2

There had been a time, when Eden was young, that she was certain of her place in the universe. There had been a time where she knew that, as the daughter of Astra and Khai, she would have every door open to her as soon as she expressed any interest in it. There had been a time where she had taken advantage of that privilege and submerged herself into the deep trenches of scientific discovery, always pushing forward and for more. There had been a time when she met the gazes of her colleagues and felt pride for what they had accomplished.

There had been a time, once, when Eden was committed to the Alliance. But that was before she saw it for what it had become - before she saw what it would stand for and what it would represent. Before her eyes opened and she started to see the causal relationship in everything the Alliance wants to do.

Time changes things. It can change everything. It certainly changed her.

It shouldn't be overlooked, of course, the fact that Eden grew up very much unlike any of her peers. She and Rhydian grew up on the NOVA for the most part, exploring the outermost reaches of every galaxy they passed through, brokering alliances on behalf of what was then the United Federation. It wasn't a bad way to grow up, even if it was a bit more isolated from same-age peers than what would be considered healthy.

Eden, admittedly, did better than her brother; Rhydian is the more emotional of them and the one who seems to rely more on personal connection. For this, Eden will always rightfully blame Tulia, who had been under Rhydian's skin since either of them could toddle around. Eden, on the other hand, found better comfort in numbers than she did in people, something she probably inherited from her father. It's a trait that would serve her well as she grew older and grew less likely to engage in the active training program offered onboard the NOVA. While Rhydian thrived among the sabers and brawling of the security officers, Eden only put in a token amount of interest. She didn't care for the physical nature of any of it. Touching is, perhaps, more difficult for her than it is for Rhydian. They are not quite night and day, but neither are they mirrors of each other - or their parents.

Eden is the daughter of Khai in so many ways. But she is also the daughter of Astra, and so she would forge her own way - and she did. It had been hard work to rise through the ranks of the science division, only to spend every waking moment reminding her colleagues not to underestimate her due to something as arbitrary as her age. Eden was more clever and resourceful than most of them by half, and she never let them forget it. Now when there is a problem, they all come to her, the Chief Scientist, and make a ruckus in her lab until she fixes their mistakes. It's been almost a year since she was officially named and she thinks she has won the respect of most of them - but now it is the respect for her position that she is perhaps starting to lose.

Alliance Chief Scientist she may be, but at this moment, Eden is reading a missive on her pad from the Admiralty itself - and it is, essentially, a reprimand for the latest essay she submitted to a scientific journal outlining the vital role of biodiversity ethics in terra-forming. Submitting the paper had, naturally, been done only because her direct superiors were deafening their ears to the concerns she had brought up - concerns about interfering in the natural course of evolution and concerns about repeating the mistakes of colonizing on underdeveloped planets. In the scientific journal, fellow scientists had lauded her ethics; in this missive from the Admiralty, there is a clear, if subtle, warning that she is getting a little too close to outright censuring the Alliance.

Reading over the bureaucratic language of the missive, Eden's hackles raise at the mere idea that anyone, even Admiral Blankenship, would suggest that Eden is undermining the advancement of scientific discovery. It isn't the science she objects to - that would be illogical, given that she is the science itself. Her objections stem from the application of science, particularly the way in which her superiors are pushing for technology to be developed for very specific, and even very dubious, purposes. They are, she thinks, very good objections. Ethical objections. The kind of objections that perhaps should have been made about her own family - and perhaps the kind of objections that Alliance, born from the United Federation, is already well-versed in ignoring.

Eden breathes in deeply, then dismisses the missive. Far less easily, she attempts to dismiss the doubt slithering through her mind. The formalization of the Alliance is younger than her nineteen years and many divisions are still being settled. The mission of the Alliance remains, with a focus on peace-keeping and discovering the outer limits of the universe. Aside from her objections being carefully talked over and this missive suggesting her publications are too precious for peer-reviewed journals to consume without regulation, there is no true cause for her doubt.

There is no reason to be suspicious of the Alliance, its goals, or her commanding officers. Science, after all, relies on factual evidence, and all Eden has in the knot in her stomach that grows tighter each day. Conjecture and hypothesis are not truth. Suspicions are nothing more than speculations and speculations prove nothing.

But still, the doubt lingers - and grows.

2649

Paris, Terra

Eden enjoys Paris as much as she enjoys any place, which is to say that what she appreciates most about Paris is the lab that has been specially curated for her use. The lab, with its stark whiteness and clean lines, has everything Eden needs. She spends nearly all of her time in this lab; it is more home to her than any space deck, quarters, or apartment. There is no reason to leave unless the matter is pressing and can't be completed remotely. She doesn't find anything worrisome about these views, but it would seem Tulia believes differently.

"When was the last time you were back at your loft?" Tulia asks, bending slightly to peer at the beakers bubbling with vibrant liquids, one slowly dripping into a chassis buzzing with faint static electricity.

Eden doesn't deign to answer the question. Instead, she glances up from the holoscreen displaying the results of her latest tests and, with only a thought, moves Tulia back at least four paces. Tulia's silver circlet jingles at the movement, but she does not object to the invisible hands pushing her backward and into safer territory.

She does, however, give Eden a mild, if pointed, smile. "We should go to dinner."

