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

CHAPTER 14 – ASYLUM

09:47 (GMT)

Monday, June 18, 3386 ‘B’

Imperium Security Ministry laboratories

Greenwich, Outer London Area

Senior Scientist First Class Farah Tolkonen looked around for a last time at the laboratory where she had literally slaved for the last years on her time machine project. While she had been treated with deference and respect by the Security Ministry guards controlling the Greenwich scientific complex, Farah knew too well that she had kept her status solely because of the importance accorded to her project by General Alan Veck, head of the feared Imperium Security Ministry. She had too often shown a desire for independence in her work to expect much good from Veck once her project was completed. Farah’s suspicions had been recently confirmed when the prototype time ship she had helped conceive and build had been seized by Veck as soon as it had proved itself on a short trip to the past. Veck had also taken with him all the data he needed to build a fleet of time ships. Farah had managed to stay in her laboratory only by inventing a story about investigating the possibility of multiple, parallel timelines. While plausible enough for Veck to accept her story, that concept was still purely theoretical and one Farah didn’t believe possible to prove or demonstrate. Her worst fear now was that Veck would use her invention to go back in time and eliminate his opponents before they could even grow up to adulthood, in order to consolidate his grip on the Imperium. Even if Veck proceeded with caution and did only the minimum while in the past, Farah knew how destabilizing that could be to the spacetime continuum, with consequences impossible to predict. She didn’t even put Veck above going back in time to kill King Stan the Sixth, the last serious obstacle in his path towards absolute power. Farah would have herself asked the protection of the King, who was still widely respected, if not for the fact that the King was now down to being not much more than a figurehead, his faithful royal guardsmen the only ones still protecting the royal family of the Imperium from Veck’s monstrous ambition.

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The door of her laboratory now firmly locked from the inside, Farah then hurried to accomplish her ultimate plan: seeking safety and asylum in the distant past. Once there, she could probably influence enough the evolution of history to change its course and maybe erase the monstrosity that the Imperium had become in the last decades, and this before Veck could find her. She knew too well what kind of slow tortures she would go through if she was ever captured alive after initiating this escape. Going to the large locker containing her personalized spacesuit, Farah opened it and, opening the rear access hatch of the suit, slipped inside before closing the hatch. Unknown to Veck or any of his guards, she had secretly modified her spacesuit to turn it into a personal, one-person time machine. Since, like all Imperium spacesuits, it was already equipped with an anti-gravity system and a directed gravity drive, she had now the perfect autonomous escape vehicle to fill her needs. A mini-computer and data chips containing the scientific and historical data she would need in the past were already inside her suit, along with some gold coins, one stun pistol and one change of clothes. She could however spare no more space inside. Outside of the suit, in a belly pouch, were a machine pistol and spare ammunition, various tools and a mini-probe with its control box. Activating her suit’s systems, she then checked the data she had entered yesterday in the onboard computer: she was not jumping to some date chosen at random. Farah had in fact a date and place to start her search for maybe the only person who could possibly help her once in the past. Backing out of the locker, Farah then went to a storage cabinet which contained a number of chemicals, some of which could burn fiercely. Grabbing a particular plastic container, she opened it and poured the powder inside it all over the floor, counters and workstations of the laboratory. Once that was done, she fetched an electrical extension cord and plugged it to a wall outlet. She then threw the live wire’s denuded connector on top of one of the patches of powder on the floor. A blinding flash and a sheet of flames erupted immediately, making her step back. As the fire quickly spread, Farah mentally prayed for some luck and initiated her spacetime jump, disappearing in a flash of white light.

20:54 (GMT)

Monday, October 27, 1941 ‘B’

‘Café le Parisien’, Wardour Street

Soho District, London

England

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Peter O’Neal hid a smile of satisfaction when two French Army officers who had been drinking with a third one finally got up and exited the pub, leaving the target of his attention alone. He had used a lot of his personal time to track down that particular Frenchman, but he had precious few leads left to him now in his quest to find out what really happened to Nancy Laplante after her capture. Nearly everywhere else he had hit a wall of officially enforced silence and fabricated stories for close to four months. His first real break had come two months ago, when he had received an anonymous letter addressed to him at the editorial room of the DAILY TELEGRAPH newspaper. That letter had obviously been from someone who had an intense hatred of Nancy Laplante and who had been pissed by the hero cult the government had built around her. However much Peter had disagreed with the tone of the anonymous letter, it had nonetheless provided him with a brand-new lead for his quest. Much of the inquiring that had followed had to be done on his personal time, though, as his editor didn’t want him to waste more of his work time hours on Laplante’s case.

Getting up from his chair, Peter went quickly to the French officer’s table and took a seat facing him. Peter then spoke in a low, urgent tone, using his passable French.

“Excuse me for intruding like this, Major Bertrand, but I need to speak privately with you…about Nancy Laplante. My name is Peter O’Neal, reporter at the DAILY TELEGRAPH.”

Bertrand, a tough-looking man with a crooked nose, eyed him with both irritation and suspicion before starting to get up.

“I am sorry, mister, but I can’t talk to you about that. You should avoid it too if you don’t want trouble.”

“I only want to make sure that her name is not soiled by a few jealous assholes, Major. I promise you complete confidentiality. You have my word on that.” Bertrand hesitated for a moment before sitting back. Peter immediately ordered two more beers from a passing waitress, then spoke again in a low voice.

“Major, I received two months ago an anonymous letter that contradicted totally the officially accepted story on the death of Nancy Laplante. While the writer seemed to hate Laplante with a passion, he said in his letter that she had not been killed by the Gestapo and that she had been sent to Colditz Castle after her capture. That same

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writer pretended that Nancy Laplante had turned into a collaborator for the Germans and that she should be shot as a traitor instead of having a statue of her placed in Trafalgar Square.”

Bertrand shook his head in angry denial as he raised his pint.

“Was that writer British?”

“Yes, he wrote like one. Why?”

“Lieutenant Colonel Robertson... He’s one first class asshole alright. When Laplante arrived in Colditz at the end of June in a wheelchair and covered with hideous wounds, Robertson took less than a day to declare her a collaborator and to order the other prisoners to shun her.”

“Why?” asked Peter, frankly shocked and angered.

“Because she didn’t act like a person who hated Germans and because the Germans treated her very correctly in Colditz. I myself was skeptical about her conduct, but a few events quickly convinced me that she was something entirely different.”

“Like what?”

“Don’t laugh, but I think that she is an angel.”

Peter smiled at that.

“A lot of men have said that of her before, Major.”

“No! I mean a real angel, one that can fly, heal wounds with her mind and make miracles.”

Peter’s smile faded abruptly at those words.

“You…you can’t be serious, Major.”

“I am very serious, mister. Here are a few of the things she did…” Bertrand spoke for a good ten minutes, with the flabbergasted Peter taking notes as fast as he could. At the end of it, the reporter couldn’t help shake his head in disbelief.

“And you say that she is alive and well now, probably in the future.”

“With the kind of uniform she was wearing? You bet!”

“Well, that certainly was helpful, Major. Thank you very much!” The Frenchman shook his hand while getting up.

“Hey, if it can protect that woman’s reputation from the slanders of idiots like Robertson, then it was well worth it.”

Peter waited a few minutes after Bertrand’s departure, then left a tip for the waitress and left. The night air outside was fresh and damp and made him shiver in his old trench coat as he walked home to his little apartment on Bedford Avenue. The long walk let

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him plenty of time to think about what Bertrand had told him. One thing was for sure now: if he published what he now knew, he would get into big trouble with the government. He was not sure either that many people would believe him, so fantastic was Bertrand’s story. He needed more before he could publish anything.

Peter sighed with delight at the warmth of his apartment, taking off his trench coat and hanging it in the small closet by the door. The next thing he did was to carefully hide his precious notepad behind a loose plank in his bedroom closet. He was heating up some water for a cup of tea when someone knocked on his door. Opening it cautiously while leaving the safety chain on, he found himself facing three big men in civilian suits. One of them flashed an identity card.

