I clenched my fists and blinked back tears and then rolled onto my side and curled up into a little ball.

  I’m not sure how much time passed, but it couldn’t have been more than a minute. It felt like an eternity, but I was still sobbing with gusto and still unable to catch my breath, so I hadn’t been melting down for long enough to get tired.

  But my tears stopped, and the sobs ceased, and I held my breath when the wheel on the hatch began to turn from outside.

  I scrabbled backwards like a bruised crab and pushed myself as far as I could get under the console behind the Surgeon’s chair. My hair hung limply down over my face, sweat dribbled down my spine making me shiver, my teeth chattered with the increased adrenaline racing through my system, and my head pounded.

  And then bright light blinded my eyes.

  I squinted, raised a hand to shade my face, and heard a sucked in breath of air from outside.

  “Mouse?” Dean Jordan said.

  I squeaked.

  “Hey, hey, Mouse,” Dean said softer from closer to my side. “It’s OK, mate. You're OK now.”

  I started crying again, my mind telling me I was seeing things. That this wasn't real. That Dean was a ghost, and I was off my rocker at last. That one too many shocks and space-like travel had finally done me in for good. I pushed him away. I tried unsuccessfully to hide behind hanging wires. I screamed when a shadow fell over us both from behind Dean.

  Someone hissed, “Get out!” Someone else crawled in beside Dean and handed him a bottle of water and then retreated. Someone else started messing with the controls at the side of the hatch, turning off the emergency lights and shutting down systems all over the module, while throwing furtive looks at where I cowered.

  “All clear,” the person at the door said and took one last look towards me and then stepped out of the hatch into what looked like the hangar at RATS.

  “Mouse,” Dean said softly. “Drink this.” He handed me the water bottle. I took it automatically. The coolness against my burned hand felt nice. The solidity of the object grounded me.

  Dean didn't move an inch. It was just him and me left inside the powered down Vehicle. Darkness wrapped around me, accentuating the brightness I could see through the open hatch.

  “Where am I?” I asked, my voice rasping.

  “Home,” Dean said. “RATS,” he added.

  “When?”

  “RD,” he said, not making any sense. “Reset Date,” he explained. “That’s current approximate time and place which is a swanky way of sayin’ approximate time and place at original departure. Which, if you ask me, is just another tosser way to say where you started your flight from.”

  “You’re not making any sense.”

  He smiled; bright white teeth out of a jet black face. So familiar.

  Was this real?

  “Time is fluid, right?’ he said. “We can move forward and backwards at will. So sayin’ this ‘ere is current time means jack shit really. But sayin’ it’s where you started from - as close to it that Time will allow you to be, anyway - that gives you a base, see? You started your flight to 1982 Japan today, right ‘ere and now, give or take a half hour, so your Orion has brought you back to the same time and place. To your Reset Date, get it?”

  “Why not just say the actual date?” I asked, feeling my heart settle with every inane thing my friend said. Feeling like this might just be real. I’d address RATS’ destruction afterwards. I just needed a minute to catch my breath.

  “Because Time is relative, innit? Today’s date may mean nothin’ to someone who’s flown back and forth through Time and got their ‘ead messed with.”

  “How do you know my head’s been messed with?” I said indignantly.

  “Please,” he said. “The great Mimi Wylde hidin’ behind a Surgeon’s chair. That ain’t right, is it? So,” he said. “What did you do with Winchester and Jessop?”

  And just like that, the panic surged back in.

  “He’s not here?” I asked, shifting to crawl out of my hidey-hole.

  “Ah, no,” Dean said cautiously.

  “Where’s Jack?” I demanded, moving to stand. The module spun alarmingly.

  “Went back to find you.”

  “Me? Why?”

  “Because Orion 3 hit their Return and disappeared. Where you been, anyway?”

  “Japan. 1982.” I grimaced, remembering RATS in the 23rd Century. Did that happen tomorrow? Later today? A week from now? At all?

  Was I going crazy?

