NationStates Jolt Archive

A figure dived into a side alley to catch its breath as 4 men ran past the entrance. Around him, the hunt was going on, and he was the hunted. After a few minutes, he stood up again, and drew the silenced pistol that had been his downfall. How could he have had the nerve to keep it on him when he entered his mark's apartment, and gone through the hidden scanner? And with the government attempting to take out the remnants of the AUM, he had been pursued by a nearby unit of Black Guardsmen.

He peered out into the street, puddles of filthy orange light pooling around parked cars and piles of litter. No figures were crossing them, so he decided to make a run for it. He sprinted across the open street, and into the shadow of a van, covered in Fegosian pictograms. That was when he heard the footsteps coming down the street, echoing in the deserted street. From down by the van, he could make out 4 pairs of black boots, polished to perfection. These melted into black trousers, and then presumably into a black shirt, black balaclava, black goggles and a black helmet. Armoured, each figure would be holding a black gun with a belt-full of black implements. The only thing each would be carrying that wouldn't be black would be their regimental insignia, rank and campaign insignia , in the orange of a burning city.

The four men spread out across the street, and began patrolling in a straight line. The criminal decided to take a chance, and tested the door handle on the van. It was very definitely locked. Shame there wasn't his normal skeleton key nearby: a brick. The nearest man was now too close for comfort, and a cloud of condensed could be seen from down where he was. He lay prone, before wriggling underneath the van. Here, he could hide and stay unnoticed until they had gone, then steal some sort of vehicle to get him out of the city.

He held his breath as the soldier walked past, and then almost swore as the soldier stopped. What had given him away? Above him, a susurration of whispers ensued as the soldiers gathered around. Any moment, they would drop a gas grenade and leave him to crawl out, shooting him as soon as he left the stifling zone. But then, the soldiers moved on. Amazingly, the feet began to move again. When he judged they were far away, he stuck his head out to check. The four soldiers were there, all with their weapons pointed at him.

"Well, I have to hand it to you guys. I didn't honestly think you had IF goggles now."

He spoke to the silent faces.

"Well, aren't you supposed to shoot me or beat my head in or something."

He looked up to see the butt of a rifle descending towards his face.

"Finall..."

He woke up to see white. Now that was not a good thing. Was he dead, or was this oppressive light more physical?

He lifted up his head, and found himself to be in a padded cell, pure white except for the silver door. A bright white panel in the ceiling of the room bathed the entire cell in a harsh artificial radiance, and was the only other object of interest in the entire cell. Had the justice service decided to revamp all their holding cells like this? Or was this something else?

He stood up, and found himself clad in his clothes still. He searched through his pockets, and found all his personal items on him still. Except for his weapons. They had been removed. Even the knife blade in his right shoe. So they had had some sort of revamp. He pulled out a small tin of mints, and began sucking on one. The poison pills mixed amongst them had been removed. It was always depressing to go up against an enemy more intelligent than him, and this one took the biscuit. So time to try and find a way out.

He padded over to the silver door, a large panel of reflected white light that sunk into the padded walls. It appeared to have no form of opening or closing mechanism, or any sort of hatches for food. What it did have was an oppressive feeling about it, a subconscious feeling of unease. This was confirmed when he touched it with an outstretched digit, receiving the sledgehammer blow of an electric shock. So no way out that way. He would have to whittle away the time wallowing in self pity, or cycling through his defence and answers to questions that they would present him with. As well as asking what the hell was going on.
_________________________________________________

In another room, a black suited man sat regarding a bank of screens on the wall, each showing a white cell with somebody inside it, or constantly changing details relating to biometrics and details. His focus of interest was on the figure in Cell #42. He swung a glass keyboard towards him, and began cycling through the subject's details. The list of crimes was particularly impressive, showing him as the person they had been looking for. And the punishment that had been forwarded by the Justice Ministry was the death penalty. Exactly the sort of person that they had been looking for.

He spoke, apparently to nobody, still looking at the criminal's details.

"Bring me forms #MSP2C-01, MSPC2C-03 and MSS-22DPA. And send two guards to Cell #42"

A few seconds later, a cylinder shot into the pneumatic receptacle on the wall side. He walked over, opened it with his thumbprint, and pulled out three thick sheets of paper. Each was stamped in the top right corner with a large golden insignia, a complicated sprawl of Fegosian pictograms assuring all that the document was authentic and belonged to the Ministry of Secrets. Along with them was a fountain pen ink cartridge, stamped with the same insignia and containing a strange black fluid.

He inserted it into his pen, before beginning to write on each form. After 10 minutes, he rolled up the completed forms into the cylinder they had been sent in, and used a touch panel to program its destination as the document interchange bureau. There was a click as he sealed the receptacle door, before a quiet hum when he hit the send button.

Now to brief the subject. If the forms were verified by the Minister for Secrets, he would be able to solve a problem that had been pestering him for a few months now.

He was starting to get tired of white. It appeared now that the only colour in this place was white. After being marched out of his white cell by two peculiar soldiers, he had been dragged down a glaringly white corridor, before being led into a white room. At least in here, the colours weren't as white. There was a black desk, for a start. There were two black chairs. And the man waiting in one of the chairs for him was dark-skinned, wearing a black suit.
"Good evening. As you are aware, I am here to discuss your future."

He hefted a large wad of papers onto the table, held together with a metal spine. The top page had a picture of him, as well as a list of details.
"A hitman, aren't you? Dishonourably discharged from the military after desertion, along with 120 lashes, you fell in with the AUM, who had need for your considerable talents. You go by the name of Yuri, yet with at least 30 aliases, I think you succeeded in hiding your true name from the authorities, Andrew Smith."

A cold shiver shot down the hitman's spine. How did these people know such things?
"I want to call my lawyer."

"I want to propose to you a deal, Andrew. One that will mean that all this disappears. You will have never existed, and you will not be sent through the legal system that ensures you will die a painful death for your crimes. I think that this is rather attractive for a man in your situation."
"And the catch?" Andrew replied, suspicious.
"You lend your services to Project 2 of the Ministry of Secrets. Otherwise known as the Exile Project. It will involve a risk of death, as well as much hard work, yet will allow you to visit many wonderful places and meet many wonderful people."
"Before killing them?"
"In some cases, yes. Do you accept my proposal?"

Andrew was silent for a moment, pondering this strange turn of events.
"Yes. I think we have a deal."
"Excellent! If you would like to come this way, I will take you to your new manager."

The Project Head stood up, and escorted Andrew from the room. They passed the two guards again, who trailed them through the maze of corridors. Andrew looked back, and noticed again the strangeness of these two men. Both were looking at him as if he weren't there, and did not blink once. Their skin was awfully dry, and their limbs were augmented with strange metallic projections.
"What is up with those two guys?"
"They aren't humans. They are a prototype of the new Sol'dai XVI drone, which use human tissue cultures to disguise them. Don't think you can beat them though. They can sprint at 50 km/h for hours on end, and those arms could easily crack your skull open, even without their retractable blades. They are what we have to ensure security in the facility."

