Time Smuggler's Blues

By Tony Leonard

In a world where time travel is illegal, smuggling can make you very rich. Or very dead.

Maks Sweeney is a time smuggler, retrieving valuable historic artifacts from the past for his clients. Ancient relics, priceless art, extinct animals – Maks smuggles them all.

Now, Maks is facing the most dangerous challenge of his life: rescuing the kidnapped brother of a wealthy client.  The problem? The boy has been taken into the past, hidden somewhere in the depths of history.  Can Maks find him and bring him home before his kidnappers kill him?  If he succeeds, he gets the biggest payday of his life.  If he fails, death may be the least of his problems.

Combining historical and science fiction, this first novel from Tony Leonard deftly weaves a tale of action and suspense which transports the reader from the distant future to the heart of the ancient world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tony Leonard
• Release date: Jun 18, 2024
• ISBN: 9798227157768

Book preview

Dedication

For my mother, Jane,

who always knew I could do it,

even when I didn’t believe it myself.

Prelude

He saw someone ahead of him in the crowd. Someone who didn’t belong.

The clothes were all wrong, for one thing. Not to mention the overall demeanor. There was something very out of place about the individual, but Sixtus couldn’t tell quite what. The person was wearing a long, black wool cloak with the hood up, much too hot for the day.

The crowd in the marketplace was thick, the bodies pressing against one another as Sixtus tried to move through the throng. He was almost a head taller than the majority of the crowd, though, so he was able to keep a loose watch on the one who’d grabbed his attention.

Rather than stopping to browse any of the market stalls, or haggle over prices with a merchant, the strangely-dressed person walked with definite purpose, occasionally stopping to look back, to look right at Sixtus, as if to make sure he was paying attention, make sure he was following.

Am I being led somewhere? Sixtus wondered. Perhaps. He factored that into his calculations.

The person he was watching disappeared around a corner, but Sixtus was unable to speed up. The press of the crowd was too much. The smell of unwashed humanity, random animals, and plenty of sewage hung in the hot, still summer air like a blanket, the odor so thick it was almost palpable.

Sixtus tried his best to push through the crowd, but he didn’t dare force his way through; the last thing he wanted to injure someone unnecessarily, which would be quite easy in such close quarters. Instead, he remained patient, moving slowly with the mass of people until he made it around the corner.

Gone. His quarry was nowhere in sight. Must have ducked into a building, Sixtus concluded.

He continued to scan the street and buildings around him, trying to locate his target, while at the same time allowing the momentum of the crowd to carry him forward. As he looked ahead of him and to his right, he saw the person he was looking for standing at the end of an alley, staring directly at him. As soon as the person saw Sixtus looking back, he ducked further down the alley and out of sight.

Sixtus pushed his way slowly through the crowd until he was able to reach the mouth of the alley. He could see the man about halfway down, standing in a shadow between the buildings. With a deliberate but cautious pace he proceeded towards the stranger, all the while scanning the street and the stranger for signs of danger or attack.

There were none. The alley was empty except for them.

Finally, Sixtus stood in front of the stranger and sized him up: a male human. Had he been anything else, it would have given Sixtus immediate cause for alarm, not to mention attack. Now that he was in close enough proximity to fully assess the man, he was able to relax his posture some. True, this man might pose a threat to Sixtus, but, so far, there was no reason to believe that.

What do you want? Sixtus asked the man.

I have a gift for you. An important one, the man said, reaching into a pocket on his cloak and pulling out a wooden box, which he thrust toward Sixtus.

Sixtus examined the box without touching it. It was a small box, the size of the man’s hand, plain and completely unadorned. He stared at it for a moment, but made no move to take it.

Go on, the man urged, you’ll need what’s in it to properly complete your mission.

Slowly, Sixtus reached out and took the box, all the while keeping his eye on the stranger. Holding it gently in one hand, he used the other to carefully open the lid.

Inside was a small swatch of cloth. An iridescent blue square, and no longer in pristine condition, either. It was badly wrinkled, as if from neglect. Someone had smoothed it out and folded it so it would fit in the box.

