Author's note: OK, I'm issuing an addendum to myauthor's notes regarding questions in the previous chapter. If you still have questions (and you very well might after this chapter), and you are going to leave a review, please feel free to ask all the questions you like. I found the questions asked in reviews of chapter 6 (VI) to be extremely helpful, because they compelled me to go back over my notes and make sure I would be addressing all these issues at some point in the story. So a quick thanks to Jezrianna 2.0 and Spritekin, because their inquiries made me want to make sure they would be addressed in the story at some point.
Story Highlight: Willk1989's recently completed "Everlasting Love" which contains what I thought was a pretty nifty scheme employed by Drakken. Follow the link in his profile.
My thanks to all who are reading.
My special thanks to those who are reviewing: The Opal Fairy, Furlings are Cats, Jokerisdaking, Dreammergurl2997, Classic Cowboy, Spooks-A-Lot, JPMod, Melissa Ivory, LKillingsworth, recon228, PotentialBoy, Jexrianna2.0, The Incredible Werekitty, Mobius97, aimtbj, Widow Shark, Willk1989, Sestren NK, ps2teen1213, SpriteKin, BabyMama9672, and who cares what my name is.
I hope y'all enjoyed the humor of the previous chapters, because I'm afraid it gets rather dark…
VII.
Ron's grip tightened again, but otherwise he was fairly calm in the face of the threat he'd just received from the future version of his brother-in-law.
"What happened to you, Tim?" He asked quietly, "Forty years working on the same project make you a little crazy?"
"I guess I'm not used to making threats," Tim answered, the fear in his voice palpable.
"At least none that make any sense," Ron observed, "If you don't send me back, how can I have a marriage that goes bad?"
Tim gestured toward the active computer monitor Ron had been staring at just moments before.
"Go take a look," he offered.
Ron let go of the older man and walked over to the monitor. The entry for Ron's biographical summary was still there, but on closer inspection, Ron noticed many of the words were not those he had read previously.
Childhood friend, sidekick, and onetime husband to Kim Possible, Ron Stoppable made a name for himself as the mysterious ninja hero called 'Ronin'. Eight months after marrying the world famous teen hero and Nobel Prize winning neurosurgeon, he disappeared without a trace, and was presumed dead. Kim Possible spent three years searching for clues to his whereabouts but finally gave up and married again. Stoppable's disappearance remains a mystery to this day, though many have speculated that he was a victim of a revenge plot by one of the many villains he had thwarted over the years. His father died of a heart attack at the age of fifty-five, soon after Stoppable was officially declared dead. His mother died soon after that.
Ron reeled back from the monitor.
"What kind of trick is this?" He demanded.
"No trick," Tim assured him, "You were declared 'missing' because you never went back to your own time. Because I never allowed you to go back. And now, thanks to your curiosity, your mother dies before her time, because you weren't there to keep her company."
Ron felt his sanity begin to slip a little, it all made sense to him, and yet, it didn't.
"But I haven't done anything yet! I mean, I could still go back!" Ron protested.
Tim shook his head sadly, "I'm sorry, but you can't. Not with the knowledge you have now."
"Because I would save my marriage and you'd lose a chunk of your family!" Ron growled.
"No," Tim said patiently, "You won't be able to save your marriage. If you go back now, with the knowledge that you have, you'll do everything you can to make sure Kim is happy. You'll worry over every little detail, and fret over the smallest meaning of everything she says. What normally would be a minor drama of a marital argument will always end with you apologizing profusely just to placate her. Eventually she'll become frustrated and leave you, and your marriage will be over. You see, it is very likely that the knowledge that you get divorced is what causes the divorce."
"You don't know that."
"I've run the simulations on the computer with every possible variable known to exist. The end is always the same. Either you go back and you and Kim get divorced, or you don't return, and Kim moves on with her life after awhile. It's happened before and it will happen again." Tim explained.
Ron was now thoroughly confused, "How could this have happened before?"
Tim walked over to the computer monitor and cleared it. Then he drew his finger across it and a line appeared where his finger had traveled. He placed an 'X' at either end of the line.
