The Time Funnel, a get smart fanfic

My Get Smart stories are set during the 1970s - after the original series but before the reunions. Max and 99 are married, Thaddeus is still the Chief, the twins are sometimes mentioned but seldom seen. In other words, not much has changed. Warning: Although much of the historic detail in this story is accurate, I have taken certain liberties here and there - ChrisR.

THE TIME FUNNEL

It was in the industrial section of the city so the Mooshey chocolate factory didn't seem out of place. Some of the more observant passers-by might have wondered about the armed guards that patrolled its grounds but the people in this part of town tended to mind their own business. They might have been surprised to learn that behind the dingy, dilapidated walls was a sparkling, state-of-the-art laboratory. A cluster of laboratories in fact. Each overseen by one of the greatest scientists of the day. Each an accredited genius. Each with a top secret research project deemed worthy by the government of its patronage.

All the labs were accessible from a single central corridor with a row of identical doors on each side. The last door, the one to the lab most recently occupied, was receiving the attention of a lone workman engaged in stencilling a name on it. When he finished he stood back to admire his handiwork The name read simply: DR. CANYON.

Inside, the lab was a hive of activity. Almost a dozen technicians swarmed around a large machine which dominated the room. Ironically, its construction had not taken as long as getting the name painted on the door. The machine was topped by a sort of tank-like turret with its "cannon" trained on a large platform in the center of the room - really just an area a few feet square raised about six inches above floor level.

Presiding over the organized chaos was Dr. Canyon herself, her precisely coiffed hair bobbing just above the collar of her immaculate white lab coat.

Nearby, on a high-legged stool sat Control Agent 99. By contrast, she was wearing a stylish pastel pink pantsuit jauntily accessorized with a leather shoulder holster containing her favorite red handgun.

Dr. Canyon examined the settings on one of the bank of wall-sized computers and made a note on her clipboard then turned back to continue their conversation. "I always look forward to your turn at guard duty, 99," she said in her clipped British accent. "In my line of work I don't often see too many other women."

"I know what you mean, Laurel," 99 answered. "Max is my partner and my husband and, as much as I adore him, between him and the twins, I don't get the opportunity for much girl talk."

"How old are they now?"

"Max'll be forty in Novenber," 99 replied, "and he's still so cute!"

"I meant the twins," Dr. Canyon said, choosing not to comment on the subject of Max's cuteness.

"Oh. Almost a year now. Time flies, doesn't it?"

A wry expression crossed Dr. Canyon's face. "Funny you should put it that way," she deadpanned. She responded to 99's quizical look by inclining her head toward the giant machine.

"Oh." 99 laughed. "For a moment I forgot where I was."

Suddenly a loud buzzer sounded, indicating that the lab's outer door was open.

"Someone's coming," 99 said. This was not unusual: Security at the facility was so tight that no electronic communication was permitted; all messages had to be delivered in person. Nevertheless, 99 took out her gun and listened intently. There was a burst of maniacal laughter, quickly stifled. 99 relaxed. "That's Max!" she said in a surprised tone. "The guards are frisking him." Also standard procedure: Only the lead agent on duty was allowed to carry a weapon into the lab itself. There followed a single guffaw. 99 glanced at Dr. Canyon. "He's ticklish," she added by way of explanation.

Dr. Canyon decided that she was learning altogether much more about Max than she had any desire to know.

After a few more moments the inner door opened and Max entered. "Hi, 99," he said. "Hello, Dr. Canyon."

"Mr. Smart."

"What are you doing here, love?" 99 asked. An agent with Max's seniority was not normally assigned to lowly messenger duty. "My shift isn't up for another hour and, anyway, I thought 62 had the next watch."

"There's been an emergency back at Control," Max explained, "and 62 can't be spared. The Chief wants you to take a double shift."

"Why? What's happened?"

"The softball game with the CIA went into extra innings and 62 is the pinch hitter."

"Who's watching the twins?"

"Well, 44 volunteered to stay with them this afternoon but I'll be going straight home when I leave here."

"That was nice of 44," 99 said. "He's very good with them and they seem to like him, too."

"Yes," Max agreed, "especially when he pops up out of that Jack-in-the-Box." Max surveyed the windowless, sterile-looking laboratory replete with its looming machinery. "What's all this?"

"That's right, you haven't been here before, have you, Max? Laurel, tell Max about your project. I'm sure he'll find it fascinating."

Dr. Canyon regarded Max doubtfully. "I assume you have a security clearance high enough to hear this."

"Are you kidding?" Max replied. "My clearance is high enough to hear things even the president doesn't know. Would you believe it? The president!"

"That is rather difficult to believe," Dr. Canyon admitted.

Max reconsidered. "Would you believe the vice-president?"

"Well, . . . "

"The janitor?"

"Even the janitor here has a level six clearance so I suppose I can tell you. I'm working on a method for chronometric displacement of personnel."

