Time Castaways #1

  “You mean you stole from people? Couldn’t you get a job?” Ruby asked, trying but not totally succeeding in withholding the judgment from her voice.

  “No, ma’am. Weren’t no paying work for a raggedy homeless illiterate black boy like me,” said Wiley. “It was either steal or starve. After my mama and papa died I hitched a train to Chicago, made out pretty well for a time, and then I made the brilliant move of trying to steal from the captain! Ha-ha! There weren’t no foolin’ him. He caught me by the hand the instant I went for his pocket. I was scared out of my skin, thought I was going to the slammer for sho’, but the good captain had pity. He saw how young and scared I was, and he hauled me on the Vermillion and that was that. Made me a part of the crew, taught me to read and write, and made an honest man out of me.”

  “Oh,” said Ruby. “That’s . . . nice.”

  “Well, I didn’t have to steal my way onto the ship,” said Albert, pushing his glasses up on his nose. “I was chosen by Captain Vincent to be a member of the crew. He said he’d been looking for someone like me. Right, Captain?”

  “I did indeed, Albert,” said the captain. “You are invaluable to our crew. I don’t know what we’d do without you. Ah! See, you even inspire rhyming poetry!”

  Albert beamed.

  “What happened to your parents?” asked Ruby.

  “My mother died when I was a baby,” said Albert, “and my father was killed in your traitorous war.” It took Matt a moment to realize what he was talking about, and then it hit him. Of course. Albert’s father had fought for England during the American Revolution. A decidedly awkward silence followed. Matt squirmed in his chair, trying to think what he could possibly say when the captain came to the rescue.

  “Yes, a sad loss,” said the captain, “but luckily Albert found a new home and family just at the right time. Didn’t you, Albert?”

  Albert nodded and straightened in his chair.

  “We’re all orphans and vagabonds in one way or another,” said the captain. “But on the Vermillion we are family, bonded by our noble cause.”

  “And what is your cause, exactly?” Ruby asked—a bit pointedly, Matt thought. “You call yourselves time pirates? Isn’t pirate just another name for thief?”

  “Time pirate is more of a silly nickname,” said the captain. “It would be more accurate to call ourselves time venture capitalists, but that’s not nearly as fun to say, is it?”

  “So what do you invest in?” Matt asked.

  “Why, having a grand time with time!” said the captain. “Time is the most precious commodity in the world, wouldn’t you agree? One can always accumulate more wealth and power, but eventually everyone runs out of time and can never get more. We time pirates of the Vermillion are determined to live every moment to the fullest.”

  “Hear, hear!” said Wiley, raising his goblet. “To Captain Vincent and the Vermillion!” They all lifted their goblets, glasses, or mugs and drank to the captain.

  The captain beamed. He was idly swinging the black compass back and forth on its chain. Matt’s attention zeroed in on it. It was no bigger than Matt’s palm and it was not made of metal, as Matt had supposed at first, but what looked like polished, sparkling black stone. There were three layers of dials all surrounded by symbols, numerals, and notches etched into the rock and inlaid with gold. It was stunning. It almost looked more like a piece of jewelry than a navigation tool, and yet Matt could almost detect a deep and powerful energy swirling around it, pulsing inside of it, though perhaps that was in his head. He did have a slight pulsing at his temples. Matt squinted at the markings surrounding the dials. Some were Roman numerals, but others were foreign to him. “What do these symbols mean? Is that pi?” He pointed, and the captain jerked the compass away. Matt flinched.

  “You mustn’t touch,” said the captain sharply, all warmth and friendliness suddenly gone.

  “Sorry,” said Matt a little sheepishly.

  The captain softened and smiled. “It’s perfectly all right. It’s natural to be curious about such a powerful object, but the compass, like the ship, can be very temperamental and takes years of training to use properly. If you were to turn the dials willy-nilly you could send us into someplace we might never wish to go—like in the middle of a battle!”

  “Hear, hear!” said Brocco. “Let’s go to a bloody battle! I could use a good brawl.” He took a big gulp out of the tin tankard. His face was a bit red now.

