Gates of Rome

CHAPTER 82

AD 54, outside Rome

Dr Rashim Anwar looked at the old man, stick-thin arms wrapped round knees that bulged like arthritic knucklebones.

They were sitting together in the shade of the trees. He sipped ice-cold Protein-Plus solution from his cell-powered thermos flask, offered it to the young Indian girl beside him.

‘He…?’ he said, pointing at the old man. ‘He’s me?’

Maddy nodded. ‘The Exodus group’s translation overshoots those beacons you were putting out.’

‘But… it shouldn’t. They should anchor the particle signal. They should — ’

‘Mass,’ the old Rashim hissed. ‘Mass. We miscalculate… you and me. We get it wrong. Yes!’

The young man shook his head vehemently, his ponytail swinging like a pennant. ‘No, I’ve calculated and recalculated the figures. Run simulation after simulation on the total mass we’re planning to send.’

‘It changes!’

‘Changes?’

‘The translation day is hurried f-forward… candidates changed… last-minute panic. It’s a mess!’ The old man muttered more, but it was lost in his gurgling throat.

‘Why?’

The old man was muttering a one-sided conversation with himself. The young scientist leaned forward and grabbed a stick-thin wrist. ‘Tell me! Why is Exodus hurried forward? What happened?’

The old man’s black and brown peg-tooth smile looked revolting. ‘The end… young me!’

Maddy looked at him. ‘Did you say “ the end ”?’

He cackled. A sad, dry laugh. ‘We finally do it… wipe ourselves out.’

‘What?’

‘Kill the planet with drips of poison… then finally kill ourselves. Tidy finish, hmm?’

‘What is it, bombs?’ said Maddy. ‘Is that “the end”? Is that what happens? A nuclear war?’

Rashim rocked gently on his haunches, distracted as he spoke. ‘Oh no! Bombs some of us could survive. But this? No… no-no-no. No one survives this!’

‘What is it?’

The old Rashim grinned. ‘Elley! Elley! Elley!’

‘Who’s Elley?’ asked Sal.

‘He means an ELE. An Extinction Level Event,’ replied Rashim. ‘Like the K-T event wiped out the dinosaurs: an asteroid.’ The young man shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised, the way things are. It’s — ’

‘Not an asteroid,’ said the old Rashim. He giggled. ‘It is God! Punishing us with a pestilence! Yes!’

‘You mean a virus?’

The old man cocked his head. ‘A pestilence.’

Maddy sipped from the flask and passed it back to the young Rashim. ‘You need to know that your Project Exodus will cause a time wave that will completely rewrite history. You should know there’s no New York, there’s no America in 2001, thanks to you.’

‘It’s all jungle,’ said Sal. ‘Nothing.’

‘Christ! Time contamination is exactly what we want to achieve! The future’s a dead end for us! Don’t you see? There’s no way forward for mankind! Only backwards! The goal of Exodus is to export the executive branch of the United States back to Roman times. We’ve got weapons, we’ve got medicines, technology databases, experts in absolutely every field! Soldiers — ’

‘Well, whatever you intended Exodus to be… it ends up a disaster.’ She nodded at the old man beside her, once again lapsed into distracted muttering to himself. ‘That wreck of a human over there is the sole survivor of Project Exodus. That’s you, Dr Anwar! That how you want to end up?’

‘Then I’ll go back and suggest we reduce the translation mass. We can take less and that’ll reduce the potential error margin!’

‘You’re not going back,’ said Maddy.

‘What?’

‘I can’t let you go. Your people have to think your deployment technique failed. That your translation method is too unreliable to continue any further with.’

Rashim swallowed nervously. ‘Please… I have to get back.’

‘Sorry,’ she replied. ‘This is the way it goes.’ She looked across at Bob and Liam inspecting the display screen of one of the beacon rods and the lab unit looking anxious as if they intended to use the thing as a cricket bat. ‘We’re using your beacons to try and get back to our time. To 2001… and I’m afraid you’re going to have to come with us.’

Bob finished tapping in the data on the small touch-screen and a light flickered green from the top of the rod. ‘This should now be sending a thread-signal of particles that can be detected by our transmission array.’

‘You shouldn’t be interfering with that!’ complained the lab unit. ‘It’s not yours!’ SpongeBubba stuck out a petulant lip. ‘Very naughty!’

‘Do you think it will work?’ asked Liam.

Bob shrugged. ‘If the equipment in the archway is still functioning and undamaged and there is enough power remaining to deploy a time window, then there is no reason this should not work.’

‘My skippa will be very angry with you!’ chimed the lab unit.

Liam gave Bob a tired smile. ‘What would we do without you?’

Bob missed the affectionate rhetoric. ‘Grow another unit?’