Duplicate Traces: The Prime Trace Series, Book Three

By Dennis E. Smirl

Jonathon Endifield was one of those special people who could cross from one alternate universe into another without dying—until he did while returning from a special mission. Now Jate Goldmet and the remaining members of his team want to know how he died and if it could happen to them.

In trying to get answers, Jate and the two surviving members of his team set events into motion that with result in Jate meeting another version of himself—not a twin, but an exact duplicate who wants nothing to do with Jate, his team, or any part of those who can move from one alternate universe to another... Or so he says.

When Jate's employers secretly recruit the other Jate Goldmet into their organization, it opens the possibility that one or both of the Jates will either implode, explode, or simply disappear from any of the infinite number of alternate universes. The stakes have never been higher for Jate, because any mistake could cost him his life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dennis E. Smirl
• Release date: Apr 24, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310632037

Dennis E. Smirl

Dennis E. Smirl has been an Air Force officer, a salesman for a Fortune 500 company, a school psychologist, a computer science instructor at several colleges and universities, and a business owner. Married to his college sweetheart for more than half a century, he has spent time in Mexico, Japan, and South Vietnam, but prefers to take family vacations in the USA and Canada. A writer for as long as he can remember—he attempted a first novel at age ten—his first taste of national publication was a race report written and published in 1965. A science fiction fan for almost the same length of time, Mr. Smirl joined the Science Fiction Book Club when member numbers were much shorter. Beyond his interest in Science Fiction, he has had a lifetime interest in horseback riding, auto racing (as a driver), golf, photography, computers and information processing, and mystery novels. He has written thirteen novels and more than seventy short stories and novellas.

Book preview

DUPLICATE TRACES

Volume III: The Prime Trace Series

A Science Fiction Novel

BY DENNIS E. SMIRL

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without author’s permission, except for minor passages used for the purpose of review. Your respect of the author’s rights is appreciated.

Copyright © 2016 by Dennis E. Smirl. Lost Aardvarks Press. Smashwords Edition.

Published by Dennis E. Smirl at Smashwords

Lost Aardvarks Press

Topeka, KS 66614

[e-mail]

DUPLICATE TRACES

CHAPTER 1

Trace Minus 45, near the southern tip of the Roman

Peninsula, shortly after midnight, 33 Dakkor, 3192

We’re not going to make the portal in time, Genia Kress whispered.

Hush up and keep moving. Akeeta Martensen murmured in reply.

With hand signals, I told both of them to put a lid on it because our pursuers were close and I feared that if they heard us, they’d start shooting again. I also wanted them to keep moving, because Genia was right. We were running out of time.

My portal adept team and I were crawling eastward through an open field of ripening grain. We had a small advantage in that the grain was standing up, we were not, and the night sky was partially occluded by thick clouds. Our night-vision visors required only the smallest amount of light, and the few stars peeking through here and there provided enough to see where we were going. The beings on the other side hadn’t developed the technological advantage of night-vision, but as they were spraying bullets above our heads in random patterns, we were reduced to being one with the earth and hoping that our nanocomps were keeping us headed in the right direction.

They’re shooting again, Genia whispered as several rounds ‘whuppfed’ over our heads.

I knew that.

Hell, we all knew that.

It was time to make decisions and issue orders. Akeeta, Genia, listen up, I whispered. Eduardo and I have to take out that assault vehicle.

I hadn’t asked him, but I was team leader and as far as I was concerned, it wasn’t a democracy. Give us time to circle back to the vehicle to put a couple of stunner mines on it and then you come up fast and buzz the infantry. Aim your beams carefully so they don’t go below waist-high and buzz us while we’re crawling among them.

No problem, Akeeta agreed.

Understood, from Genia.

"That’s a tank, and it could kill us, Eduardo Valimindes whispered in a quavery tenor—which was not his usual range. Wouldn’t it be smarter to just keep moving toward the portal? Or even hide? I mean—"

If we do, we’ll never make the portal in time and we’ll have to wait an hour before it opens again. Our opponents won’t let us hang around that long. They’ll root us out and kill us. Besides, I argued, it’s not a tank, it’s only a little assault vehicle.

"With a big gun," he replied, his pitch remaining in the dog-whistle range. "You have to think of a safer way."

