The ARTEMIS rocked back and forth across time zones as it skirted around Kahler's sun. Large jumps in time were much easier than little ones, so Turlough was only half paying attention to the controls as he manipulated them. The rest of his attention was focused on the second bedroom, and more specifically, how its sleeping occupant would react when she discovered where and when they were actually going. As if sensing his stare, the door slid open. Juras took one look at him and her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"What have you been up to?" she demanded.
"What makes you think I've been up to something?" asked Turlough as innocently as he could muster (which honestly wasn't particularly innocent).
"You clearly haven't slept at all, and you look guilty," Juras accused.
"Not true," objected Turlough. And he was half-right: his face was well practiced at not looking guilty. But Juras wasn't looking at his face anymore; she was far more interested in the view screens. She frowned slightly, trying to recall why the approaching planet looked vaguely familiar. "Kahler," Turlough told her, since she'd find out eventually anyways.
"When?" asked Juras. Turlough turned his attention back to the controls, grinding to a fourth-dimensional stop while still moving towards the planet at the same speed. "Turlough," she insisted warningly.
"Until this moment any answer I gave would be meaningless," he pointed out. Under his breath he continued, "17,769."
"17,769?" Juras repeated, her voice growing louder with each syllable. "The year their war ended?"
"As ingenious as this vessel is, it's also relatively small, so there is no need to shout," replied Turlough. Juras sat on the control seat next to him. When she spoke again, it was in a much more pleasant and conversational—but somehow more frightening—tone.
"Why are we going to Kahler in 17,769?" she wanted to know.
"The Kahler were one of the most brilliant scientific races of all time," he explained. "Think of what they could have achieved had they not isolated themselves after the war. Over a century of self-imposed isolation from all other planets, and now we hardly spare them a thought: let alone think of them as technologically advanced."
"So you want to do what, exactly? Help them win the war?" Juras scoffed. "We're Imperial Clansmen: we don't fight wars. Turlough, you yourself faced exile rather than risk being forced to build weapons; and now you want to fight in a war that was won over a century ago? And even besides all that, you can't just go around changing history until it suits you. Time is not your playground!"
"Isn't it?" he countered. Then, collecting himself, he clarified, "What I meant was: we have the technology to alter time, so why not alter it for good? The Kahler have always been peaceful, scientific people, aside from this war; so I don't see how the harm could possibly outweigh the benefit in this case. And besides, it's not as though this is the first time we'll be altering history on a grand scale."
"Yes it is!" snapped Juras. Turlough rubbed his eyes. It was so easy to forget that Juras—this version of Juras—hadn't lived through those parallel realities; she never watched Trion turn into a charred, lifeless rock. "Turlough?" she asked softly, shaking him out of his haunting memories.
"Hm? Right, of course we haven't," he conceded, "but that doesn't make it wrong."
"You're thinking about it again, aren't you?" she deduced. Turlough opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by the Kahler docking station, requesting their landing authorizations.
"This is Trion, responding to the Kahler request for aid," Turlough replied, "Requesting permission to land." The Kahler on the other end went silent: presumably considering the validity of his statement.
"So Trion sent two young scientists to help them win a war that's ravaged their planet for almost a decade: is that the story we're going with?" Juras demanded. Biting back a grin, Turlough flipped a coin.
"Yes," he said, after checking the result of the coin flip. Then Turlough treated Juras to his most infectious smile. "Not scientists though," he amended, returning to the wheel. "Rather we're a reconnaissance party, sent to determine the extent of aid required."
"You've put a lot of thought into this," Juras observed. "So why is now the first I'm hearing of it?"
"Would you have agreed if I suggested it before now?" he challenged.
"Maybe," she said defiantly. Turlough raised his eyebrows incredulously. "One day you're going to have to start trusting me," Juras contended, rising from her seat. Turlough grabbed her hands, forcing her to meet his eyes.
"I do trust you," he told her sincerely. Juras didn't know what to say, so she just stared back at him until his cheeks reddened and he dropped his gaze.
"Our scans indicate your vessel contains two individuals and no weapons," the Kahler informed them over the radio. "Your claim is refuted by your lack of resources. Please remove your vessel from our airspace, or we will be forced to take military action against you."
"Kahler, we ask you to reconsider your decision," Turlough said. "We are two Imperial Clansmen of Total Science Knowledge of the Forty-Second Dynasty, Masters of Trion and the Eighteen Suns, Physical Rulers of the Galactic Core. We were sent to determine the type and degree of assistance that will be extended to you."
"And as you've seen, we have no weapons that could be used against you," Juras added. There was a long pause as the request was reconsidered. Off the mic, she added, "It would be the Forty-first Dynasty at this time."
"As if they're going to know!" Turlough retorted.
"Trion, you have permission to land," said the Kahler. And so, Turlough and Juras were taken by surprise when the ARTEMIS was hit by a missile soon after they entered the atmosphere.