They finally reached the end of the route, at an unremarkable grey door labelled "Project 2".

"Well, go on in. They're waiting for you."

Andrew twisted the handle, before nudging the door gently open. What greeted him was a sight that made it so much worth coming here.

"Oh... my... god..."

"This is where you will be working now, Andrew. Welcome to the Network Hub of the Portal system."

In front of Andrew, a long steel gantry stretched into the distance. Spaced at 20m intervals were glowing frames, each containing a flickering image of a different place. Below and above him were many more levels of portals, each surrounded by identical metal frames and thick bundles of cables. The atmosphere was electric, charged with energy, and from all sides piled in an oppressive hum.
At the end of the gantry, he could just make out a door set in the wall.

"I will leave you now. If you go to the office there, the head of the Chronoguard will fill you in on your mission."

The door shut behind him as Andrew slowly made his way along the metal gantry. He stopped at every portal, looking through at the flickering scenery on the other side. He could even see people in some, strolling about in strange clothes in strange places. So, these portals led to different times? And different places obviously. How had this been kept a secret? Surely someone would have noticed such a thing as this in the middle of Alfegos?

He entered the office, his head full of questions, and knocked on the door marked "The Chronoguard". Inside, a muscular blonde man was busy reviewing CCTV footage, from somewhere in Polinapolis.
"Greetings. I am Trent Bjornsson the head of the chronoguard and one of 8 members. You must be full of questions, so we'll go to the canteen and get a coffee, and we can discuss it there."

Andrew kept quiet as he walked past desk after desk, each stacked high with strange devices or mountains of paperwork. Finally, he entered a much lighter place, and saw through a skylight the sun beating down. It was more colourful here, the walls painted bright orange and decorated with photographs and pictures. A large table ran down the centre of the room, with 4 men and 3 women sitting at it reading magazines or tapping at Tablet PCs while sipping coffee and munching on food.

"This is my team. The guy on the end's Ryan, our transport guy. Alan and Joanne deal with the technical stuff and the equipment, and Dave here is our Public Liasons Officer. He's the one who cleans up after us. Boris deals with the historical aspects. These two young women, Alice and Christine, are former aeromarines, and are our two main guns. However, you are the first assassin we have had, and we definitely need you, after that affair with the Prevanians...
"Don't go there." Dave had spoken up for the others, who had all become just that little bit more aggressive in body language.

"Alright, alright. I need to get back to the footage, so we can see exactly when the anomaly occurred."

Trent walked from the room, and Andrew took a seat next to Ryan.
"They say you're from the AUM. Death sentence. I won't press you on it, but I can guarantee that nobody here will trust you for at least a month."
"I didn't exactly want to be here at all. I was forced into whatever this is...what is this?"
"It's coffee. Quite nice."
"Not that you muppet! What is this whole outfit about? What have I been forced into?"

There was silence for a moment, before one of the women spoke up.

"This is the Chronoguard. We are a special government organisation set up after the discovery of the Xi+ particle and its effects, to protect history."
"What from?"
"Vandals. Terrorists. Criminals. We are the only thing that stops people from going back in time and changing history. If we weren't here, some terrorist organisation would have gone back and killed off some ape, and as a result at this end the world's population would drop by a few million as a load of people end up never even being born. We can't have that, which is where you come in."
"So, we kill/capture/evict anyone who leaves their time period without permission from you lot, to protect history?"
"Yes."
"I think I sorta understand..."
"Good. Now, you can handle a gun can't you?"
"Obviously."
"Good. We're off once Trent finds out which portal a band of youths took about 5 minutes ago. We don't want them changing history by planting a load of anachronisms wherever they've gone, or getting eaten by something."

The doors burst open as Trent ran in.

"I've got them! Hub command has given us a link. Kit up heavily though: we're off to the Cretaceous!"

Off in another room, this one much more secure, Andrew was preoccupied regarding the weaponry in a side room. This wasn't just an armoury: it was a shrine of killing. He was busy examining a weapon from the 2050-2099 rack, some sort of sleek Electrolaser, when Alan strolled in carrying a pair of metal cases.

"You won't be killing anything on this one, mate. This is just a retrieval, so you won't be needing any of this stuff. Anyway, one of these has your sensory equipment in for location of the youths, and the other has your emergency equipment in case you get stranded. You can work out how it works when you need it."

Alan left the room, and Andrew went over to where the two metal cases had been deposited. He noticed the one indicated as containing emergency equipment was sealed with red tape, with a note reminding him of its contents. The other one he had opened contained a black jumpsuit, webbing and a head-mounted unit. He quickly changed clothes, noting that the jumpsuit appeared to be made of two layers of Lycra encasing a very thin layer of gel. Strange, but then this entire place was weird. At least they might have let him rest first, but then they seemed to have a different agenda to him. One that belittled him greatly.

He had no idea what he would be doing following these guys, yet a voice deep inside him told him that he would be a fool to miss a job opportunity like this. Another nagged him to take some form of protection. Something a bit more familiar then these weapons of future destruction. Then he noticed the pistol rack on the far right wall, and saw the familiar butt of his pistol. What nerve they had had of confiscating it from him them depositing it here for others to use? He removed it, along with a pair of loaded magazines from one of the ammo safes, before grabbing a TASERNET pistol and 5 Level-2 cartridges. He felt very underarmed, since he usually carried much more in the way of weaponry than this. To make himself feel slightly better, he took a large hunting knife, alongside two cuboid units marked "GRENADE - STUN" and a one-shot dartgun. With this weaponry now hanging off his webbing and belt, he walked out to where the others were waiting, next to one of the shimmering windows into the past.

There were three others coming with him, all carrying a metal case, with two carrying palmtop computers. None, he noticed, were armed, save for large machetes.
"So, you've got the co-ordinates of their entrance into the period, and a ring of where they could be. Remember, they came in about 2km from where this portal is, over volcanic desert. Make sure you get out of there ASAP unless you want to encounter the local wildlife.
And to you, Andy: Good Luck."
"I wont need it, but thanks."

The three others stepped through the barrier separating now from them, leaving him with Trent on the gantry.

"Go on then: they're waiting."

Andrew took in a deep breath, closed his eyes, and walked through the interface. Though his eyes were closed, he was assaulted by a sudden brilliant white light and a loud screech, before he opened his eyes in the Cretaceous.

"It scared me shitless the first time, but I can pass through now as if the interface weren't even there."
Andrew was shaking his head, trying to clear out the ringing that still went on in his ears.
"Here, take an aspirin from your medikit. That should get you right as rain in a couple of minutes."

Andrew unzipped the red package in his rear pocket on his webbing, while Christine was checking on her palmtop, a cable snaking from her headset unit. After a few seconds, she straightened up, looking at the rest of the group through an iridescent lens.

"I've found them from the large concentration of Xi+ particles still holding onto them. If you put on your headsets, I've updated the enhanced reality setting to show you where we think they are. They're still in a group, and haven't moved too far. However, we can't take chances. I just hope none of them meet someone like matey-boy over there."

