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"And I have worked with Clive Crawford for over a decade. Who is the wiser of us?"
Anderson stared at me for a long, drawn-out moment. Finally, he shifted in his seat, the first to look away. Adjusting his suit cuffs, he said, "It doesn't matter. I'm here now and I'm not going to fail."
I wasn't sure if he was saying that for my benefit or his.
"I've already outlined the promotional video idea to the PM and received the go-ahead," he declared. "The first order came in this morning. We're making money already. With this Orion and the Temporal Tourism idea, we'll make even more. You and whoever is assigned as your Intern will operate the Vehicle, the customer will pay handsomely, and an overseer will observe and offer protection where required. As no one will be exiting the module at any time, I'm quite certain there will be no need for security at all. But we will be prepared, in any case. After all, preparation is the key to success."
I wasn't so sure. You couldn't prepare for Sergei Ivanov. The man was too clever, too cunning, too eager for vengeance regardless of who or what he hurt. And Time should never be discounted, either. Time had its own agenda, and a set of rules it liked to enforce with vigour.
The rule-breaker and the rule-maker were going to clash one day, and if we weren't ready to act, preparations be damned, then there would be nothing left to prepare for. Anderson had no idea what he was dealing with here.
But I didn't mention any of that. I had to get one thing straight, because doing what I thought we'd have to do to counter Sergei's next move, with someone like Jessica Harding or Mikaela Pratt as my Intern was not going to cut it. Both were fine Interns in their own way, but I needed someone at my back who wouldn't question my actions, who wouldn't hesitate to do what had to be done, regardless of the cost.
Rafe, of all people, understood what I was trying to do. He'd been stranded in an Orion, flying through Time at its beck and call for six months, unable to get off the merry-go-round and stop the spinning. And then when I rescued him, we promptly got stranded in an alternate universe together for just about as long.
Time was bent out of shape, possibly already broken. It was acting out of sorts and the more Sergei did to upset it, the more it would react in ways we could not predict and possibly not even thwart. We were riding a razor's edge, and this man before me was blind to the possibilities, swollen with his assumed power, and being controlled by a puppet master whose goals I did not yet understand.
What was the PM up to? He couldn't possibly want to destroy Time, so it was something else. But what?
I pushed that thought aside for now. I had to get one thing set in stone or my job would be damn near impossible to do and, in the light of who could be assigned as my Intern any given day, downright uncomfortable.
"At the time, Clive set the parameters for the biometric lock," I said, "Dr Hoffman was my assigned Intern."
"Not Harding?" Evans asked. "You flew with her last, correct?"
"I did, but that was because Rafe was in the sickbay. It was a temporary assignment."
"So, Hoffman has to fly with you in case you're unable to operate the module?"
"Correct."
Anderson stared at me and then nodded his head. "So be it," he said. "Both of you should be prepared for multiple flights per day. We will not be cutting our profit due to fatigue or some such malady. You will structure your downtime accordingly and be prepared to fly on a schedule of my making. You will not waste time flying anywhere else or on anything else other than this Vehicle. Is that understood?"
There were rules we as flight crew had to follow. Rules set out by a government committee who'd assessed these things right at the beginning when Clive set up RATS. Limits to the number of hours spent in an MPCV without a break. Limits to the number of times we visited a particular time and location. Limits that were designed to protect Time — and us as a secondary concern — from breaking.
I wasn't sure Anderson would be aware of them or if he was, he'd care overly much.
But all I did was nod my head, which in turn had Rafe nodding his as well.
"Very good," Anderson said, clapping his hands together as if in celebration of our ready acquiescence. "Let's complete this test flight so I can include it in my report to the PM. By this time tomorrow, if all goes according to plan, we could be advertising for our first customers. The day after that, we could be flying, if not earlier."
I offered a smile and turned to my console, checking the coordinates. I'd tweaked them, but on this test flight, I was not going to be pushing our luck. We'd fly, we'd observe the fireworks, we'd not step out of the Vehicle for any reason, nor even suggest it, and then we'd return our cargo to RATS.
Time was marching on, with or without us. I just hoped I'd be able to stop Sergei from destroying Time once and for all.
"I must say," Anderson announced from over my shoulder, "this change of heart of yours, Dr Evans, is most welcome."
"I can read the writing on the wall as well as the next man," I offered.
"We could make a lot of money, you and I."
"And RATS," I added.
"And the Academy, of course. But this isourbaby; I'll make sure the Prime Minister is aware of that fact. We could be the reason RATS stays open."
I was quite sure that Anderson would claim all the credit for himself, just as I was sure he'd already claimed all the credit for Miss Groves's idea, as well. I didn't want the notoriety. In fact, I thought perhaps staying under the Prime Minister's radar right now was not a bad thing at all.
In a way, I pitied Anderson, but only ever so briefly. The manhadstormed into our domain and acted like a petulant baboon, throwing his weight around and damn near destroying everything. But I reminded myself that he was also blind to certain facts, inexperienced as far as Time went and, I was certain, about to take the fall for something the PM had planned.
Whether we at RATS would survive that or not, I wasn't sure. I wasn't even entirely sure if we'd survive Mr Anderson.
And that didn't take into account our chances of surviving Sergei Ivanov, as well.