Sixtus was immediately alarmed. Not by the cloth itself –by what was on it. The swatch contained DNA traces, at least four different types, left behind by those who’d handled it. Three of traces were miniscule – they’d faded or been contaminated over time, though they were still detectable.

The fourth DNA signature, though...that one Sixtus knew by heart. It belonged to his target, his charge, the entire focus of his days. He knew it as well as he knew his own name. And it was all over this swatch of fabric.

But. Something about it was wrong.

It shouldn’t be on this piece of cloth, just like the cloth itself shouldn’t be here. This type of fabric didn’t exist yet.

Go ahead, my friend, the stranger said, take it. There’s more.

Carefully, Sixtus removed the fabric from the box, not to examine it further (that wasn’t necessary) but to see what else might be in the box. He found a small card underneath. Written on the card was a long series of numbers. Numbers Sixtus recognized – geographic coordinates, a date and a time.

As he was trying to process this new information and what it all meant, Sixtus saw the stranger reaching back into his cloak. This time, there was no doubt about what he retrieved: Sixtus knew a gun when he saw one, especially a particle-beam gun. As he started to calculate how best to defend himself, the stranger quickly turned the gun around and offered him the handle. He doesn’t intend to destroy me, Sixtus thought. He reached out and took the gun before the stranger changed his mind.

Do your job, the stranger said. It was a command, not a suggestion. Then, suddenly, the stranger disappeared into thin air with a slight pop.

Realizing what this new information meant, Sixtus began to make a plan.

Chapter I

Time sickness, or the shakes as most people call it, is nothing to joke about. Imagine a combination of jet lag, motion sickness, and epilepsy. Then you begin to get the idea. It only happens when you travel forward in time; it’s the body’s response to sudden temporal displacement, and let me tell you, it’s not pretty. Nor comfortable. Shaking in your limbs is the least of it – it can also include profuse sweating, grand mal seizures, and violent vomiting. The further forward you travel, of course, the more likely you are to get it and the worse it will be when it does hit you.

Considering I’d just traveled a little over two hundred years into the future, I knew I had only a few minutes before the shakes hit me hard. Ordinarily that wouldn’t be a big deal. I’ve been through them many times before, so I know how to handle them: stay calm, lie down somewhere soft, and stay hydrated until they pass. Don’t eat anything, even if you think you can, because trust me, you can’t. Just relax and let the sickness wash over you until your body adjusts in a few hours.

Which was exactly my plan, as soon as I made it out of the sewer.

Normally, by the time I’ve made it to the sewer, I’m safe. Who in their right mind patrols the New York City sewers? No one, that’s who. Which is why I almost shit myself when the first ion blast hit just to the left of my head, leaving a hole in the wall I could easily walk through.

I didn’t stop to wonder why I was being shot at – frankly, it’s not that unusual an occurrence with me. Instead, I dashed around the corner of the now-open wall, determined to put some distance between myself and whomever was pissed at me this time.

I could feel my legs starting to vibrate. Not good, not good at all. If I didn’t get somewhere safe, and fast, the shakes were going to leave me a pitiful vibrating mess on the ground, a perfect target for anyone with a grudge and a particle gun.

Once I’d put several thick walls between me and my pursuer, I switched off my light to let my eyes adjust to the darkness. I knew this area pretty well, so I thought I might make it to safety better in the dark. That depended, of course, on who or what was chasing me, and how they were equipped.

So, of course, that’s when I threw up. No warning either; as soon as I realized I was going to hurl I did, right into the darkness in front of me. It felt like everything I’d ever eaten was coming out of my mouth and nose.

Here’s a news flash for you: it’s impossible to vomit quietly. And in the sewers, sounds reverberate off the concrete. I wasn’t just vomiting up food, I was vomiting echoes as well.

As soon as I stopped convulsing, I began making my way through the dark tunnel as quietly as I could. Stealth was the name of the game here.

