Spinward Fringe Broadcast 7: Framework by Randolph Lalonde Page B

upright.
    “You mean, on the Triton?” Larry asked,
hopefully. He loved the ship, but freedom would be a sudden and
joyous blessing.
    “No, with me. You’ll get caught. You have to
run, keep hiding."
    Larry crossed the space between them and
helped the man by propping him up against a tree. His face was
ashen, and there was no strength left in his frame, which looked
like it was once sturdy, even powerful. "My control unit has a
basic medical treatment component. I can try and get you on your
feet before the Carthans get here," Larry said.
    "Don't bother. There's something wrong with
the containment suit. Been dosing me with temporal rads since I
gated from Mount Elbrus. At least now I know why I've been sick
these ten years,” replied the traveller.
    It was an awful, mysterious truth of
temporal radiation. One dose in the future would make you ill in
the past, a paradox even the brightest minds on Earth couldn't
fully puzzle out. The Victory Machine had a nine year reach by
default, so it only made sense that this man was ill for nine years
before he was exposed, inasmuch as anyone could make sense of
temporal radiation. "What am I supposed to do? Where am I supposed
to be?" asked Larry, desperate for direction. "Am I the next bearer
in line?"
    The man began to laugh but coughed violently
instead. Once it passed, he shook his head. "No, the bearer who's
been passing me information from the future is here somewhere. They
never let on who they were, but I think I know where they want me
to be. At least I’m sure the rogue element is nearby. I don’t know
much about you though, except you’re not supposed to get caught
with me."
    "There's nothing I can do to help you?"
    "No. We're working a bigger picture, the
next and me. You get to wander around doing what you're doing until
you get a better idea. Just don't try too hard,” replied the
traveller.
    "How is the next bearer going to get his
hands on this thing if the Carthans are busy studying it?"
    "Who says the next bearer will be a man?
Besides, with the suit serving as secondary containment, there's no
way anyone but the bearer will pick this thing up. It's not like
the Carthans, or anyone out here, for that matter, know how to
repair this thing. No one's built one for a few centuries."
    Larry looked at the weary man for a moment.
"How long am I going to be here?"
    "What, alone? Don't worry, you'll come out
fine. Just think of me next time you're feeling you got an unfair
hand, that'll set you straight," the bearer chuckled ruefully. "Now
get going. You have a place, Larry Nevil. You'll see where you're
needed when the time comes. For now, it's time for you to forget
your birth name and embrace the one you chose when you left the Sol
System. That's all I can tell you."
    The tip wasn’t as satisfying as he’d like,
but it was better than nothing. "Thank you for your service, I'll
remember you," Larry hesitated a moment. "I never got your
name."
    "Roman. Just call me Roman. I gave up my
birth name over twenty years ago."
    "Thank you, Roman," Larry said as he
activated his stealth suit. The Carthan port guards were close, he
could hear them in the garden. "I'll wait," he said, knowing no one
could hear him. "I'll be ready when the time comes." It was a
resolution he didn’t need anyone else to hear.

Chapter 11
Potential
    Jonas was still trying to process the idea
of boarding the ship that would take him and his engineering team
to All-Con Prime. Academy training was supposed to prepare you for
it - the departure, the adjustment - but it didn’t do the whole
job.
    Everyone knew the war raged on there, and
that he was a very small part of Freeground’s final, all-or-nothing
push to win a war that had cost too much in lives and resources.
That ship, the Courser, was going to be his home for a long time if
the war continued to draw on. Past the boarding ramp, he could see
the thick, battered hull. There were signs of repair all across its
three-quarter kilometre