Time Begins Here

TIME BEGINS HERE\ The Sequel to The City of the Sky \ \ By T.J. Keogh \ iUniverse, Inc.\ Copyright © 2010 T.J. Keogh\ All right reserved.\ ISBN: 978-1-4502-0590-0 \ \ \ Chapter One\ Dryce Mendoza did not like the word "thief." It held too many moral connotations and cast too much doubt upon his character. Yet, it was by this word that he would almost certainly be referred for as long as Ozzaens had memory. \ Thief, and villain, and even-traitor. All of this, and more.\ But it was the word "thief" that troubled him most. Nevertheless, it was necessary. And if his plan played out as he envisioned, he would never need to hear it spoken aloud, and that was consolation enough.\ Dryce's footfalls reverberated loudly, as he moved briskly up the narrow, ascending hallway, letting the lighting panels overhead sense him and activate only long enough for him to pass. The world to him seemed not to exist beyond the two meters of hard, lighted floor in front of and behind him, and for the moment, he was alone. The sublevels of Elders' Hall were rumored to be mostly deserted, and for once, the rumors seemed accurate.\ The floor leveled out, and in a secluded corner, he stopped to catch his breath, bending to rest his hands on his knees. With a brush of his index finger, Dryce removed a single bead of sweat from his high forehead, whisking back a few thick strands of his coarse, black hair. He adjusted his gray Science Ministry tunic and straightened his rectangular badge. His heart still pounded mercilessly in his chest, giving away the tension and nervousness with a telltale thump, thump, thump.\ He replayed the previous ten minutes in his mind and shuddered at the audacity of his actions. To break into the very heart of Elders' Hall was one thing, but to violate the inner sanctum itself-to steal from the Circularium Council-that was a bold act indeed. The memories felt more like dreams to him, and he needed proof of their veracity.\ Dryce dug into a concealed pocket of his tunic and felt the contents, cold and solid against his skin. He brought out a handful and examined them in the light. At once, his eyes were splashed with brilliant color, bursting forth from at least a thousand glittering facets. Gems of all shapes, sizes, and varieties, brought to Ansenar by the progenitors almost five centuries before. They had languished in a repository vault beneath Elders' Hall ever since, and now they belonged to Dryce.\ Voices approached from his left, and he quickly replaced the gems in his pocket while ducking around the corner. Two elders passed, not more than five steps away, and he held his breath until their voices faded down the corridor. For a moment he remained motionless, feeling the thump, thump, thump again and considering the consequences if he were caught. His Science Ministry security clearance and credentials were impressive, but that would mean little to the Circularium, especially once the theft was discovered.\ So much for deserted, he thought.\ Now he ran, letting his strides carry him so quickly that the illumination panels overhead could barely keep up. He needed to hurry. He needed to escape as quickly as possible if the plan were to succeed. So much depended on that.\ Soon, the light ahead fell upon a doorway to his right, and he stopped in front of it, letting his large, dark eyes play upon its smooth metal surface, searching for the identification plaque that he knew had to be there. He spoke aloud but just loudly enough so that his voice could be picked up by the audio sensors in the door. He felt the sweat beads form again. "Orion, this is Dryce. Please unlock the exit door."\ A voice reached into the tiny section of illuminated corridor and filled it with a cold resonance. "Dryce, this exit door is accessible only to members of the Circularium. I cannot comply with your request."\ "Orion, did you not allow me admittance only a few minutes ago? Did you not open the D room vault for me and allow me admittance?"\ "Those actions will need to be examined, Dryce. I cannot comply."\ The response was no surprise. The vast artificial intelligence that comprised Orion's operational matrix would not allow itself to be tricked by logic or any other force. No Ozzaen, save the orandar himself, could persuade it to disregard its directives. But Dryce could throw those rules aside. He alone could cheat.\ A thief and a cheat, he mused. But what did it matter now?\ Another set of voices was approaching from down the corridor, and he felt the urgency of the moment building inside him. "Orion, access my personal file and execute program two-one-theta again. Continue phase one." His voice cracked, and he fought back the urge to shout. Such a display of emotion would not motivate the great machine or cause it to act any faster. But the voices grew steadily louder.\ The cheat took affect all at once. There was a pause before the door slid open, disappearing into the wall, with only the faintest of sounds. Beyond, the sleeping city of Ansenar awaited, and he struck off into it-down an alley and around a corner heading west, his heart still pounding. How close he had come to being discovered! Only his knowledge of Orion's program matrix had saved him and then just barely.\ The rest of the plan had been formulated to the last detail, with very little chance of anything unexpected occurring. The Ozzaen people and their lofty technology were both infernally predictable, he knew. Three weeks of nearly constant preparation had resolved all reasonable contingencies in his mind, and when he was able to look back on it some months hence, separated from the act by both time and distance, he could safely marvel at his own genius and audacity.