Selnick came in on her five o’clock and hissed, “Keep up or be left behind, woman.”
Yeah, he joined the service from the past.
Another, bigger shock wave hit the perimeter, which was bad, but also good since it kept her from responding in a manner sure to be bad for her career. The tremors couldn’t reach into the Center, but they rocked against the edges, creating eddies in time within the shield. Being out of time wasn’t total protection, not when the threat intensified with each occurrence. No one seemed to notice but Ashe. They needed to act—
Patience.
Only when two of the Council members shifted restlessly did Carig finally nod to the Controller.
“Trackers.” The Controller paused. “Deploy.”
SIX
Black ops and geek battled for dominance as the shaking intensified. It was simple good manners to steady Emily. Good manners had never felt so excellent. Did she crowd in close as dust showered them from the old beams? Fyn was the only one not flattened against the wall, though he had positioned himself under a sturdy wooden beam. There was a blinding flash and when Robert’s vision cleared, there it was, a hissing mass of bug-like metal squatting in the center of the museum.
“That’s it,” Carey said, as if the question might be in doubt.
The Emerg—the EAD buzzed like an angry fly. He started to shut it off, but stopped. If it had summoned the machine, and evidence suggested it had, would shutting it off send it away again? Until he knew where it had been, until he could gain control, might be better to let it buzz.
Emily’s mouth opened, the shape right for an almost question, then closed. She wobbled once, giving him a chance to steady her before he turned to the device, using caution he had no problem admitting to himself. It appeared to be an annoyed bug at the moment. Other than the angry hissing, bigger and louder than the EAD, it was much as Carey had described it during the initial debriefing.
Somewhat oblong in shape and metallic in appearance, it looked like a mutation of a car and an upside down train, with a little rocket ship stirred in. An inverted fan of dark metal at the front could be rolled back to reveal a view port or window shield. The wheels resembled those on an old stagecoach, but were metal and black. The surface was also black and a bit dusty. It appeared to be made from sheets of metal fastened together with rivets. In addition to the wheels it had a series of fins along the side and front. The wheels were retracted, the bug-like legs weren’t. There would be a hatch on the other side.
He took another step toward it. Emily did too. She reached out as if afraid it was a mirage, and poked it with her finger.
“It’s real.”
“Yes.” He felt like the moment called for more, but didn’t know what that more might be.
The edges of her mouth curved up. One finger became five, and then both hands made white fans against the dark surface. She leaned in and hugged it. Robert felt a stab of jealousy that made his nanites snicker.
“I’m going to need a bigger museum.” The words came out on a delighted sigh.
He looked at Ric and Carey, and peripherally, Fyn. Carey shrugged. Ric looked away. As if she sensed the attempted plot against her right of ownership, Emily turned, her back against the machine now, her posture defensive and unafraid of facing four guys, all of them bigger than she was. Not that she was in danger from them, but she didn’t know that. The angle of her chin told him she didn’t care.
“It’s in my museum. It belongs to me.”
“She has a point,” Carey said, not helpfully. “Though you are going to have a tough time explaining how it got here.”
“I’ll think of something.” She turned back and hugged it again. It hissed steam, though whether it was a positive or negative response was unclear. Her hands swept up, started down. Stopped. She looked up. “Someone bent my bug.”
Robert studied the spot, then looked at Carey.
He shook his head, indicted the other side with the jerk of his chin.
Robert touched the surface now, surprised to find it warm. He’d expected hot, with the steam still venting from the rear of the machine. He spread his hand across the surface, processing the sensation of touching, feeling an impossible machine, his fingers sliding into the indentation. Despite the veracity of the witnesses he had not, until this moment, believed this thing was real. His nanites dived in, as curious as he was, deploying drones. The nanites had, on occasion, been able to seize control of various ships’ systems in the Garradian Universe, and the hope was that they could do the same with the transmogrification machine. His link with them was active and easy this close, but thanks to his mental ability to multitask, he could continue to process other data, and watch Emily. He didn’t mind admitting that he liked watching Emily more than processing data.