  We were definitely in the 23rd Century right now, and according to the date on the tablet screen Dean finally showed me, we were back at the Reset Date; the date Winchester, Jessop and I flew on. Which should have meant, the Return Winchester and I did in Orion 3 earlier should have brought us to this time and place, as well. To this Reset Date.

  But when I stepped out of the module and took in the hangar, the scene that greeted me appeared precisely as it should be. Not destroyed and abandoned and coated in ash.

  Everything was where we had left it, apart from Orion 2 being missing from its launchpad, and the Orion 3 launchpad still being empty, and a new Orion sitting on its side beside a gaping hole in the wall of the hangar; reminiscent of another hole I’d seen on a much bigger building back in my time. And, I slowly realised as I turned in a full circle to take everything in, the Orion I had returned in just now sitting in the middle of the hangar and not on a launchpad at all.

  “I need to speak to Dr Crawford,” I said, my body shaking.

  “He’s seein’ the Prime Minister and Minister for Space Flight at Parliament this mornin’,” Dean said.

  “Get him back here,” I whispered. “Get all the Surgeons together,” I added. “Something’s not right.”

  “You tellin’ me, Mouse? How the bleedin’ ‘ell ‘ave we got two Orion 6s?”

  “What?” I said and turned to see Dean looking between my Orion and the one just beside the gaping hole.

  Both of them identical.

  9

  Willingly

  Jack

  “She’s gone,” I said, stepping into the Orion and closing the hatch behind me.

  “Yes, and she’s left a sine wave the size of the Empire State Building behind her,” Groves replied.

  I stared at the international orange sine wave up on the screen as Rafe shifted dimensions, ensuring we remained out of sight.

  “Fix that, would you?” I asked and threw myself into the command chair.

  My body ached, my head hurt, my eyes felt gritty as if I hadn’t had any sleep for a week, instead of just twenty-four hours. I ran a hand through my hair and scratched at my jaw and then lowered my arm and stared at the still tremor-less fingers.

  What the blooding fucking hell was going on?

  “What was that explosion all about?” Rafe asked, checking various angles on the camera lenses outside.

  “An MPCV flying through the police station where Mimi was being held.”

  Both Sally and Rafe stopped what they were doing and gaped at me.

  I grimaced.

  “It seems Winchester dropped her off for some reason,” I explained, “and had to make an emergency flyby to pick her back up again. But God alone knows what the hell he was thinking.” I nodded toward the sine wave pointedly.

  “Dropped her off?” Rafe said. “What the bloody hell would he do that for? A Novitiate? Why not Jessop?”

  I shook my head.

  “In any case, they’re not here.” I looked to Groves for confirmation.

  “No Orion 3 signature, sir,” she said.

  “Good,” I said, just as she muttered, “But I could have sworn…”

  “Sworn what, Groves?” I demanded, my headache getting the better of me.

  She shook her head. “It couldn't have been, sir. My mistake.”

  “Groves,” I said with infinite patience.

  It obviously didn't sound that patient, because she paled and rushed to say, “Orion 6, sir. I thought I saw Orion 6. But that can’t be right. Can it?”

  “No,” both Rafe and I replied in unison.

  Then I said slowly, “That was Orion 6 that crashed through the police station?”

  “Er,” Groves mumbled, staring at her computer screen as if it held the correct answer.

  “There,” Rafe said, pointing to the signature of an Orion Vehicle we hadn’t seen in over a year until this morning back in our time at RATS. “Definitely 6.”

  “What the bloody fucking hell does that mean?” I asked.

  No one had an answer.

  “Did they send it back for her? Or us?” I added.

  Still nothing from my astute team.

  “Why 6?”

  “Why was Mimi on her own and Winchester and Jessop nowhere to be seen?” Rafe muttered.

  I nodded my head. We had too many questions, and none of them would be answered here. Mimi was somewhere; I knew that much. My hands weren’t shaking, and apart from the headache, I wasn't suffering from anything that could be attributed to PDR withdrawal. So, we had to assume, Orion 6 was sent back to get Mimi for some unknown to us reason, and she was now back at RATS in our time.