\ And only then could he truly relax.\ Now he ran as he had never run before: west, then north, then west again, through the curving fringes of the old city. The streets and ways were nearly deserted, giving him a sense of eerie calm as he ran, his beige pant legs chafing together with a strange and audible rhythm. If he stuck to the outlying areas, skirting the major residential districts, he would arrive at the transport bay before even the earliest alarms could be raised, and the least amount of attention he attracted, the better.\ He stopped again and caught his breath, watching a young couple cross his path ahead. The sight of someone running, especially at night, was an unusual thing. Ozzaens did not rush; there was typically no need for such haste, but Dryce had no choice now. To his relief, the couple did not even glance in his direction.\ He thought of the gems in his pocket again and steeled himself with a single, undeniable truth-the same truth that had given him strength since he had first hit upon the plan almost a month before. The same truth that had kept him focused when his conscience seeped back in: the riches in the vault had been locked away by a culture that no longer valued such things and guarded by a council of elders who treated them as nothing more than historical footnotes. Few ordinary citizens even knew the vault existed, but Dryce knew, and the knowledge had burned inside him for years.\ So, how could a society miss something that it was only vaguely aware of? He needed the gems far more than they did. The Circularium, certainly, would take great offense, but the people of Ansenar ... It was a turbulent and unnerving time for Ozzaen society, and the people had other, more pressing matters with which to occupy their thoughts. This, at least, absolved some of his guilt.\ Following the slowly narrowing, westward reach of Latimer Way brought him to a set of large double doors. He was standing at the base of the immense western hull wall, stretching above him for over a kilometer like a smooth gray mirror. For five centuries that wall, and its five counterparts that made up the sturdy rectangular box that enclosed Ansenar and Greater Ozzaea, had protected the Ozzaen people from the frigid vacuum of space outside. But even more that that, they had sheltered them from all outside influences, allowing a singular culture to develop, a culture unique in the history of humanity.\ But Dryce was not a historian; he was a scientist, and an accomplished one. He cared little for the Ozzaen legacy, and now he was voluntarily abandoning that security for a chance at something else, something far less noble. When thought about in those terms, the plan appeared very selfish indeed.\ Do I really despise my own people? he pondered.\ Caught by his own hazy reflection in the polished aluminum surface of the doors, Dryce paused briefly. His dark, handsome face seemed pained somehow, and his tall, athletic frame was stooped a bit. Perhaps the strain of the plan had worn on him more than he anticipated. Keeping secrets from those few friends he had left, as well as the subterfuge that had been necessary within the Science Ministry itself, had taken its toll.\ He activated the doors, stepped into a short corridor, and began running again, the gems jangling like tiny bells in their pocket. The high ceiling was studded with illuminatory panels that snapped on instantly, giving off a yellow glow, and he pressed himself forward, toward the elevator.\ Up he went, hundreds of meters skyward, and then the elevator car began to move horizontally. Dryce checked his chronometer and felt his heart rate quicken again. He was ahead of schedule, but only just barely.\ Then the elevator began to move down again, and when the doors finally opened, Dryce was confronted by the entrance to the transport garage, an immense service bay beneath the hangar itself. This large door was guarded by Orion, and this time, he did not need to cheat to enter. His status alone served the purpose. The door opened with a prolonged hiss.\ Just inside, a small man wearing the uniform of a transport technician stepped out from behind a desk and greeted him with the traditional Ozzaen slow nod, a sign of both respect and acknowledgment. Dryce reciprocated and halted his approach, concealing a deeply nervous swallow with a brush of his hand. Again, his heart rate raced. Now his fate depended on his ability to lie-a skill that hardly came natural to Ozzaens.\ "Good evening, sir," the man announced. "What can I do for you?" Somehow, it did not sound like a question.\ "Supervisor Mendoza from the Science Ministry. I'll be needing a transport. Official ministry business."\ The man's eyes narrowed and sought out the badge on Dryce's chest, examining it carefully without blinking. His face was suddenly serious. "I wasn't told of this. Are you sure the request was entered properly?"\ "There was no request," Dryce replied, forcing a disarming smile. "I was only just notified. The ministry requested I perform a visual inspection of the solar collectors."\ "Alone?"\ "I have a unique understanding of the collectors, and no other staff could be spared. I apologize for the inconvenience."\ The technician was silent for a moment, eyes narrowed suspiciously. His lips parted briefly, and he said, "This is very unusual. It's only about fourth-hour and the ministry has never before-"\ "I know it's very early, but I assure you this mission is of the utmost importance."\ He suspects something! Dryce's mind screamed. He knows and he's stalling! Perhaps the elders had already discovered the theft!\ The technician backed away, toward his small desk. "I'll just confirm this with the ministry. It will only take a moment."