Suddenly, there was another explosion of light and concrete inches from my head. I threw myself onto the damp floor just in time to see another blast destroy the wall where my head had been. I glanced back to see who or what fired it, but the darkness I’d hoped would protect me was now working against me. I rolled until I hit the far wall, then used it to quietly pull myself to my feet. Just as I got up, another ion blast struck the floor next to my foot close enough I thought it had taken off my heel. At that point, I decided to say fuck stealth and began to run as fast as my trembling legs would carry me.

That’s when I heard the distinctive low whirring sound made by tank tread on cement. Tank treads could only mean one thing: a TED was chasing me. Fuckity fuck fuck! This situation just became exponentially worse!

I ran past an access tunnel leading up to the street. Just enough light was filtering down from above that I was able to cast a quick glance back to confirm my fears that it was a TED chasing me. It wasn’t – it was three of them.

TEDs are Time Enforcement Droids. Think of them like the cops only a lot more efficient; plus, they never want to stop for doughnuts and coffee.

Fortunately for me, the three chasing me were just plain old patrol droids, which meant they were a lot less intelligent than the more sophisticated tracker droids. Tracker TEDs were far more advanced, and focused specifically on one very, very unlucky offender. Trackers follow you wherever or whenever you run. The last time I had a tracker after me, I nearly died...several times. I’d much rather deal with patrollers.

Patrol droids are two things – relentless and efficient. They’re built low to the ground to give them stability, all-terrain tracks instead of feet or wheels, and a spade-shaped head on a thin stalk of a neck. They only stand about four feet high, but that’s four feet of hyper-efficient killing machine, packed with sensors and nasty weapons. These things don’t shoot first and ask questions later - the idea of asking questions never occurs to them. They are strictly for destruction, administering instant street justice to anyone they catch mucking about with the timeline.

People like me.

The new knowledge that it was TEDs chasing me changed the equation significantly. There was no point in trying to hide – they were equipped with heat sensors and DNA trackers that would allow them to find me regardless of how dark it was or how quiet I managed to be. My only chance at this point was to outrun them the best I could. They were relentless, but they weren’t fast.

I dashed across the tunnel in front of me and into a side tunnel, hoping that my knowledge of the sewer layout and some speed would keep me ahead of them. My life, at this point, depended on two things: whether the TEDs were able to access accurate sewer maps this far below ground; and whether I could keep the shakes from completely incapacitating me before I reached safety.

That last one scared the hell out of me, because I could feel both my arms and legs becoming weaker as I ran. I wasn’t going to make it much longer. As soon as the shakes really kicked in, I knew I was done for. The TEDs could take their time and roll up on me while I lay on the ground, puking and seizing. Tracking me through the darkness would be a piece of cake for them. It all came to how long I could hold out, and if I could reach my destination in that amount of time.

I ran as fast as I could down the tunnel, trying to ignore the sewage splashing all over me. Sometimes, it’s best just not to think about what you are running through. What worried me most was that I could feel my stomach starting to do backflips again. It wasn’t possible there was any food left in me, but apparently that wasn’t going to stop my body from trying its best to turn me inside out. I had to get to safety, and fast.

Two ion blasts slammed into the floor next to me as I ran, almost sending me face-first into the reeking black water. What was worse was that they came from two different directions. The TEDs had spread out, trying to outflank me. That answered the question about whether they could access the sewer maps down here – they could.

It was the heat sensors and DNA trackers that would be my doom. No matter how far I ran, the TEDs would always be able to find me. I needed a way to throw them off at least long enough to get my stomach settled.

My stomach was roiling. I knew I wouldn’t be able to run much further. Fun fact: just like you can’t watch yourself sneeze, you can’t run and vomit at the same time.

An idea occurred to me, one that made me cringe but also gave me a spark of hope. I took the next tunnel to the right, then an immediate left. I was headed for a central junction point, where a number of the tunnels came together. It formed a wide-open space, where I’d be pretty much a sitting duck for the TEDs if my gamble didn’t pay off.

Apparently, I outdistanced the TEDs, even running on shaky legs. They aren’t fast, but they never get tired. I, on the other hand, was about done.

