From Time To Time

By Paul Kater

Cordelia Brown works as a technician in a time-machine factory. It's not her dream job but she'd get there if the owner of the company hadn't made a pass at her that had devastating consequences.

After stealing a time-machine, Cordelia now hides somewhere in history, hoping no one will come after her.

Luck is on her side but at some point things start going wrong. When even David, the love of her life, is abducted, the time has come when Cordelia has to take drastic steps to save his and also her own life. Once she finds out it's the company owner's family who is behind everything, things get even more complicated.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paul Kater
• Release date: Jan 11, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393555957

Paul Kater

Paul Kater was born in the Netherlands in 1960. He quickly developed a feel for books and languages but ended up in the IT business despite that. Books and languages never ceased to fascinate him, so since 2003 he's been actively writing, encouraged by friends on the internet. The internet is the reason why most of his work is in English. A friend asking for writing help is why some of his writing is now also in Dutch. Paul currently lives in Cuijk, the Netherlands, with his books, possibly with cats, and the many characters he's developed in the past years, who claim he is a figment of their imagination.

Book preview

1. Cordelia Violet Lexington

Cordelia hit the box with the directional controls. It jammed, as it did so often these days. She was glad today it didn't do so in a precarious situation, contrary to several other times.

I need to fix you, Cordelia told the box that rattled ominously after a second slap. She lifted the cover of the box and peered inside. Cordelia knew that getting the directional control-box fixed was a priority on her list. It had been a priority for about a week now - or was that two weeks?

I agree, Norbert said from the hidden speaker. The built-in system intelligence knew when to speak and when to be quiet. I would advise you to go home and have a knowledgeable person look at it.

Cordelia glanced to the corner of the machine from where Norbert spoke to her. Of course. You know what will happen then, don't you? They will be waiting for me, arrest me for stealing the unit and that other thing, and undo all the beautifications I added over time. And what makes you think I need a 'knowledgeable person'?

Beautifications... Norbert's tone made it clear he didn't agree with her choice of words. I told you before that the interior of this Space-Time Anomaly Replicator has been...

Yeah, yeah... defaced more than you care, I know. We've been there, remember? Now let me get this lever where it needs to go... Cordelia leaned against the metal stick and pushed. The slight bend in the stick showed she had done this quite often, and also, as quite often, it clicked into place.

Originally this was much easier, Norbert commented while Cordelia sat down in her seat and checked the controls.

Don't give me that again, she growled. "We're going home. Well, not home home but the other one." She set the dials, tapped a series of coordinates onto a keyboard and pushed the button that simply said Go.

The display on her left, which had shown a large forest, went dark. All sounds stopped as if Cordelia had suddenly gone deaf. She knew the signs and waited for the slight tremor in her chair that told her the journey was over. The display stayed dark, which was normal since they were in the cellar of her current house. Sounds returned as the force field, that kept the STAR in one piece, fell away. At the same moment, the interior lights came on.

Cordelia reached for her purse and pulled out her trusty notebook. She wrote down the time and location she had just left behind. Keeping track of things was important in her business, which was one of a kind. Too bad this time didn't rely on sensible electronics but since they didn't exist yet, she had to conform to local standards. She considered it a lucky circumstance that she had very nice handwriting. After copying the information on a bit of lesser quality paper as well, Cordelia shut down the main systems.

Here we are.

I detect that one of your friends of ill repute is waiting at the front door, Norbert announced.

Thank you for that. Cordelia got up and sighed. That's Brown, which means I go back to the stiff corsets, the dresses and the hats.

They suit you, Norbert commented.

But they hinder me in moving. Jumpsuits are so much easier. Cordelia knew that wearing one of these suits would land her in police custody very quickly here, where she'd be facing lots of uncomfortable questions. And you are a piece of software, Norbert, what do you know about fashion?

Norbert replied, My database contains everything there is to know on the subject, which is more than I can say about your head.

And I want you to friggin' shut up. Cordelia froze for a moment. She sometimes slipped back into the person she'd once been, using the language from there. I'm sorry. I would prefer if you were to remain silent on this subject.

Norbert didn't respond any more. Cordelia took her purse and walked through the STAR's door. Oh. Norbert? Thank you for your help. Again.

