Fortuna Read online

  “Tell me about the dates,” he urged the general.

  “Dates? What dates?” the general asked, surprised by Felix’s question.

  “The ones entered into the TPM’s console. What was the ‘child’s’ first destination?”

  “You don’t know?” the general jeered.

  “Tell me!” Felix roared. “This could be serious!”

  The general glared at him, puzzled by his anger. At the same time something made him uneasy. Unfolding his arms, he cleared his throat and spoke. “The first date was May 30, 71 BCE. The place was Cremona, the temple of Belenus. What’s the matter? You look like you’re about to be sick.”

  Felix was staring hard at the general. His eyes said everything, but he set it in words. “I hate to say this but we’re in serious danger.”

  “Come on,” the general said. “What sort of danger?”

  “The return of the plague,” Felix said. “Only this time there won’t be any possible cure.”

  Chapter Six

  “Tell the doctor what you told me. Take it from the top.”

  Felix was seated in the station’s viewing section. Behind him was a window looking onto the stars. With him were the general and Dr. Lee. All three were drinking tea, as if they were friends taking an afternoon break. The one detail hinting that this exchange wasn’t friendly was the trio of drones surrounding the table. The general didn’t trust Felix and was taking no chances.

  “That ‘child’ who’s jumped to the past. His intentions are deadly.”

  “What makes you say that?” Dr. Lee asked. “This is a strange plot, yes, but that doesn’t mean it’s dangerous. Your father’s doing some research, that’s all. While I consider him reckless, I’m sure he means no harm.” He sipped his tea. He’d always been a quiet, dignified man, but now he had a sad dimension, despite his ERR. This was because of the loss he’d sustained. While Felix had been able to stop the plague, he couldn’t rescue all its victims and across the globe thousands had perished. Dr. Lee’s son had been among the dead.

  “It’s the date,” Felix said. “When Carolyn and I went back last year, our entry date was June 15, 71 BCE. Of all the times this ‘child’ could jump to, why’s his date so close to ours? And his destination is Cremona, in Cisalpine Gaul.”

  “So?”

  “It’s Aceticus’ hometown.”

  “He wrote about the lupus ridens,” the general said.

  “I remember Aceticus,” the doctor said. “I don’t see —”

  “Look,” Felix said, with a note of impatience, “my dad found out about the TPM — how, I don’t know. He put me on to Aceticus, remember? So he knows the importance of the lupus ridens. Now he’s sent this ‘child’ to Aceticus’ town around the time I travelled to the past last year.”

  “Yes,” the doctor mused. The implications were trickling in.

  “He didn’t trust me with this task,” Felix continued, “because it was something he knew I’d never agree to. And he didn’t wear a mask when he held you up because he knew it wouldn’t matter if his plan succeeded.”

  “Succeeded how?” the doctor asked. His strangled tone suggested he knew the answer already.

  “For his own crazy reasons, he wants the plague to return. That means stopping Aceticus from writing his book. If he can’t write it, I can’t read it. If I can’t read it, the plague will rage. So that ‘child’ is after Aceticus. Who he is, I have no idea. But if he finds his target, all of us will die. And when I say all of us, I mean every living soul.”

  “Why kill everyone?” the general asked. Through his ERR, a glimmer of rage was visible. “He doesn’t care about his wife and son?”

  “He thinks it will claim a small number of lives. If a thousand die, or even a million, that’s a price worth paying if we mend their ways. He doesn’t know, the way I do, that the plague will kill every human at large and no one, I mean no one, will escape with their life.”

  Dr. Lee was about to sip his tea. He stopped in mid-course, his hand suddenly shaking. Tea spilled all over and he winced as if in pain. There was a flash as a hygiene system dealt with the mess.

  “My apologies,” the doctor spoke. “The attack last night is affecting my nerves.”

  “That’s all right,” the general said. He was frowning hard and busy thinking. “Let’s assume you’re right, Felix. Why were four dates entered into the TPM as well as into the ‘child’s’ blood? Besides his trip to 71 BCE, the ‘kid’ is scheduled to travel to Stockholm in 2111, then to Alexandria in 48 BCE. We haven’t retrieved the fourth date from the console. It’s been coded and is difficult to read.”

