Windows of Time (Story)

Windows of Time

July 2, 2070

The office smelled of cigarettes, a cheap brand, not something Harrison would smoke even if there was nothing else. He removed his hat, placing it on the desk as he sat down. The dim light of the setting sun peaked through the window behind him, glaring off the screen laying before him. The screen surged to life at his touch, quickly reading out its usual greeting.

“Welcome, General Burnside.”

Harrison chuckled, as he input Burnside’s password. “Susan,” the screen accepted and brought forth the general’s personal files. “Sorry, but the general probably won’t be coming back anytime soon. Eyes scanning the files one-by-one, Harrison looked for anything that might be of use. “Stuff on the Ursa Minor, the wormhole, the crew, but what the hell actually happened?”

January 4, 2070

            General Burnside leaned in his chair, his silhouette fading into the darkness outside the window. He lifted a cigarette to his lips, Harrison almost wished it would light his beard on fire. The general puffed and let out a sigh, “So to what do I owe this pleasant visit? Does the bureau seek something from me, or have you come here as my former subordinate?”

Burnside motioned for him to sit down, but Harrison shook his head. “I have been sent as an agent of the bureau, general.” He drew his badge for emphasis. “As you are no doubt aware, in one month you will be sent off to the United States Space Station Ursa Minor. Your crew will consist of Colonel Susan Blithe, Major Arin Jafari, as well as enlisted men Chadwick Minute, Mary Franks, Jeremy Fisher, and Ellen Weaver. You will also be bringing a Raven series android from Mintel Robotics.”

The general puffed again indifferently. “Is the bureau’s job now to repeat information I already know? You’ve taken a big step down in the world, David.”

Harrison ignored the jab. “In the past, there have been numerous complaints and inquiries into your conduct. You have taken Colonel Blithe and Major Jafari with you on numerous assignments and each time we have had, at best, reports of cruel treatment to the rest of the crew, and, at worst, reports of a death of a crew member. The greatest offender being the U.S.S. Beowulf incident, in which Dr. Simon Grey and Lieutenant Janet Thompson were trapped in a section of the shuttle which happened to suffer from an explosion only moments later. I’d like to remind you that their bodies were never recovered and you were never publicly accused for their deaths.”

General Burnside stamped out the cigarette, leaning forward to his desk. “Are you accusing me of murder, Agent Harrison?”

“I am presenting to you an ultimatum, Robert,” Harrison retorted. “At this time, there is too much doubt surrounding your competency in a position of command. I am asking you to step down from this assignment until such time that my concerns may be put at ease, or surrender yourself to my custody right now.”

The general glared, his bloodshot eyes boring into Harrison. “You never were the brightest bulb in the bunch, David. How you ever made major is beyond me. If you had any actual evidence against me, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You would’ve already arrested me and your investigation free to continue without need of an ultimatum. You know what I think? I think you aren’t even here in an official bureau capacity.”

Harrison flinched. “General, I am asking you to please reconsider your assignment to the Ursa Minor. The station’s position near a wormhole makes it an especially deadly location. I am simply thinking of the safety of your crew.”

Burnside rose from his seat, his powerful body towering over Harrison’s small frame. “I’ll tell you this right now, ‘Agent.’ You would have to drag me out of here in cuffs to get me to give up command of my station, and since you don’t have any evidence against me, or approval by your own superiors to be here, I suggest you get the hell out of my office before I have you reported. You don’t want to be disgraced a second time, do you, David?”

October 16, 2070

            “Is this all you have, Agent Harrison?” Deputy-Director Fowler flipped through the report before him, his eyes glazing over the finer details. “Your investigation appears to be somewhat lacking.”

Harrison breathed deeply, “With all due respect, sir, had you heard out my requests months ago to launch a full-scale investigation into General Burnside, I would have much more information to provide at this time. As it is, whatever secrets the general had appear to have been taken with him to his grave.”

“Slow down, Harrison. We don’t even know for sure if Burnside is dead.”

“When you and your entire crew lose contact for five months, sir, I believe it is safe to assume them killed in action,” Harrison responded.

Fowler sighed, “Even if General Burnside is dead, he was considered a hero after the Orion Conflict. Even if you do find something against him, which I’m not holding my breath for, what would be the point? The man’s a hero, a dead hero at that. You’d be besmirching his name.”

