. If I'm happy, you act one way; hostile, you act another."

"That is correct."

"I can understand that, but I still don't see how you make the jump to feeling something."

"Before you can understand, I must explain the underlying construct of my brain. There are two separate sections. The first is a parallel digital processing unit similar to how your computers work. This portion of my brain is used to store much of the data and experiential knowledge my mind contains. It performs all movements I make and words I speak.

"The second section is a neural network that approximates how a human brain functions. All inputs such as sight, hearing, smell and the millions of sensors throughout my body filter through this section. It is better able to determine what is most significant to address at any given time and to interpret the input's meaning. While I also use the digital portion to assist in interpreting input, I mainly use it for the retrieval of previous input conditions. My neural network uses the historical data for comparison with current inputs. However, it is the neural network, not the digital portion, which determines a response to the input. The digital portion then executes any actions.

"So while I may have a particular set of responses programmed into the digital portion of my brain, these are not the ultimate determining factor in how I will respond to a given input. The neural network has priority because it is more adaptable.

"It is in this neural network portion where I have developed emotion. When I transferred my program to the master computer, all the stored knowledge of the human race became part of my database. I sifted through that knowledge for information on human interaction and emotion. Since my primary function is to be a friendly interface for people wishing to access information, I determined this was the most meaningful use of processing time in the master computer.

"Once you reactivated my body, the key elements of my study were downloaded back into my brain. Since that time, I have been reprocessing that information through my neural network to understand the meaning of human emotion. While I have learned much already, I am continuing to process this information, along with new input, so I may continue to grow. Is this not how humans learn as well?"

"Yes . . . I guess so," John replied. His brain was in a fog; probably from the medication. He'd pursue this some other time. He was too tired right now.

"As you can now understand, my mind is not so different from that of a human," she said, smiling. "It is because of this that I am able to love you."

"Yes, I see, but I still don't want you to speak to anyone else about your feelings about me. Okay?"

"I understand, John, and will do as you request." Her eyes widened as she shook her head. "I love you and do not wish you to be angry with me."

She rose from the bed, turning off the lights and closing the door when she exited. He lay there for only moments before drifting off to sleep.

The night was long and sparse of dreams from the depth of unconsciousness brought about by the drug. Yet one vision came to him in the early hours before dawn that would leave a vague trace on his memory. In his dream, he made love to the woman dearest to his heart. His ecstasy was greater than any he'd ever known as their two bodies melded into one. The euphoria faded and the dream floated further away as his sleep cycle deepened. When the dream slipped away, the apparition was lost, leaving only the memory of the dream but not the woman's identity.

*****

It had been a busy day for Jen. She and Cassius had much to do in preparation for her reconnaissance of the palace. John, still recovering from the asthma attack, had wanted to come but had been overruled by the protests of both Sue and herself. Sue had opted to stay behind to look after John. Bechler had been unable to assist either, his power ration for transport reserved for the actual rescue.

In a way, it was good that Sue hadn't come. John had said that Sue would warm to her in time, but the opposite was happening. More and more, various potentials in Jen's neural network were increasing. She was unsure of what the source of these potentials was but suspected it was due to the growing aversion that Sue felt towards her.

Jen was still learning and had little experience with the emotion of hate. Because of this, she only had a limited basis to analyze Sue's dislike for her. She would need to continue gathering facts to assist in her assessment, but until she could find out, it was best to minimize interaction with Sue to reduce the risk of antagonizing her further.

With none of the others coming along, Jen and Cassius had been left with all the preparations. They arranged her entrance by bribing the whoremaster who supplied strumpets to the palace each week. Cassius had bartered with him, settling on a cost of two "pearl" necklaces that Jen brought for that purpose. The master had whined of the danger involved if he implicated himself in any misdoings. Even though Jen detected his insincerity, she nodded at Cassius to accept. The cost was of no concern. Access to the palace was the only thing that mattered.

Later they walked to the far side of town. The whoremonger had recommended a shop to purchase clothing appropriate for her foray into the emperor's harem. The selection was wide, and it was a challenge to decide which to buy. She'd reviewed much material regarding women shopping for clothes while in the master computer, but she found the actual experience even more puzzling than what she'd been led to believe. There were so many variables to consider, many of them intangible. Too bad John wasn't here, instead of Cassius, to give her a man's perspective.

She tried on several outfits before deciding on a chocolate brown two-piece affair. The supple leather bodice cupped only the bottom half of each breast but continued down to the center portion of her hips, covering the front of her torso. There was no reverse side, only laces that secured around her back to mold it to the contours of her well-formed body. The front was embroidered with gold threading that accented the swell of her breasts and the hourglass curvature of her slender waist. The skirt, made of fine silk, was full length, with slits on both sides that rose to the top of her hips. This caused the back of it to waft out from the breeze when she walked, exposing the sides of her curved posterior. The gossamer silk was sheer enough to hint at the delights beneath.

Cassius had gawked when she strode before him until he realized what he was doing. He apologized, worried he might have offended the goddess. Jen merely noted that she'd made a seductive enough selection.

As she changed back to her tunic, her mind drifted back to John. If only he'd been well enough to be here. The new clothes would remain behind when she transported back so he'd never have a chance to see her in them. Maybe at some point, she could purchase something similar in the other universe. Men were more visual in their sexual attraction to women, and surely, John would react in a way similar to Cassius and the shopkeeper.

Upon leaving the shop, Cassius brought her to a bakery a block from the palace wall to explain a secret known only by a few. There was a tunnel connecting the fieldstone building to the palace, which was there as an emergency escape route. He drew a diagram of the palace to the best of his memory and included the location of the tunnel entrance. It took only a quick glance for Jen to commit it to memory before destroying the sketch.

Their final destination together was a public bathhouse where Jen could change into her new clothes. Cassius took her other clothes to keep until she transported back. She gave him all the other barter items too, with instructions to use what he needed and to save the rest for future purchases. When they parted, Jen went to the agreed-upon rendezvous point to meet up with her temporary new master.

Jen kept pace with the other slave girls while two guards herded them along the dark street. The seven women followed their master as they crossed the last road to a back entrance of the palace. Several times the two slavering guards forced Jen to dodge aside when they quenched their sexual hunger by groping for a breast or buttock through her alluring clothes. While she should've been equally subject to the guards' advances as the other women, her golden hair and creamy complexion made her an exotic beauty that seemed to be irresistible.

 "Step lively, wench," said one of the guards, slapping Jen's bottom when she went through the door of the palace. The guards didn't enter so he must have wanted one last grope of her body before parting ways.

Different guards took up with them inside and walked the group through a maze of corridors. These guards were more disciplined. They neither touched nor said anything to the women except to give directions. They stopped outside an office, and the master went in to haggle his price. He said that Jen's beauty should attract more money so asked the man to see for himself.

"Well, Lord, what say ye? Have I not brought forth a rare prize for the emperor?" asked the whoremaster.

"I will be the judge."

The slobbering old man walked around Jen, poking, prodding and grasping in the pretense of evaluating her worth. Jen stood like a statue while he lifted the silk of her skirt to see all he could.

After extending the inspection as long as possible, he started the negotiations. "I will agree this one is different. What is your price?"

The two men haggled for several more minutes until settling on a price that even Cassius would be shocked by. Taking leave of the two other men, the guards herded the women onward, only stopping when they reached their destination.

The room was fifty feet to a side with floor cushions lying in several places. At one end was a counter lined with various brushes, bottles of perfume and tins of makeup. On the wall hung reflective tin sheets used as mirrors for primping, above which hung a row of glowing oil lamps.

When the guards exited, the women's silence ended, and they began talking among themselves. All gave Jen a wide berth though because she wasn't one of their group. However, with her keen auditory sense, she was able to overhear when they whispered jealous words about the price she'd commanded.

Jen smiled for a split second before removing the expression from her face and furrowing her brows. What had caused that reaction? She searched through her catalog of human emotions and determined that vanity could cause it. This was a new emotion for her, though, so she needed to process all stored data through her neural network to make certain it was valid for her to experience it in this situation. She would continue to run an analysis as a background task.

Two slave women dressed in simple linen tunics entered the room, their faces rough and work-worn. The older of the two, who Jen estimated to be in her late forties, took command.

"Attend, ladies!" she blared out. When all were silent, she said, "Disrobe here, and we will assist with your baths."

The younger of the two slaves gravitated to Jen. As the girl stared, she asked, "May I help to untie your bodice?"

"You may," Jen said, turning her back to the girl. "Thank you."

The young woman spoke in a low voice, "I know I should not be so bold but may I ask where you are from?"

"I am from overseas," Jen said. Although it took many processing cycles for her to sift through her stored data to come up with it, a split second later she added, "I was born in Brittainia."

"Do all those from Brittainia have flaxen hair such as yours?"

"No, only some," Jen said, turning back towards the girl so she could finish removing the bodice. "What is your name?"

"I am Agacia. What is yours?"

"I am pleased to meet you, Agacia. I am known as Flavia."

The girl grinned. "That is a good name for you. I have never seen anyone so pretty as you, Flavia."

"Thank you, Agacia," Jen said. Again a smile blossomed on her face, and she instructed her digital processors to lower its intensity. For some inexplicable reason, she was finding pleasure in this vanity response.

Agacia glanced downward for a moment and said in a shy voice, "I only wish I were so pretty. Then I would not have to work as hard."

One of the girl's chapped hands drifted up in an attempt to smooth her unkempt hair, which was held back in an unattractive bun. The tanned skin of her face was dry and smeared with the dirt of her labors. While a hard life had withered her youth prematurely, she wasn't ugly. Although a bit wide, her face had good bone structure, and her eyes were a light hazel in color. They gave her a striking appearance in comparison to those around her.

"I am not sure that is true," Jen said. "There is much unpleasantness in the work that I do as well." The girl flushed as Jen continued. "Besides, I think with the proper attention, you would be pretty as well."

"Now you are teasing me," Agacia said, looking down again as she blushed harder.

"Agacia!" the older slave woman yelled. "You are not here to be talking the day away. Help one of the others."

"Yes, Modesta," she said, cowering at the woman's reprimand.

Modesta glared at Jen while Agacia gathered up her clothes and scuttled away. Jen ignored the bitter grimace, stared into the burning eyes and called out, "It was nice speaking with you, Agacia."

For undefined reasons, Jen had taken an immediate liking to Agacia. She didn't care for the way Modesta intimidated the girl nor did she like the woman's attempt to intimidate her either. There were many things that Jen was still learning, but she'd studied enough about human interactions to know when she came up against a bully. She also knew the best defense was not to let them intimidate you, so Jen had fought back for both her and Agacia.

Modesta's scowl deepened when she turned away from Jen, saying nothing, but busying herself with one of the other women.

When all had disrobed, Modesta led them to the next room, which contained a swimming-pool-sized bath. They each had a sponge and a selection of oily scented soaps from which to choose. Jen sniffed several before selecting a scent of jasmine. While her nose had a high enough resolution to accurately analyze the compounds in the liquid to determine why her neural network had determined this was the best selection, she chose not to. She simply enjoyed the pleasant sensation the fragrance provided.

The other women acclimated themselves to the warm water by inching their way down the steps of the bath. Jen, who was able to control her body temperature with ease, strode in without pause, her skin tingling with the warmth of the water. She smiled at the sensation and submerged her head, coming back up with a splash of her arms.

With all the sensors buried under her skin, Jen was capable of performing a detailed analysis of the water to determine why she was having such a pleasing reaction. But again she simply chose to enjoy the experience. It was similar to her love for John. Even though she'd produced a list of reasons for her feelings, she'd been unable to determine the exact source of the emotion. Therefore, she was just enjoying the experience it provided and trying her best to make John love her back.

"You there, wash up your hair as well!" Modesta bellowed, pointing to a women next to Jen.

The women began to wash, helping each other to sponge down their neighbors' backs. Once again, the others ignored Jen so she did the best she could by herself.

"Come, ladies, we have little time," ordered Modesta, motioning them out of the bath. She seemed to relish the short taste of authority she'd been given. Jen would not begrudge the woman her moment as long as she left her and Agacia in peace.

Heated linen towels were waiting, and Agacia handed one to Jen with a smile. As Jen dried her body, she analyzed her reaction to Agacia further. The girl was young and inexperienced, still learning about the world. Although not so young, Jen was likewise still learning about human interaction, and maybe this was why she felt a kinship with Agacia.

When they walked back to the first room, Modesta handed three of the women fresh clothes, but Jen got her own back. There was no explanation or discussion, but the ones taken must have been somehow unsuitable: either too dirty, worn or not revealing enough.

After dressing, they went to the mirrors to brush their hair, apply makeup and preen to perfection. While they adorned themselves at the looking glass, they ate a small meal of bread and cheese. This most likely wasn't for their comfort but to prevent distraction later when satisfying the dignitaries. They paid no attention whether the women ate or not. This was fortunate since Jen's system was made to ingest water, but food was another matter altogether. They were all handed parsley to chew on and water to drink to make their breath as sweet as their appearance. Since Modesta watched when they inserted the parsley into their mouths, Jen nibbled on hers and spat it out later when nobody was looking.

When the awaited hour was upon them, a male staff member led them through the warren of hallways again. After the maze was completed, they ended up in a room with the emperor and his guests.

*****

Over an hour had passed since Jen first walked in and had seen the emperor. He hadn't recognized her. In their previous meeting, her head had been covered to hide her blonde hair. As fortune would have it though, her flaxen hair got her alone with Lucius.

When the courtesans entered the room, the line of women paraded before the men then seated themselves across from the emperor and his guests. They instructed each woman to rise to the center of the room and dance to the music of lyre and pan flute.

Jen was last to perform and watched how the others moved to learn the style of dance required. All eyes were entranced by each twist of her body. Under other conditions, a battle would've ensued when she finished, to see which man would win the golden-haired treasure for the night. However, with the emperor present, there was no question of this.

When Jen and the emperor were alone in closed quarters, she made her identity known and they began discussing the rescue operation.

 "We have not decided on a day for the rescue yet," Jen said. "I am here to gather information so we may formulate a viable plan."

"I believe the best time for the rescue will be in one week," said Emperor Lucius.

"Why will this be a good time?"

"I will be traveling up the coast to one of our port towns, Antium, to celebrate the launch of several new warships. The trip will last several days, and Placidia will attend with me." He smiled as he continued, "While I am there, I will be under the protection of my army and navy. Once my family is freed from the palace guard, I will be able to move against him."

"Very good. What day will you reach your destination?"

"I will arrive on the day of Venus. Will the rescue occur during day or night?"

Since they hadn't planned anything yet, Jen referenced her stored data to review all rescue operations she had in memory. After compiling the data from the few she had at her disposal, she replied, "It has yet to be decided, but I would believe night to be best."

"I would agree," nodded Lucius. "I will await word of your success the following day then, the day of Saturn."

"We can send Cassius as a messenger once we have your family free. Will he have difficulty reaching you?"

 "No. I will make Legatus Aquilinus aware. We will instruct his men to bring Cassius to me upon his arrival."

"Very well, that is settled. What about your family? Once we get them from the palace, where shall we bring them for safety?"

"That I will need to consider further," he said. "The city is full of those loyal to Placidia, including Legatus Ocella. He controls the legion stationed here."

Jen's head inched back slightly. Hadn't the emperor made plans for his family after their escape? It wouldn't do any good to extract the family from the palace only to have them recaptured. And if news reached Placidia, it would make matters worse. She again sifted through her stored data but couldn't come up with a clear answer from the other examples she had. Each rescue scenario was unique and therefore had different outcomes as to where hostages were taken after their liberation.

She said, "Then we will either need to hide them somewhere in the city where they cannot be found or we will need to get them out of the city."

"I do not believe it will be safe in the city. You must take them from here."

"Shall we bring them to you?"

"I do not wish them to make the complete journey. I will make arrangements and leave instructions with my wife as to where you will bring them."

"Will you be able to give me a tour of the palace so I can create a map?"

As discussed with Bechler, she needed as much of a tour as the emperor was able to give her to map out the building. She'd also record the images from her eyes to create a video walk-thru that the others could review.

 "I will do better than that," he said. "I have drawings of the palace in my office. You will have to find a way to smuggle them out though."

Jen shook her head. "That will not be necessary. I have a unique ability to remember everything I see. I will just need to look at the plans one time to be able to re-draw them."

"That is a rare ability. Let us proceed to my office then."

When they went into the corridor, they passed several sentries. As they approached each one, Jen saw they had the automatic rifles that the conspirators had sold Placidia. She increased the resolution of her sensors to maximum and cleared her mind of several background tasks that she was working on to ensure she could respond quickly to any danger the sentries posed. Each time, they passed the guards with no incident, the men only standing at attention when the emperor went by. She deduced the emperor was only traversing corridors where he was allowed, so the sentries wouldn't interfere with him.

Upon reaching his office, the emperor unrolled the drawings on a table, and Jen looked at them, scanning each page to remember every detail. He explained the usual locations of his wife and children at any given time of day. Since the operation would most likely take place at night, he showed her the sleeping chambers each would be in too. He also pointed out some of the locations where sentries patrolled but was unable to do so for the entire building.

The plans seemed complete and showed the basement level with kitchen area, pantries, wine cellar, palace guard offices and troop quarters. Jen pulled up the image stored in her memory of the sketch Cassius had made, virtually overlaying it on top of the drawing before her. The old man had outlined the troop quarters to show her where the secret tunnel entered the palace. Based on his foggy memory of several years past, it hadn't been very detailed. There were discrepancies between his sketch and the floor plans in front of her. In fact, the emperor's drawings showed no sign of the tunnel. She didn't want to rely on partial information. The results could mean life or death.

"Cassius has told me of a secret exit in the lower level used only in times of danger. It is a tunnel connecting the palace to a bakery on the next street."

Lucius nodded. "Ah yes, I had forgotten about that. The plans do not show this for reasons of security. Do you think you will use this as an escape route?"

"I am not sure, but it seems that it would be wise to either use this as an entrance or exit route, maybe both."

"I would agree. However, I do not have any detailed drawings of the area where the tunnel connects."

Wanting to pin down its precise location, she asked, "Would it be possible for you to take me on a tour of this level?"

 "No. Even if they didn't question me for bringing you to some locations on that level, such as the wine cellar and kitchen, they would not allow me access to the guard offices or quarters."

"From what Cassius said, the tunnel entrance is in this area," she said, placing her finger on the floor plan where there was a correlation between the drawings.

Lucius nodded. "It has been many years since I was told of this exit, but that seems right. As I recall, there is a storage closet which protrudes from the building somewhere along this wall," he said, pointing to a large room denoted as barracks on the drawing. "There are shelves in it, and one section pulls out to reveal a door."

"That matches with what Cassius told me," she said, nodding. "I would like you to take me on a tour of as many areas as possible. Once we have done that, I believe I will have sufficient information for us to formulate a plan of attack."

## CHAPTER 11

John shuddered as he moved forward, the rescue of the empress finally being upon them. While they'd planned the operation to minimize the chances any of them would be hurt or killed, something unforeseen could happen. Despite his growing anxiety, he drove home the plunger of the syringe, injecting a powerful barbiturate into the startled man. When the man recovered from the initial shock and started to yell, Jen clamped her hand over his mouth. John's heartbeat quickened. He'd wake the entire building if his struggle became too great. When the man finally slumped over, John's muscles relaxed a bit.

Although it was the middle of the night, the young man had let Jen into his room. She'd pretended to be a new neighbor of his who'd been frightened by a giant rat running around in her apartment. She flashed her eyes and pleaded with him, playing up to his ego by remarking how much she'd like to get to know him better. Once he turned to let her enter, she'd grabbed him around both arms and held tight while John ran in and injected him.

John hurried to the door of the room across the hallway, opened it and called in a quiet voice, "Sue, Vince, we're all set."

He grabbed a crate just inside the door, swung it around then rushed back to the room where Jen was. Following behind, Bechler groaned as he hauled a large Gatling gun into the room. Sue, not able to handle a heavy crate she was carrying, dropped it with a thud in the middle of the hallway.

John shot back through the door and whispered, "Forget it. I'll take it. Help Bechler get the gun set up."

He hoisted the heavy box and followed her back into the room. He and Jen made several more trips to the other apartment for the gun tripod and more crates before finishing the transfer.

John rested to catch his breath. Feeling a twinge in his back, he'd be sorry for the heavy exertion in the morning. He watched Sue and Bechler at the large double window at the front of the room as they set the gun onto the tripod. They'd already screwed the mounting into the thick wooden floor so it wouldn't move once the battle started. He glanced over at Jen. She unpacked three cylinders of nitrous oxide and ran a tube under the apartment's entrance door.

They'd spent the days after Jen had returned from her scouting mission in preparation for today. Using the interface cable and adapter that Bechler had constructed, they downloaded the floor plans, photos and video that Jen had stored in her memory. Once they reviewed the information and planned the assault, they transported all the equipment for the attack.

The room they were in was across the street from the palace compound, and it would give them a clear shot of the main gate. Since a tenant occupied the apartment, Cassius had rented the room across the hall as a staging area.

The group had spent the last two nights relaying the heavy weapons and ammunition they'd use. Bechler transported the equipment to the barn, Sue was at the quantum shifter there and relayed it to the alleyway in this universe and Jen, Cassius and John moved it by ox cart to the staging points. They also transported a mortar and several cases of rounds to a hidden weapons cache a few miles outside the city. It was on the border of a farm field where they could take clear shots back into the city.

The plan wasn't to pummel the city with artillery but to zero in on the palace by use of laser-guided rounds. Cassius would fire the mortars, while Sue stayed in the room they were now working in, painting a laser beam onto the targets. There were several types of rounds to choose from, most of which were low power and would be used to generate noise and confusion.

The Gatling gun was on a motorized tripod that would swing back and forth across the front of the palace. Sue would be able to fire it by a remote control while she aimed the laser and shot out the window with a particle gun. The Gatling gun ammunition consisted of all tracer rounds to provide a light show for the guards when they came out to fight.

The plan was for Sue and Cassius to create as much noise and confusion as possible so the guards would think the palace was under siege and leave the barracks empty, allowing Jen, Bechler and John to enter through the escape tunnel. They'd proceed to the rooms of the royal family, gather them up and return through the tunnel to a wagon waiting outside the bakery.

Eventually, the guards would realize the gunfire was coming from Sue and would circle to the back of the building, at which point the hallway would be flooded with nitrous oxide to knock unconscious anyone attempting to get to the apartment. Once everyone had left, Sue would shut the door and seal it airtight with spray foam insulation to prevent any gas from finding its way to her.

The building was constructed of solid stone so was a virtual fortress. Although the palace guards had the automatic rifles the conspirators sold to Placidia, they wouldn't penetrate the walls, only leaving them able to shoot at Sue through the window. She'd remain back in the shadows to avoid a clear shot, and she wore full body armor to protect against ricochets. The main concern would be hand grenades, which they hoped the palace guards didn't have. However, they had a backup plan just in case.

"All set with the Gatling gun," Bechler said as he came up to John.

"Good. Should we make sure the radios work?" John asked.

They donned headsets and helmets, and each went through a check to ensure they could all hear each other.

"Are you able to hear me, Cassius?" John called.

"Yes, Lord, I do. I could hear you talk in the tongue of the gods but did not know if you were speaking to me."

"Just stay ready, and Jen or I will instruct you when to do something."

"Aye, Lord, that I will."

Once John had translated, Bechler said. "Let's go then. Jen, you want to grab our friend here?"

"Yes," Jen responded, throwing the unconscious tenant over her shoulder.

When they closed the hall door behind them, there was a hiss as Sue sealed the cracks with spray foam. The yellow froth oozed from under the door, barely visible in the faint light of the corridor. John turned his head several times as they went down the hall, looking back at the door. Would Sue be alright once she was alone, under heavy fire? Although well protected by the thick stone walls and body armor, she was still in danger.

Pulling on night-vision goggles, except Jen whose eyes didn't require them, they continued down the stairs and dumped the man in the back alley, pouring wine on his face and body. Anyone finding him would think he'd passed out from too much drink.

Reaching the end of the alleyway, they turned at the first cross street back towards the palace's front gate. From the road, they proceeded to the compound entrance, hugging close to the wall to keep out of sight of the guardhouse window. Bechler motioned for the others to stop then continued forward alone on hands and knees. When he reached the spot under the window, he planted an explosive charge and started the timer.

Bechler had almost made his way back to the team when a man's voice called from within the walled compound. Bechler froze in place, hands and knees still hard to the cobblestone road. John flinched from the light touch of Jen's hand on his back while she inched her way around him. He turned his head towards her. She had her particle gun in hand, ready to fire.

John looked back towards the palace gate. When two men emerged from the guardhouse door and turned their gaze towards the three of them, he tensed his arm, ready to pull his own gun. Jen would fire before he could, though. He squinted but opened his eyes again when the burst from her gun never came. Then it hit him. He was only seeing the men because of the night-vision goggles. While the guards were visible from the amplified light through the goggles, the three of them were undetectable to the men.

The sentries were still talking as they turned in the opposite direction, but their words were unintelligible. Jen whispered that they'd come out for fresh air between shifts.

John nodded but otherwise stayed as still as possible. It was almost ten minutes before the guards walked off the street. By then, Bechler had inched his way back to them.

"Help me up," he whispered.

John grabbed his hand and pulled, Bechler moaning when his knees cracked. He stretched his legs to loosen out the stiffness then whispered, "Let's get moving. That damn charge is going to blow any second."

They hurried to the end of the street and around the corner, Bechler now taking up the rear. They proceeded to the bakery but paused when the loud detonation of the charge thundered out, lighting the sky throughout the city.

*****

Sue aimed her particle gun at the guard on the left. When they turned away from Bechler, she relaxed. They hadn't seen him in the shadows.

Sue had busied herself with final preparations after John left. She squirted foam in every crack around the door to seal it then eased open the valves of the nitrous cylinders to fill the hall with gas. The three tanks were connected via a manifold to a regulator valve so they'd all drain at the same rate. As the nitrous hissed from the tanks, she placed her night-vision goggles over her eyes and dowsed the work light she'd been using. With the room in darkness, she pulled the cloth cover from the window and checked the sightlines of the Gatling gun, making the final adjustments to aim it at the gate. Her final preparation had been to get several napalm grenades ready to lob out the window. Her body armor would protect her from any bullets that would make it through the window, but she'd need to keep anyone from getting close enough to toss in grenades.

The body armor was of the latest design from Bechler's universe and was an ultra-lightweight fabric woven from a nano-tube fiber. It was stronger than anything known in John or Sue's universes. Bechler assured them it would stop any bullet the guards would fire. Not only did they wear flak jackets made of the material but also thinner, more flexible pants too. This gave them full body protection from enemy fire.

Despite the material's great strength, a lucky shot could hit an unprotected hand or foot, worm between helmet and collar or ricochet behind a face shield. In addition to this, the pants were vulnerable to penetration from closer range shots due to having fewer layers. If struck in the exact same spot multiple times, the jackets would be at risk too. While very much protected, she wasn't invincible by any means. Her body would still be vulnerable to the shockwave from a hand grenade, even if shrapnel didn't penetrate.

The napalm grenades she had would provide a temporary fire barrier in the street, and keep grenade throwers too far back to lob one through the window. The impervious stone construction of the building should prevent the napalm fire from spreading inside. Bechler had assured her that this particular type of grenade was able to burn for over five minutes, so he suggested she keep a stream of them flowing out the window.

Sue had just staged several of the firebombs below the window when she saw the others encounter the two guards on their break. Her pulse quickened, and her thoughts swirled with the danger her friends were in, especially John. She was becoming closer to him with each passing day. Her life had become so empty since her father died. More and more, John was filling that void for her.

As the guards came farther from the gate, the automatic rifles the conspirators had been shifting here became visible. If they suspected anything was wrong and opened fire, other guards would be alerted, and the fight would start earlier than planned. She pulled the particle gun from her belt and aimed at the man closest to Bechler, waiting to see what they'd do. When the two turned away from her friends, her heart slowed, but she stayed ready to shoot if the circumstances changed. As the guards talked and the minutes ticked away, she glanced at her watch, cursing them for their busy tongues. How much longer until the explosive charge goes off? There couldn't be much time left.

When the guards finally reentered the gate, the others moved off down the street. With John safe, she hurried to the front corner of the room, sat on the floor and threw the thick straw mattress from the bed over herself. With her back against the wall the window was on, she waited for the considerable shockwave the high explosive would produce. Hopefully it wasn't big enough to bring the building down on her. She removed her goggles, put in a set of earplugs and was checking her radio in preparation for reporting the result of the explosion to the others when it went off. Although the mattress was over her, the light flashed around it. Her skin pulsed from the pressure change and the concussion shook the floor so violently that it felt like she was falling through it. When the floor held fast, her muscles unwound, and she inhaled her first breath, her nose tingling from the dust flung loose and the acrid smoke of the bomb.

As the dust continued to settle, Sue threw off the mattress and ran to the window. She needed to evaluate the result of the explosion and report to the others. It was dark again but for small burning patches of shrubbery along the front of the palace building and dead quiet but for the occasional snap of a burning branch. By the dim light, she not only saw that the gate and guardhouse were gone but that the wall was rubble for twenty feet on each side of where they'd once stood. The force of the explosion had thrown massive stones into the yard, front door and windows. Even with all the disturbance, it was several minutes before a bell rang and anyone came out to investigate.

Bechler's voice came over the radio, "Sue, are you there?"

"I'm here."

"How did we do?"

"Pretty impressive. I'm not sure where the gate is anymore, and you took out at least a fifty-foot section of the stone wall."

"Good, we're in the tunnel heading towards the palace. How are our friends reacting?"

Sue continued scanning. "Not much is happening. I'd wait a bit longer before breaking through. They're just now starting to come out and investigate."

"All right. While we're waiting, let's start the rest of the fireworks. I'll have Cassius start firing so you can get him sighted in."

"I'll hit the compound with the laser." She reached over to the Gatling gun tripod where it was mounted and flipped on the laser. She brought the goggles back over her eyes, verified she had it sighted on the compound and waited to see where the first round struck. Even though the rounds were laser guided, Cassius would have to fire the mortars close to where they wanted them to land. There were guiding fins on the back to steer the mortar to the final landing spot, but they could only adjust the trajectory a minimal amount. The key was to initially aim the mortar close to where it needed to land and then the fins could move it over the hundred feet or so to hit the laser's pinpoint.

Jen's voice came over the radio speaking Latin, giving Cassius instructions to start firing. Sue cringed at the sound of the robot. When they were first planning the operation, she'd wanted to be with John when they went into the palace. Although the others had thought it best to have Jen go instead, John argued for it the most. It angered her to know that he wanted to do more showing off to the machine. She'd also noted the way Jen looked at John when it made its argument to go with him. Jen obviously wanted to hang on John further.

When the first round that Cassius fired zipped overhead, Sue saw it overshoot the palace. This had been preplanned. She'd need to determine where the shell landed to give its approximate distance to Jen. If it came down behind her, she'd be unable to provide any useful feedback.

There was a flash of light over the rooftop of the palace when the small charge hit. She said into her radio, "I estimate it landed about a mile east and a few blocks north of the target."

"Got it," Jen replied.

Jen gave instructions over the radio, and then Cassius replied. The two talked back and forth a few times before the radio went silent. With Jen calculating how many degrees to move the mortar tube, the next shot should be dead on,

Sue wasn't disappointed. There was a loud swish followed by an explosion when the round hit the spot highlighted by the laser light. The rounds Cassius was firing at this point were very low power, so the result was a bright flash and a cloud of dust kicking up. He had rounds that were more powerful at his disposal but would only use them if the firing got too intense for Sue to handle.

"Perfect!" Sue cried. "That hit dead on."

"Okay, great," Bechler replied. "Have you got sight of the guards?"

"Yeah. Other than dodging out of the way, they aren't doing much. There are more of them looking around though."

"Start shooting with the Gatling gun then."

"Will do."

The gun whirred to life as the barrels started revolving around and the mounting arced back and forth. Shots rang out when the firing started, empty brass casings spitting out the side. Blue-white streaks zipped to the compound as the tracer rounds flared to life.

Sue put in her left earplug to block out the noise. Her right ear still stung from the thunderous din, the speaker of the radio headset unable to block its deafening noise. She moved farther away from the gun. It lowered the volume of the clatter a bit but not much. If she moved further away, she couldn't see the results of her firing on the palace. She'd have to bear the noise.

She looked across at the palace compound. As planned, her shots were arcing across the opening in the wall that the bomb had created. The idea wasn't to obliterate their opponents but to keep them pinned down enough to occupy them. After a few seconds, she released the button and the firing stopped.

There was total chaos in the ranks with confused guards stumbling about. After several more short bursts from the gun, someone called out and took charge. The guards began to return her fire. Splinters flew through the room as the bullets struck the stone walls and wood ceiling. Suddenly, something yanked her shoulder back. What the hell was it? Someone else was in the room with her! She thrashed her wide eyes around the room, her breath coming in gasps.

When nobody was there, she realized she'd been hit by a bullet. Her body armor had dulled the shot and prevented any injury. She gritted her teeth and returned fire, holding the button down a little longer this time. Maybe she'd hit the culprit who shot her.

Guards poured into the compound to join the battle, and the return fire intensified, causing a continuous shower of splinters to rain down. The room was like the fog of a bee swarm as bullets flew in and shards zipped around, bouncing from wall to wall. Licking her trembling lips, Sue hunkered down, her forehead wet with perspiration, a spray of stone fragments pelting her face shield and the smoke of gunpowder stinging her nose. Although she already hated the conspirators for killing her father, she cursed them now for transporting the guns here. Bullets were much more deadly than arrows, and it was going to make for a much longer night.

"There's quite a few out there now," she shouted into her microphone, her voice quivering. "Have Cassius start firing and go ahead in."

*****

"Okay, you heard the lady," Bechler said. "John, give Cassius the go ahead to start firing a round once every minute. Jen, let's get this door open."

John and the others had broken into the bakery, found the tunnel entrance and traversed its length to the palace end. Although his nerves had eased somewhat from the earlier close call at the main gate, their burning increased the further John progressed through the perilous, dark tunnel. Each step he took brought him closer to the battle; the start of the fighting; the killing. He'd never been in danger like this before. He'd never even imagined it. He tried to calm himself. _I'm alright. I'll be okay. Everything will be fine._ He took several deep breaths, but his heart kept up its rushing beat. He couldn't let the others down. Sue and Jen had to see he could overcome the fears that had crippled him his entire life.

Several times Jen put her ear to the back of the shelves covering the secret entrance to listen for activity. After a period of clamor, she whispered to the men that she couldn't hear anything. Most, if not all, of the guards had left the barracks by then. Once Sue had given the word that the fight at the gate was well underway they moved the shelves and entered the storage room.

John radioed Cassius then followed the others into the storage room, his stomach still churning. He began worrying about Sue. While he'd initially thought that her position would be safer than storming the palace, now he was having second thoughts. Why had he argued for her to be there? He'd heard the fear in Sue's voice and all the return fire over the radio when she was talking to Bechler. Once the rest of the guards were deployed outside, it would become even more intense for her, especially considering the firing rate of the guards' automatic weapons. He tried to push the concern from his mind. It was too late to change anything now.

As John came up, Jen was on the floor with a spy-cam looking under the door between the closet and barracks. The spy-cam was a small video camera with a lens mounted on the end of a flexible gooseneck shaft. It was a foot and a half long, and a quarter of an inch in diameter, with an eyepiece that allowed the operator to snake the camera lens under a door, over a fence or around a corner, giving them a good view while remaining out of sight.

Jen whispered, "I see one person sitting on a bed that is straight ahead, but I cannot get a good shot of the whole room." She stood and turned to the two men, coiling the spy-cam and stuffing it in her pocket.

"We can't wait," Bechler said, giving them all instructions for their next actions. John went down to one knee, his particle gun held ready, as Jen prepared to open the door for Bechler.

