ADVENTURES THROUGH TIME (2025 Edition) by Michel Poulin - HTML preview

CHAPTER 3 – NEW MEMBERS

 

19:53 (North Atlantic Time)

Sunday, February 28, 2021 ‘A’

Nuclear aircraft carrier USS RONALD REAGAN (CVN 76) North Atlantic

Commander Bob Matheson, standing beside the electronic tactical plot display table in the Combat Information Center, or C.I.C. in short, knew what Captain Peter Fowler was going to ask him even before he came close to him. The CAG (Commander Air Group) would want to know about that

inbound F/A-18E SUPER HORNET that was now making him very worried.

Matheson saw that Lieutenant Commander Derek Hamilton, the commander of the squadron to which the

inbound aircraft belonged, was tagging along with Fowler. Both naval aviators examined the plot in silence for a moment before the CAG turned towards the operations officer.

“What’s Sanchez’s status?”

“Still on approach and maintaining a constant altitude of 5,000 feet. Her remaining engine is starting to overheat and she will be barely flying on fumes by the time she gets here, if she makes it.”

Hamilton shot a hard look at him.

“She’s my best pilot. She will make it.”

Matheson sighed quietly. His duty was to present facts, not hopes or assumptions.

“Will all due respect to your pilot’s abilities, mister, she will be about out of fuel and flying through this damn winter storm to try a carrier night landing on one overheating engine, while our deck is pitching wildly up and down. I advise that we get her close to one of our escort ships and have her bail out.”

“Do you know how long she will survive in this freezing water, with thirty-foot waves lashing at her?” replied Hamilton angrily. Fowler suddenly raised his hand, signaling Hamilton to calm down. The CAG then lowered his voice.

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“Is Sanchez wearing a survival suit, Commander?”

Matheson shook his head sadly. Between a near-suicidal attempt at landing and a jump into the frigid waters of the furious North Atlantic, Sanchez’s fate was nearly sealed in advance. He thought about the last time he had met the young Latino beauty at the officer’s club in Norfolk. She was a fantastic woman, apart from being a top-notch combat pilot. The CAG’s voice brought him back to reality.

“Commander, prepare for an emergency landing.”

20:08 (North Atlantic Time)

US Navy F/A-18E SUPER HORNET fighter-bomber North Atlantic

Carmen Sanchez nearly had to gulp down her stomach when a fierce downdraft made her lose over 300 meters in seconds, only to be shaken madly by turbulences. Fighting the controls of her F/A-18E, she could barely reestablish a roughly straight flight path. This was by far the meanest storm she had encountered in her career. A quick glance at her instruments panel did nothing to reassure her: she had only ten minutes of fuel remaining and her surviving engine was badly overheating and was in danger of catching fire. Looking through her aircraft’s canopy, she could see only a pitch-black night lit at intervals by blinding lightning bolts. Only her heads-up display made it possible for her to avoid total spatial disorientation. She was by now drenched in sweat and more than a little apprehensive. Carmen inhaled deeply, trying to relax a bit, then activated her radio.

“Hen House, this is Blue Fox Five. I have ten minutes of fuel remaining and am at 4,000 feet. My last engine is iffy. I request instructions, over.” The reception was barely comprehensible, being badly affected by the electrical storm she was flying through.

“…se, we have… on rad… cleared for land…”

“Blue Fox Five to Hen House, I acknowledge that I am cleared for landing.” A loud horn suddenly erupted in the cockpit, accompanied by an insistent voice from the aircraft audio warning system.

“Warning, fire! Warning, fire! Warning…”

Carmen felt her hair rise on her head. Looking sharply to her left and rear, she saw flames shooting out of her remaining engine.

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“HEN HOUSE, HEN HOUSE, THIS IS BLUE FOX FIVE. I’M ON FIRE! I SAY AGAIN, I’M ON FIRE! EJECTING NOW!”

Pulling back her legs close to her seat; she pushed her head against the headrest before grabbing the ejection handle between her legs with both hands and pulling it with desperate strength. Her ejection seat’s rocket motor blasted her through the Plexiglas canopy and into the 400 knots relative speed air stream. That felt to her like being kicked hard in the bum before hitting a brick wall. Lashed both by cutting winds and hail, she felt rather than saw her seat separate from her and her parachute deploy. Only a few seconds later she hit the icy cold water, diving deeply feet first before she could unclip frantically her parachute harness and swim towards the surface. Breaking the surface, Carmen barely had time to gulp quickly two breaths before a huge wave came crashing on top of her.

20:14 (North Atlantic Time)

USS RONALD REAGAN

“Say again, Blue Fox Five. Blue Fox Five, this is Hen House, say again your last transmission.”

The shouts of the air operations chief in his radio microphone were suddenly covered by an alarmed report from the nearby air traffic controller to Commander Matheson.

“Sir, Blue Fox Five just disappeared from my radar screen.”

“Keep looking for it.”

Matheson then turned towards the duty officer of the watch.

“Alert the PORT ROYAL! Have it break formation and dash towards Blue Fox Five’s last known location. Air Ops Chief, scramble the plane guard OSPREY.”

“Aye aye, sir!”

The chief picked up a telephone which connected him directly to the HV-122A OSPREY aircraft on plane guard alert on the deck. A short set of orders quickly had the big vertical take-off search and rescue aircraft lift off and head towards Sanchez’s suspected crash spot.

20:15 (North Atlantic Time)

North Atlantic

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Carmen reemerged again, her energy nearly spent and starting to suffer already from the onset of hypothermia. She realized that she was not going to live for very long. Tears of frustration and despair came to her eyes: she wanted so much to live. Another huge wave was gathering above her, ready to send her down to the abyss.

“NOOO!”

Right then, she forgot that she was an elite pilot with a distinguished service and combat record. She was now simply a young woman about to die. Something suddenly grabbed her left leg and pulled her down under the surface. A terrorized Carmen barely had time to think about sharks before something was placed over her mouth. Recognizing the shape of a scuba air regulator, she avidly sucked in air, nearly suffocating by forgetting not to breathe through the nose at the same time. She was soon pulled inside an airlock of some sort, with its hatch sliding in place immediately afterwards. As pressurized air chased out the seawater, Carmen, shaking like a leaf and very close to passing out, looked at the one who had saved her. Her blurred vision could only make out a tall silhouette in some kind of diving suit. Two more people entered the airlock as soon as the water was evacuated, grabbing gently Carmen and carrying her in some kind of locker room before putting her down on the floor. A third person, a woman, then spoke to the two bearers in English.

“Mike, Sean, could you leave for a while? We will have to strip her of those wet clothes.”

The two big men quickly left, leaving Carmen alone with the woman and her rescuer. The Puerto-Rican pilot was quickly stripped of her soggy flight suit and underwear before she was dried with towels and wrapped into an electric blanket. The person in the diving suit then presented a small glass full of an amber liquid to Carmen.

“Drink this: it’s a shot of cognac.”

The voice was clearly that of a woman. Carmen thankfully downed the alcohol, the explosion of warmth in her stomach feeling to her like a revival. A steaming cup of coffee was put next in her hands. By now, Carmen’s vision had returned to normal and she could finally look in detail at the two women providing her comfort. The one in the diving suit, her mask now removed, was a tall woman apparently in her early thirties, with medium-length black hair, green eyes and soft Caucasian features. The other woman, dressed in a dark gray uniform covered with large pockets, was a teenager of great beauty with reddish-brown hair and big blue eyes. Carmen felt better just by

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looking at her: she looked like the type of person you could get to like instantly. The taller woman grabbed Carmen under one arm.

“Let’s move you to a seat. Ingrid, please help me.”

The tall one had a very slight accent which Carmen could not trace. Once she was installed on a padded bench, Carmen looked up and smiled at the two women, her cup of hot coffee still in her hands.

“Thank you very much for saving me. I was damn close to sinking for good.” The tall stranger nodded, smiling back at her.

“It was a close call alright, Lieutenant Sanchez.”

Carmen then looked around her with curiosity.

“Which submarine is this? I didn’t know that there were women submariners in the Navy.”

The tall one laughed with good humor.

“Submarines! The last bastion of male chauvinism. Actually, Lieutenant, you are not aboard a submarine. This is the Time Patrol scout ship WALKUREN. My name is Nancy Laplante, Chief of Operations of the Time Patrol, and my friend here is my adopted daughter, Ingrid Weiss.”

A rush of blood to her brain nearly made Carmen pass out.

“The…the Time Patrol?”

“Correct, Lieutenant. You were predestined to disappear at sea today. Learning of your fate from future hindsight, I planned this rescue and jumped to this time. I am afraid that, from now on, you will be reported officially as missing and presumed dead at sea. I can however offer you an exciting second life in the future, as an agent of my organization. I already saved many others who were destined to officially die. In fact, one of those people directly requested that you be saved today, along with another aircraft crew now searching for you.”

“Who are you talking about?”

Instead of answering, Laplante looked towards a nearby steel door and shouted.

“Commander Hamilton, you may come in now.”

“Commander Hamilton?” said Carmen, stunned, while the door slid open and her squadron leader walked in, wearing the same kind of gray uniform as Ingrid Weiss. Hamilton, walking slowly and laboriously, went to her and kissed her on the forehead. Carmen then noticed that his hair had some gray strands.

“Carmen, you can’t know how happy I am to see you safe and sound.”

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“But you are supposed to be on the RONALD REAGAN. What are you doing here? And you look much older than just yesterday.”

“Another me is presently on our carrier, Carmen. I was saved by Nancy Laplante in the year 2053, while I and eight other astronauts were stranded on the Moon. I then told her about you and she agreed to save you, on the condition that you disappeared from this time period.”

Carmen looked suspiciously at him.

“This is somewhat hard to believe, sir. What happened to you anyway? You look very weak, apart from being older.”