She extended one of her slender fingers to indicate a small figure, blurred by heat haze into a black smudge. It was only now he was realising how hot the place was, and that he was beginning to sweat. He took a swig from a canteen, tasting strangely sterile water, before setting out with the others towards the little red arrow in the distance, a number hanging above it. 3.5km was normally a stroll for him, but in this heat, it was becoming nightmarish.
His booted feet sunk into the black-grey dust that covered the landscape as he laboured after the others, who seemed to be moving surprisingly rapidly. They must have had more experience in this time period, and wondered how long this project had been going on unnoticed. Surely the media must have picked up mysterious figures appearing from other time periods, and history must be filled with strange aliens with supernatural powers...
But then, of course, they did! Witches, magicians, gods, aliens... they must all be part of this grand scheme of things.

"Tell us what's on your mind, Andrew: in this job, it's never a good idea to keep things to yourself, since it causes such tensions to build up."
Ryan had spoken, turning his dark, sweating face towards him.
"I was just wondering why nobody had noticed about these time travellers before... but then I answered my own question."
"They're called anachronisms. They are one of the reasons we were set up, along with timeline vandalism, temporal terrorism and of course paradoxes..."
"Like killing your own grandfather?"
"That one's one of the classics, and the one that a Prevanian ended up doing." An icy mood, if that was possible in this desert, descended upon the team.
"Don't talk about that. It still gives me nightmares."
"Me too."

They all became silent, now scrabbling up a rock face that seemed designed to inflict pain upon climbers. Thorny shrubs hit in good handholds, and the entirety of what appeared to be a lava flow was either unstable or appeared to comprise of knife-sharp edges.
After about 10 minutes, when they reached the top, Alice spoke up.
"I can see them over there: they're in the shade of that outcrop. They all look like they're lying down."
"Typical." Alice spat out the words, as if they burnt her tongue. "They're all dead from heatstroke."
"Not in the shade there. I think they've collapsed from something more sinister..."

Christine withdrew her palmtop, and attached a long probe to the data port, before viewing the screen. She froze.
"The levels of CO2 here are very high. We're gonna have to get to that lot before they die of it. If they aren't already dead. Gas masks?"
"No, we didn't bring any. And I'm not about to pull one out of my arse either."
"All right, all right. We'll have to risk it. I'll stay up here to call in backup if we need it, and you three can run in and retrieve them. Two each, except for you Ryan who can take three."
"And why?"
"For being a general know-it-all, and probably being the most ox-like out of us."
"I'll take the last bit as a round-about compliment."

The three dropped off their survival cases, before taking off their webbing. Andrew made sure that he still had his pistol on his belt, loaded.
"You didn't bring that? I won't argue: you're the hitman after all."

They began jogging towards the targets, now shown as only a few hundred metres away. Already, Andrew was feeling light-headed from the sweet fumes that he could see shimmering from cracks in the lava flow. This whole lot must only be recently formed, and there must be molten lava right underneath him...
He banished the thought as he reached the youths. They all had taken off their t-shirts and tied them around their waists, obviously to try and stem the heat that surrounded them. A quick check of the wrists and an ear to their mouths showed that they were still breathing, still clinging on to life.

"Come on: let's go!"

Andrew slung one of the youths, a petite girl, over his shoulder, while grabbing the other by his arms and dragging him. Ahead of him, Alice was panting as she dragged two of the unconscious bodies behind her, leaving a small trail of blood as they grazed and cut on the sharp rocks atop the lava flow. Though it was either that or certain death. Finally, very woozy and at the edge of collapse, they arrived back with Christine.
"I am not taking them all the way back, or waiting for them to wake up."
"I didn't intend it like that. While you were away, I radioed back to command and they were kind enough to send us a little bit of transport."
"How did you radio back? We're 70 million years in the past!"
"I left a relay back at the portal, and that has a wired connection through the portal."
They were interrupted by a roar, a sound never heard by humans before: the cry of a Tyrannosaurus Rex, finally stumbling upon food after starving in this hellish place.

The others stood there, rigid as the giant creature charged at them, the sun reflecting from its scaly hide. It's mouth showed to them what would be awaiting them if they didn't do something: row after row of orange teeth, set in sickly red gums.
The others began running as he drew his pistol from his belt, and were far away as he raised it in front of him. Through the red-dot sight attached to the top, he saw the yellow eye of the beast, an absolutely evil sight. In revulsion, his finger felt the curve of the trigger, and squeezed it. He met the familiar resistance as he reached the second position, that boundary between his life and the creatures, and felt no resistance as he pulled it past there. The pistol bucked in his steady hand as it fired, the bullet coughed from the silencer screwed upon the end to impact on the creature's skull.

He dived to the side firing another shot as the creature fell forward at him, spasming as the life drained from it. A final shot, and the once mighty creature lay still, red blood staining its dark hide. The others had started walking back towards him as he kicked the creature idly, checking it was indeed dead.
"Why did you kill it? You could have just knocked time out of joint by killing the ultimate ancestor of humanity."
"But we're still alive. And it was going to die anyway."
"Alright, alright. It seems we're OK for now. The chopper should be arriving..."

The roar of the helicopter, a Karish, cut his sentence short. A cloud of dust blew their way as the helicopter flew over, circling to find the best landing place. Eventually, it landed on a flat patch further along, the pilot indicating they should hurry.

"How did they get that in?"
"They obviously redirected one of the bottom-level portals. They're the ones we use if we need to take in vehicles or whatnot."
"Why would you want to do that?"
"There are more than just the Chronoguard using this network. There's Historical Research, a Diplomacy department, the Administration who control this entire Department, Project Exile..."
"What do they do?"
"I won't go into details. I can't, since you need Alpha-08 level clearance to even access the files, and Alpha-03 if you want to know what's actually going on. We only have Gamma-02 clearance, so no hard feeling eh?"

They boarded the helicopters with the youths, who had begun to wake up. A pair of medics, similar to the robotic guards he had seen in the facility escorting them, were also onboard and began to patch up their wounds, as well as checking them. Before giving each a does of Knockout.
"Why you doin' that?"
"They aren't supposed to know anything about this. Once we get back, they'll have their memories of the last few hours erased, and will be left to wake up where they entered, with a false memory of being in a fight. That should cover us up."
"It seems... wrong."
"If we don't do it, god knows what others will do when they find out? This is what we do: keep people where they should be, and stop them messing about. Sorry to sink your ship, but if you don't like it, tough."

They continued in silence back across the desert, though a shimmer in the sky back to the unfamiliar project building.

"We let Department 7 deal with them. They are, after all, the ones with the brainwashing kit."

He trudged back to the Chronoguard building, and stuck all his kit in his locker, which he found had been reserved. Very kind of them. He then went to the dormitory, and reclined on a foam bed in a separate cubicle. He reflected on his job: he would meet amazing people, yet had been told he would be doing things that conflicted with what he thought were fundamental rights: being entitled to one's memory, and freedom. The government seemed to control that and abuse these rights. And how many more mysteries did this place have? He had seen that this was only one Department out of 20, and wondered if they dabbled in such dark things as this place did. And what was Project Exile? He'd have to find that out once he'd had a bit of shuteye.