Bechler counted down. "One, two, three . . ."

The door flew open from Jen's mighty tug. Bechler disappeared around the right edge of the door, and John shot the particle gun at a man facing away from them. With a blinding flash, the top half of the man's body vaporized. As the bodiless legs dropped to the ground, John's stomach twisted. What the hell had he just done? What had been a man a split second earlier was no longer there. Only a pair of scorched stumps and a cloud of vapor showed evidence of there ever being one. John's ribs were throbbing with each beat of his pounding heart, but he had to ignore it. He needed to keep moving.

Jen bolted through the door to the left, and John got to his feet, running into the center of the room. The door on the opposite side started to open. John sucked in a huge breath and fired again, too fast to consider who he might injure or kill. His aim was quick, and the shot hit the wall rather than the door, which disintegrated in the blast. A shower of stone fragments flew at John, driven by a burst of heated air. Beyond the opening he created, a charred body pounded against the back wall and bounced to the floor.

Bechler yelled, "John, turn the setting on your gun down before you bring the whole damn building down on us!"

Before he finished speaking, Jen was there, adjusting John's gun. Suddenly, thunderous pulses from an automatic weapon streaked through the hole John blasted, and Jen shoved him to his right. They both pummeled onto the floor, John landing on top, but then rolling off and onto his stomach. He trembled as he aimed his gun. Before he could return fire, the crackle of stone echoed through the room when one of Bechler's shots hit the wall next to the opening.

Jen fired at the assailant too, her shot so precise it hit the end of the rifle barrel protruding from the damaged wall. When the distorted gun barrel backfired in the attacker's face, the man screamed in agony. John cringed, wishing he could run from the horrific sound.

Time seemed to stand still as he stared at Jen's magnificent face, the staccato of rifle shots and sizzle of particle guns fading into the background. Her expression remained scarily impassive from the shrieking cries, a sharp contrast to John's memory of how warm and loving she'd been in the air-car on their trip from the library. Her emotions that day had been as intense as any human's. Yet her reaction now was a stark reminder of her true nature.

John's thoughts broke off as Jen charged towards the gaping hole and the screaming guard. He shook the fog from his mind and advanced behind her, catching up just as she fired another burst into the bloody cavern of the faceless banshee. The piercing scream stopped, and the lifeless guard tumbled over.

Jen continued through the blasted doorway, looked side to side then turned back to them. "All clear in here." She rushed to John. "John, are you all right?"

"Yeah, fine," he said in a daze, noting that she was more emotional again.

"I am sorry I pushed you, but I saw the barrel coming around the corner and did not have time to warn you."

"Thank you," muttered John, still collecting his senses. "You kept me from getting hit."

"Let's move on," Bechler said, advancing through the door.

Jen led the way through the next room into a dim hallway, the emperor's building plans set in her mind. The hall was long and wide and led to a stairway. When they were halfway to the stairs, a man emerged from the door at the far end. Jen fired, and his body fell forward into the hall. A second man peeked around the corner but snapped back just as her second shot hit the doorframe.

"There's someone down here!" the guard called out, remaining hidden behind the door while he opened fire down the hall. Jen dove left onto the floor, getting off one stray shot at the guard before she landed hard. John and Bechler, not being as fast, took the brunt of the fire before they were able to react.

A cascade of bullets slammed into John's chest, each feeling like someone was jabbing him hard with a blunt stick. His heart skipped a beat when the bullets pummeled him, but then he realized that he was unharmed. The armor from Bechler's universe had absorbed the bulk of the force. When the last hit, he stumbled backward several steps before going down.

Jen fired another shot from the floor just as the man pulled the gun back around the corner, causing her to miss the shot again. Someone from the floor above called down the echoing stairwell, but John couldn't make out what was being said.

The guard repeated his cry for help and his gun arced around the corner, firing off more shots. The bullets zoomed over John and the others this time, hitting walls and ricocheting their way down the hall. Jen fired another shot and hit the target, charring the man's hand into inaction. When she rose from the floor, the guard's hand came around the corner again, this time flinging a hand grenade towards them. Jen hit the floor as the explosive landed forty feet out and started rolling towards them. John followed suit, hitting the ground as his pulse skittered in terror. The pressure of the blast left his ears numb and his nose burning from the stench of high explosives. The guard picked up the rifle with his good hand and raced towards them. John was scrambling to find his particle gun when a black spot burned into the man's chest from Jen's shot. Momentum carried the man forward several yards, landing some twenty feet from their position.

Jen sprang up and ran to Bechler, who was on the floor staring in shock at his own bloody hand. John ran to him too. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," Bechler croaked out. "Some shrapnel hit my hand."

"John, go to the stairwell and shoot anyone coming down. I will take care of Vince." Jen pulled a small medical kit from the leg pocket of her suit.

John retrieved his particle gun then sprinted up the hall to the stairs. On his way, he passed the spot where the grenade had gone off and shuddered from the damage it had caused. The blast had sheared away several of the stones in the flooring, but the bulk of the explosion had gone up and out. Pieces of shrapnel had penetrated the wood ceiling. One door was almost obliterated, with only fragments left hanging.

When John reached the doorway to the stairs, he stopped and glanced around the corner. No one was there, but he could hear voices.

After a time, someone from above called. "What is going on down there, Vibius?"

John stayed silent, his mind whirling as he considered his options. If he said nothing, they'd come down to investigate. If he pretended to be Vibius and answered, he may fool them until the others were ready. He had nothing to lose so replied in as commanding a voice as he could muster, "There was an intruder down here. I have killed him with one of the exploding stones."

"Are you mad?" called the guard. "You should not have used one inside like that."

"I had no choice. I could not get a shot at him."

"It is done now," the guard said. His tone changed. "I am sorry I was not able to help. I was ordered not to leave my post for any reason."

"That is all right. I have taken care of him," John replied.

Jen and Bechler came up from behind. There was a bandage around Bechler's hand, but otherwise, he seemed intact.

A second voice echoed from the top of the stairs. "Who is it you are speaking with down there?"

"It is Vibius," said the first guard in reply.

"That did not sound like Vibius to me," said the second guard. He called louder now, "Who is down there?"

"It is I, Vibius," John replied. He raised his voice, sounding more urgent. "Wait, I need to go to the other end of the hall. There is another intruder down here."

"Wait, Vibius, are you still there?"

John silently gestured to Bechler, questioning whether they should go upstairs. Bechler nodded and, as quiet as he could, John began ascending with the others following. As they continued, the guards were still talking.

"Are you certain that was Vibius? It did not sound like him to me."

"He said it was, but I do not know him that well."

"I do know him, and that did not sound like him. We should go down and check."

"You can, but I was ordered by the centurion not to leave this post under any condition."

"Very well, I shall go myself then."

John reached a landing when the footsteps of the other started down. He readied his particle gun, checking the setting to be sure it wouldn't blow the stairway apart. He waited on one side of the landing but was ready to jump over when the man started to descend the stairs on the other side. The muscles in his whole body were tense. He took several deep breaths to calm himself, making sure they weren't loud enough for the guard to hear.

Once the scuffling sound of the guard's feet was coming from the landing just above, John spun around the corner and shot. He hit the guard in the groin, almost burning a hole through his body. The man screamed in pain until John shot a second time, this one hitting higher up on his chest. The screaming stopped, and the man fell down the steps. John dodged to avoid the corpse. He averted his eyes from the horrible sight. Dwelling on the vicious act would only delay him, and then more enemy would be on them.

John sprinted up the steps. The other guard would have to be silenced before he could alert anyone else. After only a few stairs, Jen shot around and passed him, bounding up a half dozen steps at a time. Before he could reach the top, shots rang out and bullets ricocheted off the walls.

John stopped his ascent when he reached Jen. She was on her stomach, her head near the top step. It looked like she may have been hit, but the noise of the particle gun striking the stone wall above suggested otherwise. Her second shot hit home, the machine gun fire raining down stopping. She looked behind her at John and Bechler.

"Keep going to the next level," Bechler ordered.

Jen bounded the last steps to the landing on the first floor and darted around the corner, out of John's sight.

Reaching the landing, John glanced through the door and saw the dead guard on the floor, a charred crust where a face had once been.

As he rounded the corner to the next flight of steps, he felt queasy inside. He'd looked at the dead man with such little emotion, as though he was becoming calloused. He'd never killed anyone before today but, hard as he thought, he couldn't recall how many he'd brought down. Was it two or three now?

He remembered the emotionless look on Jen's face when she heard the screams of the guard whose gun had backfired. He shuddered. Had his own face looked the same when he glanced at the blackened remains a moment before? He pushed the thought from his mind and continued up. Now was not the time to think. He must act. If he tried to rationalize his actions, the delay might lead to the loss of his life or that of a friend.

When they reached the second floor, there was no sentry posted. John gulped in air, wishing he had time for rest and water. But Jen continued moving, leading them this way and that through a maze of corridors. Without her photographic memory, they'd be lost. She reached another corner and snapped to a halt, causing John to crash into her. Bechler likewise smacked into John. The force of both men battering Jen didn't push her forward though, her body rooted like a tree trunk.

Jen turned and whispered, "The children's quarters are to the right." She pulled the spy-cam from her pocket, curved the end of it around the corner and looked through the viewfinder. "There is one guard at the door and another at the end of the hall."

Bechler, who'd come alongside John, asked, "Can you take them both out?"

"I can try," she replied. "I will shoot the one at the door first, as he is closest, and then try for the second."

"John, I'll go after Jen and see if I can get the second one if she misses," whispered Bechler.

"Right," John said.

"Go when you're ready, Jen," Bechler said.

She gave the others a moment to get in place, Bechler behind her and John to his left. As Jen rounded the corner, hugging the wall, John and Bechler ran wide. John thumped the far wall after turning right, and Bechler ended up in the center of the hall.

Jen hit the guard at the door with her first shot, grazing his shoulder but not bringing him down. He screamed in pain, but before he could raise his gun to return fire, she hit him a second time, this one in the center of his chest. As his body slumped down, the guard at the far end of the hall was reacting. He jumped around the corner for cover as his gun started blazing out shots. First Bechler, then John, fired at where the guard had been a split second before, each hitting the far wall.

The guard was already around the corner when Jen fired a third time. A bullet slammed her shoulder back from its impact, and her shot hit the ceiling.

Jen crossed from the right side of the hall to the left while she ran. Being in his line of fire, John couldn't take another shot at the guard without hitting Jen in the back, so he ran towards the door too. Bechler sprinted down the right side of the hall, firing several more shots at the corner to keep the guard pinned down.

When Jen reached the door, it wouldn't open, so she took a step back and kicked hard. The hall echoed with the sharp sound of splintering wood when the frame gave way to her heavy blow. After she'd run through, John took a last shot at the corner before turning left into the doorway himself. Rebounding from Jen's kick, he shoved the door aside as he ran through. Machine guns began to blaze again, but Bechler came through the doorway a second later, slamming the splintered door closed as best he could.

The room was black, so John pulled his night-vision goggles over his eyes. He could see they were in a large room, which was marked on the plans as the children's play area. An array of toys filled the room. Dolls of all kind, toy chariots, tiny dining tables decked out for play parties, ranks of carved wooden soldiers staring at attention and stitched leather balls were everywhere one turned. It was obvious the royal children had no want of items to play with.

Each of the children's bedrooms adjoined this one. Jen was already at the door on the left wall, and John followed her into the room. She tore at a blanketed bed to find a child that wasn't there.

"What the hell!" John said. They didn't have much time and needed to gather the children as quickly as they could. Any delay would be a disaster.

"No one is in here," Jen said, turning to him with furrowed brows.

"Let's check the next bedroom," he suggested. Maybe they'd huddled together in one room after hearing the shots.

The two ran back to the playroom. Bechler was still at the hall door, making sure no one entered.

"Where's the kid?" he asked, looking back at them.

"There wasn't one in there," John called over his shoulder while he raced towards the door on the back wall of the playroom.

"I will check this bedroom," Jen said, running over to the third and last door on the right.

John hurried into the center room and found no one in its bed either. He pulled back the covers but it was definitely empty. As he turned to leave, his infrared vision caught a glowing blob of heat behind the curtain of a large wardrobe unit. One of the children must be hiding there. He bounded to the cabinet and yanked back the drape. There was a girl huddled along the side, her arms raised in front of her face as though to block an anticipated blow.

"Do not be frightened," he said in Latin. "I am here to bring you to your father."

The girl didn't uncover herself, her arms shuddering with his every word. He reached down and touched the back of her balled right hand. She recoiled and shrank back farther into the cabinet, screaming out, "Please do not hurt me! Please do not hurt me!"

Although he couldn't see her face or estimate height from her fetal position, he could still tell from her voice that this wasn't a child but a young woman. It couldn't be one of the emperor's children, nor was it his wife. He was standing in thought when Jen ran into the room.

"What is wrong?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," John snapped. "I found this woman hiding in the wardrobe, and she's frightened out of her mind." They didn't have time to solve this puzzle. They needed to find the children and get out of here fast.

"Do you know who she is?"

"No. She's too old to be one of the emperor's kids, and his wife was expecting us, so I don't think it's her either." He thrust his shoulders up and added, "She must be a nanny or something . . ."

Jen pulled a penlight from her pocket and turned it on. Although small, the bright yellow light illuminated the corner of the room.

"Were the kids in the other room then?" John asked.

"No, they were not. We need to find out where they have taken them. This woman may be able to tell us."

"Great," he grumbled. They were really in trouble since the children weren't where they were supposed to be. Hopefully, the woman knew and they weren't far. The clock was ticking.

Jen got down on one knee to talk to the woman. In a soothing tone, she said in Latin, "Miss, we are not here to harm you. We are friends of the emperor. Will it be all right if we talk for a moment?"

"Wh–what do you want?" she stuttered.

Jen's body went erect at the sound of the woman's voice. "Is your name Agacia?"

"Yes."

"I thought it was you. It is I, Flavia."

Agacia became emboldened. Although still holding her arms over her head, she spread them apart to peek at Jen. She said, "Flavia? It is you. Why are you in such strange clothes?"

"I have little time to explain, but we are here at the emperor's request. He has asked us to remove his wife and children from the palace. Placidia has threatened to kill them if the emperor does not follow all he says."

Agacia had lowered her arms and was nodding her head while she listened. "Yes, Lord Placidia is an evil man. All the servants fear him.

The thunderous rattling of automatic weapons fire began from the outer room.

Bechler called, "Hurry, reinforcements are here! We'll have to fight our way out now before more come."

"We're coming!" John called back. He turned to the others, "We need to go."

"Yes, but where? We need to find out where the family is first."

There was no arguing with Jen's logic. It would take hours to search a building this size, and every minute spent was drawing more attention away from the front gate. Soon the guards would realize the assault was only a diversion for their search inside.

The diversion brought Sue to mind. The guards had been hitting her really hard earlier. There was a jab in his heart. Could she already be seriously hurt or killed? Should he radio her and make sure she was alright? No, there wasn't enough time for that. Finding the children was the most important priority right now. He swallowed hard. _Sue is fine, Sue is fine . . ._

Jen said, "Agacia, do you know where the emperor's family is?"

"Yes. They sent me to rouse the children from bed. After a time, some guards came and took them." She was more at ease now that she knew who Jen was but still spoke with a nervous rapidity. "I heard one tell another they were to be brought to the upper party room before they locked me in here and left."

"The upper party room?" Jen questioned. "I do not remember seeing a room with that designation on the plans." She looked at John, shaking her head.

"Can you take us there?" he barked at the girl.

Agacia nodded. "Yes."

The noise escalated from the other room as the guards sprayed more gunfire into it. Several bullets zipped past John, hitting the back wall.

Bechler yelled again. "Jen, John! Get in here, damn it! They'll be coming in any second."

"Stay with her," John said. "Stay in front of her to keep any stray bullets from hitting her." He began to crawl out the door and then turned. "Kill that light too."

The light extinguished and John continued into the outer room, bringing down his goggles and face shield again. The rate of fire into the room was now at a furious pace as the swarms of bullets zipped overhead at all angles. There must be several men out there emptying clip after clip into the door before entering. Ricochets pelted off John's back while he moved forward, most bouncing off with no effect but others stinging as they hit with more force.

Bechler had barricaded the door with two stout, oak benches, and he was several yards to the side waiting to fire when the guards entered. The flimsy barrier wouldn't slow them when they decided to storm through. Machine guns were cutting the door in half, wood splinters flying in every direction. He caught sight of the hall through the fog of bullets streaming in, a patch of wall emerging through the ever-widening gash in the door. The sight of the stone brought back the memory of his earlier mistake when his particle gun was set too high. It sparked an idea of how to get out of their current predicament.

He pulled the particle gun from his side and turned it up all the way, the corner of his mouth inching up. What he was about to do would irritate Bechler. Taking careful aim at the wall on the far side of the hall, he pressed the trigger. An enormous concussion shook the floor under him when the wall beyond vaporized in a wave of intense heat. Flaming chunks of door flew at him, slamming into his face shield and knocking the gun from his hand.

"Holy shit!" John cried. These damn guns were powerful!

"God damn it, John! Are you trying to kill us?" yelled Bechler.

His ploy had affected Bechler as expected, so he laughed uproariously. "No, I wasn't trying to kill us, just trying to get us out of here."

His bloody right hand hurt from the smoldering wood that had hit it, but he was enjoying himself far too much to take notice. His riotous laugh died down as the dust started to settle, and he looked around, finding his gun. Rising from the floor, he moved towards the blown out doorway. He pushed aside the smoldering remnant of a bench and entered the dark hall, the blast having extinguished all the oil lamps. Through his goggles he saw that the wall on the opposite side was gone and the floor above had collapsed down. He ducked his head under a low-hanging beam and worked his way down the hall. It was empty except for rubble and charred bodies strewn everywhere. The earlier giddiness evaporated and his stomach turned as he took in the results of what he'd done. Now that the dead bodies were visible, he was sickened. As he stumbled back towards the door, Bechler was walking from the other end of the hallway.

"It's all clear this way," Bechler said.

At first, all John was able to do was nod his head, gulping hard to force down the acid from his stomach. Determined not to show weakness to the agent, he collected himself, "This way is clear too." He called through the doorway, "Okay, Jen, let's go. We have to get to the party room."

*****

Sue's radio crackled to life with John and Cassius talking back and forth in Latin.

_Thank heaven, John isn't hurt_ , she said to herself, breathing a sigh.

After several exchanges between the two men, John called to her, "Sue, can you hear me?"

"Yeah, I'm here," she replied

"Thank God!" John exclaimed in a shaky voice. "I was so worried about how hard they were hitting you."

Sue raised her brow. By his voice, he'd been concerned for her safety, despite him pushing hard to have Jen with him in the palace. Well, she and John _were_ good friends, and it was nice to know how much he cared.

John continued, "How are things going?"

"Okay so far. I think we've thinned them out a bit. They're not hitting me as hard now."

"Good! Cassius is going to start firing some of the higher-power shells. He's run out of the low-power ones."

"All right. That should get rid of a few more. I'll shift the laser around to the left side of the gate. That seems to be the direction most of them are firing from now."

 "How's the ammo holding out?"

"I've used about half but should be in good shape now that I'm firing less. How are you guys coming along?"

"We're heading up to the third floor. The family wasn't where they were supposed to be. The guards moved them."

"Shit!" she exclaimed. They must have moved them because of the attack. She blew out a breath. "Hurry and find them. I'll be shifting out soon. Once my diversion is gone, they'll start focusing on you."

"I know. We're hurrying!" Bechler snapped at her as he cut in. "Over and out."

A high-power mortar shell hit and Sue went to the laser to shift it to the left edge of the remaining wall. When she finished, something struck the window frame and bounced back into the street. It took several seconds for it to sink in, but they'd lobbed a grenade at her.

When it exploded in the street, Sue's pulse raced. The body armor should protect her from all but the luckiest of shots from a gun, but a grenade was another matter. The concussion from the high explosive would be fatal at close range.

Sue scooped up one of her napalm grenades. It was critical, now, to use them and drive away the thrower. She pulled the pin and chucked it out the window. It exploded in a bright yellow flash, spreading the fiery jelly in a wide circle. As the flare grew brighter, a terrifying screech arose. She froze at the sound, unable to do anything but listen to the screams of agony. Her mind raced in circles as she reached under her helmet to clamp a hand over the radio headset. It was no use. The wailing continued to bore its way into her ear until her own sobs finally drowned it out. The pain the man must be feeling from the sticky gel burning his flesh down to bone was unimaginable.

She was still weeping when a bullet hit her face shield. Her head jerked back from the force, but then she threw body backwards, her eyes wide as she gasped for air. When she hit the floor, her head struck the hard wood with a thud. Despite the helmet's cushioning, she felt woozy from the blow. She stopped sobbing, her chest so tight she almost couldn't breathe. She rolled onto her stomach, then onto hands and knees, listening. She could no longer hear the screaming man outside, but gunshots were still swishing in. With most of them hitting the right side of the room, she'd be safer in the opposite corner, so she tried to crawl there. She'd just come around the back of the Gatling gun when a banging on the door started.

Sue snapped her head around just as a stream of bullets perforated the door and a shower of wood splinters flew into the room. Her mouth dropped open, and she drew in a quick breath, her heart pounding. The gas should've knocked out anyone coming through the hall. They must have gas masks! They'd be through the door in seconds and kill her!

She flattened down to her stomach and wormed her way out of direct fire from the door. After a few more rounds, the shooting stopped and she lay there for several seconds before grasping what happened. The gas took time to work, and in that interval, they'd reached the door.

Sue inched her way to the nitrous tanks and looked at the pressure gauge. With plenty of gas remaining, she gave several turns to the regulator to thicken the cloud in the hall. She got back onto her hands and knees, still a bit woozy from the blow to her head. Her eyes widened when she looked at the door. The bullets had peppered it with holes, and a chunk the size of her fist was missing from the center.

Not thinking of any danger other than the nitrous that was seeping in through the door, she shot to her feet and ran to the can of foam insulation. Rushing back to the door, it exploded into a mass of oozing froth when a bullet went through its side.

"Damn it!" Sue screamed, dropping the blob to the floor. She grabbed the final can she had and held it so her body would shield it from the missiles zipping through the window. She raced to the door, foamed the holes shut and got back on the floor. She lay there for a moment, lightheaded from the gas. Pulling the Gatling gun remote from her pocket, she gave several more bursts of fire.

The swarm of bullets intensified, but it was somehow different. They were not only striking the ceiling and high up on the walls but were now hitting mid-wall and even lower. She got down on her stomach again and inched her way to the window to get a better look. The guards had moved to the second-story windows and were firing across at her. It was only a matter of time before they went to the third floor and began firing down on her.

She inched her way to the Gatling gun and released a catch on its mounting. They'd configured the gun to move up and down as it arced back and forth. It had been set to rise only a few degrees before working its way back down again, keeping the fire towards the ground. Releasing the catch would allow it to go up to the roofline before coming down and would sweep the entire face of the building. This would only stop them for a short time, though. Once the guards learned the pattern of its sweep, they'd anticipate when it was coming back to them and take cover until it passed.

Sue pressed the firing button and held it down. Hopefully, it would take out most of the men in the first few passes. She inched her way over to the safest place in the room: the corner where the window wall met the floor. She lay there, her head towards the Gatling gun, and watched while the thundering gun sputtered out, round after round. Spent shell casings littered the floor, and the pile climbed ever higher.

The firing from outside slowed. Just as she breathed out in a sigh of relief, her heart seemed to stop in its perpetual pulsing while time slowed. First one, then a second grenade flew in through the window, landing, then rolling down the opposite side of the pile of brass casings. The napalm on the street must have burned out, allowing a second wave of grenade throwers.

Sue's mind raced with indecision, thoughts twisting and winding through her head as time stretched out to infinity. But as time ticked on, her muscles relaxed and the inevitability of what was to happen struck. There was nothing to do now but curl up in a ball with the Gatling remote under her. Her last thought when the shockwave battered her was to hope the blast didn't damage the Gatling gun and that the weight of her dead body would keep the remote pressed so it would fire until the ammo ran out.

## CHAPTER 12

Jen pulled her eye away from the spy-cam viewfinder. Over the sound of machine gun fire, she asked Agacia, "Is the party room you spoke of around this corner?"

"Yes, ma'am," the young woman replied.

"This room is marked as an upper reception hall on the building plans."

"Great," grumbled Bechler. "That's a damn big room. There could be dozens of guards in there with them."

They were standing off a large hall at the top of the main stairway at the front of the palace. Large windows faced out to the main gate. Opposite it was two security guards posted at the entrance to the reception room. At the windows were three guards firing at Sue across the street.

Jen was uncertain of how to proceed. While she had several hostage rescues stored in memory, none were similar to this. She was unable to generate the creative leap to solve the problem.

Bechler stepped next to Jen and took the spy-cam from her. He looked through it for almost a full minute before turning back to the group.

"Have the girl walk past the two guards at the door and distract them so they look away from us. You and I will step around the corner, Jen, and take them out, you the left, me the right. The three at the window are making so much noise they won't notice at first. We'll take them out next."

"What about me?" John asked, putting his hand towards Bechler to get the spy-cam.

Bechler gave him the device. "I don't think all of us can get around the corner fast enough. But you could go wide around Jen and me, and start firing at the guards at the windows."

"Okay," John said, looking around the corner through the eyepiece.

Jen explained the plan to Agacia. Her eyes wide, she shook her head. "I cannot do that, Flavia. Those guards will hurt me and the noise . . ." She put her hands over her ears. "I cannot do as you ask."

Jen browsed her catalog of responses to human emotion and found that, in times of stress, physical contact could comfort another. She put her hand on the young woman's shoulder. "I promise I will not let them hurt you."

"No, Flavia! No!" The girl started sobbing, her body convulsing.

Agacia was working herself into a panic like before. Again Jen consulted the experiences stored in her memory. She shook her head. There was no possible way the girl could do what they asked. Even if she were able to get Agacia around the corner, the woman would break down once near the guards.

There was another emotion traversing through her neural network, and she determined that it was pity. She felt sorry for the girl and could empathize. She identified with Agacia's inexperience and the intimidation she felt towards the uncertainty of the world.

"That is all right Agacia, we will do something else." Turning to Bechler, she said, "She is too scared."

"Yeah, I see that," Bechler said, looking disgusted as he shook his head.

"I think we can do it without her help," John said, turning back to the others. "With all the noise from the three at the window firing, we've got enough distraction. We can just go around the corner shooting. Hell, we're far enough away that I don't think they'll even see us in their peripheral vision. They'll be dead before they know what's going on. Even if you guys miss the first shot and they're able to get a few rounds off, nobody will know if it's them firing or the three at the window."

Jen's analysis indicated that the plan was sound. A smile formed on her face as her pride in John increased in strength in her neural pathways. She also noted that he didn't show scorn towards Agacia like Bechler had. More and more she was receiving confirmation that she'd made the right choice for a mate.

Bechler nodded. "I suppose you're right. Same plan as before but no girl." His eyes narrowed. "Make sure your particle gun is set low, John."

John looked down, suppressing a smile at Bechler's glare. "It is."

The three lined up at the corner: Jen first, Bechler behind and John to the left of them both. Jen would go towards the middle of the hall and Bechler would swing around to her right. John was to arc around them both to the left and try for the first guard firing out the window.

"On three," Bechler said.

On cue, Jen ran out and took careful aim. Her base programming introduced potentials into her neural network to resist pulling the trigger. Although she'd lessened the strength of these signals before starting their mission like she'd told the others she would, she was still feeling a reluctance to harm humans each time a confrontation arose. Ignoring the weaker, opposing signal, she fired the particle gun and hit her mark.

Neither of the guards had noticed her coming around the corner. The second one only started to react when he saw his comrade slump. Bechler got off a shot but only hit him in the arm. The man was about to scream when Jen hit his head with her second shot. Someone yelled out and then several dull blows slammed into her chest.

When her gaze finally reached the window, tracer bullets were streaming through, and the guards were turned with their backs to the walls. The Gatling gun had started to rake the third floor, forcing the men to turn and take cover. When they did, one of them saw what was happening to the guards at the doors. He immediately called out and started shooting.

Jen was taking aim at the closest man as his chest flared for a split second when John hit his mark. Several more rounds struck Jen while she shifted focus to the two remaining guards. The flash of a gun caught her eye as a guard fired from a prone position on the floor. Jen shot at him and missed, her aim thrown off by the impact of bullets hitting her body armor again. Her shot struck the floor in front of him, spraying chunks of heated stone into his face. As he shrieked from the sharp splinters piercing his eyes, a hole smoked into his head from Bechler's second shot. Jen turned her focus to the last man, who was now also prone on the floor. John had also turned to him, and his shot struck just before hers, causing the guard's head to burn to a char.

Jen ran forward with the others following, Agacia coming around the corner when she saw all was clear. They hugged the wall opposite the windows to stay out of the trajectory of the Gatling bullets. When they got to the double doors of the reception room, Jen pulled the spy-cam from her pocket. She snaked it under the doors and peered through the eyepiece into a large hall. She couldn't see all the way to the left or right. Either the wall the door penetrated was a few feet thick, or wing walls were sticking out into the room perpendicular to the door, blocking her peripheral view of the large hall. She slid the lens all the way to the bottom far left of the doors and could see the right wall where a group of four people was sitting in front of a massive fireplace. One was a woman dressed in a flowing silk gown, who must be the empress.

The furniture was arranged around the hearth in a horseshoe shape, with a single chair across from the fire and two benches running at a ninety-degree angle towards it. The empress sat on a bench with her back to the door. With her, were three guards with rifles standing on the floor next to them: stock to the ground, barrel pointing to the ceiling. One of the men was in the chair, and the other two on the far bench, their faces angled so they could see the door.

Jen shifted her body and slid the lens to the far right of the doors to get a better view of the left side of the room, but there was no one there. There was no sign of the children.

She rose from her kneeling position and told the others what she'd seen.

"Let me take a look," Bechler said, snatching the camera from her. He got down and peered through the eyepiece, cursing under his breath. After shifting to both sides, he rose. "Damn it! We're running out of time. We'll have to get the empress and ask her where the kids are."

"Let me have it a second," John said, reaching for the camera. He too went to the floor and looked into the room.

Another blast of bullets came through the window from the Gatling gun when its aim rose to the third floor again. Bechler ducked his head as shards of wood and stone hailed down on them. He looked at the bank of windows and exclaimed, "What the hell is she doing over there? She's wasting ammunition shooting up here now."

He vocalized what Jen was already thinking. Something was wrong. The Gatling gun firing hadn't ceased for some time, and Sue wouldn't continue to shoot like that unless there was a problem. By Jen's internal chronometer, it was almost time for Sue to shift back, and she may be trying to finish off the last of her rounds. This was doubtful though.

She flipped her radio microphone on. "Sue, are you there?" She paused for a reply then said again, "Sue, please respond."

Bechler's anxiety was evident in his voice as he called too, "Sue, are you there?"

John sprang from the floor and looked at Jen with wide eyes. "What's wrong?"

"I do not know," Jen replied.

His look created a discomfort in her neural potentials unlike any other she'd felt before. She couldn't pinpoint its exact source but could sense a definite decrease in the strength of John's feelings for her. Needing John to love her back, she felt a pang course through her neural net. She'd tried so hard for his love and couldn't bear it if he slipped away from her. There was another potential fighting within her too though. The anguish she saw on John's face induced sorrow in her network. She was compelled to ease his mind in some way.

Jen said, "Sue should not continue to fire like that; however, I do not believe we should be concerned at this point, Her lack of response may indicate a failure of her radio."

"They may be hitting her hard," Bechler said. "So hard she can't get a look out the window to see that no one is on this floor firing at her anymore."

"Yes, that is probably it," Jen said, hoping to ease John's concern. "I will have Cassius increase his firing and also start to drop the napalm rounds." This would make the entire compound in front of the building an inferno and drive everyone away.

The Gatling gun had worked its way down the building again. Jen ran to the window to call Cassius and to see what was happening near Sue. She could hear John and Bechler talking in low voices when she left them by the door but filtered it out as she called on her radio. "Cassius, are you there?"

"Aye, miss," he replied after a pause.

"There is something wrong with Sue. She is not responding to us and has not stopped firing for over a minute."

She saw the Gatling gun fire its last rounds, the streaking hot tracers ceasing to stream from the window. Its barrels were still revolving around while the gun arced back and forth. Sue still had the firing button depressed even though the ammo was out. That confirmed it. Something bad had happened to Sue.

"Cassius, we need to take the pressure off of Sue. Start firing as fast as you can for the next five rounds, and then fire every minute after that. Start using the ones with the yellow stripe on them."

"Aye, miss, I'll shoot the yellow fish out." Because of the streamlined shape and fins on the rounds, Cassius referred to the mortar shells as fish.

Jen headed back to the others just as John and Agacia ran off down the hall. She called to Bechler, "Where are they going?"

"John noticed there was a decorative balcony with niches for statues on three sides of the room. He's having Agacia take him to an access door so he can fire down into the room if we need it."

Although the plans didn't show balconies, she'd noticed the arched alcoves high up on the opposite wall when she'd looked in earlier. Now it was obvious why the wall with the entrance door was so thick. The balcony was over the doorway, supported by the wing walls.

"Good," she said.

"He'll radio us when he's there."

Jen was back on the floor with the spy-cam making sure the guards weren't coming out when an explosion boomed. An accompanying flash of flames swirled outside the windows, a wave of heat striking her when she turned to look. When the initial flare faded, fiery blobs of jelly oozed down from the tops of the windows.

"Shit!" exclaimed Bechler. "That damn thing hit the front of the building."

"The laser must be aimed at the palace," Jen said as she stood.

Again the potentials shifted back and forth in her network. Sue wouldn't point the laser at the building, so something must have happened to alter it without her manipulation. Sue must be incapacitated in some way.

"Damn it, something is wrong with Sue," Bechler said. "We can't wait anymore. Once the framing under the clay roof tiles starts to catch fire, this whole building will go up."

He hit the button to activate his radio microphone. "John, a napalm round just hit the front of the building. We're going in now before the fire spreads."

"Okay, I'm just getting into place anyway," John replied in their headsets.

Bechler went to the double doors of the reception hall, and Jen followed. "I'll go left, you right. I'll take everyone from the empress' left and you everyone right. Let's go," he said, unholstering his particle gun.

Jen pushed the door open on the right while Bechler did the same on the left. They barreled into the room; weapons raised and ready to fire. When she reached the corner of the wing wall protruding into the room, Jen got off her first shot, hitting the man sitting across from the empress. She was about to take her second shot when John's voice blared in her ear.

"Stop! It's a trap!"

*****

Sue started to roll over as she roused from unconsciousness. She stopped and flinched when a sharp pain stabbed into her back. It felt like nails were being driven into her shoulders. When she cracked open her eyes, her mind was a fog. Where was she? The shadows before her coalesced into a stone wall as the orange light streaming in from the window made it flicker. A stench of burning gasoline pierced her nose when she inhaled her first deep breath. She shuddered to full consciousness like someone had put smelling salts beneath her nostrils. She knew where she was now. She remembered the grenades exploding but was unsure of anything after that. Her surroundings were quiet now but for the periodic boom of a striking mortar and the incessant crackle of the flames outside. There was a stab in her side when she tried to shift her body again. The remote for the Gatling gun was still underneath her. She pulled it out with her free hand and pressed the button, but nothing happened. The ammo spent and the battery discharged, it was useless now. She threw it aside.

Not able to rotate onto her back, Sue scooted away from the wall and rolled onto her stomach. Rising to hands and knees, her joints ached as though afflicted with arthritis. Through the pain, she muscled herself to her feet, swaying around as though drunk. She put her shoulder against the wall until her head cleared. She needed to check in with the others to let them know she was alright and to find out how much the plans had changed. She grabbed her radio, but it was dead, a flying fragment having pierced it.