"This represents the time between when you stepped through the portal (he pointed at the 'X' on the left side of the screen), and when you arrived here in my lab (and here he pointed at the 'X' on the right). You have leaped across all this time and arrived in what you perceive as the future. When you return – if you return – you will be in a time some forty years before you finish stepping through the portal. Events in this time period will be affected by what you have learned today. Each of the events could potentially influence what happens when you arrive at this end (and here he pointed at the end of the line that represented Ron's perception of the future) and thus cause you to make decisions when you return that could have an even greater effect on events throughout this period of time. In Temporal Physics, we call this a Causality Loop; or at least, one of the basic levels of Causality Loops. There are several different classifications, but we don't need to get into that here."
"OK", Ron's mind was a complete blank, "So let's say I return to my own time. I live out my life and, as your computer thing said a few minutes ago, Kim and I get divorced. This leads to things like her having children-"
Ron felt a twinge at this. Just the idea of Kim married to someone else filled him with a despair that went deep. His concentration was crushed under dark thoughts.
"-OK… you lost me" He finished, "What if I decide to go back and do something drastic? Let's say I do, why isn't the time line shifting as we speak?"
"Everything between these two X's is in a state of flux." Tim explained, "It won't settle until you do go back and live out your life…or don't. It's like dropping a rock into a stream; the ripples travel in one direction, and they altar the flow. Granted sometimes those alterations are imperceptible, but sometimes they can have devastating effects. If you go back and somehow manage to keep your marriage together, it will have a devastating effect on the course of history."
Ron said nothing, but his eyes demanded explanation. Tim got the message. He pulled up another biography and gestured for Ron to read it.
"It's about my niece," Tim said quietly.
Patricia Mankey: Daughter of artist Joshua Mankey and Nobel Prize winning neurosurgeon Kimberly Mankey (See also "Kim Possible"). Patricia won the Nobel Peace Prize for her work on the Jordan Accords while in her role as the U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations. She is largely credited with bringing a lasting peace to the long troubled region of nation-states commonly referred to as the Middle East. It was her innovative suggestion to create a self-governing city-state out of Jerusalem, similar in style and governance to the Vatican in Rome. Many years of negotiations ushered in an era of peace and stability that continues today…
"Josh Mankey?" The discouragement in Ron's voice was evident.
"It was his second marriage as well," Tim said, "Both of them were distraught and sort of lonely. They found comfort in each other and it went from there. But I think you're missing the bigger picture here, Ron."
"Which is…?"
"Patricia's work saved potentially millions of lives. The terrorist acts that were common in your time finally escalated into a full-scale war, complete with all the trimmings; massive civilian losses, fringe countries dragged into a conflict they didn't want, and finally, genocide." Tim paused to let the words sink in, "Do you really want to return and have that on your head? What's worse is, you'll be the only person who knows that it all could have been prevented. You'll be the temporal cause of all those deaths."
Ron's mind tried vainly to comprehend it all.
Now certainly, a great many more questions would have occurred to someone other than Ron. Questions such as 'What if Ron goes back and tells young Tim not to finish the Chronos Project?' or 'What if Ron makes his marriage work and tells Kim the idea for bringing about peace in the middle east?' or any number of a hundred variants that might have exposed a potential flaw in Tim's reasoning.
But this was still Ron Stoppable. Yes he was a mission-hardened warrior, and yes, he'd had a great deal of experience in the field. But never had he felt feelings of distrust in a family member, and combined with the evidence he'd just been presented with, it was a great deal to process. Ron wasn't dumb, or slow, he just had a tendency to be preoccupied, even with something that may have just come to his attention. Ron was one of those people who needed to process information before moving on to asking questions.
Since the moment when it seemed Tim's equipment had become inoperable, Ron began to feel frightened. Ron felt like a lost child, and he wanted to go home. Initially, it was a fear that he would never see Kim again, but now it had blossomed into a deep-seeded dread of the knowledge that his time with Kim was limited, and that it would not end pleasantly.
Was that the way he wanted things?
If, when the time came that Kim wanted his fortune, he would simply allow her to have it. He didn't want his final memories of his Soul Mate to be of a bitter custody dispute over money.
Ron realized he had come to a decision. Better to have that three years with Kim, then no more time with her at all. At least at the point when he left his own time, they were still very much in love. Ron made sure he would savor the memories when they were made, and then respectfully step out of the way when history came knocking at Kim's door.
Or rather, the door belonging to the daughter of Kim and Josh Mankey.