My pleasure, Cordelia.

She left the machine. From her purse, she took the remote control and locked the time-travel unit. After taking a deep breath, she climbed the stairs up to the actual house.

~

Cordelia hurried to change into some proper clothing for the time. Her adventures and exploits had provided her with ample finances but she tried to keep a low profile. So far she'd been safe here but there was always the risk that a 'policer' from the 23rd century would show up looking for her.

As the 3D-printed robot-arms, that she kept in her secret room, tied up her corset, she thought back to her old life in 2251. That still sounded odd to her because that was over 350 years into the future, but still, it was her old life. Time travel had become reasonably reliable by then, apart from the occasional accident with newer, experimental STAR models. The one in her basement was such an experimental type, battered and beaten up on the outside by now. And incomplete in many ways, but she hadn't had much choice.

Not so tight, dammit, Cordelia muttered at the robot-arms. She never seemed to get the setting right. It was either just too tight, or it felt as if the corset was about to slide down her hips. Maybe she should just wear a belt around the corset instead of going through this laborious and time-consuming lacing up.

With the corset in place, she slipped into a comfortable dress, slipped the small bit of paper with location data in a sleeve and stepped into her favourite shoes. All dressed for the occasion and the time-period, she went to open the front door. As Norbert had noticed through the STAR's scanners, someone was waiting for her. The man didn't look distressed because of the waiting.

Miss Lexington, he said, doffing a hat which had seen better times. How nice to see you.

Mr Brown. Cordelia always felt awkward addressing someone called Brown. She waited for the stare. Yes, there it was. Never failed. The tattoo on the side of her head had been a fabulous idea at the time, at home. Here it made everyone look twice, and most people felt uneasy seeing it.

Did you... store it? the man asked.

I did. Cordelia took the sheet from her sleeve and handed it to him. As you are well aware, this is important. Without this information, I cannot retrieve your goods. That wasn't exactly true but she liked to put the pressure on her 'customers' so they understood how important that was. They didn't need to know about her shadow-log.

As if the paper were pure gold, Mr Brown nodded and carefully slipped it into a large, thick and worn wallet. Thank you, Miss Lexington. Always a pleasure. I may call on you in a few days to retrieve something.

Of course. You are most welcome, Mr Brown. Cordelia didn't wait for the man to walk off before closing the door. With this transaction behind her, she was assured of some more funds in her account, which was a reason to celebrate. Her celebrations usually were limited to enjoying a glass of sherry, something she'd discovered in this age and she had developed a taste for it.

With her glass in hand, Cordelia walked to the conservatory in the back of her house and overlooked the small garden from a comfortable chair.

Soon her thoughts had transported her back to 2251, where she had been a Brown. Cordy Brown, from Lexington, Mississippi. Doctor Cordy Brown, a mediocrely successful temporal scientist working on the lower echelons of the STAR development team. Doctor Cordy Brown who, at all times, had more men come after her than she had fingers on both hands. Men she didn't want nor need.

If that idiot Monroe Branson hadn't come on so strong, she'd still be happy there. Maybe she would have had a promotion by now. Maybe even her own, small research department. So much could have happened in three years, and a lot had, just not in the way she had hoped or planned.

Stop haunting me, Monroe Branson, Cordelia said out loud, hoping it would make a difference. The only thing that happened was that her mind served up the image of the dead body of Branson, two floors down, where his involuntary flight had ended after slipping on a narrow walkway. You shouldn't have come after me. You were married, for crying out loud! And your fancy shoes were all wrong for the workshop floor. Cordelia couldn't remember how often she'd gone through this already. If only she could make it stop.

She decided she needed to occupy her mind with something. With a sigh, she looked at the dress she'd put on mere minutes ago. All that trouble for Mr Brown. With her sherry-glass in hand Cordelia went to her bedroom and changed into the comfortable jumpsuit again. Much better, even though that showed signs of wear. After that, she went back to the cellar, determined to take the directional control-box apart and make it work.

~

Are you going to try it again? Norbert had seen Cordelia take the box apart before.

No trying. This time it's going to work, she said, twisting and pulling the top from the box. The last time she hadn't bothered to put the screws in. That saved a lot of time. Carefully she eased the cover-plate over the lever and put it aside.