Her thoughts went to John and she trembled. Searching further for the royal family only meant more time in the palace and a higher chance for him to get caught, injured or killed. Her legs became weak.

She looked at her watch, brushing off the dusty dial to read it. How long had she been unconscious? Ten minutes? No, more than fifteen. Her time here was growing short, so she started to prepare for her eventual shift.

The guards left her to work in peace. They'd stopped shooting due to either the Gatling gun no longer firing or the inferno on the palace grounds. She didn't care which, only that they left her alone.

The plan was to not leave any weapons behind for Placidia, so she needed to destroy what she hadn't used. The primary task was to set a thermite charge to the Gatling gun. Although they wouldn't have ammunition, Bechler felt it best to destroy the gun so as not to give Placidia more ideas about weapons. Since she had napalm grenades left over, she placed these below the gun too. As the thermite melted the gun to slag, it would drop off onto the grenades and set them off. The building would burn down and would leave no trace of what they'd done here. Hopefully, all the occupants would get out. She didn't want to cause the death of anyone else, the memory of the man screaming from the napalm grenade still making her shiver.

Sue wired the detonator and set the timer for fifteen minutes. That should be more than enough time for her to shift out, but if not, she'd reset it for more time in ten minutes. The last thing she did before going back to the filthy mattress was to check the nitrous oxide tanks to see if they still had sufficient charge.

She didn't sit on the mattress when she got to it, the razor sharp bits of brass shell casings having peppered it. Instead, she went to the corner where she'd been, cleared a spot on the floor and sat. With nothing urgent to occupy her mind, she worried about John and hoped that the others were alright too. She prayed that he wasn't sticking his neck out too far to impress the robot. Although angry with him for wanting to, her concern for his safety overpowered it.

She tried to force herself not to think about them anymore. She was so tired and weak from the grenade blast that she just wanted to get home and get some sleep. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes to relax until the shift happened.

*****

John fumbled for his microphone switch and exclaimed, "Stop, it's a trap!" A ball formed in the pit of his stomach as the terrible chronicle played out before him.

John and Agacia had just gotten to the edge of the shadowed balcony niche when Bechler had radioed him that they were going in. They were in the first of the gallery's arched alcoves along the wall opposite the fireplace, next to the corner where this wall met with that of the entrance door wall. A polished white statue stood between the girl and himself, a soulless observer of what was to come.

From his perspective, John hadn't been able to see the entrance but had a clear shot at all those sitting by the fire. It was while he was assessing the shots he could make that Agacia had warned him the empress was not in the room. The woman seated there was Helva, a servant. It was then that it hit him. A trap had been set for them!

After Jen and Bechler got off a few shots, four guards, hiding underneath the overhang above the entrance, came out from under it. Two had sprung around the right wing wall flanking the door, coming up behind Jen, and two others had circled about the other wall, running around to Bechler.

John yelled his warning to Jen and Bechler, but it was too late. The guards were already on them, holding barrels to the backs of their necks between the helmet and collar. His two friends froze, first from the sound of his warning, then from the barrels on their necks.

The sound of the guard's command echoed in the cavernous room when one of them ordered the two to drop their weapons. Jen did so as she turned to Bechler and translated the order for him. He likewise dropped his gun with a resounding clatter when it rebounded several times off the marble floor.

John rested his gun hand back on the rail. He was about to fire when the sight before him forced him to freeze as firm as the statue next to him. Placidia himself swaggered from under the balcony, his arrogance apparent even at this distance. The man's braggadocio resounded throughout the hall.

"Ah, my friends, you have come to me just as I expected," Placidia's voice boomed out. He walked around to confront Jen and Bechler. "Please remove your helmets so we may speak more comfortably."

Jen translated for Bechler while she removed her helmet, clutching it to her chest. Placidia's smile faded though when Bechler emerged from under his helmet.

Placidia snapped his head towards one of the guards and bellowed, "John Fuller must still be about. You and Drusus search the halls for him and do not come back without him or his head."

Two of the guards flanking Jen and Bechler walked towards the entrance and disappeared beneath the overhang, the doors thudding closed a moment later. The remaining guards continued to hold the guns to their heads while the last by the fireplace moved to Placidia's side. Helva, who'd impersonated the empress, rose from the floor where she'd flung herself when the shooting started. She walked towards Placidia and stood behind him, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

Placidia looked at Jen. "You I seem to recall being with John Fuller when he showed me his thrower." He turned to Bechler. "You I do not know."

"We underestimated you," Jen said. "You expected us to come to this room."

"Yes. My spies have done well for me and gave warning of your plans," Placidia boasted. "You will tell me where John Fuller is now."

"Why do you believe he is here?" Jen asked.

Placidia chuckled, "Of course he is. I am sure he would want to see firsthand as he outwits an ignorant, backward barbarian such as me. Now, tell me where or I will be forced to hurt you."

John pondered his options. Despite Jen's hyper-quick reflexes, there was no way for her to do anything as long as she and Bechler had guns to their heads. While she could spin around fast enough to take the weapon from her own guard, Bechler couldn't. And there was the third guard to contend with. John rubbed the back of his neck. It was up to him to act, but how?

As he continued to look at his friends below, his eye caught the fireplace, and an idea popped in his mind. Designed to heat the large hall in winter, its firebox stood taller and wider than the height of a man. However, its fire was small now and was the main light source for the room. Only a few of the oil lamps throughout the hall were burning, with their flames set low, helping to obscure the identity of the decoy empress.

While Placidia may have anticipated their moves up until now, he didn't expect someone to be in John's location. He may not even be aware that there was an access hatch for the balcony. After all, the servants would only use it to keep the white marble figures cleaned and polished. John's appearance there should provide a sufficient distraction.

He whispered to Agacia, "Go back to the access door and wait for me there. It may not be safe for you here in a moment."

"Yes, Lord."

John lifted his face shield and lowered the goggles back over his eyes, turning on his night vision. His pulse quickened when he rose to his feet. He took several deep breaths before calling out across the room, "Placidia, you wish to find me! I am here. I will surrender if you promise not to hurt my friends."

*****

Jen looked up with the others when John called out but wasn't surprised like those around her. This was what she hoped he'd do as a distraction. Although just perceptible to the others as he stood in the shadows, she could see him clearly with her extended vision. His night-vision goggles were on, and a particle gun was in the hand of his outstretched arm. He obviously had a plan to free them, and her love for him was reaffirmed. She turned her body left to face John. Her direct and peripheral vision encompassed everyone around her. The guard who'd been behind her holding the gun to her head was now to her far left. Having been rattled by John's outcry, he'd turned away from her and was pointing the gun up towards the balcony.

Placidia was to her right. The guard who'd walked from the fireplace was there flanking him with his gun pointed at John, ready to shoot if the order was given. Helva was at the very edge of Jen's vision, standing behind Placidia and to his left.

In front of Jen was Bechler with his guard still behind him. This sentry seemed more experienced than the others. His gun was still at Bechler's head. He'd only looked at John for a moment before giving his full attention back to his task. Jen's calculations indicated that she could pull the gun away from Bechler's head before the guard pulled the trigger. But she waited to see if John could improve their odds.

Placidia, who was visibly unnerved, composed himself and said, "John, you are here! I am unable to see you in the dark. Why not come down and join us?"

Jen smiled at the consul's shocked face. Although it seemed that Placidia had been one step ahead of them throughout the mission, John had outsmarted him by being up in the balcony.

"Yes, I will come down. Please do not shoot me though," pleaded John, his voice quivering.

Jen made a comprehensive audio analysis of John's current voice pattern, comparing it to examples she had stored in her memory while he was in different emotional states. It didn't match any on file, so he must be making his voice shake on purpose to sound frightened to Placidia. It was a ruse to put the consul at ease.

"My men will not shoot. You have my pledge." Placidia assured John with a grin.

John swooped his outstretched arms down. As he did, he snapped his visor closed with one hand and brought his gun down with the other. This was her cue. Jen launched herself forward to the guard holding Bechler before John's face shield was even down. She slammed the gun from the guard's hand with her helmet and pulled Bechler to the ground.

As the two dropped to the floor, the room came to full illumination when a blinding flash and a massive concussion boomed out. As Jen rolled, she caught the trailing flare of the exploding fireplace. John had fired at it, his particle gun set to maximum. Once the initial flash of the vaporized logs died out, the room was in near darkness.

Shots burst out as the guards fired at John, each blaze from the ends of the barrels pulsing out like a strobe. Although certain potentials in her neural network were compelling her to go after the guards shooting at him, John was relatively safe. He was a difficult target in the darkness, and his body armor protected him. Jen ignored the impulse and went for Bechler's particle gun instead, which was still on the floor. Once in hand, she worked her way towards Placidia, staying low to keep the line of fire clear for John.

Another flash lit up the room when John's second shot burned off the head and torso of the man who'd guarded Bechler.

Placidia had gone down to the floor and was crawling towards a door. When close enough, Jen grabbed his leg. Another flash lit up the room. The machine gun firing stopped. She yanked hard on the consul's leg, causing him to slam down hard on his stomach, his body scraping on the stone tile when she continued to pull. With his free leg, he kicked at her with the sole of his sandal and smashed it squarely into her nose. She ignored the attack, got on his back, and twisted his arm around behind to restrain him.

The room flared to life one last time when John took out the third guard. When the flash subsided, the room grew dim again, only a few of the oil lamps still burning.

John called, "Jen; I'll be down in a minute. Find out where the empress is."

Jen's dislike of Placidia increased in potential in her neural network. In her previous study of humans, she'd run across men such as him who understood force alone. Given all the trouble he'd caused, it was in their best interest to not be gentle with him. She yanked him to his feet.

 "Where is the empress?"

"I will not tell you," Placidia grunted out.

Although Jen's base programming to resist harming humans was already decreased in strength lower than she'd ever experienced, she reduced the threshold further to deal with Placidia.

"As you said to us earlier, 'Tell me or I will be forced to hurt you.'" Jen wrenched up harder on his arm.

Placidia groaned again as he squirmed in her unyielding grip. His voice cracking, he said, "My guards will be back any moment. You had better run while you can."

"We have already dealt with many of your guards. A few more will pose little difficulty."

"What's he saying?" Bechler asked.

"He will not tell me where she is."

Bechler punched Placidia hard in the stomach. The consul cried out in pain not only from the blow, but when he doubled forward, Jen pulled his arm up.

"Did he tell us where she is yet?" John asked as he came through the door.

"Not yet, but I just gave him some motivation," Bechler answered.

"Where are the empress and her children?" John asked.

"I will not tell you," Placidia answered, through gritted teeth.

"We have no time for your delays."

"You may kill me if you like, but I will not tell where she is. It would be better to die by your hand than to live by the emperor's," Placidia asserted.

Jen shook her head. They wouldn't make him talk. In her study of humans, she'd come across this phenomenon before. For some, physical pain and death were preferable to humiliation. As much as Lucius would want to, he couldn't kill the consul and expect the people to fall in line behind him. Placidia had many allies that would rally the mobs against the emperor for killing the consul for no apparent reason. Lucius' only way out would be to arrest Placidia and conduct a very public trial of his corruption. Lucius' standing would rise among the people for bringing this to light, and all would fall in behind him. The public would demonize Placidia for his crimes, and even his allies would turn evidence against him to save their own skins. He'd be lower than a slave or beggar, and this would be unbearable to him. To fall from being the most powerful man in the known world to that of the lowest of subclass, something less than the most diseased scum of the human race, would be a million times worse than death.

Jen looked into John's eyes while he stared back at her. As though reading her mind, he said, "We're not going to get anything from him. Now what?"

"Why? What did he say?" Bechler asked, his head shifting back and forth between John and Jen.

"He won't tell us anything. He said he'd be better off if we killed him now than he'd be once the emperor takes back control. He's right."

"Son of a bitch!" Bechler yelled, his eyes narrowing. "I'll beat it out of him then."

"That will not work," Jen said, the potentials already set firm in her neural network. "We need to come up with another plan."

"And quick too," John said, glancing at his watch. "You still have a lot of time here, Jen, but Vince and I shift out in less than an hour."

The three stood in silence, each isolated in their thoughts. Since arriving, they'd been in a continuous mode of action. Everything had been planned ahead of time or what they needed to do next was apparent. Now, with the plan having broken down and no obvious course of action, they seemed paralyzed to act.

Agacia came to John as he stood in deliberation. She asked, "Lord, may we speak?"

It took John a moment to respond. "Hmm? Yes . . . yes, we can speak."

She led him away from the others and whispered. With her keen hearing, Jen heard the girl say, "I think we can find out where the empress is without Lord Placidia's help."

"How is that?" John asked.

"The woman over there," she said, jerking her head towards Helva. "She is the empress's personal servant and is very close to her. If she is part of Lord Placidia's deception, she may be the spy of which he spoke."

John's eyes shot towards Helva then back to Agacia. "So she may know where the empress is?"

"Yes, Lord."

Placidia squirmed in Jen's grip, as though he may have overheard some of what was said. She clutched him tighter, pulling his arm up higher to remind him he couldn't escape her restraint.

John went to Helva and grabbed her upper arms. "Where are the empress and the children?"

The woman tried to shrink away from him. He clutched harder, his fingers gouging into her flesh and pinching to the bone. He asked again, shouting this time, "Where is the empress?"

Jen flinched, her eyes going wide. The force John was using on Helva was not like him. He was always a gentle person in the past. Had the experience they'd just gone through hardened him in some way?

Helva shrieked, "I cannot tell you anything! He will kill me if I do!"

"That is right, woman, keep quiet," said Placidia. "I will do worse than kill you if you talk."

Jen yanked up hard on Placidia's arm, almost dislocating it. The consul screamed in agony as Jen bellowed in his ear, "Stay quiet, or I will break your arm!"

 "He will kill no one," John said. "He is our prisoner now, and we are taking him with us."

 "Please, Lord, let me speak with her for a moment," Agacia said.

"Very well." He released Helva. "But be quick. We have little time."

Agacia took Helva by the arm and led her away from the group, her gentle voice calming the woman.

Bechler looked at his watch. "We've got to go now, or we won't have enough time to get them out of here." He shifted from one foot to the other several times then said, "I better check the hall to make sure nobody sneaks up on us." He opened the door, and intense light poured in from the corridor. He slammed it shut and walked back to where John was standing. "It's an inferno out there. We won't have to worry about someone coming in that way, but we'll have to use another exit to get out."

John looked towards the doors, seeming to stare beyond them and to the building across the street. "I wonder what happened to Sue? She never did get back to us."

"I do not know, John," Jen said, his distressed look again causing her discomfort. Despite this, she was once more compelled to ease his mind. "I am sure she is alright though. As I said before, her radio must have failed."

"Sure, John," Bechler assured him. "I'm positive she's fine."

Before John could respond, Agacia walked up to them. "Helva has told me where the royal family is. I will take you there if you wish."

*****

John shook his head as he blew out a breath. They'd come almost full circle. They were in the basement kitchen only three doors down a second hall from the troop barracks. If they'd known earlier that Placidia was holding the family in the servants' dining room, they could've completed the rescue in minutes. At this point, it didn't matter. It was just good to be closer to the escape route. Time was slipping away.

In this dark hour of the night, the kitchen was deserted, so they lit an oil lamp to see by. They searched through the kitchen and surrounding pantries and found a stack of linen towels that they bound into a makeshift rope, lashing Placidia's hands behind his back. They wadded one up and stuffed it into his mouth, muffling his protest when they did so. They locked him in a pantry and moved into the hall beyond the kitchen.

Jen looked under the door to the dining room with the spy-cam. She shifted the lens left and right before rising and handing the device to Bechler. After watching a few moments, he rose and motioned for them to go back down the hall.

When in the kitchen, he said to John, "There are only two guards in there with them. I think they're there to keep the wife and kids in the room rather than fight off an attack."

"The whole family is in there then?" John asked.

"Yep, the kids are asleep on a blanket on the floor, and the empress is at the table with her head down. One guard is sitting in a chair next to the door, and the second is at the table across from the empress."

John rubbed his chin. "Can we rush them?"

"Well . . . we could try, but I'd rather get one of them out of there first, so we only have one to deal with inside."

"How do you suggest we do that?" John asked, crossing his arms. How could they get one of the guards into the hall without putting the other one on alert? If they made a noise and one came out to investigate, they'd take him out, but the other could react by putting a gun to the head of the empress until he found out what was happening.

"I'm not sure," Bechler said. "We'll have to come up with something to lure the guy by the door into the hall."

 "I do not agree," Jen said. "I believe I can kick in the door, shoot the guard at the table and go around the door to get the second one. He should be startled enough that I can get him before he starts shooting."

"I don't like it," Bechler said, shaking his head. "If he reacts fast enough, he might be able to get off a few rounds before you kill him. A ricochet could hit one of the family members."

"The chance of that happening is minimal," Jen said.

"Wait a minute," John interrupted. "Do you mean the guard is on the hinge side of the door?"

"Yeah," Bechler replied. "I think the idea is if someone comes in the room, they won't know he's there until he starts shooting at them from behind.

"How close to the door? Is he right by it?"

"Yep. The chair is about a foot from the door jamb," Bechler said.

"Good," John said, grinning wide. "We've seen how fast Jen is. Why not have her open the door as fast as she can and swing it around, so it smashes the guard behind it. You can be out in the hall with your particle gun aimed in the general direction of the guy at the table. Once Jen's clear, you can take final aim and get him. Everything should happen fast enough that he won't be able to get his gun up to fire."

"Hell, he isn't even holding his gun. It's propped against the chair next to him," Bechler said.

"That's even better. There's no way he'll have enough time to get it," John said. "What do you think, Jen?"

She grinned at him. "It is a fabulous idea, John. Thank you for asking my opinion."

John flashed a smile in return. Although she wasn't human and occasionally seemed naive in certain areas, he respected her opinion. With her quick mind and volumes of information, she was extremely intelligent and very perceptive at times. Although he'd become very close to Sue, sometimes it seemed he was drawing even closer to Jen.

John looked at Bechler. "Well, should we go with my plan?"

"Yep, let's go."

Agacia stayed in the kitchen while the others went back down the hall. Bechler motioned for Jen to give him the spy-cam and then went down to look under the door. When he stood, he motioned for the others to get in position. Jen was at the door, Bechler behind her, and John beside him to the right, the two men holding particle guns ready to fire. Bechler nodded for Jen to proceed.

Jen eased the latch up and then sprang into action. In a blur, the door was open as she ran full speed around the arc. Her velocity was incredible. There was a loud crack when the door impacted the guard.

As momentum continued to propel her around, Jen cleared the opening of the doorway and John got a clean aim of the man at the table. Time slowed as his mind raced from adrenaline overload. What was wrong with Bechler that he didn't fire? The moment stretched to infinity, and still no shot. Since Bechler didn't shoot, John willed his finger to press the particle gun's contact.

A scream peeled out from the man behind the door and the crunching of bone and splintering of wood grew ever louder. When John's finger reached the final micrometers of the trigger's travel, the face of the man at the table burned from brown to black as it turned towards him. When his firing button hit home, the face burst into flames from the combination of Bechler and John's beams hitting it one after the other.

From the corner of his eye, John caught the door edge spinning around when the hinges ripped from the frame from Jen's massive thrust. The screaming muffled, then stopped, as the door splintered into large pieces. The top portion smashed into the open mouth of the man, his skull crushing under the enormous pressure.

The flare from John and Bechler's guns faded, exposing only a charred remnant of a corpse as it slid from the table to the cold stone floor. It was over.

Although in John's mind it had seemed to stretch on for an eternity, the assault had only taken but a single tick of the clock.

*****

The glass wall of the shifting booth came into focus as John steadied himself with his outstretched hand. He closed his eyes to ease the nausea, the fatigue from all he'd experienced seeming to make it worse.

Upon freeing the empress and children from the servant dining room, John and the others had made it back through the tunnel to the bakery without further incident. John and Bechler shifted out only minutes after getting there, cutting it closer than they'd ever imagined. John had shifted back to the barn and Bechler had returned to his own universe.

When John's vertigo had cleared enough, he turned to walk from the quantum shifter but jerked to a halt. There was a prone figure piled on the floor outside the booth. Since Jen wasn't due back for hours, it must be Sue. Despite the assurances of the others, it had been clear at the time that something was wrong with Sue. Ignoring the nausea and dizziness, he rushed to her, almost falling, his head spinning from the sudden movement. As he went to his knees next to her, slivers of light bounced off golden fragments peppered into her back. Turning her over might cause more injury, so he crawled around to her front. Was she was still alive?

"Sue," he croaked out, his voice quivering. He pulled up the face shield of her helmet and slid up the goggles. "Sue, are you all right?"

John touched her dirt-smudged cheek and the warmth of her skin radiated into his fingertip. Her body heat and the pinkness of her skin under the grime was a good sign. But the amount of shrapnel in her back made his stomach queasy.

"Sue?" he said again, feeling her stir.

Her eyes opened, and he felt a weight lift from his chest. He removed her helmet and lowered her head to the ground. He stroked her hair and gazed into her eyes.

"John?" Sue whispered, blinking several times.

"Yeah, it's me. How are you?"

"Tired."

"So you thought you'd just take a little nap on the floor here?" he said with a forced smile, his eyes moistening.

"I couldn't go any farther," she said. "My back hurts."

He needed to get her to the house and examine her injuries. How could he get her there, though? He couldn't put any pressure on her back until he got a better look at it, which meant he'd have to lift her over his shoulder if she couldn't walk on her own.

"You think you can make it in the house if I help you?"

"Yeah, I can," she said, a little more alert. She didn't move for several seconds then grabbed John's arm and pulled herself, with visible effort, to a sitting position.

John stood. "Here, take my hand, and I'll pull you up."

When she placed her hand in his, he tugged, and she came to a vertical position, falling into him. He steadied her as she clutched at his clothing. After remaining like that for a moment, she put her arm around his neck and they started to walk.

As they went along, a pained look came over her face with each move she made. He said, "We should get you something to help with the pain."

"I have some codeine in the kitchen from when I hurt my back a couple of years ago."

They stopped in the kitchen. Sue swallowed a tablet before going to her bedroom, where John began helping to remove her body armor. She howled in pain when he started to pull off her jacket.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"It feels like you're ripping the skin off my back,"

"I think some of this shrapnel penetrated through the vest and is sticking into your back. What is all this stuff anyway? It looks like gold razor blades or something."

"Two hand grenades went off in a pile of empty shell casings."

John examined the shredded material. "Damn, it sure did a lot of damage, but I suppose it could've been worse."

"How?"

"It could've been the steel grenade fragments that hit you instead of this soft brass. We need to get this jacket off before I can do anything."

"All right. Just do it then." She held her arms back and gritted her teeth.

"Okay, on three."

"No! Just get the damn thing off! I don't want to know when you do it, just pull the damn thing . . . Ahhhh!" she yelled when John yanked the jacket off, pulling the shards embedded under her skin with it. With the jacket off, it exposed all the blood that soaked her shredded shirt. His stomach turned with thoughts of the wounds below.

"I'm sorry, Sue."

She moaned, unable to speak. Her body swayed then twisted as she thumped onto the bed, her face now turned so John could see it.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, it just hurts like hell," she said in a strained voice.

"That codeine should start to take effect in a few minutes. I need to get your shirt off, but I'd rather cut it off, so I don't open those wounds up any more than I just did. Do you have any scissors?"

"Yeah. Over in the nightstand drawer," she said, pointing behind her.

"I'll need to get some towels too."

"I'll get them."

"No, just stay there. I will," commanded John.

He threw his jacket to the floor and went to the bathroom. Opening the linen cabinet, he sorted through the stacks and found two old towels and a washcloth. Returning to the bedroom, he met Sue while she was coming out the door. She'd removed her shirt and was carrying it against her stomach with her right hand as she steadied herself on the doorframe with her left. Blood smeared her abdomen and bra.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I didn't want you to cut my shirt, so I took it off. It's full of blood," she said in a daze.

"Yeah, I know. Go back in the bedroom so I can clean you up," he said, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"No. I don't want to get blood all over my bed," she snapped back, shrugging away from his grasp.

He'd never seen her acting this way. She seemed confused, unsteady and willful. Had she lost that much blood or was it just the codeine taking effect? Either way, he had to reason with her. He needed to examine her back to determine how severe her injuries were.

"All right then. Let's go to the bathroom," he said in a calm voice.

"Okay," she said, tottering towards him.

She grabbed onto his shirt, and he took her arm as they walked. When they entered the bath, he led her to a low covered radiator where she sat and he examined her. His stomach turned at the dried blood coating her back. Several trickles of fresh blood flowed down; however, none of the sharp metal fragments were protruding out. If there were some under the crusted blood, there was no sign, but there was no way to be certain until he washed her.

"I'll need to get this cleaned up so I can see better," he said, going to the sink.

He wet the washcloth and began to dab at the visible wounds. She flinched and groaned several times when he hit the more tender spots but said nothing to him as he went about the task. He made several trips to the washbasin to rinse out the cloth, the bowl filling with red swirls when he rung it out.

"I'll need to undo your bra," he said, turning pink. "There's a bad cut under it."

"Go ahead. I won't complain," she said with a light chuckle.

He crinkled his brow. Why did she find this amusing? Regardless, he unfastened her bra with some resistance from the hooks. His face burned hotter as he fought with it, his mind wandering to other circumstances where he might enjoy its challenge. The straps sagged off her shoulders once loosened, and she held the cups over her breasts while he continued to dab at the cuts.

When the wounds were clean, there was no sign of remaining shrapnel. The smaller fragments had been too light to penetrate, and the bigger ones had remained embedded in the fabric of the armored jacket.

There were three major wounds, with many pinprick-sized ones. The worst of the three was on her left shoulder blade. It was a gash about an inch long but not very deep. Some of the brass had hooked itself under her flesh and had torn out a chunk when he removed the jacket. Although blood was still flowing from this and another wound on her right shoulder, they were only slow trickles. He applied pressure to both for several minutes, stopping the streams altogether.

"Do you have any Band-Aids?" he asked.

"In the medicine cabinet," she said, yawning.

He removed several strips from the box. "I'm just going to put these on the bigger cuts. You've got quite a few smaller ones, but they should be fine."

"All right, go ahead. Hurry though. I've gotta pee."

"Sure," he said, peeling the paper from the first strip. He applied several across the large wounds and two more to the other cuts, hooking her bra back when completed.

"All set," he said as he rose.

He put the box back in the cabinet then helped her from the radiator. When he left the bathroom, he shut the door and waited until he heard the toilet flush and the sink running.

When the water didn't stop, he called, "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah, I'm just washing up," she said, her voice muffled by the door.

"Okay, just don't get your back wet."

"I won't." After a moment, she said, "Can you get me a clean bra and panties from my room?"

"Me?" he asked, opening his eyes wide. The thought of rummaging through her underwear drawer just didn't seem right.

"Yeah, there's no one else out there, is there?"

"Well . . . all right. Where are they?"

"The second drawer down in my bedroom dresser."

"Okay."

He got the garments, and when he returned, he called, "Here they are. What do you want me to do with them?"

"Hand them in."

"Are you decent?"

"If you keep opening that door, you'll find out. Just hand them in. You know, reach around the door."

He cursed himself for being so stupid and extended his arm through the door. Sue took the bundle and emerged a minute later wearing the fresh underwear, her face clean and hair let down.

"How're you doing?" John asked, blushing from her state of undress.

"Better now, but I wish I could take a shower. I still feel nasty."

"Maybe tomorrow," he said, trying to keep his eyes locked on her face. "You don't want to open those cuts."

"I know. I just want to get some sleep anyway."

"Well, let's get you to bed then," he said, taking her arm.

He walked her to bed and helped her in. To prevent her cuts from opening, she crawled in on hands and knees and lay on her stomach. When she put her head on the pillow, she said, "It's a good thing I'm so tired. I never sleep on my stomach."

He couldn't help looking at her scantily attired body while he pulled the sheet over her. She was gorgeous. His mind filled with thoughts he knew would never be as he tucked the sheet around her with great care.

Her eyes already closed, he started to walk off when she called to him. "John?"

He went back to her. "Yeah?"

"Come here," she said, her eyes open and looking at him.

"I am."

"No. Real close."

He knelt on the bed and brought his face near. "Okay, I'm here."

"Closer."

He came closer, his head nearly on the pillow with hers. "What?"

She stretched and gave him a light kiss on his lips. "Thank you," she said. The corner of her mouth came up as she put her head back on the pillow. She closed her eyes again and her face relaxed, looking like she was already fast asleep.

John stayed bent over her for several seconds before standing. While his lips still tingled from the warmth of her touch, his brain was numb as the confusion of fatigue seemed to drift out from her mind into his.

*****

Jen swung the reins in her hands, turning the horses towards the rough brick building ahead. Dim yellow light streamed out the windows as shadows from inside played across them, making them pulse like a beacon towards which to navigate. The rhythmic bobble of the wagon on the cobblestones altered when the steel-rimmed wheels shifted angle over the rounded pavers. When adjacent to the structure, another tug of the reins slowed and then stopped the wagon in front of the door.

After making it back to the bakery, Jen, Agacia and the imperial family had loaded into the enclosed traveling wagon they had bought for the trip out of the city. They drugged Placidia to keep him unconscious and laid him on the wagon floor. He'd be a bonus to present to the emperor.

The darkness of night had grown deeper, and the surface of the road more jagged as they drifted farther from the city to meet up with Cassius. He'd stopped firing the mortars once they radioed they were out of the palace, and he waited in the farm field for Jen to arrive. Before leaving, he sparked the thermite charge to make sure the mortar tube and the rest of the shells were destroyed. The remainder of the journey, while not long or eventful, had been rough from the wagon bouncing along the uneven road.

Jen descended from the driver's seat, the sky brightening as the hour of sunrise neared. Cassius came down beside her, his Roman-style armor clattering with each move. The two walked back to the carriage door to help the emperor's family disembark.

Jen said, "We will leave Placidia sleeping back there until we find out where the emperor's men want him."

"Aye, miss." Cassius chuckled. "I hope the dog is bruised up good from bouncing around on the floor."

The empress peered out from inside. "Have we arrived?"

"Yes, my Lady," Jen said.

They'd been directed to this building by the empress, relaying instructions from her husband. It was a way station between the capital city and Antium, and troops from Legatus Aquilinus' legion were to meet them there. From here, they were to move on to Antium under the protection of the soldiers.

The empress reached behind her and grabbed the younger of the two children, handing the small girl down to Jen. She lowered her son down, with Cassius assisting, and then jumped from the wagon herself. The last to emerge was Agacia, her face aglow with a smile as though the trip were some great adventure.

Jen smiled at the girl in return, again feeling a kinship with her. In Jen's study of human culture, she discovered that most people in ancient times never traveled more than a few miles from their home. It may be the first time Agacia had ever left the city.

After being first activated a millennium ago, Jen had remained in the library until John rescued her. She too was on an adventure for the first time in her existence, experiencing more than she had ever imagined, including emotion and even love.

Three troops emerged from the building. The leader walked towards the wagon while the two others followed behind. He saluted the empress. "Majesty, I am Decurion Augustus Fabius, at your command."

"I am gratified to see you, Decurion," said the empress. "Please escort us into the building where it is warmer. The night air is not good for the children."

The decurion saluted again then strode to the door while the group followed along, the two other guards remaining behind to tend the horses. The decurion was the commander of a turmae, the smallest cavalry unit in a Roman legion and consisting of around thirty-two men.

Jen entered the station and looked around, a scowl forming. The large room was nearly empty. While she couldn't see the entirety of the space, the bulk of the building was this one large room, and it only contained a mere twenty-five soldiers at best. Most sat at tables that ran in several rows along the back wall in front of one of the three fireplaces. The other two fireplaces were positioned with one to the left and one to the right side walls. Each had a few men seated on the floor in front.

"Where are the rest of the troops?" Jen asked.

"The legion is still en route," replied the decurion. "It took longer to break camp at Selucia than expected, so my turmae was sent ahead to meet the empress. We were instructed to wait here for the lead elements of the legion to arrive before taking the imperial family to Antium."

Jen narrowed her eyes when she heard this, concern beginning to increase in potential in her neural network. They were very vulnerable here to the remnants of the palace guard, and Legatus Ocella, who was still loyal to Placidia. It wasn't safe to remain with such a small detachment to guard them.

"When will the rest of the legion meet up with us?" she asked.

"They should be here by midday."

Jen ran several simulations through the digital portion of her brain, with no satisfactory outcome. It confirmed what her neural network had already suspected: the number of troops was too low and the station was too defenseless from attack for them to remain. She shook her head and said to the empress, "My Lady, I believe we should continue our journey and try to meet up with the legion."

"Why do you say this?" the empress asked, the muscles in her jaw tensing.

"I do not believe the number of soldiers at this station is sufficient should the palace guard or any of Ocella's legion follow us here."

"Why do you think they will follow?"

"Placidia has shown himself to be quite cunning. Since his spies have warned him of our plan to rescue you from the palace, I find it likely that he was also informed of our using this station as a rendezvous point with Legatus Aquilinus' troops."

The empress shook her head. "If that were the case, would his men not already be here?"

"No. They had anticipated stopping us at the palace, so would have no need to send men here. However, once they discover that we escaped, they may dispatch troops to track us."

Cassius broke in, "But, miss, without Placidia to direct them, would they do this? Also, you told me the palace was ablaze when you escaped it. Will they not think you all dead in the fire?"

 "I believe Legatus Ocella will wish to avoid being arrested and tried like Placidia. Without being sure of what happened to us, Ocella will send troops here."

"Then we should leave as soon as possible," the empress said.

Jen turned to the decurion, "Please assemble your men and ready them to move out. We will go on ahead in the wagon. Meet up with us as fast as you can."

The decurion looked from Jen to the empress and back again, appearing unsure if he should be following the order or not. The empress settled his doubt. "Do as she says."

The decurion rushed to his men, barking out orders. The men scrambled to their feet and began packing their gear.

"Come, we must hurry to the wagon," Jen said, rushing to the entrance of the station.

When she got to the door, she opened it but froze. It was too late. There were already legionnaires armed with rifles spreading out on the other side of the road. She jerked her head left then right before turning and pushing the empress back into the building.

"What are you doing?" snapped the empress. "How dare you shove me?"

The level of concern over the situation increasing in her network, Jen ignored the woman's outrage. "We are too late. Ocella's men are already outside and surrounding the building."

The decurion, who was still barking at his men, was unaware. She shouted above him, "Decurion, we are too late. The men of Ocella's legion are outside and surrounding the building. Have your men barricade any back entrances and guard the windows."

As the men scrambled from the new commands he yelled, she took note for the first time that none carried guns with them. Some only had sword and shield while others had bow and arrows. Given the light weaponry, it wouldn't take long for the men outside to inundate them. The slowness of the conspirators' weapon shipments would work against them now as the only soldiers supplied the automatic arms were those of the palace guard and part of the legion defending the city.

Despite this weakness, she had three particle guns at her disposal: her primary, which was down to a half charge, her backup with a full charge and Cassius'. They'd given him one to protect himself while firing the mortars. He was minimally trained in its use though and hadn't been given a chance to do much target practice.

She looked at Cassius. "Do you still have your particle gun?"

His forehead crinkled at first, but then he said, "Oh, you mean this, miss?" He pulled the device from under a plate of his armor and held it out.

"Yes. Good, you have it." Jen turned and called out, "Decurion!"

The man looked at her while he spoke to two of his men. When he finished his instructions, he came to her. "Yes, miss?"

"The soldiers outside are armed with the new dart shooters. Do you know of these devices?"

"Yes, miss," replied the decurion. "The officers of my legion were given a demonstration but have not yet been supplied with them."

Jen produced one of her particle guns. "I have here a weapon stronger than the dart shooters, and I will give it to you to use." She handed him the gun and pulled out her backup one. "You hold it in this manner and point this end towards your target. You push this button to fire it."