Hamilton smiled down to her.

“A normal consequence of spending over a year in low gravity on the Moon. I and the others have had only two weeks since our rescue to recuperate. In fact, the others are still back in the future, under medical care. I came so that you and the others would know that you are not being captured by hostile persons.”

“Others? What others?”

“The crew of the search and rescue OSPREY that is now searching for you. They crashed and disappeared tonight, like you.”

20:34 (North Atlantic Time)

HV-122A OSPREY search and rescue VTOL aircraft North Atlantic

The OSPREY combat search and rescue aircraft slowed down while its two wingtip engines pivoted to near vertical, letting it fly low and slow over the furious sea, its crew frantically searching in the dark for any trace of Sanchez or of her aircraft. The copilot, Sub-Lieutenant Angie Wells, suddenly yelled over the din of the two giant propellers.

“I have something on the FLIR2! Looks like fuel and debris on the water at two O’clock, distance 600 yards.”

“Good work, Angie!” replied the pilot, Lieutenant Richard Berkowitz. The OSPREY II was soon over the spot designated by Wells, all its lights on and with four pairs of eyes scanning the surface of the water. Berkowitz sent a short message to the

2 FLIR: Forward Looking Infra-Red

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RONALD REAGAN to announce their find, then started an area search pattern. After five tense minutes, a scream from the loadmaster, Warrant Mack Turner, made their hearts accelerate.

“Parachute on the surface at nine O’clock!”

“I see it!” replied the pilot on the intercom. “We may yet get Lieutenant Sanchez out of this cold soup. Petty Officer Crawford, be ready to jump in.”

“Aye, sir!” replied the S.E.A.L. combat diver, who then quickly put on his scuba gear as Berkowitz maneuvered his aircraft over the white parachute floating on the surface of the stormy sea. Mack Turner looked down at the giant waves and shook his head at Jack Crawford.

“The sea is too strong. Jumping in would be nearly suicidal.”

“So? You want us to turn tail and let Sanchez in there? If I have to jump, I’ll go.” Berkowitz’s voice cut short the argument.

“There is no sign of Sanchez around. She may be trapped under the parachute. Petty Officer Crawford, I’ll have to ask you to go and check it out.”

“I’m ready, sir. Just get a bit lower, so that I can jump.”

“Alright! By the way, we will soon get some help: the cruiser PORT ROYAL will be here in ten minutes.”

“Super! We certainly can use some backup.”

Crawford, after another look down at the sea, yelled again in his intercom.

“Hold it right there, sir. Warrant, be ready with that hoist. I…” Concentrating their attention on the parachute in the water, the crew of the OSPREY did not see a monstrous wave rise nearby. It crashed down over the right wing and engine nacelle, pulling down the aircraft and shearing away the propeller blades off the left engine. The blades then became deadly missiles, with one cutting through the fuselage and cockpit. Jack Crawford, holding on desperately to a structural frame, saw with horror the blade cut Warrant Turner in half before beheading Lieutenant Berkowitz. The OSPREY then hit the water hard and started sinking nearly immediately. Jack, half stunned by the crash, rushed towards the cockpit as water started filling the cabin. He found Angie Wells unconscious, collapsed over her controls and with blood coming from a head wound. Pushing the quick release knob of her seat harness, he dragged her out of the cockpit as quickly as he could. He barely had time to exit the fuselage, still pulling her limp body, before the aircraft sank out of sight. His next move was to inflate her flotation vest, his hands already starting to feel cold despite of his neoprene gloves:

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Angie was not going to survive more than ten minutes maximum in this icy water. To make matters worse, a wave came crashing on top of them, separating Jack from Angie. Resurfacing quickly, a desperate Jack searched around for the copilot, without success. Another wave sent him down again. Only the combined buoyancy of his diving suit and of his flotation vest made him resurface again. The furious sea was sapping his energy quickly.

“ANGIE!”

The anguished S.E.A.L. then realized that a large, dark shape now floated overhead in the sky, hiding the stars.

20:55 (North Atlantic Time)

TICONDEROGA Class cruiser USS PORT ROYAL

Captain Purnell had to hold tight to the tactical plot table in order not to be thrown on the deck of his bridge. The ride in this stormy sea was bone-jarring, with the whole of the 9,466 tons cruiser shaking as it pounded its way through the waves at the maximum speed possible. He could not see how anybody could survive more than a few minutes in this sea. He however had been ordered to the crash site and would do his best to find the lost pilot. Purnell’s executive officer, in constant intercom contact with the ship’s C.I.C., suddenly raised his head from the radar scope he was watching.

“We just lost contact with the OSPREY, sir. It is no longer on the radar screen.” Before Purnell could get to the radar scope, the operator manning the forward FLIR sensor yelled in alarm.

“Contact dead ahead! I have a large flying object 4,500 yards away. It is hovering just above the waves, sir.”

“How large is it?” asked Purnell. The operator hesitated slightly before

answering.

“Much larger than our OSPREY, sir. It also has a weird shape to it.” Running to the FLIR station, Purnell looked at the video screen for a moment, then contacted the C.I.C. via the intercom.

“Ops, this is the captain! We have a large, unidentified aircraft hovering over the crash site. Transmit the picture from our forward FLIR to the RONALD REAGAN via data link and record everything from now on.”

Purnell then turned towards his executive officer.

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“Commander Mitchell, sound battle stations. We have lost two aircraft already over that spot. Also, challenge that contact by radio and order him to identify himself.” After two nerve-wracking minutes, the signals officer reported via the intercom.

“Nothing, Captain! They either are not listening, which would be very surprising, or they are clamming up.”

“Very well! Advise the RONALD REAGAN that the unknown contact is refusing to identify itself. Radar, how come we don’t see that thing on our radar screens?”

“I don’t know, sir! It must be using some kind of highly effective stealth technology, sir.”

Mitchell, having looked at the FLIR screen, approached Purnell.

“I’ve never seen anything like this, Captain. I advise extreme caution.”

“I agree! This customer has no obvious business here and is sitting over the grave of two of our aircraft. Lock all weapons on this contact, but wait for my command to fire.”

The signals officer then reported again.

“Captain, Admiral Curtiss is ordering the task force to go to ‘Weapons Free’ status. We are to fire warning shots to force the contact to identify itself, then shoot it down if we don’t get an answer.”

Purnell jumped on the intercom right away.

“Ops, fire a warning shot on the unknown contact with the forward five-inch gun.” Seconds later, a bright flash and a loud detonation announced the first shot of the encounter. The reaction of the unknown contact was swift.

“Sir, we are being jammed on all radar and radio frequencies. We can’t get through it but it is coming from the contact.”

Purnell digested that report for a few seconds, then nodded his head.

“Alright, they leave us no choice. Link the forward five-inch gun to the FLIR director and fire at will. Fire two SM-3 missiles from the aft magazine on home-on-jam mode.”

21:06 (North Atlantic Time)

Crash site, North Atlantic

Jack Crawford, his hands and face now numb, was still being trashed around on the surface of the sea when a flash and a loud explosion nearby caught him by surprise.

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Similar explosions soon followed every three seconds, telling him that the unknown craft above him was being shot at by a five-inch gun. However, the shells were detonating just short of the craft, as if stopped by an invisible wall. A blinding blue-green beam of light suddenly sizzled from the craft, followed closely by a second beam. Two distant explosions were then heard. Jack gulped down hard as he stared at the massive craft above him.

“Damn, these buggers have high power lasers.”

His attention was suddenly attracted to a light approaching from above. Somebody was coming for him.

“HERE! I’M HERE!”

Someone splashed in the water besides him, then started fitting some kind of harness on him. A female voice came from the now visible shape in a diving suit glued to him.

“Just let yourself go, sailor. I will drag you up to safety as soon as this harness is in place.”

“Who are you? What is that craft above?”

“I’ll explain later. Your female shipmate is already on board of my ship and is being treated. She will make it. We also saved Lieutenant Sanchez.” Jack felt immense relief at those words.

“Thank you, whoever you are.”

“Don’t thank me yet, sailor.” was the woman’s curt reply. Jack suddenly felt himself lifting out of the water, his rescuer still glued to his back.

21:08 (North Atlantic Time)

USS PORT ROYAL

“These bastards have high-power lasers!” exclaimed Commander Mitchell. “They were able to shoot down our missiles.”

Purnell, now very uneasy, turned towards the FLIR operator.

“Is our gunfire having any effect?”

“No, sir! Our shells are exploding short of the target, as if they are hitting an invisible wall.”

“Damn! Are we fighting off the fucking Starship ENTERPRISE or what? Is all of this being recorded?”

“Yes sir!”

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“Keep it on! Commander Mitchell, I want saturation missile fire on that thing.”

“Aye, sir!”

More missiles soon erupted from the aft magazine, but at a rate of one missile every three seconds this time. Purnell and the rest of the bridge crew clearly saw straight rods of blue-green light stab repeatedly the night sky, intercepting and detonating the STANDARD SM-3 surface-to-air missiles of the PORT ROYAL. Fired at a dizzying cadence, the laser beams got closer and closer to the cruiser, with the exploding missiles soon rocking the ship. One exploding missile blew up close enough to send fragments which shattered a few bridge viewing ports.

“CEASE FIRE! CEASE FIRE! We are going to blow ourselves up at this rate.” Before Purnell could give another order, a blinding beam struck the ship directly above the bridge. The forward FLIR operator jumped out of his seat.

“SIR, THEY JUST SHOT OUT OUR FORWARD FLIR DIRECTOR!”

