Brady Woodington as Jonas Kade

In the paleness of the very early morning, the park was empty and vast and silent. Dawn had come not more than half an hour ago, and it would only be another half hour before the custodians converged on the place to begin prepping it to receive guests. It was the window of time Jonas Kade liked best, and one of the reasons he loved his job.

A contracted employee for General Electric, he was out here twice a week to check the lighting for the landscaping department. It was an easy job, a pleasant one, and left him enough free time to keep pursuing his dream of becoming the next Heinlein. He had other contracts around Orlando but, naturally, EPCOT was his favorite. There was so much scope for the imagination here. Other GE techs might’ve balked at facing hordes of tourists and the notion of working for The Rat, but not Jonas. He liked Disney because ol’ Walt had dreamed as big as Jonas himself dreamed. He loved sci-fi, and this was about as sci-fi as you could get in Central Florida. Plus, the pay was fantastic for a guy who’d only just gotten his B.S. Not even twenty-five and he was pulling in a decent salary.

He was checking one of the fixtures that illuminated topiary at the entrance, enveloped in the quiet and admiring how pristine the place looked on this fine February morning, when he suddenly felt the hairs raise on the back of his neck. It felt as though someone was standing behind him. Looking back, he frowned at the emptiness, considered a moment, shrugged and went back to adjusting the lantern. A moment later, he felt the same sensation, only this time, someone was to his right. A quick snap of a glance revealed…nothing. No-one. At least, not at first.

It was only because the place was so still, so empty, that he could eve notice it – a flicker of motion over by the Package Pick-Up building to his far right. Like a mirage, or a warm-air ripple. It was there, then vanished, then appeared again.

Slowly, swallowing thickly, Jonas rose to his feet and tucked his screwdriver into his belt. The thought came to him that this was a moment with the potential to turn your life in a certain direction, but he immediately dismissed the thought as being way too aureate…was that the word he wanted? Overblown, flowery…yeah. Aureate. Way too aureate.

He approached the side building carefully, and again he saw the shimmer near it. As he got closer, the thing changed, sharpened a bit. It was a space about ten by ten feet, and it was almost like a projection that was heavily distorted. Jonas was an electrician, and he knew electricity when he saw it, but this…wasn’t the sort you used to power your TV. It was thinner, more delicate, less physical. Like a spider web of impulses.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, staring.

And the image sharpened a little. He blinked, and it faded. Another moment of staring and it focused a bit again. It didn’t take long for him to catch on. He stood still, foxed his eyes on the distortion, and concentrated.

People. There were people. Sitting at a table. Talking. There was food, and movement, and…he could count them. One, two, three, four…seven…nine…ten. Ten of them. He hooked his thumb into the beltloop of his jeans and leaned forward, squinting, trying to see more. Now sounds were coming. Conversation, animated and raucous. Laughter. Whoever they were, they were having a good time.

“Come on,” Jonas breathed. “Come on, don’t keep teasing me…”

“…nearly keeled over where he stood. Swear to Ra. I thought he was gonna spew that five-thousand-credit chateaubriand all over my cummerbund. And that’s the last time I went sans pants to a formal symposium dinner…”

Whoever was speaking was huge. Tall, broad. It was a man, Jonas knew. The voice was deep and resonant and jovial. Everyone was laughing. He found himself smiling slowly – the sound was infectious. The image was coming clearer. Seven men, three women. Most of them in some sort of uniform. And an undercurrent, a sound, something thrumming and pulsing and warm. An engine. Were they on a plane? A boat?

“Weren’t you the keynote speaker for that, too, Cotton?” One of the women. Mirthful, wry voice. Older. Something about the sound of it evoked an emotion Jonas couldn’t place. Pride, but also formality. He wanted that voice to take notice of him and commend him…for what, he couldn’t tell. But he felt like he wanted to prove himself.

“Easy enough, then – he could use the podium as a cover. No one would ever know.” Man’s voice. Clear, easy. An afterthought of melancholy in it, though. Something perpetually youthful about it, too. He liked this voice. This voice dreamed big, just like him.

“Hey, Captain, we’ve got a comm. up from Sien-Sien,” came another woman’s voice. Bright, polished, gleaming. Energy. Young. “They want to postpone the conference ‘til Tuesday. I think we can just switch them around with Eiksberg Fields since they’re both so close.”

“We’re not booked for lodging at Eiksberg,” the older woman noted. “Anyone have a problem staying on-board another night, then?”

The chorus of ‘no’s was so automatic than Jonas could feel how content they were to stay where they were. On-board? It was a ship, then. But those names…he’d never heard of them before. ‘A comm. UP from Sien-Sien’? What did that mean? He was starting to get excited, inexplicably.

“Someone else take Eiksberg Fields,” said a new voice, a man with a touch of grit to his throat. “I know s’my turn, but I’ll take Sien-Sien. I’d rather head the conference for a GAF base than a colony.”

“I’ll take it!” another man’s voice, jaunty, devil-may-care.

A second chorus of empahtic ‘NO’s erupted.

“Gull, we are not letting you near a microphone after what happened on New Ford,” declared a thinner, older man’s voice. “You can’t use the phrase ‘ram our cocks down the space-brains’ throats’ at an official press conference detailing the discovery of sentient life outside our galaxy.”