  “Maybe these are alternate targets. If the ‘child’ fails the first time, he’ll have three more options. But we’ll figure them out later. Right now, Aceticus is our main concern.”

  “What do you suggest?” Dr. Lee asked. He could barely breathe and spoke with effort.

  “Send me to the past, to intercept this ‘child.’ I’ll warn Aceticus or try to protect him.”

  “We could send you to May 29th,” the general said. “You could find Aceticus and —”

  “No,” Felix cut in. “That ‘child’ is in the wrong place. Aceticus isn’t in Cremona.”

  “But you said it was his hometown,” the doctor protested.

  “It is, but he’s not there. He’s visiting Rome.”

  “How do you know?” the general demanded.

  “Because Carolyn and I saw him there. We were in a stadium and Aceticus happened along — this was on June sixteenth. He’d been in Rome awhile, I’m sure. The ‘kid’ won’t find him in Cremona, believe me.”

  The general looked at Felix. Felix returned his glance then exchanged looks with the doctor. The trio continuing trading stares until the general slapped the table and set the teacups rattling.

  A decision had been reached. Felix was off.

  “How are you feeling?” Dr. Lee asked.

  “Groggy,” Felix admitted.

  “Don’t worry. You’ll feel better soon.”

  “Are we done?”

  “No. I have a ‘toy’ to show you. There’ve been improvements to the TPM since you used it last.”

  The doctor glanced at Felix from behind a desk. Its surface was empty but for a small hologram. They were seated in a cubicle that served as an office and consulting room. They’d just come from a treatment station where Felix had received various chemical “boosters.” He was rubbing his arm where a welt had formed.

  “What sort of improvements?” Felix asked.

  “Here,” the doctor answered, taking a bundle out. Removing a cloth, he disclosed a figurine. It was three inches high and resembled a woman in Roman garb. She carried a horn full of fruit and was wearing a crown.

  “It’s beautiful,” Felix said, inspecting it closely.“It must be Fortuna.”

  “It is. It can’t hurt to have this goddess on your side. But this figurine has a different use. Touch it and you’ll see what I mean.”

  “It feels odd,” Felix said, stroking it gently, “as if it were electrified.”

  “That’s right,” the doctor said. “Last year we set up portals in a host of ancient temples. This is what your father made me do for him. And by programming that ‘child’ with four different dates, I enabled him to jump from one time to the next, once he steps into a temple’s precinct. I should have let your father shoot me. If his plan succeeds and the plague returns …”

  The doctor’s lips were trembling and he was unable to finish. Felix could hardly believe his emotion, and this despite his ERR. At the same time he had to get him back on course. “You were discussing this figurine,” he prompted.

  “I’m sorry,” the doctor apologized. “Essentially it’s a portal you can carry on your person.”

  “Are you serious?” Felix asked. He looked at the statue dubiously. It had an electric feel, but seemed normal enough.

  “It’s programmed with the same dates as the ‘child’s,’” Dr. Lee explained. “71 BCE,
2111, and 48 BCE — the fourth date hasn’t been decoded yet. You choose a date by twisting the head to one of three slots. But there’s more. To move forward in time, you must raise the right arm. To move backward, raise the left. These determine the flow of the charge. Is that clear?”

  Felix nodded appreciatively and smiled at the doctor. Dr. Lee tried to smile, but wasn’t up to the task. Instead his eyes drifted to the hologram beside him. As hard as he tried not to, Felix eyed the picture, too.

  It was a portrait of the doctor’s son and showed the date of his demise: June 7, 2213. Hating to intrude on the doctor’s grief, Felix turned his eyes away, even though the picture seemed to plead for attention.

  “A couple more things,” the doctor went on, looking up from the portrait, “the figurine is charged to carry two people. There are no mass restrictions this time around. And unlike the charge in the various temples, no DNA protocols are in effect.”

  “So anyone could use this figurine?” Felix asked.

