Time Trek

By Eric Scott

Time Trek is a novel set in the 31st century where genetic engineering has eliminated disease; greed and violence have also been eliminated from humanity and life is perfect. But all genetic experiments did not go to plan. So when the evil, dangerous mutant Darkon, one of the rare failed experiments at the University of Advanced Genetics, steals a time machine and escapes back in time, the history of the world is threatened.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Acorn Books
• Release date: Jun 11, 2014
• ISBN: 9781783333653

Eric Scott

Eric Scott is a published novelist with adult, teenage and primary school books to his name as well as two editions of one-act Plays for teenagers. Most of his plays have been performed in amateur and professional venues. He does a regular theatre review and preview spot on the Spectrum arts program on radio 4EB, 98.1 FM, at noon each Friday and runs his own entertainment web page at www.absolutetheatre.com.au He is also an actor and director with more than 50 productions under his belt.

Book preview

coincidental.

Chapter One

Zara was sitting on the ground, her legs, sheathed in blue silk tights, crossed. Her head was tilted back with her short fair hair glinting in the sunlight. Her eyes were closed.

‘Concentrate,’ said Zoltan, sitting by her, his hands clasped across his knee. ‘Concentrate really hard.’

‘I am,’ complained Zara, opening her dark-brown eyes to give her companion a frustrated glare. ‘Why don’t you try it for a change?’

‘It’s not my job,’ said Zoltan. ‘Race memories are your province. I’m just a simple chemist.’

‘I wish I were,’ grumbled Zara. ‘It’s hard work trying to recall memories from your genes. Telepathy is much easier, believe me.’

‘You’ll be pleased when you have mastered it,’ said Zac the third member of the group, a boy, dressed like the others in a gold-flecked, short smock made from university-grown fibres. A bright red cotton belt gave him a touch of individuality.

He looked skywards, distracted momentarily by the hum of the solar jets lined up patiently waiting their turn to join the flight paths that led to the city suburbs, just ten green kilometres away from the Great Euroton University of Advanced Genetics.

This had become an afternoon ritual soon after solar-powered jet engines had made flying simple and accessible to everyone over the age of 16, an age the three Zs would reach in a few months’ time.

Only the elderly and the enthusiasts used road transport, which had been allowed back onto the planet once the genetic engineers had perfected a natural, non-polluting fuel.

‘I don’t think I’ll ever master the technique’, groaned Zara "I can t see much point to it either.’

‘It’s a wonderful achievement,’ said Zac, bringing mind back from the sky. ‘I’m nothing but a walking encyclopaedia. I wish I’d been given your telepathy and recall.’ He sighed. ‘Imagine if I could combine my knowledge with your powers.’

‘Maybe you will one day,’ said Zara, opening her eyes again. ‘Professor Kane must have had something in mind when he created us all in the same batch. There must have been some master plan.’

The three of them turned their gaze on the university, with its buildings of white stone and an occasional gleaming gold alloy roof breaking the spread of orange ceramic tiles.

In the year 3019 the university was a monument to natural technology. Inside, the exploitation of air and light, through skylights, widows and cavities, kept the temperature at an even 25 degrees Celsius all the year round. Lecture rooms, offices, and laboratories led off from the gently curving corridors, and students, young and old, strode purposefully, but not hurrying, along the sound- reducing clay brick floors.

Professor Andon Kane, head of the university, was working hard in his own laboratory, unaware of time and people. He was completing a secret project that would revolutionise life on the planet earth.

A burst of laughter from outside drifted through an open skylight and broke his concentration. He lifted his head, the laughter reminding him of his other special project - the Z batch,

Outside, Zoltan was tired of the distractions. He rolled over and lay on his stomach, digging his fingers into the two-centimetre-high cushion of grass that was soft, strong and never needed cutting.

‘That’s enough,’ he said. ‘Discussion over; back to the exercise. ‘

Zara sighed. ‘All right,’ she said, closing her eyes again. The boys watched with interest as her brows furrowed in concentration. She sat for several seconds and then the furrows lifted and a grin spread across her face.

‘It’s coming,’ she said. ‘It’s misty, but it’s coming. I can see soldiers... in short combat skirts, metal armour... steel swords.’ She shuddered in disgust. ‘They must be Romans,’ she added. ‘They’re marching in ranks across sand...’

‘Hey, that’s radiant, Zara,’ said Zac. ‘Egypt around 42 BC. Mark Antony’s battle against Octavius.’

‘Could be,’ said Zara. ‘I can see a city in the distance and more soldiers, only they are different - different faces, colours. They seem to be led by a woman.’

‘Cleopatra,’ said Zac confidently. ‘That’s who that is. It would fit in with your ancestry-Mediterranean. Rome, the country was called then. Later it was... Italy, until the states combined into Great Euroton. Fascinating.’

Zara smiled happily at her success. Then the smile left her face and her brows creased into a frown again. She opened her eyes and looked at the boys.

‘The image is gone,’ she said. ‘There’s something wrong.’

‘Then or now?’ asked Zac.

‘I’m not sure,’ said Zara. ‘But I felt pain. Someone has been hurt.’

‘How hurt?’ asked Zoltan.

‘Badly and deliberately,’ replied Zara.

‘Violence!’ said Zac in horror.

Violence did not fit easily in the superbly landscaped grounds in which the children were sat. The natural shapes of lawns, treescapes and flower-beds created a serene environment. They had been designed and grown in the biogenetic department to create an aura of tranquillity.