Eden hums with disinterest. Tulia is her closest friend and has been the most prominent guiding hand through her childhood and Eden cherishes her friendship very much. Without Tulia, Eden would probably be far less well-adjusted than she is today. But all the same, Tulia is also her sister-in-law and in one of her moods. Eden would probably be correct to assume that Tulia wants to talk to her about something, judging from the glint in her turquoise eyes. Eden recognizes that tone, that look; very rarely does anything pleasant come from it, and Eden would very much like to avoid more unpleasant news after the missive this morning.

Eden does not think it's unusual to want to avoid negative news. All she wants to do, at the moment, is focus on her projects. She's certain she's close to a breakthrough. Going to dinner and listening to what Tulia wants to say would likely cause delay.

"Rhydian can go to dinner with you," Eden tries.

"Rhydian is preparing to go off-planet on assignment in two days," Tulia rebuts smoothly. "He is too busy for dinner."

At this, Eden pauses. This is news to her. As far as she knows, Rhydian is supposed to be on leave for at least the next month under strict restrictions from any space travel until his latest injury finishes healing. It isn't like Rhydian to ignore doctor's orders, but she supposes he would if the assignment was urgent enough, as would be his duty as a Lieutenant Commander.

Eden hums again, cutting her eyes to Tulia's graceful loitering. "Shouldn't you be spending time with him, then?"

"I am needed for this assignment. We will be together for the next several weeks. You, on the other hand, will be alone. I should spend time with you instead," Tulia says peaceably.

"Hmph."

"Your projects will be here when you come back," Tulia tells her serenely, now at Eden's back, hovering in that way of hers.

Eden releases a sigh. "I have a replicator here," she tries, a final valiant attempt. Even as she says it, she knows she has lost the battle. At this point, it's asinine to drag her heels. Tulia's insistence paired with her impending departure with Rhydian would suggest that whatever she wants to discuss is something Eden should be paying attention to. It must be important. It may even be sensitive information, if she takes into account how much Tulia wants to speak with her outside of her laboratory, which is, as far as Eden knows, one of the most secure buildings at the Paris Alliance Headquarters.

Interesting.

Eden can admit that she really should not be difficult about this. The faster she does what Tulia wants, the faster she can get back to untangling her traversable wormhole theory, or even completing the terra nanos the Alliance is expecting soon. Being difficult is only delaying the inevitable and postponing her progress.

This, of course, does not mean that Eden has to like being pulled away from her work, not even if the reason may be the next mystical thing to fall out of Tulia's mouth.

"You can have replicated food any other day. Come with me, please. We will go to that Twi'lek restaurant you like," Tulia says persuasively.

The persuasion is, at this point, redundant. Eden is already shutting down her projects and engaging the safety protocols. She takes the time to apply the triple verification necessary to access any of the data in her lab and waits for the shields to lower over her ongoing projects before she follows Tulia from the wide room. Tulia waits patiently as Eden repeats the same locking protocol on the outer entrance of her lab. If Eden is especially careful to secure her lab, then it is only because she can sense the tension running under Tulia's skin.

Her caution has very little to do with the missive. Even Admiral Blankenship wouldn't sabotage scientific research. But, then again. Eden pauses, and then slyly implements a fourth entry protocol, aware of Tulia's near-jitters at her back.

Tulia doesn't want to be in the building. Even if Eden is not touching her and leeching the emotions from her skin, she can tell that Tulia is especially eager to leave, even if her expression is not outwardly broadcasting this desire. Eden arches a slender brow at her sister-in-law and allows herself to be herded out of the building and into a hover cab.

Tulia prattles throughout the ride and as they are seated in the restaurant, engaging with the beings around them with a bubbly effervescence that Eden has grown numb to. She can recognize the lilting words for the distraction they are and feels only moderately gratified to know she is right when Tulia finally settles down after they have been served their meals.

"Eden," she starts, a fine line worrying between her brows.

Eden cuts her food into precise bites. "You wanted to talk about something and you wanted to be away from any listening ears," she guesses, listening to the circlet of bells around Tulia's head jingle as she nods once. "Tell me."

Tulia's turquoise eyes flicker around the room, overcautious and paranoid. "I believe you should be careful, these next few days," she says slowly, nearly a whisper.

Even expecting something like this, Eden can't help her curiosity. Whatever Tulia has Seen is something pertaining directly to Eden. That's a rare thing. It's even rarer that Tulia is delivering a warning, of all things, and is taking such care about it.

Eden puts her cutlery down, drawing her shoulders back. She folds her hands together on the table, the same position she takes when she must prod fellow scientists to explain, concisely, the premise of their research. "Careful? Explain," she prompts.

"I cannot."

"Then how should I follow your advice?"

"Eden," Tulia says, her concern plainly evident on her face, her tone plaintive.

Despite growing up and learning to place trust in Tulia's strange intuition, Eden struggles to believe in it until there is proof. The proof, she is sure, will happen soon enough. It always does. And yet, any mirth Eden feels for this orchestration swiftly drains. She doesn't know the nuance of what Tulia can see and she doesn't know if whatever she has Seen will come true, but she does know that Tulia is disturbed enough to go out of her way to caution Eden - and to even caution her in a public place far out of the reach of potential Alliance ears. She will take the warning seriously because Tulia is taking it seriously. She does not need another reason, not this time.