“Mister Peter O’Neal? We are from the M.I.5 18. We would like to speak with you.”

“Uh, sure! One moment, please.”

His heart accelerating, he undid the door safety chain and opened the door wide. The three men walked in as if they owned the place, then faced Peter, their expression stern.

“Mister O’Neal, did you receive an anonymous letter concerning the late Brigadier Laplante a few weeks ago?”

Now as tense as a loaded spring, Peter hesitated slightly before answering.

“I am a reporter, sir. I often receive anonymous letters. I did get such a letter, but its content didn’t make sense, so I threw it away.”

The senior agent, who had noticed his nervousness and hesitation, frowned.

“You threw it away? Mister O’Neal, all your colleagues say that you had a nearly obsessive interest in Nancy Laplante. You also have been asking a lot of questions around lately concerning Laplante. Where were you tonight, by the way?”

“I was simply having a beer at a pub in Soho.” replied Peter, getting testy. “Is that a crime?”

“No, but divulging state secrets is. I will have to ask you to follow us to M.I.5 headquarters. We will also have to search your apartment.”

“But that’s preposterous! Where is your search warrant?”

“We are at war, sir! We don’t need a warrant.” said brusquely the senior agent before looking at his two partners. “Search the place but don’t make a mess of it.”

18 M.I.5: British counter-intelligence service

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Peter, a mix of anger and fear rising in him, could do nothing but watch as the two M.I.5 men searched his apartment carefully. After fifteen minutes, the two men came back to their leader.

“Nothing, sir.”

“Alright, let’s go back to headquarters with Mister O’Neal.”

Thankfully, they did not handcuff Peter before going down to their car, a big black Bentley, where another agent was waiting behind the steering wheel. Peter ended up sandwiched between two men on the rear bench for the short drive to M.I.5 headquarters. Once there, Peter was brought to a basement section closed off by a steel door, then to a bare room with a small table and two chairs. A large mirror covered part of a wall. Peter understood quickly that it had to be a false mirror, with people watching him from behind it. A newcomer came in the room as soon as Peter sat down at the table. A tall but lean man with short black hair and a cold expression, he took time to stare at Peter before speaking.

“Mister O’Neal, I am told that you have been asking a lot of questions about Nancy Laplante lately.”

“So? I am a reporter and she was one of my prime sources of stories.”

“But she is dead now. Why do you persist in asking questions about her?”

“Because, as I told these men, I received about two months ago an anonymous letter with a wild story about Laplante in it. So, I made a few inquiries about those allegations but found nothing to substantiate them.”

Peter then spoke for a few minutes, telling nearly everything that he had done so that he would sound truthful, but not all and certainly nothing about his encounter with Major Bertrand. His listener seemed to believe him when he concluded, nodding his head once.

“That corresponds pretty much with what others have told us. We found the author of that anonymous letter, by the way: he made the mistake of sending quite a few of them around. He really seemed peeved about Nancy Laplante.”

“The idiot! Another one who couldn’t stomach the fact that a woman could do great things.”

Peter’s deliberate slip got him a strange look from his interlocutor.

“Maybe. We will still need to check a few things. In the meantime, I am afraid that you will have to stay here for a day or two.”

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“A day or two?” exclaimed Peter. “What about my work? I have to warn my editor about this.”

“No!” replied firmly the M.I.5 man. “We will call your editor in your place. This investigation is too sensitive at this stage to let you call anybody.”

“What about a lawyer, dammit? I am entitled to one under British law, after all.”

“Not in this case, mister. We are at war and the security of the state is at risk. Count yourself lucky not to find yourself locked up in the Tower of London under charges of spying or treason.”

“I don’t believe this! All this fuss for a dead woman? What is it about Laplante that scares you so much?”

“We are not afraid of that trait…” started to reply angrily the agent before he held his tongue. Now furious at his own slip, he pointed a menacing finger at Peter, who was smiling in triumph. “You are becoming too smart for your own good, mister. Since you like that bitch so much, you will end up where she should have been sent. Jack, have him locked up in the Tower on charges of breaking the Official Secrets Act.” Peter glared at the agent, understanding finally what this was all about as two agents took hold of him by his arms.

“I should have known. You bastards really tried to kill her in Colditz Castle, then tried to silence her to cover your own treacherous ways. I bet that you are after the secret of time travel and that she stopped you from getting it, isn’t it?” The sudden fury on the face of the senior agent was enough of an answer for Peter before they dragged him out of the room. His hands were roughly handcuffed in his back, then he was pushed along the basement hallway, ending up exiting the building through a rear door. The black Bentley was waiting for them there. Peter was pushed inside and, with two agents sandwiching him on the backbench seat, the car drove off in the night. Nobody spoke up during the short trip, which gave time to Peter to seriously think over everything that had happened today. He was now sure that the British government had something very embarrassing to hide from public knowledge, something which involved both Nancy Laplante and time travel. If what Major Bertrand had told him about Nancy was true, then those M.I.5 idiots probably got hammered by her in whatever encounter they had with her after the bombing of Colditz. That would explain the senior agent’s characterization of Nancy as a ‘bitch’. Peter then realized something that made him smile: since he was going to be in the Tower of London, he was going to be able to meet at least some of the German women held there, who

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happened to have spent quite a lot of time with Nancy if his sources in the Army were correct. The idea of trying to get information on Nancy out of German prisoners of war felt bizarre to him, but those women were supposedly a pretty decent lot, particularly in the case of a teenager named Ingrid Weiss. In fact, his Army sources had often mentioned a sort of special relationship that had been apparent between that young Ingrid and Nancy.

Peter got back to reality when the car stopped in front of the gate tower of the old fortress. Two agents pulled him out and escorted him to the gate, where an officer and two soldiers were waiting for them. One of the agents showed his identification card to the officer.

“Agent Jones, M.I.5. This man is to be kept in strict isolation until further notice. Sensitive government secrets are involved.”

“You bet there are. You tried to kill Brigadier Laplante.” nearly shouted Peter. A mean hook to the stomach silenced him, making Peter bend in two. The officer however interposed himself immediately.

“Easy there, mister! We will take it from here.”

The two agents backed off reluctantly after taking the cuffs off Peter, then returned to their car, which drove off shortly thereafter. The officer, a captain, helped Peter straighten up.

“Are you alright, mister?”

“I will be.” said Peter with difficulty, still getting his breath back.

“What is your name, mister?”

“Peter O’Neal, reporter at the DAILY TELEGRAPH.”

If he was curious about all this, the officer didn’t let it show, ordering his soldiers to escort Peter inside the fortress. They passed through the gate towers of both the outer and inner walls before entering a guardroom set up in the Bloody Tower, where Peter was thoroughly searched and his possessions save for his clothes taken away. The captain then led him, still escorted by the two soldiers, to the Beauchamp Tower, where they climbed the steep stone stairs to the second floor. Peter was pushed inside a small, cold and damp cell, with the iron bar door closed behind him. The officer then dismissed the two soldiers. The captain waited until the soldiers were out of sight before approaching the bars and speaking in a low voice.

“What you said earlier about Brigadier Laplante, did you mean it?”

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Peter nodded gravely, also answering in a low voice.

“Yes, I did! As far as I can figure out, Nancy Laplante was tortured by the Gestapo but wasn’t killed by them. She was sent to Colditz Castle as a prisoner of war, but our own air force bombed the place to rubbles shortly afterwards, probably to avoid the possibility that she would divulge secrets to the Germans. She apparently survived the raid and escaped but, for some reason, our government is trying to hide the whole thing. I personally believe that Laplante may have returned to England after her escape and that the M.I.5 tried to get the secrets of time travel from her, but got nowhere. As for where she is now, I frankly don’t have a clue.”