I’ll go with Jate, Akeeta said. Eduardo, you and Genia provide the covering fire.

Okay, I’d only thought it wasn’t a democracy.

Do you have a problem with that? I asked him.

No. But you’re making a mistake. I knew Valimindes wasn’t a coward. But neither was he the hero type. And he obviously wasn’t a chauvinist. If a woman wanted the job…

Let’s do this, I said. We go straight at the assault vehicle, break right and left when we get there, and stick the stunner mines on the armor. No time delay on the fuse.

That may tickle, she replied as we crawled straight toward our enemy.

With infantry so close, they might yank it off if we use a delay.

Good point.

On our knees and elbows, we crawled as quickly as we could, considering that we each had a mine in one hand and a stunner in the other. As we approached the vehicle, it moved toward us, rolling along at about five kilometers per hour. Pacing it were at least a dozen infantrybeings, rifles at the ready.

If I’d stopped to think about it, I’d have considered the plan crazy. To get to the assault vehicle, we had to get through the infantry. To get through the infantry, we’d have to use our stunners on them. When we did, we’d likely hit some and miss some, and the ones we missed would raise an alarm and shoot at us. At that point, the beings in the assault vehicle would try to kill us.

Our only advantage was surprise. Unless the beings that had been pursuing us were seriously paranoid, they probably wouldn’t expect us to turn back and engage them head-on. That could cause a moment of confusion, and in that moment, maybe we could disable the vehicle. The critical element was that Eduardo and Genia would have to neutralize the infantry—because if they missed, Akeeta and I were going to take some serious lumps.

When the vehicle was about twenty-five meters away, I held up a hand and Akeeta stopped beside me. Count to eight, I whispered, and then go. Buzz anything that moves—except me.

Except you… I think I can remember that. Four... five... six....

When she reached eight, we both jumped up and ran toward the vehicle. I sprinted to its right side, the mine in my left hand, and my stunner in my right. I saw a shooter, but I was already past him and turning back to buzz him would have just slowed me down. I saw another shooter—this time between my intended target and me—and I buzzed him in the chest from point blank range. He was going to be unconscious for hours—unless, of course, the assault vehicle ran over him, in which case… I tried not to think about it as I ran up the front of the vehicle and along its side, thankful its designer had equipped it with a rudimentary set of fenders over the clanking treads. I slapped the mine against the armor and the zero-time fuse set it off immediately.

I hadn’t been buzzed in quite a while.

I hadn’t liked it then, and I still didn’t like it.

All I got were a few reflected frequencies from where the inner surface of the mine wasn’t perfectly flat against the armor—but it was more than I wanted. Flapping like a cut-string marionette, I almost fell under the still-moving treads and came within a whisker of dropping my stunner.

I hit the ground hard. My coordination had taken a pounding from the back spray of the mine, but my sense of pain hadn’t. I’d counted at least a dozen infantrybeings and only taken one out. I hadn’t heard as much buzzing from my teammates as I thought I should. When I hit the ground, I flopped onto my back and looked for targets.

Dammit! One of them was standing about half a meter from me and doing his best to plant his bayonet in my belly. Clumsily, I batted the rifle barrel with my left forearm and squeezed the firing stud on my stunner, sweeping the hot, blue beam across his not-quite-human face. He wobbled; the bayonet changed direction, and stuck in the ground halfway between my chest and my right bicep.

Too close!

Too damned close!

Then he fell on top of me. I struggled out from under him, still tingling and twitching from the back spray of the stunner mine, and looked for someone else to fight. I couldn’t find an opponent. Evidently, Genia and Eduardo had done their jobs.

I looked for Akeeta… and didn’t see her.

Akeeta! Check in, I yelled over the rumble of the vehicle’s engine.

No reply.

The vehicle still moved. I knew all the troops inside were asleep, but the driver evidently hadn’t released whatever he or she—or it—used for a throttle. I wondered if the vehicle had run over Akeeta as I ran to where I thought she should be.

She wasn’t there.