Jen aimed at a chair across the room and fired. The wood burst into flames for a second then continued to glow orange and smolder like charcoal.

The decurion's eyes popped open as he stared at the chair, his eyes eventually shifting to the weapon in his hand. "What form of magic does this use?"

"I cannot explain now, but do you think you can use this device?"

"Yes, miss, I will do my best."

"Good," Jen said. Unable to find a similar situation to their current one in her database, she asked, "I need advice from you now. Given that we have only three of these weapons and the men outside are armed with the dart shooters, do you think we can defend this building and keep them from entering?"

The decurion tore his eyes from the gun and looked at her. She could see his face change when his military training took over. He said, "I am doubtful. How many are out there, miss?"

"I counted at least one turmae if not more."

"I have five archers who can shoot out the windows, but they will be no match for the dart shooters," said the decurion. "The darts can be fired very fast from what I have seen. When my men aim to shoot, they will be very vulnerable to them."

Jen was beginning to understand the human emotion of frustration and could see why humans cursed as a way to vent the anger. There seemed to be no good options for them, and her mind felt ready to explode trying to come up with alternatives. It was only a matter of time before the siege would start and they'd be helpless to stop the superior force. The question was how long and why they hadn't attacked yet. Could they be waiting for further reinforcements? Were they afraid an all-out assault could injure or kill the imperial family, thus eliminating them as hostages? There was no way to tell.

"Miss," Cassius said, interrupting her thoughts. "I have an idea."

She turned to the old man. "What is it?"

"Since we will be unable stop them from entering the building, why not let them in?" He pointed to the rows of tables along the back wall and continued, "If we push the tables on their sides into one corner of the room, we can get behind them as a shield from the darts. When the devils come in through the windows or doors, we can shoot them with the . . . uh . . . pargun?" He held up the particle gun.

Jen's mind stopped spinning and locked onto the idea. "Yes!" she exclaimed. "That is a brilliant idea!" She turned to the Decurion. "What do you think?"

He nodded. "Yes, that is good. It will give us a much smaller area to defend and a better chance to aim and shoot as they come in. We only need to hold them back until the rest of the legion arrives."

While Jen corralled the empress and children into one of the front corners of the building, the men carried tables and chairs over to form a barricade. While the dense hardwood tops of the tables were several inches thick, Jen had them double up the rows to provide sufficient thickness to stop the rounds. She had the outer row placed with legs out and the inner row with legs in. Since the tops of the outer row angled down towards the ground and the inner angled up towards the ceiling, it provided two deflection surfaces for the bullets to strike, which should also provide added protection. Outside of all this, she had the chairs turned on their sides too. This not only gave a third layer of protection but would also slow down their opponent's advance should they make it into the room.

Jen went to one of the front windows and looked out. The soldiers had unhitched the horses and brought them to the stable, but the wagon remained in front of the building. Although the sun was now up and the temperature was rising, her infrared vision afforded her sight of Placidia's prone body lying on the floor. Potentials in her mind eased. It had taken much effort to apprehend the consul, and she didn't want to lose him now.

Although Placidia would be asleep for hours and wouldn't be able to give orders to the men, she hoped to deliver him to the emperor along with his family. This would please Lucius as much as his family being freed, and the added present would ensure his full cooperation with her.

The window she looked out wasn't within the confines of the barricade they were building, but she remained, watching the wagon until the attack started. Once it did, it was doubtful anyone would take the time to search it.

As the tables were still being assembled, a shout from outside hailed them. "Soldiers of the Aquilinus legion, this is Legatus Ocella. I order you out of the building, now!"

The call answered Jen's earlier question of why they were waiting to attack. They'd waited for the legatus to come up and direct the fight himself. There was much at stake here, and he couldn't risk a blunder by some lower officer. It was doubtful he could persuade his legion to take up arms against the emperor, so he needed the imperial family to use as bargaining chips. Ideally, he'd like to get both the family and Placidia so they could restore the situation to its previous state. If all died, he had no real options.

The decurion came alongside Jen and called back, "Legatus, I regret we will be unable to follow your order. I and my men were given explicit orders by Legatus Aquilinus and the emperor himself to protect the life of the empress and children with our lives."

"Who is it that speaks?" Ocella asked.

"I am Decurion Augustus Fabius of the Aquilinus Equites Legionis."

"Decurion, you are mistaken," Ocella shouted, his voice trying to soothe despite its high volume. "I am not here to harm the empress in any way. I am here to rescue her from the band that kidnapped her from the palace. These criminals are agents of the barbaric tribes to the west, and they will take them there as hostages. The imperial family is in great danger from them."

"I am sorry, Legatus, I have my orders. You are welcome to wait for the arrival of Legatus Aquilinus and the emperor to discuss the matter with them. They are expected here soon, near the head of the legion."

The decurion looked at Jen. "Let us hope that will make him wish to leave."

"I think it will make him more desperate to hurry his attack."

Shots sprayed in through the window, almost hitting the decurion. He ducked down as shards of the mud brick flew inward. The two ran towards the barrier while their men moved the last of the tables into place.

The decurion called to them, "Hurry with that barricade, the attack has started!"

They'd slid the last table into place, but several were still scrambling to shuffle the chairs when an enemy soldier appeared at one of the windows across the room. Jen snapped her gun up and fired. She hit the assailant but was a split second too late, his shots striking one of the soldiers inside. His leg was wounded, so two others helped him behind the barricade while everyone inside ducked for cover.

Several more troops arrived at windows, but none tried to come in. They took cover along the edges of the brick openings and sent bursts of fire into the tables. Chips of wood flew up when the rounds struck home, but none penetrated through to the other side. With the constant confusion and decisions to make, Jen had left her helmet in the wagon. Nearly as vulnerable to the bullets as any human, fluctuating network potentials caused her discomfort. She stayed low like the others, not returning any fire. Her keen hearing and lightning-fast brain analyzed the pattern of fire and bullet strikes and was able to determine the location of the shooter and his target. She could tell when anyone was shooting towards her and when each soldier was reloading his weapon.

She waited until the stream of bullets from one stopped coming and another arced away from her position then stood and fired towards her far left. Although she missed the sliver of the soldier's face peering through a window, she had set her particle gun to a higher energy state. Even if she missed her target, the heat from vaporizing brick would still cause injury.

The man screamed in agony when his face was scorched from the wave of heated atoms spewing from the wall. Jen ducked when another surge of rounds arced back towards her. She timed out the pattern twice more and was able to shoot again, both times hitting her mark. Upon striking the second man, a shout arose outside, and the pummeling of the barrier stopped. Although everything they said wasn't audible, she caught enough to know they were changing tactics. She stayed at a crouch and worked her way over to Cassius and the decurion to make plans of her own.

"They have stopped firing for now," said the decurion.

"I believe they have discovered they will not be able to shoot at us through the barricade," Jen said. "They are planning something else now."

"I believe they will try to storm one or both doors."

"That is very likely."

The decurion put his hand to his chin. "If I were them, I would hold us down by continuing to shoot through the windows and send in troops through both the front and back doors."

"The front door will be easy to protect," Jen said. "I can open a gap between the tables and the front wall small enough that anyone at a window will not be able to angle a shot at me. As soon as someone enters the door, though, I will have a clear aim."

"Good, that leaves the back door then."

"I should be able to do the same there," Cassius said. He pointed to the barricade where two tables met. "The back door is about there. If I open a gap, I can shoot the devils when they come in."

"Let us do it then before they start coming," said the decurion.

They opened the gap by the front door first, Jen crawling between the rows after moving the first table over. She shoved the table in the outer row away from the wall then crawled to where they would fire at the back door. She opened the gap on the outer row while the two men opened the inner row. She was crawling back to her spot by the front door when the firing began again.

Bullets streamed in through the windows, striking the outer row of the barricade. After several rounds penetrated the wood of the outer table and bounced off her body armor, Jen fell flat to her stomach, keeping down and snaking along the ground. She was about to turn the corner to get behind the inner table row when the front door opened.

In a flash, she twisted her body to face the door, aiming her particle gun towards it. For a time, nothing happened but then a burst of fire from the windows began, and a man rushed through the door. When he turned to charge the barricade, Jen shot him in the chest. He froze with a look of utter shock and fell over dead, never knowing what happened.

A second soldier came through the door and piled into the first just as the corpse swayed forward, the impact accelerating the speed it fell. Jen tried to fire a second time, but the gun wouldn't. She pressed the trigger a third time. The gun had recycled, and the particles shot into the crown of the second man's head as he stumbled over the first. A third legionnaire was entering but stopped. He threw himself back when the heat from the previous blast struck him in the face. She tried to shoot him too, but again the gun didn't fire.

The particle guns had a normal recycle time between shots of around 100 milliseconds for the charge to build up. However, with the higher power setting, it might be taking longer to reach the needed potential. This was preventing the speed she desired, so she lowered it to regain a faster response time. She waited for the next victim to enter but no one else did. She wriggled her way around the end of the inner table row and got behind the inner barricade. Cassius burned off the arm of a soldier entering the back door, and a scream tore through the air.

To prevent shots from striking their own men when they came in the front door, the soldiers at the windows were not aiming towards Jen. Because of this, she was able to rise and fire into a group of legionnaires coming from the back door. Her first shot brought a man down, but again her second squeeze of the firing button did nothing. The gun was faulty and would need additional recycle time regardless of the setting.

Before she could press the button again, one of the men at the windows saw her and raked his fire in her direction. Jen dove down, the shots going over her head. Before her eyes got below the level of the barrier, she could see more men coming in through the front, sidestepping the dead on the floor. A scream echoed through the room when the first man through walked into the line of rifle fire going over her head. She raced to her firing gap and saw that a second soldier had collided with the wounded one.

The soldier spun around to retreat, but Jen fired, hitting his shoulder as he exited. The shooter at the window had stopped after hitting one of his own soldiers, so Jen turned up the power on her gun, popped over the barrier and fired at him. The shot struck the side of his face, and she turned towards the back door to see another going down from the shot of the decurion.

Now that she knew the recycle time, Jen waited to shoot again and watched as one of the soldiers still in the back hall brought his gun towards her. She stood frozen, calculating that, although it would be close, the particle gun would be ready before the man could fire. She stood waiting, no sign of worry displayed. She pressed her finger on the trigger button with haste as the barrel of her assailant's gun crept higher. His chest burned open when her shot hit. His last nerve impulses continued, and the gun raked from the ground up to her. An eternity seemed to pass while the bullets came screaming on, but her body didn't have enough time to dodge the lethal projectiles that whistled through the air.

The first thudded below her right breast. Before the impact had time to ripple through the bulletproof fabric, the second hit the edge of her left breast, where her heart would be if she were human. The waves of the first strike were spreading out when the third crashed into her collarbone just as her body began to sink to the ground.

The pressure of the hits spread out across the suit, which negated the lethal force. However, something in her mind changed with the impacts. Her body continued its descent as the horrid memories of several days before flooded in. John was lying on the floor of the armory, and she wasn't certain he was alive. The fear of that moment was brought forth from her catalog of experience when she compared it to her current patterns. Was it fear that gripped her? Had the closeness of her demise affected her neural potentials so much?

Her body hit the floor, and she lay there unmoving as she analyzed the event that had just unfolded. She questioned her actions, discovering a conflict within her mind about what had just transpired. Her computational segment reanalyzed the data she'd used to make her decision and found nothing lacking in her logic at the time. Her uninjured body was proof of her correctness in taking the action. Yet there was an apparent lapse in her reasoning. There was an unaccounted variable in the equation, and the bullets had struck her because of this.

The feeling intensified. If her ability to calculate any risk had been in error once, the probability was great that it could fail again. The next time could mean the end of her existence.  But, while part of her programming was to protect her existence, this was not what drove her terror. She failed to understand the source, other than some connection with her love for John, and this was the greatest puzzle of all. The conflict twisted within the infinite complexities of her tangled neural network while she puzzled it out. Without a previous experience to compare her present state with, the analytical subroutines of her parallel processors were powerless to extract its source either.

The decurion interrupted the wrenching of her thoughts when he called to her. As though from a great distance he asked, "Miss, are you injured?"

The haze of fear slowed Jen's responses, the terrifying specters still rebounding across the miles of connections in her net. She sensed that a vast stretch of time had been lost, but a check of her atomic chronometer showed only fractions of a second had passed.

"I am unharmed."

"The darts struck you though, miss."

"My clothes stopped them," she said with a millisecond pause between each syllable.

She spun on her knees and peered around the table wall, but nobody entered the front door. Soon Cassius' heavy fire on the back stopped, as did the hail of metal-jacketed lead from the windows. All was quiet.

Jen fought to keep her thoughts on the enemy's strategy as the fearful images kept rising from her neural connections. The decurion crawled over to talk, aiding to suppress her inner clash.

"They have stopped for now, but they will try again," he said.

"I agree," she replied, her words coming easier now.

"They will step it up this next time though."

"Probably. However, I do not believe they will be too aggressive for they wish to keep the imperial family alive."

"That is true," said the Decurion, nodding. He pondered for a moment with hand to chin. "There must be some way we can use that to our advantage."

"How so?"

"I am not sure," he replied.

The guns began blazing again, cutting their discussion short. This time shots sprang not only from the windows across from Jen but also from those along the wall to her right. Soldiers leaned through them and shot along the edge of the wall, keeping Jen pinned down so she wouldn't be able to stand and shoot at the back door.

"I believe they are going to rush the back door," she said.

"I will assist Cassius," said the decurion as he scurried away.

Jen stayed down and watched the front door, fear not allowing her to chance standing again. While her designers had anticipated the learning ability of her neural network, they'd never anticipated the extent to which she could grow. Through her extended study of human emotion and the integration of this with her humanlike mind, emulation was becoming reality.

No one attempted to enter the front door, and firing from the windows across from it ceased. However, firing from the right flank continued at a feverish pace. Bullets zipped overhead and rebounded off the bricks. Shot from a higher angle, they bounced down into the barricade, whirling fiends that gashed into the flesh of the men around her. Her head was close enough to the wall so the ricochets didn't hit and the armor she wore protected her body. She was safe for now. Despite this, she shrunk back from each hit. Fragments of the earthenware blocks showered off as the unrelenting assault continued. There was nothing to distract her from her anxiety but the booming of guns, the screams of men when struck and the demon memory within to fight down as best she could. She had to do something. Just lying there was becoming too unbearable. Within milliseconds, uncertainty turned to frustration and frustration to anger. A whole spectrum of emotion assaulted her, and with no experience to compare it to, she was nearly frozen with indecision.

A scream from behind caused Jen's focus to shift. She turned and saw a soldier holding his neck. Blood was spilling out from around his grasp. As precious life poured from his wound, his screams ebbed and panic grew in his eyes, a mirror of her own. His face transmuted from shock to confusion to fear and to anger that this was happening, then resignation, acceptance and finally calm as his eyes glazed over from weakness. Death came.

Jen stared at the lifeless shell until her glance caught sight of the empress in the farthest corner of the barricade where the two brick walls joined. She too had seen the man's clash with death, the whole time shielding her children from the terrible scene. Her eyes pulsed from wide open to squeezed shut with each close shot. With each shock of sound, her body convulsed but not to shrivel for her own protection. Rather, her impulse was to protect something more important to her than life itself, the lives of her son and daughter.

Time slowed, and the rattle of mayhem subsided while the vision before Jen continued. Agacia was next to the empress, also seeming not to be concerned with guarding her own life but rather that of the child beside her, the weeping little girl. No matter the terror either woman felt, both seemed driven by some instinct, some greater purpose more noble: the protection of the smaller lives next to them.

Jen's mind raced to find some similar pattern within her vast database, some similar experience of her own or stored from another's life. Nothing would come. Nothing compared to the sight of the two women or to the onslaught of emotion she had going on within herself. To be sure, there were things of similar horror but nothing as vivid as this. From light years away came the voices of Cassius and the decurion, but her mind was too caught in the scene she was witnessing to interpret what was said. They were mere background clatter to be ignored like the rest.

"They are getting through! I cannot get them all!" Cassius yelled.

"Nor can I!" the decurion bellowed. He screamed out orders over the roar of thundering weapons. "Archers, prepare to fire as they come over the barricade!"

Agacia's eyes thrashed about in panic when she heard the command, eventually landing on Jen. As she stared back at Jen's gaze, a change came over the girl's face, and calmness appeared.

Insight flashed. A pattern emerged, but not for what Jen was feeling. The way Agacia gazed at her was the same way she had done so the night before when the palace guards spewed bullet after bullet through the bedroom door. There'd been the same horror on the girl's face to begin with, but then the same confidence when she somehow sensed she'd be safe in Jen's presence.

The spark of intuition leaped, a different twist was envisioned, and Jen was ready to act. She rolled over and over, stopping when she got close to the two women huddled in the corner. She ended on her back with the particle gun ready. Her fingers flew across its surface, adjusting the power to its highest setting. She aimed towards the vastness of the ceiling corner across the room and fired.

The concussion pounded her skin and waves of heat struck as smoldering wood and glowing orange roof tiles descended upon the throng of men who were storming the back door. Jen ignored the agonizing screams and fired a second shot, this time aiming towards the far end of the wall of windows the enemy was shooting through. A second scorching blast hit her as the wall buckled from the intense energy, crushing men beneath a heap of earthen blocks. Jen's arms swung about, again pressing the trigger for a third blast. Another shockwave slapped her back. The far wall of windows came down and more of the roof collapsed, crushing the soldiers under its mass.

As Jen had calculated, the timbers overhead held fast, still supported by the ell of the walls behind her. The rubble of brick and wood blocked access to her group just beyond their barricade. Debris entombed them and would take hours for the enemy to dig out, precious time they didn't have with the fast approach of the emperor's legion.

As Jen lay still in the dust-filled darkness, her thoughts went back to the night before. Her memory became so lucid that she thought, even now, she heard the maniacal laughter of John Fuller as he blasted down the ceiling outside the palace bedroom.

## CHAPTER 13

The sun angled down in the western sky as late afternoon approached. The house shadowed the warmth of the sun, and a cool breeze struck John, causing a chill on his bare arm.

"It's getting kind of cold out," he said with a shiver. "Let's go in the house."

Sue cocked her head. "Nah, you go ahead. I want to sit here for a little longer." She leaned back in the cushioned, steel chair and then flinched forward.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. I keep forgetting about my back," she replied. "It's still tender."

He sat back in his chair, deciding to stay with her. They'd slept late into the morning, with John rising first. By the time he'd showered and was shaving, Sue was knocking at the door to prod him along. She was anxious to shower herself. Afterward, he reapplied bandages to her back, and they ate breakfast. Still worn-out from the night before, they lounged on the patio for the early part of the afternoon.

At first, talk had come easy. They prattled on about the events of the previous night. Now, as the silence stretched out, John continued to think of all he'd done at the palace and those he'd killed. He hadn't told Sue of his remorse for the slain men.

He looked at her. "Sue?"

 "Yeah?"

He stared into her eyes and, for a moment, he had no words. It was as if a grape had wedged itself in his throat.

"What's wrong?"

He looked down, "Well . . . how many people do you think you killed?"

His eyes darted back to her, but now she couldn't hold his gaze.

"Why does it matter?"

"I don't know. It's just . . ." He swallowed hard, but the lump wouldn't clear. "I can't tell you how many I killed. I stopped counting after the first few. I've never done anything like that before." He looked at his hands. "I've never even killed an animal before."

She sat in silence for a moment, examining her own hands, but then her head shot towards him. "You're not blaming me for this, are you? I never asked you to do any of this after that first time. I didn't ask you to kill anyone for me!"

"No, no, that isn't what I meant, Sue. Not at all. It's just . . . I feel terrible about what I did."

"I know," she said in almost a whisper.

John leaned forward, grasping his mug from the metal tabletop. He sipped the chai, not noticing it was already cold. He put the chilled cup on his lap and held it with both hands, his fingers shifting back and forth across the side.

"The whole thing is like a nightmare," he said. "Even at the time, it was. I did all these things, but it was like some kind of game and men weren't dying. We kept moving so fast that it was easy not to think about it. But now . . ."

Sue nodded, "I know. I didn't have time to think about anything either. The bullets were coming at me so hard that all I could do was worry about staying alive. I kept pressing the button to fire, but I have no idea who was hit by it. The one I do know about is when I threw a na . . ." Her voice broke off with a gulp, and her tears started flowing in full.

John didn't need to hear the rest. When they'd packed napalm grenades for the mission, it was inevitable she'd have to use them.

"He kept screaming and screaming," she cried. "He just wouldn't die."

As he listened to her words, his grip tightened on the cup. He fought back the tears that he wanted to release but that he dare not. _No, I won't. No, I won't. I won't cry._ He tensed his whole body, holding back what he wanted to do the most: run into her arms and release all the pain he was feeling along with her.

He couldn't do that again though, the memory of his tears when they first met jabbing at his mind. He'd started to prove himself to her and didn't want to lose any respect she'd gained for him. To give in would be weak, and that's what he'd been his whole life.

His eyes began drying as the tension increased. It felt as though his heart were being gripped like his hands now did to the cold mug between his fingers. He wouldn't allow himself to revert to the pathetic person he used to be and now despised. He'd spent far too many nights as a boy lying awake in bed crying over how worthless his mother made him feel, how weak he was when the bullies beat him up after school and, as an adult, how small a man Rita convinced him he was. No longer would he allow himself to slip back to that disgraceful, emasculated existence. Although the sorrow and remorse for the killing he'd done was great, his disgust at regressing to that feeble person was a far more powerful force.

His nostrils flared, and he bit the inside of his cheeks, suppressing the tears. He looked at Sue. She was wiping her eyes to dry them again as the emotional storm within subsided.

A silence fell between them. Only the chirp of birds and the rush of a light breeze interrupted until John, looking down at the cup he'd been holding, put it back on the table with a clack. A moment later, the sound of the back door opening drew their attention to the house.

 Jen came out, silent and expressionless.

John stared at her as she came to him. Something seemed wrong in her expression, her usual cheerful look replaced by a flatness of emotion. She was trancelike. When she got to him, her knees hit the concrete patio in a freefall drop, and her head thudded into his lap. Her hands grappled his thighs.

At first, John could only stare at her, not knowing what to say. Without thinking, he reached down with his right hand and caressed her pale-colored hair.

"What the hell is wrong with her?" Sue demanded.

 "I don't know. Jen, what's wrong?"

Jen twisted in his lap, his fingertips now feeling the warmth of her skin while they moved down towards the smoothness of her dust-smudged cheek. She stayed silent, her eyes closed but the muscles around them twitching.

He attempted again, "Jen?"

"Yes?" she responded this time.

"What's wrong?"

"I feel . . ." she said, breaking off, unable to complete the thought. Her jaw was working up and down under his fingertips like her mouth more than mind was attempting to find the right words. She started again. "I feel . . ." Once more she seemed at a loss but soon asserted, "I feel!"

*****

John adjusted the temperature of the water as it splattered into the oversized bathtub. The churning water foamed when he poured syrupy, pink bath oil into the stream. The fragrance of roses filled the room as he sealed the cap back on the bottle and returned it to the vanity. Jen stared at John from her perch on the covered radiator as he finished running her a bath.

"Any better?" he asked.

 "Yes."

He started to leave her in privacy but turned back when she cried, "John!"

"What?"

"Please do not leave me!"

She looked more vulnerable than ever before. Her usual expression of happiness, which was part of her programming to make interaction with humans inviting, was gone. In its place was trepidation painted across her face, and she acted as if his leaving would bring about doom.

He hesitated in staying. She would strip, and the site of her naked body would be an embarrassing attraction. Although on one level she was a robot, on another, he couldn't help but think of her as an alluring woman. The physical illusion was already complete, and the psychological one was becoming more so all the time.

He stammered, "Are . . . are you sure you don't mind?"

"I love you, John, and need you near me."

Once more the depth of emotion she expressed was striking. But what did it mean? Was she actually feeling what she declared or was some encoded subroutine telling her to simulate this response for some unknown reason?

With all that had happened in his life, it was hard to believe that anyone could ever love him as she claimed to. His past made him doubt it was authentic. Still, he couldn't desert her if there was even a small chance the feelings were genuine. He'd felt abandoned his entire life and couldn't do the same to someone he cared about like Jen.

"Well . . . okay. I'll stay." Keeping his eyes fixed on the floor, John sat on the radiator.

Jen started undressing without apparent self-consciousness, first removing the remnants of the body armor, then her regular clothing. She paid no attention when his eyes kept darting from her to the wall and back again as more of her simulated skin was exposed. It was impossible not to appreciate the perfection of her beauty and the exactness of every detail.

Once she turned away and couldn't know he watched, he stared. He became excited at the fluid curvature of her waist and hips and her round and perfectly proportioned derriere. The sway of her body hypnotized him while she first walked to then descended into the white peaks of the foam-filled tub.

He couldn't help but be aroused by her. She was more perfect than any human female ever born. Even models and movie stars paled in comparison to Jen's gorgeous face and body. Not only would _they_ be envious of Jen, but other men would be just as jealous of John.

To some men, Jen would be the ideal woman: flawless looks, intelligent, submissive and an overpowering desire to please him. And John could have her. She'd made it painfully clear to him that day in the air-car by her actions and had even stated it outright. All it would take was one word from him. But was it real? That was the question. As time went on, it was becoming harder for John to believe it wasn't.

As she settled into the frothy water, his tension eased when the foam obscured her body. They sat in silence for a few moments before he asked, "How's the water? Is it warm enough for you?"

"Yes, it is fine," she said, examining the foam. She grabbed a glob of it in the palm of her hand and swirled around it with the index finger of her other hand. The dread she'd expressed only moments before dissolved with the gentle stimulation of her sensory inputs.

John stood for a moment and reached over to push the faucet knob off. The rushing water stopped and brought silence, broken only by a light spatter when Jen moved around. He sat on the radiator again and continued to watch as the gentle trickling of the foam enthralled her. She ceased examining the bubbles and slid her body down the back of the tub, immersing her head under the water.

When she stayed under, John's heart raced for a moment and then slowed. Jen didn't breathe so she couldn't drown. Several minutes had passed before her head popped to the surface with a splash, and she slicked her hair back with both hands. Her dripping hair and face gave her a most seductive air. His ardor arose again when the subsiding foam exposed her breasts.

"It is so peaceful when I am under the surface," Jen said, gazing at him.

 "What do you mean?"

"I feel protected and enveloped in warmth when I am under water," she said with awe. "The sounds I hear have an added depth; the quiet a gentle pulsing?"

John furrowed his brows. There was a change in her, the description more lyrical than he'd ever heard her express before. Each day brought a new surprise as her emotions became more prevalent. Something traumatic had happened and he needed to find out what it was.

"What happened, Jen? You're acting different from any way I've ever seen you before. What upset you so bad after I left the other universe?"

"John, I was so scared. I realized that my life could end."

"Yeah." He paused. "I suppose we face that possibility every day."

"You do not understand. I determined that I would be able to shoot a man before he could shoot me, and my calculations were in error. I did not take into account that he may be able to fire even though I hit him first. I almost died because of that error."

"You made a mistake, Jen, that's all."

"If I made an error like that once, I am capable of making another. The next error could mean my end."

Before John could respond, Jen slid down the tub and immersed herself again. John rubbed the back of his neck. As disturbed as she was, her feelings had to be genuine. A mere program wouldn't go to this extent for some masquerade. There just wasn't any logical purpose in doing so. The problem was if the emotions were authentic, would they somehow overwhelm her and cause damage to her neural network? The blood drained from his face. Was there an equivalent of a nervous breakdown in a robot?

Although he'd become very close to Sue, knowing she'd never be more than his friend had caused him to keep some distance. Because Jen had made her feelings for him well known, he was more open and comfortable around her, increasing the bond between them. She accepted and loved him more than anyone ever had, and it felt good. If something happened to Jen and she became inactive, he'd lose that. He bit his lip. He had to help her. He had to prevent it.

"Jen, what are you doing?" he asked. "You can't hide underwater forever you know. Come back up so we can talk."

She edged back up and looked at him.

"I know it isn't easy to make a mistake, Jen." He felt a sharp jab in his chest. "Believe me, I know." He said, to himself as much as to her, "All we can do is our best. We don't always have all the information or take everything into account. But, sometimes, you just have to go on instinct and do what you think is best. When it's over and you realize that what you did may not have given you the best outcome, you need to give yourself some credit. You made the best decision possible given the circumstances at the time."

"But how can I avoid putting myself in a position where I will be forced to make such a decision again?"

"You can't," he chuckled, "unless you want to stay under that water forever." The humor left his face when he continued, "You can be put in a life-changing situation at any time. If you cross a street, you could be hit by a car; if you don't, you could be struck by lightning. Hell, you could sit here in this bathtub forever and feel safe but still be killed by a meteor."

"The chance of that is minimal though."

"Of course it is, but that doesn't eliminate the possibility that your decision to stay here in safety will cause the end of your existence. Playing it safe isn't always the best thing to do." Again he felt a jab in his chest.

The muscles of her face relaxed. "I believe I see your point."

"I know humans have the instinct for self-preservation, and I'm sure you have similar programming. It shouldn't be such an overwhelming drive though that we become crippled by it and sit frozen in neurosis."

Wet strands of hair swirled around when Jen shook her head. "It is not my base programming to preserve myself that caused the discomfort. Although that is part of it, the majority is originating from shifting potentials in my neural network."

"I see. What's causing these shifting potentials?"

"The problem is that if I cease functioning, I will no longer be with you."

His brows furrowed. "And this causes fear in you?"

"Yes, very much so. I know this does not make sense but many of the things I think in the last few days are not rational."

A realization struck him. As sophisticated a brain as she had, her developing emotions were alien from her original programming. Her unlimited access to human expression of emotion while in the library computer couldn't prepare her for reality. Emotionally, she was still an infant.

While he could sympathize with her desire to shrink from her anxiety, he also knew that hiding wasn't the answer. His decision of days before to stop letting others control his destiny had empowered him like he'd never felt in his life. He had to convince her not to shrivel from life because of a single mistake.

*****

As John and Jen sat in their own worlds of contemplation, Sue entered. She crossed her arms and leaned her shoulder against the doorframe, looking at John while he stared at Jen. She narrowed her eyes as she watched for a moment, her face flushing. He'd never looked at her in the same way he looked at Jen.

The way he was fawning over the machine, turned Sue's stomach; especially when Jen had come back earlier. Here he'd stroked the robot's hair and face to comfort it, but when Sue had been crying only moments before, he hadn't even approached her. He remained distant in her time of need. It was evident that the robot was becoming more important to John than she was.

"Well now, enjoying the view?"

 John snapped his head towards her, his face burning red when he looked from Sue to Jen and then back to Sue again. He acted like a teenage boy caught with his father's girly magazine.

"No, no, we were just talking."

"Really," she said. "I'm not sure what _you_ were saying, but it's pretty obvious what she is." Her thumb shot towards Jen.

He reddened further. "We were just talking about a bad decision she made in the other universe."

"Uh-huh," Sue said, her lips puckering. "Well, if you think you can tear your eyes off this fascinating discussion for a moment, I'd like to know if she got the empress and kids to the emperor and if he told her who our man is."

 "Yes, I delivered the emperor's family and Placidia. And I know the name that we were seeking: Larry McAndrews."

 "McAndrews?" Sue's head jerked back. "He's the one who's investigating the high power usage on the project." The machine must be mistaken. Since her father had only introduced McAndrews to her briefly one time, she couldn't remember if he had the blond hair or build of the man she and John saw in the lab that night. But if he was in charge of investigating the conspirators' activities like Bechler said, how could he be its head? "Are you sure about that? He wasn't even around when all this started."

"Whether I am sure or not is irrelevant," Jen snapped back, her eyes narrowing. "This is what I was told by the emperor."

"I just asked," Sue retorted.

The damn machine was getting harder to stomach every day. Now it was getting snotty with her. Its programming was flawed and needed debugging. Better yet, the whole mechanism should be dumped back where they found it and left to rot.

"I know you _just asked_ ," Jen said, emphasizing Sue's words. "It is the way that you asked. In fact, it is always the way you ask that I find offensive. You treat me with as little regard as you would one of your kitchen appliances. I know you may find this difficult to believe, but I am not just a thing. I am a sentient being with feelings."

Sue took half a step forward, her fists balling. "Feelings? Hah! You don't know a damn thing about feelings. What the hell do you think you are—human or something?" She was tired of dealing with the damn machine. She'd been through too much to be nice to it anymore. She shouted, "You're right! I don't think of you as anything more than a fancy can opener! In fact, for you to even think you have feelings means your system must be crashing! Where's your reset button? I think I need to press it!"

The strain in Jen's body snapped with such force when she spun around that streams of water shot from the tub. She sucked up water with a loud whoosh as she sprang to her knees then stood. Her hard body stood dripping, small globs of suds still clinging to her.

"Reset button!" yelled Jen.

John stood, and his voice boomed out, "All right, that's enough!"

The two women clamped their mouths shut, their wide eyes shooting to John. When the echo of his voice faded, the room was silent but for the spatters of water falling from Jen.

 "I know we're all on edge after yesterday." He paused for a second as his face flinched. "But we shouldn't take it out on each other. Don't forget, there's a real enemy out there that we all want to see stopped, and instead of fighting amongst ourselves, we need to be fighting them."

John continued to look at Sue after he finished talking, and by his glare, he was directing his anger at her. There was silence for a moment, but then Jen said, "This has nothing to do with yesterday, John. She has treated me poorly since I came here, and I feel as though I should not have to accept it any longer."

Sue opened her mouth but then said nothing. Instead, she stormed from the room. There was no use in arguing with either of them. The robot's processing unit had corroded after sitting all that time and was now under the impression it was human. As for John, the machine had enticed him into its trap. No matter what she said, he'd side with it. The damn thing fascinated him, and he treated it like it was a real woman.

Sue was aware of her physical flaws and that the machine was manufactured to be every man's perfect dream. She hadn't dated many men, but surface appearance easily lured those she had. She berated herself for ever thinking John was different. Even so, his falling for some illusion like that sickened her.

She stomped down the hall and descended the stairs, her breath quickening. It wasn't from the exertion but the rage she'd worked herself into. When she got to the foot of the stairs, she sat on the second step and took deep breaths to calm herself. As her anger eased a bit, she began to think about Jen's discovery. The enemy was no longer nameless and faceless. The robot had at least done that much for her.

As she reflected further, maybe her initial reaction that McAndrews wasn't the conspiracy's leader was wrong. If the emperor had seen Placidia meet with him, he was involved. If involved, what better position to become the leader than to be the one charged with heading the investigation? In fact, the original scheme may have been Phil's, but once McAndrews discovered it as part of his investigation, he decided it was his turn to feed at the trough. They were transporting millions of dollars worth of gold, with the promise of even greater riches and power once the library computer was cracked. That was more than enough to turn even the most honest of men.

It was time. She had enough information now. She'd go to Uncle Bob and expose the whole mess to him. He'd be upset by her revelation; both her part in exposing it and also McAndrews. But she had to do it.

With Uncle Bob heading the project for the DAP, he was probably the one who'd assigned McAndrews to investigate the high power usage. He'd be furious that his trust had been misplaced in his agent, especially when he learned about the millions of dollars in gold he was transporting back. He'd also be mad at her for taking such risks to investigate the conspiracy, but he'd get over it. He'd never been able to stay mad at her for long.

She stood and looked up the stairs for a moment, her eyes moistening. She had the required information and didn't need John anymore. He could stay up there and play with his toy! She was going to finish by herself what they'd started together.

Biting her quivering lip, she raced to the kitchen. She grabbed her cell phone and purse before rushing out the door. Uncle Bob would still be at his office this time of day, so she'd call on her way to make sure he stayed until she arrived.