Despair at the thought washed over Ron like a toxic wave. Images of Kim giving herself to someone else, even having his children, began to torture him. Suddenly he didn't want to go back, but he didn't want his mother to perish either.
And was it possible that this new depression taking root in Ron would be what finally drives Kim away?
"I'll go back", he said, almost in a whisper, "And I promise I won't interfere."
Tim came over to him and smiled a sad, sympathetic little smile. He put his hand on Ron's shoulder.
"You're a good man, Ron Stoppable. If I thought there was some way of keeping you and Kim together, and still bringing about the important events I told you of, you know I would find that solution."
Ron simply nodded dejectedly in response.
"I think we're ready to go," Tim informed him, "Just stand right over there."
Tim pointed, and Ron obeyed, walking over to the designated spot like a puppy that's suddenly found itself out in the rain and trying its pathetic best to stay dry. As the seconds ticked by, his depression worsened.
Tim pushed a few buttons on a control panel and an image appeared in the air, like a frameless picture hung on an invisible nail. The image elongated to a width and length large enough for Ron to step through.
"Any time you're ready," Tim said respectfully.
Ron took a half step toward the image, and then froze.
What are you doing?
Just a few moments ago, Tim had uttered those words in alarm, startling Ron from his place at the computer monitor. Ron turned to look at Tim.
"It's OK," Tim said reassuringly, "It'll be just like when you came through. It won't hurt at all."
"What happened to dinner?" Ron asked a seemingly abstract question. Those other questions were finally beginning to occur to Ron.
"I'm sorry?" Tim looked confused.
"I said 'What happened to dinner'?" Ron took a determined step toward Tim, "You didn't return with any food. And parts. You said you were going to go pick up parts, as though the time traveling equipment weren't fixed. But now it seems to be working properly. You haven't made a single repair to it since you got back. Why is it suddenly working now?"
"Ron, I think you're confused-"
"No! No, I am not confused. What would happen if I went back and simply told your younger self not to complete the Chronos project? Then I wouldn't come forward into the future!" Suddenly a thousand questions crowded into Ron's mind.
"Ron-"
"Why did the information change on the monitor when I hadn't even decided whether or not I would be going back? And why Josh? Why not one of the guys she knew in college? Why would it be someone I know?"
Tim produced a small device from his lab coat pocket, extended his arm, and suddenly Ron found himself enveloped in a soft, yellow field of light. He was no longer able to remain standing on the floor, but rather hovered a few inches above it.
"You've put me in a difficult position, Ron." Tim said, almost sadly, "I can't allow you to stay. Too many questions, you understand. But unfortunately I can't send you back to your own time either. And since terminating your life isn't something I can bring myself to do, especially to my old friend, then I find I am left with only one alternative."
Ron began to feel cold. In a way, he knew what was about to happen.
Tim walked over to a control panel and punched a few buttons, "I thought that if I kept you here for a couple of days, you might forget all these questions and just become impatient to get home. You always did have a short attention span after all."
Ron's mind raced. He found he could move, but only within the confines of the gravimetric field.
"Obviously I underestimated you. Even your short marriage to my sister has had a positive influence on you. You asked the questions a lot sooner than I anticipated." Tim droned on.
"You know who you sound like?" Ron finally spoke up.
"Who?"
"Every villain Kim and I ever faced. You're actually ranting." Ron concluded with a fair amount of wonder in his voice, "What happened to you?"
"I grew up," Tim informed him, "Something you never did. By the way, that's what ultimately drove my sister to divorce you. Of course, I am about to change the timeline, and Kim will ultimately give up on you. This means that the inevitable shift in the timeline will cause my memories to change, and I'm actually looking forward to that. The divorce really was a bitter one. Just about tore our family apart. And I like our family the way it is now."
Ron found himself rotating in the air, facing the portal. The image had changed to something completely unrecognizable. He began to panic.
"Don't do this, Tim," He said frantically, "We can work something out."
"We are working something out. And you know what? I think I'll keep Rufus here with me. Where you're going, I don't think a talking naked mole rat would have too long to live."
Rufus had been hiding in Ron's pocket since they'd arrived, more afraid of time travel than Ron had been. Suddenly, the mole rat found himself floating out of pocket and out of reach of Ron.
"Rufus!"