21:10 (North Atlantic Time)

Time Patrol scoutship WALKUREN

North Atlantic

Jack Crawford and his rescuer finally flew in the craft through a wide rear cargo ramp, ending inside a fairly large cargo bay lit by combat red lights. Jack could see three women busy stripping an inert Angie Wells of her wet clothes, while a fourth one was applying a bandage to her bleeding head. He also saw with a jump of his heart Lieutenant Sanchez, wrapped in a blanket and sitting on one of the jump seats lining the sides of the cargo bay, a man by her side. All the strangers wore dark gray uniforms unfamiliar to Jack. He and his rescuer touched down near the group taking care of Angie Wells. Forgetting about his frozen hands, Jack went to the OSPREY copilot, eyeing her anxiously. One of the women attending her, a young woman with blond hair, looked up at him and smiled reassuringly.

“Don’t worry about your shipmate: she is unconscious but breathing regularly and her head wound is not actually serious. She will be better once warmed up.”

“Thank you, miss.”

Jack couldn’t help stare as Angie was stripped of all her clothes before being dried and wrapped in a blanket: the male pilots on the RONALD REAGAN were tripping over themselves to date the tall, beautiful California blonde. Jack, now reassured about

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Angie, went to Carmen Sanchez, who got up from her seat. Someone had given her a gray uniform similar to that worn by the man standing beside her. That man immediately caught Jack’s undivided attention: he had a strong family resemblance to him and was also staring back, surprise and wonderment on his face.

“Do I know you, sir?” asked Jack hesitantly.

“I doubt so. My name is Mike Crawford. And you are?”

“Petty Officer Second Class Jack Crawford, U.S. Navy S.E.A.L.s.” The big stranger, standing even taller than Jack’s 188 centimeters frame, swallowed hard while still staring at him.

“Who…who was your paternal grandfather?”

“Er, Patrick. Why?”

“And what was the first name of your paternal great grandfather?” Totally confused by now, Jack answered without thinking.

“John, I believe. Yeah, his name was John. He died on our family ranch in Havre, Montana, when I was still young.”

To Jack’s and Sanchez’s utter surprise, the stranger in front of them broke down in tears and hugged jack.

“Jack, your great grandfather John was my brother. You are my great grand-nephew.”

Jack’s rescuer, a tall woman with black hair and green eyes, stared at him with her mouth wide open, then smiled at Mike Crawford.

“Well, I’ll be damned! This mission is an even bigger success than I hoped for.”

“What mission?” exploded Jack. “Who are you anyway?” Mike Crawford patted his shoulder, grinning from ear to ear.

“It’s a long story, Jack. Once you take off this diving suit, we will have a long talk together.”

07:11 (Eastern Standard Time)

Friday, March 5, 2021 ‘A’

Married Quarters, U.S. Navy base

Norfolk, Virginia

United States

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Lynda Crawford picked up the local base newspaper from the mailbox of her small, modest military house and went back inside, the cold March wind making her shiver in her bathrobe. She went back to the kitchen, where three-year-old Steve was eating his porridge in his high chair. Her son glanced at her as she sat down in her rocking chair, then went back at playing with his breakfast. Lynda was too depressed to call him to order. Unfolding the newspaper, she scanned quickly the titles. One article was briefly recapitulating what was called officially a tragic accident which had claimed five Navy lives. From the embarrassed looks and evasive explanations from Jack’s comrades, whose carrier had returned early to port two days ago, Lynda had guessed that there was a lot more to it than the official story said. For one thing, she had heard a number of gossips at the base hairstyling salon, where she was working, about Navy yard workers having to repair some kind of battle damage to the cruiser PORT ROYAL. Even more troubling was the rumor that over twenty of its anti-aircraft missiles had been fired in anger. Turning the pages of the newspaper, Lynda found the obituary section, where five small pictures were accompanied by brief texts. She couldn’t restraint her tears as she looked at the picture of Jack, taken years ago in his dress uniform, an impressive row of medals on his chest. Putting down the paper, she thought gloomily about what she would do with her life now. The most important thing was to provide as normal a life as possible to little Steve, who was still too young to realize the extent of his loss. One thing was clear to Lynda: she was not going to stay on this base. It would only remind her of Jack’s loss. Besides, while polite and supportive for the moment, Lynda knew that it would take only weeks before the base administration started treating her like a burden and forced her out of her military housing, in order to make place for another Navy family. Her father-in-law, Daniel Crawford, had already called to offer her to move to the Crawford’s family farm near Havre, Montana. The more she thought about it, the more she was tempted to accept that offer.

09:11 (Eastern Standard Time)

Monday, March 8, 2021 ‘A’

Married Quarters, U.S. Navy base

Norfolk, Virginia

“Where are we going, Mommy?” asked for the tenth time little Steve as Lynda strapped him to his car safety seat.

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“We are going to visit grandpa’s farm, dear. There are a lot of horses there, along with cows and chickens.”

“Will I be able to play with them, Mommy?”

“Of course you will. Now, be patient while I talk to our visitor.” Closing the front right door of her old Pontiac Sunfire, she turned to face the Navy petty officer sent by the base to collect the keys to her house. The man saluted her after accepting the keys.

“Have a good trip, ma’am. If you have any problems with the moving truck, don’t hesitate to call us. Again, I’m truly sorry for your loss, ma’am.”

“Thank you! Have a good day.”

Lynda then got in her car and drove off, not bothering to look back at what had been their house for three years.

19:28 (Eastern Standard Time)

Thirty kilometers West of Huntington

West Virginia

Lynda promised herself to find a motel once in Huntington, on the state border with Kentucky: she was dead tired from the long day of driving, it was pitch dark and a cold rain made the driving even more difficult and treacherous. Thankfully, little Steve was asleep in his safety seat, sparing her more stress. She was approaching a bridge spanning a small river when the headlights illuminated someone standing on the side of the road. Lynda quickly rejected the idea of picking up the hitchhiker: she was alone with an infant at night in a place she didn’t know. Her car was about to pass by the hitchhiker when she applied brutally the brakes, her heart jumping in her chest: the hitchhiker was her husband, Jack! The braking woke up Steve, who started whining as the car stopped.

“Mommy, I want to get out.”

Lynda did not answer, looking aft instead. Jack was running towards them and was nearly to the car. She could see that she had not been mistaken. As impossible as it seemed, it was really Jack out there. Opening her door and stepping out, Lynda ran to meet him, throwing herself in his arms and covering him with kisses. He kissed her back while hugging her.

“Jack, how could you be alive? I was told that you went missing at sea.”

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“It’s a long story, Lynda. I will tell you everything soon. First, let me see Steve.” Jack, Lynda behind him, went to their Pontiac Sunfire and opened the front passenger door.

“DADDY!”

Taking his little son out of his seat, Jack hugged him for long seconds, both ignoring the rain which was still falling. A tall woman wearing a gray uniform and a black helmet then walked out of the woods bordering the road and joined the small family by the side of the car. Lynda tensed up at her sight.

“Jack, who is that woman?”

Her husband smiled reassuringly as he pointed the stranger.

“Lynda, this is Nancy Laplante, the one who saved my life at sea. She also saved two of the four others who officially died with me.”

“Jack, you don’t make much sense. Why didn’t you simply return to the base in Norfolk?”

“Because your husband is officially dead according to history, Misses Crawford.” answered the woman. “He would actually be really dead if I had not traveled through time to save him and the others. I offered him a brand-new life for your family in the future and Jack accepted. I know that this is the kind of decision best taken as a couple, but dead men normally have little choice in their destiny. It was that or a life of sad solitude for you. Before you ask, the Navy has nothing to do with this.”

“Then, who do you work for?” asked an overwhelmed Lynda.

“I am Chief of Operations of the Time Patrol, which operates from the year 3384. I also happen to be married to Mike Crawford, Jack’s great grand-uncle. He also works for me. Now, we have to complete the disappearing act of your family. Jack, please take out your wife’s luggage from the car.”

Watched by a confused Lynda, to whom Jack had given back little Steve, her husband quickly took out the four suitcases and three boxes filling the trunk and the backseat of the car. A sort of metallic crate then appeared out of nowhere near the car, making Lynda gasp in shock. Nancy Laplante opened it and took out of it a collection of used suitcases, which Jack then put in the trunk. Laplante then put Lynda’s luggage inside the crate and closed it. The crate vanished in a flash of white light a few seconds later. With the trunk left open, Laplante took place behind the steering wheel of the car and drove off before Lynda could protest. To Lynda’s horror, the car sped towards the bridge but veered off the road just before getting on it and fell down the steep slope of the

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riverbank, splashing in the river. It then sank in seconds. Lynda didn’t see Laplante come out of it.

“My god! Was she mad? Why did she kill herself?”

“Don’t worry about me, Misses Crawford. I am fine.”

Laplante’s voice in her back made Lynda turn around abruptly to look with incomprehension at her.

“How…”

“I will explain later, once we are out of this cold rain. Follow me, please.” Just as Laplante said that, a big craft appeared out of nowhere, twenty meters away on the road. Lynda couldn’t help stop, stunned by this. Jack patted gently her shoulder.

“Don’t be afraid, Lynda. You will love this new life of ours.”

20:36 (Berlin Time)

Monday, June 30, 1941 ‘B’

Room 217, senior prisoners’ quarters

Colditz Castle, Germany

William Anderson was writing a letter to his wife Kathleen, sitting at the old table of his room with Mark Lindsay, who was reading a book, when someone behind him put a hand on his left shoulder. Taken by surprise, like Lindsay, Anderson nearly jumped out of his chair and looked behind. His eyes popped wide open at the sight of Nancy Laplante, dressed in a sort of gray uniform and wearing a complicated-looking black helmet.

“Hello, Major. I need to speak to you and Squadron Leader Lindsay, if you don’t mind.”

“What are you doing here, Brigadier? You are supposed to be in Berlin.”

