Sunder by Kristin McTiernan Read Free Book Online Page B

as she entered Peterson’s launch station.  The excitement of her impending trip had set in and she was anxious to meet up with Dejesus and the tourist in 1921.
    Peterson turned to her with a grin. “Isabella! How is the prettiest woman in the world today?” Unlike Etienne, Cody had no trouble fitting in with the Spanish majority.  He was a young man, fresh out of university, and it showed in his enthusiasm and fresh outlook.  There was no cynicism or suspicion in his clear blue eyes, which were usually crinkled in a smile.  Isabella, like everyone else at the depot, liked him very much.
    “I’m fabulous darling; how are you?” Isabella returned his greeting in English, since Cody used his native language without shame. She had hoped some of Cody’s joviality and ease with himself would rub off on her misanthropic husband, but that had not occurred.
    “I’m just great,” Cody said. “I’m going out to dinner with Samantha Saint from processing tomorrow night.” He looked down and merrily brought up the coordinates for the machine. 
    Isabella stepped onto the yellow footprints without the slightest bit of trepidation. “Is she the freckled girl with affected speech?” she asked, referring to the woman’s southern accent.
    “That’s her. You ready for a jump?”
    “Yes I am.” Then she remembered. “Oh! I need my emergency beacon.”
    He laughed at her. “How many times have we done this? And you forget that? That’s it, you’re fired.”
    She smiled winningly at him while she walked out across the hall into his prep room.  After putting her thumb onto the lock box on the wall, it confirmed her fingerprint and popped open.  Hanging inside was one silver crucifix.
    “Hey Cody,” she yelled across the hallway. “You’ve only got one left in here. You need to get some more before the evening launch.” She slipped the life-saving beacon over her head.
    “I had like ten of them in there,” he yelled back. 
    She returned to the launch station and resumed her previous position on her yellow footprints. “Well there aren’t any in there now. I’ve got the last one.”
    A shadow of irritation passed quickly over his face, but it returned almost immediately to its standard cheerful countenance. “I guess I’ll have to requisition more.  Okay, for real this time. Let’s get you going.”
    “If I don’t see you before tomorrow, good luck on your date.”
    He giggled mischievously and gave her an enthusiastic wave goodbye; then he pushed send.
    A dull buzz popped into the air.
    “What’s tha-” and she disappeared. It was High Noon, 12 p.m. exactly.
    “I don’t know,” he mumbled quietly to himself.  With the smile completely gone, he bent down and peered into the console.
    ***
    Alfredo sat stiffly in his chair in the main Council chambers, constructed below the launch terminals, far from prying eyes.  The Council was comprised of nine men, veterans in the various aspects of time travel, all seated at their table, which took up the majority of the room. They were staring silently at Alexander Ryckoff, who had been brought before them to answer charges of treason and temporal sabotage while supposedly conducting research in 2003 Soviet Union.  The pale and slightly overweight associate professor stood nervously awaiting his sentence, sweat beading up on his forehead.
    Ryckoff had been a time tourist on an extended observation, therefore was allowed contact with the local population.  This permission, however, did not include forcible intercourse with a woman and impregnating her. The very fact he fled the Agents escorting him undetected was another matter to be dealt with separately.
    The Council had maintained their menacing silence for more than twenty minutes. This was a ritual Alfredo had laid out.  He wanted to ensure the accused had sufficient time to read and reread the mantra written on the wall above his head: As you sow so will you reap. When a man makes an error in daily