Max scowled, turning the phrase over in his mind. "Like a time machine?" he ventured.

"In a manner of speaking," Dr. Canyon replied. "Simply put, it creates a temporal vortex through which the subject can be drawn. I call it The Time Funnel."

"That's fantastic," Max said as the idea sank in. "You mean that people can actually travel through time with your device?"

"Technically yes, but," Dr. Canyon hesitated, "I wouldn't dare let people use it yet. I have no control over the displacement factor. I know that it works because the objects disappear but they could be stopping anywhere at any point in time and at present I am not be able to bring them back."

"That's fantastic, Doctor!" Max enthused. "I thought your invisibility spray was the most fantastic thing I'd ever seen, er, not seen. But this is just . . . " He struggled for the right word.

"Fantastic?" Dr. Canyon suggested. Max opened his mouth, closed it and narrowed his eyes at her as she and 99 exchanged amused glances. "How exactly does it work, Doctor?"

"Well, it makes use of the special properties of Sigma rays which I discovered last year during my research. This control panel releases the rays from those projectors overhead. The object or person to be transferred is placed on that platform and, when the rays reach the proper intensity, the displacement takes place.As it happens, I'm just about to conduct another test transportation. Would you care to observe?"

Max's face lit up. "Would I?" he exclaimed. He frowned. "Would I, 99?"

"I think you would, Max, yes."

"Max grinned boyishly. "Then I will."

Dr. Canyon's analytical eyes bounced back and forth between Max and 99. She concluded that despite all her scientific training there were still some things that she would never understand. "I can use anything as a test object," she said. "Do you, perhaps, have an object you would like to see travel into time? It will have to be something you don't need returned. Something you have no use for."

"How about Larabee?" Max suggested.

"Why do you talk about him that way, Max? You know Larabee is really a good friend of yours."

Max reflected on this for several seconds. "You're right, 99," he said finally. "It's just that I seem to like him a lot better when he's not here."

99 rolled her eyes and gave it up as a bad job. "I have an old compact in my purse," she said. "Will that do?"

"Perfectly." Dr. Canyon took the compact from her and carried it to the platform. She set it down. "Now, I said to you earlier, Mr. Smart, that I have no control over the displacement factor. Well, that is not entirely true. I can determine the direction of travel by bombarding the object with either positive Sigma rays for forward travel, that is, into the future, or negative rays for backward travel - into the past."

"Well, which do you intend to do now?" Max asked.

"The purpose of this experiment is to test my newest invention, the Transchronospectragraph." She pointed to another huge machine with a digital readout and the inevitable winking lights. "It's a sort of tracking device. I intend to give the object a massive blast of positive rays and then see how far into the future I can track it on this."

"What happens now?" asked 99.

"I merely press this button which feeds power to the Sigma ray projectors. The rest of the sequence is automatic."

Dr. Canyon pressed the button.

Max moved forward to observe more closely. "What does this do?" he asked, pointing at a particularly impressive bright red switch. There was a chorus of "Don't touch that!" from the technicians. Startled, Max backed away and bumped into a filing cabinet. Stumbling forward, he tripped over some trailing wires and slid along the floor, involuntarily cartwheeling onto the platform just as the machine began emitting a high-pitched whine. 99 plunged forward to catch Max, missed and landed on top of him.

And so it came to pass that Max and 99 were both on the platform in time to receive the maximum force of the Sigma rays. A bright yellow beam shot out of the turret, enveloping them; they glowed briefly and disappeared. The only sign that they had ever been there was 99's gun, lying abandoned on the floor just short of the platform where it had fallen during the scuffle.

The technicians looked at each other and then at Dr. Canyon.

"This is not good," she said.

Act I

Max and 99 tumbled head over heels amid total silence. They could see each other and the compact but there was nothing else but pitch black. The absolute cold of the void chilled their bones. They tried to speak but no sound emerged from their throats. Extending their flailing arms, their fingers finally touched and they contented themselves with continuing their plunge from nowhere to nowhere hands locked tightly together.

Life returned to Dr. Canyon's feet. She hurried back to the console and threw another switch. She beckoned to one of the technicians. "Tell the guards out there that I need to get a message to the Chief of Control. Tell him to get here as soon as possible."

Max and 99 fell out of the void heads first. Making use of her parachute training, 99 curled herself up into a ball and rolled gracefully to a stop. Max rolled gracefully into a wall. Both were unhurt, though, and stood up easily. As light and colour returned they picked themselves up and looked around.

"Where are we Max?"

"I'm not sure, 99. I guess we must be somewhere in the future."

"This is terrible!" 99 wailed.

"Try to look on the bright side, 99."

"What bright side?"

"You didn't lose your compact." Max bent down and picked up the small object which had landed at their feet.

"How could this happen, Doctor?" the Chief demanded, his gruff exterior in no way masking his personal anguish.

