No

It took a long time to digest what I had just done. It was weird enough that I had somehow found myself inside some sort of time-traveling craft, but in going back to thwart an event that had prevented the human race from ever existing, I had inadvertently caused the very extinction I had gone back to prevent. I had doomed the human race. Me. An American idiot, just by accidentally destroying an asteroid.

“What do we do now?” After gaping stupidly long enough, I finally found the wits to speak, but my head was still reeling.

She cocked her head slightly. “Why ask me?”

It took a moment to process that, and when I finally did, I was shocked. “Because you’re the one with experience in these things?”

She scowled pensively. “I don’t think so. No, I’m quite certain this is a first for me, too.”

That threw me for a moment. “Okay… okay… so… so you must have come across something like this before?”

Her eyes rolled up in thought. I waited. And waited. Waiting grew into impatience. I bounced on my heels. She didn’t notice. She kept thinking, so I kept waiting. She wasn’t someone I felt comfortable interrupting, even if it was driving me up the wall. Finally, she said, “No. Nothing like it ever.”

She was so calm about it that it was maddening. I snapped, “Don’t you have any clue how to fix this?”

She had the nerve to be indignant. “I am the Interface. I do not initiate functions. I react to the needs of the pilot.”

I knew enough by then to realize that the exchange was going to go nowhere. I needed to be more decisive if we were going to get anywhere. “Fine! Then, as the pilot, I’m asking for suggestions.”

“I suggest that we catalogue this new timeline,” she dutifully replied.

It took a moment to digest that. “You’re the one that suggested going back in time to correct this.”

“That is correct,” she replied. “But more information regarding the situation may reveal the solution to our dilemma.”

I rolled that over in my head for a moment. “What exactly does that mean?”

Her brows knit; she was bothered by my question. “It must be your lack of education, because I thought I had made myself perfectly clear.”

“You want to explore this new timeline?” I spoke a bit more sharply than I should have, because she wasn’t making it easy for me. “I thought you were on my side!”

“This is not a matter of ‘sides’,” she glibly replied. “It is a matter of reconnaissance. I am suggesting that we find out what we are committing to before we act.”

“We don’t have time for that!” I couldn’t believe her. Couldn’t she see what kind of a mess we were in? Couldn’t she see that we didn’t have any time to waste? No! She wanted to go back to the same plan that she had before I took over as pilot! The traitor! I was on my own, and since it was all up to me, I quickly pondered all the time travel movies and TV shows I’d ever seen, trying to remember if there were any that had this kind of plot and what they did to fix it.

“Couldn’t we go back to the moment that we hit the asteroid and stop ourselves from hitting it?” I was pretty proud of myself. That had to be the smartest thing I’d ever come up with.

“And how would we do that?” she crisply asked. Her skepticism deflated my ego quite a bit.

“I don’t know!” I was running on empty when it came to smarts. “Use the tractor beam? Tell ourselves to get out of the way? Something?”

She scowled. “Tractor beam?”

My brain started hurting. “You don’t have one?”

She shook her head at my stupidity. “This is a reconnaissance and research vessel, not a rescue ship. However, as valid as your suggestions might be, there is one significant problem that we cannot overcome. We cannot go back on our own timeline.”

“What?” I demanded, trying to sound irritated. I actually had no idea what she was talking about.

She scowled patronizingly. “We cannot go back in time to undo any mistakes we make. It would create a paradox that you are not qualified to deal with.”

“But we already did!” I couldn’t understand why she wasn’t seeing the situation as clearly as I was. “We came back here to stop the human race from being erased!”

“That is another thing entirely.” She sighed heavily when she saw my own skeptical frown. “It’s a timey-whimey thing. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Why not?” I demanded. “I’m not a moron, you know! Besides, that’s stupid! How can we go back to save the human race but not be able stop ourselves from screwing it up?”

“Because of time differentials,” she replied. She studied me skeptically for a moment, took a deep breath, and tolerantly added, “There is vastly more potential for disaster in deliberately altering a temporal event than there is in accidentally altering one. The creators of this vessel knew that and build safeguards into the system to prevent any action like that from ever happening.”

I scowled harder trying to process that, and finally I think I got it. “You couldn’t do it even if you wanted to.”

“Precisely,” she flatly stated. I didn’t believe her, not entirely, but instead of trying to argue about it, I let it go. After all, it was a timey-whimey thing.

