The Nick Of Time Part 13

"I don't understand why there should be a war at all," said Mihalik. "There's no way for the future to rule the past. What's past is past."

"What's past is Queen Hesternia's domain," said Petie. "It's a huge empire, but it's not infinite. King Proximo, however, has an open-ended empire that might go on through eternity. The Queen is jealous.

She tries to grab as much of Proximo's territory as she can, a little at a time. The King never attacks; he's fighting to keep things at a standstill, but Her Majesty won't let him relax. She never lets up. I said this war was futile, and that nothing changes. That's not precisely true; Hesternia keeps pus.h.i.+ng, and the front lines move bit by bit. A year ago, we were back there." He pointed behind them, beyond the trench they'd come from. "A year from now, we'll be up there someplace. This war has been going on since the beginning of the universe, and it will probably go on until the whole universe itself dies." "I see," said Cheryl, a look of dawning comprehension lighting her eyes. "And so the present--"

"There really isn't any present," said Petie. "It's just a convention, an idea without concrete meaning.

The present is always moving, just as the Queen's army is always moving."

"So the present is really just the point between the two armies," said Cheryl. "Wherever the front happens to be."

"That's oversimplified, but, yes, that's the way it works out. There would be no time-flow in the unreal universes if this struggle ended. Fortunately we've been able to push King Proximo back rather consistently; if his army rallies and drives us back, time-flow in the other universes reverses."

"n.o.body's ever noticed time running backward, at least not where we come from," said Mihalik.

"You're not equipped to notice it," said Petie. "It probably occurs often, but your brain and your sensory organs make it seem as if your life were continuing along in one direction only, gliding on through the days as smoothly as a lubricated cat. It's like your eyesight; you actually see things upside down, but your brain takes the images and flips them for you. Likewise, your brain edits out the backward-running episodes, so you're never aware of them."

"That's the reason the Queen and her generals can't send us home, Frank," said Cheryl. "They rule over the past, and the past isn't any good to us. We've already been there."

Mihalik nodded thoughtfully. "What do you know about this King Proximo?"

"Nothing," said Petie. "I've never been close even to my own queen. I know even less about the enemy's king."

"Except that he rules the future, and the Queen is always nibbling away at his empire and adding it onto her own," said Cheryl.

"Sounds like opportunism to you, I guess," said the private. "Well, if Proximo can't hold on to his territory, why shouldn't Her Majesty take it if she can?"

Neither Mihalik nor Cheryl had a good reply to that. "I didn't think the philosophy of time would lead to this," she said. "A battle through eternity, for eternity."

"It's a living." said Petie. He leaned back against the wall of their sh.e.l.l hole and tried to go to sleep.

Mihalik and Cheryl waited until the soldier's breathing became slow and regular; finally he started to snore. Then the two people from 1996 conferred in whispers. "We have to get out of here," said Mihalik.

"I know," said Cheryl. "If we don't, we'll have no hope at all of getting home. What do you think we should do?"

"I think we should slip across this d.a.m.n no-man's-land and see if King Proximo can be of more use to us."

Cheryl agreed in principle. "The only question I have," she said, "is how do we accomplish it?"

"Fleetness of foot," said Mihalik. "We leave the shelter of this little crater, and we haul a.s.s after Hesternia's army. When we catch up with it we keep on running through it, and we join up with Proximo's army. Then we find Proximo. We'll have to wing it from then on."

"I wouldn't do it," said Petie. Mihalik jerked around, surprised that Petie had overheard them.

"Why not?" asked Cheryl.

"Because Hesternia's very jealous. She deals very hard with traitors."

"We never asked for this in the first place," said Mihalik. "We were coerced and pressed into service.

Where we come--" But Petie was asleep again. "Grab your rifle, Cheryl. Follow me, up and over. Then we race straight through the fog toward the enemy. Stay low and zigzag."

"You're going to be between two vast armies, and both sides will be shooting at you," said Petie.

"I put my trust in Providence," said Mihalik simply. "It's better than spending the rest of my life in a phony sh.e.l.l hole."