  “Not me,” said Wiley. “I prefer peace and books, thank you. And a good pipe.” He patted his suit pocket where the top of his wooden pipe was sticking out.

  “What’s the compass made of?” Matt asked. “Is that onyx?”

  “Obsidian,” said the captain, tucking the compass back into his sleeve. Matt wished he could look at it some more.

  “So how does it work?” Matt asked. “Where did the compass come from? Did you make it? And the ship? How does the ship transform? I mean, what’s the power source and the chemical makeup? Is it a cellular organism or a machine or both?”

  Captain Vincent chuckled and rubbed at his beard. “I’m afraid some of your questions are above my intelligence.”

  “He can’t help it,” said Corey. “Matt’s above most people’s intelligence most of the time.”

  Matt looked away, his cheeks warming a bit. He knew he could come off as a bit of a know-it-all sometimes, even if he wasn’t trying to be. It was one of the reasons he had so few friends.

  “Well, that’s certainly nothing to be ashamed of,” said the captain. “I’m sure Mateo will do great things. Now to answer some of your questions, I built neither the Obsidian Compass nor the Vermillion,” said the captain. “The Vermillion started out as a normal ship, a naval ship in the British Navy, but she developed a special relationship with the Obsidian Compass not entirely understood by myself. They’re almost like an old married couple, if you will. Sometimes they get along, and other times they have their squabbles and don’t always cooperate with each other, which never bodes well for the rest of us. You have to treat them both very gently.” He patted the table as though he were trying to placate a tantrum-prone two-year-old.

  “And the compass?” Ruby asked. “Who made it?” She sounded much more casual than Matt, but he was glad someone else was asking questions.

  “That is actually a great mystery,” said the captain. “No one knows. At least, no one on board the Vermillion knows.”

  “How did you get it?” Corey asked, his cheeks bulging with food like a chipmunk. Their parents would have been so embarrassed. “Did you steal it?”

  “Corey . . . ,” said Ruby.

  “No, no, it’s a fair question,” said the captain. “There are certainly many who would steal it, if they could. No, I did not steal it. I inherited it from another time pirate,” said Captain Vincent, “one of the first, and the greatest time pirate I ever knew.”

  “What happened to him?” asked Corey.

  A hush came over the table. Brocco froze with a whole chicken thigh in his mouth.

  “Her,” said the captain. “What happened to her.” There was such intensity in the captain’s voice and something told Matt they were on delicate ground, but Corey didn’t always pick up on those kinds of signals.

  “Sorry. What happened to her?”

  “She’s dead,” said the captain in a hollow voice.

  There was an awkward, heavy silence. Matt definitely sensed that this was not a subject the crew spoke of openly at dinner, but he couldn’t help himself.

  “I’m sorry,” he blurted. “But if you can travel through time, can’t you go back to a time when she was alive and simply save her life, like you did with the Mona Lisa?”

  “If only,” said the captain. “While the compass can lead this ship to nearly any time or place in this world, there are certain limitations to what we can actually do, especially when it comes to people. Once certain events occur at any given time, it’s very difficult, often dangerous, to try to change them. I can’t
just go back and find someone from my past as if they were a painting.”

  “Why not?” Ruby asked.

  “Because they’re a living thing, and so am I, and that makes everything so much more complicated. The interaction of living things, especially interactions between humans, in the space-time continuum is a delicate, intricate web, the disturbance of which can cause any number of disasters. There are many risks to time travel, many potential pitfalls, one of the most dangerous being seeing yourself in the past.”

  “What happens if you see yourself in the past?” Matt asked.

  “Hmm. It’s easier to show you than just use words.” He looked around. “Jia, do you have any thread?”

  Jia reached into one of her many bulging pockets and pulled out a small spool of black thread.