"I don't know; it happened so fast," Dr. Canyon replied. "They just sort of fell onto the platform."

The Chief nodded as if he should have expected it. "Never mind," he said. "Max was involved. I know how it happened. Do you have any idea where they are?"

"The correct term is 'when they are', sir."

"I'm in no mood to discuss semantics, Doctor," the chief responded sternly. "Do you have any idea?" he repeated.

Withstanding a gaze that would have wilted a lesser being, Dr Canyon considered her answer before speaking. "Well, according to the Transchronospectragraph, somewhere in the early thirty-second century. I still need to carry out further checks but at this stage that does seem to be accurate."

"Is there any way to bring them back?" This was of course the sixty-four dollar question so perhaps it was appropriate that the Chief had saved it until last.

"I had no plans to attempt retrieval this early in the program. We have done some preliminary work but the indicators have been mixed . . . " She hesitated.

"Go on."

"Well, on the one hand, the TCS has been able to lock strongly onto their bio-spectral signatures which is how we're able to track them."

"And on the other . . . ?"

"On the other hand, the residual Sigma radiation is dissipating more rapidly than I had anticipated which is resulting in a commensurate reduction in the stability of the vortex."

"You'll have to translate for me, Doctor."

"Without a stable vortex, retrieval may be virtually impossible."

Max and 99 walked hand-in-hand throught the deserted streets - at least they assumed that they were streets. Strange shaped buildings seemingly made entirely of a shiny metal towered on either side.

"This reminds me of a book I once read," Max remarked. "Only in that the time traveler traveled through time in the time machine."

"Max! I'm impressed."

Max looked hurt. "You don't have to sound so surprised, 99. I do know something about literature, you know."

"H.G. Wells would be proud of you."

"Who?"

This prompted a proprietorial smile from 99; somehow she found Max's consistency even in their current predicament very reassuring. "What time do you think this is?" she asked him.

"I don't know. My watch has stopped."

"That's not what I mean, Max.," 99 said. "And where are the people?"

"I don't know, 99. It certainly is quiet."

A deafening alarm began sounding; they could almost feel it bouncing off the walls.

"Except for that siren," Max added, yelling at the top of his voice so as to be heard over the din.

"I think it's some sort of alarm," 99 yelled back. "Our presence seems to have set it off automatically."

They retraced a few steps and the siren stopped, confirming 99's assessment.

"Everything we've seen seems to be working automatically," Max noted. "Transportation systems, maintenance systems. It's like the technology advanced to a tremendous degree and then the civilization that built them suddenly died out."

"This reminds me of a different book, Max. One about the end of the world. This is what it was like after the big one."

"The big one? What big one?"

"World War Three, Max. The H-bomb."

"Oh . . . that big one." Max looked around again with renewed appreciation. As he did, he saw the strange buildings disappear - along with everything else - as they were once again enveloped by blackness.

"This was unexpected," Dr. Canyon said. "Not only have they spontaneously resumed their motion, but they appear to have reversed their direction of travel - much like a yo-yo at the end of its string. They're now traveling into the past."

"Does that mean they're headed home?" the Chief asked hopefully.

"Unfortunately not," Dr. Canyon replied. "According to the TCS, they've already overshot the present but they are slowing down. Yes, they've stopped - " She adjusted one of the dials. " - in the 1930s."

Max and 99 again found themselves in a street scene. This one was at least populated yet, in its own way, no more cheerful than the one they had just left. People appeared to be wandering around aimlessly, their clothes old and faded. A few stared at 99's anachronistically bright attire but most looked away. One man had a sign reading 'Will Work For Food'. In the distance someone was singing mournfully, "Once I built a railroad now it's done . . . " A yellowing newspaper blew along the pavement bearing the headline: FDR DECLARES THE ONLY THING WE HAVE TO FEAR IS FEAR ITSELF.

99 shivered. "The Great Depression," she noted somberly. "It was well named."

"I know it's depressing me," Max said. "I can remember being a kid during the thirties. Funny thing, though."

"What's that?"

"It seems smaller."

"Here's a weird thought," 99 offered. "You could be playing hide-and-seek with your brother at this very moment."

Max grimaced. "I wish you wouldn't say things like that, 99."

"I'm sorry, Max. Am I making you homesick?"

"It's not that, 99. These time travel paradoxes are giving me a headache."

Feeling that her empty shoulder holster was at least partly responsible for the stares she was getting, 99 removed it and began looking for somewhere to discreetly dispose of it.

"How about in there?" Max suggested, pointing to where the Salvation Army had set up a makeshift donation depot.

"It's not exactly an appropriate item for a needy family," 99 replied skeptically.

"I don't know why you say that. They are an army after all."

99 tilted her head and frowned at him. Sometimes she wasn't sure if something Max said was supposed to be a joke. She shrugged and dropped the holster into the bin anyway. "Why not?"

