The Bergmann Protocol Read online

attention, and I don’t need to tell you what the possible consequences are, if we’re discovered. Besides, I have no wish to spend the rest of my days living in the past.”

  Gillitzer injected the second syringe into Leitner’s leg then passed it back to Braal. With the injured crewmen stabilised he could now concentrate on the more pressing problem of getting rescued.

  “I have to get back to the ship,” he said grimly, “pick up the homing beacon. I’ll try to find a working scanner too…see if we can find out where the hell we are.”

  By using the term, ‘where’, the captain also meant ‘when’. That was the problem with becoming lost when time travelling; finding out one’s location was only half the equation.

  Gillitzer picked himself and turned towards the shelter entrance, but, before he had taken a step, he felt Braal’s hand upon his shoulder.

  “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, Captain,” said the commander, “the crew need you, and if the core has breached you could be dead in minutes. I will return to the ship.”

  On the rare occasions that Braal had questioned the captain’s orders, he had always been correct to do so. It was not that Gillitzer made poor decisions, but he did have a tendency of putting himself at risk to protect his crew. As first officer, it was Braal’s duty to stop him.

  “Damn it, Braal” said the captain gruffly, “do you always have to follow procedure?”

  “One of us has to,” replied Braal with a smile, before opening the shelter door and disappearing into the dark.

  Gillitzer spent the next few minutes tending to Harris. The young ensign’s injury, whilst not life threatening, was causing him considerable pain, so the captain, gave him a sedative, and proceeded to make a sling for his arm. It not only offered Harris relief from his discomfort, but also gave Gillitzer something to do as he anxiously waited for Braal’s return.

  The Captains fears about his first officer were quickly laid to rest; however, as moments later Braal came striding back into the shelter. His golden hair was slick with rain, as was his flight suit and in his hands, was a large black cylinder.

  “I’m glad to report, Captain,” said Braal with a grin, “that the core is intact, and your first officer is alive and well.”

  “I was more worried about the beacon, Commander,” replied Gillitzer, soberly, “you are expendable…the beacon is not!”

  Braal shrugged the statement off, having become well used to the captain’s dark brand of humour.

  “I found a scanner, sir,” continued the commander, “but it was damaged and lost power after only a couple of minutes. I did manage to scan the core though…checked out fine. The beacon seems to have taken a whack, but I think it’s still operational.”

  “I hope so, Commander” said Gillitzer, “for all our sakes.”

  Taking the cylinder from Braal, he then knelt and placed it on the ground before him. Towards one end of the object was a small but noticeable dent which Gillitzer nervously passed his eye over. If the internal workings of the beacon were damaged in any way, he and his crew could be stuck in the past forever.

  And that would be the least of their problems.

  In the event that any of the technology within the Kolibri were to be discovered by someone in this time-period, it could lead to a change in history; a so-called paradox event. Ever since time travel became a technical reality, there had been many theories put forward as to the possible consequences if such a thing were to happen; Absolutely none of the proposed outcomes, were ‘good’.

  Gillitzer carefully flipped open the beacons control panel, revealing two switches; one was marked ‘power, the other’, ‘activation’. Flicking the power switch, he leant back and waited anxiously for the display panel to spark into life. It did so after barely a second, although, to Gillitzer, it felt like an eternity.

  “Well, it still has power,” he said, turning to Braal, “let’s just hope the rest of the systems are operational. We’ll need to get further from the ship before we activate it. Being this close to the core may distort the signal and we’re only going to get one shot at this.”

  Gillitzer turned the power switch off and closed the control panel, before picking the beacon back up. Braal, equipped himself once again with a torch, and moved to the shelter door, holding it open for the captain to pass through. The two men then headed away from the shelter and out into the dark.

  They made their way across the desert, through the dark and rain, without saying a word. The storm appeared to be easing, leaving just brief flashes of lightning against the horizon. By the time, they came to a halt, the illumination of the shelter was just a dull speck of light behind them.

  “This should be far enough,” said Gillitzer as he stopped, crouched, then placed the beacon on the sand. Once again, he opened the control panel and flicked on the power, before his finger nervously moved to the activation switch.