Her eyes widened. Her brows pulled together. Had she seen the brief flash of light that indicated nanite movement? Surely now she’d ask? Instead she stared. In some ways, it was more effective than a question. Did she do it on purpose? Her need to not ask warred with his need not to tell. She had more practice, but they had an audience that didn’t know about the nanites. That trumped her need to not ask, but still get answers. Or should have. He turned from the imperative he wasn’t sure he could resist and headed around the machine to the hatch.
Emily—and her imperative—followed. So did his team.
Robert studied the surface, looking for evidence that disputed Carey’s story about his original encounter with the bug. Instead he found the dent. Right where he said it would be. Size fit the bruise that almost took out Carey’s portal tracking device during his accidentally aborted test flight through the Garradian space-time portal.
Emily reached up and touched the dent, her hand too small to fill it, her brows drawn together, but no question passed her lips.
“There’s the way in,” Carey pointed out, again not necessary, though it did break up the uneasy silence a bit. A very small bit. That too was as described. Seven locks, six that looked and acted like combination locks. The seventh needed a key.
“You knew.” Emily looked at Robert, her expression stuck somewhere between two emotions.
He could make a reasonable guess which two.
“No.” It hadn’t even occurred to him the machine would come here. “I think the Emergency Ab—the EAD summoned it.” He felt sure she’d start asking questions now. It wasn’t natural, it wasn’t normal not to ask questions. Not that he knew that much about natural or normal. But he did know about questions. “I suspect it acts like a homing beacon for the machine.”
First reports from the nanites were troubling. They dealt in technology, primarily computer driven technology. This machine was from the 1890’s. No computers. Not their kind of technology, though they’d found much that made no sense to them. Not that he or they could think of anything that would make sense to them in a transmogrification machine from the 1890’s that had just traveled through time…again. Rather than engage in fruitless speculation, Robert asked,
can you find out what’s wrong with the transmogrification drive?
The what?
He ignored the mild attempt at sarcasm. Or perhaps humor. Hard to know when neither they nor he was good at it.
Look for something that doesn’t fit with basic steam engine design
, he suggested, though he wasn’t sure that would work. A lot could be not standard in a steam engine designed in the 1890’s by an eccentric genius.
Emily reached for one of the locks.
“Don’t—” Robert caught her hand. “There’s a sequence to opening them.”
“That only we, well, he knows,” Ric pointed out.
“And it will disappear again if we don’t get in there and stop it,” Carey tossed in.
Robert didn’t correct him, because he was no longer sure he, with or without the nanites, could get control in time to stop the drive from kicking on again if it were malfunctioning. His only hope was that the EAD would anchor it in this time and place.
Her lips formed a suspicious pout, her gaze shifting between Robert and Carey several times. What was she thinking? How could she not ask the obvious? Instead, she nodded and gave him a couple of inches of room to work in. The scent he’d thought was hers drifted around him, confirming his hypothesis. He lacked the necessary data to break down the notes into flowers or girl, but it was pleasing. He had to force himself to focus on the locks and shunt her scent to a side thought track. In this case it was a positive to be able to focus on more than one thing, so he enjoyed the girl smells while he studied the locks.
Twitchet had adapted each lock himself. All seven were different and required special handling. The order they were manipulated mattered, too. One had letters, two used numbers—natural and Roman—and the others used a variety of themed symbols. The sequence began with the hieroglyphics lock. Robert handed Emily the EAD. She gave it a doubtful look, shook it, held it up to her ear, then shrugged and tucked it in one of her many pockets.
Robert worked the first lock before moving to the second lock from the top. He wouldn’t know if he’d done it right until it opened. Or didn’t.
“No rush, Professor,” Ric said, looking over his shoulder like he expected to get jumped.
“I could shoot them,” Fyn offered.
Emily’s eyes narrowed when Robert shook his head. Four locks out of way. He did the last two, then extracted the key Olivia had entrusted to him with an understandable reluctance. She’d wanted to come with them, but no one else thought it was a good idea to have a woman from 1894 walking around 2011 Wyoming. The general didn’t like her walking around in the present on the Kikk Outpost. Carey liked her walking anywhere he was. He’d also resisted leaving her behind, but he had to follow orders.