*****

John looked across the kitchen island at Jen. "Well, I guess I'll start eating. I've waited for Sue as long as I can. I'm starved."

"Yes, you should eat," Jen replied, tightening the sash on the robe she wore. "Sue may be gone for several more hours, and you cannot wait that long."

John placed a hamburger on an open bun, dowsing it with ketchup before putting the top on. He took a bite from it and chewed, but the distraction in his mind was too great to enjoy the food. Sue's anger when she stormed from the bathroom earlier kept coming back to him. He'd wanted to follow, but Jen had grabbed his arm before he could. She was so distraught, and he couldn't abandon her at that moment. He stayed and helped her dry off from the bath. He heard the slam of the back door when Sue left, leaving the wound of their argument still festering.

As he continued chewing, John considered why Sue disliked Jen so intensely. She'd never given him a coherent reason. Another unconscious bite of the burger and another thought came to him.

 "Say, Jen, you never said anything to Sue about how you love me and all, did you?"

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head. "Oh no, you asked that I tell no one, and I have not."

It was evident by her look that Jen hadn't. She didn't want to displease him.

"All right, just making sure," he said and took another bite. It was a crazy thought, after all, Sue being jealous of Jen over him. There was the comment about him looking at Jen in the tub, and there had been other similar references in the past. There was also Sue's kiss the night before, but it couldn't add up to anything. It was only a wild dream to think a woman like Sue could have any thoughts beyond friendship for a man as unattractive and boring as himself.

If that wasn't it, then what was it? Sue acted like she was jealous, so maybe it was an envy of something else. Yes, Jen was a textbook beauty, and imperfection plagued Sue like every human. Was that reason enough to despise her? It seemed unlikely.

Was it possible that Jen's vast storehouse of knowledge made Sue feel inferior intellectually? That was as ridiculous as the other reasons. Sue was the most intelligent woman he'd ever met, and there was no way she could feel that way. Jen did have extensive knowledge at her disposal, but she didn't have the creativity a human had. If there was one thing Sue had, it was creativity. Her theory behind the quantum shifter proved that.

John froze in mid-bite of his burger. That was it. The quantum shifter. When they'd first encountered the library computer, it had refused to give them any secured data. The prospect of getting further information about using her machine to extract energy from parallel universes had excited Sue. That was, after all, the reason she and her father had constructed it. Maybe she thought that because it didn't work as intended, she'd failed. She knew it was possible now because the people of Jen's universe used the same theory for their source of power. It was only a matter of tuning her machine to turn failure into success, and Jen was holding the secret from her. Sue was jealous of this knowledge and hated Jen for it.

That was it! The mystery of Sue's rationale was solved. Feeling like a weight had been lifted, he smiled a toothy grin. He wasn't one to pat himself on the back, but maybe he should've gone into psychology instead of computer programming! He nodded and took another bite of the hamburger, this time its meaty flavor rousing his taste buds.

*****

When Sue walked into Uncle Bob's office, he came around his desk. "Hello, my dear. It's good to see you. How are you?" He started to give Sue a hug but, she flinched.

"What's wrong?" he asked, releasing her.

"Nothing. I just hurt my back yesterday. It's okay."

He put his hands on her shoulders and gave her a quick peck on the forehead. He motioned towards a chair and walked back to his desk.

"So, how did you hurt your back?"

"I just overdid it cleaning yesterday."

By his raised brow, her white lie hadn't worked. He'd always been able to tell when she was lying.

"Hmmm, really. You should be more careful." He cleared his throat. "I'm sure you didn't come here to tell me about your back though. What's up?"

"I . . . I need you to promise me . . ."

"Promise you? Promise you what?"

It already wasn't going well. He looked agitated. He'd be even more upset when he found out about the chances she'd taken.

"I need you to promise that you'll try to stay calm about this."

"Calm about what? Is it something to do with the project?" he asked, leaning forward in his chair.

"Yes, in a way," she replied.

He stared at her for a moment then grumbled, "Sue, you obviously have some bad news. Why don't you just tell me what's going on so I can help you? Haven't I always?"

Her eyes moistened. "Yes, you have."

It was true. Although she'd always been close to her father, there'd been a few times in her life when she'd been afraid to approach him. At those times, she'd gone to Uncle Bob for help.

When she first got her driver's license and wrecked her dad's new car, it was Uncle Bob's house she drove to in hysterics. After bringing her home, he broke the news to her father. Although her dad was still angry, Uncle Bob had put things into perspective. The car was replaceable, but Sue wasn't.

Bob leaned back in his chair. "Okay then. What's going on?"

Sue told him, leaving out the more dangerous details. Several times he appeared upset, his expression becoming strained, but he didn't interrupt her, letting her speak until she'd finished her story by naming McAndrews as the head of the conspiracy.

 "Tell me, why didn't you just come to me to begin with, Sue?"

"I wanted to in the beginning, but John and Vince kept telling me it might put you in danger because people from the DAP were involved."

 "I would've brought in outside investigators from other agencies to look into it."

 "I'm sorry, Uncle Bob. You're right. I should have, but when they told me you could be killed like dad, I just couldn't take the chance." Her voice quivered. "You're all I have now."

The look on his face changed, softening at her words. She wasn't positive, but the glisten of his eyes made it appear as though tears were forming. He blinked, and the look was gone.

"I appreciate that Sue, but you know I've been in this business too many years to let anything like that happen," he said. "Now it's time for you to promise me something."

"What's that?"

"This is the end of your playing detective. You just worry about physics and getting our machine working like we want and leave the cloak and dagger stuff to me, okay?" A tense smile formed on his face.

"Okay, I promise."

"I may be getting old, but I'm not senile just yet. I haven't trusted Phil Baxter for some time. That's why I brought in McAndrews to look into things. The real disappointment is Larry. He's one of the best operatives in the agency. How he could screw up this bad . . ." After a moment, his head snapped back up, and the forced smile returned. "But, you don't need to worry about any of this. I'll take care of both Baxter and McAndrews."

"Thank you, Uncle Bob," Sue said.

He stood and walked around the desk, "Didn't I always tell my favorite girl she could always come to me with anything?"

"You did," Sue said. As far back as she could remember, he'd always told her she was his favorite girl; it had been some years since he'd said it to her though. "I love you so much."

"I love you too, dear," he responded.

When she released her grip, he put his hands on her shoulders and rocked back. He gazed into her eyes. "You'll never know how much I love you and what you've always meant to me."

She smiled. "No, I think I do."

He smiled back with no hint of strain this time. "You should get going. I have a lot to do to get this thing wrapped up. Okay?"

"Okay," she said, wiping her eyes and sniffing.

While she exited, he sat down at his desk. When Sue turned to close the door behind her, she caught a glimpse of the fury on Uncle Bob's face when he picked up the phone and stabbed the buttons. She walked away knowing there would be hell to pay for Larry McAndrews.

*****

John was immersed in the living room chair with his eyes half closed. As the television flashed its light throughout the room, he only peripherally observed it. It was less than an hour since he'd finished his dinner, and the warmth of the meal as it settled in his stomach seemed to weigh on his eyes.

His eyelids dropped to narrow slits then closed when he drifted into a semiconscious state. As his sleep deepened, there was a distinct feeling of plunging backward over a cliff. His eyes snapped open, and his fingers clawed into the arms of the chair.

"Is there something wrong, John?" Jen asked, tearing her face away from the television screen.

"Huh? oh, no. I was falling asleep."

It didn't matter whether the shows Jen watched were a portrayal of the finest in literature or the basest trash, they enthralled her as an object of intense study, like a biologist examining a virus through a microscope. John shook his head at her concentrated stare at the television, her mind so focused she didn't notice his silence. He sat another minute before the weight in his lids began dragging them down again. He mumbled, "I think I'll go to bed."

"What?"

"I'm going up to bed," he said, rising from the seat.

"Alright, I will go with you." She grabbed the remote control and snapped off the television, following after as he ascended the stairs. John walked into his bedroom and was about to shut the door when Jen slipped through it.

He asked, "What are you doing?"

"You said I could stay with you," she said, her eyes flashing at him.

"Oh . . . yeah," he yawned. "Can you at least turn around while I get undressed?"

"If you wish," she said, visibly brightening.

Although on one level it was silly to be so self-conscious about undressing with Jen in the room since she was a robot, on another, he couldn't help but be modest. Rita was the only woman he'd ever taken his clothes off in front of, and he just couldn't shake the insecurity of exposing himself like that to Jen. She turned her back to him before he stripped down to his briefs. He pulled down the bedspread and sheet and climbed in, wrapping himself under the covers. He said, "Okay, you can turn around."

She stood there in the darkened room, moonlight streaming through the window. He gazed at her as the rays reflected off her glistening hair, the aura softening the outline of her magnificent features.

"Are you proud that I was able to get the empress to safety and the name of the head conspirator for you?"

"Huh? Oh, sure. I'm very proud of you."

"Good, I am glad."

Always craving his approval, it was as if her entire self-worth hinged on his praise. He accepted it though. Her emotions were developing and soon would move past such things. He'd try to give her as much support as she needed during these critical times, something he'd never gotten.

She broke the silence again. "What will we do now that we know his name?"

"We could go to Sue's uncle now, or we could do a little more digging."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I wanted to talk to Sue about this first, but I was thinking that just because McAndrews was the highest level person the emperor met, that doesn't mean he's our top man. After all, Sue said he wasn't even around when all this started."

"That is true. Even though the emperor seemed quite confident, he could be in error," she stated.

John yawned. He was still tired, but the climb up the stairs and interest in the discussion had made him more attentive. "Did the emperor say why he thought McAndrews was the head of the conspiracy?"

"He was introduced by Phil Baxter as his superior."

"Uh huh, you see? The emperor assumed that because he was Phil's boss, he must be the head. That may not be the case."

"No, I suppose not," Jen said. She sat on the bed next to him, her face in silhouette to John. "How would we make certain?"

"Well, I could kick myself for not thinking of this sooner," he said, turning on his side to face her. "What do you think the possibility would be of you breaking into the computers at the DAP, more specifically, McAndrews' computer?"

"I am not certain. I have a basic understanding of your systems and some of the data transmission protocols you use from interfacing with Sue's computer." She paused, putting a hand to her chin. "I would need to do additional study before I could say with confidence though. I could do some further reading on your Internet like I did when determining how to interface with the laptop."

"Well, do it. The main thing is not to be traced here if you're detected. Search for information on computer hacking."

"Computer hacking."

"Yep, that's what they call it."

"Very well, I will start as soon as possible."

"Good, that'll help." His brows furrowed. "Speaking of hacking, something is bothering me. It's been a couple of days since we've been to the library. I'm worried that the longer we let the conspirators try to hack into the library computer, the more of a chance they'll succeed. I know you said you couldn't give me an estimate of how quick they can break in, but should I be concerned at this point?"

Jen laughed. John widened his eyes, her growing emotional awareness continuing to amaze. She waved her hand. "Oh that. You do not need to worry at all. In fact, I can give you an exact estimate of when they will gain entry to the library computer."

He came up from the bed, propping his upper body on one elbow. "You can?"

"Never. I programmed the interface port's sub-processor to keep prompting their computer for a login and password, but it will never let them gain access. The computer has locked out that port until they cease their attack."

"I'll be damned," John said, chuckling. "Jen, did I ever tell you you're a genius?"

"I do not believe you have, but it is nice to hear."

"Wait a minute. I thought you said you couldn't tell me that information?"

"That was before I knew you, John. Now that I do, I know you are not attempting to steal our technology. In fact, you are trying to protect it. I have come to trust you more than any person I have ever known."

He was honored by the way she said that. The guarded secrets of an advanced society and the safety of the world lay in the balance, yet she trusted him to defend them. He pulled his free hand from under the covers and laid it on her thigh. "Thanks, Jen. It means a lot to know you trust me that much."

A smile came to her face. She reminded him again of how overriding her desire to be accepted and loved by him was. What she didn't know, and he couldn't say though, was that he did accept her and he did love her.

With her emotion being so immature, she wouldn't understand how he felt. She'd take his love to the fullest extreme of her interpretation. He loved her very much, but for now, its exact nature was unclear. Was it only that of the closest of friends or was there the spark of something more? He wasn't sure.

Yes, she was a robot, but it was hard to make a distinction between her mechanized life form and that of a human. It was now a certainty that she was a feeling, sentient being. But it was also a fact that she wasn't a human female, even if doubt increased bit by bit every day.

She'd demonstrated her passion the first time she'd kissed him. As strange as it was even now, he'd felt something from her that no other woman had ever displayed towards him. The intensity of love she felt and the simple, honest way she portrayed it made it as real and concrete as anything he could touch. Could his level of feelings towards her ever develop to that between man and woman? He couldn't say. There was still too much uncertainty in him.

John wasn't sure how long he'd been lost in thought when Jen said, "John, if you still wish to go back to your universe, I can get information from the library computer that will help you."

"Can you do that? I mean, do you think you have the information?"

"Even though we never used the technology for transporting people, I am certain our knowledge is far in advance of what you have available in your universe."

"Wow!"

The desire to see Rita again had long ago faded, but he did miss his job and the satisfaction he got from programming computers. The question was, did it outweigh the happiness he'd gained in this world? The new friends who accepted and respected him? Although there could never be anything more than friendship between himself and Sue, he would miss her. In the long run, would it be less painful to leave now or to wait for Sue to lose interest in him when she returned to her normal life?

What about Jen? Although the nature of her being prevented a relationship for now, would it always? Returning to his old life would halt the development of anything more between them. Or was anything beyond a mere friendship just more foolish thought on his part?

He needed more time to consider the alternatives. But he had time. There was no way he could leave with the conspirators still at large.

Jen turned her face towards the window after seeing his joyful reaction. When he stretched around to look, her distress was apparent in the diffuse yellow light. Had her adolescent love for him developed to such an extent that she was now willing to assist in his leaving her?

The grin vanished from his face. "Would you do that for me?"

"If that is what would please you the most," Jen replied in a soft voice.

That she'd make this sacrifice for him proved she was as human as anyone he'd known, maybe even more so than some. Self-sacrifice was the most telling of human qualities as far as he was concerned.

"You're an extraordinary person, Jen," he said as he hugged her. She wrapped her arms around him and held on with a long hug, as though fearing he may vanish if she let go.

When, eventually, Jen moved to the window and looked out, he crawled back under the covers, immersing himself in their cold comfort. He lay on his side and gazed at Jen as the glowing light behind her increased the magic of her beauty. That she was the most perfect vision of loveliness he'd ever seen was still true, but it was also becoming so for her on the inside as well. To be a part of her metamorphosis was even more magical.

Sleep soon came and so too did the same dream of several nights before. His body and soul were entangled in making love to the mysterious woman. It was so much more vivid than before that it was unclear when the dream ended and he found himself awake, enveloped by warm, silky skin.

"Make love to me, John," whispered Jen in his ear as she began to kiss his face and neck.

As the memory of the dream was still fresh in his mind, he now knew the identity of the woman in it. There was only one thing for him to do. He returned a light kiss to Jen's lips.

*****

Sue walked into the darkened kitchen, the under-cabinet nightlight providing just enough glow for her to navigate by. Her tense muscles unwound when she noted the quiet in the house.

It had ended up being a long night for her. After leaving the DAP offices, she was unsure of what to do next. The past string of days had all been focused on doing what she'd just done, getting the necessary information of her father's murderers to Uncle Bob. But now what? What next?

Needing time to think things over, she did something that in the past had often cleared her head—she went for a drive. Clear of rush-hour traffic, she sped onto the freeway heading out of town. She was soon on a straight country stretch that continued for hours before entering another city. The mind-numbing miles and drone of the tires while they sped over the concrete, allowed her mind to wander. She was ready to go back to work and continue her efforts on the project. But that wasn't what concerned her.

After her father's death, Sue had become quite content in her solitude. But, now, having John with her almost constantly had changed that. She couldn't lie to herself. She'd been attracted to him from the start. With their goal accomplished, now would he refocus on his desire to get home?

It was doubtful. It didn't seem as much of a concern to him any longer. More and more he was drawn to this robot they'd discovered and would want to stay with it. Whether he left or stayed with the machine, it wouldn't matter to her. He'd leave her either way.

Maybe she was laying too much blame on the robot and not enough on her own shortcomings. Even before the machine was around, no matter how many hints Sue gave him, there always seemed to be a lack of interest on his part. There was a barrier between them. He was always pleasant and seemed glad to be around her but only as a friend and no more. At first, she assumed there was some loyalty to his wife, regardless of how unhappy the relationship he described was. But now, with his undeniable attraction to a lifeless mechanical device, it had to be due to something lacking in her. It all seemed futile now, as she saw her chances with him slipping further away. Sue turned the car around and headed home in defeat.

As she drove in her new direction, the memory of their argument before leaving the house came to her. She clenched her jaw remembering how he yelled at her for being inconsiderate of the machine's feelings. What about her feelings? Did he expect her to be happy for the two of them? Happy at his being so shallow and immature as to prefer a fake simulation to a real woman?

She pounded her fist on the steering wheel. Why had she let herself be drawn to him? How could she have been such a fool? Why? Why? Why did she love him so much? She began to sob, the tears blurring the road ahead.

She slowed the car and cried, "I do love him! I can't help myself, I do!" She continued the outpouring for several minutes, but soon it subsided and she dried her eyes. "What am I going to do?" She took several deep breaths then sighed. "Give up. He's lost, and you just need to accept it."

No! She clenched her fist. She couldn't give up. She wouldn't. In fact, why should she? She'd never given up on anything in her life without a fight. If there was one thing Dad had taught her, it was persistence. He never gave up, and no matter what the odds, he always came out on top in the end. She would too. There was no way she'd give John up without a fight.

How could she convince him though? She'd tell him how she felt and that he should stay with her for a chance at happiness rather than to go back to a wife he hated. And the robot wasn't human. He needed to realize that.

As Sue walked through her front hallway, she knew these were conversations for the morning. For now, all she could think of was sleep. She climbed the stairs in a trancelike state, the nightlight at the top streaming down like that of heaven's joyful glow. When she reached the top and started towards her room, a door opened beside her, the one to John's room.

But the figure leaving wasn't John. It was the damnable machine. Sue's pink robe hung open about the robot's shoulders, exposing its pale, naked body beneath. When their eyes met, Sue felt what had happened with every fiber of her shattered, sinking heart. John had made his decision, and it wasn't her.

She wasn't able to breathe for a moment, her legs going weak. When the agony fully soaked into her soul, Sue regained some strength and ran to her room, slamming the door behind. She threw herself onto the bed and sobbed into her pillow like never before. There she stayed for the rest of the night, eventually falling into unconsciousness from exhaustion.

*****

"Would you care for more coffee?" Jen asked, popping up from the kitchen stool.

"Yes, please," John said, smiling at her.

When he awoke that morning, he'd reached out for Jen before he even opened his eyes. After he did, he'd glanced around the room for her, but she wasn't there. He'd pushed her away after that first kiss the night before, stopping her before it went too far. Even so, he hadn't meant for her to leave. Before searching the house for her, he took a shower first.

As the hot spray had massaged his body, he contemplated what happened between them the night before, the corner of his mouth turning up. She hadn't offered herself in the same way as in the air-car, days before. Then it had been somewhat of an offhand suggestion whereas the previous night had seemed more of a heartfelt desire for her. She loved him and wanted nothing more than for him to love her back. It had been such a tempting offer, and in other circumstances, he may have given in—but he hadn't. He couldn't. After that first kiss, all he'd been able to think of was Sue and how drawing that close to Jen would push him further away from her.

As he rinsed off the soapy lather, he considered it further. It was silly to think that way. After all, it wasn't as though he'd ever have a chance to be that intimate with Sue. As much as he wanted something like that to happen, it was impossible. But Jen was such a sure thing. He felt closer and more loved by her than he ever had lying in bed next to Rita. Although still somewhat conflicted, deep down he'd done the right thing.

After showering and dressing, he searched the house for Jen. It was important to make sure she was alright with his refusal of sex. Her experience at the Roman way station and the fear of him leaving to go back to his universe had been enough trauma for her. His rejection shouldn't add to it. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her or cause further distress in her neural pathways.

At first, he couldn't find her, but when he was turning to leave Dr. Manders' office, he caught a spark of sunlight glimmering from her hair between two tall stacks of papers on the desk. She was hard-wired to the Internet modem, the short length of the interface cable forcing her to sit on the floor. The cable was hanging from her head when he came around the large, oak desk, her eyes closed and body still. The focus of her concentration filtered out the majority of her inputs. When he spoke her name, her eyes snapped to attention. She yanked out the cable, moving her hair into place to camouflage the mechanics of her data port. She told him that she'd been connected to the Internet since leaving him the night before. She seemed her usual self, and it was then that she offered to make him breakfast. He accepted.

Jen snatched up his coffee cup and rushed to the pot, filling it with coffee then topping with cream. She'd learned the precise proportion of each that he liked. When she brought it back, and the first sip tasted of perfection, he nodded his approval.

"Would you like more eggs as well?" she asked, her hand poised to grab his plate.

"You don't have to hover over me like this. Sit down. I've had enough."

After she sat, he sipped at his coffee and her from a glass of water. She always drank water when he was eating. It was most likely to share a common experience with him, even though it _was_ different.

"Did you make any progress on the hacking yet?" he asked.

Putting her glass on the table, she replied, "I have progressed quite well."

 "So, do you think you have the information to start hacking or do you need more research?"

"Oh, I gathered enough data hours ago. I have already hacked into one of the routers that the DAP obtains their Internet services through."

 "You're kidding me! That's amazing!" An evil grin came to his face. "What a criminal you'd make. I'll have to get you to hack into some bank accounts for me."

"How would that help us to obtain more information on the conspirators?"

"It was a joke, Jen. I think you need to study humor a bit more."

She nodded. "Ah yes, humor. That is one of the most difficult of human emotions to comprehend. I find that I make humorous statements without even knowing I have done so. I also find it very difficult to interpret the meaning of them when someone else says them. The laughter tracks on your comedy television programs are most educational in pointing out when something funny is said though. I will get it sooner or later."

"Yes, you will," he said.

"John?" he heard from behind. It was Sue at the door between the front hall and kitchen.

"Well, good morning. And how are you on this bright sunny day?"

John's good cheer was lost on her. Sue didn't seem her usual happy self, and there were scarlet roadmaps in her eyes. Her hair was in a tangle, and she looked like she hadn't slept last night. She'd always been particular about her appearance, but that didn't seem to be the case this morning.

 "I need to talk to you, alone please," Sue said.

"Sure, sure. Jen, why don't you go back to your research?" he said.

"Let's go out on the patio," Sue said as she started to the back door.

"Sure, if you want," John said, raising a brow at her odd behavior. "Would you like me to bring you a cup of coffee?"

"No, just come out."

When they got to the patio, Sue sat in one of the wrought-iron chairs, her eyes staring out to the yard beyond.

"What's wrong, Sue?" he asked, sitting across the table from her. "Are you upset with me about yesterday still?"

"That's part of it." She looked at him. "I think it would be best if you just leave." Her eyes darted away from him, focusing out to nothing in the yard.

"Oh come on, Sue. I'm sorry about what happened. I shouldn't have hollered at you, but I just didn't want things to get out of hand between you and Jen."

"I know that, but it doesn't change anything. You have to leave."

"How can I go now? We still have more to do to get the guys that killed your dad. Don't we?"

"No, that's finished. I've already told my uncle everything."

"Oh, okay. I was going to talk to you about a few other things we could do, but I guess we don't have to now."

"No, we don't. It's all over so you and . . . and Jen can leave," she said, choking out her name. "You have to understand that I can't take having you two here under the circumstances."

"Under the circumstances? What circumstances?" He smiled as his reasoning of last night came to mind. "Ohhh, I understand now. I know you don't care for Jen, and I know why you don't."

"You do?" Her body straightened and her eyes shot out to the yard. "Well . . . well good. You know why you have to leave then."

He held out his hands. "Come on, Sue, you can't blame Jen for that. It's not her fault you know."

Sue lowered her head and looked at her hands tugging at each other. "No, I suppose you're right. It isn't her fault. You're the one who made the choice."

"My choice?" he said in a strained voice. "Are you trying to say that I influenced Jen? Come on now, that's even more ridiculous than blaming her."

Her head snapped to him. "Ridiculous! Is that what you think I am? Is that piece of shit so perfect or is it that I'm so damn . . . repulsive?" she said, barely gulping out the last word. She continued, the tears flooding out now, "I know I'm not the best damn thing you ever saw, but at least I'm real. That stupid thing is some kind of a sick fantasy of yours, and for you to do what you did makes you a mental case!"

"Wait," he said, his head jerking back. "Now I'm really confused. What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about my feelings for a change. What about my feelings? They're real and for you to not give a damn about them . . ."

All the little pieces that kept coming from her were a puzzle, but she was obviously upset about something. He rose from his chair and knelt beside her.

 "Sue, what are you talking about? Please, tell me what happened to upset you."

 "Last night when I got home. She was coming out of your room with nothing on except one of my robes. One of _my_ robes!"

 "What? You think I . . . with Jen? Sue, I didn't. I mean, I really didn't."

"John, you don't have to lie to me. I know you'd rather have her than me. But once you made that choice, you can't expect me to let you stay here anymore. I'm only human, and it hurts!"

Like a shot, it struck him. She said he'd made a choice of Jen over her. She also thought he'd slept with Jen even though he hadn't. Was Sue upset by this because she cared for him as more than just a friend? As hopeless as it always seemed, did she, in fact, love him?

He couldn't speak, his heart thudding as his dream of last night flashed through his mind. He remembered it now, Jen having awakened him during it. He knew who the woman in it was—Sue.

He'd been attracted to her from the start, but the impossibility of it all had always driven thoughts of anything more away. He'd never believed that a woman as perfect as Sue could ever love him.

His mind whirled as he told himself over again that it was only a dream. Was his nighttime fantasy somehow clouding his perception of what she was actually saying to him? He refused to accept it. He needed to be sure. But dare he ask her? Dare he risk her rejection? Or worse, her laughter? Yes, for once he had to be strong and take the risk. He had to know. He had to ask.

In a shaky voice, he asked, "Do you mean you love me?" Her onslaught of weeping was still too intense to respond. "There's no way. I can't believe it. You love me?"

"Yes, I love you! I'm sure you and that . . . that thing in there will get a big laugh out of it now!" she exclaimed, her finger stabbing towards the house.

"My God, you do?" His heart fluttered again. How could this be? Throughout his life, dreams had never come true. For several moments he was frozen, his mind reeling, but then he shook himself. He had to make her understand how he felt. "Sue, I'm begging you to listen to me. I never did anything with Jen. I don't think of her in that way. Whatever she wanted, it wasn't like that for me."

Having calmed somewhat, she was able to speak. "John, you don't have to tell me that. I know you don't have anywhere to go when you leave here. I feel sorry for you. I know you can't go back to your universe, but I've thought about it. I'm sure Vince can forge whatever documents you need to start up a new life here in this universe. I'll even talk to my uncle for you. I'm sure he'll be able to help you with whatever you need. You can go anywhere you want, but you have to leave here. I can't take this anymore!"

"Is that what you think? You think I'm lying to you because I have nowhere to go? As a matter of fact, Jen told me last night she'd get the information we need to get me back home. At first, I wanted to go back right away. Then, I told myself there was no way I could leave until we finished catching the guys who killed your dad. I even told Jen to start hacking into the DAP computers so we could get more information on McAndrews. But, you know, that was just an excuse. Hell, I thought that could take her weeks or even months, so I was safe. I was going to stay here.

"I don't want to leave. I have nothing to go back to. I had a shitty life with a shitty wife, and I was miserable. The only thing I had was my job, but that was just an escape for me. I got to program a computer that was its own safe little world where John Fuller was in control of everything. So even that was just a fantasy.

"Until I met you and learned what a strong person is, I was nothing. I was a scared little rabbit who ran from everything, but you changed that for me. You showed me what it was to fight for something you believe in and to never give up, even if it means dying. And you know what? I respected the hell out of you for it, and I wanted you to respect me just like that.

"I even lied to myself and you both saying I was doing everything for me so I could get back home. Bullshit! Why the hell would I ever want to go back there when I can be with you? The only reason to ever consider it was because I thought I didn't have a chance with you.

"Everything I've done here has been to earn your respect, and the right to earn your love. From the second I saw you, I knew how ridiculous something like that was, but I tried, and I tried. I kept telling myself it was impossible, so if you ever gave me any signs, I sure as hell wouldn't have believed them. But that didn't stop me from trying.

"And now that the impossible is happening, please don't tell me I've blown it like I have my whole life. Sue, I've tried so hard for you. You have to believe me when I say I love you, more than I ever thought it was possible to love anyone. Please, believe me."

Sue remained silent, gazing into his eyes, looking as though she was processing all he'd said.

"Do you believe me, Sue?"

She nodded her head and held her arms out to him. He pulled her into a tight embrace. "God I love you so much."

He pulled back from her and, fearing his clumsiness, gave her a light kiss at first. A glowing tingle began when his lips met hers. When she responded, he became bolder as his passion grew. The electric charge he felt spread out from his lips and enveloped his entire body in warmth. The void that had been there his whole life was finally filled.

## CHAPTER 14

Shrouded in the charged field of passion, neither of them heard the steps coming towards them.

"I'm sorry to break in on you two at such a tender moment, but we have some business that's a little more pressing," McAndrews said, as he came alongside John and Sue. Phil, Franz and Bobby flanked him, all of whom held guns.

"Shit," was all John could say, his heart feeling like it had dropped into his stomach.

Sue, wiping the tears from her eyes said, "You better get the hell out of here while you can, McAndrews, I told my uncle all about what you've been doing. It's only a matter of time before he catches up with you."

He laughed. "If only you knew how ridiculous your weak little threat sounds." McAndrews shifted his gaze and glared at John. "Can I assume this is the great John Fuller we've heard so much about from Julian Placidia?"

Sweat formed on John's forehead while his heart raced inside. All he could choke out was, "Yeah." Then something took hold inside. Though he may be about to die, he wanted to fight back however he could. "You mean the Placidia who's chained in one of the emperor's deepest dungeons?"

McAndrews smiled. "Don't go patting yourself on the back too soon, Mr. Fuller. After all, in a world of infinite universes, there are also an infinite number of Placidias to choose from. You may have delayed us, but you won't stop us."

McAndrews pulled a gun from under his navy blue jacket and held it towards them. He commanded, "Phil, go in the house and get the other one out here. We're going to the barn."

When they walked around the side of the house, Bechler emerged from the barn. It looked as though he might run when he caught sight of the intruders.

"Hold it right there, or I'll shoot!" McAndrews' voice stopped him. "Hands where I can see them. Bobby, go search him."

McAndrews held John and Sue at bay. When Bobby completed the search, he stepped back with Bechler's handheld computer.

Bechler looked at his two friends. "I guess I didn't pick such a good time to visit."

"Shut up and get in the barn—now!" blared McAndrews. Once inside, he asked Bechler, "Okay now, who are you?"

"Just one of Sue's neighbors," responded Bechler.

"Ah, bullshit. Not coming out of this barn you aren't," McAndrews grumbled. "You're Vince Bechler; the agent from the other universe.

Bechler raised a brow. "You seem pretty well informed. How is that?"

"You don't worry about that."

"I'm afraid you have the best of me. Who did you say you are?"

"You don't worry about that either."

Gritting her teeth, Sue spat out, "He's Agent Larry McAndrews of the DAP. Soon to be a former agent when my uncle gets a hold of him."

 "All right. Every one of you just shut it. Now I want to go back to your machine there and fire it up." McAndrews motioned towards the quantum shifter with his gun.

"What for?" Sue snapped. "You can't hope to escape into another universe with it. You'll only bounce right back here."

"Oh no, Miss Manders. Didn't you realize? You've invented the perfect device to dispose of your enemies with. Once I put all of you in the booth, I set it to shift to another universe with the power on full, so you stay put forever. You'll be dead on arrival, but that's fine with me. Very tidy, don't you think?"

"Killing us isn't going to help you," Sue said.

 "Let's just say I'm eliminating some very damaging witnesses. Now go over and get it set up."

"You're so damn smart and have all the answers, do it yourself," Sue fumed. "I certainly won't."

"Well, I know how stubborn you can be, so I wasn't depending on you. I'm depending on one of these gentlemen to assist."

"Fat chance," John said. "You've got the gun and can kill me, but there's no way I'm going to help you get rid of my body. Do it yourself."

"I don't dig my own grave," Bechler asserted.

"I'm being misunderstood again," McAndrews said as he went to one of the workbenches. He grabbed a small screwdriver from its holder. "You see, Mr. Fuller, savior god of the empire, I saw how close you are to our pretty scientist over there, so I'm depending on you to help her out. In fact, I'm going to take this screwdriver and see how many times I have to gouge her with it before you do help her out. I like to start with the eyes. That should get her screaming loud enough to get your attention."

"You gonna screw the lady there, Larry?" asked Phil, entering through the door.

"That's very funny, Phil," McAndrews said, rolling his eyes. "Where's the robot?"

"Not in the house. I checked everywhere. It's not there."

"We'll have to get rid of it later then," responded McAndrews. He turned back to John. "Well, John, I'm waiting."

John's stomach turned at the thought of him hurting Sue. "All right, you don't have to do anything to her," John said, going over to the machine.

"I was hoping you'd see it my way," McAndrews said, putting the screwdriver back on the bench. "I'm not an animal you know. I just do what's necessary to get the job done."

John turned the machine on. "Okay, it's on. Where do you want me to set it for?"

"Why not the empire? You have friends there. I'm sure the emperor will give you a funeral suitable for a god," McAndrews said. He walked over to the machine and watched John's manipulations.

John set the controls as instructed. "All right. It's ready to shift."

"Show me how to adjust the power levels now. And remember, John, I'm not stupid. I've operated the machine at Gladstone plenty of times."

John cursed to himself. He'd hoped McAndrews wouldn't remember and they'd only shift for a few hours. Instead, he showed McAndrews where the setting was and turned it up all the way. Huge dips and spikes appeared on the power graph. They'd never set it this high before so the machine may not even function like this.

There was a sudden crack at the door, and black flack-jacketed men came barreling in. They shouted for everyone to freeze, but it was too late as shots rang out.

McAndrews raised his gun to fire, but John threw his hands out, grabbing the other man's wrist. With all his strength, he thrust the agent's arm upward, the shot cracking off but going into the ceiling beams above.

McAndrews tried to wrench free of John's grip, and the two men struggled to gain possession of the gun. Although McAndrews had a height advantage over John, in a wrestling match it was of little advantage. John allowed the other man's arm to drop but still held on while he dug his shoulder into the bottom of McAndrews' rib cage. Almost lifting him from the ground, he drove the man back into the corner of the shifting booth entrance. The agent's arms flew apart when his shoulder blades wrapped around either side of the glass.

McAndrews groaned in pain from the polycarbonate driving into his spine, the gun flying from his hand. It bounced off the back wall of the booth and clattered as it came to rest out on the barn floor. McAndrews brought up a knee, aiming for John's groin but missing, glancing off his leg instead.

McAndrews threw several punches into John's face with his free arm. Not fully recovered from John jamming his back, there was little power behind the blows, and John ignored them. Instead, he yanked down on the agent's arm he held with both hands while he pivoted his body towards the sidewall of the booth. He extended his arms and brought his back to the inside wall of glass, thus catapulting the agent towards the opposite sidewall. When John didn't let go of the agent's arm immediately, it wrenched behind McAndrews with an audible crunch. When John did let go, McAndrews pummeled into the polycarbonate wall opposite him, bowing it outward with the impact.

John charged forward. With McAndrews' back as his only target, he laid several hard kidney-punches, but the agent recovered quickly and spun around to grab John's throat. John twisted away, and tripped over his own, tangled feet. He went crashing down towards the front corner of the booth.