  “Yes. That ‘child’ must be stopped. Killing him could prove messy. The alternative is to carry him here and that explains the double charge. You only have to touch him while your portal is engaged and both of you will jump to the future.”

  “Good,” Felix said. He was glad to hear no killing would be necessary. Just the thought of stabbing someone turned his stomach. “You said a couple of things. There’s something else?”

  “Yes. But it’s good news. The ‘child’s’ charge is limited.”

  “Limited? What does that mean?”

  “He can last three weeks in each place, maximum. After that, the portal’s charge will die. We’ll dispatch you to your entry point of old — Panarium, 71 BCE. If you do exactly what you did last time, you’ll meet up with Aceticus. Once you do, you’ll protect him for a week. After that, the ‘child’ will be gone.”

  “You mean, he’ll be forced to jump to his second destination?”

  “Yes. The tracer in his blood will move him along. Unless you bring him here, that is.”

  “Okay,” Felix said. The task seemed difficult, but there was no point complaining. It had to be done and that was that.

  “Well then,” the doctor said, “it only remains to wish you luck.”

  “Thank you,” Felix said, climbing to his feet.

  “And Felix?” the doctor said, as Felix reached the exit.

  “Yes?”

  “My son’s name was Charlie. He was a good boy and you would have liked him.”

  “I’m very sorry, Dr. Lee.”

  “I’m sorry too. More than I can say.”

  “You have your toga virilis. Its fibres are dense and will serve as body armour. They’re also waterproof and lice-resistant. Like last time, you’ll be wearing modern underwear. And you have a pouch with cinnamon, a pinch of which is worth a fortune.”

  Professor MacPherson gave Felix a sidelong glance and his glasses reflected the light from the ceiling. Felix almost chuckled. Even his dad avoided glasses and had accepted vision implants. It was odd to see someone with glasses on his nose, as if he’d just stepped forth from a history textbook. But there was no denying the vigour in his stare. Like Felix and his father, the professor had avoided ERR and confronted the world with his feelings intact. Unfortunately these had aged him quickly. His wrinkles had multiplied since last year, and he appeared much frailer, more prune-like, too. He also seemed more kindly, if that was possible. He addressed Felix as fili mi, the way his father had.

  His father. Felix had asked to see him, if only for a minute. The general had been reluctant. Mr. Taylor was in bad condition: the shock from the stun-rod had affected him badly and he still hadn’t recovered fully. When Felix had insisted, the general had shrugged and addressed Bernard, the Station’s operating system. An image of his dad had appeared on a screen. He was lying on a pallet and staring at the ceiling. He’d seemed to be in a trance of sorts. Unable to endure this sight, Felix had nodded and the screen had gone blank.

  “What about your identity?” the professor continued, closing a cabinet door that kept swivelling open. This cabinet was old and crammed full of books and other objects. These contents kept causing its door to open and every few minutes the professor would slam it closed.

  “The old one won’t do,” Felix said, smiling at the professor’s irritation. It had been a long time since he’d seen such emotion. “Even though my entry point will be the same.”

  “The same?” the professor asked, staring at Felix. “I believe we sent you to Panarium last year. On June 15, 71 BCE.”

  “You did,” Felix agreed.

  “Yet this ‘child’ jumped to Cremona, on May 30?”

  “That’s right. He’s after Aceticus and hopes to find him in Cremona.”

  “So shouldn’t you follow him and proceed to May instead of June?”

  “Aceticus wasn’t in Cremona. He was visiting Rome.”

  “What?” the professor asked, with a look of surprise. Again, Felix wanted to laugh. Displays of emotion were so uncommon that a look of surprise resembled full-out shock.

  “I never told you. I met Aceticus on my trip last year.”

  “You met Aceticus?”

  “Yes, at the Circus Maximus. He’d been in Rome awhile. If my entry point is the same as last time, I’ll be sure to see him before that ‘child’ does. That’s why my old identity won’t work. Last time I was Aceticus’ adopted son.”

