Hadron Tharn heard the portal alarm go off and looked over at the privacy screen, seeing the face of his older sister, Dalla. He tapped the release code and the door opened.
"Long time no see, Sis."
Dalla winced. She was still playing mama-a job their birth mother had rejected. They had been close during their youth, until she met the future supercop, Verkan Vail. Actually, he rather admired Verkan's single-mindedness and lack of squeamishness. Verkan's, problem was that he still retained too many of the ideals of the old nobility that he'd been born into. Whereas, he had cast off all those old-fashioned ideas when Herr Goebbels and his philosopher friend, Martin Heidegger, had introduced him to the works of Friedrich Nietzsche. 'The overman is free because all his own values flow from his own will.' He remembered those words well and lived them.
"I haven't seen you in a half-year, where have you been?"
None of your business, he wanted to shout, but Big Sis still had her uses. Without her influence, the super Paracop might be taking a closer look at his wanderings and financial dealings. That would not do, at least, now while events were still percolating. "I've been overseeing some of my outtime business affairs."
"I understand from cousin Falro that you've been causing quite a stir in First Level financial affairs."
Falro was in banking and it was useful to know that he still owed his loyalty to Dalla, who he'd unsuccessfully tried to romance-pre-Verkan era. "It keeps me occupied. And, as you know Dalla, the only things our parents left to us were credits." That was a sore spot, he knew it and smacked her with it whenever Dalla tried to play mama. The truth was mother had left the family for outtime adventure and it had been no great loss to anyone but Dalla. He'd been too young to even remember her. He saw mother once or twice every twenty years and ohhhed and ahhhed while she treated him like a distant friend.
"So what really brings you here, Dalla? I've been a good boy; no more visits to Fourth Level, Europo-American Axis Subsector." He'd been fortunate to make his first visits there, while a student at Dhergabar University, secretly ferreting out future business as an agent with Consolidated Outtime Foodstuffs before the Big War in Europo-American, when the entire Axis Sub-sector had been declared off-limits to all First Level commercial and travel bureaus. He still had his contacts, but no one knew of them but Warntha, his personal bodyguard, the only person in the universe he completely trusted.
Dalla blushed fetchingly. She was as beautiful without make-up as most women were with it. She could have been a film star on any Europo-American time-line. If she weren't so useful, he might have been tempted himself. She was so good at protecting him, protecting him from everyone and everything-but himself. It was good to know that she still felt guilty about telling Verkan about his little Axis excursions; fortunately, she hadn't known the half of it.
He decided it was time to punish her some more. "Have you told my esteemed brother-in-law about the Hadron family secret."
She gasped. "No! No one outside of the family knows about that."
"Supercop hasn't even made a guess. I'm disappointed; maybe he's more smitten with my elder sister then I surmised. Isn't it ironic that your husband's toy policeman-Kalvan, isn't it-drops off rather conveniently on the same time-line created by our esteemed great, great, uncountable great grandfather. Don't they still have some devil god named after the old fossil-rather like the family name? Must be the family curse."
Dalla nodded listlessly.
Hadron laughed. "Good old Arnall. It wasn't enough to violate the Para-time Code, but had to create his own time-line by scaring away the natives! Now, it's Kalvan-that's his name, right?-who's getting all the attention. The first Paratime time-line observed from the moment of divarication-ha! Maybe it's time we set the record straight. Told them about how 'ol Hadron Arnall arrived on a Fourth Level time-line a couple of thousand years ago and played god to one of the tribes. How he used to ride around in a big aircar taking the prettiest young girls with him and how he killed and tortured any of the tribesmen who 'objected.'
"Of course, he never brought the girls back-alive. He made such an impression on the primitives that they actually changed their migration route and created a whole new Subsector-Aryan-Transpacific, if I remember. To this day, they even remember him as some sort of an underworld demon. Now, that story would get good old Kalvan off the home screens, but I doubt it would enhance the old family name."
"Now, that's enough, Tharn. That story is not the least bit amusing!"
"It's not a story! I forgot what a prig you turned into when you are around me. Does Supercop get to see this side of you, too?"
"Shut up about him!"
"I see the family temper has bred true."
For the first time since the Big Fight, he saw tears in her eyes. He wondered what nerve ending he'd struck. Maybe Verkan wanted to breed-now there was a frightening thought-little Verkans running around with toy needlers.