I counted three sleeping infantrybeings, close to where she should have been, but no Akeeta. Suddenly, I had an ugly picture in my mind—that the assault vehicle had caught her and was dragging her. I ran after it—had to get close before I saw—

Her left sleeve was caught on a projection sticking out from just above the fender, and she was bouncing against the treads as the machine ground on. Running up the back of the vehicle, I pulled at the sleeve but her armor wouldn’t tear. Finally, I shook it loose and pulled her up on top surface of the vehicle with me.

She wasn’t conscious.

Holding her with my left arm, I slid down the back of the still-moving vehicle and onto the ground. By that time, Eduardo and Genia were only a few steps away.

How is she? Genia asked.

Look what’s happened, Eduardo said. We should have kept running. Now look—

The matter isn’t open for discussion, I snapped. We have twelve minutes to get to the portal, and it’s more than a kilometer away.

I can carry her, Genia said.

She’s my responsibility. I hefted Akeeta into a fireman’s carry, and started jogging toward the portal.

&&&&

Once we were back into Prime Trace, recovered from the effects of portal syndrome, and sure that Akeeta was in the capable hands of the medicos, Eduardo wanted to start up with me again. You made a bad decision, Jate. We should have run. We could have made it.

Wrong. If we’d turned our backs to them, one of us would surely have gotten hit with a shell from that assault vehicle and cut in half. It wasn’t a risk I wanted to take. I had just about stripped out of the portal armor and wanted to be in the decontamination shower more than I wanted to be in an argument.

Jate’s right, Ed, fair-haired Genia said. A couple of missions earlier she’d gotten over a problem with nudity, so she already had a good lather working. The one thing those critters didn’t expect was for Akeeta and Jate to come straight at them. It gave us the element of surprise. Otherwise—

"Akeeta got the otherwise. Or have you forgotten how she looked when the medicos took her away?" Eduardo was the last one into the shower, so we’d left him the smallest piece of antibacterial/virucidal soap.

She had an accident, I argued. It was not because of anything the enemy did. If she hadn’t gotten her sleeve caught, we would have come away clean.

But we didn’t. Maybe because he got the smallest piece of soap, Eduardo took the quickest shower and got his pick of the towels.

He chose the fluffiest one. I chose to continue scrubbing because I feared the possibility of not washing deadly microorganisms down the drain.

Jate, what on all the earths went wrong out there? Matthew Samaras asked. Even though he was in the shower tent with us, he avoided the sprays because he was wearing clothes. He was also the boss.

We missed the assignment. We came in just as planned, but they had a gun taped to Melindokourous’ head. When I buzzed his guard, the gun went off. I don’t know—maybe they had the trigger rigged so that if the shooter got buzzed, it went off anyway. Bottom line is that our guy is dead.

What about his corpse?

What about it? I saw his brains fly across the room. The job was over right there and I wasn’t worried about meat that was getting cool. All I was concerned about was getting my team back safely.

Matthew rubbed his temples with both hands. You have such a horrid way with words, Jate. But, you should have returned with the body. You should have thought—

There was no mention about returning with a corpse in the ops plan. I was getting uncomfortable. I don’t have a problem with nudity unless I’m naked and somebody who isn’t is asking me tough questions. Genia must have been feeling the same way, because even though she was still soapy, she wrapped herself in a towel. That made me even more uncomfortable as I felt responsible.

I know it wasn’t in the ops plan, Matthew said, pointing a finger at me and then stopping because he knew how much I disliked it. And maybe it should have been. But you’re an experienced team leader, and I should be able to depend on you to think beyond the plan when things fall apart. I can’t fault you for what happened, but this matter is hot, politically, and people are going to be looking for someone to burn.

What’s that supposed to mean?

If they start looking too hard, I may have to point them at you.

CHAPTER 2

Prime Trace, near the southern tip of the Roman

Peninsula, shortly before dawn, 33 Dakkor, 3192

And screw you, too, Matthew.

I dried off, so steamed I didn’t need a towel. As I dressed, I noticed that Genia was still upset. I didn’t enjoy Matthew’s visit all that much, I said, turning my back in order to minimize her discomfort.

And I didn’t like it at all, she replied. If he was going to come in here with that load of crap, he could have at least waited until we were dressed.

Chewing someone out when they’re naked adds a lot to the effect, I said. It puts the person getting the chewing at a real disadvantage.