  “Is that rip mended?” I asked.

  “It’s a bit trickier than it looks,” Rafe growled, inputting commands with such force his keyboard shuddered.

  “Here, let me take a look,” I said and pulled out my own keyboard.

  The sine wave remained stubbornly international orange twenty minutes later.

  “What’s wrong with it?” Groves asked.

  I shook my head and kept on working.

  “Sometimes rips can’t be stitched, Sally,” Rafe said. “You know this. Sometimes they require a brand new wave being made.”

  “Is this one of those times?” she asked as I tried to block them out and input a command I’d used three times now to little success.

  “I don’t know,” Rafe muttered. “This should be a standard rip, but something’s…”

  “Something?” I pressed, desperate for a new angle to work on.

  “It’s like it’s a rip on top of a rip,” Rafe murmured. “So, when you fix one, the other still winks back at you, and by the time you fix it, the original rip has been affected by the second one and is torn again. Perpetual circle.”

  I stopped writing the latest command to stitch.

  “First Orion 3 barrels through here and possibly drops off Mimi,” I mused aloud, “and then Orion 6 appears out of nowhere and picks her up and meanwhile Orion 2, our Orion, is sitting here muddying the waters.”

  “Three Orions at once. That’s not unusual,” Rafe said.

  “So, maybe there were more? Lunik?”

  “I can’t see one more upsetting the time wave significantly.”

  “Maybe it’s not the Orions at all,” Groves said.

  “Then what?” I asked. She’d surprised me before; I sincerely hoped she’d surprise me again now.

  Sally just shrugged her shoulders in reply, reminiscent of Mimi. They’d been spending way too much time together. I frowned back at the screen and then proceeded to make Time.

  It wasn’t too difficult to achieve. Certainly not Novitiate standard and even Rafe would have some trouble perfecting it in a timely fashion. But I’d had my fair share of having to make Time now. Those occasions, however, usually occurred when a Lunik practically obliterated history in a given time period. I wasn't sure that was the case now, but making Time - or as it is more accurately described; reconstructing Time - seemed to do the trick. The sine wave turned from international orange to soft orange to bright blue to finally pale blue on the screen.

  “Thank fuck for that,” Rafe muttered.

  “Language, Doctor,” I said out of habit. I could talk.

  I sat back in my seat and rubbed my face with both hands. I hadn’t determined what had caused the recalcitrant rip. I hadn’t even documented the multiple ways history had been changed out there by Mimi’s presence and Orion 6’s demolition of the police station. As far as doing my job went, I’d seriously performed under par.

  But the rip was mended, and with any luck, we wouldn’t have to return here.

  I couldn't help thinking, though, as Rafe input coordinates for home, that whatever had happened here was going to have ongoing consequences. The more we knew about what had caused a rip in the first place, the higher the chance of that rip remaining contained.

  But 1982 in Tokyo, Japan meant something now. Even if it hadn't meant a thing before Orion 3 came here. What had transpired since their arrival meant something now. We’d have to keep a close eye on Tokyo.

  But then, Orion 6 had returned to us via Singapore, not Japan, so whether or not this mended rip would cause issues in Japan or Singapore, Time would have to tell.

  For now, I wanted Mimi. I wanted her in my arms. Under my skin. Hell, I’d settle for her in my bed.

  I shut my eyes and let myself drift off to sleep, which seemed to be the only place Mimi Wylde ever actually made it into my bed with me. And welcomed the woman I loved under my skin. Willingly.

  10

  Just Like That

  Mimi

  “Join RATS they said,” Bryan Fawkes muttered. “It’ll be fun they said. Goddamn liars.”

  He thumped a hand down on the meeting room table and startled a couple of Novitiates.

  I was too exhausted and drained to be startled. I stared off into space and listened to the low hum of excited conversation. Dr Crawford wasn’t back from Parliament yet, but all the Surgeons, Interns and Novitiates had gathered for a debriefing.

  I think they expected me to say something.