The key was big, ornate and still smelled of the lavender Olivia had used prior to her leap into the future. He inserted it in the lock, inhaling sharply as it flared into an eerie green. It was a good sign that he’d done the locks right and when he turned it there was a grinding, then a whirring sounded through the metal. Slowly, with a predictable hiss of steam, a crack appeared in the metal side, quickly widened by his companions. A small ornate step folded down with the widening of the opening.
For forty-five point three seconds no one spoke.
“Don’t even try to stop me going in there.” Emily broke the silence with the warning.
Before Ric could object, Robert held out a hand, indicating she could go first. It was the polite thing to do. And there was no good reason she shouldn’t see the inside of the machine, now that she’d seen the outside. The secrecy boat had sailed and sunk. Robert jumped in after her, ignoring the steps. He felt a half second moment of surprise that he made the jump to the bug so easily—he hadn’t been this physically adept before the psychotic break—before mentally moving on. She’d stopped a few steps inside. He didn’t blame her. Even knowing what to expect hadn’t prepared him. Just shy of full body contact, Robert waited for her to ask. Focusing on waiting for her to ask helped keep his thoughts off touching. It didn’t stop him from smelling her scent or feeling the warmth of her body seep into his, despite the metal chill of the interior.
His team peered in, too, even Fyn showing actual signs of curiosity. Light edged in from outside, but it had some kind of internal lighting system, too, a glow that reminded him of the lights in Emily’s bowling alley.
“It looks like a crypt,” Ric said.
“That’s what I thought.” Carey leaned against the edge of the opening and pointed. “Try one of the levers.”
Robert wasn’t here to explore the machine’s Victorian parlor, so he ignored the suggestion and moved around Emily, on course for the cockpit—or whatever it was called. What stopped him was the look on Emily’s face. Her smiles were heart stopping, but that look of wonder? It was mind numbing. In-your-tracks-heart-stopping, mind numbing. He suspected her impact was also intensified by his lack of non-family female interaction in his past or present, but he didn’t actually care.
Emily reached for one lever and pulled. The action caused a breach in the wall that revealed itself as a small, antique table. She lowered it to the decking. On top of the table was a teapot and cups, fixed to a tray with clamps, but they appeared to be made of china. After a pause, possibly for shock, Emily tried them all, lowering wing back chairs, rolling out a rug, dropping a chandelier from the ceiling, and revealing a bed setup with an end table and an actual Tiffany lamp attached. Some of the levers she tried more than once, as if she didn’t quite believe what came out.
“It’s a parlor,” she finally broke the silence. “A Victorian parlor.” Her voice changed. “And a bedroom.” A significant pause. “For two.”
Her gaze stabbed toward Carey, who puffed up like a cat.
“Two singles,” he shot back.
She shrugged. “The kitchen’s cute.” She turned in a circle. “It’s like it’s the first RV, in a whacky, mad scientist kind of way. Clever and creepy.”
The “kitchen” had a Victorian sink that put the punk in steampunk, a cooking setup and food storage that lowered and rose, as well. She studied a packet of something before replacing it in its spot on the shelf. She tried a faucet. Water spurted, stopped and spurted again. She shut it off, and looked first at the short passage barred by a hatch and then at the hatch-cum-door to her right. Beyond it was another passage to the engine room, Robert knew.
“That door is the john,” Carey pointed out, still too helpful, but taking care to keep out of range of Ric’s elbow.
If the look in her eyes was an indication, she wanted to ask and if she didn’t ask soon, she was going to explode. He felt the questions quivering inside her, even if none of them reached her tongue. Robert wondered if there was some kind of automatic vacuum setup that would clean up the pieces when she blew. This place begged for a whacky vacuum cleaner as much as her eyes begged for answers. And the fact that he thought about her exploding and a whacky vacuum made him wonder if he’d be the one to explode. He knew he wasn’t thinking clearly, but that wasn’t possible when standing inside an impossible machine with Emily. The combo was…distracting. It helped when she vanished into the loo. And then Emily emerged, kicking distraction level to high again.