AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I was wearing my flight suit. International orange overalls are never flattering and certainly don't blend into most times or locations. But this trip was not for historical purposes, and there was no rip here that needed mending. Maybe I'd create one by not wearing contemporary clothing. But I doubted it.
A part of me was aware of the fact that I seemed to be operating on gut instinct. That was not a normal state of being for me. I was a scientist first, much like Mimi. I had spent years studying Time and time travel, and never once had I simply acted before checking the rules and analysing the data. But knowing I was acting out of sorts did not stop me from doing so.
The more I thought about it, the more I believed Time was directing me.
"You better know what you're doing, old chap," I told it.
The wheel turned smoothly on the Orion, the hatch opened without making a sound. Outside, I felt the slight chill of a spring afternoon. I scented the rosebuds nearby, the multitude of flowers in the overgrown garden. I looked down at the ground where the Orion had landed. There was a concrete pad exactly the right size to fit the Vehicle. This was Clive's personal landing pad. Hidden from sight and left unruly, so as not to attract nosy visitors' attention.
I stepped down into a different time than my own.
I noted the power box off to the side. The curled up power cord hanging beside it that would connect to the Orion and recharge the Vehicle. A liquid oxygen tank was half-buried by rambling roses. A small, overgrown path led away from the landing pad. I couldn't see where it would emerge, so I proceeded with caution.
The sun was lowering in the sky. It had clearly been a beautiful day. There wasn't a cloud overhead that I could see from my admittedly poor vantage point. The trees and vines above my head provided a canopy of sorts. The scents of damp leaves underfoot reached my nose.
I stepped out onto a well-manicured lawn. Some distance away stood a stately home. Several rooms, I should think. But the age was difficult to guess at. More than a century, this time. Less than two. It had been renovated at some stage and sported all the modern amenities one would want in their home in these climes. I noted air conditioning base units pressed up against well-painted external walls, mirrored glass in the windows with a telltale triple-glazing effect, and multiple security cameras. The lawn had a sprinkler system, currently not working. The hedges were well-trimmed, the pathways clear of leaves and general garden detritus.
Two figures stood on what had to be the sweeping rear steps to the home. An outdoor table and chairs set stood to one side of them. A hooded barbecue off to the other. Two lounge chairs were set apart, a small table between them. A gated pool just off to the side of the recliners.
I started over the lawn toward them. I could see Clive holding his walking stick in one hand, leaning on it slightly. His grey hair stood out against the darker colour of the house. A colour that was too modern for the age of the building. But not too modern for my time.
My eyes trailed over my old mentor and then skipped across the space between the men. The man standing beside Clive wore army fatigues and was also well-armed. At first, I thought him a personal guard, a mercenary of the time Clive had hired for protection. And then I noted the similarity between father and son.
This was Clive's boy, then. About my age, tall, well built, and with a blank facade. He neither looked uninviting nor welcoming. He simply stood at parade rest and waited.
I stopped several feet away. They stood slighter higher than I was on the lowest tread to the steps, but I'd never been intimated by such measures. Clive knew that and smiled at me.
"Jack Evans," he said. "Right on time."
"I can't take any credit for that," I said. "You locked in the coordinates?"
"Of course, I did. How long have I been gone from RATS?"
"Just over a week."
"You took your time, son."
"You hid the Orion well."
"No, I didn't. Anderson's been playing silly buggers, hasn't he?" He paused for effect. "How bad is it?"
"Sergei is dead."
He looked at me and said nothing. It wasn't the reaction I had expected.
"Mimi shot him." Still nothing. "Anderson had her sent back."
"Ah," he said, and then no more. He was holding out on me. Typical Clive Crawford.
"I'm here to take you back."
"Of course you are," he said. "How's the staff?"
"Under house arrest."
He chuckled. "Has Anderson declared himself Director of RATS yet?"
"How did you know?"