"Yes. I know," she says gravely. "I will be careful."

"Good. That is a relief," Tulia returns, shoulders losing some tension.

But somehow, even as she says it, Eden doesn't think Tulia looks very relieved at all.

Eden drops her gaze to her plate. She begins to eat, dragging roasted vegetables through creamy sauce. "Does Rhydian know?" she wonders. "About what you've Seen?"

Tulia hesitates.. "He knows I am concerned," she equivocates, starting in on her own food. "He does not know what I am concerned about. Or who."

Eden hums. Interesting again. The reason for Tulia's omission is obvious, then. "You don't tell him because you don't want him to worry, but you tell me so I can be on guard," she says. "I must be in danger."

Tulia presses her lips together.

Eden silently sucks the air between her teeth. "Ah. I only might be in danger, then. You haven't Seen anything concrete, then," she surmises. She is certain her guess is right. Tulia has had the same tells since they were children.

"You have always been intelligent," Tulia acknowledges, somehow fretful about it.

"And I have always been careful," Eden reminds her.

"I know," Tulia says. She reaches across the table, as if to pat her hand, but stops short.

If it were Rhydian, then Tulia would not have hesitated; but Eden is not Rhydian and she has no desire to feel what is happening in Tulia's head. Getting a trace of another's emotion has always been - overwhelming, even without the psi-points that other Giidas need. Eden's touch aversion is well-founded. Unlike others in her family - and probably the result of some latent genetic manipulation that spawned her parents - Eden's touch telepathy is highly sensitive. It makes touch so difficult that Eden would simply rather avoid it, even in comfort.

Eden subtly pulls her hand back under the guise of taking a tip of water and Tulia watches her with a vaguely worried moue.

Eden pretends not to notice.

Orion has never been a fan of reconnaissance. Unlike Leta, he has no patience for it, even if it's often a necessary task given his occupation, and unlike Koit, he doesn't find it half as entertaining. However, it's only fair that the three of them are sent out for reconnaissance, considering how hard Matthis and Vo'ongi worked to pinpoint the moments in the timeline that were likely the best options to exploit.

None of this makes it any less dull to watch this scientist, Eden, go through her daily life. As far as Orion can see, she practically lives in her lab and only leaves when prompted. There isn't much to watch, as far as he can tell.

Koit, naturally, disagrees. He keeps up a running commentary as they perch on a roof across from one of the earliest Alliance headquarters on Terra. "Pretty for a nerd, huh? Look at what she's doing - those are, like, early prototypes of our jumpers. Isn't that neat?"

Cloaked as they are, Orion can't see the face that Koit is making, but he can hear the tone all-too-well and he can only sigh in response. Another of Koit's infatuations that they all must suffer through. On his other side, Leta is equally silent, although Orion is sure this is because she is actually focused on their mark. Orion is focused, too. Through the binocular visors sitting on his face, he can watch as the scientist putters from station to station, occasionally manipulating holos and other instruments. She appears to be in a state of deep concentration and hardly even pays attention to the Falleen male stumbling around after her.

Orion watches and watches and thinks nothing has changed over the week they have been watching the scientist, looking for the right time to step in. He has memorized the options Matthis gave to them and knows that the first opportunity is going to be soon.

"What do you think?" he asks Leta.

"She is pretty," Leta murmurs.

"Yeah, she is!" Koit agrees enthusiastically.

Orion flexes his jaw. "No - not that. You know what I mean."

Leta pauses for a few thoughtful seconds. "It would be ideal if we took her at the first opportunity. A scientist disappearing is far less conspicuous than rescuing a scientist mid-assassination," she says, confirming Orion's own thoughts about it. "But I think we may have to be bold. She doesn't allow for many opportunities, and we didn't know about the telekinesis."

"A complication," Orion agrees.

"A cool complication," Koit chimes in. "And honestly, it might not be that big of one. She doesn't use it a lot, does she? It may be weak."

Orion might be inclined to agree, had he not already read up on the scientist's family history. The irony of Orion being compared, in terms of skills, to the original eugenic experiments, only to learn that he has to rescue the offspring of those experiments, is exceptional and not below his notice. Understanding the scientist's mother had similar abilities, Orion would prefer to be cautious about how powerful the scientist might be - so the telekinesis does pose an unexpected complication. He isn't sure how that detail failed to make it into any of the files they had on the scientist. Perhaps she died too young for any such records to be made.

"We should try for the first opportunity," Orion asserts. He is, technically, in charge of this mission. He thinks that if Vo'ongi were here, he would choose the same option. Leta is right, as well; a disappearing scientist will make less waves in the timeline. If they can manage to change the past without making it obvious, then they stand a better chance for success.

Beside him, Leta makes a doubtful noise. "I wish you luck. This girl is sharp."

Orion's focus flickers back to the scientist, the fine planes of her face lit up in the blues of the holoscreens, and wonders how true that statement is. If she is so sharp, then he isn't sure how the Alliance got the drop on her the first time around - or why she didn't change her tune when the Alliance began to warn her.