They walked on, rounded a corner, and walked some more.

"You cad, sir!" Max turned around. The voice belonged to a tall man with a large black moustache and glasses, wearing a dark tailcoat and holding a cigar. He walked up to Max in a strange sort of crouching, loping fashion. Then he drew himself up, looking Max in the eye. This close, Max could have sworn that the man's eyebrows and moustache were painted on. "This is an outrage!" he continued with suitably theatrical gesticulation.

Max squinted at him. "What are you talking about?"

The moustachioed man pointed to a smaller, dark-haired man lying near the kerb in front of a parked car. "You bounder. I'm talking about this unfortunate scruff you just knocked down with your garish automobile. Rest assured, we shall be suing you for stiff compensation for his excruciating pain and unendurable suffering."

The unfortunate scruff in question raised an arm and saluted. "Hello, boss!"

Max stared at him. "He doesn't look hurt to me! Besides, this isn't even my car."

"Would you like to buy it?

Max started to look the car over but then caught himself. He shook his head as though to clear it. "Who are you?"

"Allow me to introduce myself," said the man. However, instead of doing so he handed Max a business card.

Max accepted the card and read the inscription: "E. F. Quirk?"

"I can see that you're a man of breeding. This luxury conveyance can be yours for one low cash payment no questions asked. And if that sounds good to you I can give you first dibs on some cheap lots of swamp land I'm trying to unload down in Florida. Lots of lots."

"E. F. Quirk?"

"You drive a hard bargain, sir. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll even leave all the wheels on - and I'll sweeten the deal with a pair of guaranteed genuine glass-look diamond earrings for your lady friend here. Just a buck ninety-five extra."

"This happens to be my wife!" Max protested.

"Well, you've got no one to blame for that but yourself. .Very well, keep the earrings for your wife and I'll throw in a little something extra for your lady friend." He waggled his eyebrows lasciviously.

"I'll call a policeman," 99 warned him indignantly.

"Good idea," Quirk snapped back. "And I'll call Frank Fleer and see if he's missing that stick of bubble gum you're wearing."

99's reply took the form of a scream - or, more precisely, a yelp. However, it was directed not a Quirk but at a new arrival, a man who had made the mistake of sneaking up behind her. She already had his arm in a judo hold (a recently adopted substitute for the reflexive punch which had laid Max out on more than one occasion) but released it as she was confronted by his cherubic face smlling at her from under a shock of flaming red hair

"You should be ashamed of yourself," she said as though speaking to a child, ruefully rubbing the spot on her derriere that he had apparently just pinched.

For answer, he produced what appeared to be a bicycle horn from his raincoat and honked it at her - twice.

"Friend of yours?" said Max to Quirk.

"I've never seen him before in my life!" Quirk asserted. "Have I, Wacky?"

Wacky's face suddenly became very serious and he shook his head gravely.

"Well, as long as you're in agreement," Max said, seemingly satisfied.

Quirk started to resume his spiel but was cut short when Max and 99 shimmered slightly, then vanished.

Wacky whistled wildly through his teeth and thrashed about with his free hand through the space where they had just been. The erstwhile road accident victim stood up and ran over to join in, adding a stream of incomprehensible chatter to the melee.

Quirk watched them, puffing calmly on his cigar. "That's the strangest thing I've ever seen," he said, although it was not clear whether he was referring to Max and 99's disappearance or the antics of his companions.

"They're on the move again," Dr. Canyon announced, "but their rate of transfer is again a little slower. The effect appears to be similar to that of a stone skipping over water."

"I thought you said it was like a yo-yo."

"These are only figures of speech, sir. Imprecise at best. The salient point is that their trajectory seems to have taken on a life of its own. One which we are powerless to control."

"We must be back in the future," Max said. "Everyone seems to be talking in some strange alien language."

"It's Italian, Max. And judging from the clothes the people are wearing, I'd say we're somewhere in the late fifteenth century." 99's shoulder holster had miraculously reappeared so she took it off again and this time dropped it unceremoniously into a nearby fountain. If it was going to keep coming back then it really didn't matter what she did with it.

The fountain was the centerpiece of a market place cluttered with stalls offering goods of every description from foodstuffs and livestock to jewelry and artwork. Buyers and sellers competed at high volume while music and dancing added a party atmosphere.

"No depression here anyway," 99 said.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that, 99," Max replied. He nodded toward a man on the other side of the piazza who, unlike his fellow citizens who all seemed to be caught up in the festivities, was seated alone on a doorstep with his head in his hands and a doleful expression on his face.

Max and 99 looked at each other and then walked over to him.

"I'm Maxwell Smart and this is my wife Mrs. Smart," Max began. "Are you in some sort of trouble?"

The man looked up at them. "Io sono Cristoforo Columbo. Ma perche e la sua moglie vestita in pigiama? E solo mezzo giorno."