“The bloody lying bastards!” said the captain through his clenched teeth. He then looked straight into Peter’s eyes. “What you just told me cleared up a lot of questions I had in my mind for a few months. It is only just that I give you something in return. In early July, all the German women prisoners of war held here vanished without a trace overnight, including three of them being held in this tower. One of the girls told one of my soldiers just before vanishing that she was going to the future. My soldier was then knocked out from behind and couldn’t see what happened next. Please don’t tell anybody where you got that information, though.”

“Don’t worry, Captain: I will be mum on that. Thanks for the information.”

“The best way to thank me will be to publish one day your findings on Brigadier Laplante, Mister O’Neal. She is too good a soldier to let government bureaucrats and politicians fuck around with her name.”

“I will gladly do that, Captain.”

“Then, good night! If you need anything, just shout: a soldier will be posted downstairs.”

The captain then left Peter alone in his cell. The reporter looked around his small cell, which was illuminated by the light from a single ceiling lamp in the narrow passage that separated the two rows of cells on the second floor. Apart from a steel-framed bed, there was only a covered chamber pot in it. A barred window gave a view of the inner courtyard of the fortress. Resigning himself to a possibly long and uncomfortable stay in this cell, Peter took off his jacket, tie and shoes and slipped under the rough wool blanket of the bed. Tired by his rough evening, he quickly fell asleep.

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10:02 (North America Central Time)

Monday, June 18, 3386 ‘A’

Surveillance center, Time Patrol headquarters

New Lake City University campus

American Great Lakes area, Global Council

“DANA, I HAVE AN UNIDENTIFIED SPACETIME EMERGENCE OVER LONDON IN THE YEAR 1941 OF TIMELINE ‘B’!”

The excited shout from the young sensors technician watching the spacetime surveillance system’s twin giant screens attracted at a run his supervisor, while the two other technicians on duty in the surveillance center abruptly turned their heads around to look at the screens. This was the first time ever that such an emergence had been detected in either of the timelines. Dana Mulano looked at the spacetime coordinates of the emergence.

“The early morning of October 28, just over the Tower of London. The detected signature was very weak: it must be a small craft, maybe a type of time scooter.” Looking at the data pad she carried around, she then went to the nearest videophone and activated it, connecting with the readiness lounge two floors up.

“Alert level Orange! Man the standby scoutship! We have a single, weak unidentified emergence over London on October 28 of 1941 ‘B’. More data will be sent directly to the LATIN STING.”

“We are on our way.” replied after a short delay Carmen Sanchez, the pilot of the scoutship LATIN STING. She, her copilot Samuel Goldman, her sensors operator Ilsa Bauman and the assault trooper on duty, Jean Bigras, then quickly grabbed their equipment and weapons and slid down to the scooter hall using an old-fashioned fireman’s sliding pole. Once there, they took place on the duty time scooter parked in a reserved spot and jumped spacetime directly to the cargo bay of their scoutship, which was sitting on the tarmac of the New Lake City astroport, twenty kilometers away. Letting a robotic arm controlled by the ship’s computer do the job of securing the time scooter in a proper parking spot, Sanchez, Goldman and Bauman ran upstairs to the crew sphere while Bigras stayed in the cargo bay to activate the ten combat robots kept there in special alcoves. In the meantime, back in the surveillance center, Dana Mulano

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contacted Farah Tolkonen, who was in her office, and explained the situation to her. Farah couldn’t help swear in frustration.

“Damn! This has to happen when Nancy is back in 2014 ‘A’, playing the war correspondent and actress. Alright, Dana, inform Mike Crawford of this and tell him to send a second assault trooper to the LATIN STING. Make sure that Carmen Sanchez does not depart without that second trooper.”

“Got that.”

Two minutes later, Jack Crawford was rushing out of the cafeteria, where he had been having a coffee with other Time Patrol members. The crew of the scoutship ANGEL OF MERCY was close behind him.

01:36 (GMT)

Tuesday, October 28, 1941 ‘B’

Peter O’Neal’s cell, Beauchamp Tower

Tower of London

A hand firmly applying itself over his mouth awakened Peter O’Neal. He opened his eyes at once, startled, to see with panic a huge silhouette kneeling besides his bed. The stranger, a real giant, wore a sort of bulky suit and helmet which reminded him vaguely of the diving suits used by the navy, with their globular helmets and air hoses. The poor light didn’t let him detail the face of the person, though. He was then surprised to hear a female voice.

“Don’t be afraid, Mister O’Neal: I have no wish to harm you. I am now going to withdraw my hand. Please do not scream or I will have to disappear.” Peter kept quiet as the hand covering his mouth was lifted. With his eyes now getting accustomed to the low light level, he could see that the giant was a pretty woman wearing a fantastic suit worthy of the best Flash Gordon comics.

“Who…who are you?”

“My name is not important, Mister O’Neal. I came here to ask you about a certain Nancy Laplante.”

“You too?” replied Peter, unable to hide some irritation. “Everybody around here wants to know about her, starting with me. Why do you want to talk about her? To find her in order to kill her?”

“Nothing of the sort, mister. I simply want to find her.”

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“Then you are out of luck: she probably is somewhere in the future.” Farah Tolkonen frowned at that answer: how could Laplante be in the future, considering the fact that a nuclear war was going to erase most of Humanity in 45 years? Farah didn’t have time to ask another question before a stun beam struck O’Neal, knocking him unconscious. Her heart accelerating madly, she turned around quickly while going for the machine pistol in her belly pack. Two Ancestor men stood in the hallway, holding stun pistols pointed at her. Contrary to what one would expect of Ancestors from this time period, these two wore advanced uniforms and equipment, including multi-function helmets and molded body armor. The taller of the ancestors firmed his grip on his pistol.

“One more move and I will have to stun you. Identify yourself, including your spacetime of origin.”

Farah was tempted to simply jump spacetime and disappear, which she could do with a single word. That would however not help her in her quest for Nancy Laplante. Besides, given their equipment and appearances, those men may very well be the link she had been looking for. She slowly raised her hands up and got on her feet while answering the ancestor with as calm a voice as she could muster.

“I am Senior Scientist First Class Farah Tolkonen, from the Imperium Ministry of Science. I departed the Imperium on June 18 of the year 3386 of the Common Era.” As soon as she had said her name, the two men lowered their pistols, intense surprise on their faces. The taller one then approached her slowly, stopping one pace in front of her and raising a hand to caress her face.

“Farah, my God! Do you come from this timeline?”

The stunning truth then descended on Farah.

“Don’t tell me that this crazy notion of parallel, multiple timelines is actually a reality?”

“It is, Doctor Tolkonen. Our own Farah Tolkonen will be dying to meet you, I bet. By the way, why did you travel to the past like this, with the risks of changing history?” Farah took a deep breath before answering.

“Because life was becoming untenable in the Imperium and because the head of the Imperium Ministry of Security has plans to use time travel for his personal benefit, something which I refused to help him in. Where do you come from?” Jack Crawford, still digesting what the new Farah had said, pointed at his uniform’s shoulder patch.

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“We are from the Time Patrol, an organization dedicated to the protection of history from irresponsible time travel. We are based in the 34th century of a parallel timeline we call timeline ‘A’. We call this timeline you are in now timeline ‘B’.”

“Wait! Isn’t this the main timeline?”

Jack shook his head gravely, understanding the magnitude of the shock this piece of news would cause to Farah ‘B’.

“No, Doctor Tolkonen. Timeline ‘B’ was involuntarily created out of timeline ‘A’ by Nancy Laplante in 1940, when two scientists from the Global Council of the 34th century kidnapped her and dropped her in the past.”

Farah was silent for a moment, stunned by this. Finally regaining some composure, she looked down into the eyes of Jack.

“Mister, I formally request political asylum and the protection of your Time Patrol.”

“You will have our protection, Doctor. As for asylum, the High Council will have to decide on that.”

“Then I am ready to follow you, gentlemen.”