"I don't know about that," said Petie. "This is the most comfortable crater I've ever been in."

Kiss Yesterday Goodbye "Goodbye, Petie," Cheryl said. "I hope you get through this battle safely." "We all got to go sometime," said the soldier stoically. "We got to go now," she said.

"Come on, Cheryl," murmured Mihalik. Then he climbed out of the sh.e.l.l hole and started to sprint bent over, clutching his rifle to his chest, and making a zig or a zag every few yards. Cheryl followed him without a complaint. She was in good physical condition, so Mihalik didn't have to worry about her collapsing from fatigue in the danger zone.

The two chronatic explorers raced across the open ground, through the barbed wire into no-man's-land, and toward the rear of Hesternia's advancing army. Sh.e.l.ls continued to burst all around them, and the explosions were constant and deafening. Soon Mihalik could hear nothing but a loud ringing in his ears. He looked over his shoulder and saw Cheryl, hunched over just as he was, closing the gap between them with every stride. Bullets from the enemy's rifles made a high-pitched zanging noise as they struck the ground nearby. Mihalik prayed that they wouldn't be cut down between the trenches.

Soon Cheryl was running beside him, breathing through her mouth. They were both nearing exhaustion; they didn't have enough wind to talk, so together they just charged silently ahead. There really wasn't anything to discuss, anyway.

They pa.s.sed through the back ranks of Hesternia's forces and went on toward the vanguard. Mihalik felt Cheryl's hand on his arm, and he glanced at her. She pointed up toward the "sky." A World War One biplane -- maybe a Sopwith Camel, but Mihalik had no detailed knowledge of early aircraft, not enough to make a positive identification -- was circling overhead. If it belonged to King Proximo, it might be getting ready to strafe the advancing troops; if it belonged to Hesternia, it might be providing air support or spotting enemy gun emplacements. There weren't any other planes, so it was likely that this single aircraft was just a spy plane gathering intelligence.

In a few minutes, as they were forging their way through the front line of Hesternia's army, they saw the biplane leaving a message overhead. It was skywriting without a sky -- in script, rather than block letters. The message was: SURRENDER MIHALIK OR DIE.

"Remember the Wicked Witch on her broom, spelling out 'Surrender Dorothy or Die' over the Emerald City?" asked Cheryl, panting between words.

Mihalik nodded. "How did Hesternia know about our plans? How does she know my name?"

"It's her job, Frank. She must know absolutely everything that happened in the past, whether she was physically present or not. Otherwise she wouldn't be the Queen of the Past."

"Well, I'm not going to surrender," said Mihalik. "Maybe to Proximo, but definitely not to Hesternia."

"Oh, Frank," said Cheryl breathlessly, "you're always so brave!"

That made him laugh right in the middle of one of his zags. "You're here with me," he reminded her.

"I'm not being brave, I'm just being a hero. You're the brave one. You don't have to be here."

"You're sweet," she said. Then they put all their energy into running. Soon they'd outstripped the Queen's front rank and they were all alone, getting closer and closer to the trenches of tomorrow. When at last they reached the first of the enemy trenches, it was deserted. They jumped down into it and searched quickly for someone wearing an army of the Future uniform. They found connecting trenches and tunnels and hurried through them, farther into Proximo's territory. They were beginning to get discouraged -- there was no one to capture them, to take them to King Proximo, to give them a chance to beg for freedom and help. They turned a corner and suddenly there was a dense crowd of futuristic defenders. Mihalik and Cheryl smiled to show they intended to do no harm.

"Drop those pieces," said a burly man with a thick black beard. He was wearing a blue and silver uniform that reminded Mihalik of the Agency's uniform he'd seen in one or another of the false universes they'd visited.

"Right," said Cheryl. She threw her rifle to the ground and so did Mihalik. They expected to be taken away to be questioned, but they were mistaken. The bearded man gave them each another rifle, the kind used by Proximo's infantry. Mihalik looked at his new rifle, then at Cheryl. "Honey," he said softly, "I think we've been drafted again."