Ron flew through the portal and landed with a grunt on a wet, wooden surface. The yellow field no longer held him. He scrambled to his feet, turning to face the spot where the portal might be.
"Good luck, Ron."
The portal began to shrink, Ron took two steps and dove for it.
"You're going to need it," Tim's voice sounded very far away as the portal shrank to nothing.
Ron landed on the wooden surface again, this time much more painfully.
"You there!" came a gruff voice, "Who are you and what are you doing out on deck?"
Ron became aware of many confusing things at once. First, it was raining, which was why the wooden surface was wet. Second, he was on a very large sail boat of some kind; an old one, by the look of it, which was why the wet surface was wooden. Third, the boat was rocking back and forth with considerably alarming force. Fourth, it was dark, and very likely night time.
And fifth, the voice that had just yelled at him spoke in Latin, and he'd understood every single word.
"A WEEK!" Kim almost screamed, leaping to her feet.
"You have not seen agent Stoppable at all in the last forty-eight hours?" Wil Du demanded.
"No, Sir!" Tim said growing alarmed.
Du balled up his fist and slammed it down on the surface of his desk.
"Yes, sir?" came a transmitted voice.
"Security breach!" Du hollered into the unseen microphone, "Initiate Directive Seven! This is not a drill!"
Alarms suddenly blared, red lights began to flash. An urgent but calm voice was heard over the P.A. system.
"This is a Global Justice priority alert! Global Justice headquarters is now officially in lockdown status. All non-operations personnel will proceed to the cafeteria and await further instructions. Everyone else is instructed to remain at their stations until directed otherwise."
The message began to repeat. Wil punched a couple of buttons on his desk and the P.A. was muted.
"Agent Possible, I need you to return to your lab and prepare the tests involved with a Directive Seven alert."
"Yes, sir," Tim answered, then turned to his sister, "Everything's going to be all right."
Tim exited Du's office.
"What's going to hap-"
"I do not have time for your questions." Du said dismissively.
"Excuse me?" Kim demanded, anger rising in her voice.
"This is no time for emotional outbursts, Mrs. Stoppable," Wil looked directly at her.
"Emotional outbursts!" Kim practically shouted, "My husband is missing and you don't want me to get emotional?…Hey!… What are you doing? Let go of me!"
Du had come around his desk and grabbed her by the arm, hauling her to her feet.
"I think you had better come with me." Du said coldly, leading her to a side door.
Kim was so shocked it his behavior, she found she couldn't react with any kind of force. Ron's disappearance was still foremost in her mind.
Du flung open the side door, thrust Kim through it, then stepped in and closed the door after himself. It was dark at first, but Du found the switch. They were in a small room, barely larger than a supply closet. There were two chairs facing each other. Du sat in one and motioned Kim to sit in the other. She refused without saying a word.
"This is a clean room," Du said waving his hands about, "It is scanned and inspected once a day for bugs or other surveillance equipment."
Kim narrowed her eyes and looked at him, not quite understanding why he would say something like this.
"I need your help," Du said quietly.
Kim sat down.
"My office has a computer terminal and an intercom, it might be possible for someone to monitor our conversation if we talked out there." Du continued.
"OK," Kim said waiting for more.
"Our encrypted e-mail program is one of the highest levels of security we have at GJ. Someone has breached that level of security, and it is very likely your husband is involved."
"Are you saying-?" Kim began, horrified.
"No." Du said emphatically, "Ron's naiveté is frustrating sometimes, but it also means he's virtually incapable of treachery. I believe whoever is involved with the security breach is also involved with the disappearance of your husband."
Kim tried to remain calm as she absorbed what he told her, "Do you suspect Tim of being involved in this?"
Du was silent for a few seconds, "My instincts tell me 'no'. But since the e-mail in question purportedly came from him, he will have to be investigated."
"And what about you?" Kim challenged.
"Naturally, I am suspect number one." Du answered evenly, "And once we move beyond clearing me, and your brother, then we can get about the business of discovering the mole."
"Do you really think there is an internal spy at GJ?"
"In order for these e-mails to be sufficiently falsified, there has to be. Only someone working on the inside would have access to the proper encryption codes." Du said icily. Kim knew his anger wasn't directed at her. Someone had breached security at his agency on his watch. This was almost as personal to him as her missing husband was to her.