10:17 (North America Central Time)

Monday, June 18, 3386 ‘A’

Scooter hall, Time Patrol headquarters

New Lake City University campus

Farah ‘B’ looked around the scooter hall with intense curiosity once the time scooter transporting her, Jack Crawford and Jean Bigras had landed on the polished stone floor of the big room. Once they had stepped off the machine, Jack showed her a series of alcoves which contained spacesuits quite similar to Farah’s own suit. Five of the alcoves were empty.

“If you may take your suit off and get more comfortable, Doctor.” Farah complied readily enough, going to one alcove and making it lean forward against the support braces of the alcove. She then opened the rear exit hatch and deftly pulled herself out of the spacesuit, using the overhead handle bar fixed over the alcove. Jack, who was watching her every move, noticed immediately the physical differences between this Farah and Farah ‘A’. While Farah ‘A’ was a slender woman with a graceful but nearly frail body, Farah ‘B’ had the body of a strong athlete, with well-developed biceps and muscular legs. Farah ‘B’ wore a skintight royal blue uniform with red and

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white trimmings and a pair of black short boots. She also wore a leather equipment belt with a stun pistol holstered in place.

“I will have to ask you to leave your weapon inside your spacesuit, Doctor, until someone can clear you for weapon carrying here.”

“As you wish. What will we do next?”

Jack gave her a big grin.

“We go see Farah Tolkonen ‘A’. She still doesn’t know about you. We only announced by radio that we were bringing in one time traveler from timeline ‘B’.” Farah ‘B’ smiled herself, imagining the scene to come.

“Then lead on.”

Farah ‘B’ followed the two men, who had holstered their pistols, out of the scooter hall and up a staircase. The few persons they met on their way, a mix of Ancestors and of what Farah considered normal people, all stared at her with unmitigated surprise and curiosity. Farah ‘B’ was nearly enjoying herself when they arrived in front of a polished wood sliding door and Jack pressed the door buzzer. A female voice answered through an intercom.

“Come in!”

Jack opened the door, then signaled Farah ‘B’ to step in first. The Imperium scientist gingerly walked in and stopped in front of a big work desk, looking down at the stunned woman sitting behind it.

“Hello me!”

13:03 (Central Europe Time)

Friday, June 22, 3386 ‘A’

High Council chamber, Global Council government complex Zurich, Central Europe area

An excited buzz went around the High Council conference table when both Farah ‘A’ and ‘B’ were introduced in the chamber, followed by Nancy Laplante. Farah ‘B’ was wearing her Imperium uniform, contrasting with Farah ‘A’, who wore her usual civilian long dress. All three sat at the end of the table reserved for visitors and witnesses, watched by the 24 members of the High Council. Chief Administrator Kern was the first to speak, smiling to Farah ‘B’.

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“In the name of the Global Council, I would like to welcome Doctor Farah Tolkonen ‘B’ of the Imperium to this special meeting of the High Council. I hope that your stay has been an agreeable one so far, Doctor.”

“The hospitality of the Global Council has proved to be flawless up to now, Chief Administrator.” replied Farah ‘B’.

“I am pleased to hear that. Now, ladies and gentlemen of the High Council, I will ask our Farah Tolkonen to briefly relate how Doctor Tolkonen ‘B’ came to us.” Farah ‘A’ nodded her head and spoke for about three minutes, explaining how Farah ‘B’ had been detected and then intercepted in 1941 ‘B’ London. All eyes then turned back to Farah ‘B’.

“Doctor Tolkonen ‘B’,” said Boran Kern politely, “would you explain to the High Council why you felt that you had to flee from your Imperium?”

“Certainly, Chief Administrator.”

Farah ‘B’ looked around the expectant faces of the members of the council, trying to gauge them, before speaking again.

“First of, I have to emphasize strongly the following point: while the people of the Imperium and of the Global Council are physically similar and are roughly on a par technologically, our two societies are socially and politically totally different. Your Global Council is a social democracy, while the Imperium has been a functioning monarchy for fourteen centuries. The biggest difference is in the respective social context, though. You have not known war for centuries, while the central government of the Imperium has been constantly fighting armed separatist and nationalist groups and even breakaway entities since its creation. We of the Imperium are a highly militaristic society with low regard given to individual rights. Torture and the death penalty are legal instruments of the state in the Imperium, instruments which are wielded with little restraint by the Ministry of Security, the most powerful body of the Imperium government by far. A simple suspicion of treason or sedition will normally result in the accused being jailed and tortured, often to death. Such a harsh, repressive government has actually perpetuated the existence of pockets of rebellion around the Earth, with rebels vowing to fight to the death rather than submit to Imperium power. This sorry state of affair has not always been the case in the Imperium, though. The present king of the Imperium, King Stan the Sixth, is widely acknowledged to be a fair, albeit ruthless ruler, and is a direct descendant of the British royalty of the 20th century. He however does not hold the real power anymore in the Imperium: the head of the Ministry of Security, General Alan Veck,

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does. King Stan is little more than a figurehead, with a mostly administrative and ceremonial role in the government. The Ministry of Security actually controls the police, army and navy of the Imperium. It also influences the Royal Council, supposedly the seat of power of the Imperium, through bribes, blackmail and outright threats. The only things protecting the Royal Family from the Ministry of Security are the Corps of Royal Guardsmen and the popularity of the king with the population. Since weapons are easy to obtain in the Imperium for various reasons, a coup to depose the king would probably result in the mass revolt of many of the citizens of the Imperium. The Ministry of Security is not yet ready to face such a revolt, while the king is unwilling to be the cause of the bloodbath that such a revolt would cause. General Veck has however found what he thinks is a way to get rid of his opponents without causing a major rebellion: me and my time machine project. Without bragging, ladies and gentlemen, I am the sole inventor in the Imperium of the time distorter, the key element of any time machine. As soon as he heard of my project, Veck took control of it and literally forced me to work for him. Then, a month ago, the first time travel test of my experimental prototype ship proved successful and Veck immediately seized it, along with all the documentation and data needed to produce more time ships. The only reason he kept me alive was an excuse I invented about having to research the possibility of parallel timelines. Veck’s intent is to use time travel to selectively eliminate his opponents before they could grow up to adulthood and become nuisances. I finally had enough of this and decided to exile myself in the past. An ancient book about Nancy Laplante gave me an idea where to start looking for a refuge from the Imperium.”

An awful silence followed, broken after a few seconds by a question from Sten Vargas, the old Justice Administrator.

“If I understood you well, Doctor, this General Veck was ready to go back in time and kill innocent children because they would one day represent a threat to him, is that it?”

“You are correct, sir. I tried to explain to him that such actions, apart from being heinous by themselves, risked disturbing gravely the fabric of the timeline, possibly resulting in either erasing part of it or splitting it. He ignored me.”

“Doctor,” said Golen Bartok, the Global Chief of Security, “why did you accept to work for such a man in the first place? Did he pressure you in any way?” Farah ‘B’ gave him a jaundiced look.

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“Pressure me? Sir, he had me detained and briefly tortured, just to show me what I would go through if I didn’t collaborate.”

“What a barbaric way to treat people.” exclaimed Sten Vargas while horrified whispers went around the table. Golen Bartok then cut in.

“Doctor, we understand why you had to flee your Imperium but why did you go to 1941 London? That was a time of war, after all.”

“I fully realized that, sir. As I said, I was trying to find Nancy Laplante, the first ever recorded time traveler, and ask for her help. The fact that there was a war on at that time was also a factor: I thought that the Imperium would not think of searching for me there and then.”

Her last words made Bartok and a few other members of the High Council tense up.

“You mean that your Imperium will be looking for you through time?”

“Absolutely! I now represent a mortal danger to them, since I would have the opportunity to change history in the past and thus would be able to erase them and create something new which would replace the Imperium.”

“You would be ready to do that to your own civilization, Doctor?” asked hesitantly Dana Rox. Farah ‘B’ nodded her head resolutely.