It's a Long, Long Way to Tipperary "See them?" asked the sergeant pointing back across no-man's-land, where the front ranks of Queen Hesternia's army were just emerging from the fog and smoke and mustard gas.

"Those guys?" said Mihalik, thinking fast.

The sergeant in the blue and white uniform glanced at him briefly, a pitying look on his face. "What happened?" he asked Cheryl. "Did your buddy here throw himself on a grenade to save his squad and miss?"

"No," she said pleasantly, "he's always been like this."

"Ah, well." The black-bearded sergeant coughed. "Then I'll take it slower. 'Those guys,' as he so aptly put it, are coming to do you harm."

"Naw, they wouldn't," said Mihalik. "I've met those guys. They're all decent sorts."

"I know that," said the big man, "I know they are. Believe me, though, when they get here, they'll be shooting and stabbing to make your hair stand on end. Why else are they carrying rifles? Ask yourself that one, my boy. Why else do the rifles have such devilish-looking bayonets? Not just for parade and impressing the girls on Lady Day. Now listen: me and my boys, we've been in this trench for a long time.

A long time. And we've taken a vote and we've decided that it's about time we moved along. Headed back a bit, gave up a bit of ground if we have to. A strategic withdrawal, as it were, advancing to the rear. You're going to have to cover our backs. It's going to be up to you to see that we get away alive.

It's heroic action I'm asking of you. I'm asking you now, do you think you're up to it?"

"Of course," said Mihalik, his chest beginning to swell up at the mention of the word "heroic."

"Wait a moment, wait a minute!" said Cheryl. "This isn't quite right. Those were our comrades, just a little while ago. Now you're telling us to shoot them down while you and your friends. .h.i.t the dusty trail.

You want us to hold off all of Queen Hesternia's army, just the two of us, while you turn tail. Why in h.e.l.l should we?"

The sergeant thought about that for a second, maybe two. "I could bring up the matter of how you'd be executed as spies in a minute if I decided that you should be; but leaving that aside, think of it as Vietnamization."

"As what?" asked Mihalik.

"We're turning the war over to you who ought to be fighting it in the first place. We've been dying for you, you know, not that we haven't been glad to do it; but it's time you folks from the unreal universes began shouldering some of the responsibility. Now start shooting, because I'm beginning to see the whites of some eyes out there. Good luck, and watch out: these Mausers tend to shoot a little shorter than you'd think." With that, the sergeant ducked down and hurried around a turn in the trench, gone before Cheryl could get out another objection.

"What would happen if we ran after him?" asked Mihalik.

"They'd probably shoot us down as we turned the corner," said Cheryl.

"That's what I was thinking. So instead we'll stay here and fire into our buddies' advancing lines." He shrugged; it was all the same to him.

"Well, Frank, they never were our buddies, none but Petie, really; and he sure won't be up here in the front. We'll never live long enough to risk taking a shot at Petie. Let your conscience be clear. They'll overwhelm us here in the trench and we'll be dead meat before Petie shows up. Don't worry about it."

"'Dead meat,'" said Mihalik. There was a brief pause. "Cheryl," he said finally, "my conscience is clear. Why didn't that sergeant speak German and wear a German uniform?"

"Just start shooting, Frank. We'll learn the answers together in heaven."

Mihalik raised his Mauser and drew a bead on a faceless Tommy, some hundred yards away. Before he could squeeze the trigger, a calm somewhat amused voice said, "Wait."

"What?" asked Mihalik. It hadn't been Cheryl's voice. "I said, 'Wait.'" There was a young man standing beside them in the trench, wearing yet another sort of uniform. He didn't seem to have reached his twenties, yet his face showed that he'd experienced many of the cruelties of warfare himself, that life had not been easy for him, either. He put a hand on Mihalik's shoulder, and his touch was gentle but manly.

"Who are you, sir?" asked Cheryl. "And where did you come from?"