“I was…for a few hours. I will explain later. Now, we have an emergency at hand and we must move fast. Colditz is about to be bombed to rubble, with both the prisoners and all the Germans around due to be killed in the incoming raid. I traveled through time to save as many people as possible in the little time we have left.” Anderson glanced at the shoulder patch on Nancy’s uniform, reading the words ‘Time Patrol’ on it before looking back at her and swallowing hard.

“You are serious, are you?”

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“Deadly serious. I must start evacuating everybody discreetly and without delay. Hold on to this firmly.”

She gave him a cylindrical object the size of a small grenade, then passed another one to Lindsay.

“I will see you in a short while, both of you.”

Before either man could speak, they disappeared from where they sat. Nancy started heading for the door of the room, but nearly bumped into Lieutenant Colonel Robertson as he entered the room. Anger and hatred flashed in the eyes of the British on seeing her.

“YOU, HERE? WHAT THE DEVIL…”

He couldn’t finish his sentence, as Nancy grabbed him by the collar and, lifting him clear off the floor, slammed him hard against the wall, holding him up there.

“Listen, you moron! I am here to save lives, not to waste time listening to your stupid accusations. I should leave you here to die for all the wrongs you did to me, but I will save you anyway.”

She then touched his forehead with two fingers of her left hand. Robertson jerked once, then became limp. Putting him down on the floor, Nancy then laid a transit probe on his belly and activated it. The man disappeared after a few seconds. Nancy’s next step was to go to Jim Milner’s room, ignoring the incredulous looks of the three prisoners she passed by in the hallway. She found Milner absorbed in a poker game with Samuel Goldman, Sven Larsen, Fernand Brunet and Jan Nierman. All five men looked up at her as if she was a witch. She held up an authoritative hand before they could say anything.

“Hold on to your questions, guys. We have an emergency and I must evacuate you as quickly as possible before this place is bombed to rubble in less than half an hour by the RAF.”

Nancy then took five transit probes from the carrying pouch slung across one shoulder and distributed them, activating them as each man got one of the probes.

“Hold on to these: they will transport you to safety.”

“But I want to go with you.” said Milner sheepishly, making Nancy smile.

“You will, Jim.” she said just before the American disappeared, followed shortly by the others. Next, Nancy went up to the top floor, where Jean Bigras and the other junior rank prisoners were accommodated. She found the Frenchman besides his bunk bed, shining his boots. Silence fell in the room as she approached the young man, who looked at her as if she was an angel.

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“You are here to take me with you, Madame?”

“I am, Jean. You are coming with me to the future. Take this.” A concert of exclamations from the two dozen other prisoners greeted the disappearance of Bigras. Nancy went to a nearby table and signaled the prisoners to gather around her, then spoke in her helmet microphone.

“Send a box of transit probes to my location. Set them for London.” Her next words were for the prisoners around her.

“Listen up carefully and please keep quiet. Your lives may depend on it. Colditz is about to be flattened by a fleet of British bombers and I am here to evacuate you to safety. I will soon distribute to each of you a small object that you will have to hang on to until it has transported you out of here, the same way you saw Corporal Bigras go. You will find yourselves in London, England, but two days in the future.”

“Why two days, ma’am?” Asked a British RAF flight sergeant, as exclamations ran around the large room.

“So as to avoid a time paradox with other events about to unfold. Once you find yourselves in London, step away from your emergence point and let go the probe I will give you, unless you want to experience an electric shock. You will then be free to report back to your respective commands…and to your families.” Big grins and cheers greeted those last words. She repeated her instructions in Dutch, French and Polish for good measure. By the time she was finished, a metallic container had appeared in midair, floating down silently to land on top of the table. Opening the container, Nancy made the prisoners line up in order to distribute the transit probes, making sure that each prisoner stepped away from the others before activating his probe and disappearing. In mere minutes, all the prisoners were gone, leaving Nancy alone with the container and seven leftover probes. Those were quickly distributed to other prisoners on the next floor down. Sending the container back repeatedly to have it refilled with probes, Nancy methodically emptied the building of its occupants in less than fifteen minutes. Her next stop was the castle’s infirmary, where she appeared in front of a few sick prisoners and of one German medic. The German immediately fell on his knees before her, awe on his face.

“You are back, Brigadier! We were hoping that you would.”

“Thank you, Obergefreiter Hirsh. Your faith is touching. I will actually need your help in order to save the lives of your comrades.”

“Ask anything of me, Brigadier”

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Smiling down gently to the man, Nancy spent a minute giving him instructions, then handed him a probe.

“Remember: you must advise and orient the people as they will appear in the open field. They will be disoriented and confused and will need reassurance, especially the old ones and the children.”

“I will do my best, Brigadier.” said the German softly, getting a nod from Nancy, who spoke this time in her helmet microphone.

“Probe 49 to coordinates Delta. Activate now!”

Once the German medic was gone, Nancy took care of the sick prisoners, sending them on their way to London. The last patient had just disappeared when she received a radio message.

“HERMES to Nancy: the British bombers are approaching. We may have about six more minutes before they are on top of Colditz.”

“Damn! I am far from finished here. How are you doing with the citizens of the town?”

“We have safely transferred over 1,359 persons up to now. Our probe controllers are working as fast as they possibly can, but we would need more time to get everyone out.”

“Keep at it as long as possible. I will take care of the castle’s garrison. Send me a full container of probes.”

“On its way.”

As promised, a container materialized besides her less than a minute later. Grabbing the container’s carrying handle, Nancy lifted it and walked out in the inner courtyard. Luck was with her, as she saw Colonel Schmidt crossing the lit courtyard, doing his usual pre-curfew inspection with two soldiers. Deciding that she had to take some risk at this point if she wanted to accomplish at least part of her goals, Nancy walked resolutely towards Schmidt, crossing the open space of the courtyard in full view of the roof sentries manning machineguns.

“COLONEL SCHMIDT, I NEED TO SPEAK TO YOU URGENTLY!” The commandant turned around and stared in utter surprise at Nancy.

“Brigadier Laplante? But you are supposed to be in Berlin. What…” Schmidt then noticed the pistols on her belt and the weird shape of her helmet. His hand went for his own pistol, while the two soldiers escorting him started pointing their rifles. Nancy held one hand up while still walking towards them.

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“I am here to save your men’s lives, Colonel. Hear me out, please! We have very little time before a fleet of British bombers arrives to flatten Colditz.” Hesitating for a moment, Schmidt then ordered his soldiers to lower their rifles.

“Bombers? What are you talking about?”

“I am talking about the bombers the British sent here with the mission to kill me, so that I couldn’t give away their precious secrets. I traveled through time to come here and to save as many lives as I can tonight. I can help save your men, but you will have to show blind confidence in me.”

“What tells me that this is not a trick to help break the prisoners out?”

“I could have sent them away without needing to expose myself like this, Colonel. In fact, the prisoners have already been evacuated by some friends of mine, along with close to 1,400 of the town’s inhabitants. The evacuation of civilians is continuing as we speak, using remotely-controlled time machines.”

Schmidt’s face hardened when she said that the prisoners were gone.

“And how am I supposed to explain to Berlin that I let all my prisoners escape just on the strength of your story, Brigadier? They will want to know why I didn’t even try to arrest you.”

“You can tell them that any attempt to take me or to kill me would have resulted in your precious Führer finding himself transported instantly to London.” Nancy then disappeared from where she stood, reappearing a few meters behind Schmidt and the soldiers.

“Just like this, Colonel.”

The three Germans jumped and turned around, staring at her with disbelief.

“How did you do that?” exclaimed Schmidt.

“The same way I intend to transport your men to safety. Can’t you hear the British bombers now? I assure you that they will leave nothing standing in Colditz by the time they are finished, Colonel.”

Schmidt listened for a moment and effectively heard the faint buzz of hundreds of aircraft piston engines approaching. Looking back at Nancy, he nodded his head once.

“Alright, I believe you. How do you want to proceed?”

“Have one man gather as quickly as possible your garrison in the outer courtyard, from where they will be transported to safety via time transfer probes. They must get out at once, even if they are in the showers, naked: their lives will depend on that.” Schmidt immediately looked at one of the soldiers standing beside him.

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“Gefreiter Wankel, do as Brigadier Laplante said! I want everybody out in the outer courtyard without delay.”

“Yawol, Herr Colonel!” replied the soldier, saluting before leaving at a dead run. Nancy then handed a probe to the remaining soldier.

“Press the red button on top of this object, soldier.”

The German did so and disappeared from where he stood two seconds later. Schmidt, fighting off his bewilderment, called to him the two sentries present in the inner courtyard, so that Nancy could give them transit probes. Once those two men were gone, Nancy and Schmidt ran to the main gate of the courtyard, where the German officer shouted urgently at the outside sentry to open the door. That sentry and another German standing along the parapet were next to disappear. Standing next to the door of the guardhouse flanking the main gate, Nancy handed out transit probes as the German soldiers inside ran out, urged on by Schmidt. Nine more Germans were sent to safety before Nancy, followed by Schmidt, ran towards the gate giving access to the outer courtyard. By that time, the noise of dozens of heavy bombers approaching fast now filled the evening sky. Handing a probe to the sentry standing at the outer gate, Nancy ran inside the outer courtyard, to find about twenty German soldiers milling around in utter confusion, with more soldiers rushing out every second. She saw old Feldwebel Buhlingen, who was trying to put some order in the growing group of soldiers, and ran to him. German anti-aircraft batteries around the castle were now firing away for all their worth. Looking at her first with surprise, then with happiness, Buhlingen saluted Nancy crisply as she braked to a halt in front of him.

“Brigadier, it is nice to see you here again…”

“Thanks, Feldwebel, but we have only seconds left before the British start bombing this place to rubble. Take this and hold on to it until you are transported to safety.”

