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"Bloody fucking bollocks," I muttered, staring around at the mayhem inside the hangar as the Technicians prepared for an Emergency Return.
"This could get ugly, Jack," Rafe told me.
He had no idea just how ugly things could get. We had to get Clive back. Yes, he'd been returning to his time to appease Time itself on a regular basis. But that didn't mean Time didn't want him here as well. Time just wanted him in our timeandin his. I didn't know why. It probably wasn't important in the scheme of things. Time worked to its own agenda. But Time had interfered once in bringing us Clive. What would it do if we ignored its wishes?
I didn't think any of us wanted to find out.
Time did things for a reason. To correct an error. To balance something that only Time knew needed balancing. To seal tears and smooth waves. No one who studied Time had been able to ascertain what exactly Time reacted to. We knew the biggies, of course. Major changes to history that affected the future. People and objects out of time when Time did not want them to be. Duplicates in a universe. The big things that could blow Time apart.
We'd not had a Time Corrected Event in so long that I'd forgotten how chilling Time could be when roused from its stupor. This Emergency Return was not going to be the standard clusterfuck of an Emergency Return.
It was going to be deadly.
"Clear the hangar," I said, and then louder, once I'd found my voice. "Clear the hangar! All non-essential personnel out of the hangar right now!"
No one moved.
"You heard the man!" Rafe shouted. "Clear the bloody hangar, right now, you dim-witted cabbage-bashers!"
"What is it?" Cathcart shouted from across the hangar. "We've had Emergency Returns before, Jack. We know what to do."
"This is a Time Corrected Emergency Return, Simon!" I shouted back. "This could get deadly. Clear the hangar of as many people as you can and do it quickly."
"You heard him!" Cathcart bellowed at his Technicians. "Everyone out! Just Richardson and Bracanov stay to help me. Everyone else, get the fuck out and get the fuck out right now!"
Technicians scattered. The sound of tools being dropped and booted feet pounding on the concrete floor echoed through the space. It was always surprising at times like this to note how many Technicians we actually had. It took a good two minutes for the hangar to evacuate. The alarm still blared overhead, almost sounding more persistent now. The empty space in the centre of the open area seemed much larger than we needed, with no one in it.
I turned to Rafe at my side. "You should get out while you can, too, Rafe."
"Nah-uh, Jack. I'm staying."
I shook my head, placed my hand on his shoulder and said, "Orion 2b may not survive this. Take Orion 0 and shift planes, at the very least. Make it safe and watch from there."
Rafe let out a breath of air, knowing I was right. "I'll come back as soon as it's over or I think you need me," he insisted.
I nodded my head and then he was gone, boarding Orion 0, and in seconds, winking out of sight.
"Who took Orion 0?" Anderson yelled over the intercom.
I didn't bother answering him, just took myself out of the landing zone and prepared to watch Mimi's MPCV crash land in front of me.
I didn't have long to wait. We'd cleared the hangar just in time. With an ear-piercing wail from the alarm system, a screech of metal on metal and the boom of the sound barrier breaking, a burnt to a crisp Multi-Purpose Crew Vehicle smashed through the far wall of the hangar and skidded across the concrete. Sparks flew and flames licked its side, liquid oxygen ignited and caused mini-explosions all around the battered and dented module as it careened from one side of the hangar all the way across to the other side, threatening to smash its way through to the heart of Shadowship.
The Techies had cleared the space well, but items were caught up on the edges of the hangar, and debris rained down in a tail the size of a tsunami wave behind the module. Little pockets of fire blazed here and there in its wake. A ringing sounded up in my ears, so abused were the eardrums. Smoke obscured everything. The sprinkler system clicked on and water and suppressant foam rained down, snuffing out the fires and shrouding all vision. Ozone wafted on the air and for a brief moment, I could have sworn I saw stars.
Then an all-encompassing silence engulfed us, chills running up and down my spine. Thetick-tick-tickof a cooling module reached me in the aftermath, my heart sounding larger than life inside my head, my pulse thundering, my mouth dry.
I took a step, and then another and another and another, and soon I was running full out toward the Orion. I noticed Cathcart doing the same and Sanders, Head of Security, right behind him. There might have been one of Anderson's SWAT guards, but it was RATS that were the first to run to their fellow colleagues' aid.
Cathcart had donned thick gloves, so he was the one to attempt to open the hatch. Sanders and his men surrounded him in a semi-circle, rifles raised toward the Vehicle. I was momentarily pleased to see they'd managed to get them out of the locked armoury. But then, not much could get in the way of Dave Sanders doing his job and certainly not an upstart politician's lackey with delusions of grandeur. From the moment Anderson disarmed his men, Sanders would have made sure that they could rearm when needed.
And they were needed now. He'd shown his hand, but I couldn't have been more thankful for his diligence. There would be consequences for Sanders when this was over, but for now, we had the appropriate backup.
Muttering and cursing to himself, Cathcart struggled with the wheel on the hatch. It was iced closed, as if it had spent more time in space than usual. It's what we assumed happened when we surfed Time's waves. We entered space itself, the MPCV designed for such rigours. But usually, that time in space was brief. A moment of weightlessness and then bam! Back down to Earth again at great speed and with tremendous g-forces.
This time, however, whatever Time had done had caused the module to spend longer in space than usual. Cathcart worked diligently, getting one of his Technicians to assist him, handing him devices and tools as needed. After several heart-palpitating minutes, the wheel finally began to turn.
Ice cracked away as it moved, centimetre by centimetre. It rained down on the floor of the hangar, starting to melt as soon as it hit the overheated concrete. By the time Cathcart got the wheel all the way turned, there was a puddle of water at his feet.