Zara scrambled to her feet and looked around. ‘It’s so strong,’ she said, and bit her lower lip in consternation.

‘It must be in the past,’ said Zac. ‘In the battle... one of your ancestors. It couldn’t be now... could it?’

Zara closed her eyes again and her friends looked on puzzled, for violence was so unusual in their time.

Professor Kane’s face was set in intense concentration as he made notes. He put his pen down and looked intently at the complicated-looking wristwatch lying at his side. He took measurements, wrote them down and then lifted up his eyeglass and peered, one-eyed, into the works of the watch.

He put down the glass and smiled and then began to write enthusiastically once more in his notebook. He was too absorbed in his work to notice the laboratory door slide silently open. A man entered. He was in his mid-thirties, tall, slim, and dressed in a light-blue, silky-cotton one-piece suit. A black chevron slashed his left sleeve.

His hair was short and his face unlined and animated. His cheeks, however, were flushed and his eyes were shining with an unnatural excitement.

‘Professor,’ he called, taking quick, short strides towards the table.

Kane looked up, startled by the rapid approach of the man, but he quickly recovered his wits and slipped the timepiece into the top drawer of his table. He also closed the notebook and leaned his elbow casually over the cover in an attempt at concealment, but the man had amazingly fast reflexes and his eyes missed nothing.

‘What is it now, Darkon?’ asked Kane with a trace of annoyance in his voice.

Darkon’s eyes gleamed even more, which brought a tremor of fear to the Professor.

‘I’ve just created a grand scheme. A wonderful project,’ said Darkon.

Sadness clouded Professor Kane’s eyes and he shook his head slowly and looked Darkon straight in the eye. ‘No more schemes. I told you.’

‘I know,’ said Darkon impatiently. ‘But we can make billions. It’s brilliant. The best I’ve come up with yet. All I have to do is buy...’

Professor Kane cut him off. ‘Won’t it ever sink in?’ he asked, exasperated. ‘There is no room for profiteering in our society.’ He banged the table top. ‘It’s taken centuries to breed greed out of humanity and now you...’ He sighed.

Darkon exploded with anger, his face turning a vivid red.

‘It’s ridiculous,’ he spluttered. ‘Ludicrous. Why create me if there’s no use for me? You should have terminated me when I was born.’ He stopped and breathed heavily, looking down at the floor.

Kane stood up. ‘Termination!’ he exclaimed. ‘A hundred years ago, maybe but we don’t treat mistakes like that now.’

‘Mistakes,’ said Darkon bitterly.

Professor Kane’s face softened. He walked around the table and put his hands on Darkon’s shoulders. ‘Don’t be so bitter,’ he said a gentler tone to his voice. ‘You’ve improved tremendously in the past eight months. The new treatment is working...’ Darkon looked disbelievingly at him. ‘It really is,’ insisted Kane. ‘One day you’ll be free to join real society. For the moment... at least you have some sort of freedom, not like most experiments that went wrong.’

Darkon shrugged off the friendly approach. ‘I don’t know what’s worse,’ he said, ‘to be locked in Sanctuary, or to live in semi-freedom with the frustration of knowing I have a brilliant business brain that has no place in the world.’

‘But there’s more to it than that and you know it,’ said Kane. ‘You know why you’re here. You know why you’re receiving treatment. You have powers you couldn’t even dream of...’

‘You keep saying that,’ said Darkon, his anger giving way to an eager, puppy-like fawning. ‘But when will I find out about them? When will you tell me the whole truth?’

‘Soon enough. You must trust me,’ said Kane.

Darkon’s face blackened into anger again. ‘Always soon enough,’ he said softly, but with a dangerous edge to his voice, ‘always soon enough. Well, one day...’ his voice rose, ‘one day it will be soon enough.’ He thrust his face forward, almost butting Kane on the nose. The professor drew back, awkward, uncertain how to deal with this failed genetic experiment. Thoughts of a tranquillising skinshot went through his mind, but a knocking made them both whirl round and stare at the door.

‘Come in.’ Kane, relieved, raised his voice loud enough to be heard through the alloy-skinned door. It slid open and two laboratory attendants came hurrying through, both gasping for breath.

‘The... the... the...’ The man was too breathless to set out his message.

‘Slow down,’ said Kane. ‘Slow down. Take a breath.’ The man slowly took in a few deep breaths.

‘Why the panic?’ asked Kane.

The man’s face took on a stern look. ‘The cryogenic lab. There’s big trouble. You have to come. Quickly.’

‘It’s serious,’ said the other man. ‘An explosion...’

‘Right, let’s go,’ said Kane, and moved towards the door. The two lab assistants followed him, but he stopped and looked back. Darkon was standing close by the table. Kane’s eyes flickered to his notebook. Darkon gave a glimmer of a smile.

‘Professor,’ urged the lab assistant. ‘It’s an emergency.’ He looked imploringly at Kane, but the Professor’s first thoughts were for his notebook. He moved back towards the table, but the second assistant grabbed his arm. ‘Someone might die.’

Kane hesitated. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can, Darkon,’ he said. ‘Go to your quarters. I’ll talk to you later. ‘

Darkon smiled. ‘Of course, Professor,’ he said, but he did not move.

Kane and the attendants hurried out through the door as Darkon watched them with a new-found arrogance. As the door slid shut, Darkon picked up the notebook and began to scan the opening pages. His eyebrows rose and he went behind the table and sprawled in Kane’s chair. He began to read.

He was still reading, fascinated and unbelieving, twenty minutes later when Professor Kane returned. The scientist stood just inside the door and spoke.