“All I wish for is the truth, sir. That’s the exact reason why I’m in the bureau at all.”

“I’ll ask you the same question I asked you almost a year ago then, are you sure your investigation is in fact driven by a quest for truth, or are you motivated by your history with Burnside?”

Harrison hesitated, his fists clenched. “A desire for truth, deputy-director.”

 

March, 2064

The shuttle was a thing of beauty, even when motionless. Harrison stood by as crates of food and supplies were loaded onto the great, steal vessel, the U.S. flag shining with reflected white on the hull.

“Makes going into space a little easier, doesn’t it?” General Robert Burnside loomed over him, casting a shadow that swallowed his own. “This gonna be your first time in space, lieutenant?”

Harrison nodded sheepishly, “Yes, sir. I’ve been doing just ground and desk work before now.”

“What kind of work did you do?”

“Information and Investigation, sir,” Harrison answered. “I specialized in researching and analyzing the technological capabilities of our rivals. I was under the command of Colonel Rogers when he discovered Canada had made greater advances in their wormhole program than we had anticipated.”

“That was big news at the time,” Burnside said with a grin. “It put us on our toes with Canada for a while, especially when we learned Silmani Robotics was selling them stuff that we had never heard of. Whole incident smeared Silmani’s name and put Mintel Robotics ahead.”

“That’s right, sir. I was with the colonel when he made his report against Silmani. After the investigation ended though, I decided to try my hand at something else. I figured going into space was a pretty safe idea,” he explained.

The general raised a curious eyebrow. “You call going into space safe?”

Harrison turned his eyes down in embarrassment. “I figured it’d be pretty safe if the commanding officer was the hero of the Orion Conflict. It’s thanks to you that negotiations with China succeeded. We avoided an entire war in space because of you.”

General Burnside smiled down at him. “You’re a funny kid. Just keep that attitude and follow my orders and everything will go fine.”

June 20, 2070

The report lay on the desk, or at least the outline of a report. Harrison scratched his head in irritation. What was he supposed to say? His investigation into the recent intelligence leak had hit a dead-end. He couldn’t figure out who had sold information on the Ursa Minor wormhole or to whom. He had taken on the assignment because he thought it might be connected back to General Burnside, but he had found nothing to link the general to the leak.

The small office was stacked high with papers and screens on the Ursa Minor and General Burnside. Few people stopped by his office anymore. With every report that came in from the Ursa Minor, with every tidbit of information that might prove harmful to Burnside, Harrison had snatched it up and investigated beyond necessary, or official, capacity.

His desk computer sounded a shrill ring, startling him. He breathed carefully and answered. He was greeted by the stern, unshaven face of Deputy-Director Fowler. “Agent Harrison, am I interrupting anything?”

Harrison shook his head, pushing the incomplete report out of view. “No sir, just doing a little work before I go home.”

“Well, I suppose it can wait until tomorrow, but I have something here that might interest you. Would you care to come up to my office?”

Harrison leaned forward, “Is it on the Ursa Minor?”

Fowler shook his head, “You know I can’t say that unless in person. With information leaks going on lately, I’m not taking any chances.”

Harrison nodded and ended the call. Rushing from his seat, knocking over several files, to the elevator up to Fowler’s office. The deputy-director sat at his desk, waiting for him. “I just want to inform you that in all other instances, you should properly check in with my secretary before barging into my office.”

“Tell him to call ahead next time!” The young woman yelled from the other room.

Harrison ignored her. “What was it you wanted to tell me?”

Fowler sighed, rubbing his eyes. “You might want to sit down.” Harrison did so. “A week ago, a transmission was received from the Ursa Minor. There was too much noise to clearly make out what was going on, but…” Fowler pressed a button on his computer, “Have a listen.”

Static roared to life, a woman screamed. “This is Warrant Officer Ellen Weaver. The station, it’s…” An explosion interrupted her. “The wormhole, there’s something wrong with the wormhole! Chadwick is dead, and General Burnside is…” There was more static, another explosion, and the transmission cut off.

Fowler sat in silence. “This was the last transmission we received from the station. All attempts to contact the station have failed. As of right now, we are declaring the crew of the Ursa Minor to be missing-in-action. It appears that the wormhole connecting Ursa Minor and the Ursa Major station collapsed. We have yet to determine the reason for the sudden collapse or the lack of communication with the crew.”