That left me with nothing, though. “So, what do we do, then?”

She shook her head slowly. “I do not know. This is beyond the scope of my experience.”

That stopped me short. Was there no hope after all?

She suddenly stared off blankly into the distance. If she hadn’t been so animated earlier, I would have probably missed it, but as I was aware of it, it was utterly alarming. I nervously edged closer and asked, “Are you okay?”

“Incoming transmission,” she mechanically replied.

I couldn’t believe it. We were millions of years in the past, well before the invention of the radio, and someone was calling us. “From who?”

“Activate monitors,” she instructed, pointing out the necessary toggles. I threw them and the holographic display shrank to a large rectangle at eye level. What I saw of the screen took my breath away. A tree floated in space, rotating gracefully in zero-gee. Behind it was Earth, or so I assumed. The land mass was completely unfamiliar, but the blue ocean was unmistakable. Seeing the world spinning below us, I suddenly felt a lot of separation anxiety with the ground.

“So, you returned for another go at it, did you?” Audio filled the room with a bit too much treble for my taste. Also, a lot of hiss, as if the speakers were shot. “Well, I’ll fix it like always. But first, make it easier on yourself and surrender your capsule. I promise you’ll get a fair trial.”

I had to tear my eyes off the tree to scowl at her skeptically. I didn’t recognize the voice. It certainly wasn’t mine. “Friend of yours?”

She lifted a brow, as perplexed as I was. “No. However, analysis indicates that they are in a DB3000 Temporal Archeologic Reconnaissance and Discovery Integrated System.”

I scowled, not knowing what she was talking about. “Do they all look like trees, or is that a picture of us?”

“It is the same model as this vessel,” she stiffly verified. She snootily added, “And they do not ‘all look like trees’! They employ a particular technology that allows the vessel to blend in with its surroundings and minimize contamination of the native species.”

I peered closely at the monitor and scoffed. “A lot of good that did! Who ever heard of a tree floating in space?”

She scowled. “Can we focus on what’s important, please?”

I winced. She was right. I was getting distracted, but who could blame me? I was in way over my head! Who could focus through all of that?

“Sorry. So, that’s your people out there?” I don’t know why I asked. She was going to shoot me down anyway and make me feel stupid again. I braced for impact.

But instead, she frowned, concerned, and I was suddenly concerned, too. She carefully studied the visual and said, “Apparently. However, their capsule has not yet communicated with this one.”

“What’s that?” She’d thrown me for a loop.

“Every vessel maintains contact with the others,” she explained in a distant manner. “Except when within the time vortex, of course. They share a network of information easily accessible to any capsule that needs it.”

My brows knit on their own. “Like a data base?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, her eyes narrowed at the display.

I tried to salvage my dignity. “Maybe they can’t right now? Maybe their radio is damaged?”

“It’s automatic,” she absently replied, staring at the visual. “They’re very gossipy.”

She tore her gaze off the monitor just long enough to glare at me and say, “Radio damage? They just communicated with us!”

I wasn’t about to lose another argument, so I didn’t even try. “So, why are you so worried about them not talking to each other, anyway?”

“I do not know.” She was more concerned than she let on. In fact, she looked like her world had turned upside down. “It’s… unprecedented.”

“Well?” The demand hissing through the speakers was rude and impatient and came so suddenly that I jumped. “Lower your shields! Now!”

Shields? I leaned in closer to her. “We have shields?”

She looked at me as if I was the stupidest person in the universe. Well, the stupidest human being in the universe, which was no longer saying much. “Of course, we have shields! How else do you think we survived that collision?”

I glanced at the monitor, and the tree floating gracefully in its center. “Are you going to do it?”

“I cannot comply,” she huffily reminded me. “I am not the pilot!”

I glanced at the tree again. “So, what do we do?”

She looked at me, her gaze steady but not entirely unreadable. “You tell me. What do we do?”

I studied the tree. Something didn’t feel right. Maybe it was something the other pilot said or the way he framed it, but something was definitely not right.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But something tells me not to lower those shields.”

“I concur,” she replied.

It took a moment for it to sink in, then I was surprised. “But those are your people.”

“I do not know,” she absently replied, studying the tree carefully. “Perhaps…”

She didn’t immediately elaborate, and then she didn’t get a chance. The voice came through again, demanding, “Lower your shields, or I will be forced to take drastic measures!”

