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Without the Novitiates, our numbers would be slim. As it currently stood, we had more on our side than Anderson did. I wasn't sure that using those numbers in that fashion was the way to go. First, we'd try things the PM's way. That is to say, the legal way.
Then if that didn't work, we'd have to get dirty. Time required it. Saving Time was never for the faint of heart, after all.
I rather thought, for a moment there, that Mimi had outplayed my usefulness, but there was one area I believed we could improve on. Not just for commercialisation purposes, but because we needed to be flying a hell of a lot more often than we currently were. If we were flying, then we were out there, closer to Sergei, within reaching distance of any rip he caused, and potentially in a position to actually stop him. In addition, the planned flights could also be to the locations and times we had lost our Interns. Kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.
First, though, I needed to bring something to the table that didn't encroach on Anderson's current financial commitment. I didn't believe for one moment that he'd accept any suggestion I could make in this area if it were to cost one of the two only Orions — almost three now, I noted — we had left.
It took some hunting through the system, and a lot more painstaking sifting through archived security footage of Clive's movements, but I eventually found it. Dr Crawford's Orion, which really couldn't be called an Orion in comparison to today's Orions. Although, for all intents and purposes, was the original Orion. The one that started it all.
Cosmonaut Sergei Anton Ivanov's Orion capsule that transported him forward through history on a return trip from the International Space Station of his time. The Orion all other Orions were based on. The first time travelling capsule that despite its historical significance was superfluous to our needs, as we had mastered — and damn near perfected — the art of time travel many decades ago now.
Clive had used this forgotten part of RATS' history to secretly return to his own time and visit his family for many years now. Whether the Original Orion had once been known to all at RATS and Clive had simply removed any reference to it, or whether it had always been a secret, the Chief Surgeon protected, was unknown. What I did know was Anderson was not aware of it and had not accounted for it in his reports to Parliament or his so far inadequate suggestions to commercialise RATS.
It was officially off the books. I could keep it that way and use it as a failsafe device. A way to fly without Anderson being any the wiser. It was tempting. Dear God, it was tempting. An ace up the sleeve, that could mean the difference between beating Sergei or failing to save Time. A way to retrieve Clive without Parliament's notice. My friend, who I dearly wished was here to help bear the weight of responsibility I could feel on my tired shoulders.
In the end, I decided the Original Orion was better used as a hook to catch the fish I needed catching. Namely, Anderson, the PM, and any potential, rich, civilian time travellers.
Anderson wanted to commercialise RATS at the cost of maintaining Time. My proposal would do the first — but hopefully not the second — without risking our working Vehicles. We were hobbled as it was, and thankfully Anderson was aware of that fact. That was why he hadn't made any proposals himself yet. There had been threats from the PM, however. Threats to throw the bidding open to each and every backyard enthusiast or inventor of time travel modules.
I had to hope I was ahead of the game on that front. By having a Vehicle already, and not just any Vehicle but such a historically important one, I was beating every other Tom, Dick and Harry to the punch. And impressing Anderson with my willingness to comply while I was at it.
There was just one more thing to do. It wasn't hard, Clive had left a trail he had to have been unaware of. On second thoughts, maybe he hadn't been so unaware of it. I found evidence he'd tweaked a few things in the system before he'd left. Things that only I would know to look for.
The Original Orion had been locked to Clive's signature. Only he could have flown it. A rather clever caveat and safety device. With a push of a key, I added my biometrics to his, intending to add Mimi's as well. But before I could do that, the Original Orion's computer system locked me and everyone else out of the access protocols.
I tried for several long minutes to circumvent it. But Clive was not a man easily dissuaded from a course once he decided it. I had a feeling, not just anyone's biometrics could have been added either. I wondered why he hadn't simply added mine before he was removed from RATS. Maybe, he'd intended to. Maybe, he'd run out of time.
Like we were all running out of time, I thought grimly.
With nothing else for it, I closed that programme down, checked it was well hidden — it was — and then made sure I was presentable. I'd been locked in my room for more days than I now cared to count. The food Mimi and Bryan had given me had helped clear my head as much as the med-device. I was now certain, Anderson had been sedating me to a degree through my prepared meals.
I hadn't eaten one since Mimi visited me and felt more clearheaded than I had for some time. A chill ran down my spine at the knowledge the Chief Overseer would use such underhanded and illegal tactics. I needed to remember Anderson was not a man to be underestimated at any cost.
That, maybe, neither was the Prime Minister. A thought that truly concerned me; for the future of our country, RATS, and Time.
With nothing left to do but actually do it, I opened the communications system on my console and pinged Anderson's tablet. I overrode all security protocols, showing my hand but also forcing Anderson to confront me. Otherwise, I was fairly sure, he would have ignored the request with a simple swipe of his hand.
Instead, when the chime went off, alerting him to a communication request through the tablet he constantly had with him, he was faced with a live image of me on the screen and not a text box with a Y/N actionable question.
Anderson blinked down at the camera lens on his tablet; his eyes wide and his lips parted in surprise. The surprise wouldn't last long.
"Hello, Mr Anderson," I said. "It's time we had a talk."
