The time traveler paced back and forth in front of the monitor, which showed a meager settlement in a clearing near the woods. People rushed back and forth between tents, unaware of the ship hiding high up in the clouds. The time traveler had been sent here to observe the situation, but the more he watched the people trying to survive in such a harsh environment, the more and more he wished he could do something to help. As he watched, he saw a large group approaching from the north. He zoomed in on them.
"New Canton Army, it would seem," he said to himself. Helplessly, he watched as the approaching army attacked the small settlement. Then he noticed another group moving in. "What the hell?" He focused on the incoming group and saw that they ran in a tight formation, all wearing the same blue jumpsuits. A couple figures moved toward the front, carrying what looked like a rocket launcher. He watched as the rocket was fired into the midst of the battle for the settlement. The rocket tore through the concrete wall that acted as a barricade protecting the tents from the outside world like it was paper. The new group moved as one, swarming the settlement as well as the New Canton army. As the traveler watched, he realized something seemed off. He zoomed in as far as his ship's camera would allow, and gasped at what he saw. The new arrivals had a distinct gray tint to their skin and many of them had large gaping wounds on their faces and torsos. The traveler realized that this was an army of THE UNDEAD.
He rushed to the console and activated the comm system. The screen flickered and the image of the settlement, now consumed with flame, was replaced by the image of an old man in velvet robes. "What is it, Maestro?" the old man said, his voice croaking and rasping with age.
"I am at the temporal coordinates which I was assigned. The settlement has been attacked and destroyed, both by enemy attack and by the undead which plague the planet. Please, you have to let me do something to help them. There must be something we can do!"
At first, the old man seemed unmoved by the request made of him by the Maestro. "You have taken an oath of noninterference. This point is fixed. There is nothing we can do."
"Please sir," implored the Maestro. "There must be a way to help give them a fighting chance. Even if the attack cannot be prevented, isn't it worth saving the people? There are so few living humans left on this planet. We must save the ones who can be saved!"
The old man stood silent for a moment. After some thought he looked up and said, "Maestro, your compassion for the humans is one of your strengths. You have not always acted wisely, but you have always had good intentions. We will consider it. If there is something that can be done, we will let you know. We will contact you in a few hours with our decision."
"Thank you," said the Maestro excitedly. The screen went black as the old man terminated the connection. The Maestro left the bridge to head to his quarters. He needed his rest, but he doubted he would be able to sleep much.