“Uh, can and did,” retorted the other fellow, Gull, glibly.

“Nova…what’s wrong?” The older woman, again. The Captain.

And one of the figures came into sudden, sharp focus. A woman, dressed in a shift of dark grey, her long hair plaited over one shoulder. She was sitting motionless at the table with the rest of the blurred figures, but he could see her. She had a clarity the others lacked.

And she was staring right at him.

“Jonas,” she murmured distantly, almost unconsciously.

He cried out and staggered back. The images faded. The space was empty. Panting, he turned and hurried to collect his gear and the Hell out of the park.

“He’s here, again,” Nova noted over coffee and biscuits at the table. The rest of the crew looked around slowly, the unified reaction making her smile a little.

“I don’t know how I feel about this,” Crane said, shaking her head. “And I don’t know if it should be reported to someone.”

“Who are we gonna tell?” Lincoln posed, shrugging. “Nova’s the only one that can see the kid, he’s not doing anything and I don’t think anyone here wants to have the GAF or Isely poking at us again.”

Nods all around.

“Besides,” Sadie volunteered, “Emerald says he’s not dangerous, so I guess we can just wait it out.”

“Em, want to weigh in?” Parr called.

The voice floated, disembodied and comforting, over the comm. system. “It’s temporal,” Emerald offered, “I know that much. I don’t know why it’s happening, though. It could be a crossed wire in the time continuum or a genetic link between Jonas and one of you, or maybe just a pocket of paradoxical quirkiness.”

They all smiled faintly at how human Emerald’s conversation had become over the last couple of years. “Do we have any theories about it stopping or getting stronger?” the Captain asked generally. “Not that he seems to be bothering Nova, but I’d like to know if I should add him to the crew roster anytime soon, if he’s going to be a permanent guest.”

“Well, it’s been over a week since Nova first sensed him” Jackson mused. “And she’s able to sense him for an hour or so every morning, pretty much consistently. Any changes, darlin’?”

“No,” Nova answered. “I can see him, but it’s like looking through thick fog – just a shape, really. And sometimes I can pick up small things from him, like emotions or snippets of thought or speech. I know his name, I know he…likes us? I know he some sort of mechanic or…electrician. Beyond that, nothing concrete. I get the sense that he can see us better than I, him.”

“I have a suggestion,” Emerald said. “I can, to a degree, manipulate temporal fluxes. Nothing outstanding – it would take many, many Viridians to accomplish what the Crimson…did with the Captain.” She paused out of respect, but Avery’s expression remained placid. “However, I think I can uncouple the link, as it were. In theory, at least. I’ve never tried such a thing. We don’t use the ability in such a way.”

“How do you use it?” Sadie asked with interest.

“Later,” Crane said. “I’m interested, too, but let’s focus on Jonas for now. Emerald, do you need anything special to do what you’re proposing?”

“No, not really,” the alien replied. “Just time to concentrate, focus. Nova’s assistance might be valuable as well, if she’s willing.”

“Of course,” Nova said.

Denton sighed. “I feel sort of bad for the guy,” he said. “I mean, this is probably the craziest, most amazing thing that’s ever happened to him, and here we are talking about how we need to boot him out.”

“I know, but it’s not good for him to be able to see and hear us,” Crane reasoned. “Time is never something we should play with. If he’s from the past, it’s dangerous for him to know about the future and if he’s from the future, it’s dangerous for us to know about him. Take all the time you need, Emerald, but we need to correct this.”

Nova couldn’t tell what of the conversation Jonas had heard, but she could sense his sudden unhappiness, a faint spark of panic. She tried to send reassurance and apology his way, but couldn’t be sure he understood.

“I’ll need about four hours, Captain,” Emerald said.

“Do it,” Avery said, wondering why her original impulse was to say ‘Make it so’.

It worked and they were gone. I didn’t want to believe it would. Hell, I didn’t believe it had happened for the longest time. I just spent the day at Epcot with a bunch space faring time travelers. It sounds insane just to write it, but it happened. They went home. Back to their ship. Back to the… Okay I’m not going there.

It was really surreal today. Four hundred and eighteen years. Humanity hasn’t seemed to change too much. We’re in space, but that hasn’t changed our spirit and our very nature. The crew proved that to me. They told me stories. Things they’ve done and seen. They joke and they laugh. There is more there though. I can see in the way they are comfortable with each other. They are more than an ordinary crew of an ordinary ship. They are a family. That much is obvious. Hey, maybe she had something going on with that comment about picking things up.

I guess I really do have only three choices now. I can live with knowing that I experienced something fantastic and will never be able to tell anyone. I can tell people and have them think I’m crazy. Possibly commit me, at best ignore and ridicule me. The third choice, of course, is to use this. To do what I’ve been hoping to do for a long time now. I can write that book that can make me famous.

Decisions decisions…

Colors in Space

By Jonas I. Kade

“She wasn’t the biggest ship in the fleet. No, the Tokyo cruisers dwarf her. She was a good ship though. One befitting her crew and her captain. A crew and captain handpicked to man her. The GSS Valdosta was finally ready for her maiden voyage.”


Not too bad of a start, right?

SQUEEE