That sounded bad. “What does he mean, ‘drastic measures’?”

“I do not know,” she absently replied. “There is no offensive weaponry aboard a Temporal -!”

The entire room shook violently, and resounding thunder filled the air, throwing me to the floor. The woman shimmered like bad TV reception for a second, but otherwise the shaking didn’t bother her. Before I could even pick myself up again, the voice filled the air.

“That was just a warning shot,” it announced. “The next one will target your propulsion systems. Now, lower your shields and prepare to be boarded!”

I looked up at her, shocked. “No offensive weapons?”

Her brows knit pensively, but she didn’t reply. She didn’t even take her eyes off the display.

I hauled myself to my feet using the edge of the console. “Do we have anything like that and you’re just not telling me?”

“No.” She was blunt. Too blunt. And she incessantly studied the tree to the exclusion of all else. I couldn’t take it anymore.

“What are you staring at?” I demanded.

“I am not staring,” she mechanically replied. “I’m analyzing!”

I couldn’t help frowning as I leaned in to take a closer look at the monitor. It didn’t show me anything that I hadn’t already seen. “Analyzing what?”

“I am analyzing the composition of the alien vessel,” she flatly replied.

“Alien -?” I was confused. “I thought that was your people.”

“As did I,” she absently replied.

I was even more confused. “You mean, they aren’t?”

“Inconclusive,” she replied, still fixated on the tree.

The room shook again, immediately followed by a tremendous boom. This time, I was prepared and grabbed onto the console for dear life. The woman tore her eyes off the monitor just as the voice announced, “I have just disabled your temporal motive systems. You are dead in space. Surrender before I target life support, as well.”

“What did he just -?” I started to ask, but seeing her staring at the center column, I followed her gaze and wasn’t sure what to think. The weird crystal teeth that had been chewing slowly the entire time had stopped chewing entirely, although they remained slightly agape. I glanced at her. She looked white as a sheet. That wasn’t good at all. “What is it? What did he do?”

“They stopped the time rotors,” she quietly gasped. “That should not be possible.”

“The time -?” This one hit me right away. “You mean, we can’t go anywhere? Not even back home?”

“As you no longer have a home to go to, I would say your concern in that regard is moot,” she said, staring in dismay at the crystal teeth. “But yes, for the moment, we cannot access the time vortex.”

I panicked. It was past time for it, anyway. “So, what do we do? Fire back?”

“We do not have offensive weaponry,” she quietly reminded me, still bothered by the time rotors. “And we cannot flee the conflict. I would suggest lowering the shields.”

“For what?” I demanded, not willing to give in just yet. “So, they can finish us off?”

“I do not believe they will harm you yet,” she replied. “If they meant to hurt you, they would already have done so. Apparently, they have the capability.”

“Do not force me to further aggression,” the voice demanded. “Lower your shields and prepare to be boarded!”

“It is either that,” she quietly told me, “Or destruction.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. I had no choice, even if it felt like I was about to make the biggest mistake of my life. I took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay. How do I do that?”

She guided me through the procedure, but her heart obviously wasn’t in it. She acted as defeated as I was, and that only made me feel worse. My hands moved sluggishly and as soon as I threw the last switch, the voice boomed over the speakers.

“Excellent! I knew you would eventually see reason,” it crowed. “Now, prepare for dimensional interweaving.”

I glanced at her, and she glanced at me, frowning.

“Don’t look at me,” she said. “I don’t know what that is, either.”

She suddenly glanced away from the console, and I looked at where she was staring. An invisible bubble had formed in the area where there was plenty of space for it, distorting like a fisheye lens the image of everything seen through it. The center of the bubble immediately sucked into itself, forming an upright, invisible donut, and out of it stepped a human-sized dinosaur. Or more precisely, an upright walking, two-legged, humanoid that looked remotely like a velociraptor from the movies, with a scalp of short black and red feathers and wearing an orange jumpsuit of unknown material tailored to fit it precisely. Its mottled red and black head glanced around for a moment before it fixed yellow eyes, and an odd tubular device clutched in one paw, on us.

“So, human, we finally meet,” it said in long, drawn-out sibilant hisses that told me the speakers weren’t malfunctioning earlier. That was its real voice. “Sadly, every hunt must come to an end, and now, you will answer for your crimes!”