Andrew wondered if he would ever get out of the place he was in. He scooped up some porridge of indeterminate origin with a dented spoon in the canteen, depressed by the questions filling his head. This job would obviously be for the rest of his useful life, until he grew too old and was allowed to finally retire. Probably with no money whatsoever, after having everything about him destroyed, unless they didn't find his stashes of equipment and physical money scattered like grains of sand across the country.
"Wakey wakey, dreamer. You've got a job today." Alice squeezed him on the shoulder, dragging him back to reality.
"How do you know that?"
"It said on the noticeboard."

Andrew lifted himself from his warm seat, and trudged over to the large board upon the wall. He noticed when he looked closely it was actually a screen, the writing on there cold and artificial. He saw ANDREW written up in one of the corners, in a black that conformed to the rest of the identical colours, and touched it. It moved to the centre of the screen, and a note dropped down from it, beautifully executed by whatever computer was running it.
"See Trent."

That was very helpful. He went back to the table, leaving the screen to return to its original state, and finished off the gloop in his bowl. Having done that, he placed the cutlery in the neat pile by where the food was dispensed automatically, and walked over to the office of his superior. He rapped on the door with his knuckles, and heard the command to enter coughed from inside. As the door shut behind him, it clicked, locking it.

"I hope you are what I was told you were, since we have had something come up. In three days time, a terrorist organisation will go back in time via a home-made portal, and they will detonate an improvised atomic weapon in the north of the country, where our ancestors first were. They will destroy the entire Fegosian race, if our government does not comply with their demands to abandon the military and submit to Gha'tan rule. Which we can't, and won't.
You are the only operative of your kind that the government has that can travel through time. And we need you to take them out, as well as their portal apparatus. So, we will send you to where there portal opens. You will kill them all, neutralise the atomic weapon, and then destroy the portal. Be careful as to how you do it though, since we do not want any "side effects".
Any questions?"
"Why not use a normal force? Or even this Project Gaea I heard about?"
"They would be unable to use the portal network: we are not allowed to let anyone outside this department to know of its existence, otherwise the entire thing will be compromised: could you imagine how much damage commercial time-travelling entities would do to the timestream? How many vandals would be able to cross over? We just can't let it happen."

There was silence for a moment.
"Do I get backup?"
"Alice and Christine. They will be aiding you in this endeavour, and they know of this. They will be crossing back to help you blow the portal. But we need you to do what you do best, and execute them one at a time. Thus, the bomb won't be detonated there and then."
"OK. I see. And if the balloon goes up?"
"You won't feel your death. You will be vaporised instantly."
"Thankyou for your reassurance. I'll get kitted up."
"You've got an hour, before we open a new portal to where they will be entering. Do what you do best."

Andrew left, wondering if Trent appreciated what his job had been. Killing people for money, becoming a butcher... it was in some ways rather sickening for someone to compliment him on killing people, yet he had put that behind him when he killed for a third time.

A figure quite unlike Andrew now stood in front of an empty frame. This was right at the bottom of the Department, on concrete floor, with massive curves of metal tens of metres high reaching up towards the first of the lower gantries. Down here, it was quite unlike the solemn hum high above: automated machinery roared around, following black lines painted beneath his feet; massive generators howled as steam hissed to them through snaking pipes; the occasional manned vehicle screeched past into one of any portals, all painted in camouflage with an hourglass insignia.

To him, it was just a background cacophony, muted by the headset he was wearing. In his ear, disembodied voices briefed him on what was about to happen, about emergency procedures, about the targets.
"In a moment, we'll start putting energy into the ring. Try not to stand too close to exposed wires."
"Intelligence suggests a medium-sized group coming through, with a small guard left back to defend the portal from the modern side."
"We've got power in now. We'll start bombarding the core. If the sirens start going, get yourself out of there."

The air was thick with static now, as invisible energies gathered into the structure in front of him. On his belt, a quiet alert sounded from a small black cylinder, the digital screen on it alerting the observer to the gradual dent forming in space-time in front of him. With human eyes, it was possible to see that something was going on: a small white sphere had formed in the centre of the structure, the occasional spark shooting out from it towards any metal objects. As it expanded, Andrew took a few steps back, shielding his eyes from the radiance of the unearthly light, until he knocked into Alice who was standing behind him.
"Look where you're going why don't you!"
She was ignored as Andrew gazed in wonderment at the light. Suddenly, it expanded outwards in an invisible explosion, warming him as it passed through his armoured body. It left behind a shimmering image of a forest, a flock of birds flying away in panic from the viewers now there.

On the other side, he took in a deep breath, the air of millennia past filling his lungs. It tasted sweet, free from the pollution of the modern world, yet without the cold sterility of the reprocessed air from the... he chose to call it the Ministry of Secrets. It was obviously government owned and funded, so would be such a place.
He lifted up his palmtop device, and searched for his location and the location of where this other portal would be. A few hundred metres away, in a cleared river valley. A long track trailed behind it in four dimensions, showing that the users would be trying to calibrate it and move it around to the exact right spot beforehand. That would give him time. If they hadn't started trying to come through already.

Atop the hill overlooking the network of fields in the valley, he began to load his weapons. On his back was slung a device he had been assured would be useful for a task like this, yet still was not confident: an "Mk.2 Electrolaser, Commando Version, Lethal". A small pistol grip was the only familiar piece of the cuboid-shaped unit that was attached on top, with a strange form of scope on top and a carrying handle underneath. He pulled down the handle, feeling the weapon begin to warm up as he started charging the capacitors and battery with the pumping motion. After a few seconds, the scope meter showed the whole lot was ready. He let it hang from the black strap around his neck as he checked his more conventional sidearms: a pair of AFPM-28 machinepistols with obese silencers attached to the stubby barrels. In addition, he had 4 grenades slung across his webbing and his own pistol in a leg holster. Two long sheaths holding vicious knives hung from his belt, the inlaid handles protruding from his belt.

He laid down the emergency box, and threw a camouflage net over the top, concealing it amongst the bushes. Just in case, he left a radio marker atop it in case he couldn't find it. Now he was ready to confront the enemy. He waved a gloved hand, and was rewarded with a similar response from the opposite side: the two women were in position. Now to wait for the terrorists to make their move.

A storm had blown into the valley: rain pelted down, while bolts of lightning struck at trees. It seemed like a perfect cover for this attack. But where were the terrorists? They should be here soon.
A beeping sound starting emanating from his belt, and down in the valley, he saw a bright light slowly travelling across the fields. He stood up, water pouring off of his clothing, and began jogging down towards where the portal had stabilised. He could see the distant figures of men, walking out bemused as to their new surroundings. His prey. Now to split them up and hunt them down.
It was lucky that the Department had an inventory that was almost limitless: it had been easy finding distraction bombs, and the twelve bombs he had planted in a massive ring around the portal area before it had arrived would be exactly what he needed.

He took up a handset, and pressed a button. In series, the small devices began to play a whistling sound, attempting to lure in any listeners. Concealed amongst some bushes, he raised the lasergun and began to aim.