  “Thank you.” Captain Vincent unraveled the thread and wrapped one end around Matt’s finger and the other around Ruby’s, across the table. “Time is more like a circle, or a sphere even, like the world. It bends, you see, and eventually meets at the other side. But for our purposes we’re going to pretend time is a straight line. Hold steady, please.” The captain opened his jacket and whipped out a dagger. Matt flinched a little, and Ruby gasped and jumped in her seat. The captain, however, gently placed the knife on the string. “Now let’s say you exist along a certain portion of the string—born in, what, 2007?”

  “I was,” said Matt. “The twins were born in 2008.”

  “Close enough. We’ll say the point of your birth is here.” He pointed with his finger at a random place on the thread. “Let’s say you’re now here.” He moved the knife a few inches down, “and you’ll die in . . . well, who knows? Let’s say 2099.” He moved the knife to another place almost at the end of the thread.

  “If you go back to the time when you were born and see yourself as an infant, you’re far enough apart on the timeline that it won’t matter much. You might experience some strange side effects, dizziness or a little nausea, but nothing cataclysmic will occur. But if you see yourself in the not-so-distant past, like we traveled back to yesterday and we got the timing wrong and you saw yourself as you are now, then . . .” He moved his finger and the knife right next to each other and the thread snapped. “You’ve put too much weight on the delicate thread. You create a fracture in the timeline, one that can cause any number of calamities. You could destroy yourself, quite literally. Or you could cause a natural disaster that could potentially harm others. It could be something as simple as a bolt of lightning, or a cloudburst, and no harm done. Or you could cause some real damage with an earthquake or a tornado.”

  “A tornado?” said Matt. “A tornado is caused by warm winds from the south colliding with cold air from the north. I created one during the science fair in fourth grade with a plastic bottle and dry ice.” He’d also taken first place, but he didn’t mention that.

  “Brilliant!” said Captain Vincent. “You prove my words with your own! You created the tornado! What creates a tornado in the real world, or an earthquake, or hurricane, or tsunami? Shifts in the space-time continuum can shift winds, water, and land. It’s all connected, and believe me, it’s not something to trifle with. You could destroy not just yourself but an entire village or city, perhaps the world. It could all just collapse like a castle of cards.”

  Matt shivered a little. He didn’t have the courage to ask if the captain and his crew had ever caused some terrible disasters with their time-traveling. He remembered seeing an earthquake in South America on the news a couple of years ago that killed hundreds and injured thousands. Could it have been caused by this compass? Or some other group of time travelers? How many could actually do this?

  “What if one of us had been left behind in Paris?” Ruby asked. “Would you have just left us there?”

  “For a few weeks perhaps,” said the captain. “We couldn’t risk going to a time where we’d already been. We’d have to come back a little later than that. But rest assured we would come for you. Unless you’d done something terrible, of course. Then it would be au revoir.” He grinned at them. Matt wasn’t quite sure if he was joking or not.

  “But what about taking us home?” said Ruby. “You said you could take us to the exact time and place you’d found us. Isn’t that a risk?”

  “No, no, no, that’s an entirely different matter,” said the captain quickly. “Because it was the first time you boarded the Vermillion, we can take you back right where we found you with very little consequence. It’s only when you start to time-travel a good deal that things get complicated. We have to keep very good track of all our missions and travels. Wiley keeps a very thorough record.”

  “Yes, it’s in my library,” said Wiley, lighting his pipe and taking a puff. “Come see it and I’ll find good books for all of you!”

  Matt’s brain was spinning, trying to take in all the information. It didn’t answer all his questions, but he didn’t think he could absorb any more just now. His universe had just expanded. Suddenly the world was full of possibilities so much bigger than he ever thought possible. He suddenly felt hot and dizzy.

  “So what’s next?” Corey finally asked. “Do you have another mission planned? Can we come? Where are we going? And when?”

  Matt smiled. Even Corey couldn’t help pestering now.

  “We don’t have another mission planned quite yet,” said the captain. “I’m still working out the details, but we would be delighted for you three to come along, if you wish it.”

  “Sounds good to me,” said Corey.

  “And you, Miss Ruby?”

  “I guess if we can get back home right when we left we can afford to stay for a little while,” said Ruby.