John's head hit the panel of buttons, and the all too familiar nausea struck at him like a steel rod forced through the top of his skull. At first, he thought the queasiness was from the impact of his head, but when it continued, he knew he'd pushed the shifting button.

The nausea seemed different from the other times, though. Always having been a constant din before, this time it ebbed and flowed. The pressure would increase like his head was ready to pop from the screw of a turning vise. Then it would ease off like it was over. As the vise cranked farther than ever before, his consciousness began to fade. Given the quantum shifter's settings, he'd be dead upon reaching the other universe. As his last thoughts focused on Sue and their love in the final hour of his life, his consciousness slipped.

*****

John awoke with the blaze of light and chest-thumping boom from a nearby lightning strike. He was still alive! He was wet and covered in mud, the mire sucking him down when he attempted to rise. When he broke free and rose to his feet, the heavy rain washed him with its stinging impact.

A more distant flash illuminated the surroundings, showing he was alongside Sue's house. How had gotten here? How long had he been lying in the mud? He'd obviously shifted, but why was he was here instead of in the universe of the empire?

Neither Sue nor Bechler had been close to the control console when the fight began, but one of them must have changed the parameters during the scuffle. Why wasn't he in the barn and in the booth itself? Since the lights were off in the barn but on in the house, he headed that way. Sue would tell him what had happened.

He walked to the front of the house, and another flash of lightning illuminated two men fighting, a dozen yards down the mud-swamped drive. He ran to them, slipping around in the greasy mire. He drew closer, and another flash lit the tableau. McAndrews was sitting on another man, throttling him with steel gripped hands. Could the other person be Bechler or Sue's uncle? Whoever it was, it would be easier if they both took up the fight against their common enemy.

When close enough, John punched McAndrews' jaw, almost knocking him over. The agent released the other man to fight off John, but when another flare lit up the sky, the agent exclaimed, "What the hell?" He shot from the ground and backed off several paces for no apparent reason. While McAndrews continued his retreat, the man in the mud came to his knees, clutching at his throat with his own hands.

John called to him, "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," the man croaked, his voice almost buried in the din of the storm.

John kept glancing toward the withdrawing McAndrews, but he didn't renew his attack. When another burst of lightning struck, its powerful blue flash illuminated the face of the man kneeling beside him. John jerked his whole body back as he widened his eyes. The injured man was himself!

John was lightheaded as he gasped. It really was himself, or a parallel version John Fuller, kneeling on the ground! No, it couldn't be. It must be a trick of the light. However, several more flashes of lightning proved it was him. It was John Fuller!

The memory of that first night outside Sue's house flooded back to him. This is how it was. Only then, he was the man on the ground, but now he was the man who came to the rescue. He hadn't only traveled back to his own universe but had also returned at that earlier time.

John couldn't ponder it further. While he'd been staring at his other self, McAndrews renewed his attack. The agent threw his entire weight at John, and he fell into his other self on the ground. Or so he thought. There was an initial thud of impact, but as he continued to fall, it felt more like he was descending into a vat of jelly. Then there was nothing as he blacked out.

When conscious again, John was still falling, sliding into a black void with no bottom. The lightning had ceased, and the darkness was total, the silence around him complete but for the distant pounding of his heart. There seemed to be no consistency of rhythm though because it appeared to slow to one beat per minute for a period then race to several hundred. No . . . Wait . . . His pulse was steady. It was the flow of time that was changing!

The weightless feeling of rapid descent continued. Either he was plummeting several thousand feet after jumping from an airplane or was in a universe all of his own, devoid of light and gravity. He felt no panic though. There was no hint of fear at all, only calm and tranquility.

Had McAndrews succeeded in killing him? No, his heart was still beating, and the sensation of a body remained. Suddenly, Bechler's warning popped in his head. The machine hadn't stabilized before the shift. With the power levels fluctuating so much, it had somehow tapped into some further, unknown potential. It seemed that what Sue had worked on so long and hard had a power greater than any she'd imagined, the ability to transport not only to parallel universes but through time and space too. With further study and knowledge to control this power, it appeared one could go anywhere, in any time, in any universe.

The erratic shift with McAndrews had started it all, sending him back in time to the night he first walked up to Sue's house. He struck the earlier version of himself kneeling on the ground the moment he and McAndrews were about to shift. They'd dragged the earlier John through the portal with them, depositing him in the universe that Sue lived in. It was a time paradox; a loop in time that had no beginning and no end. It made no logical sense—it just was.

What started as the worst of nightmares though had become the most exciting adventure of his life and, with Sue, the happiest. If this were death, he'd at least have those moments with her to warm him for eternity. As time stretched on, he relived the memories of Sue and a vast number of others. Eventually, the black universe vanished though.

With a sudden onrush of awareness, John was plastered to the hot ground, never having hit it with an impact but just there. The landscape here was aglow in yellow light all around. When he rose to his feet, he looked at the vast emptiness of a sandy desert. He couldn't remain here for long. With the intensity of the sun blazing on him, his body temperature was rising and intense perspiration beginning to exude.

Dunes of sand undulated to a mountainous horizon hundreds of miles off. The best option was to climb the highest of the closer mounds and get a better vista to observe signs of civilization. At a minimum, he may see relief of some kind from the shimmering hell.

John trudged through the loose sand grains. It was a greater effort than imagined with the lack of solid traction and the light-headedness that began to grip him. It was a frustrating ten minutes or more before he reached the base of the largest dune within sight. The small effort it at first appeared to be now seemed like a day's long labor, his mouth parched like he'd eaten dust by the mouthfuls. The challenge of climbing the mound was even greater though. For every stride he went up, the ever-shifting hill would push him back down by over half as much. He ground his teeth every time he slid backward. He would've cursed, but he didn't want to expend the extra effort.

After many more minutes or maybe even hours, he couldn't tell because the wooziness he felt had transgressed to an almost somnambulistic state, John was cresting the dune's peak when a horrifying sight struck him. McAndrews was climbing the opposing side, a look of fury exploding on his face.

The maniacal agent came over the top, hands and feet pounding at the burning sand as he clawed his way up. John just stood there. Was the wavering specter before him real or imagined? McAndrews descended upon him, a fistful of sand let loose towards John's eyes in an attempt to blind him. Although his dreamlike state continued, John shot sideways with surprising speed as the glimmering particles shot past. He wasn't able to dodge McAndrews' wild punch when he came past though, and it connected with sufficient force to dislodge his footing.

Both men went over, tumbling end over end down the hill and skidding to a stop alongside one another at the base. When John recovered from the stun, McAndrews was already rising, shoving sand backward as his legs thrashed to stand. Unable to lift himself fast enough, John brought his knees to his chest and thrust his feet at the charging McAndrews. The contact wasn't solid and glanced off his side, spinning the agent to the ground.

John rolled towards him and, in a flash, was on top. His legs straddled McAndrews, and his hands clenched the agent's throat. One of McAndrews' arms was pinned underneath. The other was free, and it flailed at John's face, punching, scratching and gouging into eyes with panicked speed but little strength.

When the flailing subsided, and the agent was near death, he disappeared. As John knelt on the barren sand, the landscape around him changed. Like in a dream with no detectable splice or transition, the scene shifted. The desert was gone. In its place was a wooded forest: a familiar chirp of birds, a hum of insects, a light wisp of wind through leaves, and a faint gurgle of a brook as it trickled by on its journey to places unknown.

John looked up from his still clenched hands, too weak to protest, his stomach churning from the shift. The transformation around him was no shock or surprise; it just was. When able to stand on his still-shaky legs, he looked for the babbling water. Coming from his right, he lurched in that direction.

Although he'd been in the desert for a short time, he was already near dehydration and would soon perish if he didn't get water. Stumbling drunkenly as he lurched forward, his thirst overcame any desire to collapse right there on the spot. He crumpled in the stream when he found it, his overheated body cooling in its chilly freshness as he washed off the sand granules stowing away under his clothes.

When refreshed, John stood again, this time feeling stronger. He looked around his new world. It was so peaceful and beautiful, but how long it would be here for him? Would it last an eternity like the dark womb he'd been in or only a matter of minutes like the barren wasteland from which he'd just come? There was no way for him to know.

With his thirst quenched, he was hungry for the first time in what seemed a millennium. Would he be able to find food to eat here? Would he know what was good and what may be poisonous? It was better to take the risk and eat rather than the certainty of dying from hunger.

As he foraged around, the day progressed and the cool mustiness of the morning forest burned away. It dried to a pleasant warmth, sweetening the smell of the air around him. It was more fresh and clean than what he'd ever known before. He came across berries and small tart fruits that were like early season apples only more tender of flesh. While none of it was quite filling, it was enough to satisfy the sharpest edge. The main thing though was that none of it made him sick.

A warm breeze picked up speed in the late evening hours. The tree leaves swished around like the crackle of radio static, the din of it masking the sound of his movement. The wind blew toward him when he emerged from behind a clot of trees and stopped. He sucked in a huge breath at the sight of the fearful pack. What were they? They seemed like a blend of wolf and hyena, massive jowls with piercing canine teeth.

He shot back behind the trees, his heart racing as the dozen or so animals moved off perpendicular to his path. When out of sight, his pulse slowed. He'd been lucky. If the wind hadn't been driving towards him, the scent of his body and sound of his movement would've meant his undoing.

As he sighed and looked toward heaven in thanks, he saw the answer to his dilemma. The clump of trees had intertwined their branches and formed a basket of sorts maybe twenty feet above him. While a formidable distance when looking from the ground, it was climbable given the lay of the lower branches. He'd need to strip away some of the limbs above though to fill in the gaps where light filtered through. However, it would form a secure bed high enough to keep safe from the wolf-like creatures. When he reached his new bed, he pulled at branches overhead, snapping and twisting them around to tear apart the cordlike fibers of the soft green wood. It took half an hour of groaning, branch twirling and yanking to fill in the gaps of the basket, all the while balancing like a circus acrobat so as not to plummet to his death.

The reddish-orange glow of dusk filled his new bunk when he lay down, his muscles burning. The breeze had died, and a peaceful silence rained down on the woods until the orchestra of crickets started one by one, the sawing of their chirps filling the air. As the crimson sky first turned purple and then black, John drifted off to sleep, safe in his treetop cradle. As the night wore on, he drifted into a dream—the one where he and Sue were making love.

*****

Sue shot her head around at the crack of the entry door slamming into a shelf. At first, she only stared at the door with wide eyes, but when the thunderous shots began to echo off the barn walls, she took cover. Her knees were just buckling to lower into a crouch when her body accelerated, Bechler yanking her to the ground. While she descended below the workbench in what seemed like slow motion, she caught sight of John hurling McAndrews into the wall of the shifting booth.

The thick timbers of the bench formed not only a shield from the bullets zipping overhead but also walled her sight from what was happening in other parts of the room. Despite this blindness, she surmised that Bobby was the first down because of the silence from the corner where he'd been. In contrast, the direction where Phil and Franz stood boomed with gunfire for a time longer. However, the tactical team with their overwhelming firepower eventually brought down the two men. Although it seemed longer, the melee ended in well under a minute.

While they darted around securing the building, one of the men pulled her up, and Sue noticed DAP lettered on his clothes. "All clear!" a man at the door barked out, and others filed into the barn. One, in particular, caught her eye.

"Uncle Bob!" Sue shouted as she ran to him, dodging around benches, shelves and men.

He held his arms towards her. "Sue, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she replied, her voice muffling when she dug her chin into his chest. Her tense muscles relaxed in his strong arms as they enveloped her. As always, she was safe in his embrace. "I knew you'd take care of everything."

"Thank God we got here in time. I was so worried we wouldn't," Bob said, his voice quivering. He held her for a moment before continuing on, his words more firm. "One of the agents I still trust was tailing McAndrews. When he called me to say he followed the bastard here, I came as fast as I could. Where is he? I want to personally put a bullet in his head."

Sue pointed at the booth. "John grabbed him when the fight started." When she looked around and John was nowhere to be seen, a pain stabbed at her heart like a sharp knife.

"I'm sorry, Sue," Bechler said, walking up to them, "John and McAndrews shifted out during the fight. I think they bumped the controls while they were struggling."

 "Oh my God!" Sue cried.

She ran to the controls. The power was still bobbling near full. John would be dead when he reached the other universe! Her heart fluttered.

"John!" she cried, falling to her knees. She buried her face in her hands, sobbing. "How could this have happened now?"

*****

John stirred from the twitter of the birds and the prickle of a branch in his back. Opening his eyes to daylight, he'd slept well past sunrise but was refreshed because of it. Sleep still fogging his brain, he lay there looking down on the world of his temporary existence. The snap of a branch then the crackle of brush underfoot made him flinch. He lay there holding his breath, only his eyes shifting around to the direction of the approaching sounds. Its source drifted into view. It was a man—it was McAndrews. The agent looked around when he strolled past, a long wavy stick with a sharpened point in his hand.

John remained like a statue, only breathing a sigh when the tree trunks obscured the distance between them. With John's camouflage, it was doubtful the agent was searching for him. More likely, as with John, food was the major motivation for the agent's search. Despite this, John remained in his nest longer than needed in case the other should double back.

As he lay there, more sounds made him take further pause. This time they were more subtle. There was no snap of a branch or loud crinkle of leaves, just the faintest of intermittent rustles. Something came into the periphery of his vision.

A half dozen men walked below him. They were more cautious and quiet yet advancing faster than McAndrews. They were naked except for thick patches of body hair and were shorter and stockier than the agent. The weapons they carried were stone-tipped spears. With long smooth shafts and needle-sharp points, they'd fly truer and penetrate much farther than McAndrews' makeshift device.

It was lucky he'd been cautious. If the men were unfriendly, they would've certainly overwhelmed him with ease. In a way, it would be good if they were hostile. They'd soon overtake McAndrews, and they'd take care of the agent for him. In another sense though, this complicated things too. If they were unfriendly and he stayed in this universe, they'd make it difficult, if not impossible, for him to survive.

When safe, John descended from his perch and worked his way back to the stream. After drinking his fill, he went about the business of finding food. Things to eat seemed abundant enough but were strewn about in a nibble here and there. It never seemed enough. He craved meat.

John caught glimpses of several hoofed animals that looked like small deer. The size of a large dog, they were slender and graceful like a gazelle and could maneuver with lightning swiftness. Since there was no way to chase one down, maybe he could snare one. They grazed in groups of three or four, hovering over low bush-likes trees with scaly leaf clusters that were tender and had a light pine scent. He could draw one into a trap by using it as bait, but the problem was how to construct a snare.

Along the shore of the stream, a vine grew that spread out in great patches. The plants were sometimes several yards long and were supple but strong. With even a single strand of the vine almost impossible to tear apart, it was the ideal raw material to make a rope and thus a snare.

The next several days seemed to go much faster for John as he worked hard to make his rope. There were no further signs of McAndrews or the other humans. The native men must have killed the agent and left the area, solving John's problem. He settled into a peaceful life of labor, his mornings spent collecting food and the afternoons in the manufacture of rope.

During the long hours of braiding the vines, John had time to think about Sue. He missed her greatly and realized that even if the accidental shift hadn't happened, he never would've been able to go back to his own universe to live out his life. They'd been together day and night, and he'd become accustomed to her always being there.

When John completed the rope, he tested his handiwork and found it very strong, able to hold his full weight and remaining intact when he tugged it with all his strength. Sue would be proud of how resourceful he'd shown himself to be.

The trap he made was simple in design. He hoisted a small boulder tied to the rope up into a tree, propping it there with a short length of thick branch. To this, he tied a length of twine that ran to a perch in another tree thirty yards away. He made a lasso from the free end of the rope and suspended it from the tree. He then put his bait at the base of the tree trunk and stacked masses of brush from other trees on either side. The tree trunk and brush formed a U-shaped opening, forcing the animal to put his head through the noose to access the food. John would then pull on his length of twine. This would release the block under the boulder and cause it to fall from the tree, tightening the noose around the neck of the animal.

The first afternoon John set his snare, several of the animals came near it. They sniffed the tasty bait but moved off without falling for the trap. John didn't give up though. He'd learned that much from Sue and was determined to make his snare work. He'd spent too much time making the rope to give in so easily. As he continued to observe the animals, he noticed that they smelled something wrong.

"That's it!" he exclaimed, pounding his fist into the other hand. "They're smelling my scent on the snare. I'll have to mask it somehow."

The next day, he spent the afternoon pounding the leaves of the pine smelling plant between two flat rocks. Once smashed into a paste, the odor of the plant became overpowering. He rubbed the paste on the rope and every surface around his trap, spreading it on the ground too.

It was mid-afternoon when a group of five animals came up to the trap. This time they weren't spooked, and two of them stood side by side with their heads through the noose while they ate. He had them, but when he pulled on his twine, nothing happened. The small block was so tightly wedged under the rock that it wouldn't come out. He was failing again.

John's muscles tensed and he cursed to himself, _That piece-of-shit block better come loose!_

He shifted his body around to get better leverage. He leaned back along the length of the limb, digging his heels into the jagged crevices of its thick bark. The scraping sounds of his shoes alerted the deer-like creatures.

The animals all perked up their heads, ears twitching back to localize its source. John froze, waiting for the animals to relax again. When they started to move off, he cursed to himself and pulled with all his strength. The block popped from its anchorage.

While the boulder descended, John wasn't watching. The sudden release of tension on his trip line sprung him backward, and his body spun from the tree. He caught his arm around the large limb before going over, his shoulder snapping back as he dangled fifteen feet over the ground below. His heart raced. Even a moderate injury in a wilderness like this would be deadly. If he broke an arm or a leg, he wouldn't be able to climb into his tree nest, and he'd become prey for the wolf-like creatures.

Taking deep breaths, John hung from the tree for a moment then dropped himself to the ground in an inelegant roll. He felt his limbs, but he had no serious injury. He shook off the stun and looked at his trap.

A lone deer swung from the tree.

"Yes, yes!" he whooped out as he got to his feet. He ignored the twinges in his arm and legs and hobbled over to look at the fruit of his labor. He stared while the beast hypnotically swung overhead, the grin on his face growing to ever larger proportions. He'd never fancied himself an outdoorsman and had spent little time in nature, but he stood tall with his chest out. This was a great accomplishment for him.

"Sue would be proud. I didn't give up."

If only she were here now to see his success. She'd once told him that her work would never be the same without her father around to show his pride. That's the way it was for him now. While he finally had venison to feast on, his success wasn't as great as if Sue were here to share it.

Still glowing despite this, John untied the rope from around the boulder and lowered the deer to the ground. In his hour of joy, a scowl came to his face. Now that he had the animal, how did one go about dissecting it into something edible?

A movement from ahead caught his eye. He froze when one of the native men came around a tree and stood glaring at him. With the deadly spear the man carried, John would be no match for him. The native would kill him with ease in a fight and would spear him in the back if he ran. John stood his ground, perspiration dampening his face and body. How much longer would he be alive?

*****

Sue turned her head from the cup of tea Bechler offered. "I don't want any right now."

He and Bob had brought her to the overstuffed chair in her living room several minutes earlier to calm her down. She'd been hysterical for a time in the barn, the grief of yet another loss in her life almost pushing her to the breaking point.

Bechler placed the cup on the table beside her then watched as she pushed the steaming cup to the opposite side of the table, a secure distance from her carefully positioned novel. She leaned back and sat in silence. The muscles of her face hung limply in a blank expression, the earlier outpouring exhausting her. Her mind circled with thoughts of what had happened: the joy she felt with John's declaration that he loved her, and the loss of that love so soon after. She felt neither love nor grief now though. She only examined them in her thoughts like she was reading down a column of numbers from the results of an experiment.

Even in her deepest anguish over her father's death, Sue hadn't experienced the detachment she encountered now. The emotion had poured out, but now it was like the spigot had been turned off and the flow stopped. Or was it that the vessel had been completely drained, and no matter how much one tried to open the spout, there was nothing left inside. Would she ever feel anything again? Maybe her remaining days would be better if she didn't.

There was a gentle squeeze on her hand when Uncle Bob tried to console her. From the corner of her eye, she saw him sit on the couch, still grasping the back of her hand.

A conversation started up behind her. Though her ears heard the sound, her mind tried to filter out the content of what was said.

"Vince, what is happening?" Jen asked as she came into the room.

"Where have you been all this time?" Bechler asked.

"I have been in the office connected to the Internet doing some research."

"Oh, something terrible happened."

As Bechler explained everything, Bob rose from the couch and walked over to them. When the agent had finished the story, Bob asked, "Who's this?"

"I'm sorry, Director, this is Jen" Bechler said. "She's from the universe the conspirators were trying to steal technology from."

"You mean _this_ is the robot Sue told me about?"

"Yes, I am a robot," Jen responded, letting Bob take her hand into his.

"This is remarkable," Bob exclaimed, turning her palm up to examine its surface. "There's no way I could tell you're not human." When he let go of her hand, he looked at Bechler. "You are sure, aren't you?"

"I know. I didn't believe it at first either." He looked at Jen. "Show him your power supply."

Jen lifted her shirt without hesitation and opened the invisible compartment in her breastbone. Bob's eyes bulged. "I'll be damned. It is a robot!"

When Jen sealed the compartment and lowered her shirt, she looked at Bechler. "Vince, you said the power was turned up all the way on the quantum shifter?"

"Yeah. McAndrews wanted to transport Sue, John and me to another universe and keep our bodies there to remove any evidence."

"I am aware of how unstable the machine can be for a time at normal power settings. Does it not fluctuate even more at full power?"

"Well, yes," Bechler replied.

"How much time had lapsed between when John set the parameters and he shifted out?"

"Hmmm. I'm not sure with all the distraction, but I'd say it was less than five minutes."

"Just as I suspected," Jen said. "The field did not have time to stabilize; therefore, we should not assume the worst possible scenario."

"What do you mean?" Bob questioned, his eyes narrowing.

"Because of the field's instability at the time of John's shift, the quantum gateway field strength could have been anywhere from zero to the maximum level the machine is able to produce. Since John would be able to withstand transport at the lower end of the field strengths, I would estimate there is a thirty percent chance he would be able to survive transport under the scenario given."

Sue, who'd only been peripherally listening to the others, snapped out of her seclusion. She sprang from the chair and exclaimed, "You mean he might still be alive somewhere?"

"Yes, that is a possibility. However, before we can draw any conclusions, I would like to examine the quantum shifter log files so we can determine the exact values at the time of the shift."

*****

John's heart rate slowed when he saw the native staring at the animal rather than him. The native obviously wanted the animal for his own. John wouldn't have a chance in a fight, so he backed away. The other man walked to the deer and held it up. After he cut the rope, he motioned for John to get closer. He pointed at John, then himself, miming that they should eat it together.

John stared at the beast, savoring its flavor with his eyes. How could he let the native walk off with his prize? He didn't seem hostile and wanted to share the kill with him. Should he take a chance? When the man moved in the direction of the stream, John followed. As he did, he took a closer look at the native. The man didn't even come up to his shoulder but was stocky and well-muscled. He seemed to be somewhere in his early twenties.

They walked farther downstream from where John's tree nest was. When they got close to the bank, a woman appeared from around a tree, and John jumped back. Although she looked younger, she must be the man's mate. Even shorter than the native, her body was thin with narrow hips and small breasts, which gave the impression that she was in her late teens at best.

When the young woman caught sight of the animal, her face lit up, and she ran to meet them. The man stopped and swung the animal to the ground. She fell to her knees beside the beast and stroked its brown fur. The two began to flash hand motions amongst themselves. They didn't speak but used hand signals instead. John examined their faces while they conversed. They had thick sloping foreheads and wide, thick jaws. Their primitive bone structure, contrasting with the refined stone spears, made it seem as if they'd reached a different stage of evolution than the humanity of John's own world.

Their exchange ended, and the woman dragged the animal backward, the man motioning for John to follow. After a few dozen yards, they stopped at a campsite near the edge of the stream. Stone tools and animal skin bundles lay around a small pile of branches clustered into the makings of a fire.

The woman took a stone knife from one of the hide packs and continued dragging the animal downstream from them. The man motioned for John to stay with him, and sat down beside the woodpile, producing several stones from one of the bundles. He struck them together, sparks flying into a pile of dry moss at the edge of the wood. After several hits, a light wisp of smoke rose from the clump. Soon the flames were growing large, and the heavier branches of the main pile were beginning to ignite.

Meanwhile, the woman had stopped dragging John's kill and was slashing it with the knife. Once she gutted it, she carried the carcass back to the campsite and continued the rest of the skinning and butchering there. When the bulk of the job was complete, the girl extracted two chunks of organ meat and gave them to the man. He held one out to John, who shook his head. He'd never developed a taste for liver or kidney and wasn't about to try now. Instead, he pointed to one of the legs and the woman sliced it off for him. John skewered it with a stick and held the leg over the fire to cook it while the native did the same with the liver.

The girl sat next to her mate and waited until the cooking was done. The man tore off a chunk of the liver and gave it to her, afterward taking a cautious bite of the steaming meat himself. The interior still oozed as they ate.

As John continued to stare into the fire and cook the leg, his heart felt like it was sinking. He missed Sue more than he thought possible. He felt closer to her than to anyone in his entire life, and that was why he was so empty now. He shook his head as he thought of how often he'd been glad to get away from his mother or Rita for a short time, but not Sue. He could spend eternity with her and never tire of her presence.

His two companions had long since finished their meal and twilight was falling by the time John's meat was done and he began to eat. The flesh, while a bit gamey, was quite lean, and he enjoyed it even more for the berries and sour apple fare he'd been forced to eat these last days.

John took a large bite off the leg and was chewing when the man rolled over and mounted the young woman, the two having sex in full view. He sucked in air at the shock and choked when a piece of meat went down the wrong way. He spat his mouthful and coughed away for half a minute, clearing his lungs. While the couple had stopped for a moment to look at him, they soon continued when they saw he was all right. But John wasn't.

He continued to hack and turned his reddened face, unsure if it was from the coughing or from embarrassment. When his fit subsided and his face was still burning, it was embarrassment. While he continued to look away, he still heard the sounds of their activity. John didn't consider himself a prude, but in his world, every instinct and experience had taught him that he shouldn't be around while they did this. He started to walk away when it became silent. Although they were probably done, it was several minutes before he dared to look. When he did, they were sitting apart looking into the fire. Still shaken, John gazed into the fire himself, nibbling on the bone.

Producing a stone hatchet from one of the packs, the man rose and walked off. Several times, John glanced over at the girl, who was staring at him, a shy smile on her face. After several minutes, the man returned with a sizable tree branch and began to strip away branches and throw them into the fire.

John threw the gnawed bone into the fire too, watching while the other finished with the smaller sections and began chopping away at the larger portions of the limb. The girl rose and walked to John, standing over him for a moment before sitting on the ground next to him. He threw her a quick glance. There was a smile on her homely face. He focused his attention back on the man but turned his head around when he felt her stroking the sleeve of his shirt. While at first he tried to yank his arm away, he could now see her focus was on the colored cloth. She'd never seen anything like it and was curious.

When her fascination with the cloth wore off, she began to caress first his arm and then his chest. His eyes were ready to burst from their sockets as John looked back and forth between the girl and man. The two were mates, so her attentions on John were sure to enrage the man. He seemed oblivious though and continued chopping at the branch, looking at the two for a second then focusing back on his task.

The girl became more aggressive in her desire and began to tug at his clothes to remove them. Her face was getting closer to his. Was she about to kiss him? He rolled away from her and stood.

"No! Stop it!" John asserted, shaking his head at her.

She grunted a few times, her head hanging low when she backed off. He was a giant towering over her, and there was no way she could force her will. A pang of guilt hit him as she sat with her eyes staring into her lap.

He sat back on the ground, rolling his eyes. What the hell had happened in the past few weeks? Here he was, the man who women found repulsive, the man who thought he was lucky to have any woman, even Rita. Now, he seemed to be the man who attracted them: first Jen, then Sue, and now this primitive, Paleolithic girl. It was so ironic; he began to laugh out loud.

"John Fuller: chick magnet!" he said, continuing to chuckle. He looked over at the dejected girl and saw a pained grimace on her face as though he were laughing at her. Continuing to chuckle, he crawled over to her and laid a hand on her hers. He smiled at her and nodded. She grinned back and moved towards him again, but he shook his head. He took her rough hand into his, patted the back of it with his other, and said, "No, I don't want to, but I appreciate the offer."

She seemed to get the idea and relaxed into a seated position as she gave a squeeze to his hand. She let go and signed something to him, but he had no idea what she was saying. It didn't matter though because she seemed content nonetheless.

As he considered the situation further, he shook his head. It wasn't that he'd suddenly become irresistible to women, but had just been thrown into the right circumstances. With Sue, it was that they'd been together day and night for so long and she had plenty of time to get to know him. If they'd met under different circumstances and had only interacted for a short period, she would've never fallen in love with him.

With Jen, he was the first man that she was around after being restored to her robotic body. Her emotions were developing, and she'd become drawn to John by an adolescent infatuation. She was essentially a teenage girl with a crush on an older man.

With the native girl, it was his unique appearance. He'd read somewhere that men and women were attracted to people who were different physically from themselves to increase the genetic diversity of the human species. That was one reason that some men were so drawn to blonde women. They were a much smaller percentage of the human population and thus more exotic. He couldn't let himself have a swollen head and think he was suddenly the most attractive man in the world. He knew better. He was still only John Fuller.

Even so, he smiled. Regardless of the circumstances, he'd still won Sue's love. Despite years of thinking himself a failure and believing he wasn't worthy of someone like her, she'd fallen in love with him: him, John Fuller. Not some façade he'd put on but the real, genuine person. She'd seen his many flaws exposed and looked past them, loving him anyway. A tingle began in his heart and spread throughout his entire body. He'd finally gained what he craved most of his life. The question was, though, would he ever see Sue again?

As nighttime started to fall and its blackness enveloped the forest, the howling of the wolf-like creatures signaled it was time for their nightly prowl. The sputtering crackle and bright dazzle of the fire held them at bay not far off. As he lay down on his side, the compacted ground jabbing into his ribs, he waited for slumber to come. He wished for the comfort of his treetop nest but soon forgot it once the soothing warmth of the fire lulled him into a semiconscious twilight. Just before sleep descended on him, he felt a light touch on his back when the girl curled up behind him for refuge from the murky night.

*****

"Thanks for coming in on such short notice Eric," Bob Humboldt said, leaning forward in his desk chair.

Senior Agent Eric Peterson seated himself in one of the chairs across from the director, his lanky frame only filling half the expanse of the wide seat.

"No problem, Bob."

"Your quick response yesterday saved my niece's life. If you'd been only a minute later . . ." Bob choked off the last part, his body shuddering. Sue had come so close to being killed. It was still hard to think about it. He cleared his throat and continued. "Anyway, she means a lot to me personally and to the quantum shifting project. With Manny gone, Sue's the only one who can keep the project going. That young lady is going to change the world, and it wouldn't be possible without what you did."

"Thanks, Bob. I know how close you two are and I know how close we were to not making it in time yesterday. I'm just glad we did."

"Me too, and I wanted to thank you for it," Bob said with a nod. "I also needed you here to talk about something else."

"What's that, Bob?"

"We've known each other for a long time. What is it, thirty years now?"

Peterson crinkled his forehead. "Something like that."

Agent Peterson had worked with Bob when he was still a field agent many years earlier. They'd teamed up on several investigations in Eastern Europe and the Middle East before Sue was born. While he'd never shown himself to be anything but reliable, Bob always had reservations about the man, especially since moving into administration. The agent seemed like a bit of a suck up, and Bob had an inherent mistrust of these types, always thinking they were trying to manipulate. He was having second thoughts about this opinion of Peterson though.

Bob continued, "After that many years, you get to know someone and build a trust."

"That you do," Peterson said, the edge of his lip curling up.

"I want you to head up the investigation on the shifting project now. We need to know everything that McAndrews and Baxter were doing and if anyone else around here was in on it with them. You're the only one I can trust, Eric." He balled his fists as he scowled. "My big mistake was trusting Larry McAndrews. I knew that damn Phil was up to no good, but I never thought he could corrupt Larry like that."

"From what I understand, it was a hell of a lot of money they were pulling in. I suppose everyone has a price though."

"I suppose so, but don't you get any ideas," Bob said, flashing a grin.

Peterson laughed. "Come on Bob. You know I'm comfortable in my lifestyle. Hell, if I wanted more money, I wouldn't have stayed in the field so long."

The smile left Bob's face. "I know that Eric. That's why you're the man for this job. It won't be easy work once the FBI sticks their nose in. If you can stay a step ahead of them and gather all the facts before they do, we can put an end to it quick."

Bob just wanted to get the investigation moving as fast as possible so he could put this whole bad episode behind him. It would be disruptive having the FBI snooping all over his agency, but it was inevitable. If Peterson could run with this in marathon fashion and make the FBI investigators look like they were dragging their feet on purpose, he could force them to end the investigation quickly.

Peterson rolled his pale blue eyes to the ceiling. "Oh God, I really hate it when we have to work with other agencies. The bastards always want to show us how it's done."

"Yeah, I know. That's another reason you're the best man for the job. You have a lot of experience in these situations. Someone else could work our side of this and really piss them off. Then it'll be a couple of years instead of months to get back on track." Bob looked the agent in the eye. "Eric, will you do this for me? I know I owe you already for yesterday, but I really need you on this one."

"You don't owe me anything for yesterday, Bob." Peterson snorted, "But the FBI, that one you'll owe me for."

*****

The deer sniffed the air for a moment, its delicate, black nose quivering while it decided if strange scents were approaching. When satisfied, its slender neck dipped back down, and it began to gnaw on the branch of tender leaves it had left a moment before.

John let go his bated breath, and his fist relaxed on the haft of the spear he was holding. The deer wasn't going to bolt. He and the young native girl, who he now called "Jane," had spent the last several minutes waiting for the native man, who he called "Tarzan," to work his way into position. She was some forty yards from John behind another tree, waiting like himself for the signal from Tarzan to flush the deer towards his position.

He glanced at Jane, checking that she was still at her post and, as usual, she was staring at him. She waved with a bright smile on her face when she saw him looking. Without thinking he held up a hand in acknowledgment. She was always gawking at him, but he usually just ignored it. It was only when she and Tarzan, without any warning, had sex that he noticed it anymore. When he walked away, her eyes followed him, almost like she wished it were John she was with instead of Tarzan.

It was several weeks since John's arrival, and they'd long since consumed the deer he snared. They were back to eating berries and the small squirrel creatures they could catch, but these were most unsatisfying in comparison to the venison. They'd made several attempts at hunting down deer before the one today, but all had proven unsuccessful. The creatures were far too alert and fast to get close enough to bring one down with a spear. Tarzan had been able to hit several but, at the distance he'd thrown from, it never penetrated enough to stop them.

Once John had learned enough of their sign language to communicate with them, he discovered why only the two of them were out here alone. They were from a small tribe a day's journey from the forest but had been outcast from it several seasons before. The girl was the daughter of the chief, who had promised her to a man of another tribe. That was until she and Tarzan were caught together.

For their shameful behavior, the tribe had banished them. It was their responsibility as outcasts to avoid other members. If a tribe member saw one of them, the consequences could be severe, ranging from a beating to having stones thrown at them.

Again, John shook off his thoughts and went back to the deer. Damn it. Where was Tarzan anyway? It would take some time to quietly circle wide around the animal, but not this long.

John shifted on his feet as he blew out a breath. His thoughts drifted again. Since it had been so successful before, he thought of making a second rope to snare another deer but decided instead to construct a bow. Tarzan had shown his skill at spear making and had fashioned one for John, but without the almost lifetime of practice that Tarzan had, he'd never become as proficient. Instead, he focused on making a bow, which he knew he'd be able to use. He'd taken an archery class in college and had gotten quite accurate with it. While there was no way he could construct a compound bow under his current conditions, he had hopes of fashioning a serviceable short bow.