"He says he's Christopher Columbus," 99 translated, her even tone suggesting that she didn't find this revelation to be particularly startling under the circumstances.

"I got that part, 99," Max said, annoyed. "Wait a minute. The Christopher columbus?"

"Si."

"He looks nothing like Gino," Max remarked.

"Max!"

"Listen, Chris, if you don't mind me asking, what are you doing sitting around here? Shouldn't you be off discovering something?"

"That's just it," Columbus lamented, "I've already sailed all around the Mediterranean and that-a show off Marco Polo has-a beaten me to China. There's nothing left to discover."

"But shouldn't you be sailing around the world by now?" Max persisted.

Columbus stared at him. "Around the world?" he repeated. He slapped his hand against his forehead. "Of course! The world she is round! Why did I not see this before? I shall sail the ocean blue and discover the New World! Let's see that-a bum Polo top that, eh?"

"That would be difficult," 99 footnoted drily, "Since he's been dead nearly two hundred years."

Columbus leapt to his feet. "I must make preparations immediately," he said excitedly. "I will need three ships. I shall name them the Nina, the Pinta and - " He turned to 99. "You, cara, what are you called?"

She blinked at him. "99."

A moment's silence. "I will think of something else." He turned back to Max. "Grazie, Signor Smart. You have given my life new purpose. How can I ever repay you?" He grabbed Max by the face and kissed him on both cheeks before letting go.

Visibly affronted, Max took a handkerchief from his jacket and swabbed his face with it. "Think of something else," he suggested.

The Chief watched as the display went through several cycles of what Dr. Canyon had characterized as 'skips and stops'. "That was fast," he commented. "It must be very disorienting for them."

"Not necessarily," Dr. Canyon replied. "Due to the vagaries of temporal dynamics, there is no way of knowing how long they are staying at each stop - from their subjectivity of course. It could be seconds or years. It's even possible that - " She broke off.

"What is it?" the Chief asked, but he could see for himself that the screen had gone blank.

"They're so far back in time that they've gone off the scale." Dr. Canyon hunched over the control panel and quickly threw a succession of switches. "I'm trying to recalibrate but it's not working." She continued her assault on the machine's controls but with no discernable result.

A number of the technicians left their own now-lifeless consoles and gathered ashen-faced with the Chief behind Dr. Canyon, watching helplessly. Eventually she stopped, staying frozen in place, saying nothing for several long seconds. Then she straightened and, facing the Chief, said the words he knew were coming but dreaded to hear. "We've lost them."

Act II

"What year is it now, 99?"

"The same as it was when you asked five minutes ago, Max. And five minutes before that. And an hour ago. And last week and last month for that matter."

"It's just that we've been stuck here longer than we were in any of the other times we've been in and I'm starting to wonder if we're ever going to get back."

"I'm sure everyone's doing all they can, Max."

"I'm sure you're right, 99. But if there was ever a situation it would be handy to be zapped out of it's this one. The tunnels in this cave are like a maze and even if we could find our way out the entrance is being guarded by that minotaur."

"Just think, though, Max. We finally know for sure that these mythological beings really existed. Take that minotaur, for instance. What an amazing creature he is. Half man, half bull . . . "

"I know, 99. Up until now I thought it was all bull."

"What a shame I don't have my camera."

"It wouldn't help if you did, 99."

"Why not?"

"There's no film in it."

"But, Max, we could've - "

"I used the last of it at your mother's birthday party."

"But - "

"I was going to buy more but I forgot to go to the drugstore."

"But, Max . . . "

"Yes, 99, what is it?"

"Oh. You've stopped."

There was a sudden clatter of metal on metal followed by a roar of pain. Then Max and 99 heard the sound of footsteps before a powerfully built man with shaggy blond hair appeared from one of the tunnels. By the light of their burning torch they could see that he was well over six feet tall - and that he carried a sword covered in fresh blood.

"Fear not, strangely dressed ones," he proclaimed in a resonant baritone, "for I am Hercules, defender of the weak, and I have slain your oppressor the mighty minotaur."

"You're the legendary Hercules?" Max asked. "Son of Zeus the ruler of the gods of Olympus?"

"You have heard of me."

Max shook his head. "No."

Hercules' brow creased. "Then how . . . ?"

"Sorry about that," Max said sheepishly. "I couldn't resist."

"Ah. 'Twas a merry jest!" Hercules laughed heartily. "Come. I will lead you to freedom."

"You know the way out of the maze?"

"Of course. I momorized it on my way in," Hercules said. "It is a simple pattern: Twice left, thrice right, once left again." He paused. "Or is it . . . twice right, thrice left . . . No matter," he said cheerfully, "we shall follow the trail of blood dripping from my sword."

