Doctor C. Deth (as it reads on her name plate) is sitting in her office, looking over the medical files on the people she's expecting soon. The stylus switches records, and she makes some notes. Looking over at the cooler cabinet against the wall, she visually confirms she has all the innoculations she needs for the new recruits.
This was the first time Infinity had decided to let her out of the main offices since she got recruited 6 months ago. Her mastery of English had come along well, and her knowledge of medicine and genetics had impressed the local doctors.
No wonder she'd ended up on a team with several gengineered people, they'd need someone who understood how the recruits had been built to make sure nothing unexpected went wrong.
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Mei never is found in her office where she should be working on some boring report nor is she found anywhere on Infinity grounds. She must be what she is. Most men here are so boring. No power, no secrets, no imagination. Dancing for them is like eating a sparse salad for five days straight when all you want is steak dinner. "Where is the meat? Where are the real men?" she wonders to herself. When would one of the Infinity staff come yank her from the stage with either a look of lust and want or anger and disgust and tell her it was time once more for a mission where she might once more deal with men.
Amos is in his barracks area with a full table all to himself. Before him lay a disassembled beauty, a fantastic piece of weapons engineering, the SVLK-14 Sumrak (Twilight) rifle. With precise setup and detailed knowledge of the shot route, the weapon was capable of putting a round within one square meter at over 4.2 km. Amos never saw the point in firing that far out unless the target was stationary, which his targets never were. At that range it took over 12 seconds for the bullet to reach the target. No, he used the rifle at much more sane distances of less than 2 km. He also usually carried a more standard issue assault rifle and pistol side arm just in case, but this was his baby.
He chatted with some of the other soldiers in the barracks as he worked. Most were from Homeline. Nearly all are special ops. Amos himself was the new guy and the atmosphere was a little unstable. He had yet to prove himself.
Iban, a tall thin Hindustani man, stands in front of the mirror checking his suit, for the third time. ’you are delaying, this is not acceptable behaviour’. His Psychologist, Dr. Hong, had released him for field duty, all that was left to be was a passing score on the pistol course.
’Remember what Amos told you ”Just wait till after the fight to panic” he stepped out of his apartment and locked the door behind himself, he only checked to make sure it was locked once. It was dorm room than an apartment really, he could have requested off base housing but being a person was new to him, he unconsciously felt the italian 80/20 wool/silk blend of his hand tailored jacket there were advantages to his new life that was certain, and he didn’t have to pay rent or buy groceries, Maybe someday but today he would pass the last hurdle to field duty.
. As he headed for “Hogan's Alley” he tried to focus past the upcoming test to the evening it was movie night, Rapid Rage 6 or something of that sort. It was likely that the bombastic British man would be there, but at least he has stopped referring to Iban as Raj. He did look like he could wrestle a tiger, but I don’t believe he actually did’
Thom sits in the break room sipping his morning coffee and casually leafing through the manual for an outdated portable parachronic unit that falls within his security clearance.
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Each of you receives the call to meet in the staging area, where you are issued period clothing for the late 19th century. Dr. Pearson, your project liaison, awaits you for the briefing.
"Okay, as you've probably noticed, you're heading for a historical echo on Quantum 6, which we call 139 Minus. You'll touch down outside of London, England, local time 1900 hours on Friday, September 28, 1888. We have reason to believe that Centrum may have a team in place to force a shift to Q8.
"The most obvious divergence point would be altering the murders committed by Jack the Ripper and we suspect that is exactly what Centrum is attempting to do. The next victim discovered will be Elizabeth Stride, at approximately 1 am on September 30 at Dutfield's Yard, off Berner Street. Catherine Eddows' body will be found at 0145 am in Mitre Square. Given the distance between these two points, it seems unlikely that the second murder was committed following the first.
"Your job is to ensure that the murders occur as scheduled and as history prescribes. If something goes wrong, you'll have to do it yourselves, I'm afraid. Oh, and one more thing. You absolutely must NOT learn the true identity of the Ripper. That could possibly trigger a reality quake that could result in Homeline shifting quantums!
