The Time Ship

By David Lawrence Morris

The Time Ship_Synopsis

Dr. Brian Miller, a physicist is investigating what might be a buried ship along with the military and NASA. During the investigation, he accidentally triggers a time travel mechanism designed for ultra-long distance communications.
He discovers he’s landed in his 18 year old body, but the original occupant is still present. In the process of visiting his young self he gives himself the courage he needs to pursue the one girl he has always loved and save his mother from what was a fatal cancer.
He is able to convince his mother from the past to keep the ship from falling into the wrong hands to protect the world from the military use of the discovery. In the process everyone’s life is changed and, once returned to the present, Dr. Brian Miller discovers he is now someone else.
I hope you enjoy it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: David Lawrence Morris
• Release date: Dec 27, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463017739

David Lawrence Morris

I grew up in Phoenix, graduating from ASU in 1976. Now retired in Palm Springs I have enjoyed writing fiction and editing more than I ever dreamed I would. My books to date are: The Trilogy; Spots: The Youth Tablets Spots, The People at the Pond-Second Chance Spots, The Finale-The Lost Tablets. This trilogy is about an accidental side effect of an experimental medication...It returns the people in the trial to their youth. The Time Ship is an unusual take on a time travel adventure. Jason's Virus is a novel about a virus that quickly kills all but a few adult men and the civilization that results.

Book preview

The Time Ship

By

David Lawrence Morris

© 2020

Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the authors or his assigns permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/).

This work is entirely a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

Copyright@2020 by David Lawrence Morris

Digital Release: 2020

Print Release: 2020

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CHAPTER 1

The Call

She was running through the dunes at the top of some beach in what looked like slow motion. She ran first down one side, then up the other. A light wind was blowing her yellow sundress, catching it like a sail, and blowing it to one side, leaving the edge flapping in the breeze.

She held a large straw hat, with a multi-colored scarf tied around it, the ends waving in the same breeze that flattened her dress against her legs, and sending her hair across her face.

She turned to see if anyone was nearby. Seeing me, a smile crept across her face inviting me closer, and then I heard it. Initially, it was barely audible. I tried to stay there on that dune, but I was being torn away. Fight it, I thought, but she faded away as the emerging sunlight coming through the bathroom window caught my eye.

I accepted the unfortunate reality that I’d been dreaming, climbed out of bed, and headed to the bathroom. Then, I heard it again. It was my phone. I picked it up from the end table to answer it. Glancing in the mirror, I saw my silver/brown hair standing at odd angles framing my sleep wrinkled face as I heard the ring again.

This time the ring seemed louder and more irritating. The room was lit only by the bright red numbers on the clock and the reflected sun light from the bathroom

Who’d be calling me at this hour? I thought. My clock said it was five thirty! I was gripped by the horrible fear that someone was either dead or dying. The last time I got a call like this it was the hospital calling to tell me about my mother’s death, but that was decades ago. People didn’t just call me at 5:30 in the morning. Bad news was the only reason for anyone to call me now. Oh well, I thought, everyone I ever cared about is gone. My mother died young and my brother Drake ran away when I was a teenager. I didn’t know if he was dead or alive.

I looked for the button to answer the phone before it could ring again, but as I heard the fourth ring I realized I’d grabbed the TV remote instead. I quickly exchanged it for the phone and pushed the answer button. Hello.

There was no immediate answer. My waking confusion was beginning to morph into anger as I imagined some computer halfway around the world selecting my number, so someone in India could try to sell me something or scam me.

Finally a voice came across the line. Hello? Is this Dr. Miller? the voice said. It sounded American. It was a sweet southern female voice. The area code on the incoming number was 713. Somewhere in Texas? I thought.

Yes...I’m Dr. Miller. I answered cautiously.

Is this Brian Miller, the Physicist? she asked, to make sure I was the right man.

Yes, I answered cautiously, not wanting to give her more information than was necessary.

My name is Carol Norris and I’m calling from NASA.

This has got to be some kind of a joke? I thought. Sitting on the edge of the bed I saw my reflection in the dresser mirror again. I was wearing an old t-shirt, underwear from the day before, and I was still half-asleep. I knew I’d never get back to sleep, so I held the phone in one hand while I wandered through the dark hall and into the kitchen to start the coffee I’d set to brew by itself in another two hours. So tell me Carol, why is NASA calling a physics professor at 5:30 in the morning?

I’m, so sorry to call you this early, but please give me just a minute and I’ll explain everything. Her accent was tantalizing and easily melting my desire to be in a bad mood.