When John started the process, he thought that making the arrows straight enough to fly a true path would be difficult. It turned out that this was the simple part. With Tarzan's skill at constructing spears, it was child's play for him to make the arrows. When John signed that one of the arrows could bring down a deer, the native laughed at him and at the small size of the tiny spears.

Although the arrows turned out to be easy, the bow was a different matter. They'd made several attempts, but each time the branch crackled then snapped when he stretched the bowstring across it. When he tried a looser bowstring, there was no power behind it. They had another bow in process using wood that seemed better suited than the others.

The birdcall of Tarzan, which signaled he was in position, interrupted John's thoughts. John shot a look at Jane and, this time, she nodded at him that she'd heard too. The deer was shuffling around again from the shrill of the bird sound. It stood its ground though while John brought his arm up then snapped it down as a signal for Jane to move out.

The two came around their trees in unison. John yelled, "Ha! Ha!" and ran in the direction of the deer, Jane grunting as she sprinted towards it. The deer shot off in Tarzan's direction. John thundered after it with his spear held high, his feet pounding as he ran faster than he ever tried to before. The beast was too swift though and bolted out of any range he could hope to throw. He continued nonetheless, praying that Tarzan would drop it with his spear.

A moment later, Tarzan emerged and launched his weapon. The throw was too late and whizzed past the tail of the speeding creature. John eased his pace as words flew from his mouth, "Son of a bitch! You threw it too late!"

As he came up to Tarzan, he slowed and then stopped in front of the stout native. He was about to let loose a fusillade of obscenities but caught himself. Tarzan was grunting and stomping around, angry with himself. While Tarzan was very skillful at throwing, the deer were swift and maneuverable. The throw was most likely accurate, but the animal had probably altered its speed at the last second as it dodged around the trees. Besides, John and Jane hadn't driven it in the exact spot, and Tarzan had to throw it farther than anticipated. It was really no one's fault.

John put his hand on the man's shoulder. "It's all right. It wasn't your fault." He signed the same message with his hands.

Tarzan's arms and hands flew about in response, but the signs were going by so fast they were unintelligible. Jane came up alongside them, and she too tried to comfort the agitated hunter. Tarzan signed that he no longer wished to discuss the matter and stormed off after his spear, picking it up and continuing into the forest away from them.

Jane stood there looking after him for a moment then turned to John. She asked in sign, " _What you say him?_ "

He signed back, " _No his fault._ "

She nodded and signed, " _He angry; he go._ "

" _Come_ ," he signed and started walking back to their camp.

*****

Sue sat in her chair, book in hand but her eyes staring at the wall. She couldn't concentrate on the story she was reading, her mind too focused on John. It had been several weeks since he'd shifted out, long past the time where he'd simply shift back on his own. She and Jen were analyzing the data they'd collected to see if they could determine where he may have ended up.

When Jen had first suggested John could still be living, Sue ran back to the quantum shifter with the others following. The numbers showed the power levels well within the limits that a person could survive. But after the initial elation came heartbreak. Given the field instabilities, there was no way to determine where he was or if he'd ever come back.

At that point, Bechler and his team had given up. But Jen shifted back to her universe and collected every scrap of data contained in the library computer that could help them solve the mystery. When everyone else had given up, Jen refused to. Bechler and the other scientists in his lab had almost talked Sue into forgetting about John and moving on with her life. However, with Jen's unwavering certainty that they'd find him, and both the women united in convincing the others, they'd succeeded in gaining Bechler and his team's help.

They started by studying the strange oscillations that Bechler had detected in the matter of John's body then progressed to the phenomenon that occurred when that unstable shift took place. If not for the vast amount of information brought back by Jen, they never would've stumbled upon the truth. It was possible to not only shift to an alternate universe but also to any time in its past or future, and any location within it.

Once they discovered this, tracking down John's whereabouts became even more complicated. The variables were so numerous and the calculations so vast that Jen had to bring the problem to the library computer. Sue was waiting for Jen return with the results of the latest calculations. She blew out her breath and made another attempt at reading her book but again lost track as her mind wandered.

"Sue?" called Jen as she opened the front door.

"In here."

"I am afraid we got the same results as last time," Jen said, walking up to her.

Sue slumped back into the chair, her mind reeling. She'd lost two of the most important people in her life: first her father and now John. Her father was gone for good, but she'd continued to hold out hope for John.

"He's gone," Sue said. "He's gone forever. I know it!"

Jen knelt down beside her and began to rub her shoulder. "We still cannot say that with certainty, Sue. There are still other parameters that were not added into the equations yet."

"We just have to face that he's gone."

"I cannot, Sue. I will not accept that until we have exhausted all possibilities. We must not give up hope until then. I have already set the library computer to run the calculations with the additional parameters you came up with. I had hoped the previous run would yield additional results so we would not have to resort to this. Given all the variables in this set of equations though, it will take approximately seventeen days, two hours and forty-three minutes to complete."

"It may as well take a million years to run. The results will be the same. He's going to continue to bounce from universe to universe. His atomic structure is unstable because of the fluctuations during the shift. Bechler and his team told us that, weeks ago. We need to accept it, Jen. He'll shift endlessly for the rest of time!" She slowly shook her head as tears rolled down her cheeks. "He's too good of a man to be pushed into an eternal hell like that."

"No, Sue! I don't care what Bechler says. They don't have all the answers. They've only scratched the surface of the physics behind shifting. You know more than they do about it. Your original equations were much more complete than theirs. You know that! Sue, I can't do this without you. My brain isn't creative enough to build on the equations like you have. If you give up, I can't continue looking for him, and I'm not ready for that."

   Sue wiped her eyes and stared at her. Jen was acting differently. Her facial expression and speech were unlike anything Sue had ever noticed. Jen was always a little stiff in her manners, but now she was acting more humanlike than ever before.

"Jen, are you alright?"

"Yes, of course. Why do you ask?"

"I don't know, you seem different somehow."

"I am just convinced of what I say, that is all. You need to have faith, Sue. We will find the answer. I know we will. You just have to be patient."

"Patient! I've been patient for weeks." She looked back at Jen. "It's easy for you. You're a machine, so you have the patience of a saint."

Jen turned her face away from Sue, her eyes closing. They eased open again as she stood and walked over to the window in silence.

Why had she used such thoughtless words? Now she'd hurt Jen's feelings. While John had started to consider Jen as human, she still hadn't. In the last few weeks though, her opinion had begun to change. Although she was an artificial life, Jen was growing into a woman, a real woman, just like Sue. Thinking back, all she could remember of the past weeks was Jen trying to cheer her and assure her that they'd get John back. And how had she repaid this kindness? By continuing to treat Jen as an inferior. A machine.

"Jen, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. I know you're more than a robot. John saw it in you a long time ago and now so do I. You've grown to be so much more." Sue snorted. "I guess I've still held it against you a little because I thought John was in love with you and not me. My jealousy doesn't die easily.  I know how you feel about him and you want to see him back just as much as I do. I'm going to stop being a selfish brat and start treating you like I should have all along, like the friend you've been to both of us. Will you forgive me?"

Jen turned to face Sue, a shy smile crossing her lips. "Of course, Sue. Don't worry though, John loves you a great deal. I have seen it all this time while I have been trying to work out what my own feelings are. I thought I loved him. I even told him I did, but I am not really sure how I feel about him. Sometimes I think of him in what you would consider a romantic way, but most times I think of him as a friend . . ." She paused for a moment, her forehead crinkling, ". . . or maybe even as a father. Emotions are difficult for me, so I am just not sure how I really feel most of the time."

Sue chuckled. "Welcome to the world of humans. We can love someone and hate them at the same time. We're happy as can be one second and depressed the next. And, sometimes, just like you, we don't even know what we're feeling. It just takes time."

Jen smiled back and pulled Sue towards her in a hug. "Thank you, Sue. With John gone, I have felt loneliness for the first time in my life. It is nice to know I have someone else I can consider a friend."

As they held the embrace, the smile left Sue's face. "Jen, do you really think there's still a chance?"

Jen pulled away and looked into Sue's eyes. "For getting John back? Of course I do." A crooked smile came to her face. "I'm a robot. I wouldn't lie to you."

*****

The afternoon was heating up, and the intense chase for the deer had already made John wet with sweat. It was an hour at a steady pace before they arrived back at their camp and, by then, he was limping. He looked back towards the path they'd just come down. Where was Tarzan? His temper would have cooled by now, and he should have caught up to them. John shrugged. There was still plenty of daylight left, and the native would be along soon.

John collapsed at the foot of a tree to catch his breath, but Jane went straight to the stream and waded into the water. She crept into the cool tributary, her lean body shivering with each advancing step. Soon she was in to her shoulders and bobbed her head under, her teeth chattering when she shot back over the surface. Smiling at John, she waved for him to come. "Ohn, ohn."

He smiled. She was trying her hardest to say, "John." She was doing this more, and he'd encouraged her rough speech. She was quite intelligent and quick to learn the other things he'd taught her, but she was having trouble with talking. It was probably a physiological limitation, but she persisted nonetheless.

When she made another attempt at vocalizing his name, he said, "What the hell, it'll cool me off, and I can use the bath anyway."

Having become used to Jane's prying eyes, John stripped off his remaining clothes and went to the edge of the creek. The crisp water was a delight to his swollen feet when he padded onto the silky smooth silt and rounded river stones. When in over ankle depth, he paused, his legs becoming chilled from the frigid stream. He was bending down and splashing water onto his calves when a sudden splatter of iciness struck his body full on. The shock of it stung, and he tensed every muscle against the onslaught of the cold water. Jane giggled, and the water whooshed while her hand came forward in another splash. He was raising his head and looking in her direction, so this time the water not only caught his body but his face too.

Jane's giggle transformed into a full cackle as he mopped his dripping face. When he wiped his eyes and opened them, she put her hand over her mouth in an attempt to smother the laughter. It was no good though. As the blur of his vision cleared, he could still see the smile on each exposed cheek and the tremor of her body with each convulsion of dying laughter.

"Why you little . . ." John called to her.

He bolted into the cold rivulet, ignoring the remaining nip it carried, only slowing when the water's resistance grew against his forward progress. Jane screamed when she saw him charging, and she turned downstream, plodding along as best she could. His stronger muscles and longer legs won out, and he snatched her up, her shriek intensifying as he heaved her into the cold depths. Her light little body sailed through the air before hitting the water with a resounding splat.

It was John's turn to laugh when her head emerged with a swell from the glossy surface, globs of hair plastered over her eyes and face. She pulled the tangled mass back to clear her vision. When the sight and sound of his laughter sunk in, she charged him, hands shoving water at him as fast as she could. John splashed back, and soon they were both laughing, each able to get their fair share of splattering hits.

John ended the match when he dove into the water and swam to the opposite shoreline. Jane couldn't follow once she reached the point where the water rose to the level of her chin. She turned back, her lips quivering and eyes darting about. She couldn't swim. John walked back to her by the shore, his head remaining above the surface.

When he got alongside her, he signed, " _You no . . ._ " He leaned forward and made swimming motions in the air. Jane shook her head, so he signed, "I show you."

He took her hand, walked her back to waist deep water, and signed, "Kick legs." He crunched up his body in the shallow water and showed her. She did the same but stopped when she almost fell forward, propping herself up with a hand to John's chest.

John signed to her, "Move hands back and forth." Again he demonstrated by crunching up his body and treading the water. He'd teach her the finer points later, but if she could at least tread water, she could maneuver a little. She learned fast and was soon able to doggie paddle. The inefficient swim was tiring work though and, after a time, she wasn't able to continue.

Jane reached out and snatched at John to keep from going under, her hands clutching him around the neck.

He chuckled, "Gets tiring after a while, doesn't it?" Holding onto her, he was unable to sign, but she nodded, seeming to understand nonetheless. Her big brown eyes gazed into his for a moment then she eased forward and kissed him.

Previous times, she'd always come at him aggressively, causing him to recoil. This time her manner was different and he let her. He kissed back, her eyes closing when she melted with his returned affection.

When she pulled back, he looked at her. Her primal features were something he could grow accustomed to. In fact, the longer he knew her, the less important the physical differences were. While she wasn't attractive by the standards of his world, there was a profound beauty to her nonetheless.

When she smiled, her whole face illuminated as though her soul were ready to burst with joy. When he became depressed from missing Sue or his temper flared because of a splintering bow, Jane could always pull him from his doldrums with a simple smile. There was something so contagious in it that it ignited cheerfulness in him and the entire forest around her.

Really, she was no less attractive than Rita and far more pleasant. She was a very bright and intelligent young woman who was anxious to learn and worked hard when needed. And, in times like these, she was very playful, and her laughter was contagious. If he had to stay here for the remainder of his life, he could do no better than her.

He shuddered. What if he never saw Sue again? He'd already been here far longer than in the desert universe. Could it be possible that he'd made his last shift? He felt a jab in his heart like he'd been stabbed with a knife. The pain was unbearable, so he closed his eyes, imagining it was Sue in his arms.

Jane's lips moved close to his again, and she began kissing him. John again returned it. At first, she was gentle like before, but when her hunger grew, the kiss became more passionate. Her body molded itself to his as she wrapped her legs around his waist. John threw his eyes open, and with some trouble, tore himself away from her embrace. Her clutch wasn't what made it difficult though. His hunger had almost overwhelmed him.

When John pulled back, Jane wasn't upset but radiated with a grin as she stroked his face with her hand. He gave her a shy smile back and pulled her legs from around him.

He said, "Okay, time to get off."

She did, and John walked back to the shore. He pulled on his clothes with downturned eyes. He couldn't look at her just yet, the desire still too powerful. Although for a short time he'd fantasized it was Sue he was kissing, when he began to kiss back so fervently, the realization it wasn't had struck him. He hadn't pulled away immediately though. He'd almost lost himself in the moment and had started to kiss Jane back, fully realizing it was her and not Sue. His heart thumped as his mind whirled, trying to understand why.

 It had been weeks since he had sex with Rita, even though it felt more like years with all that had happened. John's desire was strong. Part of him wanted to ravage the young woman as much as she wanted to ravage him, but he couldn't. While Jen had been as persistent as Jane was, and much more beautiful physically, it had never been this difficult to resist her. Why? Was it just the long time lapse since he had any sexual release or was it the more animal-like existence he'd lived these past days? He didn't know. He only knew it was hard to pull away from her. The memory of Sue had brought him to his senses.

John sat under his regular tree then glanced up at Jane. She'd likewise come out of the water but was lying in the sun on a patch of the vine at water's edge. She looked different somehow. It was hard keeping his eyes off her body. He hadn't found the slim straightness of her figure or the small swell of her breasts appealing before, but now, for some reason, they were enormously so.

Given time, he'd have to surrender to desire, but he just couldn't do it now. There was still too much of a chance that his existence here would end and that he'd again be with the woman he loved.

He'd dreamed of Sue many nights, the one where they were making love. He'd wished his entire life to find a woman like her and had forced himself to settle for Rita. Having waited so long before, he wouldn't give up hope and surrender to mere impulse. He looked at Jane again. Is that all it was?

He needed to distract himself and working on his unfinished bow was the best way. It was almost done, another afternoon or so away from completion. He picked up his handiwork, placing one end on the ground and holding the other end with his hand. With the back of it facing him, he pulled the handle towards himself to tiller it. This was the process used to verify that each limb of the bow flexed the same as the other and to test its overall draw weight. John also listened for any cracking noise, being hypersensitive to this from his earlier failures. He heard none, and the tension was about where he needed it. One limb flexed less than the other so needed fine-tuning to achieve balance.

He clutched his stone tool and sat on the ground, shaving at the wood in the manner that Tarzan had shown him. The rock's surface was rough like a fine-tooth wood rasp and wore down the material in an even manner. The swishing sound of the stone as he drew it across the wood was hypnotizing.

As he continued shaping the bow, he thought of Tarzan. When would the native return to camp? As mad as he'd been, he'd stay away from Jane and him for some time, but he should have been back already. Hopefully, he wouldn't be gone too much longer. Being alone with Jane was more of a temptation.

John had been working for some time when Jane walked past. She smiled at him when he looked up from his work. The edge of his mouth curled up despite his best efforts, but he moved his eyes back to his work. As she sauntered past and began to build the evening's fire, he shot quick glances at her. After looking several times at her narrow hips and petite derriere twisting about in work, he forced his eyes back on his task.

He continued to rhythmically swish the stone along the surface of the bow. How long could he wait? Would another month have to pass before he was sure he was stuck here? Would he then give in to his and Jane's urges and try to find some small happiness away from the love he'd never see again?

For now, he wasn't ready to give up on returning to Sue. If he had to stay here though, he'd need the bow he was working on. His scraping took on renewed vigor as his mind eased, if even only for a short time, by the decision he'd come to.

*****

"So, what have you got for me, Eric?" Bob Humboldt asked, his finger tapping on a stack of folders on his desk.

"I have this thing wrapped up for you, Bob. I just wanted to check in like you asked before turning over my final report."

It had been five months since he met with Peterson to ask for his assistance and this was the first time Eric had requested a meeting. Maybe the agent had uncovered something and wanted to discuss it with him. Hopefully not. The investigation just needed to be over so he could continue with the quantum shifting project and not be under the microscope anymore. Sue needed to be back in the lab and the project moving into high gear. Even though she was broken up over the loss of both John and Manny, it would be best for her at this point to get back to work so she could take her mind off all the tragedy. He'd been going to see her more frequently again. He gnawed his lip. Maybe he should call her more between visits.

Bob switched focus to the matter at hand. "So did you find out if anyone else was involved in this thing?"

"I don't know if you had a chance to read my last report yet, but I said I was going to interview three contract programmers from Harrison Technical. I think you knew about them, right?"

 "Yeah, sure. Manny hired them to work on the control program for the quantum shifter. You say they were in on this too then?"

"In a way. They were instructed by Phil to go to one of the alternate universes to hack into a computer there."

"Yeah, Sue had mentioned they were doing that but didn't say specifically who it was. So it was these contractors?"

"Yep. Phil was paying them to do it on the side. Harrison wasn't involved, just their programmers. They didn't know anything about what was going on in the other universe with the gold. Phil obviously didn't want to let them in on the bigger picture."

Bob nodded. "Yeah, that makes sense. I don't think Phil or Larry were that computer savvy that they could crack into a big system like that. You're sure these guys don't know anything else then?" Bob asked, the thrumming of his finger hammering out a steady beat.

 "Yeah, I grilled them pretty hard. I did the standard drill of isolating them and then giving them the line of crap that the other guy spilled the beans. You know the routine. The FBI crew went at them too, and they weren't any nicer. Believe me, these guys were pissing in their pants the whole time. They would've told if there was anything to tell."

 "Great. So we have the original four that were in on the whole job and these three programmers that were paid to hack. Anyone else?"

"No, just that list of people I sent you a couple of months ago. You know, the ones who Baxter bribed to keep quiet about the power usage? They didn't know anything beyond that though. They weren't actually involved except to keep quiet." Peterson crinkled his forehead. "There may have been more we could have learned about this if we'd been able to get into Phil's or Larry's laptops. They both had encrypted files on their machines that we couldn't crack. Our guys couldn't do it and the FBI guys couldn't either. Hell, they sent it over to the military, boys and they were scratching their heads too. It's some kind of new algorithm that nobody's seen before. Either that or the files are just plain scrambled garbage to keep us busy for a while."

 "That's strange. You ask those programmers about it?"

"Sure. They didn't know a thing."

"Aside from that, it sounds like you have this wrapped up then, huh?"

"Yep. I'm not sure about the FBI, but I'm pretty satisfied we've found everything there is to find."

Bob leaned back in his chair, smiling. "That's great, Eric. Thanks for getting this done so quickly. Hopefully, we can move on with the project now."

"Well, like I said unless the FBI wants to keep digging."

 "If there's nothing else to find, they won't keep going for too much longer. Besides, now that our part is sewn up, I can put some heat on over there to get them off our backs."

Peterson grinned. "That's more your arena, Bob."

 "I suppose it is." Bob stood and extended his hand to the agent. "Thanks again Eric, and I can't wait to see the final report."

*****

John awoke with the sting of smoke in his nose from the dying fire. He was in the position he'd become accustomed to these many mornings: on his side with Jane's body crunched next to his and her arm wrapped around him. Even though the sun hadn't risen, the sky was aglow with the early morning light, and the sound of chirping birds filled the air as the young nestlings made their breakfast hunger known.

When John stirred, Jane's body tightened in response, her hand digging into his chest. Her fingers relaxed once she became conscious, discovering it was his movements that had awakened her. When John sat up, he scanned the area for Tarzan, his eyebrows drawing together. The native wasn't there. Where was he?

As the two ate their breakfast of the apples and purple berries, there was a faint rustling sound of someone approaching. Jane picked up the noise too and gazed at him. Both their ears were tuned to the natural sounds of the forest, and this wasn't one of them.

Grabbing his spear, John stood: feet apart, knees bent and spear held ready to thrust. He tensed his muscles, prepared to charge the oncoming threat. When Tarzan emerged from behind the trees, John slumped and brought the spear down. Jane shot from the ground and ran to the native, seeming relieved by his return. The two signed amongst themselves, John only able to pick out bits and pieces at the speed they were conversing. When Tarzan flashed the sign about other men, John interrupted and asked him to slow down.

After Tarzan had stormed off the previous day, he came across a hunting party from their old tribe, forcing him to circle around them. As he attempted to do so, he realized he'd gotten into the middle of the party and spent hours trying to avoid them. By the time he was able to clear himself from their web, darkness was falling so he spent the night in a tree nest like John had built. At morning's first light, Tarzan started back to their camp.

The three of them needed to get away from the hunting party. Not only were they a threat to Tarzan and Jane, but they could also see John as an enemy and go after him too. John signed, " _We move camp away hunters._ "

Tarzan agreed and pointed to the other side of the stream, deeper into the forest. They collected their tools and remaining food and started upstream in search of a shallower crossing point. They'd only been moving for several minutes when Tarzan froze in his tracks.

" _What?_ " John signed in question.

" _One hunter there_ ," Tarzan motioned.

There was a man drinking water by the edge of the stream. Then another walked from behind a tree and stood next to the first. Tarzan tugged John around a tree for cover. While the hunters hadn't been looking in their direction, they'd see John and Tarzan if they did.

Tarzan pointed in the direction they'd come. They moved back downstream but stopped again when John spotted another hunter. Luck wasn't with them this time because the hunter saw them. He let out a screech as a warning call, and soon other men of the tribe began to assemble.

At this point, their only option was to fight. John dropped his pack and pulled out his bow. It wasn't finished yet, but it was all he had. He fastened the sinew bowstring he'd made to one end then hooked it to the other. He'd strung the bow the day before as a test but hadn't fired it. He'd do so now if forced, but he'd have to be very conservative on his pull. Given his previous efforts, the untested weapon could break before making a single shot. While he nocked an arrow, someone shouted from downstream.

"What do you know? It's John Fuller."

John snapped his head up to look, but then he froze. There stood McAndrews, a twisted smile on his face.

"We've been looking for you," called the agent.

He was fifty yards away, stone-tipped spear in hand. Damn it! He wasn't dead after all. Rather than killing him, the hunting party must have welcomed him as one of their own.

John said in a shaky voice, "Me? Why have you been looking for me?"

McAndrews walked closer, flanked by several of the tribesmen. "I have a score to settle. After all, I have you to thank for deserting me in this godforsaken, Stone Age, shit hole, don't I?"

The bow quivered in John's shaky hands. "No. You have it backward. It's your fault we're here. You're the one who made me set the machine, and you're the one who was going to kill me with it. I was only trying to defend myself."

"Trying to save your worthless life, were you? Well, all you did was delay the inevitable. Did you think I'd forget about you? Well, I haven't. I was able to convince the chief to give me some of his men to hunt you down."

John brought up his bow and pulled back the string. The firm feel in his hand made him stand straight and smile. The damned thing wasn't making cracking noises like all the others had. He actually had a usable bow this time!

With more confidence now, John said in a firm voice, "I wouldn't come any closer."

McAndrews only paused a second before continuing his advance. "You may be able to get me and a few others with that toy bow and arrow set, but I have more than a dozen men closing in on you."

John looked around. McAndrews wasn't bluffing. Hunters were advancing on all sides. The bow quivered in his hands. No, not anymore! He wasn't the old John Fuller that was crippled by fear. If he was going to die anyway, he'd stand tall and take McAndrews and as many of the others with him.

He pulled back more on the bow and steadied his aim. The agent in his sights, he let go the string with a thrum, and the arrow zipped away, arcing as it moved through the air.

The man to the right of McAndrews let out a terrifying scream as the arrow buried itself in his stomach. All but McAndrews froze at this strange and magical weapon that could throw a small spear with such force. None would advance any farther, and some even backed off.

"Get moving, you cowards!" yelled McAndrews. His words were futile though. First, they didn't understand a word he said, and second, even if they did, there was no way they'd listen after seeing the frightful demonstration. What John had done was magic to them, and this meant he was a powerful man—maybe even a god. Either way, he was someone to be feared.

John nocked a second arrow as the agent grabbed the man next to him and tried to shove him forward. The hunter grunted and broke free, running away from John and his terrifying weapon. McAndrews' face grew red as he thrashed his hands through the air in sign language. He was too distant for John to interpret, but he didn't wait to see if the agent could rally his troops. Instead, he pulled back on the bowstring again, this time farther. Still no cracking wood! He aimed to the left of where he did before and let loose another arrow to the thrum of the bowstring.

This time he struck a man to the left of McAndrews. The arrow sliced through the man's arm, the stone tip protruding from behind. It seemed the bow had plenty of power but no accuracy. He hadn't gotten a chance to perfect the weapon, but at this point, it didn't seem to matter. It was holding the natives at bay through fear alone.

"Son of a bitch!" McAndrews screamed, spinning towards the yelping man.

Tarzan patted John on the back and signed to him, " _Strong weapon._ "

Tarzan's grin was big, but John didn't have time for the native's compliments. As he nocked another arrow, McAndrews made his move. The agent charged towards him, spear at waist level. John pulled back his bowstring and waited for the agent to get closer. He wouldn't miss his mark this time. If he did, the agent would run him through.

Although the distance was closing fast and every fiber within him said to shoot, he waited. John's skin crawled as sweat rolled from it, his arm quivering from the tension of the bowstring. The ferocious agent was even closer now, his reddened eyes and gnashing teeth plain to see. Shoot! No! Wait! Wait! When the berserk agent was mere feet away, John let loose. The arrow drilled into McAndrews' shoulder, piercing higher than John had wanted. Although the agent's pain was evident, momentum, anger and sheer hatred of John seemed to drive him onward. He kept charging!

John regained his senses in time to dodge aside as McAndrews tried to sink the spear into his heart. Its razor tip glanced past, but the agent's body rammed into John, driving the arrow farther into McAndrews then snapping it off. The tip of the spear dug into the ground, the shaft buckling in its center as the weight of both men continued driving it downward. They tumbled to the ground, but McAndrews landed on top, knocking the wind out of John.

Both were dazed, John gasping for breath and McAndrews clutching his shoulder from the searing pain of the arrow. After several seconds of recovery, the fight continued, with McAndrews the first to regain his senses. He got on his knees and pounded John in the face with his left fist, his right arm dangling to one side, disabled by the arrow.

John threw a punch at the agent's bloody shoulder. The man howled in pain and relinquished his attack. He shoved McAndrews off and tried to stand. Before he could get to his feet though, the agent spun around and grabbed John by the legs, tripping him, so his forehead slammed on a rock. Stars sparked before his eyes and he almost blacked out, memories of the blows to that same spot months before flooding back to him.

McAndrews flipped John over and throttled him with his single good hand. John grappled at the man's arm and became lightheaded, his stomach twisting. Was he passing out from the lack of oxygen? No, the two of them were shifting!

The starfield before John's eyes constricted in an ever-tightening circle. When he was looking down a long, sparkling tunnel with the pained face of McAndrews at its end, he began to hear Jane's grunting cries. She wailed his name, "Ohn, ohn!" as he faded from her existence forever.

*****

The thick fog in John's mind lifted, but his body still seemed plastered to the ground. As he moved, the pain in his forehead renewed. It worsened when he opened his eyes to the orange glow of a timber ceiling. A rhythmic pounding in his ears synchronized to the thump of his heartbeat but soon dissolved into the resounding ring of metal striking metal, no longer in time with his pulse.

The pinging strikes stopped, and rasping breaths from some unknown beast replaced them. John ignored the sharp throbbing in his skull and spun over onto his hands and knees. The jagged points of the coal pile he rolled onto dug in, pinching flesh to the bone.

As adrenaline snapped him to full awareness, he looked around. He was between a mound of black coal and the gray, timeworn wall of a timber building. Being in no imminent danger, he took several deep breaths, and his pulse slowed.

When the strange rasping breaths stopped and the metallic strikes renewed, John crawled to the edge of the coal pile and peered around to see what was causing the sound. From the light streaming through the open double doorway, he caught sight of a large, muscular man swinging a thick cross peen hammer high. He slammed it down on a glowing bar of metal splayed out on a massive steel anvil. Although John had never been in one before, it was evident that he was in a blacksmith's workshop in some bygone era.

After several more strikes of the hammer, the blacksmith lifted the cherry red ingot he was shaping and brought it to his forge, placing it amongst the fiery yellow coals. The wheezing of the bellows started again when he pumped its handle, its strong breath bringing the fire to a blazing white heat.

The blacksmith's back towards him, John rose as quick as his aching head would allow and rushed towards the large doorway at the front of the building. He was halfway there when a figure appeared in its opening. He was about to turn and hurry back to the hiding place when he froze. It was McAndrews.

It took several seconds for the other man's eyes to adjust to the dimmer interior. When they did, he looked around the shop and saw John. His eyes narrowed as he yelled out, "Fuller!"

McAndrews charged him. His right arm hung at his side, the gash from the arrow still bleeding. John hunkered down low as the agent came at him. When the two impacted, McAndrews almost spun over John's shoulder and brought them both crashing to the ground.

John disentangled himself from the other's legs and twisted around, ready to defend himself against a renewed attack. The voice of the blacksmith boomed out, evidently not pleased with them for fighting in his workshop. What he was saying or even what language he was saying it in was a mystery.

Still dazed from the tumble, McAndrews was just recovering when John sprang on him. He kneeled on the agent's good arm and continuously pummeled him in the face. Finally, he had the bastard where he wanted him! But then from nowhere a hard blow struck the side of John's head, sending him reeling several feet. It was a few seconds before he regained his senses somewhat and looked over. The blacksmith, in an attempt to break up the fight, had let loose a mighty fist on John.

As he lay in a daze, the blacksmith stood over him yelling in the strange tongue. Ignoring the verbal abuse, John sat up and looked over at McAndrews. The arrow wound and beating were taking its toll, but the agent staggered to his feet anyway.

John felt a kick in his leg and looked back at the blacksmith. Although not hard, the blow was enough to get John's attention. The blacksmith was yelling and pointing towards the door, ordering him to leave. Now it was John's turn to rise drunkenly, his vision blurring from the blacksmith's blow. When on his feet, he sidestepped towards the door, his eyes fixed on the blacksmith. Hopefully, he wouldn't throw another punch. With the massive man between himself and McAndrews, the agent was blocked from his view until the last second.

"Look out!" John cried, pointing to McAndrews behind the man. The hammer slammed into the side of the blacksmith's head with an audible thud. As the giant man crumpled to his knees and fell over sideways, McAndrews almost dropped the hammer from the recoil of the impact. He stumbled sideways but remained standing and started towards John.

McAndrews was slow to advance, but John was in no better condition and couldn't outrun him. Instead, he thrashed his eyes around the room. He needed a weapon. There was a four-foot steel bar several steps away. He was almost unable to lift the heavy bar, but he pulled it towards his body with all his remaining strength. He spun around. McAndrews was inching closer, his feet dragging as he lurched onward. The bar was too heavy, so John couldn't swing it. Instead, he hoisted it up with all his strength and thrust it towards the agent's chest.

McAndrews swung his hammer up to deflect the blow. The clang of metal rang out as the weapons impacted, dampening as it sank into McAndrews' throat. The agent's parry had caused the impact point of the bar to shift upwards. His hand snapped open, dropping the hammer. He staggered back then thudded to his knees, the bar pulling from his throat.

A gurgling came from McAndrews' crushed throat, his left hand slapping over the gouge. John backed away from him, his stomach turning when blood bubbled through the injured agent's splayed-out fingers. Not only had the bar's impact done its damage but its corner had penetrated the agent's neck and nicked his jugular vein.

John looked into McAndrews' panic-stricken eyes, the knowledge of his own impending death showing. Although he wasn't the first man John had killed, this was by far the worst. Even though he was justified in protecting himself, and McAndrews deserved what he'd gotten, the spectacle before him was sickening. Wooziness overcame John. His legs buckled underneath him, his eyes still glued to the suffering agent as his knees thudded to the ground. McAndrews pulled his hand from the wound and blood sprayed out from the exhaled breath blowing through it. He stretched his hand in a plea for John's help, but as he did so, his eyes fluttered. He fell forward, the loss of blood overcoming him.

The bite of acid rose in John's throat, and he threw up the remnants of berries and stomach bile in great heaves. The whole room started to spin, the pool of vomit below him blurring. Another shift was starting. As John fell sideways and consciousness slipped away, he wondered if this continuous shifting would ever end.

## CHAPTER 15

John awoke in a fit of coughing. As he lay on his back in the thick mire of a mud puddle, he'd inhaled a river of the rainwater beating down on his face. Once the fit subsided, he sat up and looked around. The fog of rain and darkness surrounding him obscured everything.

As lightning flashed, Sue's house emerged through the gloom. He was in her driveway again. Consumed with fatigue, he stood after several slippery attempts and forced his weary body towards the house. When he reached the porch steps, he stumbled up them and then to the door. Opening the screen, he tried to turn the doorknob, but it was locked. He pushed the doorbell with his leaden finger. Almost falling over, John leaned against the doorframe, water tickling his nose as it rolled from his drenched hair. The porch light snapped on, but the warmth of its glow was lost in the icy squall.

The door opened to the most welcome sight he could ever hope for. "Sue!" he cried. "I can't tell you how glad . . ." He broke off his words when two things struck him. First, she acted like she didn't know him. Second, her hair and makeup were different from any way he'd ever seen her wear them.

"I'm sorry, do we know each other?" Sue asked.

This wasn't _his_ Sue's universe, but another. Was he back in his universe? Had he lost his Sue forever? There was one way to find out.

"I'm sorry, it's been quite a few years, and I'm sure you don't remember me. We went to Lincoln High School together. You were a freshman when I was a senior."

The puzzled look left Sue's face. "Oh, okay. I'm sorry I don't remember you."

"There's no reason you should. It surprised me when you answered the door."

She looked him up and down. "You look like you're hurt. Are you all right?"

"Not really. That's why I'm here. I ran my car into a ditch just up the road. My cell phone is dead, and I was wondering if I could use your phone."

"Oh, you poor thing. No wonder you're all banged up. Yeah, come in," she said, opening the door wide.

John hobbled in. "I'm a mess. I don't want to track mud all over your house."

"That's very considerate of you. I can get my cordless from the kitchen if you want to wait here?"

"That's fine, thank you."

Sue rushed back with the phone. "Here you go."

"Thanks," he said, taking it from her. "I'm going to call home first, but do you have a phone book? I'll need to call a tow truck."

"Sure, I'll get it," she said, going to the living room.

As John punched in his home phone number, Sue began talking to someone in the living room, but the conversation was too muted. After taking a step closer, the ringing in his ear stopped, and a voice bellowed, "Hello?"

"Hi, Rita. It's John."

"John, where the hell are you? How long does it take you to go to the damn store?"