She is, he thinks, a tragic character. To be so instrumental in the outcome of the entire universe, but to still be only a single being and to die so early - well, Orion has never been more glad that he is essentially a single invisible cog in a massive wheel.

He wonders if they can save the scientist, or if doing so would cause cascade failure across the entire timeline.

They must try.

Eden heeds Tulia's warning as much as she can after Tulia and Rhydian leave Terra. But even a day after their departure, it becomes rapidly clear that being careful is a promise that is hard to keep. For one thing, given the laws of physics Eden is regularly trying to break, the lab isn't precisely a safe place, even if the triple verifications make it safe from other people. For another, any plans Eden might have had to sequester herself in her lab and finally churn out the updates for the terra nanos is completely obliterated when her lab assistant reveals that she has been summoned by the Admiralty. Immediately.

Eden shoves the clear, flat goggles off her face and stares at Ghiss, who clears his throat uncomfortably. "Repeat that," she says.

"The Admiralty have requested your presence for a meeting at -"

"No, I heard that," Eden interrupts shortly. She pushes back from the worktable. "The other part. They want to meet me where?"

"At the London Headquarters," Ghiss says, checking the pad missive again.

He's a nervous creature, especially for a Falleen, but he's more competent than any of her peers and she tolerates his temperament gladly most days. Today is not one of those days. She is so close to real progress - and now that Admiralty is pulling her away from her work. First Tulia, and now the Alliance. Does anyone want Eden to make scientific breakthroughs? It doesn't seem like it.

Eden breathes out through her nose, a slow three-count that serves to calm her mind. Ghiss does not deserve her irritation. It isn't as if Eden works in a private lab where all of her time and all of her discoveries are solely hers - she and her work belong to a vast organization, and even if she doesn't like it, she does owe the Admiralty her time when they call.

"I better get to a transport, then," Eden says, standing and working her way around the lab, once again shutting down and securing each of the lab stations. If she is at all reluctant, she makes sure not to show it. She pauses in front of the terra nanos sitting beneath a high-resolution microscope; they are as close to perfect as she can make them, but she continues to tweak their structure and programming. She knows she does not consider them finished in part because of her reservations for how they might be implemented - but then again. Eden wrote their programming herself. She doubts there would be anyone who could overwrite her programming enough to make the nanos operate in a truly negative way.

And yet, the doubt creeps along in the back of her mind. She doesn't want to hand over projects, not unless she is sure the recipient can be trusted. Not that the Alliance can't be trusted, of course - but still. The Alliance has reprimanded her and they now call a meeting at the true Terran headquarters in London. Eden's stomach twists, just slightly - not in fear or apprehension, but in anticipation. She dares anyone to be brave enough to censure her or take advantage of her inventions. They will not have an easy time of it in either case.

Eden finishes securing her lab, raising steely eyes at Ghiss until he vacates ahead of her. In the hallway, she lifts a brow as she passes him. "Make sure only authorized personnel are allowed inside. I will return soon."

Ghiss bobs his head several times, twisting his green-scaled fingers together as he trots after her, clearly intent on walking her to the turbolift. "A-and what do I do if someone wants to go inside?"

Eden calls for the lift and waits until she steps inside before giving Ghiss an answer, her tone cool and unbothered. "Allow them, if you must. The projects will be safe," she says confidently. Her confidence has merit, she thinks, considering the safety protocols that are in place for unauthorized access to any of her projects. They would sooner be destroyed than stolen, and she is fine with that outcome - everything in her lab is stored safely in her mind.

All of her preparation is, of course, unnecessary. Eden is cautious, but she is not paranoid. She has not made any moves to protect her data or her projects that were not perfectly practical. Preparation diverts disaster and Eden believes she is prepared for nearly all eventualities.

Ghiss swallows and waves nervously as the lift doors close - and Eden lets the doubt fall away as she is delivered to the ground floor. She practices mindful calm as she makes her away through the lobby to the conveniently placed platform near the entry, scanning her identification and selecting her transport location in a few short strokes. The fuzzy buzz of materializing in a new place several hundred miles away greets her as the transport fizzles with muted lights. Eden steps off the transport platform and into the London Headquarters, which is more austere than the Parisian building, a fitting atmosphere for the overcast sky.

Eden has very rarely been to the London Headquarters. When she was a child and her parents were not serving on the Nova, they frequently stayed in London, so she is no stranger to the place and knows her way quite well around the nearby campus, where she also completed a portion of her schooling. All the same, the London Headquarters have always felt more severe and tense, and although Eden is not quite on edge, she is more alert as she makes her way through the security protocols necessary to reach the Admiralty on the upper floors. But it's no sooner than the turbolift doors have closed that there is a decided shift in the enclosed space - a distortion of the air that tingles across the back of her neck.

Eden has only enough time to make the smallest fraction of movement to turn her neck to see behind herself before there is something hard pressed against the center of her spine.

"Don't move," a low male voice says, even though Eden is already frozen, all of her muscles locked up tightly.

Her mind races for a moment, trying to figure out how someone could simply materialize in the turbolift. There isn't any transport technology in the turbolift and she knows that it would be very difficult to calculate transport into such a small area - far too many things that can go wrong materializing in such a small, rapidly moving space. Perhaps cloaking technology then. He must have already been in the lift when Eden entered, or perhaps entered at the same time.