Do you think he planned it that way? Eduardo asked. He was dressed in tan company issue, his black, curly hair was styled and dried, and he was waiting for the two of us before we all headed for the dining tent.

Absolutely, I said. Anything he said could have been covered in the post-mission debriefing. Except, maybe, for the bit about throwing someone to the wolves.

Namely me.

He wanted us at a disadvantage, because he was disappointed with our results, I added.

So now what? Genia asked.

We don’t worry about it. We go eat and drink and we don’t think about it or talk about it. And then we go to debriefing. I mean, how bad can it be?

Genia was last to get dressed. Then we headed for the dining tent. Halfway there, someone I didn’t know—a younger guy about my size who was also wearing company issue—stepped in my way. Come with me, Goldmet, he said imperiously. You and your team are to be debriefed immediately.

Later, I said, smiling and stepping around him. My team and I are going to have something to eat and drink. Then, we’ll come to debriefing.

He grabbed my left arm. Then he shoved his face too close to mine. "I didn’t ask for backtalk from you, team leader. Debriefing starts now."

Someone should have told him that I don’t like being grabbed. I reached down and peeled his fingers off my biceps. I’d stopped smiling.

Sorry, friend, but none of us have had anything to eat or drink for more than twelve hours. We’ve been chased by an assault vehicle with a big gun, shot at by infantry, and crawled more than two kilometers on our hands and knees while beings we didn’t know were trying to kill us. Our personal needs are going to be seen to, and then we’ll come to debriefing.

He grabbed me right at the point from which I’d just removed his hand and squeezed harder, almost pulling me off balance. You don’t make the rules around here, team leader, so—

I could have let him finish his statement but I knew it wouldn’t be a gem of eloquence. Instead, I drove a solid right into his solar plexus. He hit the ground and lay there, moaning and shaking, and covering his belly with his hands.

Kneeling beside him, I placed a gentle hand on his chest. Manners, my young friend, are the absolute essence of polite interaction. I smiled down at him. Or, if you don’t know how to be polite, then you need to be able to kick my ass before I can kick yours.

We left him there and went to eat. The food was tasty and filling, but we hadn’t finished the meal before Matthew interrupted. Jate, what in all the worlds is wrong with you? He stood on the other side of the table from me, red-faced and shaking with rage. Have you completely lost your mind or are you just more stupid then even I imagined?

I looked up with a smile. To answer your first question—that is, what’s wrong with me—I’m just tired and hungry and thirsty, but not as hungry and thirsty as I was a little while ago. As to your second question, maybe I really am the village idiot.

He leaned toward me, his face growing even darker. You’re not amusing.

Neither is someone who’s trying to manhandle me. I simply administered a brief lesson in manners to a fellow who was obviously in need of further education.

You just assaulted the— there was a blur of sound my nanocomps didn’t translate. "—and you are going to answer for it. More importantly, I’ve been sent here to deliver you to the debriefing. Immediately. No arguments. Get up and get moving."

From a pocket I hadn’t noticed, he produced a stunner and pointed it at me. I didn’t like that. Matthew, have you lost your mind?

No, but I am losing— I didn’t let him finish. I dashed a cup of hot coffee in his face and slapped the stunner from his hand before he could react. Then I grabbed his shirtfront, yanked him across the table, and slammed him to the floor.

Listen to me, I said in a voice only slightly above a whisper while I held on to his shirt and ground my knee into his chest. "There are ways things are done around here. You treat portal adepts with a modicum of respect because there aren’t enough to go around and you need each and every one of us. Now, I’ve had a very bad day and I’m way the hell out of sorts because we just came back from an operation that was a lot tougher than anyone told us it would be. This is not to mention Akeeta, who may be seriously injured, but about whom we know nothing because evidently no one thinks we could care deeply enough about our team member to be kept informed. So, we are going to be left alone to finish this meal and then we’ll present ourselves for debriefing."

I took a breath and let it out slowly. Now, I don’t know who’s encouraging you to behave like some comic-opera martinet, but it stops right here. Go back to the debriefing area; tell the people who want to talk to us that we’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Engage them in polite conversation so they don’t get bored. You might even tell them a few jokes. And Matthew, don’t ever point a stunner at me again, or I will damage you permanently.