"Your primary objective is to locate and stop the Centrum team from whatever they are planning. Secondary objectives are to protect the identity of the Ripper and to make sure that the murders happen on schedule and as history dictates. Now then, any questions?"
The asian doctor with C. Deth on her nametag raises a hand. "You do realize, of course, that I have no intention of killing anyone except in self defense? This was explained quite plainly when I agreed to work with your organization. I believe they called it a 'hypocritic oath' and that it was acceptable for a medical professional to have such restrictions. Now, beyond that, I have no issues stopping these Centrum folks, and if they attack me, I have no ethical issues with killing them. However, until that happens, I will not assist with any killing, and will discharge my duties as a healer should I come across any who need it, again as I declared previously to your company." Her words are English, but oddly accented. "Now that that is out of the way, what capsules are you handing out to us in case I need to alter my appearance?"
Following the doctor’s lead Iban raises his hand ”I am passably aware of “The Ripper” i believe one of the theories is that the cuts were so precise that they had been done by a surgeon, we might need you to recreate the injuries. I am not conversant with the oath you swore but many legal systems recognize the right to self defence, that a reasonable response to a threat is allowed. The survival of one of these subjects could cause a reality quake, it would seem that killing might be reasonable in this case.”
He pauses and looks around the room ”The self-defense laws of modern legislation build on the Roman Law principle of dominium where any attack on the members of the family or the property it owned was a personal attack on the pater familias and also on biblical sources…” his voice trails off and he sits back down.
C'Deth frowns, and then reaches into her pocket, and pulls out a quarter. "This is how it was taught, in Ethics of Professionalism." She shows the quarter, and then flips the quarter into the air, very high. "Echo's create when events happen differently. Infinite echos just created were, by coin. Where land on hand, land on floor, land on Iban's head, land on edge, come up heads, come up tails.." She catches the quarter in her hand. "Coin is now in hand, infinite echos collapse into each other, and only echoes exist be where coin is head, coin is tail, where I palm coin, where coin has two heads, or two tails, or is 'bus token', not quarter, where quarter was 1975 quarter, where quarter was minted Denver, where was made 2015. Still infinite, but many fewer infinite."
She opens her hand, and shows the quarter, it's face up, with 2011 on it. "Now, there is one echo, all other echo's collapse. By opening hands, I have murdered entire universes, by collapsing echos. This happens all time, and I have no control over it, even trying to do nothing creates echos which collapse. Only thing we can control, is how we choose to act. In all the infinite echoes, and all the infinite Quanta, only thing we control is who we are, and how we live. If try to make decisions based on 'what might happen to quanta', then you are taking first step to being monster who not worthy of soul. I will not become a monster, will not choose to kill one or trillions, on what might be. I will only kill on what will be, when others try to take my life. As a healer, I heal those who need to be healed. A child, an animal, Ghandi, Hitler. The only control I have in life is what I choose to do, and I will not discard my oath as a doctor on what might be's. It is a very small step from what might be to what could be better to what could be to what is good for friends to what is good for me. I will not take the first step on the road to killing for personal gain. If you wish to make that decision, to sell your soul for what might be, that is your decision. You cannot make that decision for me. It is not about law, it is about truth, and the wholeness of the soul. Shred your own soul, my soul is mine, and I will keep it whole."
Amos stands at ease. This was going to be tough. They needed more intel. Either that or sit and wait for them to act first, which he never liked.
Have they attempted this kind of thing before? They may have a MO we can form a rough plan around.
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Pearson half-smiles at C'Deth's commentary. "I would expect no less of you, given your record. It does present an ethical conundrum, so I presume that you will all do your best to ensure that events play out as intended. In answer to your question, Mr. Anders, Centrum has attempted to force shifts in the past, but with varying degrees of success. We know precious little about what they plan, but the most logical move would be to stop or otherwise prevent the Ripper from completing the task at hand. We have confirmed that there are four members of their team--two women and two men--and that they are in London. We will provide you with descriptions of them, but bear in mind that they may well be disguised.