"What do you want me to do?" Kim asked.
"What you were going to do anyway; search for your husband." Du said firmly, "But I need you to conduct your investigation with the aim of discovering who the mole is. It's entirely likely that Ron found out about the spy and was removed from the agency by duplicitous force so as not to reveal his secret."
"But that means Ron might be-"
"I doubt that very much," Du cut her off, "Whoever they are, they know by now we've discovered their presence, and they know we'll be coming after them. If they're smart, they'll realize they need Stoppable alive to use as leverage. They'll either use him as a hostage, or a bargaining chip to trade for information or a means of escape. Your husband's alive, Mrs. Stoppable… Kim… and he will not be left behind."
Kim found herself grateful for Wil's calm but resolute demeanor. It helped her to stay calm as well. Years ago, they had apprehended Duff Killagin during a mission that could have gone better than it had. She and Wil had their differences, and she didn't think very much of him at the time. Now she was seeing the reasons why Du had earned his way to the senior position at Global Justice.
"There are a couple more things" Du went on, "First, we'll need to resort to more – shall we say – 'classic' methods of relaying information. Don't e-mail me or call me. Even the land lines might be tapped. Every morning I will drive by the gate in front of your driveway. If you have information for me, tape it, in an envelope, to the gate and I will retrieve it. If there is no envelope, I will assume you have no information for me. It will need to continue like this for some time until we clear all our usual methods of communication for use again. Here, use these. They're weatherproof"
Wil reached into a nearby drawer and retrieved a stack of envelopes.
"Weatherproof. Impressive." Kim said, taking them.
"Standard issue for all top agents," Wil managed a slight smile, "One more thing. We cannot be seen together in public, and it should appear as though we are quarrelling. You are about to be subjected to the Directive Seven tests. I want you to act indignant at having to take them and blame me for everything that has happened."
"Because…?"
"If the mole believes I have brushed you off as an emotional wife of a missing agent, he will be less likely to suspect that you are attempting to find him. I will make a few remarks about how you are unqualified for field work, and that GJ can handle it without your help. In fact, I'm going to give you several orders about how you are not to conduct any kind of investigation of your own. The mole will undoubtedly observe this and will not look too hard in your direction. This should give you more freedom in conducting your investigation without fear of potential interference from the spy."
"I understand," Kim said quietly. "And thank you."
"I should be thanking you," Du said, standing up, "Rest assured finding your husband is our top priority while our security concerns come second. Once we feel we have sufficiently isolated the mole from GJ's internal workings, we'll begin to take a more active role in the search for agent Stoppable. If and when you do find him, call me immediately, even if it's as early as today. I'll have every available agent move in. Now, I'm going to need you to go storming angrily out this door."
Kim stood, hesitating a second, trying to work up some anger at a man who, at the moment, she could only feel grateful to for his reassurances. Kim wasn't too worried. Ron had been a hostage before, and he probably would be again. It was with more than a little irony that Kim realized she would have had better luck being angry at Wil Du ten years ago, when she genuinely disliked him. Now she was going to have to work up some staged anger in order to pull this off.
Kim thought how funny it would be to travel back to that moment when Ron and Wil Du first met. If she could have told Du that Ron would be a DFO at Global justice, doing occasional freelance work for Du, and that they all would be friends, even the Kim of thirteen years ago would have laughed derisively at such a notion. It was a weird world sometimes.
Kim flung open the door and stormed out into Du's office. The door to the outer complex was wide open, and everyone out there heard her voice. "…totally unacceptable! You have no right to tell me whether or not I can look for my husband!"
"Mrs. Stoppable," Wil replied in his loudest, most condescending voice, "I am sure your concern for agent Stoppable is genuine, but he is still a Global Justice Deep Field Operative, and as such, the jurisdiction of this investigation lies with us. You will kindly limit your involvement in this matter to the nature of your spousal relationship."
"Don't get all 'secret agent-y' with me, Du. Let's not forget Global Justice actively recruited me for a mission they felt YOU needed help with." Kim shot back.
"Those days are clearly long past," Du said coolly.
Kim said nothing, but glared angrily at him. By this time they had both made their way to the main room of the outer complex. All eyes, ears, and one or two cameras were turned toward them.