_______________________________________

"About bloody time." The head of this terrorist group, who called themselves the New Order, had decided to come along to watch the show. Around him, 9 other men busied themselves with watching the perimeter or carrying the large silver case. It palpated evil, a featureless surface concealing a power far greater than that these people would have ever experienced. He didn't care about knowing they hadn't done anything wrong: they were, after all, the founders of the foul race of Alfegos, and would do no harm to the world in purging them. Sure, some would die of lingering sickness keeping them in years of agony. Sure, the people of the future would be mystified as to the lingering radiation. But they did not care what they did to achieve their goal.

Suddenly, he heard a whistle. He turned to look in that direction, but saw no-one. More came, all around him. What was going on?
"Two men there, there, and there. The rest of you, get that bomb ready and prepare to make a run for it if the locals aren't too happy about us staying."

Black-clothed men, wielding a variety of battered assault-rifles, split off from the group towards where the whistles had come from. Little did they know what was about to happen.

_______________________________________________-

Silent kills. That was what he wanted. That was what Christine and Alice would be aiming for as well, while aiming at the foe. They were coming in pairs, so that would make matters difficult. Luckily, the weapon he was wielding appeared to be semi-automatic, so he would be able to take out both quickly. How to get them? He had been told it was lethal wherever, though it would be best to aim for the head or heart. It was supposed to kill by ventricular fibrillation, asphyxia or by getting their brain fried. The first would be the best to try.

The crunch of boots reminded him that he should stay alert, and that he would require skill for this. He had taken out large groups silently in former hits, yet had had to split them up or rely on them being unarmed. Two shots in rapid succession... that should be easy.
Through the scope, the silhouettes of the two men close together, quite unlike any intelligent soldiers should be, changed the cross-hair colour to red from the dull original black. So the weapon detected enemy as well? Useful to say the least. His finger clasped at the flat pad on the pistol grip, and began to compress that section. It slowly slid inwards, before clicking. What he saw next completely surprised him.

He had been expecting a beam that cut the person in half, or burnt them. Instead, there was a thunderclap as a bolt of lightening shot from the end of the weapon and sunk into the further man. He collapsed, his body spasming as residual current earthed itself, his muscles enroute. The other man had no time to react as he suffered the same fate, another white bolt following a perfectly straight line into the head of the other man. Hopefully, the storm above provided the cover he needed.

In the distance, he heard another two shots, and knew that that part had been taken care of. But the hardest part came now, when he would have to lone wolf the destruction of the bomb while the other two took care of the portal and terrorist base. He ran through the undergrowth, before taking cover amongst some bushes and crawling the last few hundred metres to the enemy. Someone had told him that he should be able to reach out and touch the foe if he was fully camouflaged. What he was wearing wasn't that bad at doing the job, but a gillie suit would be best. And he was definitely in range for 6 shots, before he had to recharge what he knew thought of as the Lightning Gun. Easy did it...

_________________________________________

The terrorist leader was wondering where his men had got to: he was slone save for the three men who were busy punching at a keypad and checking that it would work, while watching all the time. Something felt wrong here, and he wasn't sure what it is.
"You see that bush over there?"
"What about it?"
"Does it look like there's someone behind it?"
"Erm... now you say it, it does look like there's a guy behind it."

They hit the deck as a lightning bolt soared over their heads, followed by a quiet curse. Immediately, the men began returning fire towards the bush, trying to hit the man who had suddenly disappeared again. As long as they kept his head down though, they would be safe.

Another bolt of energy soared past the commander, hitting the man next to him. The acrid smell of burnt hair wafted past him, along with a cloud of smoke, that made him gag. He fought on, firing regardless of his aim, trying to avoid a similar fate to the other men, who were slowly being picked off. As he reloaded, he noticed a strange silence: the others had stopped firing. They were all dead, and he was the only survivor. He turned his head, and saw that the portal was closing. It began shrinking, before rapidly imploding into a tiny ball of light. A pinprick of warmth stayed floating in the air, until it was blown away by the wind and scattered across the area.

A voice called out from the bushes.
"There's no escape now. You know you're going to die now, and that you'll die rather unpleasantly if you don't help."
The commander fumbled with the magazine: it wasn't going into the rifle, a piece of dirt jamming it. He knew he was being toyed with, and that might give him time.
"Why did you try to dabble with time? It has a nasty way of turning around and biting you. Especially when people decide to protect it from the likes of you."
He flicked out the pebble, and slammed in the magazine, hearing it click as it locked in. Just to cock the rifle now.
"I am the only one with an escape. If you help me, by defusing that bomb, I won't kill you. I will knock you out and take you back to your time period, where the police will deal with you. I will make sure you get a fair trial, with your co-operation mentioned. I probably might even be able to get you off the hook."
He aimed the rifle at were he heard the voice coming, and pulled back the bolt. He took in a deep breath, and yanked the bolt backwards, before slamming it home.
"I take that as your sign not to co-operate. Very well."
The commander pulled the trigger as a bolt of energy soared directly towards him. He didn't have time to register shock as it sunk into his arm, earthing itself through his heart. Everything became filled with white light...

________________________________________

Andrew gasped as a round smacked into him chest, winding him. He struggled up, wheezing as he felt a large bruise spread around the impact site. At least this bullet-proof kit was what it said, and had saved his life. He looked down and saw an expanded round directly above his pounding heart. Now that was a shot he respected.

He ran over to where the bomb was lurking, and groaned: why did they always do what they did on the films, and stick a large digital timer on the bomb? At least it told him that he had 5 minutes to save the entire Fegosian race. The dead men had taken all their knowledge with them, unless...
The man he had shot last had only been down for 15 seconds. Enough time to revive him? He stuck his finger into the man's neck, and felt no pulse. What shocked him was that the man was still breathing. So not that hopeless after all.
He began to pump on the man's chest, 15 beats followed by a pulse and breathing check. 42 beats in, and he was followed by a loud gasp as the man came back to life. He knew in films and books this was always portrayed as working, yet in this reality he had been lucky: it only worked 20% of the time. He released he had just wasted a minute as he saw the man was still unconscious. How to dispose of the bomb then? He had an idea.

(OOC: Sorry readers about the tardiness in story delivery...)

"Coming through! Clear me a path!"

Andrew was sprinting across the concrete floor of the department, the clamour of alarms sounding all around him. Behind him on an improvised sled came the nuclear weapon, the counter only reading 75 seconds. He came to a halt in front of another massive ring, this one empty. Sparks flew around him as they started it up, for disposing of the bomb in the only way possible in their time span.
"Control, do you hear me?"
"Affirmative. We're firing up the ring to a patch of empty space on the edge of the solar system. Just leave the bomb there, and get the fuck out!"

Andrew untied the strap around his waist, and shoved the sled over to the edge of the portal. In the centre of it, the white sphere was forming, slowly building up. The timer now read 45 seconds: was there time?
"Didn't you here me? Get your arse in a sealed unit now!"
He sprinted to one of the imposing bulkheads set in the wall, sliding down rapidly. In films, wasn't he supposed to have more time to slip under?
He dived forwards as the bulkhead crashed down, smacking his head on the featureless surface.
"Shit!"

