THE PRESENT, 1010 AD

Guardia Castle

The dark legions had raised hell on the countrysides for long enough, the king of Guardia had proclaimed. War would wash this stain from the land, he said. Nothing will wash this stain from my hands, ever. The king is dead. Darious slowly relaxed his grip on the knife in his hand. He had never hated the boy, but the deed had to have been done. It had to have been done, if he wanted his to see his family again, alive. The dagger finally dropped to the ground with a loud clatter, jarring Darious out of his reverie. The body lay before him, mutely mocking him with lips frozen in the shape of his name. He lay there, with the stately robes of office, the lopsided crown... the spiky red hair, the lumeniscent sword...

Crono lay still on the marble floor, the killing weapon dropped at his feet. Darious stepped once backwards, then once again, then turned and scrubbed his face with his hands, just enough get the blood circulating before stepping out and proclaiming the king to be dead.

* * * *

THE FUTURE, 2029 AD

Trann Dome

"Well, this is familiar, isn't it, Crono? Well, I mean, sort of." Lucca garbled.

The rounded building was the old future's Trann Dome, restored to the glory it must have had before Lavos' destructive presence. Its vaulted heights glinted and gleamed in the light, sending reflections everywhere inside the dome. The polarized glass let an even amount of light in at all times, as the tinting of the panes waxed and waned under the afternoon sky. Posters and advertisements hung, like the pennants of Guardia castle, from the fiberglass rafters and cross beams, looking both out of place and at home in this luminescent palace of white. It had the archetecture of a cathedral, but the general atmosphere of a mess hall. People were talking in groups, transporting goods, buying food; just everywhere was commotion and chaos. Doan smiled and let Sonja lead the group in.

"D'ya think it's this bad all the time?" Lucca shouted in Crono's direction. Crono shrugged and said something but it was lost in the din of the atmosphere. Retreating to an elevator in the corner, Sonja again opened the door with her keycard, allowing the doors to close behind them and silence the noise of the atrium beyond.

"Well, it's just about lunchtime now," Doan said.

Taban gaped and sputtered, while giving his daughter a quizzical look. "That's not possible! It was almost 10 when we left Crono's. What gives, Lucca?"

"Well, there's two explainations. First is the technical one: the flux capacators on the Epoch, the prime components of the time/space modification ability, are degrading at an internally consistant rate since their installation." Lucca's eyes went distant as she began talking more to herself than anyone else. "The circuits will be utterly obsolete within a few years, which probably means I'll have to check the decay rate of it's other components. I don't know what to expect though. It could be just as simple as wear and tear, but it could be something more like the Hourglass Effect overflowing the cockpit, maligning the equasion for the time/rate-of- decay functions of the hardware. I may just reroute the power flow to the thrusters to have the Epoch manufacture its own protective shielding to buffer it from unnatural temporal degradation due to-"

Taban, Crono, and Doan looked at her with exactly the same lack of recognition. Lucca blushed deeply, harrumphed, and proceeded embarrassedly. "Ok, moving on. Explaination two: Balthazar never fine-tuned the Epoch. Plus the fact that he was rapidly going insane at the same time didn't help."

Doan streched up to mutter something into Taban's ear. Guessing from the silly grin on Taban's face, she guessed he asked what everyone else always asked him: "Is she always like this?" She clenched her teeth and did her best to look like she didn't care what anyone thought of her.

"Well, you could always try overclocking the flux capacators," Sonja said, joining the conversation for the first time.

"What?"

Sonja leaned back against the wall of the elevator and opened her hand in an aloof gesture. "Sure, it wouldn't be that hard. Crack it open, locate the capacators, and make 'em run faster than they should be able to. It'd compensate for the flow lost through normal wear and tear, but if you have Hourglass Effect overflow, it might just cancel out the whole thing and leave you stranded. The only thing is, you gotta be sure you'd have enough venting and cooling for the thing, otherwise you'd get stranded then, too. That'd keep you running for another two years, if you don't blow 'er out otherwise."

"Not you too, Sonja." Doan reprimanded, jokingly, "What have I said about talking shop while on duty?"

"Sorry sir." Sonja leaned down and whispered the last part in Lucca's ear. "In the meantime, you might want to go over the whole thing with a fine-toothed comb, work out any kinks in the machinery. Like you said, Balthazar was going a little batty at the time, so I bet there'd still be some stuff you could modify."

Lucca gave her a big thumbs up. "Right!"

The elevator slowed it's ascent up into the building's heart, as Director Doan realized something. "Goodness!" Doan said, slapping his palm to his forehead, "It was about ten when you left 1000 AD? How inhospitable I am, dragging you around when you should be getting some rest!" Crono nodded and yawned a huge yawn in response.

"Here, I apologize. Corwyn?" he said, speaking into the com unit on the wall, "Stop the elveator on Level 32, please?" The elevator ceased it's steady motion and the door slid quietly open, revealing another blank, sanitized hall. "Sonja, show them to the sleeping quarters, would you? There are also some things I must attend to, while you rest. Please, pardon me for being so abrupt." Doan smiled and urged Sonja on her way, with the others in tow. The doors shut again without a sound, leaving Doan alone in the silent compartment. "Just a few things to attend to..."

* * * *

"Let me out!" the crotchety old man screamed from inside his cell. "You have no right to shut me in!" Stillness and silence was the only responce he got. "Damn near the only responce I ever get in this frigging hell." The unsteady clomp of boots and jingle of keys in the hall caught his attention. It came closer with leisurely but uneven steps, like a drunkard making his way home in the night. The noises came right up to the door, whereby it was accompanied by a face: the face of the Director.

Doan peered into the cell, sneering at the man imprisoned within. "Well, it certainly seems like your lucky timeline."

The old geyzer just hunched on his bed, and looked sullenly at the man. "You jackass. What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about our beloved Lucca, old-timer. She's here, don't you know."

The man on the bed looked at Doan for a second, blinked, then laughed loud enough to be heard down the hall. "Ha! You honestly think that's supposed to scare me? You don't get it, do you? You're gonna get screwed! She'll find out the crap you're tring to pull with MOIRE and bust it wide open!"

"Listen to me, you-"

The old man leaned forward, with a look in his eye that was startlingly familiar to the Director. "No, you listen to me, 'Doan'," the prisoner said, spitting the name for his lips, "You've set yourself up to take a fall, no matter what you try to do. She's got the power to undo it, and don't think she won't use it if she needs to."

The Director straightened himself up, and stepped away from the grille. "I see. But that shouldn't matter to you, seeing as you've only got four walls to talk to. Good bye, Doan."