Someone coughed nervously. It was Tim. "Um…director Du?" he clearly looked uncomfortable, "The Directive Seven tests are ready."
"Start with yourself," Du ordered him.
Tim looked a little taken aback, but did as he was ordered. He withdrew a small pistol-shaped device from a case and held it to his shoulder, pulling the trigger. Everyone in the room heard a slight hissing noise followed by several clicks. Tim pulled a tiny strip of clear material from the device and placed it in a nearby portable machine, punching several buttons. Du walked over to him and observed the testing process very closely.
After a couple minutes of humming and blinking, the portable testing machine displayed results on a small screen. Tim leaned over to look at them, but Du stepped in front of him and examined the results himself.
"Chemical analysis and DNA match is confirmed. You are neither a clone, nor are you a syntho-drone or any variant of the two. There are no traces of foreign chemicals in your blood, nor are there any artificial electronic devices either in you or on your person. You're clean.
Tim nodded.
"Now test me," Du ordered.
Tim did so, and everyone waited for several tense minutes as the results were processed. They also turned out negative.
"Now for Mrs. Stoppable." Du said turning to face her.
"What?" Kim practically shouted, "I won't subject myself to your stupid tests. I'm not a clone or a syntho-drone or anything like that."
"You will subject yourself, or you will find yourself subjected against your wishes." Du insisted, looking directly at her.
"Hey," Tim began nervously, "There's no need-"
"This is not your concern," Du turned on him.
Kim angrily rolled up her sleeve and strode over to where Du and Tim were standing.
"Do it," Kim said with venom.
Tim administered the test. While Du looked at the screen, waiting for the results, Kim never took her icy stare away from Du.
"Negative," Tim said simply after a few minutes.
"Like I said," Kim barked at Du.
"You may go," Du said dismissively, "And I remind you to stay out of this internal GJ matter."
Kim ignored him and made her way to the elevator that would take her up to ground level. A guard released the elevator lockout and Kim stepped aboard turning around to face the closing doors. She locked eyes with Wil Du who gave her an almost imperceptible nod.
She returned it just before the doors slid closed.
"I do not understand what-" Ron began then halted. OK, not only could he now understand Latin, but apparently he could speak it fluently.
A tall man carrying a spear strode across the soaked, unstable deck to address him. He wore no helmet, but did wear leather chest armor, a tunic beneath it, a red sort of kilt, and leather boots laced up to the shins.
"I do not recognize your face", the man said harshly, "And I do not remember seeing you at port. Where did you come from? Who are you?"
"Signifer!" Barked another voice, "What is the meaning of this commotion?"
The first man put his balled fist over his heart in a salute, "My liege, I beg your indulgence. I believe I have discovered a stowaway."
The gears in Ron's mind cranked into overdrive. These were Roman soldiers, on a ship, and by the less-than-sparkling appearance of both their uniforms, it was safe to assume he hadn't materialized in some amusement park somewhere. These were the days of the ancient Roman Empire. Tim certainly had flung him far enough from his own time that he likely would have no effects on the events surrounding Kim's life.
And what of this sudden ability to speak and understand Latin? Was this a side-effect of time travel? Best save that question for later. What to say to these two?
Ron could tell the truth. But somehow telling these men he was from the future might earn him whatever barbaric methods they used to treat the insane. So Ron, being Ron, decided to bluff his way through the ensuing conversation.
He had help in the form of a rather lengthy dissertation he did in college that involved Roman history near the time of its decline. He summoned every scrap of information he could remember from his time spent researching his dissertation and mentally rolled the dice.
"Who are you?" the second Roman demanded.
"I am Ron…aldus. Ronaldus… Sicarius. I am a special envoy direct from the Emperor himself." Ron held his breath.,
"An 'envoy'? To the Princess?"
"Yes," Ron said hesitantly.
"Why such urgency? Why didn't Honorius send you to Eyre to await our arrival?" the second man asked.
Ron let out a tiny breath of relief. He'd guessed right about the time period. Time to whip up an answer, "The Emperor believes our presence in Eyre will establish a potential foothold back into Britannia. He wishes to begin a diplomatic relationship with the Princess as soon as possible. I rode from Rome with all haste to meet you."
"A 'diplomatic relationship'? With such a small country as the land of Eyre? Why not simply conquer it?" The second man asked, puzzled. The first had left his prisoner in the charge of his superior officer and resumed his post.
