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9
You Sure Do Play Hard To Get, Princess
Mimi
Theyweren'tspeakingRussianwhen we landed at RATS. But there was something that felt different to me when we exited the Orion. I couldn't put my finger on it, but one look at Bryan and I knew he felt it, too.
Sergei had got something in 1958, and that something was rewriting our time.
Black stepped down from the Vehicle with all the pomp and circumstance of a returning conquering king. He straightened the cuffs on his suit jacket and looked around the hangar to make sure everyone was watching him, at a guess, and then turned to make sure Grumpy got himself extricated from the Vehicle.
Security Idiot in tow, Black turned his attention back to Fawkes and me.
"That was not a smooth flight," he announced a little too loudly. "You refused to follow orders. The touchdown left a lot to be desired. And then you risked Time itself by allowing the rip to expand to almost breaking. If you are any indication of how RATS has been operating, then I fear for this establishment. I shall make my findings known to Mr Anderson, who in turn shall inform the Prime Minister. Expect a demerit of some description to be attached to your personnel jackets. The punishment is likely to be suspension."
Fawkes stared at Black for a moment longer and then turned on his heel and gave him his back. I stood there for only a few seconds more and then spun to catch up with my Surgeon.
Bryan was fuming and the only good thing was he'd taken himself out of the immediate vicinity of Mr Black. Despite his heavily armed security, I had feared for Black's life for a moment there.
Dean Jordan peeled away from the shadows and came up to our sides.
"Bad flight, then?" he asked.
Fawkes grunted.
"Bad supervision," I said.
"Ah," my friend replied, non-committally.
"Has something changed here?" I asked.
"What do you mean, Mouse?"
I shrugged. "It feels different."
"In what way?"
"I don't know. That's why I asked, Dean."
"He can't feel it," Fawkes said. "Whatever's happened has happened to him, as well. This time has changed."
And we weren't in it when it did.
"Crap," I muttered.
"Get used to it, princess. This'll get a whole lot worse before it gets any better."
"I don't know what you guys are talkin' about," Dean said. "But I don't like the sound of it at all. What's changed?"
We came to the exit to the hangar and without warning, a SWAT Idiot stepped through the doorway, ugly black gun resting in his arms, the obligatory scowl on his face.
"Talk to you later, Dean," I quickly said. "Gotta get to Dispatch."
"Right," Dean said, looking at me strangely.
I ducked left and Fawkes ducked right, and somehow we made it past the gatekeeper and into the corridor. The Idiot, Grumpy 4.0, I believe, thankfully didn't follow us. For the time being, we were alone, but probably not unwatched in the hallway.
"It's making my skin itch," I said, scratching at what I hoped was an imaginary tickle on my arm.