I let go of his shirt. As he got up, Matthew wiped a few drops coffee from his face, and then favored me with the most intense look of anger I’d ever experienced. This is the last time you touch me, Jate. If it happens again you’ll regret it more than you will— He bit back his comment, turned, and stormed out of the dining area.

After he was gone, Eduardo asked, Which threat should I believe the most?

I tried to smile. Matthew and I have never gotten along particularly well. Lately, things have been... strained between us.

I expected repercussions from my encounter with Matthew. Still, I thought my madness would be tolerated because of the very nature of the job. Portal adepts—in any population, human or otherwise—usually occur somewhere in the neighborhood of one in several million individuals. And in any population, some who could be portal adepts are going to be too young, some too old, some too crippled, and some too mentally handicapped to be of any use. That makes healthy, adult portal adepts rarer than rare.

And, when a society with portal technology can field only a relative handful of portal adepts, it doesn’t establish a portal adept army. At best, it maintains a few snatch-and-run teams who can slip into another Trace, steal or retrieve something valuable enough to make it worth the trip, and get back without getting caught and killed. I knew how it worked, and, after several dozen trips through a working portal, I was still alive—and still a valuable asset to my Minoan employers. So I didn’t expect what was about to happen.

&&&&

There were more people in the debriefing tent than I expected. And except for Matthew, I didn’t recognize any of them.

Sit, one of the ones I didn’t recognize said as we entered. He was older, silver-haired with a ruddy complexion, occupying a chair at the center of the group facing us, and wearing a stern expression.

Using the phrase, ‘Please have a seat’, or something similar, would suggest that you might be a person of some class and breeding, I answered still standing. ‘Sit’ is something an ill-mannered rustic says to a dog.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked though if I should.

Do I care? From where I’m standing you look like a rude old man who is sitting down when I’m the one who’s tired. I was on a roll. In my years of working for the Minoans, I had been shot at so many times I couldn’t remember, hit solidly several of those times, spent months in hospitals recovering from my wounds and getting acquainted with replacement organs, and now some dipsquat was talking to me as though I was his dog.

You should. My name is Adrio Makarakanakes. I am—how shall I put it—the person in charge of every aspect of portal activity and technology.

In other words, you’re the head cheese.

Not in those words, team leader, but you seem to have some faint glimmering of the concept.

I shrugged. You may be the head cheese, but you’re still a rude old man. I didn’t want him to think I was sucking up.

He shook his head slowly as though in pain. "Please have a seat, team leader—and the rest of your team, as well."

Thank you. Hey, I can be civilized, too.

Once we were seated, Makarakanakes said, This is a formal debriefing of mission DKX-2187. You will be first to speak, team leader. Please start at the beginning and tell us everything in the order in which it occurred.

I told them all the things that had happened, starting with how the seers had found our man in the other Trace. Surprisingly, everyone listened politely until I was finished, and then Makarakanakes asked Genia and Eduardo to tell their versions.

Once they were finished, he turned back to me. Let’s review the activities surrounding the point at which you lost the hostage in greater detail. Exactly what did happen and in what sequence?

I thought about it for a moment. Each of us took a window, and on my mark, crashed through the glass and entered the room. We each had a field of fire to cover, and within one and one-half seconds, the opposition was neutralized. The hostage was in my quadrant and I stunned his captor immediately. However, although my target was rendered unconscious, the weapon secured to the hostage’s head discharged, killing him. Having lost any possibility of rescuing the hostage, we exited the area forthwith.

Did you not see that a firearm was secured to the hostage’s head before you stunned his captor?

No, I did not. It was behind his head and not in my field of view.

Did you see whatever it was they used to affix the firearm?

Again, no. The tape was only on the back of the hostage’s head. From my angle, I couldn’t see it. Check my mission recorder. It will confirm what I saw.

We’ve already done that. He turned to Genia. Could you see the firearm?

No.

To Eduardo: Could you see the weapon, and that it was taped to the captive’s head?

Yes.

Did you warn your team leader of the situation?

He shook his head. There wasn’t time. We entered the room and buzzed the occupants immediately and without speaking. That was the way we’d planned the operation.

