“GTT723.84.5894. Sergeant McCarthy
reporting. Temporal dampeners functional, mission paradox potential
nominal. Officer Kelly with me. Will update as mission unfolds,
McCarthy out.”
“Functional, hah!” Behind me,
Kelly was on his knees, still heaving from having passed through the
portal. “Christ, Sarge, why can't they make a tab for
timesickness?”
“The eggheads in the lab explained it
to me a while ago. Seems your body knows it's not supposed to be
here, despite you thinking everything's fine. Drugs can't fix it.
Everybody responds differently; me, I'm going to be bound up for a
couple of days.”
“*hurk* Thanks for the visual,
Sarge.”
We found ourselves in a large,
warehouse-like building, a couple of nhajers in size. Everything of
value had been removed long ago, but the building hadn't been
demolished yet – records indicated it was set to go in a week's
time. The walls still had traces of blue and yellow paint that
hadn't been refreshed in years. A perfect spot for a rendezvous:
plenty of cover, no prying eyes, very little paradox potential.
“Go check the door, Mike. She's
supposed to be here shortly, and I want to be sure she wasn't
followed.”
Kelly nodded and headed to one of the
sets of doors. As he reached them, he commed me: “On her way,
Sarge. Nobody in the truck, no other vehicles, no signs of copters.”
“Good. Lead her here, then. And be
nice to her: she's gone through a lot, and she's not done yet.”
I could hear her breathing the moment
she came through the door. The recon-suit she was wearing carried
twice the weight as a normal person, and she had had trouble carrying
it during training. The brass thought her labored breath made the
disguise a little more realistic.
As she and Kelly got to me, she pressed
a button on her abdomen, and the facemask and head of the suit slid
in to the back of her neck. She coughed as she saluted.
“Officer Zetterberg reporting.
Thanks for giving me a breather from that thing, Sarge. The last
three weeks have been hell!”
“Not a problem, Tina. How's the
stakeout going?”
“Sarge, it's a wonder we survived
this time. These people...my word, they're...they're...”
“Vita-Snack?” Kelly offered her.
“Dear God, yes!” She tore open the
wrapper and ate like someone who had been marooned for six months.
“Back to the stakeout...do you think
you've been spotted?”
“*hrmf?*” Zetterberg looked at me
with her mouth full. “No, I don't think so,” she swallowed.
“They're far too concerned with their own problems to notice that I
might be a little different. The training films helped a lot, but
weren't enough. I've had to ad-lib quite a bit.”
This wasn't exactly according to plan
or the book, but the mid-level bozos who wrote both don't understand
that things are different in the field than they are in a comfortable
pod. The high-end eggheads once told me that it didn't matter, since
everything has already happened and played out the way it should
anyway. “Don't worry about it. As long as they don't suspect
you're not really her...”
“Oh no. The older ones are dealing
with boyfriend issues, the man has been neutralized by the
antipheromones. As long as I keep making these disgusting meals for
the little one, and pumping her head full of garbage, she'll do
anything I say.”
That was a relief. I didn't care about
the others; the little girl was the mission.
Kelly broke in to my thoughts. “Where
are we keeping the mother?”
“Right here.” I pressed the temporal flux control on my belt, and a transparent box appeared. On it were the standard three panels: one for the stasis field, one for the temporal flux, one for the memory implantation device. In the box was a woman.
“Right here.” I pressed the temporal flux control on my belt, and a transparent box appeared. On it were the standard three panels: one for the stasis field, one for the temporal flux, one for the memory implantation device. In the box was a woman.
“I haven't seen one of these since
the Academy,” said Kelly. “Same setup? She's stuck in there in
stasis, getting fed all of Tina's experiences?”
“Yep. While in stasis, she senses
nothing, doesn't age, doesn't move forward in time. The temporal
flux keeps her milliseconds behind current time, so she can't be
found without the key.” I patted the flux control. “As far as
they're concerned, Tina, you're Mama June until we let her out of
there.”
Zetterberg made a face. “I hate
these people, and Christ I hate the food. If I have to make and eat
'sketti' one more time...” She shuddered. “Are you sure that I
need to witness this?”
“We have to get an accurate time for
the judges, one credible, certified witness, and a recording of the
event. We figure it will all go down in a couple of days, and then
you can come home and get out of that fatsuit.”
“Not a moment too soon. Right now
I'm living for the 20 minutes I get to spend in the shower. Thank
God this thing is self-cleaning.” She pushed the button in her
abdomen again, and the helmet-mask slid up over her head. “HOW'M
AH LOOKIN' NOW? HOT AS HELL! WHOO!”
I winced. Good thing the mask had a
translator calibrated to Mama June's...unique dialect and vocabulary.
While I watched her and Kelly go back to the door, I made my
report.
“GTT723.84.5975. McCarthy reporting. Contact made with Zetterberg, stakeout is go. Locals suspect nothing wrong, and we should have audio and video evidence shortly, as well as eyewitness testimony. McCarthy out.” I clicked off the reporter and turned to Kelly. “Let's go home.”
“GTT723.84.5975. McCarthy reporting. Contact made with Zetterberg, stakeout is go. Locals suspect nothing wrong, and we should have audio and video evidence shortly, as well as eyewitness testimony. McCarthy out.” I clicked off the reporter and turned to Kelly. “Let's go home.”
“Think it'll work, Sarge? Think
we'll have enough evidence for the judges to act on?”
“We have to, Mike. If Honey Boo-Boo
dies before that 100th episode, it's all over. The Great Push-back
won't happen, and all of art and culture will consist of laughing at
the dumber and less fortunate. Nothing uplifting. Nothing
inspiring. A culture based on a high-school boys locker room,
forever.”