Time Past (55 page)

I was ticking items off on my fingers as I went, and drawing invisible diagrams on the arm of the chair to help me get my facts straight.

“There is not old and new jump points,” said Barik.

It took me a moment to work out what he meant. “You mean there’s no first cause.”

“Yes, no first, no second.” He added with probably intentional emphasis, “No lines.”

“I know. All the jump points exist simultaneously, right? But my mind works linearly so that’s how I explain it.” I paused, remembered where I was.

“Right. Two pairs of jump points, we went through the
Farseer
one. History files show a surge of radiation two days later in 2023 near those coordinates. This indicates one of the points in 2023 destabilized. Ninety-nine years later, the position of the other side of the jump point as it destabilizes here indicates it was the old point that destabilized, not the
Farseer
one. So there is now only one pair of jump points at those coordinates near Earth and near Jocasta. One point, which
Farseer
created, and through which Serat would send
Calypso
several years later. Then the Tor would drag it back, etcetera.”

This was the strange bit. “So according to my calculations, there’s still a jump point at the coordinates near Jo-casta where
Farseer
brought Murdoch and me from 2023. This point will stay there for another four years until 2126, when it will disappear because the Tor have already pulled it back to last year to allow
Calypso
to arrive. Does that make sense to you?” I was asking myself as much as An Barik.

The Invidi’s tentacles curled into a complex pretzel, then relaxed again. “The one thinks you will not find such a point.” He should know better than to throw me a challenge.

Murdoch and I walked along the path between the sea and the road. Vehicles ran quietly behind a thick belt of scrub. Out in the bay some white pleasure sails skidded over the water and a long ferrytrain glinted in the distance.

Murdoch shaded his eyes against the glare and sniffed the salt breeze. His face was as familiar as the sunlight and yet I felt as if I were seeing it for the first time. It had been a long week. He’d been held up at Jocasta, finishing his reports. Then he’d been held up at Central, waiting for confirmation of his extra leave, then on Titan when his transport’s thruster exhaust malfunctioned. Even though he’d sent me regular messages once he arrived in the solar system, it wasn’t the same as having him here.

I missed him during the lonely, boring hours of my trial and asylum hearing. I missed him when I walked the streets of an Earth I barely knew. I missed him at night as I tossed on my EarthFleet bed in my monitored quarters and tried not to relive the mistaken choices of previous months over and over again. I wondered, too, if Henoit would finally leave us alone or if I’d have to spend my time with Murdoch trying to ignore his presence. Henoit had helped me when I tried to disconnect
Farseer
from the opsys, but he hadn’t interrupted on the few times I’d been in physical contact with Murdoch during the crisis.

Unfortunately, Murdoch and I hadn’t had a chance to talk properly in the few days between An Serat’s death and my departure with an EarthFleet escort. I didn’t know where his next transfer would be. He’d said something about being sent back to Earth. Which would be good for me, as I was going to be stuck here. But maybe EarthFleet had changed its mind. Or maybe Murdoch would prefer somewhere out of the solar system, or at least on another planet.

“In 2085 they decided to restore the harbor to pretty close to its original state,” said Murdoch. “I must’ve been about ten. Took ’em years and years.” He looked away from the water to me. “You heard about the vote.”

“We should congratulate ourselves.”

“You don’t sound very happy.”

I scuffed the toe of my boot deliberately on the gravel path, sending chips skipping into the grass. “I’m delighted. I just wish I could be there to help implement it.” I looked at the sea. “About here?”

“Bit farther. Might as well do it right. We’ve come this far.”

We certainly had. A century and hundreds of light-years. A long way to find that death is final and that time always wins.

“About here,” said Murdoch after another twenty meters or so. He leaned on the rail and watched me.

I held out the bunch of flowers I carried. “You want to help?”

He shook his head. “I already said good-bye.”

On the other side of the rail, short grass and spindly trees clung to a stony slope, ending in yellowish rocks that stuck out into the water. The waves slapped spray over the farthest of these and swirled into near crevices.

I ducked under the rail. Stones turned under my feet and the sun beat hot on the back of my neck. The first rocks were dry and gritty with blown sand. Then I slipped on spray-wet areas until, breathing hard, I stood on the flat surface of a large rock. Up close, the waves looked rougher than they looked from the path, showing cream-veined undersides as they lifted to the wind.

The flowers emerged fresh and moist from their layer of wrapping. Small yellow and orange faces smiling at the sun. I scrunched the wrap into my pocket and untied the line that bound the stalks together.

The sun’s heat on my head and hands, cool salt air against my cheek, slip-slop of waves. Only the sea and the moment forever itself and eternity. I said Will’s name and threw the flowers outward. The wind laid them in a pattern on the waves where they floated with the foam.

I wiped my face, then turned around and walked back to Murdoch and the path.

He reached out to help me under the rail, then kept hold of my hands. He cleared his throat. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

I felt my face reddening and it wasn’t the sun. I gripped his hands tight, half apprehensive. If Henoit was still around, this was the moment his voice would start whispering and sending shivers of pleasure at me.

“I accepted the Earth transfer,” he said.

“You want to stay on Earth?”

His hands were sweaty. “Thought I could see a bit more of Irena, too. And we could... I mean, shit, you made me sleep in a separate bed last time we lived together. The least we can do is try properly.” He must have taken my silence for indecision. “You might enjoy it.”

I wasn’t silent because I didn’t like the idea. I was enjoying the feeling of being alone. No voice in my ear. No,
nor death shall us part
or flush of uncomfortable passion. Henoit wasn’t there. Was it because I didn’t need him anymore? He might be waiting in eternity—but I suppose I’ll deal with that when the time comes.

It didn’t matter. He’d gone, and Murdoch was here, now.

I pulled one of Murdoch’s hands around my waist and smiled. “Are you sure you want to stay with a known galactic criminal?”

He smiled back. It made the memory of mistaken choices less painful and future choices seem easier.

“I’ll take the risk,” he said.

“I’d love you to stay with me.”

I reached up around his neck and he drew me into the kiss.

About the Author

Maxine McArthur was born in Brisbane, Australia, in 1962. Her father was an engineer and the family moved from town to town when she was a child. Perhaps in reaction to this, after leaving school she spent sixteen years in Osaka, Japan, studying and working as well as making a family. She moved back to Australia in 1996 and settled in Canberra. She has always loved reading, mainly genre fiction such as crime and SF/fantasy, and enjoyed creative writing at school, but only began writing seriously after returning to Australia. Her first published work, the science fiction novel
Time Future
(1999 Random House Australia, 2000 Warner Aspect) won Transworld Publisher’s 1999 George Turner Award for best unpublished SF/fantasy manuscript by an Australian author.
Time Past
is the sequel, and features many of the same characters. Maxine has two children, a dog, and a part-time job at the Australian National University, and does far less reading than she’d like to.