"My name?" The young man gazed off across no-man's-land, a brief smile upon his lips. "It doesn't matter, I guess, but I am Captain Hartstein of the Time Patrol. There's no one in the Time Patrol but me.

It's a lonely job, or it would be if I didn't have--" Hartstein stopped himself abruptly. "None of that is important now. All you need to know is that I've come from the far, far distant future to rescue you from this untenable position."

"Good," said Mihalik, "that's just what I hoped would happen. You read the note we left in the time capsule at the Fair. It sure took you long enough. You put us through a lot of unnecessary inconvenience."

"Frank," said Cheryl in a loud whisper, "he's here to help. Mind your manners."

Mihalik was genuinely abashed. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Think nothing of it," said Captain Hartstein. "No, I didn't read your message in the time capsule. It's a long story. You see, in the near future -- that is, your future -- I mean, the future of your own lives, not of this nontime and nonplace -- you will visit me, and give me valuable encouragement when I'm in a situation even worse than this."

"Oh, what a tangled web we weave...."

"We will?" asked Cheryl. "How can that be?"

"The twists and turns time can make," said Hartstein, smiling and shaking his head. "When you travel in time, you snag yourself around the lines of many other people. If some of them are traveling in time, too, your meeting may happen in your present but their past or future. Or their present, or any combination -- look, we don't have time for a discussion of all this, just take my word for it. When I needed it, you tried to restore my morale. Now, later for me but earlier for you, I want to return the favor. I've come back to this point in your travels when you need a.s.sistance, and I'm going to take you out of here. In years to come, people will honor you as the Odysseus and the Penelope of Time."

"Gee," said Mihalik, obviously pleased. He liked the sound of that: the Odysseus of Time.

"So we won't have to kill our friends?" asked Cheryl. "As you said, they weren't really your friends,"

said Hartstein patiently. "But no, you won't have to kill them."

"Good," she said. She dropped her rifle to the ground.

Mihalik did the same.

"Now listen some more," said Hartstein. "The reason that you haven't been able to get home is very simple. You're in the future, and the future doesn't really exist. You've been in the future ever since you left the World's Fair--"

"But when we left there, we went back to 1996," said Mihalik. "It was just the wrong 1996."

Hartstein shook his head. "It was the right year, the right month, but the wrong day," he said.

"Remember? You arrived exactly twenty-four hours later than you departed. So you were technically and effectively in the future, which is all fantasy, unreality, and not to be trusted. You've been in the future ever since. There's no such thing as the 'real' past or the 'real' future. Never mind about that now; it's something Dr. Waters will have to discover with his calculations before you even get home. Your only hope is to get back to your present, which will be the seventeenth of February, 1996. All the many months you've been gone will not have pa.s.sed in your present. Remember, though, that as long as you're as much as one minute in the past or one minute in the future, you'll be trapped in one unreal universe or another. You have to find the present..." And with those words, Hartstein's image began to fade away like a dream, like the snows of yesteryear, like a projected image in a darkened room when the lights are turned up brightly.

"But how?" called Cheryl.

Hartstein's disembodied voice came to them weakly. "You better close your eyes so you'll be in tunewith the Infinite," he said.

"A line from The Wizard of Oz," muttered Mihalik. "Even from him."

"Close your eyes, Frank!" cried Cheryl.

They both closed their eyes, but they heard and felt nothing. They stood like that for a long time, until they began to feel foolish and a little afraid. The army of Queen Hesternia should be rus.h.i.+ng upon them very soon. First Cheryl opened her eyes, then Mihalik. They looked around. The trenches were gone; the dim and foggy battlefield had vanished; the frightening world of between-time was now somewhere else, as it was supposed to be. The two explorers stood in a broad bright meadow of flowers, beneath a clear blue sky and a warm heartening sun. Mihalik looked at Cheryl, down at the flowers, and up at Cheryl again. His expression twisted sourly. "Poppies," he said disgustedly.

Book Five

The Future Is Just Like the Present, Only Longer

A Place Where There Isn't Any Trouble