Yes. Norbert managed to make it sound like No.

I wish you knew how to do this instead of commenting on fashion, Cordelia said as she took a tool from a box.

If you had not 'borrowed' this STAR unit so rapidly after the unfortunate demise of the research director, I would have known.

Cordelia loosened and removed several parts from inside the control box so she could see the spot where the lever went deeper into the system. And your external cameras weren't online yet when it happened. Your footage would have made all the difference. Now let's see what's beneath this...

More and more parts were evicted from the box until there were only the bottom and the lever going through the opening in it.

I need more light... she said. Where did I leave that thing... Oh, right! One of her scarce trips out into the world had taken her to 1999, where she had bought a flashlight and a lot of batteries. Ancient technology but it worked, and she didn't dare go back to her own time. There had to be a warrant for her arrest out.

As she walked out of the STAR to get the flashlight from a cupboard, Cordelia wished for the invention of electric light and an extension cord. It wasn't the first time, but this was 1875. Edison would take another four years before coming up with the first real lightbulb.

With the flashlight, she hurried back to the STAR. Because there wasn't much space inside the control-box it took her some juggling with the light but she managed to direct the beam down along the misbehaving lever.

Something down there glistened.

What... the... hell... Each space was accentuated by a push against the lever. Oh no... She got up and lowered the mirror. Do you remember how I once lost a hairpin?

I assume you located it. Norbert sounded neutral, as so often.

I did. Cordelia looked at the bottom plate of the control-box and wondered how she would get that hairpin out of there. The bottom was welded onto a frame. I need tweezers... This made for another trip to the cupboard.

Right. Let's do this...

Cordelia left a few drops of perspiration on the bottom of the control-box but in the end, she did get the hairpin out. It wouldn't be used for hair any more though. All her pushing against the lever had deformed the metal pin. After that bit of mechanical surgery, it was only a matter of time before she had reassembled the control-box to its original glory. The lever moved freely again.

I think we need to test-drive this STAR, she announced. Norbert remained silent. It had learnt that objecting would make no difference. Now where could we go...

2. Lexington, Mississippi

Cordelia had changed into a rather casual dress before going on her little trip. She didn't want to attract attention where she was going, so the simpler the clothing, the better. She entered the coordinates without having to pay much attention. She'd gone to this place plenty of times.

"You are going to see him again, aren't you?" Norbert said.

I am. Are you jealous? Cordelia's finger hovered over the Go button as she waited for Norbert's response.

I most certainly am not.

Good. Her finger hit the button. The interior lights of the STAR dimmed as the forcefield came on. The shudder in her seat told her that the moment to abort had passed. The monitors went dark apart from one with the Anomaly Replication Curve. The ARC didn't move up much as she wasn't crossing time boundaries. Cordelia only travelled to another part of the world, which took no more than a few seconds.

We're here. Cordelia always said that. She didn't really know why because both she and Norbert knew. Quickly she shut down the system after the forcefield had dropped. In her left screen, she saw the familiar wooden wall of the barn she used to 'park' here.

Here, in this case, was Lexington, Mississippi. In the year 1875. Cordelia had come here a few years ago, out of curiosity to see if the town would actually exist already. It did, and it had been doing quite well since it was established in 1836. Lately, she knew, things weren't so grand. A recession was emerging, plunging many people into financial problems.

She got out of the STAR, locked it and left the barn, curious if she would find anything changed. The only change was that wheat was growing around the barn now. At least that was good. There was only one path out of the field. She knew it well.

After a brisk walk, she reached the 'main road' into town. The Weismeier family lived just outside the town. The field was theirs. Well, it belonged to Mr Weismeier. David, Mr Weismeier's son and, by now, her more-than-just-a-friend, took care of it after his hours at the Muskary farm. Cordelia grinned as she remembered meeting him for the first time. She had arrived here for the very first time, two years ago, and he had seen the STAR appear. It had shocked him to his very core. Cordelia still felt sorry for him, for having to go through that. That moment had, however, given her the advantage, because David had been too stunned to use the gun he had with him. The fact she'd been wearing her jumpsuit had probably helped also, as that was more revealing than underwear in this time.