  “Does it still work?” Braal, asked impatiently.

  “Apparently so,” said Gillitzer, as a blinding blue flash above their heads heralded the rescue ship’s arrival… a full second before he had flicked the activation switch.

  Time travel had so far proven to be far from an exact science. Since the beginning of Operation Phoenix, very few sorties to the past had got within a decade of their target. In fact, the closest that any mission ever came was a full seven years after the target destination, or ‘Minute Zero’, as it had become known.

  When a craft had a beacon to target, however, it was a completely different story. The tachyon stream from the beacon could be homed in on, so that the rescue ship could arrive at the exact time of activation, to within a one point six second margin of error. Of course, there was nothing to say that the craft couldn’t arrive one point six seconds before activation.

  Gillitzer and Braal stood looking up at the silent leviathan, as it hovered motionless above them. Like their own craft, its ovoid shaped hull was almost completely free from markings, although it was almost twice the size of the Kolibri. The edges of the ship pulsed with light, casting an eerie glow on to the two men as they watched it move gracefully towards the crash site.

  “Which ship is that?” asked Braal, “The Rudorffer? The Hartmann?”

  A broad smile had appeared on Gillitzer’s face with the rescue ships arrival. However, as the craft started to descend, becoming more recognisable, his smile began to slowly disappear. The ship, along with its captain, were very familiar to him.

  “It’s the Barkhorn,” he answered with a despondent tone.

  The Captain of the Barkhorn, Helena Dietrich, had, like Gillitzer, been part of the Zeit Korps from its inception. Her forceful personality and fiercely competitive nature meant she had risen swiftly through its ranks, becoming one of its most experienced pilots. Her tendency to delight in the misfortune of others, however, had meant that she was one it’s least popular.

  Dietrich was the last person in the Korps that Gillitzer would have wanted to command the rescue. It wasn’t that he doubted her ability to get the job done, it was he knew that she would never let him forget the fact that she had rescued him…ever.

  The Barkhorn had landed on a flat patch of ground between the crash site and the point where Gillitzer had activated the beacon. By the time the two of them got near to the craft, they could see that the ramp had been lowered and the medical team had already disembarked. With almost perfect timing, the formidable figure of Captain Dietrich came marching out of the ship, just as they reached the ramp.

  Dietrich was not a small woman. She stood over six feet tall, with hips wider than most women and shoulders broader than most men. Standing on the ramp, above Gillitzer, she looked even more imposing than usual.

  As her eyes locked onto his, she began to smile. It was not a smile born of familiarity or warmth, however, but rather one filled with mockery. It’s begun already, thought Gillitzer, as he forced himself to smile back.

  “Well, well, well, Captain Gillitzer,” said Dietrich, looking down at the tw
o of them, “you have got yourself into a pickle, haven’t you?”

  “Captain Dietrich,” replied Gillitzer, offering a formal salute, “it’s good to see you.”

  “I bet it is!” she chuckled, “since I’m the one who’s got to tidy up this mess. First things, first, Captain…what is your crew’s status?”

  “We have three injured,” said Gillitzer, “two are serious but stable. Commander Braal will take the medical team to them.”

  Braal nodded his acknowledgement, saluted, then turned on his heels. Gesturing for the medics to follow, he then started to make his way back to the shelter.

  “Now, Captain, tell me,” Continued Dietrich, with obvious enjoyment, “how is your poor little ship?”

  “The Kolibri,” replied Gillitzer, trying desperately to keep his cool, “held up remarkably well given the speed of impact. The core is still intact, although she sustained a major hull breach. A field repair won’t be possible.”

  “I’d rather get the opinion of my engineers, before we reach that conclusion,” she replied, curtly, “But we’ll take your word for it, at least, for the moment.”

  “So, what’s your plan?” said Gillitzer, through gritted teeth, “Are you going to try a recovery?”

  “Recovery? Good God no!” she snorted, “we would have way too much mass. No Captain, we must look for an alternative solution.”

  With that Dietrich pulled a data pad from the