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12
Hello, Mr Anderson
Jack
IttooklongerthanI wanted to organise myself. I hadn't slept well since the concussion, so exhaustion was hounding me hard. I also needed to find out as much as I could about what Anderson was up to through RATS' computer system before I played my hand. Once the Chief Overseer knew I had access — and not just any access, but backdoor, administrator access — he'd either lock down the system completely or, more likely, stop using it himself.
For now, I had a way to observe his actions to a certain degree without him being any the wiser. And what I saw worried me.
Mimi hadn't been exaggerating when she said Anderson lacked any real understanding of time travel. I'd noted a decided lack of understanding when I'd skimmed the reports earlier; when Mimi had still been here with me. But now I dug deeper into the heart of each one. Information was vital, and I intended to inform myself. Anderson's reports to Parliament were woefully lacking in anything significant to the maintenance of Time itself. There were an awful lot of staff assessments and observations; most of which appeared to be little more than personal opinions on our lack of order and discipline. And more reports detailing the financial situation at the Academy, which the PM's office would already have access to no doubt but, with Anderson's snide comments included, painted a much more disastrous outlook for us.
Some of Anderson's accusations were perhaps a little on the nose but, unfortunately, some were accurate. Wehadlost six Orions to theft; a theft performed right before our very eyes. One, Anderson believed was preventable, which meant Bryan Fawkes' death was also preventable, and we, the entirety of RATS, had failed in our duty to a fellow Surgeon and to Parliament itself. The Overseer's scathing comments on that particular event had me wanting to hit something, which in turn had my blood pressure skyrocketing, which in turn was not good for my head.
After reading that report, I had to use the med-device Mimi had left me again to ensure a burst blood vessel hadn't been missed in her first assessment. I also risked taking more paracetamol, which meant when I did catch up on some sleep, my dreams were much too vivid and, in some cases, entirely too real for my liking.
I woke in a sweat, my limbs tangled in the sheets, my skin much too sensitive to their touch, the taste of Mimi still on my tongue, the feel on her all over my body. A cold shower helped. The knowledge that my dreams were still of Mimi and still of a relatively innocuous sensual nature rather than a deadly one helped even more.
Mimi hadn't mentioned her last flight with Bryan, but I read their reports. Both of them had been grounded because they had fought their Flight Overseer's instructions not to exit the MPCV. Bryan even going so far as to risk a rupture of Time to make his point. Sergei got what he came for in 1958 because they'd been impeded. Anderson reacted to the insubordination, as was to be expected. And Time slipped enough for Mimi and Bryan to notice an indefinable change on their return to RATS.
What that change would mean for our future, I didn't yet know. But at least my prophetic dreams were still of Mimi, in bed, wrapped around me in every conceivable, delicious and erotic fashion.
Anderson and, by extension, the Prime Minister were playing with Time. The consequences of which could be disastrous.
And then there were the flights being performed right now. I saw one take off while I scoured the system for Anderson's actions. A naturally occurring rip in 1914, Europe. A recalcitrant time period, if ever there was one. We often had to return to then or 1939.
As yet, Sergei had not attempted another snatch and grab, but from what Mimi and Bryan had written in their flight reports, and the lack of obvious changes to RATS in our time, it was likely he would need to do so again. He'd got something on that last trip. Maybe just a location and time to try again. But whatever it was, it wasn't enough to give him control of time travel and RATS.
My guess was Sergei knew when and to where he would be flying next. Unfortunately, Anderson did not consider this an issue until a rip occurred and could be remade after the Russian did whatever he had to do to that particular time period.
It absolutely horrified me that Anderson wasn't in the slightest bit worried about man-made rips. He considered them as dangerous — that is to say, not dangerous at all — as naturally occurring ones. Easily fixed with a quick trip back in Time and a safe remaking of said time from the security of theinsideof an Orion module.
No one was to exit a Vehicle wherever possible. Only flights to fix rips were permissible. Nothing was said about our missing Orions or the missing Interns. Everything was to be minimised for cost-effectiveness until a more profitable way of utilising our staff and equipment could be devised.