My stomach was doing somersaults as I came around the final corner and into the central junction. At least one of the TED’s was right on my heels, firing at me constantly. I was ducking and weaving the best I could with unreliable legs, trying to prevent its targeting computer from getting a good lock on me and turning me into random loose atoms. I’d grown rather fond of the shape my atoms were in, and wanted to keep them that way. As I rounded the corner, though, my heart leapt in my chest – I could hear a low skritching noise coming from the darkness up ahead. I was in luck.

Luck, in this case, took the form of thousands of sewer rats gathered in the middle of the junction. As much as I hate rats (which is a lot), I dived into the middle of the bunch. The rats squealed in indignation at this trespass, crawling all over my body, covering me in their gray furry bodies. It was disgusting; enough to make me start puking again as I lay there on the floor of the sewer.

But it worked. The TED which was directly behind me came rolling into the junction and stopped in its tracks. Its heat sensors were being flooded with excess data from the rats scurrying everywhere, while the rats’ motion and the sewage I was lying in dispersed whatever DNA trail I was leaving. I watched as the other two TEDs converged with the first one and all three sat motionless, their scanning systems trying to locate me.

TEDs are destruction machines, but fortunately they aren’t random destruction machines. They identify a target and do everything they can to destroy it; their programming, however, prevents them from harming anything but their target. Until the rats ran off and they could get a clean shot at me, the TED boys were paralyzed by their own operational parameters. That paralysis would only last for a few seconds, but those were seconds I desperately needed.

I was dry-heaving on the ground, trying to keep an eye on both the TEDs and my new rat buddies. I wasn’t going to be able to outrun the TEDs – I was far too weak from the shakes. And the rats, being rats, would surely fuck off and go take care of important rat business at any moment. I had to move and move quickly. The entrance I was headed for was only about a hundred yards away, down one of the side tunnels. Getting there, with or without the TEDs in pursuit, was the challenge. What I needed was a chance to ditch the TEDs and make my way down the tunnel at whatever pace my body could handle.

So, at the risk of making the situation even worse, I did the only thing I could think of – I jumped back in time about twenty minutes before my arrival.

It wasn’t a pretty jump, to say the least. I went from lying on my side in sewage trying to protect myself from angry rats to...lying on my side in sewage in the middle of a large group of very surprised and confused (soon to be angry) rats, which immediately began crawling all over me while loudly squeaking their surprise and displeasure at my sudden appearance.

But at least the TEDs were gone.

I struggled to a sitting position, then finally stood on wobbly legs, all the while brushing rats off of me. I’d been bitten numerous times, and I could see scratches all over my arms. I’m sure my face was a mess, too. Between the sewage and the vermin, there was no telling what diseases I might have been exposed to. Whatever germs or bacteria might be floating around inside me would just have to wait, though. I had more immediate threats to my life.

Slowly, I began to make my way down the correct tunnel, bracing myself against the damp wall. My legs could barely support me. The jump backwards had restored a tiny bit of my strength; at least I wasn’t nauseous any more. My light was just able to pick out the blank wall I was approaching. This tunnel dogeared right about ninety degrees, but I wasn’t going quite that far.

There was a loud pop behind me, followed immediately be two more. The TEDs had followed me.

I knew they would, but I’d hoped I’d be able to get away before they managed it. I could hear them rolling into the tunnel directly behind me. In seconds, I’d be trapped: a brick wall in front of me, three murderous droids behind me, and no more rats to save me.

I could hear a whirring from behind me as the TEDs adjusted position and brought their weapons to bear. I could just see the alcove which was my destination ahead of me on my left; more an indentation in the wall than a room or a tunnel, I threw myself at it with all the strength I had left just as each of the TEDs unleashed a volley of ion blasts my way, a coordinated attack with them shooting at different levels and angles in an effort to fill the tunnel with the deadly beams.

My leap was a foot short, but close enough I was able to use my arms to pull myself into the alcove and roll backwards against the wall.

As soon as I touched the back wall, my eyes were slammed shut by the bright sunlight. I’d made it!