"Remember, the Secret must be preserved at any cost. Centrum knows this as well and won't risk any of the locals finding out."
Thom considers several scenarios and then asks, ”what about extra murders?”
When surprised eyes turn his way, he clarifies, ”You’ve determined that failure to have one of the murders carried out is sufficient to cause a shift but would a third murder be within tolerances or would that cause a shift as well? Say, for example, we have to replicate one of the murders; would we have to also ensure that the real ripper didn’t choose an additional victim?”
"There is no need to be concerned, good doctor," says Ezekiel. He had been silent since arriving at the staging area, standing behind the rest of the agents. His accent is strange and difficult to place--it sounds almost like an American affecting an English accent, though his words never falter. He half-smiles as he talks, careful not to show any of his teeth. "There are those of us who do not have any souls at risk. Should murder need to be done, we will be able to do it."
The door bursts open midway through a sentence with the massive, barrel-chested figure of Sir Humphrey. The English gentleman appears to had been in a rush, as his face is coloured in deep red, seemingly both due to haste and shame. "Horrible! Simply horrible!", he shouts out as he moves into the room with a slight limp. Dressed in a well-pressed suit, he is by and large the one mostly fitting in. "I humbly beg for your forgiveness, regarding my late arrival, ladies and gentlemen.", he adds, quickly ducking under a table with surprising grace for a man his size.
"I do greatly beg your pardon, Dr. Pearson. I must confess I started postulating on the... nature of sociopathy and I didn't quite realise I missed the train of time.", he chuckles, glancing up. Clearing his throat, he ruffles his moustache at C'Deth. "Yes, of course, both the lady and the gentleman undoubtedly raise excellent moral quandaries, which must be observed." He pauses to take a breath, then clears his throat.
Putting a hand on his sizeable facial hair, he crosses two tree-trunk sized arms. "My personal opinion as a Gentleman of the Crown is that if the situation was different, I would not idly stand back as the very denizens of London are being murdered. However!", he shouts in his bolsterous voice, "the defense of the very realm is at stake!", he slams one hand into the other with a loud clap.
"Bah!", Sir Humphrey shouts out as the needs are breached. "My dear Thomas, by means of exclusion, if we are to stop Centrum, then history will be rectified to its rightful conclusion! Sinister foreign plots in the centre of London... Goodness forbid!", he shakes his head. "And if we are to fail in this objective, then and only then shall we commit ourselves to consider performing such a perverted task.", he says.
"Dr. Pearson, if I might bend your ear?", he continues. "Quite naturally, I believe I would be able to blend into London in the late 19th century better than most, as provincial and poor as it may be in that Quanta.", he asks. "Those yellow-backed Centrum agents - Might you possess evidence as to at least when, if not where they might've infiltrated?"
"Which is why I do not risk my soul, for once it is gone, it is a life's effort to rebuild it." At Smythe's posturing, she simply ignores him, until and unless he says something she finds worth comment on.
what on earth have I gotten myself into... field tech, they said... a nice, relatively cushy position operating and maintaining 'parachronic' equipment in the field... and now here I am responsible for this 'team'... this is going to be like herding cats... cats from different planets...
"We know who they're most likely after, Sir Humphrey, if we can find those women first then Centrum will come to us," Thom answers, "and of course, C'Deth, you won't be required to murder anyone, although we may require your help in staging a corpse if we fail to stop Centrum directly."
"Dr. Pearson, do we have a residence for either woman, or any actionable intel to point us in the right direction on arrival?"
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Mei saunters in wearing a most revealing outfit in the middle of a long debate about murder and Mei leans in over Sir Humphrey's ear lightly blowing on it as she presses lightly against his back saying in a purr there are so so many better ways of dealing with or distracting someone. I am sure we can do better then murder.