  “And Mateo?”

  “I think . . . ,” said Matt, but he couldn’t finish his sentence. A wave of nausea suddenly hit him hard.

  “You okay, bro?” Corey asked.

  Matt’s stomach twisted. “I think . . . I just need . . .” Matt tried to stand. He needed to run to the bathroom, but it was too late. He leaned over and vomited right onto his plate. There wasn’t much in his stomach, but what was there came out.

  “Ew,” said Corey, leaning away.

  “I’m okay,” said Matt. He tried again to stand but collapsed right back in his chair. He was not okay.

  9

  Time Sick

  Matt closed his eyes, trying to still the spinning of the room. The captain leaned over and placed his hand on Matt’s forehead, then lifted his eyelids like a doctor might to inspect his pupils.

  “Ah. I was wondering when one of you would come down with it,” said the captain. “A little sooner than I would have thought.”

  “Is he seasick?” Ruby asked.

  “No, he’s time sick.”

  “Time sick?” said Corey. “You mean he’s sick from time-traveling?”

  “Of course,” said the captain. “You can’t expect to travel miles and years in such a short time and not expect some physical effects, or even mental ones, for that matter. Mateo came down with it a little sooner than most, but the time sickness usually visits all of us at some point or other. Pike, go and fetch some of the American food in the storeroom for Mateo, some of the things we picked up in New York. Quick now.”

  Pike hopped off her chair and scampered away, pins tinkling along the bottom of her pillowcase dress.

  “I don’t think he should eat anything,” said Ruby. “He’ll just throw up again.”

  Matt opened his mouth to agree, but he couldn’t get any words out. He heaved again.

  “No, no,” said Captain Vincent. “Believe me, this is the best remedy. To eat something from your own time and country can help stabilize your brain and body, put them back in harmony with each other.”

  In a few minutes Pike returned with a box of crackers, a can of Cheez Whiz, and a bottle of Coke. The captain tore open the box, squirted a glob of cheese on a cracker, and brought it to Matt’s mouth.

  “Come on, Mateo, eat up,” he coaxed. Matt shook his head.
He was certain that would only make him sicker. “I promise it will make you feel better,” said the captain. Reluctantly, Matt opened his mouth. The captain shoved the cracker in, and he chewed. “There we are,” said the captain. “Have another.” He shoved in another cracker before Matt could refuse. The captain opened the bottle of Coke, and Matt took a large, fizzy gulp that burned down his throat and chest. He’d never thought he’d see the day when he was forced to eat junk food in order to feel better, but it did work somewhat. He was still shaky, but at least he didn’t feel like he was going to throw up anymore.

  “So . . . when will I get sick?” Corey asked eagerly. “And do you have any Cool Ranch Doritos, by chance?”

  “Hard to predict,” said the captain. “You might get sick tomorrow, or it could take years of travel before you start to feel any effects, and the symptoms can vary. It’s different for everyone, but food from your particular era and country seems to help in most cases. We try to keep stores for all the crew. You’re lucky we just happened to pick up some food in New York at the time you came aboard.”

  “When I start to feel a little time sick I find reading books from around the time I was born helps,” said Wiley. “A little W. E. B. Du Bois or Winnie-the-Pooh! That’s a grand book.”

  “Or just change your clothes,” said Brocco. “Every time I start to feel the time sickness I get a new pair of shoes.” He clicked his heels together two times. His shoes were bright floral oxfords.

  “I think we need to go home,” said Ruby. “Matt doesn’t have the best health, Captain. He sometimes has seizures.”

  “I’m not having a seizure,” said Matt, trying to muster up some energy. “And we’re not going home.”

  “It’s not advisable to travel when you’re time sick anyway,” said the captain. “I think it best we stay put for now, let Matt get his time-traveling legs beneath him before we go anywhere.”

  “But what if he does have a seizure?” said Ruby. “Or what if he gets worse? Is one of you a doctor?”

  “We did have a doctor once,” said Wiley, “but he ran away with a belly dancer in Egypt, and we never saw him again.”