I was no longer in a damp, stinking sewer being pursued by TEDs; instead, I was lying on a thick carpet of green grass and clover under a bright summer sun and a clear blue sky. The weather was amazing; I knew that without even being able to open my eyes. It’s always amazing here – that’s why I chose it.

With the very last of my strength, I reached for my watch and pressed two buttons simultaneously, permanently closing the sewer entrance to the time loop. Nothing and no one would get in that way again, including me.

I managed to open my eyes just enough to get a glimpse of the sky before I passed out completely.

I WOKE UP NAKED IN my own bed. I felt like shit, but I was alive, and that’s what mattered. The shakes had passed though, which made me wonder just how long I’d been out. The morning sun was streaming in my bedroom window through a crack in the drapes. So, I was out at least overnight, if not longer. I sat up and began inspecting myself. Four working limbs: check. All senses online: check. So far, so good. I examined my arms and face, which by rights should have been covered in hundreds of red scratches and bites from the rats. My wounds had been tended, and NuSkin placed over them, leaving me as blemish-free as I was to begin with. So, I concluded it was likely I’d live, unless some sewer rat disease made it past all the vaccines I’d taken over the years (in my line of work, you take all the vaccines).

Good, you’re awake. I was beginning to worry, Lucan said from the doorway.

Lucan is my house droid/companion/babysitter. As much as I hate to admit it, I needed all three, occasionally at the same time.

How long was I out this time? I asked groggily.

Two full days, such as they are. I’ve dressed your injuries and given you a general inoculation booster. Those looked like rat bites, and you’d apparently decided to bathe in sewage. I had to hose you down before I brought you inside, then bathed you in disinfectant and patched your wounds with NuSkin so you won’t have any scarring. Your clothes, I’m afraid, weren’t salvageable. I burned them.

Shit! You burned them? You burned my authentic CBGB shirt? I bought that at CBGB’s from Hilly Kristal himself. It was a pain in the ass to get, mostly because I first had to convince Hilly that bar T-shirts would be a good idea, I moaned.

Well, you can always go back and convince him again. I’m sure you’ll enjoy the challenge...again, Lucan replied crisply, as he pulled back the curtains to let more light into the room. Now, do you feel up to eating something? If so, I’ll make something for you.

Come to think of it, I’m famished. Where is everyone?

It’s lunchtime, Lucan said. That might not seem like much of an answer, but it let me know exactly what was going on at that moment.

At lunchtime, everyone was at the picnic. Exactly where I should be, but wasn’t. I knew this because that’s what happened every single day at lunchtime, because every day here was the same day, over and over. That’s the great thing about living in a time loop – consistency.

The downside, of course, was the complete lack of progress. Nothing changed, nothing grew, nothing advanced. Which, if I’m truly honest, was exactly what I wanted...no, that’s not quite right. It wasn’t what I wanted - it was what I needed.

No one grows up or does new things in a time loop. They also don’t grow old or die, if you pick the day correctly. And I’d put a lot of effort into picking this exact day.

I suppose introductions are in order at this point. My name is Maks Sweeney. I’m a smuggler.

Specifically, I’m a time smuggler, which is exactly what it sounds like – I travel through time and retrieve items people want; things which are rare, extinct, or at least highly prized by a rich collector or two. The work is extremely dangerous, not just because it requires me to constantly jump around the timeline, but also because time travel is highly illegal. Highly. Like, instant death if found doing it, in case you didn’t pick all that up from the TEDs trying to blast me into oblivion.

It wasn’t always like that. Back in 2097, when a group of Chinese and Indian physicists discovered how to travel in time, it was considered humanity’s greatest accomplishment. Personally, I always thought the greater accomplishment was their decision not to keep it secret, even at the risk of their own lives. Those scientists knew this was a game changer on a massive scale, and that any government which got its claws on the technology would quickly decide to use it for political purposes. Is your enemy beating you in the trade and technology arenas? Just travel back in time and remove their progress. Got a beef with your neighbor over a genocide from a few centuries ago? Go back and stop it. Those scientists knew that time travel could be the ultimate weapon, which meant the only way to keep a level playing field was to share the technology, even at the risk of