Amos stays silent. His CO was asking all the right questions. He didn't particularly like that an Air Force lightweight was the one with rank here, but at least he wasn't directly tied to a civvy command.
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"We feel that if you are required to "create" a murder, it will be because the real Ripper has been eliminated from the picture. However, it is our profound hope that you will stop Centrum before it becomes necessary to fill in, as it were. As for where Centrum might be, the only thing we can be certain of is that they were spotted in Whitechapel by one of our agents about 2 days ago. They are staying in a rented flat near Mitre Square, where Ms. Eddows body will be found at 0145 on the 30th of September, in less than 36 hours.
"Ms. Eddows resides late at Cooney's Lodging House, 55 Flower and Dean Street. Ms. Stride keeps a home at 32 Flower and Dean Street."
C nods, and then tilts her head. Since the man had not answered her about what vials had been put aside, she walked over to the supply stack and checked to ensure she had a surgery kit, and to see what supplies of preserved genetic material she'd been given.
Thom looks around at the now quieter members of the team.
this is going to be... interesting...
"Alright," he announces when it seems there are no more relevant questions being asked, "you all heard the man- ten minutes to change and grab any mission-approved personal items you need and then we fire up the parachronic reactor."
He quickly changes into a smart gray suit with a black waist coat. Then, he downloads some maps onto his palmtop, and hides it in an inside waistcoat pocket.
C begins to strip, leaving the jumpsuit on the table. Taking a black and patterned cheongsaem, she slides into it, and adds a pair of short healed shoes that match. Her body is covered with elaborate tattoos. They are covered up by the black and patterned outfit. She opens the slit along the side, and adds a thigh holster and slips a 357 magnum into the holster, letting the dress conceal it. Her hair begins to grow out, until it's mid back length, more appropriate for the destination. She spends a few seconds putting it up into a bun, and jabbing some sharp metal needles though the bun to hold it in place (and act as weapons should she need them).
Checking the vials, she finds two heavy worlder samples (male and female), a wolf vial, a hound vial, a python vial, a rattlesnake vial, two Ranger vials (male and female), a black bear sample, and four vials of Alpha human samples (2 male, 2 female). She places the samples into a thigh strap designed to hold bullets.
She then puts a few samples (python, bear, rattler, hound, and two alpha samples) into darts, and hands the dart gun to Mei. "If I need to alter appearance, you may need to shoot me at a distance. Ensure you check the dart you fire."
She then spends the rest of her prep time memorizing the maps of London, the background information on the local political structure, names of notable notables, and any other data in the backbround. She leaves her wrist comp behind.
"Can you provide paperwork from China, indicating I'm an atache, having diplomatic immunity might be useful. Also, a jade seal of office, in case I have to interact with the Chinese Consulate in London."
Amos thinks for a moment. The Winchester 1886 hasn't made the jump to smokeless powder yet then. Ok. I'm going to need a Gewehr 88 with the M/88 stripper clips. It hasn't been re-bored yet so I won't be as accurate as I could be, but that model should still give me some range without a scope.
He quickly changes into a simple, understated suit with long overcoat and a bowler hat. No use in pretending I'm not American. I guess I'm returning from a business trip to inspect the new German bolt-action offering.
Iban stands and clears his throat, trying to get everyone’s attention, ”I am able to establish a mind link with any members of the team. However it requires a level of intimacy and trust I may not have yet earned.” he looks at the rest of the team awkwardly for a while before heading over to Humphrey.
”Pardon my presumption Sir Worthington-Smythe, but I was thinking if you were to adopt the disguise of a regimental I could easily pass as your stuart.” As he gives the big man a moment to think about it he goes to the to the weapons locker and selects a Military service .455 Webley revolver, the placard on the box indicates that this MK IV was not in wide until use 1899 that it should be passable as early as early as 1886, he nods, lifts out, and closes the era appropriate wooden case containing the revolver, cleaning kit and 30 rounds. As he is stepping away from the locker he pauses for a second before grabbing a bull whip and heading over to the wardrobe rack.
