Story Excerpt

The pungent odor of smelling salts jolted Maxwell to immediate attention. He struggled to sit up but found himself strapped to a medical gurney in a featureless white room. Intravenous tubes and dozens of sensor wires snaked away to an array of equipment at the edge of his vision. They weren't what panicked him. The air was. He held his breath and scanned the room. His air-filtration mask was nowhere to be seen. They're trying to kill me.

A stern, middle-aged woman with short hair, a sharp nose, and no mask leaned over him. Her barking voice sliced through his lingering mental haze. “Breathe. The air here is safe.” She mimed taking a deep breath.

Maxwell then noticed no one in the room was wearing a mask. He gasped and inhaled deeply. Dry and sterile, but it didn't burn his lungs. Filtered air. What kind of place can afford to filter all of its air?

The woman snapped her fingers next to his right ear. "Maxwell Jason Pierce, can you understand me?"

He grunted, blinking against the harsh light. “Lady, if I could understand women, I wouldn’t still be running from three ex-wives.” He flashed her a charming grin, “…and countless girlfriends.”

She straightened. “I am Dr. Laura Taylor, head of Project Rollback. You’re at the Chronoport Authority facility in Tycho City.”

“I’m on… the Moon?” That's why no one is wearing a mask!

“Pay attention. Your flight is in fifteen minutes and there is much to do. Congratulations on being selected as a volunteer chrononaut. Your test results indicate you have the Hyperactive TP53 Tumor Suppressor gene. We’ve also injected you with a DNA repair booster. Questions?”

“I’m getting a reduced prison sentence for this, right?”

“Deliver the information and you’ll be a hero to all mankind. If you survive, we'll petition for an early release.”

Dread seized his gut. If I survive?

She briefed him while orderlies wheeled him into the hangar. “The flight is automated. However, if something goes wrong, you’ll need to rely on your experience as a pilot to control the chronopod.”

Maxwell gulped. If it's automated, there’s no need to tell her I’ve never flown anything larger than a paper airplane. For a chance at early prison release, who wouldn't lie?

Technicians dressed him in a flight suit and strapped him into the chair of a time capsule. The hatch clanged shut, and screens flickered to life. A tinny voice spoke in his ear. "Pilot, remain seated at all times. Sensors in the seat activate the controls. We can't have you floating around, bumping them during freefall."

"What does that mean?" No one responded. His skin tingled and his hair stood on end when the capsule was loaded into the breach of a magnetic railgun.

Now I understand why they asked about metal implants.

A computerized female voice spoke through the speakers in his helmet. “Launching in 3…2...1.”

There was a jolt like an elevator starting its ascent, pressing him into the seat. Through the tiny windows, Maxwell glimpsed the Moon’s surface rushing by before being hurled into the black void. Slowly, bright points of starlight emerged.

Out the port side transparent aluminum window was the choked yellow-brown dustball of a dying planet Earth.

The time capsule rotated. He was pressed into his seat while the thrusters fired. “Deorbit maneuver complete," the female voice said. "Engaging temporal drive.”

An eerie blue glow filled the capsule while he heard, and felt, a thrum increasing in tempo. “Current date: 17 April 2065. Temporal trajectory calculated. Initiating reverse time-flow.”

A mind-bending jolt smeared and blue-shifted the stars. The capsule shuddered while the temporal engines throttled to maximum. The reversing star field cycled faster and faster as the deafening thrum peaked. Glowing blue radiation overwhelmed his vision.

“Temporal regression point of 6 November 2034 achieved," the voice announced. "Disengaging temporal drive.” With a sudden lurch, the chaos ceased. The engines powered down with a spinning whine.

Shining like a beacon in the darkness, the front viewport showed a blue-green Earth wrapped in wispy white clouds. Maxwell couldn't remember the last time something so beautiful brought tears to his eyes.

“All systems nominal. Commencing orbital insertion and landing procedures.”

Earth expanded until continents and oceans filled every window. A faint howl grew into a deafening roar. Flames wrapped around the windows. “Hello, computer. Slow down."

No change in speed.

"Throttle down." He clutched the sides of his chair. His voice pitched up in urgency. "We’re going too fast."

No response.