"Y’all remember a professor Maxwell Anderson? He said that years ago he was associated with you. Actually, he was your old college professor before you went to work at Arizona State. Well, NASA eventually recruited him and he was just assigned to a special project, an extremely important project. He asked me to contact you, knowing you live in the area and might be available. He actually just asked me if I could locate you a few minutes ago. You weren’t difficult to find."

So Dr. Anderson is at work at 5:30 in the morning? Did he just get there?

It’s 4:30 here and he’s been here all night. We all have. Like I said, this project is extremely important.

I was indeed a physics professor, known mostly for my studies in time, about which I’d published often. I was surprised and a little irritated that this call had come in, at what seemed like the middle of the night, but the ‘important’ nature of the call intrigued me. I don’t understand, I said. I haven’t seen Dr. Anderson, or even thought about him in years. Why would he suddenly need me now?

The tone of her voice as she tried to contain her frustration made me believe she had indeed been up all night. A little annoyed at my questions, she finally took an audible breath to answer me.

Look, she said, "At first it was a mystery to me too. Let me make this really easy for you. I think we anticipated most of your questions and objections, so we threw them at Dr. Anderson first thing when he asked me to contact you. I made a list, so let me just read it to you. Maybe, we can speed this thing along.

"Here’s what I know. When you were a student Dr. Anderson was impressed with you. Later, when you went to work in the physics department he got to know you better and he’s followed your career ever since.

He’s read all of your published works and says he thinks this project will turn your theories about time upside down. For some reason he thinks you’ll appreciate that, so he wants you to be part of it.

How did he get involved with NASA?

"He was recruited years ago, but he’s been working primarily on-call now. We called him in to help investigate something we consider to be vital to national security and he thinks you can help him. The job pays extremely well, so y’all coming or not?"

Every time that woman said y’all it just warmed my heart. How could I be mad at a woman with such a sweet southern voice? The proposition sounded inviting. I’d been following in the footsteps of my old professor ever since I’d left the university. It was early summer, so my classes were finished for the semester. I had no summer engagements and I could really use the money. The words "extremely well echoed around my head. It was tempting to ask, but either way I knew I was going. It all sounded way too tempting. Finally, I asked her. Is this to be a temporary assignment?"

Well yes, but if you’re instrumental in helping us actually figure this thing out, I imagine they’ll want to keep you around.

Okay then, where are you and when do you want me to be there? Oh, and how do you want me to travel?

I’m calling you today from Houston, but we’ll be leaving for Sedona, Arizona within an hour or so. We’ll meet you there.

Sedona was so close that the only way to get there from here was by car, but I could drive there in less than three hours so it wasn’t a big deal.

I got out my pad and wrote down the hotel name and address. Then I told her I could be there by Monday. It was already Saturday and I figured I’d need to make some arrangements with the gardener and pack. It would give me a day to do some shopping. I’d need to dispose of some of the things in my refrigerator that would spoil before I returned.

I was surprised when that sweet southern voice I’d been enjoying took on a totally new character. This is a joint investigation involving the military as well as NASA. You’ll be working for the Federal Government now. For the money you’ll be making, you’ll be expected to suffer a few hardships, so take a shower, throw on some casual clothes, and I mean blue jeans and sneakers, pack a suitcase, gas up your car, and head out. Keep track of your mileage. At the end of the investigation you’ll be paid for your auto expenses. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?

Yes Ma’am!

OK, see you there. We’re flying to Luke Air Force Base and driving straight up from there, so we’ll all be there today! We’ll head out to the site first thing tomorrow morning.

I quickly called the gardener, pulled out a suitcase, and filled it with clothes. I took a quick shower, and a few minutes later wiggled into a pair of jeans and a light green T-shirt I’d left out for the trip. After taking out the garbage, including the bulk of the items in my refrigerator, I grabbed my laptop and piled everything into the back seat. Once I’d gassed up the car I wrote down the mileage and took to the road.

The whole process took me about an hour. I felt a little empty inside knowing I could pack up my life and move it in an hour. It had been way too easy. At this stage in my life, I didn’t have a family to explain this too, a girlfriend, or anyone other than my gardener who’d even know I’d be gone. As long as I had computer access, I could pay a few bills or transfer cash. Almost nothing of any importance arrived in the mail anymore. I had no ties. I wouldn’t notice the loss if I never returned and even though I didn’t know it yet, I never would.