"I doubt taking one that is re-bored would be an issue. Even if you lose it, it would be within the technology base for the era, you could have had it re-bored privately." C says, having a basic knowledge of general firearms, if not the specific knowledge of era weapons that Amos has. "Did your people not have scopes in that era? Even primitive scopes are better than none..."
Amos conceders C's suggestion. There is a 1mm difference in the barrel length, but that shouldn't be noticeable. It is also compatible with standard 8mm if I can get it made from more modern materials.
As for the scope, glass optics were a bit sketchy back then, but I could pack one for good measure. I'll need to find somewhere to zero it in once we're there.
As the Geisha leans on Sir Humphrey's shoulder, the Englishman needs a moment to adjust to the shock. "Why, yes, indeed.", he harumphs, red flushing to his face for a quick moment, before turning back to normal. Why, witchcraft can be unbarbaric, it seems!, he chuckles to himself, before turning away as the Geisha undresses. Quite the provocatuer, yes.
"Yes, quite possible.", he nods. "I must clarify, however, that I have no background in that most brave of institutions, the British Army.", he says. "While I've had my fair share of scuffles with many foes, I find it rather distasteful to wear a uniform I hadn't earned." Crossing his hands once more, he raises an eyebrow. "However, if you and I were to assume a reasonable identity, we could easily pretend to be returning from an expedition on behalf of the Royal History Museum!" He harumphs. "Such agents would quite obviously be armed and well prepared for all matters of uncivilised whataboutery, coming from all walks of life." He begins stuffing his pipe further.
Having thought on it, C turns to Iban. "It is less about trust, than it is about secrets I may not share. Additionally, while it has been hinted at..." She looks at their handler....
"...I am not human, and my mind is not human. I am unsure exactly how your ability would interact with my mind, and you might find it... uncomfortable." She shrugs. "My brain's current configuration is biologically human, but functionally it is utterly alien. That is, the portion of a human brain that handles speech for humans is actually, in my case, part of my bio-feedback mechanism currently. You are as likely to find yourself being inundated by a real time deluge of information on my current blood pressure, glucose level, respiration rate, blood oxygen level, adrenaline level, blood protein levels, and other biological indicators than you are to be able to tell what I'm thinking, or vice versa."
Sounds like you could use an American hunter. It would give me an excuse to hang around you lot all the time. Amos jests.
Thom freezes like a deer in headlights when the two women simply strip in the staging room.
should I look away? I should look away... would that make it more awkward though? Smythe's looking away, I should probably look away... I know Mei uses her appeal as a weapon, but oh my gosh- that's one weapon I wouldn't mind getting taken down by...
His face suddenly goes flush and he seems to recover enough to grab himself an appropriate side arm as well. "Good thinking," he comments, "having cover stories in place ahead of time will save us from having to improvise. So, Iban will be Sir Humphrey's steward and Amos an American hunter he hired for his most recent excursion to, where, South Africa? I can be an American inventor... recently arrived in London from the orient where I was researching materials for a new light bulb. C'Deth, you can be my research assistant, and Mei... my mistress, I guess?"
Amos can't help but glance in the women's direction, but keeps it professional as best he can. These are his team mates, after all.
Iban looks to Thom and Amos, then to C'Deth and Mei, then back to the other men. He can't help but think there is something he is missing.
Amos notes Iban. Poor kid. There is gengineered, then there's straight up purpose built. I'm going to have to fix that at somepoint...
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such the gentleman Humphrey, what girl would not wish to take advantage of that. Thom, I see you looking. How sweet, a blush. Less then five women in your life up to this point or just not the right instructor in how to handle a woman? she says as she puts her hair back in the traditional bun and slides a couple of sharpened knives into her hair which are covered by thin bamboo sheaths. The only weapon she carries besides that is her mind and her body.