  “I see,” the professor mused. Because of his glasses, his eyes looked more turtle-like than human. The cabinet door opened and struck his head. With a mild curse, he slammed it closed. Again Felix had to suppress a chuckle.

  “All right,” MacPherson said. “I have it. We’ll make you someone of Celtic descent — this is true of many citizens in Cisalpine Gaul. This will explain your complexion and green-blue eyes. You’re travelling to Rome on family business. But where do you live and what’s your name?”

  “I’m from Mantua,” Felix said without hesitation, “and my name is Marcus Vergilius Maro, although my friends call me Felix.”

  “A clever choice,” the professor laughed. “Mantua is in Cisalpine Gaul and the Vergilii clan hail from this town. Well that’s everything, except …”

  “Except?”

  “Two things. First, you must be careful. The Romans aren’t like us, you know. They are passionate, strong, and very physical. Magnificent creatures, but easily insulted. Don’t let your guard down for a moment, puer.”

  “That’s one thing. Is there something else?”

  “Yes,” the professor said, removing his glasses. “I don’t believe your father’s guilty. A learned man like him could never be so barbaric. Just so you know.”

  “Thank you, Professor. Your words mean a lot.” He didn’t mention what he thought of his dad: that he was bitter, guilty, and utterly despicable. Instead he took his toga and left the office. The old man was watching him like a kindly hawk and didn’t even notice when, for the twentieth time, the cabinet door opened. As if directed by a ghostly hand, it banged him on the back of his skull.

  Felix was walking to his quarters. The TPM was charging still and scheduled to be ready in roughly three hours. In the meantime he would rest, if his worries allowed him to.

  “Felix!”

  Would he survive the trip? The last time round, he’d almost died. Only luck and Carolyn had kept him alive. But Carolyn wasn’t coming and his luck could fail him.

  “Felix! Wait up!”

  More disturbing was the subject of his father. What did all his learning come to? What difference did it make that he collected books and worked to preserve the historical record if he was plotting to kill every human on Earth? So people ignored the past. So the Repository might be shuttered. As terrible as this was, it didn’t give him the right …

  “Felix! Stop!”

  He turned on his heel and his mouth dropped open. Carolyn stood behind him. She was in a Klytex gown that reached down to her ankles and was wearing a pair of three-inch hee
ls. Her hair was in a bun and her skin was tinted — she’d changed her colouring to please Stephen Gowan. Despite his tension, he managed to laugh.

  “You’re all dressed up for Halo Ball, I see.”

  “This is no time for jokes! My dad told me the news and I rushed back to see you. You can’t go. You know that, don’t you?”

  “What’s the alternative? We let Aceticus die?”

  “You can’t be sure that’s the plan! After all, you know your father. Even if he used the TPM, there’s no way he’d try to resurrect the plague!”

  “I thought I knew my father,” Felix said sadly, “but the facts are clear. That ‘child’ is tracking Aceticus. If he succeeds, well, you’ve seen the results.”

  He was referring to the fact that, the year before, they’d returned to a world that had been empty of humans.

  “You can’t go back!” she insisted. “Those Romans are crazy! If they don’t stab you or beat you to death, they’ll find a hundred other ways to kill you! Stay with us and take your chances!”

  Her eyes met his. They were cold as ice and well-controlled. When Felix smiled, she couldn’t smile back.

  “I appreciate your concern,” he said, “but I have no choice. I should also get some rest because I’ll be leaving in three hours.”

  He smiled, turned, and walked away. He hadn’t taken three steps when an object struck his head. Wheeling about, he saw that Carolyn had tossed a shoe at him. He was going to speak when she tossed the other shoe as well. If he hadn’t ducked, it would have struck his face. Without a word, she walked off and vanished around a bend.

  Her message was clear. She was washing her hands of this stupid affair.

  Three hours and nineteen minutes later, Felix was on the threshold of a transparent sphere. It was twelve feet tall and its membrane was golden. Its interior was filled with multiple gases that were swirling and contained every shade of the rainbow. Surrounding Felix was a mass of equipment, processors, signallers, high-energy conductors. The temperature was elevated, but he had to focus hard to keep himself from trembling.