UR: I think I should point out that in this story I will often use digidestined to refer to the digidestined and the Tamers. Also, a friend of mine suggested that I post a description of Mark so: Short brown hair, long-sleeve black shirt, windbreaker with the sleeves cut off worn unzipped over the shirt, khakis with grenades hanging from them, big army boots. Sorry about the short chapter.
The digidestined were trying to absorb the history they'd recently been told. "So you were born in 2717? How are you still alive?" "The cause of aging is genetic decay due to the reactiveness of the oxygen you need to live. I don't need oxygen anymore, so I don't age. Now, what's your secret?" "We alter the flow of time. The reactor on our ship creates a powerful energy wake that bends time and space. We can manipulate the wake so that time, but not space, bends around us, effectively removing us from time." The concept disturbed Mark. "There's no way we're both right about aging. One of us is just delaying the inevitable. Hold on, will you; I've got to take this call." The call was not to a cell phone but to his internal communications arrays. He stepped away from the digidestined so they wouldn't hear. "I'm here, what is it?" "What's the status on the crash? Any survivors or salvageable technology?" "I haven't had a chance to look over the ship, but there's a group of survivors. Dimensional wanderers, more than a thousand years old, to judge by their DNA." "Don't tell me you've been converted to Digitalism." "These people aren't gods, though they are clearly who the Digitalists worship. They're also stranded, in need of help, and possessing a level of technology that far surpasses even what the Autocrats have. Give me a week to get them back to their ship, and I'll see to it that we get a fair reward for our aid." "You've got a week on two conditions: First, keep this under wraps. Rumors are already circulating about that crash, and we've shot down 3 aircraft that were trying to reach the site. Those people could help tip the balance of power in our favor, but only if our enemies don't know about them. Second, when that week is up, if they're still on this planet, terminate them." "Sir?" "We can't take the chance that they make contact, intentionally or on accident, with neighboring countries or suspicious citizens. Do you copy?...I repeat: Minuteman, do you copy!?" "I copy, over and out."
When he got back, the digidestined told him they had decided to accept his help, though they clearly didn't trust him. "So, if your ship is in another dimension, how do we contact it?" "We think we can use that escape pod's radio to create a beacon that will transmit to all other worlds, but to be safe, it'll have to work on every frequency." "Not an option. You turn on an omnifrequency transmitter and every city-state on the continent will send their army to investigate." "Okay, then, let's put it into space. Or is that out of the question also?" Mark sighed, "We could put it into space, but I don't know how you could make it worth my while." "Will a hundred pounds of gold boullion make it worth your while?" "Lemme take a look at that ship."
The digidestined were trying to absorb the history they'd recently been told. "So you were born in 2717? How are you still alive?" "The cause of aging is genetic decay due to the reactiveness of the oxygen you need to live. I don't need oxygen anymore, so I don't age. Now, what's your secret?" "We alter the flow of time. The reactor on our ship creates a powerful energy wake that bends time and space. We can manipulate the wake so that time, but not space, bends around us, effectively removing us from time." The concept disturbed Mark. "There's no way we're both right about aging. One of us is just delaying the inevitable. Hold on, will you; I've got to take this call." The call was not to a cell phone but to his internal communications arrays. He stepped away from the digidestined so they wouldn't hear. "I'm here, what is it?" "What's the status on the crash? Any survivors or salvageable technology?" "I haven't had a chance to look over the ship, but there's a group of survivors. Dimensional wanderers, more than a thousand years old, to judge by their DNA." "Don't tell me you've been converted to Digitalism." "These people aren't gods, though they are clearly who the Digitalists worship. They're also stranded, in need of help, and possessing a level of technology that far surpasses even what the Autocrats have. Give me a week to get them back to their ship, and I'll see to it that we get a fair reward for our aid." "You've got a week on two conditions: First, keep this under wraps. Rumors are already circulating about that crash, and we've shot down 3 aircraft that were trying to reach the site. Those people could help tip the balance of power in our favor, but only if our enemies don't know about them. Second, when that week is up, if they're still on this planet, terminate them." "Sir?" "We can't take the chance that they make contact, intentionally or on accident, with neighboring countries or suspicious citizens. Do you copy?...I repeat: Minuteman, do you copy!?" "I copy, over and out."
When he got back, the digidestined told him they had decided to accept his help, though they clearly didn't trust him. "So, if your ship is in another dimension, how do we contact it?" "We think we can use that escape pod's radio to create a beacon that will transmit to all other worlds, but to be safe, it'll have to work on every frequency." "Not an option. You turn on an omnifrequency transmitter and every city-state on the continent will send their army to investigate." "Okay, then, let's put it into space. Or is that out of the question also?" Mark sighed, "We could put it into space, but I don't know how you could make it worth my while." "Will a hundred pounds of gold boullion make it worth your while?" "Lemme take a look at that ship."
