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"Wait a minute," Anderson said. "Who is this?" He was looking at Fawkes.
"Bryan Fawkes," Fawkes said. "Surgeon."
"Bryan Fawkes is dead."
"Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated," he misquoted.
"No, they haven't," Anderson argued. "I saw the footage."
"The rip is unstable, sir," Margaret tried.
Anderson whirled on her. "It's called time travel, Dispatcher. We can therefore travel to any time we wish."
"Not before the rip tears Time apart, we can't," Bryan drawled. "And certainly not if we dawdle here," he added.
"We should be in the hangar already," I said, adding my efforts to Bryan's and momentarily pleased to see the dispatcher in on the act as well.
She handed me to coordinates and said, "Orion 2b is ready, ma'am."
Bryan's Orion. He jerked when she said it.
"That's who you are," Anderson was saying. "You're a duplicate from another universe."
"Yep, and a highly qualified one," I offered. "Mr Anderson, that rip is unstable. We need to fly."
"Get another flight crew," Anderson ordered the dispatcher.
"Now, hold your horses," Fawkes said, as Margaret replied, "Yes, sir. But it will take some time to wake them. It's the middle of the night and flight crews are notoriously difficult to wake from their beauty sleep."
I smirked at her. She valiantly didn't wink back at me in turn.
"Anderson," I snapped, drawing his attention.
"That's Mr Anderson to you, Intern."
"Then it's Dr Wylde to you, Mr Anderson. I earned my Ph.D, thank you very much. And that rip is at a location and time that almost every single flight crew except this one has already been."
"There is no rule saying a flight crew cannot be at the same time and location as a previous incarnation of themselves," he argued.
"But there are risks," Bryan offered. "And right now, Time is jumpy. You could send a crew and lose 'em to my universe. Never see them or the Orion again. We don't mess with Time, Mr Anderson, we fix it. And right now, that rip needs fixin'."
Anderson stared at us both and then turned to the dispatcher.
"Do you vouch for them?" he demanded.
I held my breath. Margaret's eyes flicked between me and Bryan and back again. She swallowed thickly and then nodded her head. I let my breath out as silently as I could manage.
I didn't think it was us that had garnered the newbie's loyalty, despite how helpful she'd been tonight; we'd barely spoken two words with each other before this evening. All the credit was probably due to Amanda. That woman instilled confidence and loyalty in everyone. Even fearful newbie dispatchers put on the spot by arsehole overseers.
And then he proved just what an arsehole he was.
"Then I will hold you personally responsible, Dispatcher. If they so much as put a foot wrong, you'll be arrested along with them."
"Hey now," Bryan said. "No need for threats."
"Get flying,Doctor." I didn't think Anderson thought much of the RATS staff calling themselves 'Doctor' right then.
But I also didn't wait around to find out what he actually thought of us. We had permission to fly. An Orion to fly in. And Sergei Ivanov to hunt down and possibly maim or kill or, at the very least, knee in the balls to ensure he couldn't father any children.
And then I entered the hangar and saw who was waiting to fly with us.
Mr Black, or was it Blue? It might have been Magenta, I couldn't tell. And none other than Grumpy 3.0, who had clearly been given a break from babysitting —read 'perving on' — Novitiates as they sleep.
This was not going to be a fun flight through Time. But then, when was it ever when Sergei Ivanov was ripping it apart?