But if you had used individual initiative, concentrated instead on the safety of the hostage, could you have warned your team leader?

No, I could not. As I said, everything happened so quickly. In that first second, we were following patterns instilled during our training.

Thank you. He turned his attention back to me. Citizen Valimindes said you ‘buzzed’ the occupants of the room. What does that mean?

If he was the boss, he knew damn well what that meant. "If there’s anyone here who doesn’t know how things work, we passed the beams of our stunners across everyone in the room."

Even the hostage?

Yes.

He leaned forward. Would you mind explaining the rationale for that action?

It’s how we do things. When a team is trying to rescue a hostage in an operation where there is a possibility that the hostage will be harmed, the standard procedure is to render everyone unconscious immediately.

Assuming that you manage a successful rescue, what do you then do with an unconscious hostage?

Normally, we would awaken the hostage by unbuzzing him or her.

What does that mean, in language that everyone here can understand? And how is that done?

I couldn’t tell where he was heading with his questions, but I had a feeling it wasn’t going to be good for me. One selects the reversal setting on the stunner and passes the beam across the individual. The individual returns to consciousness rapidly.

He tapped his fingers on the top of his desk. What if that option is not available?

I can’t imagine when it would not.

He leaned forward in his chair. Assume you have a stunner malfunction.

I would use someone else’s stunner.

What if that was not possible?

That’s too unlikely. That would assume that everyone’s stunner malfunctioned. I’m not willing—

Make that assumption. It was an order, not a request.

In that completely unlike and ridiculous case we would transport the unconscious hostage back to the portal.

Grinning wolfishly, he continued, "So you are capable of bringing an inert body back to the portal."

If necessary. Now I knew where he was going—and I didn’t like it.

If that is so, then you would have been capable of bringing the remains of the hostage back, even though he was dead.

Yes. But I chose not to exercise that option considering the fact that we expected serious opposition on our way out.

Why?

Why, to which part?

He tapped the table impatiently. Let’s deal with the first part. Why did you not return with the hostage’s body?

Because bringing the corpse back didn’t make a lot of sense. Besides, that contingency was not in the ops plan.

You speak of the ops plan. Did you do everything according to the ops plan?

I nodded. Yes, because deviating from it, without cause, usually leads to a disaster.

Are you saying you never deviate from an ops plan?

Whoa!

Land mine in the way!

Of course not, but I do so infrequently, and only when all preplanned contingencies have been eliminated. It is at that point that the successful team leader improvises and hopes he or she has the skills and luck to get his or her team back safely.

Was the return of the corpse in the ops plan?

I believe I’ve already responded to that. Again, the answer is no. If there were problems with the plan, it was that we underestimated the opposition’s willingness to engage in lethal action.

So, we’re back to this. Everyone in that room, other than the members of your team, was either dead or unconscious. You were left to your own decision at that point, whether or not to return the corpse for a proper burial.

Without thinking, I nodded again. I was getting angry that my reflexes were betraying me. That’s correct.

Then let me try to put this in perspective. If the hostage had been alive but unconscious, you would have brought him back. As he was dead, you decided not to return the corpse to Prime Trace. As a result, the family could not conduct proper memorial services. Do you not consider such an action insensitive?

I paused for a moment, choosing my words. Not under the circumstances. As we made our way back to the portal, we became heavily involved with light infantry and an assault vehicle. Having a corpse to transport, along with confronting a competent military force, would have been an extra, and, in my opinion, perilous, burden to bear.

He leaned forward. But you would have been willing to bear that burden if the captive had been alive, but unconscious.

Absolutely, I snapped. But you’re talking about an entirely different set of circumstances.

I’m not sure I am team leader. Enlighten me.

With the appearance of the armor, our situation became even more perilous. Had we been burdened with an unconscious hostage, it would have impeded our progress, leaving everyone, including the hostage, at much greater risk of being captured, wounded, or killed. However, I would have accepted that level of peril had the hostage been alive. I was not willing to take that kind of risk for a corpse.

I wonder how the survivors of the victim would feel about your decision.

I took a slow breath before I spoke. "Citizen Makarakanakes, I mourn with the family the loss of their member and extend my deepest sympathy for their loss. I would also hope they would understand the level