“Miss, at the stage of evolution the Imperium is at in 3386 ‘B’, I would call it a cancer rather than a civilization. While there are certainly still a lot of decent people over there, the whole system is too corrupt, too uncaring and cruel to make it worth salvaging. Even if someone would eliminate the monstrosity called the Ministry of Security, it would leave plenty of very mean people around, including the various organized crime groups, crooked cops and judges and business conglomerates bent on profit by any means. Even King Stan the Sixth is no angel by any stretch of the imagination. The cancer is terminal, believe me.”

“Let’s go back to the point about the Imperium looking for you, Doctor.” Said Bartok. “Do you think that they would be able to find you?”

“I doubt it very much, sir. I started a fire in my laboratory just before I left for the past and they wouldn’t have a clue as to where to start their search for me. Besides, nobody in the Imperium, not even me until a few days ago, believe that other timelines exist. Even if they theorized about it, they would need to find the particular spacetime resonance frequency of this timeline to be able to come here. Finding the right frequency would be no small feat for the Imperium.”

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“But,” insisted Bartok, “if they were ever able to find you here, what would the Imperium do then in your opinion, Doctor?”

“They would attack you, in order to get me back.” replied without hesitation Farah ‘B’, sending a chill around the table. “They would eradicate any group or individual who knows about time travel or who could oppose them and would leave behind an occupation force in order to ensure that your society could never become a threat to the Imperium.”

Dismay on his face, Bartok angrily looked at Nancy Laplante and Farah ‘A’.

“Did you realize the threat you were creating to our society when you brought her here? I hope that you can protect us from this Imperium if they ever show up.”

“Not with our present means, Mister Bartok.” said Farah ‘A’. “According to my timeline counterpart, the Imperium navy counts a total of over 1200 warships, including 75 battleships and 153 heavy cruisers. We wouldn’t last more than a few minutes in a straight fight against such odds. As for bringing Farah ‘B’ here, we simply filled our mandate: we investigated an unidentified spacetime disturbance, found Farah ‘B’ and then accepted to give her our protection, since leaving her in 1941 would have changed drastically the history of timeline ‘B’.”

“But we could end up being invaded for this.” raged Bartok, half getting up from his seat. “You irresponsible fools could cause our doom.”

“What is the point of claiming to hold beliefs if you are not ready to risk anything for those said beliefs, Minister Bartok?” fired back Nancy. “The Global Council stood for decency, kindness and human solidarity, or so I thought. Are you going to forget all these noble words at the first possible threat that shows up and abandon a woman to face torture and death?”

Bartok then looked at Boran Kern as the members of the High Council started chattering nervously between them.

“We must find another place of refuge at once for Doctor Tolkonen ‘B’ before this Imperium starts looking for her here, Chief Administrator.” More than a few other members echoed Bartok’s line of thinking as Kern got up from his seat.

“No! Miss Laplante is right. We cannot morally put a person back in danger of death just to keep us safe. Besides, I strongly suspect that this Imperium will eventually find a way to our timeline and that it will then invade us, whether we hold Doctor

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Tolkonen ‘B’ or not. What we should do now is to discuss the various ways we could use to avoid or repel such a threat.”

“But the Time Patrol can’t protect us from the Imperium. They are the first to recognize it.”

“Not in a straight fight, I agree.” said Nancy, attracting all eyes to her. “We can however use time itself as an ally.”

“I’m all ears, Miss Laplante!” replied Boran Kern, regaining some hope.

14:25 (GMT)

Friday, June 22, 3386 ‘B’

Minister’s office, Security Ministry headquarters

London, Imperium

“Come in, Major Kossov! I have orders and a mission for you and your guards.” Major Iani Kossov walked to General Veck’s work desk, stopping two paces in front of it and saluting. Veck returned his salute and pointed a nearby chair to Kossov.

“Have a seat, Major.”

The officer from the Scientific Division of the Ministry of Security took the offered seat and tried to relax as best he could while Veck stared at him with a cold, calculating gaze. Veck then took hold of an old-style book and showed it to Kossov.

“Do you remember this book, Major?”

“Of course, General! We found it hidden in Doctor Tolkonen’s apartment when we searched it after her disappearance. A rare and probably very valuable piece of antique, actually.”

“More valuable than you think, my dear major. I think that it is the clue to where and when our traitor went after setting fire to her lab. I used the last three days to read through it carefully and to research the time period involved. This Nancy Laplante was a fascinating woman of great abilities. Did you know that an old statue of her still stands in Trafalgar Square?”

“Uh, I didn’t, General. How is she involved with Doctor Tolkonen?”

“She isn’t, at least directly. I actually believe that Doctor Tolkonen went to the past with the idea of finding her, maybe to ask for Laplante’s protection. You see, Laplante happens to be the first ever officially known time traveler in history. She originated from the year 2012 and appeared in 1940 near London. She then helped the

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British government of the time to win its war against Germany, until she was captured and officially killed by the Germans in the summer of 1941. I say officially because the author of this book makes the case that Laplante actually survived and escaped the Germans. What happens next is a bit nebulous, as the author only had rumors and second-hand stories to go by. His final conclusion is that Laplante actually returned to the future after escaping the Germans. What is especially interesting is his theory that Laplante may have abandoned the British cause after they supposedly tried to steal a time machine from her.”

“Uh, I didn’t know that they had invented the time machine as early as 2012, sir.” Veck shook his head as if Kossov had understood nothing.

“Major, please remember your history classes. The Great Nuclear Holocaust happened in 1986. Laplante could not come from the year 2012, unless she rewrote history by her actions in 1940-1941 and set the world up for the war of 1986. That war probably never happened in Laplante’s history, so I doubt that she did that on purpose. It just shows how tricky playing with history could be. It also shows how easily Doctor Tolkonen could manipulate history back in the past and change it, erasing you, me and the whole Imperium in the process if she wanted to. We thus have no choice but to try retrieving her in the past before she causes irreparable damage.”

“But…where and when will we search for her, sir? She could be about anywhere.”

“The where is actually simple, Major. She will most probably seek refuge with the only person who could have protected her in the past: The King of England. In this instance it will of course be King George the Sixth, the then King of England during the Second World War. The when is more complicated. According to this old book, Nancy Laplante was either killed or disappeared from history on or around July 1 of 1941. Since the book doesn’t say where that happened with any certainty, I doubt that Doctor Tolkonen would have jumped for that date. Her best bet would be to seek asylum at the royal palace in London and then make inquiries about Laplante. Even if she cannot find her, Tolkonen would still at least enjoy the protection of the British who, I suspect, will consider her worth easily her weight in gold and will milk her of her scientific knowledge. If I had to pick a date, I would choose mid-May of 1942, when the British and their allies were at their lowest in the war, according to the author of the book. Tolkonen would then be in position to ask the most out of the British in return for her knowledge. We will thus try to intercept her at Buckingham Palace in May of 1942. Even if she arrived in

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London earlier than that date, we will simply pressure the British into handing her back to us. This is where you and your guards come in, Major.”

10:31 (North America Central Time)

Tuesday, June 26, 3386 ‘A’

Surveillance center, Time Patrol headquarters

New Lake City University campus, American Great Lakes area Global Council

“DANA, I HAVE THREE UNIDENTIFIED SHIPS EMERGING OVER LONDON ON MAY 20 OF 1942 ‘B’!”

“Damn! It seems that all the excitement happens on my shift.” said Dana Mulano to herself as she ran to the timeline ‘B’ surveillance console. She looked at the data for a few seconds, then punched a big red button on the console. A loud alarm horn started blaring as Dana activated the station’s videophone.

“Ready lounge, this is the surveillance center: three ships have materialized over Buckingham Palace at 23:40 GMT on Wednesday, May 20 of 1942 ‘B’. One appears to be the size of a shuttle, while the two other ships are quite large.” Dana’s next call was to Farah Tolkonen ‘A’, to whom she repeated the information she had just passed to the ready lounge. Farah’s response was swift, as she expected this.