\ "No!" Dryce barked, instantly feeling the force of his own voice. The outburst seemed to startle the other man. "This mission is time sensitive. My opportunity to examine the collectors is extremely limited, and any delay is unacceptable. I'm sure the ministry will transmit the flight plan momentarily, but I must be on my way. I'm sure you don't want to be responsible for the failure of such an important endeavor."\ The lie was so transparent that Dryce knew the man would have to be a fool to believe it. His duplicity was, no doubt, obvious in his eyes or on his face, but the technician looked away and seemed to be considering the situation. Dryce waited for the response and narrowed his remaining options down to one.\ His fists clenched clandestinely, readying for an assault that he hoped would not be necessary. He could disable the small man quickly and relatively silently, he suspected, but that was only a last resort. He could live with being a traitor, and even a thief, but such naked violence was quite another matter. Could he really live with that? Now he held his breath and waited.\ The technician pointed to a lighted corner of the room, not far distant, and traced a path for Dryce to follow. "We have one type-four fueled and ready."\ The man was a fool. "Good. We thank you for your accommodation." Dryce nearly laughed at his use of the word "we," but it added a definite ring of legitimacy.\ The technician led him to the transport-a smallish, bulbous vehicle no more than six meters long, fronted by a thick, transparent canopy-and leaned conspicuously against it. "I'm sure that you're rated to operate a type-four," he said.\ "Obviously." The transport's side ramp was already extended, and Dryce wasted no time in ascending it, gripping the side rail gently, and remembering to lower his head at the top. He was a tall man, and the designers of the original prototype (probably more than a century before) had apparently been on the diminutive side.\ "Supervisor ... Mendoza, is it?"\ "Yes." The impatience was creeping into Dryce's husky voice.\ "When can I expect you to return?"\ Beneath the hairline on the back of Dryce's neck, more beads of sweat began to form. "I'll have the transport back in a matter of hours." This was not a lie, after all, and Dryce delivered the line with vigor. The transport would be back, but he would not be with it.\ The technician turned away slowly, calling back over his shoulder, "Have a pleasant flight, Supervisor," and Dryce relaxed, letting his fists unclench.\ He activated the door mechanism and watched it close behind him, sealing itself with a faint whistle. The atmospheric systems would need no interference from him, and the drive coils (four octagonal antigravity generators positioned under the floor plating) would take only a few moments to spin up. The trip would be by far the longest of his thirty-six year life, but not the first. This time, however, he would be alone.\ For the last time, he checked his nerve, releasing a deep sigh of relief. It was not too late to turn back but then he had never before left a project unfinished. And if he did return to his life, slip the gems quietly back into the D Room and erase all traces of his tampering from Orion's operational matrix, he would always wonder. That alone would be the ultimate insult.\ "Enable uplink with Orion system core," he called aloud, and the transport returned a "chirp" to let him know it had been accomplished. From another pocket of his tunic, he removed a dark-colored object no larger and no thicker than his palm. The Science Ministry's standard-issue portable access device was a simple but useful tool, but Dryce had seen fit to customize his own model. He had improved on the age-old design; the storage capacity had been increased, and the crystal laminate display had been replaced with a basic holographic projection module.\ The transport lurched as the pallet beneath it slid forward onto a track and began the short journey to the lift, which eventually pushed it upward, through a newly opened hatch in the ceiling. The bay he'd just left had already depressurized, and Dryce caught a fleeting glimpse of the technician, protected behind an airlock door beside his desk. The small man nodded and then turned away, no doubt readying the bay for repressurization.\ Dryce took control of the thought-guided interface and effortlessly raised the transport a few meters off the pallet. Seconds later, a quick glance at the status board confirmed that the drive systems were ready for departure. The open maw of the hangar loomed large ahead, with only blackness beyond, and Dryce sent the transport gliding toward it, slowly at first, and then he added speed and altitude. Soon, the interior girders of the bay itself seemed to blend together into a hazy tableau, flashing past with increasing rapidity.\ The tiny vehicle burst forth into a universe of awesome scale. Dryce swiveled his pilot's seat until he could clearly see through the rear viewport. Behind him, the nine-kilometer long, rectangular box that was Ozzaea, the only home he had ever known, was falling away. He had tossed it aside, sacrificed it openly, for a dream, and he could not dwell on the loss. He swiveled the seat 180 degrees again. (Continues...)\ \ \ \ \ Excerpted from TIME BEGINS HERE by T.J. Keogh Copyright © 2010 by T.J. Keogh. Excerpted by permission.\ All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.\ Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site. \ \

Contents Prologue....................xviiPart 1 Observer....................xxiPart 2 Closing the Loop....................75Part 3 The Coming Storm....................147Part 4 Full Circle....................225