  Bryan being the most senior Surgeon left at RATS in Crawford, Winchester and Jack’s absences, had called order some ten minutes ago. But nothing had been discussed or resolved as yet.

  I think he was waiting for the Chief Surgeon. Or another Surgeon to take control of things.

  I looked down at my hands clasped in my lap and blinked. There was a spot of blood on my wrist. Another on my flight suit. Dust and small pieces of 1982 dotted across my stomach and thighs. I should have changed. I was a walking advertisement for post-apocalyptic society.

  And I hadn’t even told them about 23rd Century RATS.

  The other RATS. Not this one. Because try as I might, I couldn’t make the timeline work. If Winchester and I had returned to our RATS, this RATS shouldn’t be standing.

  But it was. Here we were. Minus Winchester and Jack. But we were standing. We were still here. So had Sergei Ivanov failed in his attempts to destroy us?

  Or was Time effed up beyond simple physics?

  “All right,” Fawkes said. “Let’s go over it one more time.”

  He looked at me. I shifted uncomfortably.

  “You said your initial flight didn’t end up in 1982 Japan?”

  I nodded, knowing where this line of questioning would take us and so not wanting to go there.

  “So, where did you end up?”

  I blinked at him. He stared back at me. Bryan was an American. A good old boy from Florida. I could picture him wrestling alligators down in the Everglades. His accent was soft and lulling; I could listen to him talk all day long. He had a temper, but it was laced with a keen sense of humour. Nothing much got Bryan Fawkes down.

  I liked him. As a person, not just as a Time Surgeon. He was handsome, in that all American way; had a close-cropped beard and short brown hair, accented by nice brown eyes. Sally was in love with him.

  I wasn't sure if Fawkes was in love with Sally.

  “Mouse?” he said.

  I met his eyes, and for a moment no one else existed in the room but Bryan and myself. It allowed me the impetus I needed to start talking.

  “I’m not sure,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Something went wrong. We crash landed. Winchester was out cold. Michael…”

  “Yeah,” Fawkes said when it was clear I couldn’t say more. “Michael didn't make it.”

  I nodded and stared down at my hands again.

  “Then what, Mouse?” Fawkes asked.

  “We’ve been over this,” I said. “I hit the Return.”

  “So she says,” a snide female voice muttered.

  My eyes came up and connected with the superior gaze of Jessica Harding; Intern and bitch extraordinaire.

  “I hit the Return,” I repeated.

  “But you sure as hell didn't return here,” Harding snapped. “So, forgive us if we don't believe you.”

  “Enough, Jess,” Fawkes said, but his reprimand was gentle. Not commanding. Fawkes agreed with Harding.

  “I did hit the Return,” I said. “Ask Winchester.” That’s if Winchester backed me and that would be debatable.

  “Winchester isn’t here, though, is he?” Harding sneered.

  Fawkes sighed. “OK. OK. Enough.” He sounded tired. Weighed down and weary. “You hit the Return but didn’t come back here. So where, Mouse?”

  “The onboard computer confirmed we had returned to RATS in the 23rd Century. To our Reset Date,” I said, using Dean’s term in an attempt to sound more knowledgeable. More believable.

  “But you didn't return here,” Fawkes said again.

  “Not to here. No,” I confirmed.

  “Then where?” he asked, sounding frustrated.

  I wished Winchester was here to corroborate this and that was saying something.

  “Bloody hell,” Harding hissed. “She’s lying. Can’t you see that? And poorly, too. Can’t even think up a good lie to cover her tracks. For a Lunik spy, you’re pathetic.” The last was spat in my direction.

  “Check the onboard computer,” I said.

  “But we can’t do that either, can we?” Harding practically yelled. “Because ORION 3 IS NOT HERE!”

  I bit my lip and stayed quiet.

  Fawkes scrubbed the back of his head and then wrapped his hand around his nape and stared at nothing.

  “OK,” he said. “Afterwards, you said you did arrive in 1982. At your original destination. Because Winchester had hit the Return this time. That doesn’t make sense.”