As he ran over to another of the doors, he was blinded by the light of the portal opening. He turned back, and saw a piece of blackness suspended in the air, peppered with pricks of starlight. He saw the nuclear weapon flick into the gaping portal and off into oblivion, as a sudden force smashed into him and dragged him towards oblivion. He went to scream and felt the breath being sucked from his body. The howling maelstrom of objects flying towards the portal suddenly calmed, as he realised that there now was no pressure. He tried to breathe in, but found an atmosphere devoid of air. He yelled into his radio, then realised the truth of the vacuum: he would be unable to say anything, and would die in complete silence, the outside world oblivious. In his last moments of consciousness, he felt a warmth travel through his body as pure white light engulfed him.

______________________________________________

The man gasped as he woke up, consciousness hitting him like a sledgehammer. A throbbing headache in his head, stiffness in his joints and a massive burn on his shoulder all conspired to make him feel absolutely awful. His eyes flicked open, the blurry image slowly melting back into a dark landscape of fields, a veil of clouds overhead. He rolled over onto his back, moving his joints. All seemed well, with nothing badly broken. But how had he survived was slowly coming back to him.

He placed his hands on the ground to lever himself up, and plunged one into the chest of a soft object. Looking to his left, he saw a white-faced corpse, its face twisted into a final moment of agony. He recoiled, and collapsed back onto the ground. Here, he could see footprints in the mud, leading off into the woods. Had his assailants gone there? Would he be able to return? His train of thoughts hushed as he heard voices in the distance. 16 uniformed men, each with a silver case on their backs, each wearing identical black BDUs. A silent command saw them extend into a line as the came over to his area. Two men split away, looking intently at their radio scanners, while the others proceeded to the group. It appeared that this organisation he had confronted even cleaned up after themselves. Some sort of time police? If he had only known that they extended even into the past and future...

"Look's like we've still got one alive!" One of the workers yelled out as they reached him.
"You sure?"
"Yes. He is definitely breathing!"
"But with something like that, he can't have survived."
"Resuscitated? All I know is that he's going to have one hell of a wakeup when he gets back. Especially if the Ministry decides to hand him over to the ISS."

He fell limp as arms grasped onto him, and he was rolled onto a stretcher. He kept up the impression of unconsciousness as he was carried off. To wherever he was being taken.
________________________________________________

Soft sheets confronted Andrew as he woke from the nightmare he had been having. What an imagination he was developing...
He looked around the room, a small white cubicle, and noticed black clothing and an oxygen cylinder. That first thing reminded him of something. A doctor walked into the room, holding a clipboard, and pulled up a chair.
"Hello. I'm Doctor Thomlin, and I will be your doctor for the duration of your bed rest." The doctor had a voice as sterile as the room he had entered, and a grim visage concealed the sight of hundreds the dying.
"What the hell happened?"
"You don't remember? You know you are lucky to be alive. 5 seconds more and we could have lost you forever."
"Of what?"
"Subject shows forgetfulness of the event: possible oxygen deprivation to brain or even damage?" the Doctor muttered to himself, making notes, before he looked up.
"You were in a vacuum for 45 seconds. By that time, your blood had begun to boil, which could have damaged your brain. Tell me, do you have anything else you could tell me?"
"It seemed like it was a dream... but obviously it wasn't. I think I blanked out after 20 seconds in the vacuum, but remember feeling this strange warmth..."
"It was 28 seconds then. You've set a record for amount of time stayed conscious in a vacuum, compared to anyone else ever exposed to such a vacuum and surviving."

Andrew gave the Doctor the look: of not wanting whatever was going on to drag on, and to get out of there and back to reality as soon as possible. To the outside world. Then he realised that he wouldn't ever get out. Until he died, or was at the end of his useful life, he would be trapped here without any escape.
"I'll leave you alone now. I'll be back in 1/4 of an hour to test your blood and mental capabilities, and if they seem unchanged then I will tell them to discharge you."

The doctor walked briskly from the room, polished shoes clattering on the linoleum. Andrew collapsed into the white bed, and lay for awhile in thought. When the Doctor returned, a blood sampling kit in one hand and another clipboard in the other, Andrew had made his mind up: he was getting out of here, and was not going to return. Somewhere in the future, where he could start his life again in the luxury of advancement.

"Another task for you. This time, you're going it alone."

Andrew was sitting again in Trent's office, absorbing every useful piece of information as he was used to doing in his old occupation. Another time traveller was his target this time: she was young, pretty, and deadly. A hitman, like he was, but into the past and future. In this case, the future. Just the opportunity he had been looking for. As he loaded up his equipment and chose his tools, he reflected upon what was to happen. To run in, and then disappear. He had done that many times before, so believed there would be no problem.

"Remember: you aren't killing her. We need to know who her clients are, so we have a chance of sorting out this problem."

A shimmering interface, the sensation of warmth, and he blinked as he stared out across the silver cityscape in front of him. Low-flying aircraft silently cut through the sky, and he gazed down upon streets flowing with people. No cars in this time period? He took out his Palmtop and attempted to tune into the local T.V network. A brilliant cut picture began streaming onto it.

"Good Morning! This is Zevkhay Radio, and it's 8:30 am on April 19th 2096. In today's news, it is the 50th anniversary of the launch of Astroplan services, and how much they have changed since those early days. I have it's founder with me, who will explain a.."
He switched it off, and accessed the internet. After fiddling about with compatibility packages and a barrage of adverts, he had a map of the city up. How much he would have to learn to fit in here.

He would make it seem like he was doing something useful at this point, to any observers, by completing the hit. As he walked off however, he left a weapon that had finally made him do what he had been intending to do. A suitcase-sized box, slotted into his rucksack, lay beside the portal, a small antenna standing up from the top. He stepped into the stairwell of the enormous tower block, and descended down a brightly-surfaced shaft to one of the lower floors. He flicked down his infrared goggles, finding an apartment that was not preoccupied. He deposited his equipment there, hiding it underneath the sheeting left there by the builders of this building, still apparently under construction, making sure nothing was visible of the emergency case and the rucksack he had been carrying. Placing on gloves and taking a set of lockpicks with him, he went over to the door and began twiddling with the lock. Which turned out to be electronic. Damn! He thumped the door in frustration, and was surprised when it swung open.

Inside, a minimalist entrance hall led to a minimalist lounge, a large screen built into the wall. A table, covered in a nearly invisible mesh of wires, held a small MP3-sized cylinder and a large flexible screen, a symbol showing it was charging. In the wall, a kitchen unit, with only a microwave and fridge atop the worktop, cupboards obviously filled with food and utensils. The sink was brimming with dirty plates, and with blood. Odd? He proceeded further into the bedroom area, and found a sight he had been dreading. In front of the darkened windows, a single bed held a single body, the white sheets not any stains. The figure’s face held a look of surprise, and of burning: a large singed patch was spread across the side of the figure’s face and around its ankles. Its hand held a knife, fused into the burnt flesh around the metal decoration, with blood on it. A trail led over to the window, and to a hole in the glass. That pane was discoloured around the fracture, flashing constantly as it tried to stay a fixed tone. Out through the hole, he could see a body on the ground far below, a police vehicle pulling over to it. In the distance, a helicopter was moving towards the apartment, lights flashing along its side.