But that isn't important at the moment.

"Who are you?" she demands, arching her spine slightly from the weapon pressed against her.

There is hesitation. The answer is slow in coming. Eden takes the opportunity presented and presses her telekinesis outward - a forceful shove that has the male pinned to the turbolift walls behind her. She spins around and alights on a tall, lean figure dressed in combat blacks. He is older than her, his skin as pale as spun sugar, with a series of black moles flecked across his skin and eyes limned in reflective silver-blue. Her gaze falls on the sleek weapon in his hand, some sort of blaster the likes of which she has never seen.

"Who are you?" she asks again, more curt and direct. "Who sent you? You aren't Alliance."

And she is sure of that - no Alliance soldier would be dressed as an assassin. She has no doubt that he is weighed down with more weapons than she can see, and judging from the scarring on his hands, he is almost certainly a dangerous male. She can also tell that he isn't Terran or any other alien currently allied with the Alliance. She's sure she's never seen his kind before.

The male presses his lips together and the turbolift comes to a smooth halt. He breathes out sharply, reaching to press something on his wrist - surely a device of some sort - and right as the doors open, he disappears in a faint shimmer of white lights, utterly soundless. Eden is left to stare at the empty space, her heart thudding a bit harder in her chest.

Her brows knit together. She doesn't understand. What that male sent to kill her? To abduct her, maybe? He had enough of an opportunity, she thinks, and yet he didn't take it. Why? It doesn't make sense - not the inexplicable technology he used, the strange blaster, or even the way he looked at her with something close to resentment.

It's so very rare that Eden does not understand something. It's also a shame that she doesn't have the time to unpack this - incident. The Admiralty is waiting for her. She must go.

But she wonders - if he missed this opportunity, would he find another?

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Koit is chanting as Orion appears, uncloaked, on a nearby roof.

Orion coughs, the invisible pressure on his chest from the scientist's telekinesis now gone. It had been nearly impossible to move enough to get his finger on the jumper on his wrist. The scientist is very strong, though he can also tell she is clearly untrained in the skin.

He can't believe he was thwarted by an untried nineteen-year-old female. He should have been able to take her out of the turbolift as planned and jump to a different location or time. He should have been able to follow the plan. But he had hesitated and that split second had given the scientist the leverage she needed.

Why had he hesitated? He was there to save her - and the rest of the universe - but he had hesitated. He can't even say he had a good reason. He doesn't know why it happened. And it doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is that his attempt had failed and now his team only had one opportunity to fix this timeline.

"We could jump back three minutes," Leta offers, unseen but infinitely heard over the sound pollution of the roof.

Orion shakes his head, knowing both Leta and Koit can see him. He takes a moment to turn on his cloaking, his clothing and mask shimmering into invisibility. "No, we can't," he disagrees. "Going back for a redo would risk a paradox."

"It would also tip off anyone watching for time ripples," Koit says helpfully.

"We go forward," Orion determines.

"If that's the case, then we should jump to the right location right now," Leta says coolly. "Check your nine. It looks like that assassinator is already in position."

Orion quickly turns his head to the left - and sure enough, there is a sniper trained on another roof, already laying in wait. He eyes the blaster being aimed at the Alliance Headquarters and, although the weapon is must less sophisticated than what Alliance snipers in the 51st century use, it's almost certainly powerful enough to get the job done from quite a distance.

"Fuck" Koit laments.

"Get on that," Orion orders. "Leta and I will be on the inside. Do what you can. Meet at the appointed location as soon as you're done. If we fail, we regroup from there."

"You got it, Sergeant," Koit says brightly, followed by a subtle displacement of air that indicates he's already jumped to the other roof.

"Ready?" Orion asks.

"You follow, I lead," Leta confirms.

Orion jumps.

Eden had assumed that her meeting with the Admirals would mean most, if not all, of the Admiralty sitting in to cast down their judgment. She had expected to be reprimanded for her publication and fully suspects that Admiral Blankenship is behind the entire orchestration. Eden is, of course, right in all of her assumptions. Admiral Blankenship is seemingly in charge of her dressing down and indeed all the Admirals across the Alliance, even those several galaxies away and attending the meeting remotely, are present, each of them staring her down with a blend of disappointment and apprehension.

Eden is not intimidated. She has never been intimidated by much. However, she does find the entire scene bothersome and, in the back of her mind, she is troubled over what occurred in the turbolift. Each one of her Giidas senses is strained, absorbing every detail and stimuli. It's because of this vigilance that she can quite easily assess which of the Admirals are allied with Blankenship and which are more or less neutral; the ratio is telling, considering her positions and contributions to the Alliance since her promotion. The general attitude seems to punish her daring publication, even in spite of all of her successful projects.

It would seem the Alliance wants only obedience. It is too bad for them that her desire to be independent was what prompted her to avoid the command track her brother took. Eden is no soldier. She is a scientist and her only guidelines are the ethics of the application of science.

It's clear enough that the Alliance does not understand or respect this. How disappointing.