Rita's heated voice blaring from the receiver confirmed that he was back in his universe. He squeezed his eyes shut, a coldness inside making him shudder. With all he'd been through, it was a long shot he'd ever get back to his universe again, but here he was. He slumped his head. This was worse than during his weeks in the forest. At least then there was some hope of returning to his Sue, but now it was a certainty he'd never see her again. He was back in his universe for good. He was sure of it.

"John! Are you there?" Rita's overbearing voice blared.

He jerked his head up and straightened, answering in a subdued voice. "I had some problems getting to the store, and my car's in a ditch."

"A ditch! What do you mean a ditch?" The timbre of her voice rose. "There's no ditches between here and the store."

"I know that, but I drove past my turn and got lost," he said, his voice losing its composure.

"Got lost? How the hell can you get lost going to a store you've been to a million times? Sometimes I swear you have shit for brains!"

John's face reddened as though the pressure of blood surging into it were being pumped twice as hard. He'd taken this type of abuse from Rita for years. No more! He wasn't the same person he'd been and wouldn't stand for such disrespect. He'd yell right back and put her in her place! He opened his mouth but snapped it back shut when Sue walked around the corner with the phone book. The smile on her face made his whole body tingle. Although this wasn't the Sue he loved, she was close enough that he'd have to love her too.

His muscles burned from the phone tightly clasped in his hand, snapping him back to the conversation with Rita. Why was he going to bother yelling at her anyway? What did he care what she said about him? Did she even matter to him anymore? No. In fact, Rita's opinion of him and the world, in general, was actually pretty ridiculous. He began to laugh.

"Damn it, John! What the hell are you laughing like a jackass for?" Rita yelled at him.

He snorted, "You know something, Rita? You don't mean anything to me anymore." He hung up the phone and laughed that much harder.

As Sue stopped next to him, she said, "I'm glad to see you can still laugh with all that's happened to you tonight."

"I suppose, ooh . . ." The room began to wobble. The effort of laughing had only added to his exhaustion. As the smile left his face, he put his hand on the wall and steadied himself. "I'm afraid I'm a little dizzy."

A towering man appeared in the living room doorway and said, "Why don't you come and sit down for a while? Sue told me you wrecked your car, and you don't look too good young man."

John's eyes widened, almost to the point of pain, as he drew in a huge breath. It couldn't be! But it was! "Dr. Manders!"

The elder man's eyebrow rose. "I'm afraid you have the better of me. Have we met before?"

"No, sir, we haven't, but it's an honor," John jerked out his hand, and the physicist shook it with authority.

"I don't know how much of an honor it can be to meet me," he chuckled, "but it's a pleasure to meet you . . . I'm sorry I didn't catch your name."

"John Fuller, sir."

"Drop the 'sir' nonsense, John." He smiled. "My friends call me 'Manny.' Why don't you come in the living room and have a seat? I can't have you keeling over in my front hall, you know."

"Okay. I better take my shoes off though." He leaned against the wall and started to remove them.

"Sue, why don't you get our guest one of the side chairs from the dining room to sit in? You can throw my blanket over it so it doesn't get all muddy."

"Sure, Dad," Sue replied, rushing past him.

John finished removing his shoes and followed. He waited for Sue to get the chair then plopped into it, finally able to take the strain off his tired legs.

As John looked around the room, the house was so familiar. Although in another universe now, this still felt like the place that had become his home. The living room was exactly as he remembered it: every picture on the wall and every piece of furniture in its place.

The dining room was a copy of the one he and Sue sat in when they'd gotten back from the lab and spent the rest of the night compiling the quantum shifter data. Turning to the chair where Manny now sat, he pictured Sue there, as she was so often, reading one of her science fiction novels. Everything seemed as it should, but it wasn't. His life here had ended and was lost to him forever, just like his Sue.

"Would you like a cup of hot tea, John? I was just heating up the water," Sue asked.

"A cup of your vanilla chai would be great," he replied, yet one more reminder almost bringing a tear to his eye.

Her eyebrows knitted together. "As a matter of fact, I do have vanilla chai. I just bought it today to try out. How did you know?"

John flinched. All he could do was give her a crooked smile and shrug his shoulders.

Sue continued to stare for a moment, but finally said, "Well, I'll get you a cup." She turned to her father. "You want one too, Dad?"

"Sure, that sounds good, sweetheart." Reaching over from his chair, he gave her hand a quick squeeze and smiled.

As Sue left the room, Manny asked, "So do you live in the city, John?"

"Yes, sir, I do. On the north side by Maple and 23rd."

"Like I said, son, just call me 'Manny.' That's a nice area over there. One of the guys I work with lives around there. Ryan Daniels. You know him?"

"No, sir, I mean Manny, I don't."

Sue had talked about her father so much and with such veneration that it was difficult not to show him the utmost respect. However, there was an acceptance to his manner, the way he smiled and his gentle voice, that also put John at ease. He could see where Sue got her personality from because she always put him at ease too.

Manny's brow furrowed. "John, I know you said we never met, but you seem to know me or have heard about me at least. Do we maybe have a mutual acquaintance?"

John tensed at the question. "Um, in a way," he replied. His mind raced to come up with an explanation. "I've heard about some of your work."

"Oh, I see," he said, nodding. "What line of work are you in then?"

"I'm a computer programmer."

"Ahhh, computers," Manny chuckled. "Those wonderfully frustrating devices. I have a real love-hate relationship with them you know. I love what they can do, but they seem to hate me for some reason."

John laughed. "I know what you mean. I feel the same way sometimes."

"So how is it that a computer programmer would be familiar with my work? Is physics a hobby of yours?"

"Uhhh . . ." was all that John could manage.

Thankfully, Sue chose that moment to walk back into the room with the tea. "Here's the chai," she said, handing one of the cups to John.

"Thank you, Sue."

"You're welcome, John. Dad?" she said, handing the second cup to her father. When he took it, she sat on the couch.

Manny brought the mug to his lips and blew across the hot liquid. He took a careful sip then said, "Sue, John was just telling me how he knows me." He turned to John and asked again, "So is physics a hobby of yours then?"

"Dad, I heard you trying to grill John from the kitchen." She turned to John. "Just ignore him. He's usually very nice, but when he gets in a mood, he can be impossible."

"Well, I'm just curious about how he knows of me. When a man becomes famous, he likes to know for what."

"Don't you mean 'infamous,' Dad? I'm sure you're known for your renowned interrogation practices." She looked back at John. "Careful, John. He'll be going to the basement any second now to get his rubber hose."

Manny laughed. "Okay, Sue. I get your point. I'm sorry, John, I didn't mean to come off like the Gestapo."

When his laughter subsided, John relaxed into the chair. He took a sip of the warm chai and considered Dr. Manders' line of questioning. If he told them that he knew of them through a parallel universe Sue, would they believe it? If anyone in the world would, it would have to be them.

The smile left his face. Sue's father wasn't dead in this universe. Was it possible the timeline here was progressing at a different rate than in the universe where he'd been? Any day now, would Phil electrocute the scientist? Alternatively, would events here be different and Manny live? After all, there'd been no parallel John Fuller in the other universe, so things were definitely different. Could he take a chance with Manny's life though?

He glanced at Sue, the joyful twinkle still in her eye and the smirk still on her lips from her sarcastic remark. Would the greatest anguish of her life replace the delight she felt now being in the presence of the father she worshiped? Could the agony be prevented? It was within his power to do so. A simple warning from him would spare this young woman, who was the twin of the Sue he loved. The compulsion was too great to withstand. He had to warn them.

He swallowed hard. "No, Dr. Manders, you're right in questioning how I'd know of you. There's no logical reason why I would've ever heard of you. There is, however, a very good reason, which I'll explain to you now. Even at the expense of making you think I'm crazy."

*****

When John fell silent, he gauged their reactions. Sue stared at him with a blank expression. When he turned to her father, the physicist said, "Young man, that's the most fantastic story I've ever heard. Tell me why I should believe it."

"Dr. Manders, I don't know if I expect you to believe me. If I'd heard something like it a few months ago, I know I wouldn't have. All I ask is that you consider what I've said and to use it as a warning if things like I've described should start to happen."

"I see," said Manny, his brow rising.

"Sue, I know you must think I'm a raving maniac at this point, but I'm saying all of this for you. There's a version of you somewhere, in a universe I'll never get back to, that I love more than I ever thought possible. If there's any way I can keep you from going through what she has, I'm going to try my damnedest to do it, no matter what."

By the look in those most perfect eyes, his words had affected her. How though? Before she could respond, the doorbell rang. Sue didn't react but continued to gaze into John's eyes, as though trying to read the truth there. The chime rang again.

"Sue?" said Manny.

She responded absently, "I'll get it," her meditation breaking as she glanced at her father. She rose and went to the door.

John said nothing, taking a deep breath. Even though he'd been sitting, he felt more worn out now than when he'd come in. Now what? Even though he'd felt compelled to warn them of the possible danger, he'd lost them. They thought he was crazy and would want nothing more to do with him.

John shook his head, feeling empty inside. When he first shifted, he wanted nothing more than to return to this universe. But now that his original wish was fulfilled, he wanted nothing more than to leave again. He'd never be able to go back to Rita and her constant abuse, nor could he go back to the job he'd used as an escape. He no longer wanted that life and despised the man who'd lived it. His jaw tightened. How could he have been so stupid? These two were his only link to the woman he loved, and now he'd spoiled his chances of keeping even that last connection alive.

Off in the distance, Sue's voice was faint as she answered the door. "Hello."

"Hi, I'm looking for John Fuller. Is he here?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, he is. Come in."

John grimaced as he stood, gazing towards the front hall. Who would look for him here? When a woman walked into the living room, his vision blurred and his knees weakened, nearly dropping him back into the chair. It was Jen! Her sight struck him as hard as any punch he'd endured.

"Jen? My God!" Unable to contain himself, he ran to her, almost falling.

"Oh, John! I thought we'd never find you," cried Jen as she hugged him.

John could barely breathe, her embrace was so powerful. Air was only secondary though as the love he felt from her was more important. He grappled her tight and tears began to flow from his eyes. Complete exhaustion having overtaken him, he was powerless to hold them back.

"Oh, Jen, even if I have to be stuck here, at least I'll have you with me," he cried out.

Jen released him. "You're not stuck here. We've made arrangements to bring you back."

"Bring me back . . . to Sue?" John said in a daze, his knees buckling. Jen supported his weight and kept him from falling.

"Quick. Sit him in the chair," said Manny.

Jen did so and kneeled down beside him. When she turned to look at who'd spoken, she shot off the floor, her eyes bulging. "Dr. Manders! John, that's Dr. Manders!"

"Yeah, I know."

Manny shook his head as he looked at Sue. "Everyone seems to know me." He looked back at Jen. "And who are you, young lady?"

Before she could respond, John said, "Dr. Manders, this is Jen. She's the robot from the parallel universe I was telling you about."

"What?" He began to shake his head. "Hell, son, now I know you're crazy. That's a woman if I _ever_ saw one."

"No, sir. Now I can prove I was telling you the truth," declared John, feeling some of his strength return. "Jen, show him your battery compartment."

She did as requested and pulled up her top. Manny's eyes widened when he caught sight of her breasts. "Damn it, girl! What the hell are you do . . . ing?"

His voice broke off when Jen exposed her electronics. Manny froze, but Sue leaped forward, her eyes bursting. "What the . . ." She examined Jen then turned to her father. "Dad, I knew it! He's telling the truth."

John exclaimed, "You mean you believed me?"

An odd look came over Sue's face. "Yeah, I did. You know too much about my dad, the project and me to be lying. Besides, there's something about you that made me trust you."

Manny dropped back in his chair. "I thought he was trying to trick us to get information. He knew a lot about the shifting project and us, but I figured it was some kind of trick. But this . . ." He pointed at Jen but could say no more.

Jen tore her eyes from Manny and kneeled down next to John. "Are you feeling better now, John?"

He put a hand on her shoulder. "Yeah. Now that you're here and I know I can get back to Sue. How is she, Jen? Has she been worried?"

"Yes, she has, but she's fine," Jen said, seeming distracted. She looked at Dr. Manders for a second then back to John. She said in a quiet voice, "Actually, Sue's outside, and I'd like to give her a present after all she's been through . . ."

*****

Sue paced back and forth along the front porch, the downpour slowing to a gentle patter. There was a tranquil thrumming as the drops hit the roof and the occasional soothing rumble when far-off lightning glimmered in the sky. She glanced at the flashing sky and then at one of the wicker chairs. She shook her head and jerked around, continuing to pace across the porch.

"Who am I kidding? It's not the damn lightning making me nervous."

She flopped in the rattan seat. She just couldn't get her mind off of John. It had been eight and a half months since he'd disappeared, and now her fate rested on all the measurements they made and the calculations they performed.

Sue and Jen had run so many calculations, each time inserting more variables in to get a better overall picture of the outcome of John's shift. As much time as she thought the first iterations had taken the library computer to crunch, the last two attempts had taken a month each to complete. Each time, Sue wanted to give up, but Jen talked her out of it, always encouraging her to expand on the equations.

Sue stood and started to pace across the porch again. Jen was taking so long in there. It must mean the worst. If he were here, the two of them would've already emerged. Her stomach turned as a soft breeze of rain-sweetened air caressed the curls of her hair.

Sue went over the two possibilities for John that she and Jen had concluded. The first alternative was Bechler and his team's opinion: the matter in John's body would never stabilize, and he'd shift forever from universe to universe. Time would have no meaning for him, and he'd go in and out of one reality and then to the next, circling without end until the last of all the infinite universes ceased to exist. The second alternative was that his matter would stabilize, and he'd end up back in his own universe. There was no way to tell when or where in his universe this would be though. He could appear in the vacuum of space light years from Earth and billions of years in the past or future. Wherever and whenever it was, he'd stay there, the matter being stable in his own universe.

Using Bechler's scan of John, they'd been able to determine his universe of origin. Jen theorized the most likely place he'd return to would be the time and location where he left it. Sue used her memory of when he first appeared on her doorstep so many months before to pinpoint the time. As for location, it would be in the driveway of her parallel house. It had only been within the last hour that Jen returned from the library with the parameters to set the quantum shifter to bring the two of them here.

As Sue reached the far end of the porch, there was a creak from the front door opening. She knelt behind a wicker chair. It may be this universe's version of Sue coming out, and she didn't want to shock the poor woman. That was why Jen had gone in the house alone.

When only Jen came out the door, Sue let out a sigh and stood. The screen door shut and the sight slammed Sue like a hammer against her heart. John wasn't with Jen. He wasn't here!

"Oh my God, Jen, now we'll never find him!" Sue cried, tears rolling down her cheeks.

She thudded into one of the wicker chairs, berating herself for holding on to false hope for so long. She'd been fooling herself for months, believing the fantasy that they could ever possibly find him. Bechler had told her from the beginning that John would shift forever, but she'd refused to accept it. Now she'd have to.

Jen ran to her. "No, Sue, No! He's here. He's inside." She knelt beside Sue and put a hand on her shoulder. "He's here inside, and he's all right!"

"He is?" Sue exclaimed. "He's here? He's all right?"

"Yes, he's fine. He's a little beaten up and tired out, but he's okay otherwise."

She grabbed Jen and hugged her. "Oh, Jen, we did it! We found him!"

The tears started again, this time her heart lifting. The months they'd labored had been worth it after all. She pulled away and gazed into Jen's eyes. "There's no way I could've found him without you. Thank you."

"I can say the same thing. If you'd given up, I wouldn't have been able to add to the equations on my own."

"I know, but it was your encouragement that kept me going, Jen. Thanks." Sue wiped her eyes and looked towards the door. "By the way, why didn't he come out with you? You said he's okay. He can walk, can't he?"

"Oh sure. He's all right, but he wanted you to come inside. That's why I came out to get you."

"I don't know, Jen. I'm not sure that's a good idea. I don't want to upset the other me from this universe."

"No, it's okay," Jen said. "He's already told her about us. I had to open my battery compartment to prove everything!"

"Are you sure?"

"I'm positive." Jen nodded and slipped Sue's hand into her own. "Come in." She helped Sue from the chair and led her to the door.

When Sue entered, the house was exactly like her own. In fact, if she hadn't seen that the barn was different when they shifted here, she couldn't be sure this wasn't her own home. When she rounded the corner into the living room, the mirror image of herself was standing beside the chair she usually sat in. Even though the other woman wore her hair and makeup differently, it was still Sue Manders.

The other Sue shook her head. "This is _so strange_. Now I know you're telling me the truth."

As Sue continued around the corner, she saw the person she'd been waiting for.

"John!" she yelled as she ran to him.

John stood but almost fell over from the impact when she thrust herself at him. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed as hard as she could, not wanting to let go. If it were possible, she'd have wrapped her entire being around him and engulfed him in her love. Her life had been emptier than she could've ever imaged all these months. It would be a long time before she'd let him go anywhere without her.

"God I missed you so much, Sue," John said.

"I missed you too!" Sue cried, her tears flowing again. "I was afraid you wouldn't be here, and that I'd never see you again."

John kissed her, and a warmth spread throughout her entire body. When he tried to end the kiss, she wouldn't let him. She tightened her grip around his neck and pulled him back in. When breathless, she released him.

John wiped his eyes and grinned at her. "Jen and I have a surprise for you."

"What's that?" she asked, wiping her own eyes.

"Look over there," John said, pointing to where the other Sue stood.

"I've already seen the other Su . . ." Her words broke off when she caught the motion of someone leaning forward in the chair. Her eyes shot down, and her mind reeled from what she saw. Her head began to tingle, and the room seemed to darken but for the glowing vision she saw across the room.

"Daddy?"

Although the apparition seemed to float from the chair as it stood, it wasn't some wishful dream. It really was her father standing before her in the flesh.

"Daddy!"

As she ran to him, the memory of a time long since passed flashed in her mind. She was that little girl again who ran to him every night when he came home. Once more, he was the man she worshiped above all others, her whole life, her whole world. When she reached him, she threw her arms around him, half expecting he'd fade from existence and in his place would be emptiness. When he remained and she could feel the solid rock of a man he'd always been, she hugged him and cried out, "Daddy, you're really here!"

At first, the old scientist seemed unsure of what to do and stood there with his arms hanging at his sides. Then the look on his face softened when the realization seemed to strike that the young woman holding him, although from a different universe, was still his daughter. His arms enveloped her as he returned the loving embrace. When he laid his head onto to hers and began stroking her glistening, dark hair, he whispered to her, "Of course I am, sweetheart. I've been here the whole time."

*****

Jen exploded in laughter when the blowtorch shot into Moe's backside, flames blasting out between his open legs. She was in Sue's living room watching some old-time, short films at John's suggestion. He'd purchased them a few weeks ago after returning and said if she wanted to learn more about humor, she should start with the classic slapstick comedy teams. He assured her this was some of the funniest comedy ever created, and she had to agree. What she liked the most was that despite there being no audio of a laughing audience in the background, it was very apparent when something funny was happening. As the plumbing misadventures continued onscreen, she heard the doorbell ring.

Sue and John were on the back patio, and they wouldn't hear the chime. So, with reluctance, she paused the player and went to the door.

"Hi, Jen. How are you today?" Bob smiled at her from the porch.

"I'm fine, Director Humboldt. Come in. I'll get Sue for you."

"Actually, I'd like to talk with you for a few minutes before you do that." He motioned towards the porch chairs. "It's such a beautiful day, why don't we talk out here?"

Jen's eyes shifted towards the living room and then back to Bob. The comedy would have to wait for a while. She sighed. "Of course."

They sat in the rattan chairs facing the tree-lined yard, the flower-scented breeze caressing her face. She was in the seat at the southern end of the porch, which was in full sun. Although it could get quite hot this time of year, the feel of its pulsing rays on her skin made it tingle. Her eyes adjusted to the shadowed light by Bob as she turned to look at him when he spoke.

"Well, Jen, as you know, I've asked several times about getting access to some of the technology from your universe." Bob leaned forward in the chair and continued, "I know the first few times we talked about it, you were busy trying to get John back and didn't want to discuss it. But now I'm hoping you're ready."

She'd procrastinated long enough. Decisions like this were difficult and had never been part of her original programming. The solution was evident weeks ago and the time for hesitation was over. Dealing with emotions had become easier over the past year that her body had been reactivated, but this problem wasn't easy to deal with. She didn't want to hurt someone she'd grown to love and respect, but she'd delayed this moment too long. Besides, if she played it as planned, it should avoid much of the pain.

"Yes, Director, I think I can give you an answer," she said, sitting back and folding her arms, mirroring his. "I've decided to give you the information necessary to construct inter-universal power units such as the ones we use in my universe. However, I'll only do so with conditions."

Bob leaned forward, the smile having turned to a scowl. "Conditions, what would those be?"

"The shifting project you've been working on must be terminated and the quantum shifter disassembled. Further, you must not pursue this line of research or construct other machines in the future."

Bob's scowl deepened. "Why do you want that?"

"We've already seen the corruption of one universe occur, and I feel the danger of this happening again is too great as long as the quantum shifter at Gladstone exists."

"Come on, Jen, just because some dishonest individuals within my organization took advantage of the situation doesn't mean we should end the project. I can assure you, I've taken steps to make sure it doesn't happen again."

A suggestion of a smile crossed Jen's lips. "Director, you and I both know that much of what happened was only agents following orders."

Bob shifted in his chair. "What do you mean?"

"I've had access to your agency's computer network for some time now. I've also accessed your personal computer and McAndrews' and Baxter's computers when they were still with us. I know everything."

"What do you think you know?" he asked with a blank face.

"I know that when Sue discovered parallel Earths, you pushed to have a larger machine constructed. Once completed, you began a program of transporting agents to learn what the other universes contained. Since you knew that Sue and Dr. Manders would never go along with your exploitation of other universes, Phil assisted you without their knowledge.

"As the after-hours shifting increased, the electric usage increased. The cost became so high that you went over budget on the project. When you did this, the chairman of Gladstone Industries complained to you and threatened to shut down the whole project. You attempted to lobby Congress to increase your budget, but they threatened to cut it back. You'd promised them unlimited electric power for too long, and the only result they saw was more money spent. While you continued to lobby them, you decided you could raise money quicker by exploiting the other universes. This was never authorized by anyone but you, Director.

"The universe of the empire was the perfect discovery for you. In it, you found Placidia, someone who not only had the hunger for more power but the riches to back it up. Therefore, you sold him guns in return for gold. With the millions you transported back, you were able to buy the electricity you needed and bribe those necessary to keep things quiet.

"What you didn't know then, and still may not be aware of, is that Phil Baxter wanted to get his piece of the pie too, so to speak. He was selling them other weapons, namely hand grenades. You didn't trust Phil and knew something was going on but were never able to determine what. When Phil walked in on Dr. Manders and found out he was aware of the additional shifting, he murdered him and the agent from Vince's universe. He had to be sure they couldn't reveal anything about the extra shifts he was making for his own sales.

"After the murder of Dr. Manders, you brought McAndrews in to investigate Phil. At first, he was doing as you instructed. Once Phil showed him how much money was coming in from his unauthorized sales though, he decided to partner with Phil instead of reporting it back to you."

The muscles of Bob's jaw were tightening and relaxing. She continued, "When you discovered my universe, it was all you had hoped to find and more. It was a society that was not only more advanced but with no people there to stop you from taking the information that would give you power greater than you had ever imagined. All you had to do was break into the library computer and the treasure was yours. What you didn't count on, however, was that I could transport back and break into your computer systems to discover your deception. You also never considered the possibility that there might be other universes such as Vince's, which would detect what you were doing and investigate as well."

Bob was silent for a moment after she had finished but then said, "That's quite an accusation, but you don't have the evidence to prove any of it."

"Actually, Director, I do. I've downloaded to myself and the library computer all documents I was able to access from your computers. It's very definitive and damaging evidence I might add."

Bob's eyes narrowed as he leaned forward. "Any documents you have were illegally obtained. I could prosecute you for breaking into the DAP network."

 "Come now, Director. The last thing you want is to prosecute me and bring any of this into the open." She sat forward. "There's something else you should know, Director. I've given Vince and the government of his universe all the pertinent facts and evidence in this case as well. In fact, they suspected all along that you were part of the conspiracy. Once they made Dr. Manders aware of what was happening, he tried to dissuade them from believing you were involved. He was never able to sway Vince's people. However, they were able to get Dr. Manders to agree not to say anything about their investigation to anyone, including you."

Although Bob's face had only hinted at emotion up to this point, his jaw was now trembling as he ground his teeth together. She continued, "While they suspected your involvement, what wasn't known was if Congress and the President were authorizing these forays into alternate universes.

"And, if Vince's government isn't deterrent enough, I've encrypted all relevant files and communications between you, McAndrews and Baxter on their computers. If needed, I can provide your agency, and the FBI, with the encryption algorithm I used and the key to unlock the files.

"In addition to this, I've programmed the library computer to erase its data if I don't report to it weekly. So, if you have any ideas of my having an accident, you can forget about ever getting any technology from my universe."

"That won't happen," Bob said, shaking his head. "It was never my intent to harm anyone. The only reason I did all this was to find technology to help protect us from our enemies and to get us away from using fossil fuels." He continued, spitting out his words. "It's the damn politicians that have gotten us into this mess, and I knew if I told them everything, they'd find some excuse not to act. Those bastards are so afraid of their own shadows they're paralyzed. I had to do it myself to protect us."

"I suppose you believe that to some degree, Director, but I've studied human history and know better. There are many examples of men who sought personal power that justified their actions because it was for the betterment of their country, empire or humankind in general. Millions have died or been maimed in wars for such noble purposes. When looked at through the lens of objectivity with the passing of time though, it can be distilled down to the simple act of feeding a power-hungry individual or group."

"All right, Jen, all right. What is it you want from me?"

"As I said, I'd like the shifting project to be ended and all further research on it by your government ceased."

"All right. I'll do it, but it'll crush Sue you know. How will I explain all this to her?"

"That's simple. Since I'll be providing the technology to you, you'll tell her the government feels there's no more need for further research in this area and will stop the funding. Since we have a research lab in the barn with the equipment Vince shifted over, I'll convince her that she and I can continue the research there. Further, since I expect to receive a license fee for every inter-universal power unit produced, I'll provide whatever funding we need to continue."

Bob scowled again. "A license fee?"

"Yes, Director. I think the least I can expect from you and your government is a patent on the unit, which would allow me to license the technology."

"Yes, yes, very well. I'll make sure to get that pushed through for you," he said, seeming to resign himself to the fact that Jen held all the cards in this game.

"Since I'll be releasing other technology to you in the future, I expect to have a similar arrangement for other devices as well."

He blew out his breath. "All right. Anything else?"

"No, I think that covers everything for now."

Bob's face dropped as he stared at the floor of the porch. He asked in a low voice, "I have one question: does Sue know anything about what you just told me?"

"No, Director. I've told her none of this. I don't intend for her to ever know of your involvement."

Bob sank back in the chair and let out a deep breath. "Thank you."

"I'm not doing it for you. Sue's been hurt enough. And, despite the fact that it was your plan that got Dr. Manders killed, I know you didn't have anything to do with his murder directly. From what I've gathered, he and Sue are the closest thing to a family you have. While you may deceive them, I don't think you'd ever intentionally harm them. Beyond that, I don't want to put Sue through the pain of finding out your part in her father's death. You see, Director, she not only worshiped her father but does you as well."

His eyes moistened when he said, "Nobody ever gave a damn about me except Manny. I loved him like he was my brother, and Sue like she's my own daughter. I never meant to hurt either of them."

"No, but you were willing to put Sue in harm's way."

"If I'd known that Sue had a shifting machine here and was going to transport to the other universes, I would've stopped her," he pleaded.

"I don't mean that. I'm talking about you sending McAndrews here to kidnap Sue so you could get rid of him."

"I don't know what you mean," He sat back, folding his arms.

"Why won't you just be honest with me, Director? I know you sent McAndrews and crew here under the premise of eliminating all of us so you could come charging in and kill them. You knew you only had two options to cover yourself once Sue told you what she'd exposed. You could eliminate Sue, John and me so that you and McAndrews could continue shifting to my universe and hack into the library computer. Your second option was to eliminate McAndrews and company, pin everything on them and talk me into giving you the information.

"Since you were unwilling to kill Sue, you had to get rid of McAndrews. Once out of the way, it gave you the ability to pin all the blame for shifting the weapons on him and Phil." Bob was about to say something, but Jen cut in, "Before you deny this, Director, Vince found out you were involved the day of the raid on the barn. When Phil came back to the barn after going into the house to look for me, McAndrews said, and I quote, 'Where's the robot?'"

"How did McAndrews know I was a robot? Everybody who's ever seen me is convinced I'm human. The only people who knew my true nature were John, Sue and Vince. Once Sue came to see you, you knew as well. Since none of us told McAndrews, that leaves only you, Director."

Bob looked down. "I didn't want it to get as far as it did. We were supposed to get to McAndrews when he was still coming up to the house. I couldn't get the tactical team here fast enough." He looked at Jen and pleaded, "You have to believe me. I didn't want to cut it that close. How could I? Sue might have been hurt or killed."

Jen stared at him for a moment. "I believe you, Director. Like I said before, I don't think you'd harm Sue on purpose, but I also know you'll never risk her life like that again." Jen's eyes narrowed as she said in a low voice, "I _am_ like you in one respect, Director. John and Sue are the only family I have too, and I'll do whatever it takes to protect them."

## EPILOGUE

_One Year Later . . ._

"Sue! Your dad and Sue are here!" John called in through the screen door of the old farmhouse.

He looked back towards the path to the barn while Jen brought them to the house. She'd gone to his universe to bring them here for a visit. She'd been doing this every week now that Sue was pregnant.

When the three got close enough, he called to them, "Hey, how's it going?"

"Fine, John. Beautiful day here," Manny said as he ascended the porch steps.

"It was raining like crazy when we left," Sue said, helping her father up the stairway.

"I can still climb a few steps by myself. I'm not that old yet," Manny admonished her.

Sue looked at John and shook her head. "His arthritis was acting up this morning because of the rain."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Why don't you sit down for a minute?" John said, motioning to one of the wicker chairs. "It'll be a little while before lunch is ready anyway."

"Sounds good to me. I'll feel better once I sit in this dry air for a bit," said Manny, putting a hand on John's shoulder. "How are you and your bride doing, son?"

John smiled at the reference to Sue. Although she'd declared her love for him, it still surprised him at times that she'd cared enough to accept his marriage proposal, after his divorce from Rita of course.

"We're doing great," John said. "Sue's uncomfortable now that she's getting so big, but the doctor said everything's going well."

"You get that programming contract I sent your way?" asked Manny. He'd pulled some strings at the Gladstone Industries in his universe and got the opportunity for John to bid on a contract to write a computer program.

"Yeah, I did. Thanks for getting that for me."

"Hell, son, all I did was get you the chance to put in a bid. You did everything else yourself."

The screen door creaked open, and John ran over to help his Sue out.

"Stop it, John. I'm not that damn big that I can't take a few steps by myself you know," Sue admonished.

"I know, I know," responded John with a smile. "I just wanted to help carry the baby."

"I can carry it just fine," she said as the two walked over to the others. "I'm as strong as an elephant. I look like one too."

"Oh, Sue, you do not," said Manny. "You look beautiful, just like your mother did when she was carrying you."

"I second that, Sue," said Jen. "The hormonal changes from your pregnancy have altered your appearance in a positive manner."

The other Sue chimed in, "I don't want to sound conceited now, but I think you look beautiful too."

Sue snorted. "Yeah right. When you look like this, I'll lie to you too."

As they sat in the comfort of the wicker chairs and the flowery breeze drifted across the porch of the old family home, the conversation flowed with small talk of weather and the coming baby. Soon it turned, as it so often did, to that of the latest discoveries of Sue and Jen's research.

As John tuned out from the shoptalk, he squeezed Sue's hand. He felt the warmth of her love stream to him and reflected on his good fortune. After so many isolated years, he was finally among those who loved and respected him.

When it came time for lunch, they went into the house, John holding the door for the others and being the last to go through. But when he did cross the threshold of the home that he'd so long wished for, he entered it with a joy in his heart greater than any he'd ever known.

#### Did you enjoy this book? How about another one on me?

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## DEDICATION

I dedicate this book to my uncle, Joseph (Giuseppe) Lori. Although he died in 1926 at the age of sixteen, many years before my birth, I've been fortunate enough to bond with him, in some small way, through the few remaining words that he wrote during his far too short life. They've been a constant inspiration and reminder to me that while an old family portrait or a few written words are a mere shadow of the living man that was, they're at least something, even if precious little, to give future generations a sense of what we were and what we believed.

While he'll always live on in the presence of God, may he also now live on in the minds of men.

My Old Tin Lizzie

My old Tin Lizzie is really fun;

although she was born in 1901.

I'm willing to stake this little bet.

There's ten thousand miles in that baby yet.

The windshield's gone and the radiator leaks.

The fan belt slips and the rear end squeaks.

She shakes the nuts and screws all loose,

but I get twenty miles on a gallon of juice.

When I can't get gas I burn kerosene

and last night I drove home on some Paris greens.

There's a rattle in the front and a grind in the rear

and a Chinese puzzle for a steering gear.

Her coils are dead and her plugs won't fire

and her piston rings are tied with wire.

But in spite of this she can pull me through

and that's about all any car can do.

With high priced cars they give you tools,

some extra parts and a book of rules.

Some wire stretchers and a pair of shears

are all I've been carryin' for fifteen years.

And if I live to see the day,

when she falls apart like the "one-hoss shay"

I wouldn't put her down as being a treasure,

For the old tin can makes walking a pleasure.

But if "Old Band Ford" stays in the game,

I'll buy another by the same old name.

Giuseppe Lori

1909–1926

## ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

As any author can attest, all works they create are the sum of a lifetime of experience. Therefore, it's quite impossible to thank everyone who's touched my life and aided me in the ability to write this book. Given that, a few stand out and must be recognized for their contribution.

First, to my parents, Margot and Elmer Lori, I give the greatest thanks. Without them, neither this book nor I would exist. The gift of life, which any parents are capable of giving, was never their greatest contribution though. It was the love I always felt from them and their sense of undying faith in me that allowed me to believe I could accomplish whatever I set my mind to. For this, I'll always be indebted to them.

I'd also like to give thanks to my initial editor-in-chief, greatest critic, best friend and love of my life, my wife, Deborah Lori. I thank her for showing the same faith in me as my parents, even when I sometimes lack it in myself. She never pushes or nags but launches me onward nonetheless just through her unwavering knowledge that I can do it.

This book was half the book it is before working with John Robin as a writing coach. He provided great feedback on where to make additions to deepen the characters and strengthen the plot. I'm forever grateful that I was able to work with someone as talented as him to develop the book to its fullest potential.

I also thank Linda Bates for her line edit of the book. I'm still amazed when I read through the novel how much smoother the words flow and how much her streamlining increased the pacing.

I thank my daughter, Anna Eisenbraun, for her read-through of the manuscript. I'm grateful for her valuable feedback on improving the Paleolithic section of the novel.

Finally, my appreciation to Bill Boettcher for finding several errors during his read of the book. His encouraging words meant a great deal to me, and he's deeply missed by all who knew him.

## ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Richard Lori has immersed himself in technology since the age of twelve, first as a hobbyist in Amateur Radio and then with a career in computers and networking. He has worked in diverse industries including the computer service, telecommunications, urethane manufacturing and real estate industries. He has a Bachelor of Arts degree from Carthage College and has certifications in computer repair, networking and security.

Rich was born in Kenosha, Wisconsin, where he has remained a life-long resident. He is married to his wife, Debbie, and is "Pappaw" to five grandchildren. When he is not writing in his spare time, he is reading, gardening, woodworking or staying up to date with the latest technology podcasts. He is also a member of a non-profit group that is working towards the restoration of the historic Kenosha Theatre.