The highway up to Sedona was on the other side of the city. I lived in Tempe, a University town on the southeast side of Phoenix. Phoenix is huge. I estimated the drive would take a couple hours. For most of that time I’d be getting out of Tempe and across the city of Phoenix before I even hit the 17 heading north to Sedona. I rented a little house when I was a grad student, then when I went to work at the University I bought the place. I’d been there all these many years. Once I was settled, I saw no reason to move. The community was in an older part of town, but the drive to work was a cinch. Some days I just walked. This drive out of town involved traveling clear across Phoenix, but with the freeways I’d crossed town faster than I’d planned. I was grateful it was Saturday reducing the traffic. In no time, I was on Interstate-17 heading north. Sedona is in an area part way up the mountains toward Flagstaff. It wasn’t desert, but wasn’t high enough to have the tall pine trees like Flagstaff, which was only a short drive north from there.

About noon, I pulled into town. The place was packed. If it hadn’t been for the fact that I was staying in a hotel with a parking lot, I’d have never been able to park. Every parking space in the whole town was full. I assumed most of them were from Phoenix. It was Saturday and a drive to Sedona was a popular activity for the people from the city. The temperature is a good ten to twenty degrees cooler during the summer months.

The hotel was older. It looked like a hundred other hotels built in the late fifties. It was painted to match the red-orange color of the landscape. The concrete fence surrounding the parking lot had been built with peaks and valleys along the top to mimic the landscape. The man at the hotel desk confirmed the reservation. Apparently, I was the first to arrive. The room wasn’t going to be ready for hours, so I took the opportunity to grab some breakfast and walk around the town. Sedona is a very small tourist town set in the middle of some of the prettiest red mountains and rock formations you ever saw. Most of them looked to be solid red sandstone.

I figured that if the people from NASA drove to an airport, checked in, got on a plane and were flying from Houston to Luke Air Force base and driving up, it could be hours before they arrived.

After walking the town and seeing all of the Native American jewelry that was for sale, I went back to the hotel lobby to relax and sip on some fairly decent coffee. The hotel had free internet and the man behind the desk gave me the code I needed to entertain myself on my phone. Eventually I heard cars pulling up outside. A caravan of vans was pulling into the lot one by one. How could they be here, so soon? I thought It has to be them.

By that time, I was relieved to see them. For the last hour, I’d been considering the possibility that some of my students might have run a scam on me. I imagined half a dozen of my former students sitting around their apartment laughing after planning this charade. The only shred of hope I had was the reservation. They were probably smart enough to know I’d be able to track those details back to them.

As the vans unloaded, a crowd developed in the parking lot. Looking through the crowd, I finally recognized a white haired slightly wrinkled version of my old professor. I was delighted to see him, but at the same time relieved I hadn’t been the butt of a practical joke after all.

I called out to him. Hello, Dr. Anderson. It’s me Brian Miller!

If he heard me, he didn’t react. I wondered if his hearing was failing. Dr. Anderson was a tall man on the thin side. He was familiar but was nothing like the young professor I remembered.

He was walking toward another man in military garb who was removing the rest of the luggage from one of the vans. After retrieving his bag, the old professor headed across the lot toward the office. I met him half way. Dr. Anderson? Is that really you?

Brian Miller! the old man said. I didn’t recognize you. You’re a lot older than I remember. I could almost see him trying to calculate my age.

My old professor was one of those men who never retired. Like me, he’d never married and I suspect he didn’t have a lot of outside activities either. Work was his life. He was well over seventy years old, but didn’t look his years.

This is going to be a wonderful adventure for both of us. He said, reaching forward, grabbing me by the shirt, and pulling me close enough to hug me with a big warm squeeze.

I couldn’t wait. So what’s the big mystery?

The old man picked up his suitcase and together we headed toward the hotel. You’re going to love this! He said. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime! Wait until we get checked in and I’ll tell you all about it. Oh and drop the Dr. Anderson bit. I have no intention of calling you Dr. Miller! Just call me Max!

I told him we might still have a wait. They won’t let us check in until 3:30. I already tried.

Oh yeah? The voice came from a smallish woman getting out of one of the cars. I recognized her accent immediately. It had to be Carol, the very woman who’d called me about this assignment in the first place. Was it really only this morning that she called? I thought. Everything had happened, so fast.

Her voice had that unmistakable Texas drawl that I was so drawn to. She set down her luggage and stormed into the office of the hotel, closing the door carefully behind her. The rest of us could see her looking up at the tall young man behind the counter. Her mouth was moving a million miles an hour. The man looked panicky and apologetic. He reminded me of a dog with