This proved a successful plan and they soon emerged from the cave into a leafy sunlit glade. Hercules had left his supply pack there and from it he took a cloth which, cleanliness being next to godliness, he used to wipe the blood from his sword. Curiously, though, the soiled cloth he then packed back in the backpack. The body of the fallen minotaur was nowhere to be seen; it having evidently already attracted the attention of the forest's natural scavengers.

"We owe you a debt of thanks," Max said.

"It is what I do," Hercules replied modestly. "But I would ask: How came you to be out so far from the trodden pathways?"

"Well, let's just say we're travelers who ended up in the wrong place at the wrong, er, time," Max replied. "Right, 99?" He glanced at her and did a double take as he saw how she was staring at Hercules, her mouth hanging open and a goofy expression on her face. "99?"

"I'm 99," she drawled.

"Really?" Hercules replied. "I'm a hundred and thirty-three. You must also be half god."

99 allowed her eyes to run over his well-muscled form. "Half god," she repeated dreamily.

"In truth you do remind me of my sister Aphrodite."

99's face fell. "Sister?"

"Well, half-sister."

The goofy look returned. "Ah."

Max grabbed 99 by the shoulders and attempted to steer her away. "Well, ah, Hercules," he said, "it's too bad you have to rush off like this but I know you've got a lot of other people to rescue."

"Verily, I have heard tell of a damsel named Helen over in Troy who may be in need of some assistance."

"Well, don't let us keep you. Toodle-oo, now."

"It has been an honor," Hercules said. He sheathed his sword, slung his pack onto his back and strode off into the woods.

99 waved forlornly after him. "Toodle-oo," she said in a small, sad voice.

Max watched 99 watch Hercules. As the distance between them increased, the glazed look slowly left her eyes. She became aware of her own pathetically flapping hand and dropped it to her side.

"You can close your mouth now, 99. You're starting to drool."

"I don't know what came over me," 99 said embarassed. "It felt like I was under some kind of magic spell."

"I never heard of Hercules having any kind of magical powers," Max objected. "I thought he was just super-strong."

"Well, I felt something." When Max's eyes widened at this she went on, "Oh, Max, don't be jealous. It's like the song says: 'No muscle-bound man could take my hand from my guy.'"

Max tried to maintain a stern face but melted as she put her arms around him.

"Maaax . . . ?"

"Well, . . . " he relented.

She began singing softly in his ear. "No handsome face could ever take the place of my guy."

"You know, 99, when you think about it, that's not really complimentary."

"There must be something you can do."

Dr. Canyon turned off the machine. "I'm sorry, sir. They were my friends, too. All we can do is take comfort from the knowledge that their sacrifice will advance the cause of science."

The look on the Chief's face showed that he found this to be no comfort at all.

The silence was broken by a sudden babble of voices as a group of technicians on the far side of the lab erupted into an excited discussion. One of them, an ernest-looking young man broke away and approached Dr. Canyon.

"What is it, Ernest?"

He held out a sheaf of papers. "We've been doing some calculations. There's something here we think you should see."

"Can't this wait until later? I think we could all do with a break just now."

Ernest seemed agitated. "But the numbers, Dr. Canyon. Look at the numbers."

Seeing the man's intense expression, Dr. Canyon took the papers and studied them. "My goodness!" she exclaimed. She switched the machine back on.

"What is it? What's happening?" the Chief demanded.

She pointed to the display. "It seems they've changed course again - like a pendulum returning to the center."

"You mean . . . ? the Chief asked, hardly daring to hope.

"Yes. They're heading back toward us."

"What a relief. I thought . . . Those metaphors of yours can be a little confusing."

"Actually, sir, they're similes."

"Doctor, . . . "

"I know, sir. Semantics."

They were home. At least in place if not in time. Max and 99 wandered wide-eyed through a Washington D.C. that was clearly of an era earlier than their own. One both familiar and strange. Some of the buildings were just as they knew them. Others were unfinished. Some did not yet exist. The streets were full of horse-drawn buggies - and the evidence of those that had passed before.

99 sighed wistfully. "So near and yet . . . " She left the rest hanging.

" . . . never the twain shall meet," Max finished, mangling his sayings as usual.

99 frowned faintly but nodded. As usual, it still seemed to make its own kind of sense.

Max walked up to a stocky man wearing pinstripe trousers and mutton-chop whiskers. "Pardon me," he began, "but could you tell me the date?"

"It's the 14th of April," the man replied imperiously.

"What year is it?" Max asked.

The man regarded him pityingly. "1865," he said before scurrying away.

"Odd fellow," Max commented. He turned to 99 whose face had suddenly gone several shades paler. "99, what's wrong?"

"Max, do you know what day this is?"

"Yes, it's April 14, 1865."

"That's the day Abraham Lincoln was assassinated!"

The Chief stepped back into the lab, checking behind him that the door had closed properly before he spoke. "Any progress?"

"Some. We've been working on a new theory. The combination of factors now obtaining - the fact that they are traveling forward again and also heading toward us - changes everything. As I feared, it still won't be possible to retrieve them directly. But the next time they skip I should be able to influence their destination - like bringing a plane in for a landing."

