Kid my only kid
You look so small you've gone so quiet
I know you know what I'm about
I won't deny it
But you forgive though you don't understand
You've turned your head
You've dropped my hand
-- Chrissie Hynde and the Pretenders (Kid)
=/\=
Tom didn't quite know what to make of things as he piloted the Jack Finney back to 2026. It wasn't like he hadn't seen mayhem and death before. He was a professional soldier, and had been so for over nineteen years, working his way up to a Colonel's rank.
When he was recruited by Kevin, he had been the head of an on-site military detachment, assigned to the Breen homeworld. There was a regular police force there – his unit wasn't responsible for that – they were responsible for quelling any riots and defending that planet in the event of any sort of an invasion. Currently, the only possible, viable threat from within the Milky Way Galaxy would be from the Borg. Pretty much every other species had either joined the Federation, or ignored it, or did not yet have Warp technology.
As for any threats from outside the Milky Way, there was a fleet of ships beyond the galactic barrier, standing ready. Among them, and blending in seamlessly, was the USS Adrenaline, which was the top secret location of the Temporal Integrity Commission.
He was glad to be done with the Breen homeworld assignment. It was cold as hell there, and he had found it to be dull and monotonous, the people overly suspicious of humans, despite the putative peace between the two species.
He had moved back to Titania, his original home, to be near his aging parents. Everyone on Titania spoke with a gentle Southern drawl, as that Uranian moon had originally been settled by natives of both Carolinas. Many of them had still been a bit peeved about what they called the War of Northern Aggression, and so Titania was a Southerner's paradise, replete with several different rival kinds of barbecue, cotton and peanut fields, and enough of a love for States' Rights that the moon's government had felt compelled to declare itself independent and sovereign.
His parents, Michael and Dorothy Grant, could trace their respective ancestries back to Major General George Pickett and Lady Bird Johnson.
He practically had Southern Comfort flowing through his veins.
=/\=
Levi went back to the all-important decryption. Yes, he was supposed to be monitoring the two return trips. But that was a bit dull, plus he really had his mind set on decrypting the Manifesto and it was so very difficult for him to shake such a deep level of concentration. Almost no one ever tried to nudge him out of it.
Kevin could see this, and took it upon himself to monitor both return trips. It wasn't that the decryption didn't interest him – for it held the attention of all of them – but he knew where the current priorities lay.
=/\=
"It looks like we're past 2350," Carmen said, reading over Tom's shoulder.
"Oh, uh, yes," he turned to face her, "So, how does this Temporal Integration work?"
"It's easy, and that's mainly because you're from this universe and so is your temporal counterpart. By that I mean the version of you that is in 2026 already. All you need to do is make any form of physical contact with yourself, and the two selves will merge. And here's the fun part – you get all the knowledge of the older version but you're the age of the younger one."
"I can see where that would be convenient."
"To be sure," she said, "Temporal Integration, by the way, does not work with the mirror universe. You know, the twenty centimeter radiation band, versus our twenty-one centimeter band. Touch your counterpart – if you have one, that is – and you'll both just shrug and walk away. But any other radiation bands – you can have a kind of limited form of integration whereby you can work together to, perhaps, solve a problem. But you don't merge, and they can all return to their own bands."
"Why is it different with the mirror?" he asked. The instrument panel read 2100.
"I'm sure I don't know, but somehow we are related to them in a way that we aren't to the other radiation bands, not even the twenty-two centimeter band. You'd think, since the difference is the same amount, albeit in reverse, from the mirror, that we'd have similar kinship. But we just don't. Someday, some smarter mind than mine will figure that one out."
"The woman who was killed, uh, what was important about her?"
"You mean Phyllis Benson, right? Well, it's not her. It's her son's daughter, although I can't say that I'm certain why it makes a difference with government, money or any of the other changes."
"And?" he prompted.
"And Leah Benson was the official Starfleet Rabbi when the NX-01 was launched. I wish I could say exactly why the timeline was so affected by Phyllis's death, but that's what I've got," she smiled, "How do you feel about going back to 2026?"
"I'm not loving it," he admitted, "I mean, Benson was the only person who openly said that dropping the atomic bomb was a bad idea. And she got killed for that. But how many other people were thinking that, but said nothing because they were scared?"
"In the original history, she lives."
"So she's quiet in the original history, as cowardly as the rest of them?"
"Not necessarily – maybe she was just not as loud, but still mentioned it. A bit of discretion, maybe, saved her life."
"And then nobody hears that she – or anyone else – objects to what's unfolding."
"It could even be that, which triggered the changes we saw," she said.
"Oh – I got one more question about Temporal Integration."
"Ask away, but keep in mind I'm no engineer."
"I understand," he said, "Uh, what happens with the two versions of the Jack?"
"Ah, yes. It's done the same way as for people – the ships touch and merge. And anyone who's on them ends up on the final, merged product. But I wouldn't recommend being on board when it happens. It's unnerving. So we'll do it when we're all on the surface, and merge your two versions as well. As for Kevin, we'll beam him back using a Temporal transporter, or time portal, and he'll be merged that way."
"I guess two versions of Kevin or me would be a problem."
"Not as much as two versions of some others would be."
=/\=
Back in 3109, Levi kept at the decryption. And then, finally, he hit pay dirt. The second paragraph had forty-three words, some of which were a good ten and eleven letters long.
Nine of those words were only three letters long. Through a bit of brute force, he determined that three of them were the word the. As for the other six, he correctly guessed that the third word was and. A pair of lucky guesses got him has and too. The word has was even represented twice. But the last two were elusive. He finally thought of what could possibly be the worst three-letter word ever, and came up with war.
And he was right.
Only thirty-five words to go.
=/\=
In her spare time, and with less of an intense single-minded purpose, Deirdre also worked on the decryption. It would be a while before the news broadcasts changed in any way, so she was also free to play with the file.
Sensing that the paragraph was one long string of negativity, she had also found the word war. But she hadn't stopped there, and had also found words like slaughtered, suffering, pain, disease, poverty, starvation and force.
She would have shared her findings with Boris, but he was nowhere to be found.
=/\=
All my sorrow, all my blues
All my sorrow
Shut the light, go away
Full of grace, you cover your face
-- Chrissie Hynde and the Pretenders (Kid)
YOU ARE READING
Ohio
FanfictionThis time, they had no one to blame but themselves. Time was again messed up, but no one else was at fault. Still, someone was watching, and taking notes. And they had their own dilemma to deal with - how do you decide who lives, and who dies? Who's...
