Time and Again

the throttle and taking the aloneness to heart for as long as it suited him.
    Up here, at the edge of man's domain, with his own planet a bright ball shrinking in the distance, he had time. And time was the key.
    Resisting temptation, he logged his coordinates-speed, trajectory, distance-all meticulously calculated.
    His long, agile fingers moved over dials and switches. The control panel glowed green, casting a mystic aura over his sharp-featured face.
    It was concentration rather than fear that narrowed his eyes and firmed his lips as he hurtled toward the sun. He knew exactly what the results would be if his calculations were off by even the slightest margin.
    The bright star's gravity would suck him in. It would take only a heartbeat for his ship and its occupant to be vaporized.
    The ultimate failure, he thought as he stared at the luminous star that filled his viewing screen. Or the ultimate achievement. It was a gorgeous sight, this glowing, swirling light that filled the cabin and dazzled his eyes. Even at this distance, the sun held the power of life and death. Like a hot, hungry woman, it bewitched.
    Deliberately he lowered the shield on the viewing screen. He pushed for more speed, watching the dials as he neared the maximum the ship could handle. A check of gauges showed him that the outside temperature was rising dramatically. He waited, knowing that beyond the protective screen the intensity of light would have seared his corneas. A man shooting toward the sun risked blindness and destruction-risked never achieving his destiny.
    He waited while the first warning bell sounded, waited as the ship bucked and danced under the demands of velocity and gravity. The calm voice of the computer droned on, giving him speed, position and, most important, time.
    Though he could hear his own blood pounding in his ears, his hand was steady as it urged more speed from the laboring engines.
    He streaked toward the sun, faster than any man had ever been known to fly. Jaw clenched, he shoved a lever home. His ship shuddered, rocked, then tilted. End over end it tumbled-once, twice, a third time-before he could right it. His fingers gripped the controls as the force slapped him back in the chair.
    The cabin exploded with sound and light as he fought to hold his course.
    For an instant his vision grayed and he thought fatalistically that instead of being burned up in the sun's heat he would simply be crushed by her gravity. Then his ship sprang free, like an arrow from a bow.
    Fighting for breath, he adjusted the controls and hurtled toward his fate.
    What impressed Jacob most about the Northwest was the space. As far as he could see in any direction, there was rock and wood and sky. It was quiet, not silent but quiet, with small animals rustling in the underbrush and birds calling as they wheeled overhead. Tracks dimpling the blanket of snow around his ship told him that larger animals roamed here. More importantly, the snow itself told him that his calculations were off by at least a matter of months.
    For the moment, he had to be satisfied with being approximately where he wanted to be. And with being alive.
    Always meticulous, he returned to his ship to record the facts and his impressions. He had seen pictures and videos of this place and time. For the past year he had studied every scrap of information he could find on the late twentieth century. Clothes, language, sociopolitical atmosphere. As a scientist he'd been fascinated. As a man he'd been appalled and amused by turns. And baffled when he'd remembered that his brother had chosen to live here, in this primitive time and place. Because of a woman.
    Jacob opened a compartment and took out a picture. An example of twentieth-century technology, he mused, as he turned the Polaroid snapshot over in his hand. He studied his brother first. Caleb's easy grin was in place. And he looked comfortable sitting on the steps of a small wooden structure, dressed in baggy jeans and a sweater. He had his arm around a woman. The woman called Libby, Jacob thought now. She was unquestionably attractive, as females went. Not as flashy as Cal's usual type, but certainly inoffensive.
    Just what was there about her that had made Cal give up his home, his family and his freedom?
    Because he was prepared to dislike her, Jacob tossed the picture back in its compartment. He would see this Libby for himself. Judge for himself. Then he would give Cal a swift kick and take him home.
    First