Nancy pressed herself the activation button of a probe before handing it to Buhlingen. She was already handing another probe to a young soldier as the feldwebel disappeared. Handing out probes at a feverish pace, she emptied her container in less than half a minute. That left however two soldiers and Colonel Schmidt still standing beside her. Swearing to herself, she called the HERMES via radio.

“HERMES, I am out of probes, with three men still to transport. Send me more probes right away!”

The voice of Mona Zirel, sounding urgent, answered her.

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“We are out of time, Nancy. The first bombs are on their way. Get out, now!”

“I’m not leaving anyone behind.” replied Nancy before looking at Schmidt and the two soldiers. “Hug me, quickly!”

“What?” said Schmidt, astonished.

“Hug me, now, all of you!”

The three Germans did so, too surprised to argue further. Not even knowing if her implanted time distorter had the power to transport such a mass, Nancy concentrated while pressing the three men against her. She managed to levitate slowly off the ground before giving the mental order to her implanted computer to jump to coordinates Delta. The four of them disappeared barely a half second before the first bomb detonated inside the castle’s walls.

03:31 (Berlin Time)

Wednesday, July 2, 1941 ‘B’

Open field, six kilometers South of Colditz

Germany

They reappeared in the middle of an open field, still in the dark of the night. Floating down to the ground, Nancy then released her grip on the three Germans. Schmidt sucked air in while holding his ribs.

“Himmel! You are incredibly strong, Brigadier.”

He then looked around and saw hundreds of other people, mostly civilians, milling around in the dark and talking in German to each other in the middle of what looked like a farmer’s field.

“Where are we, Brigadier?”

“In a field about six kilometers south of Colditz. This is the early morning of Wednesday, July 2, 1941. We jumped ahead in time by thirty hours, to avoid creating a time paradox.”

“And Colditz?”

Nancy pointed North, where fires were still visible in the distance.

“What little is left of the town is still burning. As for the castle, there is nothing left of it but smoldering rubble. Berlin still thinks that everyone here in this field is dead, cremated in the ruins of Colditz. Dawn will come in about two hours, at which time you

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will be able to collect the survivors and lead them back to the town. Luftwaffe troops are still fighting off the fires there and will be able to assist you.” Nancy looked around at the civilians and soldiers in the field and shook her head in sadness.

“We were not able to save even the majority of the population of Colditz. Thousands died because of me.”

Schmidt patted her shoulder gently.

“Don’t be so rough on yourself, Brigadier: the British are to blame, not you. Any other prisoner but you wouldn’t have given even a second thought about the citizens of Colditz, let alone about my men. I am in your debt, like all the other Germans here now.”

“I only did the decent thing to do, Herr Schmidt. It still wasn’t enough. How about organizing those people before panic sets in?”

“Good idea! Let me do that.”

Nancy, drained by her last rescue, stood and watched as Schmidt started yelling orders, assembling his soldiers and giving directives to the civilians, the great majority of whom were women and children. After five minutes, Schmidt had the lot moved to the side of the secondary road running North-South alongside the field. Nancy approached him then.

“Colonel, I would actually have a favor to ask from you, if you don’t mind.”

“We owe you our lives, Brigadier. You would have the right to ask anything, actually.”

Nancy smiled weakly, lowering her head for a moment before looking back at him.

“This may sound strange, but I would like to speak to one of your soldiers:

Schütze3 Michel Hofmann.”

“Hofmann?” Said Schmidt, clearly surprised. “But he is my youngest, least experienced soldier. Why are you interested in him?”

“Actually, mostly because he is so young, apart from being an intelligent and caring person. To tell the truth, I have started recruiting young people with potential for my own organization, both Germans and non-Germans. Those people will in turn go to the future with me and help me preserve and protect history.” Schmidt thought that over for a long moment. Young Private Hofmann had been one of his soldiers wounded in the first British raid on Colditz and had been healed by Laplante.

3 Schütze: Private

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As his commander, Schmidt knew the young man as a shy, reserved teenager whose cultured tastes were more typical of those found in a university than in a Wehrmacht unit. He also knew from reports from Feldwebel Buhlingen that Hofmann was in awe of Nancy Laplante, something not very surprising or even uncommon in light of the events of the last few days.

“So, you want to recruit my soldier into your organization, Brigadier?”

“Correct, Colonel. One less soldier won’t be a big thing for you, but he could mean a lot to me.”

“Letting him go could brand me as a traitor, Brigadier.”

“Welcome to the club, Colonel. Look, you could declare him missing during the bombing. This is a chance for a new, exciting life for him, a life where he would be able to help all of Humanity through time.”

“Alright, you can have a talk with him, in private.”

“Thank you, Colonel. You are a nice man.”

“And you are…hell, I don’t even know anymore what you are, except that you are both brave and most decent.”

“I am a woman, nothing more.”

Schmidt bowed his head in respect, then called in Feldwebel Buhlingen to tell him to find and bring discreetly Private Hofmann to him. The old soldier was soon back with the teenager, who saluted both Schmidt and Nancy crisply.

“Private Hofmann, reporting as ordered, sir!”

“At ease, Private. Brigadier Laplante wished to speak to you. Listen to her, then you may do as you wish. Do you understand?”

“Er, yes sir!” said hesitantly the blond teenager. He stared at Nancy in silence as Schmidt and Buhlingen walked away, leaving them alone. She looked in turn at the handsome, tall blue-eyed boy, and smiled.

“You told me once that you would like to be able to go to the future with me, Private. This is your chance to do just that. Colonel Schmidt has agreed to let you go and will declare you missing and presumed killed in the bombing. The decision is now yours. If this could help you, I can tell you that a number of other Germans, both men and women, have already enlisted in my organization. There are also a number of non-Germans in my group. So, what is your decision?”

The young man swallowed hard, overwhelmed by all the recent events. He however had dreamed too much about such a moment to say no to her offer.

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“I want to go with you, Brigadier.”

“Good! From now on, call me Nancy, Michel.”

“Yes, Brig…I mean, Nancy.”

“Alright, go give your rifle and web gear to Feldwebel Buhlingen, then come back to me.”

As the teenager ran away, Nancy called the HERMES through a time relay probe positioned above the nearby field.

“HERMES, this is Nancy. I am at coordinates Delta. I request a pickup for me and one passenger.”

“Nancy, thank the stars! We thought that you had been killed. Are you alright?”

“Of course I am. Feel free to bring the HERMES to my location. By the way, give my appreciations to our probe controllers: they did a first-rate job.”

“The word will be passed. We will be there shortly.”

Following that conversation, Nancy went to Schmidt, where she was joined by Michel Hoffmann, and shook hands with the senior officer.

“I sincerely hope that you and your men survive this war and get to enjoy peace again, Colonel Schmidt. You were always the perfect gentleman.”

“And you the perfect angel, Brigadier.”

“A more accurate title would be ‘The Hand of The One’, Colonel. I only promote his word on this sad world. Before Private Hoffmann and I go, could I ask you to tell your men to hold their fire for a while? My ship is going to pick us up shortly.”

“Count on me, miss.”

Schmidt then faced Hoffmann and shook his hand.

“Good luck in your new life, Private Hoffmann. I truly envy you.”

“Thank you, sir!”

Nancy and the young soldier then walked away, following the road south for a while before going off it and walking in the farmer’s field. Stopping about fifty meters from the road, Nancy then activated the time beacon transmitter integrated to her helmet. The large, thirty-meter-long ovoid shape of the heavy time shuttle HERMES appeared in a flash of white light 30 seconds later over their heads. The ship then landed silently twenty meters from them, its navigational lights illuminating its markings on its gray hull. A cargo ramp wide enough for two trucks lowered to the ground at the rear, revealing a cargo bay lit by red lights. Nancy pointed the opening to Hoffmann.

“After you, Michel.”

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The teenager didn’t have to be told twice, nearly running to the ship in excitement. Going up the ramp at a trot, they were met in the cargo bay by Mona Zirel. The young, beautiful giant looked down in appreciation at the blond-haired young German, who in turn eyed her with fascination.

“Decidedly, Nancy, you have good tastes. This ancestor’s hair does add character to your people, too.”

“Thanks! May I present you Michel Hoffmann, our newest recruit. Michel, this is Mona Zirel, an engineer from the year 3384. Don’t worry about her height: all the people of the 34th century are bald giants.”

Michel, eyeing discreetly the shapely body of Mona, shook hands with her before following Nancy deeper inside the cargo bay. The eight workstations in the forward part of the cargo bay were unmanned, but eight men were waiting besides them, escorted by Mike Crawford. Mike was armed with a stun pistol, just in case trouble flared up. Michel Hoffmann hesitated at the sight of the eight ex-prisoners from Colditz, who in turn eyed him with some suspicion.

“Come on, guys!” said Nancy in a friendly tone. “You all know that Private Hoffmann is a decent fellow. Besides, the war is finished for him.”

“What about us?” asked Mark Lindsay, still not knowing what Nancy’s plans for them were. “Are you returning us to England?”

“It will depend on you, actually. Michel has accepted to come to the future to work for me. I was hoping that you would do the same and start a new, exciting life in the year 3384. I can guarantee good pay, excellent benefits, top-notch equipment and lots of danger.”

“Sounds like what I want out of life.” replied Jim Milner, smiling. “Are there lots of girls available too?”

“Tons, especially if you don’t mind German women.”

“Hey, I’m not a racist.”

“Good! If you turn out to be one, I would then be forced to boot you back to 1941. That applies to all of you and is a very serious point with me. I selected you as possible recruits because you proved to be tolerant and intelligent people, up to now. If you accept to work for me, you will then live in a society where racism, intolerance and brutality are not accepted. You will have to adapt and to accept things that you may find questionable in normal time, like open sexuality and lack of belief in any religion. If you think that this is not for you, tell me now and I will drop you with the others in London. I

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know that you are all either single men or widowers, except for William Anderson, so family ties are probably not a serious factor. As for you, William, know that I will be happy to bring your family to the future if you and your wife wish so. What do you say, guys?”