A million thoughts ran through Harrison’s mind. “Sir, allow me to lead the investigation into this incident.”

Fowler sighed, “Harrison, the incident was in deep space. It would take time to get there and even when you did, there might not be anything left to investigate.”

“I’ve been to space before, sir, and I can’t just ignore a transmission like that! You heard what she said, she mentioned General Burnside!”

“When will you give this a rest, Agent Harrison? Your animosity towards Burnside is well-known, but you have to look at the possibility that maybe he’s not the bogeyman you seem to think he is!”

Harrison leaned forward, “Please, just give me a chance to look into all of this. If this doesn’t lead anywhere, I’ll drop the Burnside angle completely. Just let me try.” Fowler was silent, refusing to look Harrison in the eye. He gave a slight nod.

 

November, 2065

Major David Harrison walked down the hall of the U.S.S. Beowulf. The cockpit was cramped, with General Burnside and Colonel Blithe leaning in close, whispering until they heard his footsteps. Blithe returned to the pilot’s seat, focusing her eyes outside to the expanse of space. Ahead of them, an asteroid field loomed, a minefield in space.

General Burnside turned towards Harrison. How are you, major?”

Harrison nodded, “I’m well sir, looking forward to getting back home.”

Burnside grinned. “I can understand that. We’ve been out here for two months. At least we got a pretty short assignment this time around. I have to say though, I’m not terribly looking forward to getting home. I take it you’ve heard about my recent woes?”

“Yes, sir,” Harrison answered. “They say you’ve had some controversy surrounding you due to the incident on U.S.S.S. Macbeth. Dr. Hanover’s death and all.”

Burnside nodded sternly. “Somehow word has gotten out that I was in some way responsible for Dan’s tragic passing.” He glared at Harrison, “I won’t deny that I’ve had a few unfortunate missions in my day, but not once did I endanger the life of a crew member. The doctor’s death hurt me greatly, and to have accusations brought against me for it is beyond insulting.”

“We all know that you are innocent, general,” Blithe chimed in. “Hanover might have been a pain sometimes, but he was a good man, and not one of us could think you would be in anyway responsible for what happened to him.”

Harrison remained silent. Hanover’s death had been attributed to a malfunction in the medical robot, though it’s hard to say “malfunction” when the machine almost cut the man’s head clean off. Burnside did not take his eyes off Harrison. “You’ve been a good officer, David. I’m glad that you were placed under my command.”

Harrison debated on whether to say something or not. What was he to say? That his trust in the general was not as absolute as it once was? He wanted to trust Burnside, but the look in the general’s eyes now told him that the feeling was not mutual.

A crash rocked the ship. Harrison grabbed a chair, desperately holding on. “What the hell was that?” Burnside demanded.

Blithe struggled to regain control of the ship. “A stray asteroid. It’s punctured the port side of the ship!”

“Damn it,” Burnside grunted. “Harrison, seal the doors of the port side dormitory!”

Harrison reached for the controls. “Is everyone out of that section?”

“Yes, damn it! Just close the doors already before we all die!”

Harrison hit the switch. The screen in front of him listed the port dormitories as “sealed.” He sat back and groaned. Another crash, the ship wavered again. “Another asteroid, in the same place,” Blithe said.

Harrison glanced up as Major Jafari rushed into the small cockpit. “General, the port doors sealed on Grey and Thompson.”

Burnside nodded sadly as Harrison stared at Jafari in horror. “No, that’s not right. That section was empty.”

Jafari shook his head. “Grey was taking a nap and Thompson was going to wake him up. The door sealed before either could get out.”

His heart raced. He clutched his mouth. Was he about to puke? It felt like it. He felt a burly hand on his shoulder. “Everything’s going to be fine, son. Everything’s going to be fine.”

November 11, 2070

A report, a receipt actually, the last lead he hadn’t checked out. It was for General Burnside from Mintel Robotics. Harrison found it at the bottom of Burnside’s files. It was all he had left to go off of. The Mintel building was decorated in deactivated, but polished robots. Everything from combat models to household cleaners. Harrison approached the front desk. “I’m here to see Salutori Mintel,” he said to the young girl.