"...recent publication has blatantly disregarded the sanctity of Alliance research," one of the Admirals drones on, looking to her colleagues to nod in agreement. "If nothing else, it was irresponsible to dispense such information to the general public."

"I agree," another says. "Our citizens need only know that we are striving for a better future. To bring up such minutiae about the internal operations and goals of our science division was, for lack of a better term, entirely immature."

There are more nods of agreement. Eden suppresses another sigh.

"Once again, Admirals, it's unfortunate you feel so strongly about this. However," she says with a pointed stare at Admiral Blankenship. "I made my concerns abundantly clear over the course of the project and did not receive an acceptable response. Moreover, the research developed in my lab is proprietary and I am fully within my rights to publish information about it in any way I see fit."

"Your research is Alliance research," Admiral Blankenship says sternly.

"Yes," Eden agrees. "To a point. I have many other projects that are not sponsored or funded by the Alliance. What I wish to publish about my personal research is at my own discretion. I have not violated any contracts or disclosures."

"The spirit of your contract has been violated," an Admiral argues.

Eden lifts a single brow. "To my knowledge, contracts do not have spirits. As a legal matter, I have done nothing to warrant this reprimand."

Many Admirals look very unhappy about this, Admiral Blankenship among them. None of this is surprising, of course, as over the last hour Eden has lost any doubt she had about the aims of the Alliance in regard to scientific discovery. She had been right to be paranoid about locking up her lab. It seems that the Alliance views all of her advancements as their own property.

It is not. She will not let it become that way and they will not forget it.

Up until that point, she had completely put the turbolift incident out of her head. The meeting with the Admiralty had rightfully taken up all of her impressive focus. She is defending her research, after all, and keenly recognizes that the Alliance seeks to put limitations on her. It's also equally obvious that most, if not all, of the Admirals are on the same page. The few allies she does appear to have are across the universe or otherwise too quiet to speak up; she assesses their bored expressions and draws her own conclusions about what keeps them quiet. Even if the Alliance needs her to advance the technology they plan to use, Eden is still only one scientist. She is expendable after a certain point. There is no need for like-minded Admirals to waste their influence on an unruly Chief Scientist when that influence can perhaps be used for more important matters later on. She understands the strategy of it and holds no ill will. The other Admirals, of course, are a different story, but this, too, she understands; they seek to control her because they do not understand or because they have other priorities, namely their own power.

She finds it all very tiresome.

This is perhaps why her gaze starts to wander as yet another Admiral starts a new diatribe. At first, the glimmer on the table is mistaken for the sunlight spilling into the room from the large, floor-to-ceiling windows affording a remarkable view of the Thames. But no, the shade isn't quite right - and in fact, it's a shade of light, a small pin-point, that she recognizes well. After all, she had designed those crosshairs herself and that particular shade of pale yellow that focuses the blaster on the intended target is well-known to her memory.

She watches the dot shift and swivel, unsteady and jerking. She breathes in, calm and smooth, lifting her eyes to the window, steadily scanning the rooftops. Based on the angle, a sniper would have to be -

There is movement, only just detectable by her Giidas eyes, three rooftops away. A figure in black and two in grey, clearly fighting. Eden's eyes dart down and the small point of light is gone from the tabletop.

The Admiral is still talking. Eden again watches the movement on the rooftop and sees, she thinks, the figure in black pushed away as one figure in grey sinks back down. And yes, there it is, the beam of pale yellow light, now traveling swiftly up the table and onto her person - stomach, chest, shoulder, then surely her head.

The realization is clinical - detached. Eden is being assassinated. She wonders vaguely which of the Admirals ordered it.

Should she move? Let on that she has spotted the sniper? The Admiral is still talking and none of the others seem to have noticed a thing. Perhaps if she shifted her chair -

The glass shatters, the wall of windows crumbling and letting in the nipping cold of the last stages of Terra's miniature Ice Age. A beam of energy embeds itself into the wall behind Eden's head, just a scant inch off-mark.

Eden releases a careful breath. Around her, the Admirals are jumping up and shouting in alarm; there are guards rushing into the room, ready to secure the Admirals away from the open window; the lights in the room drop to deep red, the whine of sirens undulating through the air. Eden doesn't move. Her eyes are locked on the roof three buildings away, taking in the insubstantial shape of the figures fighting, blaster sniper forgotten.

Someone has just prevented her assassination.

By her estimation, only a few seconds have passed since the windows broke. She should not be sitting anymore, and so she moves, standing swiftly and slinking along to the back of the room, further out of firing range and as far from the chaos as she can be -

And then, two displacements of air, right in the center of the room. Two figures in black appear on the table, standing back to back, each of them with a sleek, foreign-looking blaster in hand. She recognizes the male from the turbolift, but is surprised to see the jet Falleen, who is already engaging with the Alliance guards. The two black-clad figures move with striking fluidity, a sort of dangerous grace she recognizes from watching the deadly precision of her father train with NOVA security recruits. The difference here, she thinks, is that the way each of them fights - although not trained herself, Eden can recognize clear martial stances at a glance and not one of the movements used by these interlopers are familiar.

Where are they from? And why are they and their colleague helping Eden?