“Count me in!” said Milner without hesitation, closely followed by Jean Bigras, Sven Larsen, Jan Nierman and Samuel Goldman. After some thinking, Fernand Brunet and Mark Lindsay also said yes. William Anderson’s decision was a much tougher one to take.

“Nancy, your offer is extremely tempting, but I don’t know what my wife Kathleen will say about this. I also have a daughter and a son to think about. What will happen to them if I decide to go to the future?”

“They will keep going to school and live a normal life, but in a place where war has not been known for 500 years. They will also have a chance to do things that no children in 1941 could even dream of doing, like visiting the outer planets of the Solar System. Think of their future as much as of yours, William.”

“Damn, I would say yes if I would be alone. I will need to talk with my wife about that before taking a decision, though.”

“You will have a chance to do that soon, I promise. Now, let’s go forward to the passengers’ lounge, where we will be more comfortable.” The heavy shuttle, its rear cargo ramp now closed, was lifting off as they entered the lounge. The fifteen persons inside took their eyes from the video screens lining the walls which had been showing them the outside world and examined the newcomers. Ingrid Weiss and Johanna Fink immediately made a place between them for Michel Hoffmann to sit down, smiling invitingly at him. The eight Allied ex-prisoners were greeted with polite reserve, though, and sat opposite the Germans. Nancy didn’t sit with either group, standing instead in the middle of the lounge so that everyone could see her plainly. Mona Zirel joined her there, towering over her by two heads.

“For your information, this ship is about to go to London. After seeing if the family of Major Anderson accepts to come with us, we will collect a few more agents from this century, then call it a day and depart for the future. While I am on the ground, you will be able to follow the action on the wall video screens of this lounge. If you need anything in the meantime, just ask my friend Mona here.” Having said that in German, she then repeated herself in English and French before leaving the lounge yet again, going up via a spiral staircase this time. Seconds later, a

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flash of light permeated the lounge for an instant. The view on the screens changed abruptly from the darkness of the countryside near Colditz to a high-altitude daylight view of London. Mark Lindsay waited nervously for the black clouds from exploding anti-aircraft shells to appear but nothing came, prompting him to look questioningly at Mona.

“How come the London defenses are not reacting to us, miss?”

“Because they can’t detect us, mister. This ship is invisible to radar and is too high up to be seen with the naked eye. The pictures you will soon see from the ground will be relayed via a miniature spy probe.”

12:06 (GMT)

Tuesday, July 1, 1941 ‘B’

Rented apartment

Sutherland Avenue, Paddington District

London

The small woman in her early thirties opened her mouth in stunned surprise at the sight of the visitor at her door, then threw herself in the man’s arms.

“WILLIAM! You’re free at last!”

“I am, Kathleen.” said William Anderson, sobs of joy choking his voice. “Are the kids home?”

“Yes, they are. We were about to have lunch. God, they are going to be so happy. Come!”

Closing the door behind him, William crossed the short hallway and entered the dining room, which also served as a kitchen. The twelve-year-old girl and ten-year-old boy sitting at the table looked at him as if he was a ghost.

“FATHER!” shouted in unison Carolyn and Michael before jumping out of their seats and throwing themselves into William’s arms. He savored that moment for a long time, kissing and holding them, before guiding them back to the table, where he himself took a seat. Kathleen looked at him expectantly while holding an empty plate.

“Are you hungry? We were having some potatoes and corned beef.”

“I will have some with pleasure, dear.”

Kathleen quickly served him, then sat beside him. The four of them ate in silence for a few seconds before Kathleen spoke to William.

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“So, how did you get out of Colditz? Did you escape or did they do a prisoner exchange?”

“I escaped with the help of Brigadier Laplante, along with many others.” That got both his wife and his children excited.

“Nancy Laplante raided Colditz?” asked Carolyn, bringing an embarrassed smile on her father’s face.

“Actually, Nancy Laplante was captured by the Germans a week ago and sent to Colditz. Then, something happened and the Germans decided to send her back to Berlin. From there, she escaped to the future and returned with a time ship, which she used to take me and others away from Colditz.”

“A time ship?” said softly Kathleen, awed. “How did she get back to the future in the first place?”

“Some people from the far future came to take her back to her time. She has however decided to work for these people and has started an organization called the Time Patrol, which will patrol time and protect history from illegal manipulations.”

“Sounds like a fine idea to me. One would not want some lunatics to rewrite history whichever way they wanted.” said Kathleen.

“Father, what happened in Colditz to make the Germans send Nancy Laplante back to Berlin? It was not to hurt her, I hope?” cut in Carolyn. William looked down fondly at his daughter. She was a bright girl with long black hair and promised to become a beautiful woman in a few years.

“No, Carolyn. The Germans in Colditz were actually very respectful of her. What happened is that a miracle happened a few days ago in Colditz.” William then took a good five minutes to tell his astonished family what had happened in the last five days. He then concluded with his big surprise.

“Nancy Laplante has asked me to work for her in the future, in the year 3384 to be more exact. I told her that it would depend on you.”

“I want to go!” shouted immediately Michael, imitated by Carolyn. Kathleen was however much less enthusiastic.

“What about our friends and relatives here? Wouldn’t you also be considered a deserter for leaving like this in the middle of the war?”

“Maybe, but I could be so much more useful to the whole of Humanity as part of the Time Patrol. This would also be a chance to offer a fantastic new life to our children, Kathleen. Please, don’t dismiss this offer too quickly.”

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“Come on, Mother, say yes!” pleaded Carolyn, nearly jumping from excitement. Kathleen still hesitated.

“Could you tell me more about this, William? This is a very big decision to take, after all.”

“It is, dear. The people of 3384 are technologically and socially very advanced, but they are also utter pacifists with no military skills whatsoever. They are also bald giants who would stick out like a sore thumb in most time periods. Nancy Laplante is thus recruiting people from various places and time periods as field agents and ship crewmembers. The pay, benefits and living conditions are to be vastly superior to anything we could hope for if I stayed in the British Army. The job will be risky, of course, but no more so than now, and would involve myself traveling through various time periods while under disguise. This would be a brand-new life for all of us, Kathleen, a life others could only dream about. No more postings every two or three years; no more transfers to backwater garrisons and rundown married quarters.” Kathleen looked around the dining room and at what she could see of the small lounge of their apartment while thinking over what William had said. The flat they were living in since the start of the war was a cramped one, furnished with old furniture which belonged to the owner. Apart from their clothes, cutlery and dishes, they owned little in the apartment. The pay of an army major, while greatly superior to that of a simple soldier, was nothing to shout about, especially when raising two children. William could not count on some family fortune to supplement his pay, the way many senior officers coming from the aristocracy did. The only luxury they owned was a well-used Morris, four-door sedan car.

“What about the children? Where will they go to school?”

“They will study with all the other children of 3384 and be able to learn things we can’t even imagine. As an example, Nancy told me that everybody would be going tomorrow on a recreational visit to a Space city.”

Carolyn and Michael gasped in wonderment, while Kathleen herself couldn’t help try to imagine what that would be like. She finally gave in to his arguments.

“Alright, dear. The future it is. What do we do now?”

“We pack our clothes and our personal souvenirs and leave after writing letters for our respective relatives. Everything we will need to live will be provided free to us in 3384. I will talk to the landlady and pay three months’ rent, so that she doesn’t make a fuss about us leaving. Don’t worry about the money: Nancy provided me with enough to

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cover our moving expenses. A cash enlistment bonus is also waiting for me in 3384, so that we can live comfortably until my first pay and do some shopping for luxuries.”

“That is certainly better than what the Army has accustomed me to.” replied Kathleen, remembering some of the transfers they had to go through before the war. “What about our car?”

“We bring it with us. We won’t really use it in 3384, as most travel is by air vehicles, but Nancy told me that it will be useful to teach driving to some of her agents. She will reimburse us for the car, of course.”

“Talking of those agents, what kind of people are they like?” William smiled in embarrassment, trying to find words that would not antagonize his wife.

“As I said, Nancy is recruiting people from all over the place, as long as they are intelligent, resourceful, brave and open-minded, so that they could cope with traveling through various time periods and cultures. We are due to recruit more people in two days, but she has already a few British, French, Americans, a Dutchman, a Norwegian… and a few Germans.”

“GERMANS?” shouted Kathleen, shocked. “What the hell is Laplante doing with Germans?”

“Please, Kathleen. I met those Germans and they are not at all what you think. They are not fanatics or even Nazis. Nancy even adopted one of them, a sixteen-year-old girl who was a war orphan. Those Germans are actually nice, decent people.”

“Germans…” said Kathleen with a sigh. “I hope that you know what you are getting us into, William.”

William patted gently her shoulder while smiling in encouragement.

“I do, dear. You know me!”

10:32 (Central Pacific Time)

Friday, July 2, 1937 ‘A’

Patrol ship WALKUREN

Southeast Marshall Islands

Pacific Ocean

All eyes were on the video screens of the shuttle’s passenger lounge, where a small, twin-engine aircraft could be seen flying at medium altitude over the Pacific Ocean. Hanna Reitsch ‘B’ was at the controls of the WALKUREN, with Ingrid Weiss ‘B’ as

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copilot and Bertha Beinholdt ‘B’ and Ilsa Bauman ‘B’ acting as sensors and weapons operators. Maran Tolvek ‘B’ was on his part serving as the flight engineer of the scoutship, while Nancy sat in the seat left free in the cockpit.

“A Lockheed 10-E ELECTRA. It’s registry number corresponds to that of Amelia Earhart’s plane.” said Hanna Reitsch, making Nancy nod her head.