In spite of the good news, the Chief winced.

"Sorry, sir." Dr. Canyon flashed a rare smile "I promise that's the last one."

"Do you think we should?" Max asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, assuming that it's actually possible to stop it, what about all the kids studying history at school? All their books are going to be wrong. Thousands of schools are going to have to buy new history books."

"I'm not sure that's the most important aspect, Max, but you do have a point. Changing history could have huge ramifications."

"Ramma-what?"

"Side effects."

"No, 99," Max said resolutely. "We're government agents. We have information about a plot to kill the president. We have no choice but to to try to prevent it."

"I agree, Max, but it'll be tricky. We can't just tell the authorities what we know. No one will believe us if we say we're from the future."

"Don't worry, 99. I've got an idea. I haven't got it all worked out yet but we'll have to try to arrange for the authorities to discover the assassin for themselves so they can stop him in the act."

"How can we do that?"

"Well . . . that's the part I haven't worked out yet."

"Now," Dr. Canyon continued, "ideally, I'll try to guide them to the precise point in time that they disappeared."

"Sounds tricky," the Chief commented.

"Yes, but it's immensely important that they not return before they leave. Otherwise, they'll meet themselves going the other way."

"That would be a disaster," the Chief agreed.

"Yes, it could result in a potentially catastrophic disruption of the space-time continuum."

"No, I was thinking . . . two Maxes."

"Are you sure this is the right theater, 99? We shouldn't have been able to get inside this easily - especially if the President is going to be coming here tonight."

"I'm sure, Max. According to history, the assassin went through this door and barred the way behind him. One of us should wait in there to make sure that help can get through."

"I'll take care of that, 99. You stay out here and as soon as he makes his move I want you to knock over that flower pot. Hopefully, the crash will alert the authorities that something is up and someone will come to investigate."

"But, Max, that 'pot' is an antique vase."

"This is 1865," he reminded her. "It isn't an antique yet."

"Oh." 99 considered this. "Okay, Max."

"This is going to require split-second timing," Max told her. "You'll have to wait for him to pass by, but not be too late to be on time." He paused, confused by his own sentence contruction.

But 99 knew what he meant. "Right, Max."

"And try to be out of sight before anyone gets here. We want them to get up to the President as soon as possible not waste time questioning you." Max clenched his jaw. "I'll stop him myself if necessary," he said grittly, " but it would be better if we can pull this off without drawing attention to ourselves."

"As if we haven't drawn enough attention already with our twentieth century clothing," 99 lamented. "I wonder why, no matter how many times we change during these adventures, we always end up back in the same set of clothes. If I'd known that I was going to be wearing the same outfit for all eternity I would have chosen something else that morning."

"You can't see it under that cloak, 99," Max reassured her. "Besides, I think you look fine."

"Oh, Max, thank you!"

Max gazed at her in silence for a long moment then leaned forward and kissed her. "Good luck, 99."

"To both of us, Max."

"This is going to require split-second timing," Dr. Canyon told her assistant as the Chief waited anxiously nearby. "I've calculated the time of the next skip. Ernest, when that timer reaches zero I want you to activate the auxilliary power boost system while I initiate the pre-emptive redirection procedure. That should result in the path of their travel returning to their starting point."

"Yes, Doctor."

99 watched silently the area she knew the assassin would have to cross. She had positioned herself near the door and was within reach of the vase. Disguised in a fake beard and a man's formal breeches and frock coat, all purloined from an unguarded dressing room, and her long hair pushed up under a top hat from the same source, she hoped desperately that she looked like she belonged there. She could hear the actors and stagehands going about their finely-timed activities. The play was in progress and she knew that the President and First Lady would be in their box. Waiting was all that remained. A thought struck her. She remembered reading reports claiming that a mysterious gentleman had been sighted here on the fateful night - yet she saw none. Dressed as she was, could that 'gentleman' have been herself? She rubbed her forehead with her forefinger; Max was right about those paradoxes.

At last she saw a shadowy figure enter the lobby and glance furtively about. He made his way across to where she stood; briefly, their eyes met. Apparently taking her for an official, he presented a business card then went through the doorway closing the door behind him. 99 reached her hand toward the vase.

Dr. Canyon watched as the hand on the timer swept inexorably toward zero.

"Now!" she ordered.

"Not now!" 99 screamed as she felt the now-familiar tug of the Time Funnel. But no sound left her lips. Reality dissolved around her. Somewhere at the edge of her senses she fancied that she heard a gunshot.

"Time flies, doesn't it?"

A wry expression crossed Dr. Canyon's face. "Funny you should put it that way," she deadpanned. She responded to 99's quizical look by inclining her head toward the giant machine.

"Oh." 99 laughed. "For a moment I forgot where I was."