Because now with more information at hand, it's clear that they are trying to help her. Perhaps in the turbolift, the male had meant to abduct her to prevent the assassination, but her own actions had made that impossible. Now, she is likely witnessing Plan B.

Eden presses her spine cautiously against the wall, watching and waiting. While some of the guards have successfully evacuated the Admirals, the bulk of them are focused on the male and the Falleen, who fight back to back with blunt, lethal strikes. More guards are spilling into the room and blaster fire is being exchanged. Eden should move; she should vacate the room and get herself to safety so she can try to deduce which of the Admirals have placed a bounty on her life. She should prioritize her own wellbeing and get back to her lab to secure her projects, because it seems her doubt about the Alliance was well-earned. She should contact her parents and her brother, as it seems likely they may be used as leverage against Eden if given the opportunity, even if each of them is irreplaceable to the Alliance and the vision the Alliance has for the future.

These are all things Eden should do. These are not things Eden actually does. Instead, her eyes track the progress of the fight as she takes cover behind the tall back of a discarded chair, ensuring that she is out of any line of sight from the busted windows and the sharp, cool breeze gusting through the wind. She has an ideal position, but she is not fully hidden; this is proven by the way the male does a double-take at her last position and unerringly tracks her partially secure position. As she watches, he grunts something at his Falleen companion, who nods and spins into a riot of movement that knocks three guards out cold. The male, meanwhile -

One moment he is standing on the table, ducking under the meaty fist of a guard, and the next he is behind Eden with only a displacement of air to show for it. Is it true teleportation? No, he wears a device, which is currently glowing, so that must surely be the technology responsible for his spontaneous relocation. How curious.

The male isn't breathing hard, but his jaw is tense and his mouth is flattened into a stern line. He stares at her for a heavy moment. His eyes are strangely iridescent, reminding her starkly of the bioluminescence of deep-sea creatures found on Terra. She stares back at him, calm and steady. What will he do? What is his goal?

The moment stretches on. And then -

"You're in danger," he tells her, as if such a fact was not already obvious.

"Yes," she agrees.

"You're coming with me," he says, leaving absolutely no room for argument. His long-fingered hand, hidden by smooth black gloves, comes down on her shoulder like a vice. He stands, jerking her up along with him, and directs his attention to his comrade. "I've got her," he shouts above the din. "Move out!"

The Falleen female nods, smoothly tapping a command into the device on her wrist, and then she is gone in a shimmer of faint light. In Eden's distraction watching the Falleen disappear, she fails to notice that the male has done the same, reaching around Eden to input commands into his device so he doesn't have to release the clamp on her shoulder. From her angle, she catches only the slightest suggestions of characters from a language she does not recognize - and then there is a dizzying, almost painful jolt of static that crawls from her feet to her head and -

And everything goes white.

Unknown Time

Paradox Pocket

Well. That went spectacularly wrong. Orion has completed dozens of successful missions, each of them far more complex than stopping the assassination of a single scientist - and yet, every point of the mission where things could have gone wrong did go wrong. To call the mission a success only because the scientist has been secured is laughable.

Leta disagrees.

"She did not respond well to the jump, but she will be fine," Leta determines, standing from her crouch over the scientist. Leta crosses her arms, her brow furrowed. "She's very young, isn't she?"

Orion doesn't comment. His own thoughts about the scientist are complicated. She is young, yes, but she is clearly intelligent and in control of herself. There is something unsettling about her, he thinks. Her energy is unlike most that he's come across. While most beings register as being energy neutral to Orion, with the exception of the Xianians of his memories, this scientist appears to possess a scant more energy clinging to her cells. If he were to guess, the cause must be the fact that Giidas are psi-skilled, just like Xianians - but then, even compared to the few Giidas he has ever encountered, there is something about the scientist's energy that he can't quite put his finger on. The cause must be, of course, related to the genetic engineering of her parents.

Orion very determinedly does not spare a single thought to any other reasons for why the scientist inexplicably has energy that seems to resonate with his own. It's nothing more than a coincidence.

Orion shifts, striding a few more paces away, and Leta follows him, leaving the scientist on the ground of the paradox pocket. The pocket itself is something of a void between overlapping shifts in time, and it's only by the grace of the technology in their jumpers that they can utilize a pocket while the timeline is sorting itself out again. Like all paradox pockets, the void is both devoid of color but bright enough that everything stands in stark relief. The space is blank, sloped and round like a bubble, and expands by a certain amount until it, inevitably, snaps back into itself. It is not advisable to remain in a pocket when it collapses. They will not be here long.

"What are you thinking?" Leta wonders.

Orion is pensive. He shakes his head, not sure if he should be thinking about anything for the moment. "Let's wait for Koit."

Leta hums in agreement.

It's unusual that Orion and Leta have managed to get the scientist here for several minutes and yet Koit has still not shown up. After all, Koit only had to address the problem of a single sniper, while Leta and Orion faced down nearly a squadron of guards. He exchanges a weighted glance with Leta, wondering if they should go back to retrieve Koit - but then, not a moment too soon, Koit alights in the paradox pocket with a groan and a colorful curse.

"The assassin had a friend," Koit bitches, cradling a nasty wound on the side of his head. "I hate it when they have friends."