‘’Very well! Follow it discreetly until it runs out of fuel, then grab the plane with our tractor beam, time for us to transfer Earhart and Noonan aboard. In the meantime, I will go see how our other passengers are doing in the cargo bay.’’

Going to the rear of the cockpit and climbing down the staircase leading to the crew quarters, Nancy then took a second staircase down to an airlock giving access to the cargo bay of the patrol ship. The airlock was actually meant to allow access to the cargo bay even when it was open to the vacuum of space. It also had an armored door giving directly to the outside. Crossing the airlock, Nancy then set foot in the cargo bay, twenty meters long and six meters wide. A good forty persons occupied the cargo bay, including nine uniformed members of the Time Patrol., while a large padded mattress sat in the middle. Nancy smiled while passing by Mike Crawford, who was with what she called ‘the Crawford Clan’. Apart from Mike, the clan counted Jack Crawford and his wife and son, as well as Jack’s parents and his kid sister, a young widow with a baby. Nancy was however preoccupied by two other groups of persons in the compartment, groups that kept separated and were watched carefully by her agents. Samuel Goldman ‘B’, an American Jew born in Russia, was talking with one of those groups, formed of two young women wearing the uniforms of Soviet aviators. Frida Winterer ‘B’ and Johanna Fink ‘B’ were on their part talking with the second group, which was made of five young German women wearing dirty anti-aircraft defense Luftwaffe auxiliaries’ uniforms. That group actually included three examples of what the Time Patrol called ‘timeline twins’. Ingrid Weiss ‘A’, Frida Winterer ‘A’ and Johanna Fink ‘A’ had been saved from certain death in their Berlin shelter in February of 1945, as they were about to be incinerated by an American incendiary bomb in the company of Lisa Gerhardt ‘A’ and Martha Brumbach ‘A’. With only charred bodies found afterwards in their shelter, and with their personnel files closed the next day with the mention ‘killed in action’, the Time Patrol had found it easy to pick them up by transit probes, then replace them with the bodies of five young women from 1945 who were already dead. Saving Lieutenants Lidiya Litvyak ‘A’ and Katya Budanova ‘A’ in 1943 had however been a bit more

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complicated, with the two Soviet female fighter pilots having to be extracted in flight from their burning, doomed Yak-1 fighter planes.

Nancy presented herself first in Russian to Lidiya Litvyak and Katya Budanova, who were eating with gusto a meal just served up by Natia Mindicor ‘A’, newly enrolled in the Time Patrol as a stewardess and purser.

‘’I hope that you approve of the hospitality shown on this ship, Lieutenants. We should arrive at our base in a few hours, after recuperating two other persons and observing a key event in Humanity’s history. We will then be able to speak at length.’’ Lidiya Litvyak, more commonly known as ‘Lilya’ by her friends, was a small but beautiful young blonde with curly hair and piercing blue eyes. She eyed Nancy with reservation.

‘’Your food is certainly vastly superior to the rations of the Red Army, Miss Laplante, but you don’t keep very good company. Why did you save those five Nazis? The others and can understand and approve, but them…’’ Nancy didn’t get angry at that and answered her calmly.

‘’Because these women, while Germans, are not Nazis and are decent persons, Lieutenant. Would you say that all Soviets are members of the NKVD?’’ Litvyak hesitated, then lowered her head, recognizing her point.

‘’I can see what you mean, miss. I must say however that I am still somewhat overwhelmed by what happened to me. One moment, I was falling in my burning fighter, strafed by eight German fighters, then I find myself here by magic. Can I ask if the two other persons you want to save are Germans?’’

‘’They are Americans, Lieutenant. In fact, you may have heard about them six years ago. They should appear soon in the cargo bay. Continue to enjoy your meal in the meantime.’’

Nancy then went to the group of five German women. Those five, apart from being still under the shock of their recent experience, were clearly marked by more than five long years of war, looking both exhausted and famished. They were definitely going to need weeks of recuperation time before starting their training as members of the Time Patrol. Nancy smiled tenderly at Ingrid Weiss ‘A’, even though she had never met her before, as the German girl devoured her meal.

‘’How is the morale of your squad, Truppenführerin Weiss?’’ asked Nancy in German.

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‘’Better but still confused, Miss Laplante.’’

‘’Please, call me simply Nancy. We will return in a few hours to our base in 3384, where you will be able to wash yourselves and go to sleep in a real bed.’’

‘’That will be nice indeed, miss.’’ said Martha Brumbach ‘A’, the oldest of the lot at 26 and a strongly-built woman who could not be called pretty. ‘’My nerves already feel better from not hearing bombs explode anymore.’’

She then opened a pocket of her grey coverall and took out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Nancy however gently took the pack from her before she could light a cigarette.

‘’I am sorry, Helferin Brumbach, but the use of tobacco is strictly forbidden in the society of the Global Council, for public health reasons. KEIKO, CAN YOU COME HERE FOR A MOMENT?’’

Keiko Miramoto, who had briefly examined each person after their arrival on the ship, hurried to Nancy with her medical kit. Nancy then spoke gently to the German women as Keiko was joining her.

‘’I will have to ask you to give me all the tobacco products you have on you. In exchange, Doctor Miramoto will give you nicotine patches which will help you wear off progressively your tobacco dependency. I have to warn you that the rules on public health are quite strict in the Global Council.’’

The five Germans, including Ingrid Weiss ‘A’, obeyed her somewhat reluctantly and gave her their cigarettes, while Keiko asked them about their level of tobacco usage in order to calculate the strength of nicotine patches needed for them. As Nancy was throwing the packs of cigarettes in the nearest garbage chute, the voice of Hanna Reitsch came out of the loud-speakers of the cargo bay.

‘’The Lockheed ELECTRA has entered a final dive. The first passenger will arrive in twenty seconds.’’

Nancy, as well as Rebecca Milner, Mike Crawford and Klaus Manheim, took place at once at each corner of the mattress sitting in the middle of the hold, which was surrounded by a set of space-time beacons which would help the transit probes jump with precision to the cargo bay.

Fred Noonan, the navigator of the Lockheed ELECTRA, was the first to appear above the mattress, a transfer probe still glued to his back. He fell for less than a meter on the mattress, then sat up there for a moment, totally disoriented and confused. Mike and Klaus then hurried to him and pulled him off the mattress, to make place for Amelia

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Earhart. Noonan, a thin man of medium height, was still looking around him when a thin woman with curly blond hair cut short and freckles on her face appeared over the mattress and fell on it. This time, it was Nancy who went to pull her off, smiling to the famous aviatrix.

‘’Miss Earhart, welcome aboard the Time Patrol scout ship WALKUREN. I am sorry that your World tour was cut short like this, but history declared you missing over the Pacific today. My name is Nancy Laplante, Chief of Operations of the Time Patrol, based in the year 3384.’’

Amelia Earhart hesitated a moment before taking Nancy’s offered hand and letting her pull her back on her feet. She looked quickly at Noonan, checking that he was alright, before eyeing Nancy, who stood a good head higher than her.

‘’The Time Patrol? I don’t understand. And how did you take me out of my plane?’’

‘’The how is technically complicated, Miss Earhart. Let’s say that the 34th Century’s science allows us to do things that would look like magic to you. Your disappearance near Howland Island will become a famous chapter of the 20th Century. We thus decided to save you and Mister Noonan rather than let you die as history dictated. You will not however be able to return to the United States, as it would change history, possibly with unpredictable consequences.’’

‘’And why did you save me then, if you are not planning to return me to the United States?’’ replied Earhart, becoming angry. She then noticed Keiko Miramoto and shot an angry look at Nancy.

‘’Don’t tell me that you are working for the Japanese.’’

Nancy shook her head sadly, disappointed by that reaction.

‘’Miss Earhart, nobody in the 20th Century knows anything about time travel. Doctor Keiko Miramoto is a Japanese, yes, but she comes from the year 2053, when we saved her from certain death, the same way we saved many others from various time periods. The Time Patrol represents and defends the interests of the whole of Humanity, and not only those of some countries in particular. Come and meet a few more Americans whom we saved.’’

Nancy then led her by the hand towards the Crawford clan, where Angie Wells and Carmen Sanchez were also sitting with members of their own families. The two Navy pilots got up at their approach and eyed Earhart with reverence.

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‘’Miss Earhart, it is a true honor to be able to meet such a famous aviatrix as you. I am Navy Lieutenant Carmen Sanchez.’’

‘’And I am Sub-Lieutenant Angie Wells, based like Carmen on the carrier USS RONALD REAGAN.’’

Amelia could not help smile in amusement at the mention of the carrier’s name.

‘’The USS RONALD REAGAN? You are joking, right?’’

‘’Not at all, Miss Earhart.’’ replied Angie, serious. ‘’For you, Ronald Reagan may only be a radio host and a starting actor, but he will eventually become the 40th President of the United States and will serve two terms, from 1981 to 1989.’’ Amelia paled, then examined the modern flight suits worn by the two young pilots, with their unit and rank insignias. She then looked at the Crawford’s, who were wearing civilian clothes from the 21st Century and who went in age from fourteen months to 57 years.

‘’My God! I really am in a time machine.’’

‘’More than a simple time machine, Miss Earhart.’’ corrected Nancy. ‘’This is a ship able to travel through Space and go to the other planets of the Solar System. Please follow me to the cockpit: I have someone to show you whom you will probably recognize.’’

Frankly intrigued by now, Amelia let Nancy guide her up to the cockpit. Her eyes widened when the pilot turned her head and smiled to her.

‘’Hanna Reitsch, the German high altitude gliding champion?’’

‘’Correction: World gliding champion.’’ replied Hanna before presenting her right hand. ‘’It is a true pleasure to have been able to help save your life, Miss Earhart.’’ Amelia shook her hand before looking, fascinated, at the holographic image of the outside projected around the platform supporting the crew positions.

