"Someone must have renewed the contract," Tomm said, "and brought the BMK in. But when?"
"And we have an even further problem," Hunter said. "These disruptions that occurred while I was away. I'm sure I was the cause of them, though I'm not sure I know why. My aircraft is based on Time Shifter technology. And I know that shifting time inside something whose time has already been shifted is not a smart thing to do. That's what happened with the missing two seconds Gordon spoke about. That's why I insisted on such an unusual takeoff. But even though I left this planet — and presumably pierced the time bubble — operating my machine still caused these disruptions. Ones much greater than simply losing two seconds of time."
Zarex just shook his head.
"This whole time-space thing confuses me," he confessed. 'Time Shifters. Frozen time. Time bubbles. I just don't understand it."
"Not many people do," Hunter said. "But I think I have a theory about what happened."
"Tell us," Tomm urged him.
Hunter took a healthy slug of his drink now. "Could it be that not just the Home Planets are encased in time bubbles, but the whole system itself?"
Tomm and Zarex considered this for a moment. "Including the sentinel moons?" the priest asked.
"Yes, exactly," Hunter replied. "It's really the only thing that makes sense. I flew two times down here while we were on the lam. That resulted in two seconds of lost time, reversed time, frozen time, whatever you want to call it. But those flights were short, and I didn't come anywhere near full ultraoverdrive."
"Go on," Tomm urged him.
"But what if the entire system was locked in a time bubble? And anytime I go into overdrive, I disrupt it. Back here, out there. Everywhere. It's the only explanation. It also could explain why those BMK troops out there look like throwbacks to the last millennia."
"My God," Tomm whispered. "We know the people down here are stuck in a piece of near-frozen time. But could it be that those dopes up on Moon 39 are, too? And is it possible that they don't know it either?"
Hunter shook his head. "Could it be that they took a contract for this, what? Some nine hundred years ago? And have been living up there ever since, causing havoc when needed, but at the same time unaware that so much time has gone by?"
"It's certainly a clever ploy if you are paying them by the hour," Zarex said.
"But even still," Hunter said. "We know they haven't been out there for the entire four thousand years of this. Someone hired them, and took advantage of them, within this last thousand years. Perhaps just as they'd taken advantage of other earlier armies. That to me means this whole thing is an ongoing enterprise. The BMK are just the lackeys. Whoever wanted to keep the people of this place, America, and all the other planets behind bars is still out there. Or at least they were a thousand years ago."
Hunter needed his drink refilled. He felt like his head was about to pop.
"But, whatever their situation," he began again. "There is one thing we can be sure of. The BMK is just sitting out there, waiting for something to do. And now we know what spurs them into action: spaceflight. So if there is only one way we can help our hosts here, it will be by warning them off any ideas of space travel, lest catastrophe hit this place yet another time."
"Yes, an important point," Tomm said after a long pause. "But a question for you, brother Hunter — possibly unimportant in light of everything else. But I'm a curious man and I've never asked you before: Where did you go in those first two flights after we had split up?"
"Yes, brother," Zarex added. "Why did you feel it was so important that you take to the air, especially since at that time, we had agreed to keep a low profile?"
Hunter felt his heart twist a little more inside his chest.
"Well," he began uneasily, "there was this girl, and—"
But before he could say another word, the doors to the conference room flew open and Gordon hurried in. He was followed by the other six senior agents. They all looked very worried.
"Please don't ask us how," Gordon told them. "But we've heard everything you've been saying. And I'm afraid we have some very disturbing news."
They all gathered in front of the huge screen that dominated one of the blue room's walls.
Gordon pushed a button, and the screen came to life. Suddenly they were looking at a location somewhere out in the American Southwest desert. It seemed to be a base of some sort, extremely isolated and surrounded on all sides by high mountains. It was early morning out there, not yet sunrise. Still in the waning darkness, an unmistakable silhouette could be seen: a rocket standing attached to a launch platform.
Hunter groaned. This vehicle looked older than the tub of bolts he'd seen lift off from Tonk. It was also bigger, fatter, and had the same blunt nose and four fins to stand on. Steam was venting from several places along its fuselage. Technicians could be seen moving like ghosts around the launch pad.
"Next to your presence here, this is one of the best kept secrets on the planet," Gordon told them. "Not even our Vice President knows about it. It's a black program we've been working on for almost fifty years now. It was due for launch within days."
"You mean that thing is operational?" Hunter asked.
Gordon nodded. "We'd hoped for an orbital flight. But there was also a secret option for a lunar mission."
This was not good. If the rocket was allowed to launch, it could trigger an invasion of the Planet America. One that the tiny world couldn't possibly resist for very long.
"You simply can't launch that vehicle," Hunter said finally. "It would have catastrophic consequences."
"I don't need further convincing of that," Gordon said. "After what happened earlier today, I'd just as soon go along with whatever you guys have to say. But, correct me if I'm wrong: If we have been constantly striving for spaceflight, only to be smitten down every time it's in our grasp, wouldn't this also be true for the rest of the planets in this system?"
The spacemen looked on the CIA man with newborn respect. Even though he'd obviously listened in on their private conversation, he was picking up on this new game pretty well.
"Other planets might be close to the level of development you've reached again here," Hunter said. "For all we know, your cultures might all be on a similar track, just as your planets all follow the same orbital plane. There's a chance that one of the other planets is on the verge of spaceflight, just days away as well. Maybe more than one. They aren't aware of all this. They are wide open to being slaughtered."
"We can't stand by and allow such a thing to happen," Tomm added. "No matter what planet it might happen on. We know a terrible secret. As honorable men, we are duty bound to not stay quiet about it."
"But what are you saying exactly?" Gordon asked.
Hunter stared at the big screen for a long time, then told Gordon, "He's saying it's time to meet your neighbors."
17
It took all of forty-eight hours.
The plan was simple. Do a little scanning, a little spying. Identify the numero uno leader of each Home Planet, then make contact with them quietly, subtlely. Lay out the Moon 39 situation, show them the evidence, and let them come to the only logical conclusion.
Then came the hard part. Telling them they now had to take a ride to another planet. Some went willingly. Some with great enthusiasm. Some did not. A microburst from any standard ray gun provided enough punch to stun its victim temporarily. For those who went feetfirst, a terrifying interplanetary trip followed.