That would explain some of the ways everything went wrong. No wonder the windows had been blown out - Koit must have been dealing with a second assassin while the first was operating the sniper. They hadn't anticipated that.

They hadn't anticipated a lot about their mission, it seems. Orion can't forget the slam of invisible pressure from the scientist's telekinesis that foretold the first unexpected complication. Even now, the backs of his shoulders still ache. She had not been gentle in the turbolift.

"We were supposed to take her quietly, so the Alliance would think she simply disappeared," Koit whines. He shoots the unconscious scientist with an accusatory look.

"Yes, but that didn't happen," Leta explains patiently.

"What does that do to the timeline, then?" Koit asks, looking at Orion for answers.

Orion casts a glance up at the void above them. "Fuck if I know."

"I would assume we are dealing with a major divergence," Leta deduces. "Before, her death had made her name fade into obscurity; now, we have created a mystery about her abduction, and the sheer publicity of it -"

"They'll be searching," Orion cuts her off, tone grim.

"If not the Alliance of the past, then the Alliance of the present. We have certainly changed something at this point, but it's unclear what that might be…" Leta trails off, shaking her head. "But yes, I'm certain we will be searched for - or she will, at least."

Orion sighs through his nose. "We need to speak with Matthis and Vo'ongi."

"Agree. Really agree," Koit says, eyes wide and jittery.

"This pocket won't last long enough for that," Leta points out.

Koit is eager to offer a solution. "Then we split up and rendezvous again."

This time it's Orion who shakes his head. "Splitting up will cause more shifts. There's no guarantee that we will be able to meet again and share the same goals -"

At that, Leta clicks her tongue thoughtfully. Her fingers tap against her elbow as she says, "I don't doubt that there is any time where Vo'ongi will see corruption in the Alliance and not make moves to correct it. Even if everything else changes, that will be the same. And I can convince him, if necessary. Matthis, as well."

"Shouldn't they retain some knowledge?" Koit wonders.

"It would depend on how much changed," Orion says gravely. "And a lot has changed."

"But they had on their linear devices," Leta is quick to remind him. "That should protect most, if not all, of their memories. All is not lost, Orion."

Leta does have a point, and so that addresses one-half of the problem. The second half of the problem is still unconscious in the far corner of the paradox pocket. He jerks his head in the scientist's direction. "Fine. What to do about her, then?"

Both Leta and Koit look over. Neither of them says anything for several moments.

"Someone will have to watch her," Koit suggests haltingly. "Protect her. If they're really gunning for her, and based on how hard those assassin dipshits were fighting they definitely do want to kill her, then she's going to need to stay hidden."

"It would be challenging, but manageable," Leta tacks on. "Jumps would have to be deliberate. They'll be searching for quantum shifts."

"Naturally."

Koit wrinkles his nose and takes a big step backward. "Then, can I just say, I do not volunteer for this job?"

"It will have to be Orion," Leta decides. When she catches Orion's vaguely betrayed expression, she merely lifts her brows. "You're our strongest fighter and the most experienced jumper. You're worth five soldiers by yourself. You're more than capable of looking after her until we can meet again and come up with a plan."

Orion presses his lips together, searching for an argument or a way to refute the suggestion. But there is nothing; Leta is precisely right that he is the strongest and most experienced of the three of them here, so it makes sense that he would be demoted to babysitter while Leta and Koit go to rally their group. It doesn't mean he has to like it.

Orion sighs. "What will the rendezvous place be, then?"

"Another pocket. Make one when you believe you are safe and we will watch for it. We will enter when things are settled on our end," Leta tells him.

Orion is not impressed with this plan, but it will have to do for now. He looks over at the scientist, Eden, slumped onto her side and unaware of the monumental shift awaiting her when she wakes. She breathes out through her mouth, heavy and deep. Vulnerable.

He vividly recalls the way she had stared at him so unflinchingly right before the jump - the way she had kept her head cool in the turbolift and forced him away before he could snatch her, quiet and discrete. Giidas, he knows, are supposed to show their emotions in their eyes, but there had been no yellow in the soft grey of her irises. Only steadiness, only focus, only a fierce, frightening sort of intelligence. So very unsettling.

Orion is capable of protecting her by himself. But he still wonders at how easy she will make it.

"Fine," he says at length. "Go on, then. I'll see you when I see you."

Leta dips her head and wordlessly disappears, offering only the slightest smirk before she shimmers out of view.

Koit, though, hesitates with a grimace. He risks a look at the scientists and then claps Orion on the shoulder. "Good luck, brother. I can tell you're going to need it." And then he is gone, too, and Orion is left in a paradox pocket that will fall into itself sooner or later with a scientist whose death had changed the universe for the worse.

But she isn't dead now. They had prevented that, however messily.

Will it matter? Time will tell.

A/N: I said on Facebook that Eden and Orion have the worst meet-cute ever and I meant it lol Things went really pear-shaped with that mission. What happens now? I have no idea. This is probably going to be the most action-packed anything I've ever written. I already low-key miss writing fluff! Anyway! Next update on June 1, 2021.

As always, be honest. I can take it. Stay safe and stay healthy. Drink plenty of water and get your vaccine if you're eligible!

~Rae