“Thanks, Dana. Tell our scoutship on alert to wait before lifting off. We will send a task force to deal with this. Advise Nancy Laplante immediately.” Closing the link with the surveillance center, Farah ‘A’ then called the office of the Global Chief Administrator in Zurich, getting a secretary to answer on the second ring.

“Global Chief Administrator’s office, may I help you?”

“Yes! This is Doctor Tolkonen, at Time Patrol headquarters. I need to speak urgently to the Chief Administrator.”

“Certainly. Please hold the line.”

“No, don’t…” said Farah urgently just as recorded music started playing on the line. A good two minutes went by before an increasingly impatient Farah got the secretary back on the videophone.

“I am sorry, Doctor, but the Chief Administrator is out of his office at the moment. Would you like to call him back later?”

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“No, miss: I need to speak to him, now! Half of our fleet is about to scramble on a combat mission and I need his authority to activate our combat robots, so I don’t care if you have to chase him all the way to the washrooms or have to page him. And please don’t put me on hold again.”

“Uh, I will see what I can do.” Replied the now rattled secretary before walking away from the videophone screen. Boran Kern appeared on the screen two minutes later, running to it.

“Doctor Tolkonen? Sorry for the delay: you actually caught me with my pants down. What is it?”

“What we believe to be three Imperium ships just emerged over London on May 20 of 1942 ‘B’. We are now scrambling six ships to intercept them but we need your release authority to activate our combat robots.”

“Let me just go to my personal computer, Doctor. 1942, you said? So they really went back to get your counterpart.”

“It appears so, sir.”

Farah then waited a few seconds while Boran Kern transferred the call to his desk videophone.

“I am activating the robots now, Doctor. You should have full control of them now.”

Farah effectively saw the activation status board of her robots switch from red to green on her desk console.

“I have, sir. Thank you! I will report back to you as soon as I have more news.”

“Then good luck to your people, Doctor.”

23:47 (GMT)

Wednesday, May 20, 1942 ‘B’

Old Nursery, 2nd floor of Buckingham Palace London, England

Eleven-year-old Margaret Windsor woke up with a startle when a large hand roughly covered her mouth. Opening her eyes, she saw a huge silhouette bending over her bed in the dark room. Besides her in the bed, she could feel Ruby MacDonald, her maid, trying to resist another attacker. The giant man standing over Margaret then spoke in a low but forceful tone.

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“Keep quiet, both of you, or we will have to play rough.”

Ruby quickly stopped moving after those words.

“That’s better! Now, identify yourselves and don’t speak loudly or you will regret it.”

“I…I’m Ruby MacDonald, maid to Princess Margaret.” Stuttered the frightened servant. Margaret didn’t feel much braver than her maid when she spoke up.

“I’m Princess Margaret. Who are you?”

“That’s none of your business for the moment, girl.” replied the giant brusquely. Margaret could now see that at least six armed giants, wearing some kind of armored suits, were in the old nursery room that had been temporarily turned into her bedroom following the destruction by a German V-2 missile of the wing of the palace which had housed her suite. The man over Margaret spoke again.

“You, the maid! You will take this note and give it to your king once we are gone. We…”

A beeping noise then interrupted the giant, who then apparently spoke in a microphone that was probably part of the helmet he wore. The man used a language which sounded a bit like English but was actually unintelligible to Margaret and Ruby.

“Major Kossov here! … What? five ships? Hell, buy us some time, we are about finished here.”

Kossov then looked down at the frightened maid and switched back to English while giving her an envelope.

“As I said, you will give this to your king once we are gone. Tell him that the life of his daughter will depend on his cooperation.”

Another giant whom Margaret had not noticed yet suddenly shouted with alarm from the window besides which he stood, partly hidden by the curtains.

“MAJOR, I SEE AT LEAST A DOZEN SILHOUETTES FLYING DOWN TOWARDS US.”

A yellow stun beam then struck the Imperium guard in the chest, knocking him unconscious. Kossov immediately stepped away from Margaret’s bed and activated the individual shield generator integrated into his body armor.

“Activate your shields! Privates Tonen and Votek, lead the way out through the hallway towards the destroyed North Wing. The rest will hold here and cover our retreat with the princess.”

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Turning sideways, so that his frontal shield would not be in the way, Kossov then grabbed the left hand of Princess Margaret and roughly pulled the young teenager out of her bed. He was forcibly dragging her towards the nursery’s door when four of his guards posted at the windows opened fire with their assault rifles. Margaret screamed in fear at the ear-splitting noise and tried to break away, but Kossov’s grip was too strong for her. The two troopers preceding Kossov and the princess rushed into the hallway and faced a British officer wearing the blue uniform of a R.A.F. group captain coming at a run. The British braked to a halt and took out his service revolver but a stun discharge from Tonen’s rifle knocked him out before he could fire. Margaret’s eyes widened in horror at that sight.

“Nooo! Not Mister Townsend!”

“He’s only knocked unconscious, girl.” replied Kossov. “Who is he anyway?”

“He’s the King’s equerry, you bastard!”

“The equerry, you say? Good! Private Votek, grab that man: we are bringing him with us.”

The big, powerful guard quickly grabbed the inert British and threw him over his left shoulder as if he weighed next to nothing. His partner, Private Rina Tonen, then shouted in alarm.

“What the… WATCH OUT!”

Kossov looked back towards the door of the nursery and felt instant fear: an impressive machine mounted on two tracks had just emerged from the room, a weapons turret mounted on its upper body now pointed at them. Tonen fired a long burst of automatic rifle fire at the machine but the bullets simply ricocheted on an invisible obstacle.

“Damn! These things have shields too.”

A bright blue-green beam of light then sizzled from the machine’s turret, hitting Tonen’s body armor at the left shoulder and causing an explosion of sparks. Tonen screamed with pain and staggered back but stayed up.

“Go now, Major! I will hold it.”

Kossov hated the idea of leaving his troopers behind like this but he had to accomplish the main goal of his mission: bring back a royal hostage to the Imperium. He thus lifted Margaret in his left arm and ran towards the demolished North wing of the palace, preceded by Private Votek, still carrying the British officer. He heard Tonen fire two more bursts before the robot’s laser sizzled again and the female guard screamed in pain. To her credit, Tonen kept firing even while down on the floor, forcing the robot into

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concentrating its attention on her. Two more laser beams burned through Tonen’s armor before she passed out from the pain of her burns. By then, Kossov and Votek had emerged in the open, on the edge of what was left of the hallway. Kossov swore at the sight of one of the two Imperium Navy destroyers which were supposed to provide protection to the prototype time ship: the eighty-meter-long ship now lay on the lawn of Green Park, smoking holes in its hull and with its crew scrambling out by a number of hatches. The prototype time ship taken from Doctor Tolkonen was still near the palace, though, resting on its landing gear and with its rear access ramp still down.

“Let’s go!” shouted Kossov, then activating his directed gravity drive and leaping in the air, flying towards the ship. Young Margaret screamed with fright while they flew six meters off the ground but Kossov ignored her until he landed on the ship’s access ramp and ran inside, where two troopers were waiting with rifles at the ready. Kossov, seeing that Votek and his prisoner were aboard as well, shouted to the pilot, visible in the forward section of the small ship.

“TAKE OFF AND JUMP BACK TO THE IMPERIUM, NOW!” The pilot hesitated and looked at him.

“But…the others, sir?”

“THEY ARE GONERS! TAKE OFF NOW!”

The pilot did not insist, grabbing his controls and lifting his ship off the ground. He jumped back to the future as soon as the ship had risen ten meters in the air. They all blew air out in relief when they saw the familiar background of 3386 ‘B’ London through the viewing screens.

“I saw the destroyer CROWN PRINCE KODOS crashed near Buckingham Palace.” said Kossov to the pilot. “What happened to the destroyer GENERAL TESSLOV?”

“It blew up high above the old London, sir. The enemy used weapons we could not detect. What happened inside the palace, sir?”