Suddenly a loud buzzer sounded, indicating that the lab's outer door was open.

"Someone's coming," 99 said. She took out her gun and listened intently. There was a burst of maniacal laughter, quickly stifled. 99 relaxed. "That's Max!" she said in a surprised tone. "The guards are frisking him." There followed a single guffaw. 99 glanced at Dr. Canyon. "He's ticklish," she added by way of explanation.

Dr. Canyon decided that she was learning altogether much more about Max than she had any desire to know.

After a few more moments the inner door opened and Max entered. "Hi, 99," he said. "Hello, Dr. Canyon."

"Mr. Smart."

"What are you doing here, love?" 99 asked. "My shift isn't up for another hour and, anyway, I thought 62 had the next watch."

"There's been an emergency back at Control," Max explained, "and 62 can't be spared. The Chief wants you to take a double shift."

"Why? What's happened?"

"The softball game with the CIA went into extra innings and 62 is the pinch hitter."

"Who's watching the twins?"

"Well, 44 volunteered to stay with them this afternoon but I'll be going straight home when I leave here."

"That was nice of 44," 99 said. "He's very good with them and they seem to like him, too."

"Yes," Max agreed, "especially when he pops up out of that Jack-in-the-Box." Max surveyed the windowless, sterile-looking laboratory replete with its looming machinery. "What's all this?"

"That's right, you haven't been here before, have you, Max? Laurel, tell Max about your project. I'm sure he'll find it fascinating."

Dr. Canyon regarded Max doubtfully. "I assume you have a security clearance high enough to hear this."

"Are you kidding?" Max replied. "My clearance is high enough to hear things even the president doesn't know. Would you believe it? The president!"

"That is rather difficult to believe," Dr. Canyon admitted.

Max reconsidered. "Would you believe the vice-president?"

"Well, . . . "

"The janitor?"

"Even the janitor here has a level six clearance so I suppose I can tell you. I'm working on a method for chronometric displacement of personnel."

Max scowled, turning the phrase over in his mind. "Like a time machine?" he ventured.

"In a manner of speaking," Dr. Canyon replied. "Simply put, it creates a temporal vortex through which the subject can be drawn. I call it The Time Funnel."

"That's fantastic," Max said as the idea sank in. "You mean that people can actually travel through time with your device?"

"That's fantastic, Doctor!" Max enthused. "I thought your invisibility spray was the most fantastic thing I'd ever seen, er, not seen. But this is just . . . " He struggled for the right word.

"Fantastic?" Dr. Canyon suggested. Max opened his mouth, closed it and narrowed his eyes at her as she and 99 exchanged amused glances. "How exactly does it work, Doctor?"

Max's face lit up. "Would I?" he exclaimed. He frowned. "Would I, 99?"

"I think you would, Max, yes."

"Max grinned boyishly. "Then I will."

"How about Larabee?" Max suggested.

"Why do you talk about him that way, Max? You know Larabee is really a good friend of yours."

Max reflected on this for several seconds. "You're right, 99," he said finally. "It's just that I seem to like him a lot better when he's not here."

99 rolled her eyes and gave it up as a bad job. "I have an old compact in my purse," she said. "Will that do?"

"Well, which do you intend to do now?" Max asked.

"What happens now?" asked 99.

"I merely press this button which feeds power to the Sigma ray projectors. The rest of the sequence is automatic."

Dr. Canyon pressed the button.

Abruptly, the whining changed pitch and then died away. Momentum carried Max and 99 onward and they careered off the platform on the other side. Making use of her parachute training, 99 curled herself up into a ball and rolled gracefully to a stop. Max rolled gracefully into a wall. Both were unhurt, though, and stood up easily.

"What just happened?" Max asked as 99 retrieved her gun from where it had fallen just short of the platform.

"I don't know," Dr. Canyon replied. She checked one of the gauges. "The wave generator started to power up but then it switched to its shutdown sequence." She paused, deep in thought. looking puzzled. "Not to put too fine a point on it, you shouldn't be here."

"Well, I was on my way home," Max pouted.

"Don't misunderstand me," Dr. Canyon said. "I'm very glad that you're both safe. But there has been an anomaly. I'll have to take everything apart to see if there's a flaw in the system."

"Try to look on the bright side," Max suggested.

Dr. Canyon looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"At least 99 didn't lose her compact." Max solemnly presented the trinket to 99 as Dr. Canyon looked on looking more perplexed than ever.

"Keep working on it, Laurel," 99 encouraged, misinterpreting her facial expression. "I think it would be very interesting to be able to go back and talk with some of the great figures of history. Don't you think so, Max?"

Max shrugged. "Not really."

99 was taken aback. "You don't? Why not?"

"These 'figures of history'. They're all dead, right?"

"Yes, Max, that's sort of the point."

"Well, 99, in my experience, dead people have never been much for holding up their end of the conversation."

The End