He left the apartment quickly, taking with him some rather useful items: some clothing for a start from the wardrobe, and as much money as he could find. He also thieved some chocolate from the fridge, surprised when the packaging started showing a moving display. Futuristic packaging? He munched on the familiar taste as he went to the other room: he had now named it as his backup space. Until he had fixed accommodation, he would keep his stuff here. He slipped on the clothing, noting how different it was to the clothing of his period: a moving logo for a start, which he disabled in mid-bounce with a hidden fabric switch. Now he was more like the other people, he checked the money: Æ2000. What had this guy been saving for? It was enough to hopefully rent out some accommodation for a few months, until he could get an identity and some income. He knew where to look for that sort of thing.

He walked out in the clothing and into the waiting lift, and into a new life.

Strolling down one of the many boulevards of this massive city, Andrew continuously looked about, in awe at the many hundreds of massive towers punching up towards the sky. In the centre of the sprawl of buildings, he could see a single silver-blue tower stretching so far up that it disappeared into the cloud layer moving in from the sea in the distance. Here, in this new city, he was able to occasionally recognise glimpses of a former New Zevkhay: street names he recalled attached to the occasional granite structure, different to the glass and metal monoliths that had become the structure of favour.

Following his old mental map of the city, he eventually reached what had once been Liberty International Airport, right on the edge of the city centre. Now, a different electronic placard showed an orange logo and the name "Liberty International Spaceport." A roaring craft shot past him down the runway, two boosters hanging from underneath the heat-tiled wings and spewing flame from behind. Rapidly taking off, a shockwave as it broke the sound barrier passed through him like the portal would have. A beeping from his palmtop reminded him of the assignment he was supposed to do.

Another apartment block, luckily near the airport. From the window in the fast-moving elevator, he could see the new cityscape below him: hundreds of roofs, each covered in solar panels and antenna stretched around the base of this tower; the apartment blocks and high-rise offices reached upwards out of the sea of apartments; across the silvery river, thousands of squat, rectangular units with the occasional chimney or other orifice sat neatly enclosed by what appeared to be a grid of maglev tracks. But the most spectaculer sight was what they had done to the harbour: around the sides of the bay, a massive caldera of mirrors focused light onto the crumbling ruins of one of the island fortresses, a burning white dot even with the light strata of clouds above him. From here, he could also see the massive tower again, and noticed a display on it. Words flashed across it, a reminder of some sort of spectacle in a few hours time.

The lift slowed and stopped, with the hiss of doors opening announcing his arrival. A normal guy, it appeared. Two knocks on the door he had been told about. He stepped away from the door, unable to be seen through the peep hole. The door opened after a cautious silence, the occupant obviously thinking he was a prankster. A blond head poked out, facing the wrong direction to show a face in the pale skin. He drew from underneath the coat he had purloined his silenced pistol, feeling the familiar weight in his hands. The rustle revealed the target to have a beautiful visage of blue eyes, thick eyelashes and pretty lips. They screwed up in terror, a scream welling up inside. A muffled crack as the bullet shot from the weapon's barrel, spinning as it travelled, followed by another crack as it entered the victim's skull. Jacketed ammunition meant that it passed out the other side, banging into the door frame. Two neat holes, nicely cauterised by the heat of the ammunition. Fluid began to leak though onto the linoleum. Time to carry out disposal.

He lifted up the still warm body, the eyes wide in fear, and shoved its head into a plastic bag, before hefting it into the elevator, which he had jammed on stop. He then busied himself with tidying up: he used a knife to flick the flattened round from the plastic door frame, digging out much more to make it seem like some sort of impact instead of a bullet, before entering the apartment. After collecting together more cash and picking up a mop, he wiped clean the patch and rinsed the mop.

The elevator halted at the bottom-most floor: the maintenance floor. Here, machinery whined and pipes hissed, a dark maze. Soon, he reached what he had been looking for: a sewerage pipe. He dropped the body into the putrid waters below, attached a rope to it and a railing hatch over a pipe, stopping it from flowing away. It would be left to rot there, until a skeleton remained. Pieces could be left to disappear anywhere, impossible to recognise.
Just to make sure, he performed one final duty: he used the pliers attachment on his multitool to remove each of the teeth in turn, removing any dental record. No chance of identifying the skeleton now then.
The hatch closed as he left, dropping his gloves into a waste receiver, that promptly made them disappear, to some invisible cause.

Now, to start his plan.

As he left the apartment tower, Andrew drew out a remote control device. A small black unit that fitted snugly into his palm, a single red button hidden under a trigger cover. He extended the short metal aerial, and stepped into a service road to the side of the building. Behind automated rubbish outlets, each coloured according to the refuse they concealed, he flicked up the trigger guard, and took in a deep breath. His finger slowly descended onto the button, before a burst of willpower stabbed the button deep into the recess. In the distance, he saw a flash of orange-white light, expanding outwards in a massive ring. Around it, the air refracted the sky into distorted shapes, as time itself changed in the presence of the shockwave. In front of him, people in the street were yelling and pointing towards the top of the building, wondering what on earth was going on. Only he knew what he had just actually done.

He tossed the detonator for the Temporal Portal Terminator Bomb into the receptacle marked "electronic waste", before strolling outwards into the street. The people were starting to dissipate as sleek, aerodynamic vehicles rolled down the avenues towards the building, loud visual and aural alerts telling all to stand aside. Through the tinted windows, he could just make out the shapes of dark-clothed men holding what appeared to be Electro-lasers. Just like the one in the bag he had left in that apartment.

Moving along with the exodus of people towards buildings as a light drizzle spattered at the pavement, Andrew felt the familiar bustle of the people, the tide parting around still obstacles or governmental officials. Those officials worried him: he still had no idea of what was occurring in Alfegos at this point, so followed the flashing signs towards an old building. It hung depressed over the streets below, devoid of electronic signs and presumably people. A large sign hung over it, proclaiming the structure to be "New Zevkhay Central Library". He reminded himself of the familiar structure, before passing in through the antiquated wooden doors.

Inside, a holy silence prevailed. Rows of metal, wooden and plastic shelves spread out in front of him, hanging signs proclaiming each separate section. Beyond that, the steel cabinets of the document and patent archive stood out, users sliding out the long dark draws revealing ranks of plastic-preserved sheets. To one side though, he saw what he was looking for: a large computer station. A few users sat there, not appearing to be using the dark screen, but wearing plastic headsets with a pane of glass over their eyes. Long cables hung from the headsets, trailing back to the computer. He walked over, and started up the screen, before trailing through the familiar structure of the Internet mk.1. He even recognised the Internet Explorer functions, though they were far in advance. Lost in the thralls of online information panes, he didn't notice the librarian advance behind him.
"Excuse me sir."
Andrew whipped around, seeing the figure leaning over him.
"Do you not know how to use a neural interface?"
"A what?"
The Librarian gave him a look that suggested he must be retarded not to know such a thing, before lifting the headset.
"Just place it on your head, and flip down the pane of glass. From there, you'll be instructed on what to do."
"Thank you."