The walk only took her about ten minutes. Mrs Weismeier was outside, feeding the few chickens the family had. That wasn't uncommon; she only worked at the hardware store of her husband if their daughter, Rose, couldn't work.

Cordelia, the woman greeted her. Mrs Weismeier smiled a tired smile.

Mrs Weismeier, how good to see you again. Cordelia took the bucket with the chicken feed from the woman's hand and started helping her, even though there was little more to do.

David was hoping to see you again soon, Mrs Weismeier told Cordelia. He said so yesterday. She looked where the sun was. He should not be long now. Would you like to come inside and have some tea?

That would be nice, Cordelia said, enjoying the sound of this woman's funny dialect. The Weismeiers had come to the States five years ago. They were Jewish and from Germany. Using Norbert's knowledge, Cordelia had learnt what Jewish meant. Those things had mostly gotten lost in the past century but it was important that she knew about this. David and she had become more than friends, so doing this right was important.

As they sat and talked, time went fast. Footsteps outside on the wooden veranda announced someone was coming. Cordelia's heart jumped as the door opened and David came in.

Cordelia... His tanned face split in a giant smile. How nice to see you.

Her first impulse, as usual, was to jump up and hug him, but that would be considered offensive in this household so she got up and took his hands for a moment. Rough, calloused hands with fresh cuts and more scars than she wanted to see. David. I am glad to see you too. He excused his appearance and took his leave to wash and change into something more appropriate. During that time, Mrs Weismeier commented on Cordelia's efforts to come over to Lexington.

Together with David, she had come up with the tale that Cordelia lived in a tiny village near Lexington, no more than 4 houses on a patch of land, where she allegedly rented a room from an old landlady. The landlady was real, and David's parents would never want to meet her because of her strange convictions.

Cordelia still had to find out what those convictions would be. Maybe, one day, she'd go there and have a look at that woman.

It is not a very long walk, Cordelia said to Mrs Weismeier. I have walked further.

You have said so before, the older woman said, but it is quite a distance for a woman alone. Anything could happen, Cordelia. It would be nice if, in proper time, you could settle closer to our house. The unspoken 'with David, properly married' hung between them.

That would indeed be nice, Cordelia affirmed. Settling down wasn't so much on her mind yet, but having a future with David sounded very good.

At that moment David returned, cleaned up and in fresh clothes. Would you like to go for a walk? he asked. He loved going out walking with Cordelia, and ask dozens of questions.

David... His mother looked at him. "She has just walked ten miles to come here. Give her a moment to rest her feet, the poor goya."

Cordelia smiled as she heard the word. Goya meant woman in the Yiddish language, which was what the family often spoke among themselves, despite being in the United States. David had once explained goya to her and pointed out that it was a good word. Had his mother called her shikza, it would be clear she didn't like Cordelia, or at least she wouldn't hold her in high esteem.

I'll be fine, Mrs Weismeier, Cordelia said. David doesn't walk that fast so I will be able to keep up with him.

Hah. Mrs Weismeier huffed. He always runs. She looked at her son and rattled away in Yiddish, making him nod very often. Cordelia would love to know what his mother was telling him. Oh well, if it was important, he'd tell her later.

David looked relieved when his mother stopped talking. He thanked her, got up and looked at Cordelia, who also thanked his mother (even though she wasn't sure what for). Together they left the house.

So what was that all about? she asked as soon as they were at a safe distance. Mrs Weismeier's ears were notoriously sharp.

Oh. Nothing important. She thinks the world of you and she made me promise I'd take good care of you so you won't leave. David looked at her for a moment. You have the heart of my whole family, Cordelia. Even my sister likes you very much.

That made her smile. Rose was a nice girl. Then she asked what had happened to his hands. I've never seen them so bad, David.

It was... a difficult day at the farm, he simply said, making a feeble attempt to hide his hands. Before he managed that, Cordelia carefully took one of them in hers and looked at the wounds. Maybe she had something in her small cabinet at home that might help. She knew she couldn't hold his hand for too long, though. They were 'just friends' and there were houses around from where they could be seen. This was a nice little community but rumours and gossip were of all ages.

Come. Let's walk a little further out, she suggested. David was all in favour of that, even though that might cause some gossip too. A man and a woman, walking off on their own... But they had decided not to care about that.

Where have you been? David's question didn't surprise her.