“Robots attacked us, mean machines with individual shields, lasers, stun rifles and other weapons. Only the sacrifice of Private Tonen allowed me and Private Votek to escape with our prisoners.”

The pilot then looked at Princess Margaret, cowering in a corner of the cabin.

“She’s so small and young. It feels nearly indecent to take a prisoner like her.” Kossov also looked critically at Margaret. He knew from historical data that she was not even twelve years old yet. She was also the size of an Imperium girl half her age and

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had a frail body but also an attractive face, especially with her hair, which added an exotic touch to her appearance. Kossov silently agreed with the pilot but, to her bad fortune, the girl was now a puppet in General Veck’s plans.

23:50 (GMT)

Wednesday, May 20, 1942 ‘B’

Buckingham Palace, London

England

The officer of the Royal Welsh Guards leading the charge up the staircase to the second floor swore and stopped dead in his track, crouching and pointing his pistol at the intimidating machine that had just rolled on its tracks to the top edge of the stairs.

“DON’T SHOOT! WE ARE HERE TO HELP.”

The female voice coming from the entrance of the old nursery made the officer look that way nervously. He then saw a tall woman which wore some kind of body armor and a complicated helmet over a gray uniform. The officer’s mouth opened wide with surprise.

“Brigadier Laplante? But you are supposed to be dead.”

Nancy smiled wryly and lowered her TERMINATOR assault rifle.

“A wild exaggeration, Captain. Tell your men to relax: the enemies still in the palace are either dead or taken prisoner by my people.”

“You call that steel thing a person, Brigadier?”

“No, that’s one of my combat robots. I have my own organization in the future, Captain. We tried to stop those attackers from the future but two of them managed to escape in their remaining ship with Princess Margaret and Group Captain Townsend.”

“Shit! She’s the sole remaining heir to the throne. Who are these assholes anyway?”

“They are from the Imperium, a militaristic society of the 34th century. Please advise the King that I need to speak with him urgently.”

“Right away, Brigadier.”

As the British officer ran down the stairs, leaving four soldiers standing in the staircase, Nancy went to Private Tonen, still lying unconscious in the hallway. Crouching besides the giant woman, she checked her pulse and found a strong, regular one. The last laser blast had burned through the trooper’s shield generator, so Nancy was able to remove Tonen’s body armor to check her wounds. The Imperium woman sported four laser

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wounds, deep, localized burns which were going to be very painful once she woke up. Applying her hands on the wounds of the trooper, Nancy mentally healed them in a bit over a minute. Tonen woke up just before Nancy was finishing to heal her. She looked at Nancy’s glowing hands, then into her eyes.

“What…what are you? How did you do this?”

“It’s a long story, miss. What is your name and rank?”

“Tonen, Private Rina Tonen. What do you plan to do with me now? Torture me for information?”

Nancy shook her head at Tonen’s defiant tone.

“The Time Patrol does not torture or mistreat prisoners, Private. Get up!” Seeing a pistol on Nancy’s belt, Rina tried to grab it in a flash. Nancy’s hand slapped away Rina’s hand before she grabbed the much bigger Imperium trooper by the front of her uniform belt, lifting her from the floor in a single move and slamming her effortlessly against the wall, knocking the breath out of Rina.

“Don’t try anything smart, Private Tonen. You fought bravely but you still participated in the kidnapping of a young girl who happens to be the heir to the throne of England.”

Rina looked down at Nancy with disbelief: that small woman was actually lifting her off the ground with the strength of a single arm.

“How could you be so strong? Are you a cyborg or what?”

“Call it a gift from above.” replied Nancy before letting her down and looking at the nearest robot.

“Unit 317, watch this prisoner. If she tries to escape, stun her.”

“Understood, Nancy!” answered the robot in a deep male voice which sounded fully human. Nancy then looked towards the staircase, where a dozen British soldiers were watching her and her robots, unsure what to do.

“Don’t just stand there! Sweep the palace for other giant intruders, but be careful not to mess with my own men or robots. Is the King coming?”

“I am right here, Brigadier Laplante.” said King George VI, his head emerging from the stairwell. Climbing the last steps, he approached Nancy as she knelt in deference to him.

“Please stand, Brigadier. I am the one who should bow to you to repair all the wrongs we did to you. Please tell me that Margaret is safe.” Nancy got back on her feet and slung her assault rifle, facing the anxious monarch.

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“I am afraid that she was kidnapped by those giants, Your Majesty, along with Group Captain Townsend.”

“But why? Isn’t fighting the Germans enough? Who are these giants anyway?”

“They are from a future military empire called the Imperium, Your Majesty. As for the why, I believe that I know the answer to that.”

Just then, Jean Bigras showed up with a still shaking Ruby MacDonald. The servant, still wearing only a nightgown, curtsied to the King and handed him a letter.

“I am awfully sorry that I couldn’t protect the princess, Your Majesty. One of our attackers gave me this, to be handed to you.”

The King quickly opened the envelope and extracted a sheet of paper, unfolding it and reading it twice. His face was ashen when he looked back at Nancy.

“This Imperium wants the return of a certain Doctor Farah Tolkonen, also from the Imperium, in exchange for the return of Margaret. They are going to send an emissary for our answer in two weeks. Now, why would this Doctor Tolkonen be here, Brigadier?”

“She came to 1941 to look for me and to ask for asylum from the Imperium, Your Majesty. She is presently under my protection. I am sorry that it resulted in this but I didn’t think that the Imperium would be stupid enough to pull such a stunt.”

“Talk for yourself, Laplante!” shouted Rina Tonen from a few paces away. “That traitor has to be returned to the Imperium to face her just punishment.” Both the king and Nancy looked at her with irritation.

“One day you will see your Imperium for what it is, Private: a corrupt and autocratic society ready to self-destruct. Your Majesty, they attacked you. It is thus only just that the prisoners we have be handed to British authorities. I will only ask that they be treated humanely and according to the laws and customs of war.”

“I will certainly agree with your suggestion, Brigadier. Soldiers, take the giant prisoners to the Tower of London.”

Nancy immediately spoke into her helmet microphone.

“All units, release custody of the prisoners to the British soldiers who will approach you. Otto, how is the sweep of that crashed ship going?” The voice of the Austrian came in on the radio after a second.

“We are half done, Nancy. We have 26 crewmembers in custody, including six lightly wounded, ready to be handed over to the British.”

“Excellent! KRONOS, give me a status report please.”

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“All our ships and people are accounted for, Nancy. The scoutship ANGEL OF MERCY suffered some minor damage from laser fire but is still fully operational. The GILGAMESH will tow that crashed Imperium ship back to base once it is fully swept.”

“Good! Nancy, out!”

The King was looking with intense curiosity at her when she finished speaking in her microphone.

“I don’t know for who you work right now, Brigadier, but you appear to be our only hope in this crisis. Some in the government and military view you as a traitor but know that I still have the utmost respect for you and will trust your advice.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty. I truly appreciate your trust in me. I must tell you that the members of the Time Patrol, of which I am the chief of operations, come from three different centuries and that many are Germans, in whom I have utter confidence. They, like me, now work for the good of all of Humanity and do not bear allegiance to a particular country anymore. Will you still trust us after knowing this, Your Majesty?” George the Sixth hesitated for a moment before replying with a forced smile.

“If you vouch for their loyalty, then I will trust them, Brigadier. Now, how shall we resolve this crisis and get back Margaret and Group Captain Townsend alive and well?”

“This would be best discussed with the Prime Minister, Your Majesty. Until we are able to have a meeting with him, I would ask that the palace personnel keep quiet about this whole thing: no point in spreading panic through London.”

“A sensible proposition, Brigadier. I will order the utter discretion on this and will advise the Prime Minister. What about you?”