The Librarian paced off as he placed the device over his head. For a moment, he wasn’t sure if the headset was working. Then he felt a sudden jolt of white-hot pain as needles sunk into his skull in a band about the front and rear of his skull. The image in front of his eyes exploded into a thick cloud of flashing lights, white noise and tingling in all his limbs. In front of his eyes, these all combined into a three-dimensional bar, rapidly increasing in size as it showed completion of its loading. The image changed, and he suddenly found himself standing in a white room, a man standing in front of him.
“Who are you, and where am I?” he rushed the words in his panic, looking about the endless whiteness of the world he was in.
“Hello. I am your help program, and will be assisting you in the use of the Fegosoft Excelsior operating system. You are logged in as a guest user on Computer 4 of the New Zevkhay Central Library, and are currently in the desktop.

A brief moment of silence as this sank in, followed by a cautious reply.
“So, I’m inside a computer?”
“No: what you are sensing at the moment are inputs to your mind from the probes inserted into your skull and into the sensory centres of your brain. The computer just provides the image.”
“Wait: imagine I’m from 90 odd years ago, and I know nothing about this. Where do I start?”
“If you go over to the menu terminal there, you will find the link to the internet.”
Andrew cautiously walked over, before dipping his hand into the screen, selecting the internet. A sudden sea of colours and letters confronted him, before he was suddenly surrounded by hundreds of men identical to his helper, who floated beside him effortlessly, legs crossed and in a thoughtful pose. Each had a large sign floating over their heads. He suddenly realised they were search engines. He walked over to the nearest one, a Google banner hanging over it, and began speaking.
“Can you take me somewhere where I can find out about history from…”
He was cut off as he flashed suddenly to an enormous white library, filled with suited programs.
“Thanks.”

He looked above him, and groaned: a massive banner on each shelf showed that he was in Wikipedia. Why oh why had he gone here?
“Can you change the appearance of the place to what I want, and show me what each of these guys is doing?”
“Certainly. Imagine what you want the place to be like.”
An image flashed up, turning the library back into that like the old library in reality. One of the men at the reception wore the tag “Search Assistant”. A brief conversation left him suddenly teleported to a large shelf of books. He reached out and took one: a glowing volume with a warm radiance leaking from the sides. Flicking it open, he was confronted by a film. He looked at the cover: it was labelled as a summary video of the last 50 years. He continued watching, not expecting to suddenly sink into the film. Around him, he could see events going on, rushing past at accelerated speeds, slowing down as the narrator’s voice explained the goings on. He watched, bemused, until it ended. He definitely had missed a bit in these last years.

For now, Alfegos was ruled by a Dictator: a benevolent one mind, but one who used the military of the entire nation to cater every single demand. An empire stretched the globe of developing nations, colonies that had been transformed from their old poverty into the futuristic technology of Alfegos. He learnt that oil was now a precious substance, rationed between the plastics industry and the military, both turning to Hydrogen and to Biorefining. But the worst thing he had read about was what happened up in Polinas: it was now an entire desert. Climate change had left its mark as decreased rainfall across Alfegos, converting all food grown to hydroponics. Any outside plants were rare now, due to the presence of bacteria that had killed off most living species. But, on the other hand, there was the luxury of this artificial world.

He gasped as he felt the headset being removed, the large probes retracting from his skull. A few seconds later, after the spikes sterilised themselves and his skull was sealed with an artificial coagulant, he stood up, the headset dropping off. He knew now that it seemed to be a mistake, coming to this false future. And did he have a way back? He groaned loudly.

Rushing through the apartment block, he found himself in that room again. Underneath the un-disturbed items, he found his rucksack and the emergancy suitcase. The silver chest was layed out on a table, while he took out a knife from his kit bag. Inserting it into the plastic lock, he began to use it's leverage to prise it open. He was surprised to see the large red tag just fall off, then realised that it must have some form of sensor built into it. That detected trouble?

He flicked up the four catches along the top of the case, and lifted up the lid. Spread out in front of him now were 6 black plastic pods, each with a number on them, the joint where they slid apart covered in sticky sealant tape. Held in place by one of the straps inside was the instruction manual. Just what he needed. Some awful publication. But at least they gave him some instruction. Flicking through the contents, he reached the reference to his current predicament: "Portal Closure". Turning to that chapter, he was confronted by brightly coloured text, diagrams, and whatnot. He began reading:


When you are cut off from your time period by a sudden portal closure, the first reaction is to take in and find out about your time period: how to dress and the local laws are a good thing to start with finding.
"Done that." He murmured under his breath as he kept reading onwards.


Next, your primary option should be to find another portal in the vicinity. To do so, use the map unit located in Pod 3, and be sure to scroll to your time period. Settings can be made using the TPS (Temporal Positioning System) located in the same pod.

Reaching into the case, he unstrapped the black unit with the tearing of velcro, and used his knife to cut open the adhesive tape clinging reluctantly to the unit. With it in a scrunched-up ball tossed behind him, he carefully slid open the unit, being careful not to distrub the contents. Padded inside were three large probes, each with a label haning off, and a small palmtop unit. He dropped it out onto his hand, and depressed the recessed button atop the unit. The screen flashed up, the battery section warming in his hand, and colours flickered across the surface. Soon, it presented him with a map of the entire globe, covered in pinpricks. Not very useful.
He reached back into the pod, drawing out the three probes. Drawing the one marked "TPS" away from the "Temporal Communications" and "Tag Receptor" rods, he flicked open the ending cover and slid it gently into one of the sockets atop the palmtop, a circular one with an inside and core lined with gold circuit receptors. Twisting it gently, it entered, and rewarded him with a quiet chime. The image circled about, and then suddenly showed the Zevkhay province of Alfegos. A date in the corner showed his time period, and little icons marked the different portals. Apart from the one marked as "Deactive Hub Link", there were only two others. One was on the main airport runway, and linked off to 2072. The other wouldn't appear for 5 years.

He flicked back to the manual, and read on.

In the extremely unlikely event of being stranded without a suitable portal link to your destination, open Pod 6. From here, remove the Temporal Distress Beacon, and set it to Emergancy. If you are not in part of the network supported by the beacon (after 2090), then remove the Time Marker Flare, and fire upwards into the air. This should guarentee an immediate response, but remember that the EMP (Electromagentic Pulse) will disable all equipment outside the case when shut, and all electronics within 5 miles.

Hesitantly, he slipped Pod 6 open, and emptied it out on the table. While the one device was a small torus attached to a larger battery pack and strange tube, the other was a rather ordinary flare gun with 4 silver spheres in a magazine inserted into it. Should he try it here? While it would be the best for him, what would happen to this district of the nation? It was in the future, yes, but surely to meddle with the timestream would be to blow his cover with the others? He needed to get back to the hub to find another palce better than this, yet away from this unpalatable future. What would he choose?