And that left me where I was today. Twenty-four hours after Mimi had left me. Feeling somewhat physically improved, definitely better fed and rested, and yet mentally and emotionally exhausted at everything I had read coming from the office of Chief Overseer to the Royal Academy of Time Surgeons.
The man was an imbecile. A dangerous one. Because he was allowing Sergei Ivanov to win the race and he, who won the race, won Time. If he didn't destroy it first, of course. There was such potential for that. But as Bryan and Mimi had found out, any opposition to what the Chief Overseer was attempting to do at RATS was considered insubordination at best and treason at worst.
I could see the writing on the wall. One more step out of line by Mouse or Fawkes, and they would be facing the wrath of Parliament and not simply the wrath of some small-minded idiot in search of his own well of power to draw on.
I was worried. I couldn't stop thinking about how easily Anderson had dealt with Clive. The Chief Surgeon at RATS had, of course, not helped matters. Being out of time was a one-way trip to the exit. Please close the door on your way out. Which in turn had me worrying about Mimi. As yet, though, Clive's efforts in the system had kept prying eyes off Mimi Blossom Wylde's appointment to RATS and the staff's efforts at not mentioning her Time status had ensured Anderson had not yet discovered that little tidbit of information.
I took a moment to look into what Jessica Harding and her cohorts were up to. Not everything was easily obtained by reading reports, however. I had to spend some time running through security footage of what the woman and her lackeys had been doing. I saw the confrontation between Bryan, Mimi and Jessica in the hallway outside of Dispatch. I saw the hesitation in her eyes.
But I also saw her mounting frustration and hatred. Jealousy had always been a close friend to Jessica Harding. I didn't believe she had changed her stripes because of one conversation with Fawkes and Mouse.
But there was nothing I could do about that and so much I had to do to save RATS and Time. I was fairly impotent if I remained under guard in my room. I could have forced my way out, using the ancient pistol Bryan had loaned me. But that would have me skulking about in the shadows and in danger of actual arrest and imprisonment off-site. I needed to be released from house arrest officially, and the only way to do that was to play Anderson's game by his rules for now.
It amused me, and also didn't come as any shock at all, that I found evidence of Mimi andhercohort doing just that. I noted a presentation Miss Groves had given to Anderson, commercialising existing footage of past flights; packaging them up in a promotional clip, with historical references and pertinent snippets for entertainment and educational purposes attached. The proposed recipients of these rather well-done videos and associated notes were documentary producers and educational facilities, not to mention the movie industry itself. Actual contemporary footage of locations and people and well-known events in Time would be priceless to those wishing an accuracy, which is difficult to obtain in today's market.
The package Miss Grove put together for the Jurassic Period was simply ingenious. I had a newfound respect for the mousey Miss Groves, but I also couldn't help seeing Mimi's hand all over the project. Anderson had jumped on it, sent the examples already made off to Parliament, claiming the credit for himself, of course, and instructed Groves to start on further packages immediately. He'd even given her permission to pilfer assistants from the Novitiate ranks.
Mimi had ensured the — until now unprofitable — Novitiates would be safe.
I also noted, when I decided to check, that she had also ensured Dean Jordan was on the new-build programme for additional and much-needed Orions, and that Rafe, who was currently without a Flight Surgeon, had made himself useful in Dispatch. Rafe, who would think dispatching flight crews to rips he couldn't fly to himself was as boring as watching paint dry, had now become an integral part of Dispatch while Miss Cockburn was under lock and key.
He'd always been a fast learner, I thought wryly. Shame he was a lazy one and hadn't sat his Surgeon's exam yet.
I couldn't be sure, but I thought perhaps Rafe's placement in Dispatch was for other reasons as well. Namely, eyes on Anderson. Jordan in the hangar would be able to keep an eye on what the Chief Overseer was inflicting on Cathcart, the Head of Flight Engineering. In a single day, perhaps two, Mimi Wylde had locked down access to two key areas of Anderson's domain and secured vital numbers of an inconsequential — according to Anderson — group of RATS' staff for any potential rebellion action.