‘’This technology is incredible! Piloting such a ship must be like a dream.’’

‘’If you join us, Miss Earhart, you will be able to realize that dream.’’ said softly Nancy. ‘’Our mission is to protect the integrity of history from illegal time travel and manipulations, plus documenting in detail the history of Humanity. This brings us to our next stop. Hanna, jump to Earth low orbit, above the American East Coast, at three O’clock in the morning of September 8, 2052 ‘A’.’’

‘’Got it!’’

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A few seconds later, a brief flash of white light filled the cockpit, surprising Amelia. The view of the outside then changed drastically, showing the American East Coast at night from Space. Amelia admired in silence for long seconds the view of Earth, with the North American land mass covering over a third of the screens. After two minutes, a brief but searing point of light appeared for a few seconds over the location of New York City, followed soon by two more points of lights. A fourth point of light, this time over Washington, appeared, making Amelia look in confusion at Nancy. She was then surprised to see her cry silently while watching the screens.

‘’What are those points of light, miss?’’

‘’The explosions of thermonuclear warheads, each with a destructive power equivalent to a few hundred thousand tons of explosives. Each point of light represents the destruction of a city, a military base or an industrial center. September 8 of 2052 is the date when Humanity nearly erased itself from the surface of the Earth, killing with it the great majority of all the animal and vegetal species. Of the more than eight billion humans living on Earth in 2052, less than a million will still be alive a year after.’’ Amelia looked again at the screens, horror now in her eyes, as thousands of points of light flashed one after the other in quick succession around the surface of the planet. Dozens of points of lights suddenly appeared in the same area of Montana, in the United States, tightly grouped together.

‘’My God! What was there in Montana to warrant such a level of destruction?’’

‘’The Air force base of Malmstrom, home to the launch silos of 200 American intercontinental ballistic nuclear missiles.’’ answered Nancy, her voice half strangled by tears. ‘’Malmstrom, like two more missile bases in Minot, North Dakota, and in Warren, Wyoming, constituted priority targets for anyone attacking the United States and who wished to avoid nuclear retaliation. However, most of the missile silos that are now being destroyed are already empty, their missiles already launched and on their way to their own targets. Montana and the rest of the Midwest will become as a result one of the most violently radioactive regions on Earth for the decades to come. The Crawford family lived on a farm in Montana and were condemned to die within days following this nuclear exchange. Since one of our new members was from that clan, we saved the Crawford’s’ from certain death, plus we evacuated to the future via another time ship a herd of horses, an animal species which became extinct after 2052.’’

‘’How could Humanity commit such a monstrous act of stupidity?’’ nearly yelled Amelia, upset and near tears by now.

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‘’One of the goals of the Time Patrol will be to find an answer to that question, Amelia. You can join us and help find the answer, or you can start a new life in the 34th Century. It’s your choice.’’

Amelia looked again at the screens, where points of light kept bursting around the Earth, before facing Nancy.

‘’You can count on me, Miss Laplante, as long as I am not forced to kill anyone. I am an avowed pacifist.’’

‘’I know, Amelia. We have a number of positions to fill as pilots of unarmed ships and shuttles. We certainly can and will use your services.’’

10:22 (North America Central Time)

Thursday, December 3, 3384 ‘A’

Headquarters building of the Time Patrol

New Lake City University campus, Great Lakes region North America, Global Council

Farah Tolkonen nodded her head, satisfied, as Nancy finished debriefing her on the results of her recruiting mission.

‘’We thus have 21 new recruits ready to be trained and educated. We will now be ready to start the formal training of our agents; on top of the general education they had been getting. I must say that I didn’t realize at first how much preparations the formation of our organization demanded.’’

‘’I must recognize that the last three months were quite busy, Farah.’’ replied Nancy, sitting in a chair facing Farah’s work desk. ‘’However, our members from the two first groups didn’t waste any time. With my help, they were able to explore and remember their past incarnations, which brought them invaluable knowledge and life experiences and also gave them much more maturity individually. They also learned quite quickly about the technology of the Global Council. The performance of the crew of the WALKUREN during this last mission was exemplary. Even Maran Tolvek was surprised by their efficiency at operating our scout ship prototype.’’

‘’I must say that the equipment and craft of the Global Council are made to be easy to operate, Nancy, contrary to the equipment of the 20th Century. I still remember the reactions of the instructor pilots at the Space piloting school in New Lake City

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Astroport, when Hanna Reitsch basically flew circles around them after only three practice sessions in flight simulators.’

Nancy couldn’t help grin as she remembered that moment.

‘’Farah, don’t forget that Hanna was an experienced test pilot in 1941 and had tested some of the most dangerous, unstable planes ever built. Also, a pre-2052 pilot had to endure high G loads of six Gs or more while keeping manual control of its plane, something no pilot of the Global Council ever had to endure.’’

‘’True! Talking of recruits, a new possible candidate has arrived here thirty minutes ago…under police escort. I told him briefly what we did and the reasons why we wanted his services and he appeared interested. I would however like you to meet him, so that you could give me your opinion on him as a potential member of the Time Patrol. He is presently waiting in the visitors’ lounge, with Heinrik Braun and Sean Brady to watch over him.’’

‘’Remind me of his name, Farah.’’

‘’Baran Maslik. I have to say that he seems to be an interesting man, quite atypical from others in the Global Council.’’

‘’Baran Maslik… Well, I should be able to give you my opinion on him in the coming hour.’’

10:29 (North America Central Time)

Visitors’ lounge, Time Patrol headquarters

Despite being 74 years old, Baran Maslik had the appearance of a man of thirty, something that was common for the citizens of the Global Council, who received genetic longevity treatment as part of their standard health care. His young appearance however hid a vast experience, apart from a level of ambition and ego far above the norm in his society. Maslik was also a man who enjoyed taking on challenges. Unfortunately, the Global Council had practically eliminated everything that could present a challenge, either by automating systems or by using robots for the jobs considered too dangerous or risky. He thus had decided over twenty years ago to create his own challenges. One of those challenges was to show the officers of the Public Security Service for the incompetent idiots they were, notably by going around the computer security protocols of the government’s systems, with the goal of altering the information in the government’s databanks. Maslik was not an anarchist or a nihilist,

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however, and did nothing without a reason. Instead, he used his genius for imagery and computer technologies to create for himself a clandestine source of extra revenues, revenues which had helped him buy luxury goods and services that his small printing shop in Milan could not offer him legally. There was a plethora of people in the Global Council who liked luxury but were too lazy or too incompetent to earn honestly enough money to pay for such luxuries. Maslik courted those people by promising, in exchange of a reasonable fee, to alter the various government files concerning them and thus making them eligible for supplementary benefits or premiums that they should not normally get. All had gone well for years until three years ago, when a new Public Security Service investigator had proved more intelligent than Maslik had thought, catching him in the act and sending him to jail. He had spent 34 long, boring months there in relative comfort and would still be there for another five years if not for that miraculous offer of a pardon in exchange for working for the Time Patrol. He had seen news reports about that new organization during his jail time and had to say that the idea of working for them attracted him. The two armed men standing behind his chair, despite being much shorter than him, however made him nervous, apart from making him give a second thought about working with these Ancestors.

A young and beautiful Ancestor woman suddenly entered the lounge, with Maslik eyeing her at once. He was normally a good judge of character and decided quickly that this woman should probably be taken very seriously. She was also armed and was quite muscular. She smiled to him and presented her right hand, which he shook. He found out at the same time that she was incredibly strong for her size.

‘’I am truly happy to meet you, Mister Maslik. I am Nancy Laplante, Chief of Operations of the Time Patrol. I believe that you were informed already about the kind of work you could do for us?’’

Maslik nodded his head while hiding the fear that her name had awakened in him: he was presently shaking hands with a certified mass killer with more than a hundred persons on her score sheet, if he could believe the news bulletin he had seen on her.

‘’Doctor Tolkonen did tell me about the job, miss. You basically want someone capable of producing high quality forged identity documents, and this for various time periods. I must however tell you that I know little about the techniques used to make documents prior to the 2052 Nuclear Holocaust.’’

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‘’I am certain that you will learn fast, Mister Maslik. We will provide you with authentic examples of identity papers and official documents from various time periods, which you will be able to study at length. I am however more interested to learn about your motivations for accepting to do such work. Why do you want to work with us?’’

‘’Uh, I must honestly tell you that I find life in the Global Council to present precious few challenges worthy of my talents, Miss Laplante. On the other hand, your organization departs quite a lot from other government agencies, starting with your use of weapons.’’

‘’Would you be ready to work from a time ship that could be attacked, or even destroyed?’’

Maslik hesitated only briefly before answering.

‘’Yes! I can’t reasonably expect to be able to infiltrate a computer network in the past, to erase or add files, while sitting here. I have taken my share of risks in the past…and paid the price for it. I am still ready today to take risks.’’

‘’We will do our best to minimize the risks to you, Mister Maslik. Understand however that my agents will depend on your work to avoid arrest, then possibly torture and execution, during their missions in the past. Their lives will be in your hands.’’ Maslik nodded in understanding, his face somber.

‘’Miss, my society may have labeled me as a criminal, but I never wished ill to anyone or wanted to be the cause of someone’s death or pain. I like luxury, I must confess, and the salary offered by the Time Patrol is very attractive. However, what interests me the most in your offer is the challenge that it will represent for me.’’ The young woman smiled again at those words.

‘’Well said, mister! I believe that you are most suitable for the job. You will be able to go sign your employment contract after this. Welcome to the Time Patrol!’’ As Maslik got up and shook hands with her, Nancy looked him straight in the eyes. He then heard her voice directly inside his head, although her lips had not moved.

‘’By the way, Mister Maslik, I am a telepath.’’