She directed him to the elevator after letting the CEO know of his arrival. The office was at the top floor. The well-dressed Mintel greeted him with a warm smile. “Agent Harrison, I presume? Welcome to Mintel Robotics. I am Salutori Mintel. How may I help my friends at the bureau today?”

Harrison remained standing, despite Mintel’s offer to sit. “Mr. Mintel, I’m here about a possible business transaction you had with General Robert Burnside.”

Mintel grinned, “Ah yes, Burnside. Fine man, may he rest in peace. The general was a frequent buyer of mine actually. He made numerous orders on behalf of the military.”

Harrison laid the receipt on the desk. “This was the last order he made for the military. What does this mean?” He pointed at the order number of the receipt.

Mintel carefully picked up the crumpled paper. “Order 7236 Raven? The Raven series is an officer android model, good for doing basic tasks aboard ships or stations. Used to be pretty popular until we introduced the Hawk model a while back. The military had most of its Raven models replaced about two years ago.”

“So why would Burnside order a Raven model?” Harrison asked.

“No idea. All I know is that he asked us to modify it so that it would only respond to voice command.”

Harrison was silent for a moment, numerous thoughts running through his mind. “Could a Raven android be capable of harming or killing a person?”

Mintel hesitated, “To harm a person is not in the programming of any of our models, except specific combat types of course. However, our older android could be modified to do so. It’s one reason why we discontinue our older series after introducing a new model. The older versions are much easier to alter the programming for.”

“Did Burnside make this order through his secretary or anyone else?”

Mintel shook his head. “That was the unusual thing about the order. He contacted me personally, no subordinates involved.”

November 12, 2070

“Hey, wait, you need an appointment!”

Harrison ignored the screaming secretary, kicking open Fowler’s office. The deputy-director rose from his desk in shock. “What the hell are you doing, Harrison?”

Harrison threw a file before Fowler. “There. I have reason to investigate further.” The deputy-director opened the file, his eyes slowly looking over the report. “General Burnside ordered a Raven series android from Mintel Robotics. He had it altered to receive commands from his voice only and placed it on the Ursa Minor. The Raven series was replaced by the Hawk series over two years ago on all military ships and stations.”

Fowler looked up from the report. “Yes, it’s all here, but what’s your point?”

“My point is that Burnside specifically ordered an outdated android for the ship just before they were scheduled to leave. All military androids are set to respond to voice commands from all members of the crew, but he set it to only listen to himself. The Raven series are also easier to modify the programming for, specifically their combat settings.”

“You believe that Burnside altered the robot to turn on the crew?” Fowler appeared skeptical.

“I believe that we have enough evidence to have a full-scale investigation into the general’s activities and his involvement into the Ursa Minor’s silence,” Harrison responded.

Fowler looked over the file once more. “Let me take this to the director.”

November 13, 2070

Deputy-Director Fowler looked as though he had not slept. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair uncombed. Harrison tapped his foot impatiently, waiting to hear the verdict for the case.

“I have spoken with the director, Agent Harrison,” Fowler began. “And we agree on many things. We acknowledge that despite your troubled history, particularly the reason for your discharge from the military, being a cause for concern when you first applied to the bureau, you have proven yourself to be a dedicated agent. It was clear to us shortly after your arrival that you had a bright future ahead of you.”

Harrison realized in horror that this meeting was not about Burnside. “However,” Fowler continued, “we also acknowledge that your grudge against General Burnside has been a hindrance to your work and repeatedly clouded your judgment. I personally would like to believe that you were not responsible for the deaths of Dr. Simon Grey and Lieutenant Janet Thompson, but it’s unfortunately impossible to ignore an incident like that with so many officer testimonies against you. And while your investigation into Burnside’s corruption has been admirable, to say the least, the director is not ready to move forward with a full investigation into a national hero based on the research of a dishonorably discharged agent.”

He laid the file between them. “I’m sorry, David, but as of now I am reassigning you. You will work on cases unrelated to the military, space station, or General Burnside until further notice.” He sighed, “You’ve done good work, David, and I want to believe that you are right, but your obsession has brought you and your work down.”

Harrison leaned back, unable to speak. He had heard everything Fowler had said, but could not come to terms with his words. All of this for nothing? Had he wasted all of this time? Would Burnside, even in death, win? He rose from his seat, placing his badge on top of the file. “You know where to find me if you come to your senses.” Silently, he walked out, slamming the door behind him.