“I will supervise the cleanup operation in the meantime. Please advise me when we will have a firm time for a meeting with the Prime Minister, Your Majesty.” The king nodded once and walked away, letting Nancy free to go check on the progress of Otto Skorzeny and his team of agents and robots. A total of 39 Imperium prisoners, including 14 wounded, were now lined up on the lawn on the north side of the palace, sitting or lying on the grass near their crashed ship. Nancy scanned visually the hulk, using the low light vision camera integrated to her helmet: it was shaped like an elongated egg with bulbous cruciform appendages and was about eighty meters long. It was well armed with what appeared to be missile launchers, gun turrets and laser batteries. Two gaping holes were visible in the rear section, where missiles had struck, letting out thick black smoke. Nancy went next to the prisoners, who were guarded by over twenty British royal guardsmen. Patricia Wilson and Sylvie Comeau were assisting

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Doctors Rebecca Milner and Keiko Miramoto in giving first aid to the wounded prisoners. The Imperium woman being treated by Keiko and Sylvie was a very frightened-looking young Eurasian beauty who had burns on her arms and hands. Somehow, Nancy felt instant sympathy towards the baby-faced woman. Nancy knelt beside her and gave her best smile.

“What is your name, miss?”

“Ship Technician First Class Tina Barat, ma’am.”

“Then, don’t be afraid, Tina. You will be treated decently, like the rest of your comrades.”

“Why did you attack us? Who are you?” asked Tina timidly.

“We are the Time Patrol, an organization dedicated to the protection of history from illegal tampering. Your attack on Buckingham Palace was placing history at a grave risk of disruption and gave us no choice but to counter you.” Otto Skorzeny joined up with Nancy then, his assault rifle still at the ready. He gave a suspicious look at the nearby British soldiers before reporting to Nancy.

“The ship has been swept, Nancy. We only found six dead crewmembers, on top of those 39 prisoners. The bodies have just been brought out.”

“Thanks! Excellent job, Otto. Regroup your team and reembark on the ANGEL OF MERCY. Tell Angie to go back to base and to have her battle damage repaired on a top priority basis.”

“Yawoll!” answered Otto out of habit, attracting black looks from the nearest British soldiers, before running towards his group of assault troopers and combat robots. Nancy got up and activated her helmet radio.

“GILGAMESH, this is Nancy. The Imperium derelict is ready for pickup. Tow it back to base and ask Farah to have a technical inspection team go through it.”

“Understood! GILGAMESH, out!”

A minute later, the huge dark mass of the GILGAMESH floated down silently from the sky, stopping to a hover above the crashed Imperium ship. That was when the British anti-aircraft defense crews protecting London reacted belatedly, directing a number of searchlights on the 300-meter-wide, saucer-shaped heavy transport ship. Nancy swore violently when a dozen anti-aircraft guns opened fire on the GILGAMESH. Thankfully, the ship was still protected by its shields and the shells exploded harmlessly away from its hull.

574

“The idiots!” raged Nancy. Turning towards the officer in charge of the British soldiers guarding the prisoners, she shouted at him.

“LIEUTENANT, GET THOSE DAMN GUNNERS TO STOP FIRING: THEY ARE SHOOTING AT FRIENDLY FORCES.”

The officer ran away towards the palace, letting Nancy wait impatiently as the GILGAMESH ignored the shelling and started lifting the Imperium ship with a tractor beam. The guns were still firing when the heavy transport ship and its load rose into the sky and disappeared in a giant flash of white light. The British guns then shifted their fire to the scoutship ANGEL OF MERCY, which was approaching the palace in order to pick up Otto Skorzeny’s group. By then, Nancy had had enough of this nonsense.

“KRONOS, this is Nancy! I want you to stun those dimwits firing at our ships right now. I don’t care if you have to stun half of London to do it. Nancy out!” One of the prisoners, an officer, laughed at her anger.

“That’s what you get for helping Ancestors, little woman.” Nancy, thoroughly pissed by now, walked quickly to the officer and grabbed him by the collar, forcing him on his feet.

“It’s Miss Laplante to you, asshole! Keep in mind that those Ancestors are the ones who will be your jailers, so don’t laugh too hard.”

Putting him down, Nancy then watched as the KRONOS methodically silenced the British guns with wide stun beams. The ANGEL OF MERCY was finally able to land and embark Skorzeny’s group, departing as soon as they were aboard. The British lieutenant ordered by Nancy to call came back at a run a minute later, an apologetic look on his face as he stopped in front of her and saluted her.

“I’m awfully sorry about this, ma’am, but the air defense command refused to believe me or my captain.”

“Don’t worry about it anymore, Lieutenant: those gunners just won a strong headache for their troubles. When will those prisoners be taken away?”

“The trucks should be here shortly, ma’am.”

“Good! Dismissed!”

Nancy next returned to her medical team, which was about finished providing first aid to the wounded prisoners, and helped them care for a prisoner with shrapnel wounds. King George the Sixth, solidly escorted by royal guardsmen, joined her there a few minutes later. Nancy immediately got up and bowed her head in respect.

“Any news from the Prime Minister, Your Majesty?”

575

The King looked embarrassed as he answered her.

“Sort of, Brigadier: the Prime Minister is in a deep slumber right now. I was made to understand that he abused the bottle a bit tonight before going to bed. Foreign Minister Eden is however on his way to the palace right now.” Nancy sighed: Winston Churchill was notorious for being a heavy drinker, albeit one with an incredible capacity to absorb alcohol. On the other hand, Anthony Eden was a senior minister with a lot of clout and a decisive personality.

“Foreign Minister Eden will do fine, Your Majesty.”

“Brigadier, I would like to speak to you in private for a few minutes.” Surprised, Nancy stared into the King’s eyes, then nodded her head once.

“As you wish, Your Majesty.”

Both walked away from the prisoners and their guards, with the king’s escort keeping a respectful distance. The King stopped besides a tree and faced Nancy, speaking in a low voice.

“Brigadier, I am fully aware of the accusations of treason made against you and of you wounding the head of M.I.5 to free a person from the future illegally held and abused. I know also that you gave up your British medals. I would like you to accept them back.”

“For what purpose, Your Majesty?” replied Nancy softly, unwilling to be rough with this most honest and decent monarch. “I consider myself neutral in this war and feel no particular loyalty towards this British government, which sacrificed me and betrayed my trust. My duty is now to history and its protection. Be sure however that I will do my utmost to save your daughter and Group Captain Townsend.”

“I know, Brigadier. That is precisely why I want you to take back your medals as one of the bravest soldiers the British Empire ever had. If you are to risk your life to save Margaret, then I want you to do it as the heroine you are to my family and me. I have already signed a secret declaration of royal pardon for you a few months ago, even though the Prime Minister disagreed with it.”

Touched more than she wanted to show, Nancy hesitated for a long moment, conflicting emotions running through her. She finally looked back at the King.

“Your Majesty, you must understand that I am no longer a soldier of your empire. Know also that some of the people who will assist me on this rescue mission are ex-German soldiers. How is the British cabinet going to react to that?” It was the King’s turn to be surprised and hesitant.

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“Uh, I frankly don’t know, Brigadier. I suppose that some may use that as further proof that you are a traitor.”

“I thought so, Your Majesty. As long as the British government will not be able to accept all my people as they are, then I see no point in taking back my British medals. The best for the moment would be to keep this whole thing under wraps, let my Time Patrol get Princess Margaret and Group Captain Townsend back and part with a handshake afterwards.”

The King, a bit disappointed, chose to change the subject of the conversation.

“And how do you propose to get Margaret back, Brigadier?”

“Let’s wait for Mister Eden before we talk about that, Your Majesty.” Nancy’s expression then changed and she looked at the British monarch with something akin to embarrassment.

‘’Uh, Your Majesty, while we are alone together right now, I do have a confidence to tell you. It is about one of my combat pilots.’’

King George VI looked confused by that, not seeing why she was telling him about a particular pilot.

‘’What about him, Brigadier?’’

‘’Well, it’s a her, Your Majesty. I saved her from certain death a year ago, then took her in my Time Patrol. You know her well, I believe…’’