Wildcard by Kelly Mitchell Page B

can travel through
time, but who can say? Thank you, Karl, I had not thought of that
possibility; I do not know why. I will consider it now. I will
attempt to break the code. Karl, what is the first line that you
remember from that poem?”
    “‘We do not know.’” He felt no
hesitation.
    “Is that a trick?”
    “Yes,” said Karl, surprised. “It was in
there twice. That’s why I thought of it.”
    “I know. Which line did you dislike the
most?”
    “‘We do not know.’”
    “Then it is the key line.”
    “How long will it take you to crack it?” the
Sergeant asked.
    “It could be years. Maybe never.”
    “What if Wildcard became capable of time
travel when he was alone,” Sublime asked “and has now lost that
power? What if he has forgotten how?” He sounded right at home in
this range of god concepts.
    Luvray said, “no, that no happen.”
    “Explain your theory, RJ.”
    “What if, during his time alone, without the
present to rectify him, to hold him to our reality, he did things
which are not possible.” Sublime spoke slow and careful, seeming to
weigh each word. “What if he were able to reach into the past,
somehow…” He paused, then excitedly, said. “Or, if he…if he sent
something into the past. He said he doesn’t remember the past.”
    “Feasible, but unlikely. I theorize that he
reverse encoded a message from the existing document. Though we
know he has assumed human form to some extent. It is a compelling
theory, but LuvRay is difficult to doubt.”
    “Why?”
    “He would not say it unless he was correct.
LuvRay does not state things unless they are true.”
    “Why couldn’t he just think it’s true but be
wrong?”
    “Wildcard taught us this about LuvRay before
we knew of his existence. We believe it.”
    “Maybe it was taught to mislead you,”
Sublime said.
    “That is possible,”
Juniper said. “ LuvRay, you were
prophesied by Wildcard.”
    “How does the prophecy go?” Karl asked.
    “It is an epic poem entitled ‘the smoking
mirror’ and attributed to a Mexican poet, written in Spanish. Here
is a translation.”
    The poem was a story of a heroic captain of
a wandering band of free soldiers who fought for the common people.
He was mortally wounded in battle while saving a boy soldier and
gave his men advice before he died.
    “That is how it is to battle beside men,”
said the Sergeant. “When properly done.”
    “Yes,” the General said. “That is how to
lead men as well.”
    The entire team had been hanging, poised,
ready for Juniper to finish the ‘Smoking Mirror’ epic. The boy and the ghost smiled
at each other. The end of the team. After this, though it was
difficult to spot the exact point, they were in opposition.
Somewhere in Position Seven, they would race for the
prize.
    He opened the coms sealed box and took out
Trident, picked up the final data pin. He had checked it out, and
it was clean. In a second, Trident would know the entire plan, and
Juniper would…well, they didn’t really know. That was the risk.
    “5…4…3…2…1… Commence Position Seven.”
    It was a complicated encryption, even with
the key they had just put through, and it took 3.5 seconds for
Juniper to crack the final bit. He put the data pin into Trident
and flipped him on.
     
    “Ah,”said Juniper, “I believe I can
de-encrypt the message now.”
    “How do you know it’s from that particular
play?” Sublime asked.
    The M-E didn’t respond.
    “Hello,” Karl said. No response. Karl tried
to contact the Sergeant on the wrist device. “Trident,” he said.
“What happened? What happened to Juniper?”
    No response. “Anybody?”
    He kept trying. Finally, Luvray said, “I’m
here.”
    “Me, too,” Sublime said. “Sergeant? You
there? Trident?” Dead air. “This is odd.”
    “Very odd,” Karl said. “What do we do?”
    “Gentlemen, I suggest we regroup at meeting
point 3. If the Sergeant and the General and Juniper and Trident
have all been overcome