"Why do you strike out at the people who love you?"
Oh no, he thought, Big Mama's coming. Time to change the conversation again. "So you still haven't told Supercop the family secret. I bet he already knows."
"What do you mean? That file was purged from the records thousands of years ago."
"And you believe that! Oh no, I guarantee you that in some secret data base in the Paratime Police supercomputer there's a flagged file with our shameful family secret. Probably only accessible by the Chief. Maybe the reason Supercop hasn't brought it up is: he's waiting for you to tell him. Maybe he does love you, after all!"
"Of course he does. You don't mean that really? There can't be any such file."
"Oh, yes I do, Dalla. True, it cost the family a few million credits to keep the story away from the newsies, but I didn't think you were gullible enough to think the Parafanatics buried it as well."
There were worry lines creasing Dalla's forehead and he wondered if anyone cared that much about what he thought. Probably not. Big Sis included.
"Enough of your verbal sparring, Tharn. I came hear to warn you that the Paratime Police know all about your little spy."
For a second he was worried, but little was not a description that would describe his real agent in any manner. "She of the big mammaries. Yes, I admit she's working for me. One of my co-workers daughters who needed a job; I sponsored her for the Kalvan Study Team. I still have friends at the University, even if they couldn't stop my expulsion. After my Axis studies; though I did receive a lot of moral support for what the Paracops did to my fledgling academic career."
"You still don't see the danger in what you did?"
"I wasn't telling the natives about the Paratime Secret, if that's what you mean, just soaking up some local flavor and finishing my studies on Great Men in history. A little firsthand research never hurt anyone; not that most of the University professors would agree-it's too much like work. What I want to know is, why do they always proscribe the 'interesting' subsectors and time-lines? And, how, in Zirppa's Foodtube, was I to do original research on Great Men without any subjects!"
"There are great men all over Fourth Level; the one you picked may have been a catalyst, but by no other definition could he be called great-especially in regards to height, or any other adjective."
"You're wrong there, Dalla, but we could argue over these minor philosophical differences for days. What brought you here this time?"
"I wanted to warn you to be careful. Your tame little spy could get you in serious trouble if she's caught tampering on Kalvan Prime. Verkan and I both like Kalvan and Rylla and I wouldn't be able to stop him again if he caught you involved in some outtime contamination."
"I'll keep that in mind, Dalla. Now I know the end point of sisterly devotion. I have no intention of contaminating Verkan's toy soldier's field of play. And, as much as I do admire, the priestly scoundrels in charge of Styphon's House, I really have no interest in the outcome of their little war. I do like to keep an eye out for any slip in the old family secret. After all, the Zarthani do have written records and who knows what oral history some priestly scribe might have heard around the campfire and saved for posterity."
"You don't think?"
"I really don't. But anything is possible and it's best to have a 'friend' on hand to help contain the damage, so to speak."
Dalla blanched.
"Sorry to upset your placid existence, but someone has to protect the family name." It was hard to keep from laughing at that lie. His sister was too preoccupied to notice his change of expression; it was amazing how love could screw up your life.
"Oh, at the risk of upsetting you further, I just thought I'd let you know that word of the Kalvan's contamination of Aryan Transpacific has some University scholars quite upset. They propose the novel hypothesis that every time Kalvan introduces another piece of military technology the risk of exposing the Paratime Secret grows more real. Some are even asking why Kalvan's not been dispatched for the good of Home Time-Line and all that other patriotic self-serving nonsense. Of all people, they're asking why the Paratime Police aren't doing their job. Your husband might want to consider the ramifications."
Dalla's face, if possible, grew even whiter. He enjoyed that, even if he didn't give a fig over the Paratime Secret being exposed. How could some barbarian from Europo-American teach a bunch of savages enough to uncover a technological marvel that had taken three geniuses in three different fields to concoct and had been the life's blood of First Level for ten thousand years. The probabilities were so low they weren't worth thinking about.
"I'm sorry, Tharn, I don't feel well. I've got to go."
"Sorry to hear that. Be sure and give my best to Supercop." For a moment he was bothered by the thought that almost all their meetings ended this way, with Dalla either in tears or feeling sick-sometimes both. Maybe there was something to the family curse. After all, even father had succumbed in his third century and was now a permanent resident of some Psych-Hygiene house of horrors. No, madness was the escape route of lesser men-not an overman such as himself. Not with all that he had left to accomplish.