C looks up, raising an eyebrow at Mei, then looks at Thom, and nods. "Oh, facial capillary engorgement. Indicating either anger or embarrassment. Likely embarrassment, given the primitive sexual taboo's of the species. Relax, Agent Andrews, no one is going to proposition you for intercourse right now." She looks toward Mei. "Well, at least not right now for immediate interaction. I suggest you wait until, if, we return, and then you can be concerned about coital issues."
”no... I wasn’t... I mean...” Thom stammers.
well, this is off to a tremendous start... get your sh!t together and say a real sentence or nobody’s going to take you seriously as squad leader...
Taking a deep breath, he assumes a more military posture and answers, ”I’m never one to refuse lessons from an expert, in any field, Mei. If you’re offering instruction I’d be glad to learn under you”...or on top of you, or behind you, or wherever you like...”but C is correct, we better attend to the matter at hand first. And, actually, C probably won’t work as an alias, not with anyone who’s read anything about the orient at least... how about Zhi, or Feng?”
Still intently staring at the wall, Sir Humphrey lights up his pipe with a grin. "Bah!", he blurts out. "Do not confuse proper conundrum for one being foolish, my dear. Or easily taken advantage of.", he laughs out as he lets out a burst of smoke. "But a gentleman must gaze away as a lady is undressing herself, unless specifically invited. Else, we descend into barbarity, like the tribes of Amazonia, the New Guinea.", he shakes his head. "Or the French."
"I see no reason not to use the alias I was given for this appearance. Hōng Chou." She says quietly, choosing some appropriate jewelry for her assumed role. At Smythes words, she nods. "As I said, primitive taboos."
One might have expected Ezekiel, having been born in Massachusetts Bay Colony in the 1680s, to have been more effected by the state of undress of some of the squad; he is not. He makes no furtive glances nor does he attempt to avoid glancing in their direction. He picks an unassuming working class outfit, something that he senses would go relatively unnoticed in the time and place they are traveling to before he unceremoniously begins to change himself.
"I am willing to take on any role required," he says as he finishes changing. He is noticeably thin--it makes guessing his exact age a bit of a struggle, and he has a strange dark mark on his hip that anyone who glances in his direction probably notices; it looks like it might be infected. "I must admit, I am unfamiliar with our target. I assume that these women must have been rather important for their deaths to cause such resonance so far into the future. Were they relatives of the reigning monarch?"
"Mon père était un français, pour le compte rendu," he says upon hearing Sir Humphrey's comment about the French. "But we will be in London, of course, which I have grown to understand is the true heart of darkness."
Sir Humphrey harumphs once more. "Undoubtedly, my dear, they must seem so to you. Though, of course, if one is to foolishly over-analyse every and any belief system, they can easily be called upon as ridiculously outdated or outright unreasonable.", he puffs his pipe. "And what remains, then, is nihilism! The bane of all creation and reasonable thought. So, thus, one might argue that outdated and unreasonable views are what keeps us sane and creative, be we human, or else. For the alternative is to be consumed by our basest needs and desires." A thick cloud of smoke emanates from the large man's mouth. "I am not a gentleman for I know no alternative, no. I am a gentleman, for it is what I have chosen for myself!" Spinning the revolver in his hands, he places it in a holster on his belt.
"You misunderstand, Worthington-Smythe. Primitive is not judgemental, it is descriptive. It is a primitive view. That does not make it inferior, only primitive. A blowgun is primitive, that does not mean it is not effective. Primitive herbalism can be quite useful and effective, primitive blood letting much less so. Both are primitive, one is effective, one is not." C replies, looking the selection of shoes over, and going with a pair of bamboo and leather shoes that are sturdy and can pass for 'exotic stylish' while still allowing one to walk, run, or kick. Once complete, she takes a large colorful bag that can be placed over a shoulder, and is large enough to hold her first aid and surgical kits. "I am ready, when the rest of you are." She does not comment on the women who died, as she has no idea who they were or why it was important that they died.