Ron decided to push his bluff to its limit.
"I did not realize the Empire had given a lowly Centurion leave to question its judgment." He said in his best authoritative tone, "I was chosen for this mission because of my familiarity with Eyre and Britannia itself. I was born in Britannia, in fact. But perhaps we might talk somewhere not so damp?"
The Centurion was visibly chastened by Ron's use of his rank. He led Ron to a small tent-like structure on the top deck.
The boat was a long, two-masted sailing vessel with one top deck and a lower interior deck. One small sail was aloft, keeping the vessel moving before the wind and rain. As he was escorted over to the shelter, Ron tried to get his heart to slow down. So far his bluff seemed to be holding, thanks to his little knowledge of Roman history and his newfound ability to speak Latin.
"What did you say your name was?" The Centurion asked. The one he had called 'signifer' – which means 'standard bearer' – had taken up a post just outside the shelter. Ron couldn't begin to guess what he might be guarding against on a boat.
"Ronaldus Sicarius," Ron answered, again trying to sound authoritative, "That is my Roman name. My birth name is Succat Morgannwg, son of Calpernius. I have been called by the name Corthirthiac in the past."
"I know of you," The Centurion said in a slightly awed tone.
"Wait", Ron held up his hand in silence, "Let me guess where you know me from. You have heard of me because of my involvement with the defeat of the three legions in Northern Gaul under General Septimus."
"You were the only one who survived the battle," the Centurion said.
"Ah", Ron corrected him, "Not the only survivor. I rode off the battlefield with Vicarius Collumella."
The Centurion nodded, satisfied to some degree, "Not many people know this. The tale is always told that you were the lone survivor of the battle."
"If that were the case, then I should have found myself without a benefactor." Ron reminded him.
The Centurion laughed, "Of course! You are Patrician, I had forgotten that part. Ah! Where are my manners! Please, have some wine."
"Patrician, yes," Ron adopted a tone of mild melancholy. He was beginning to warm to this bluff of his, "The life of a politician is not one I would have chosen."
"But you could soon be a Tribune, perhaps even the General of the Roman Garrison." The Centurion said in an even more awed voice. He poured Ron a goblet of wine, then one for himself, and changed the subject, "So you joined us at the port of Masallis this morning?"
"Yes," Ron feigned an exhausted tone of voice, "After a hard ride from Rome. I was sent only with a squad of soldiers as escort and we were set upon by highwaymen in the mountains. They took my orders, my credentials, and the special seal from Emperor Honorius. I arrived at port this morning barely in time to board your vessel and I've been asleep the entire day. I don't think anyone besides you and your signifer know I am aboard."
"I apologize for my impudent tone earlier. I thought you a stowaway, but as you lost your credentials I trust you can understand my reaction." The Centurion said humbly.
Ron gave him a dismissive wave, "In truth, were I not so tired, I should find myself very angry with you. But you are fortunate I am near exhaustion. And quite hungry."
"Signifer!" the Centurion barked, "Bring bread for the Imperator!"
Ron blanched at the word 'Imperator'. It was a term used to describe a hero of the Empire. He realized he may have overplayed his hand. Perhaps he should have told the truth to this Roman, instead of identifying himself as the man who would eventually become known as St. Patrick.
"Aha!" a shout of triumph, "At last it is ready!"
He finished tightening a few bolts and stood back to admire his newly created mechanical beast.
Shego looked up from the magazine she was reading, her face showing only mild interest, "This is that battlebot thingy, right?"
"Yes, Shego, it is," Drakken said patiently, and launched into rant mode, "With this battlebot plugged into the internet, it will monitor all the global events and alert me to when the world's governments are at their weakest! Then, using this information, it will devise a strategy so ingenious… is it 'ingenious'? Or do I just say 'genius'? Do both words mean the same thing?"
"Not where your plans are concerned," Shego said reflexively. Old habits died very hard in Drakken's lair.
"Is it so hard to muster up an even vaguely encouraging word?" Drakken whined.
"Apparently," Shego replied, not looking up from the magazine this time.
"Just once," Drakken muttered, "I'd like to get through ONE rant without the snide remarks. I mean really, Shego, you're just like those talking robots on TV who watch all those bad movies and make fun of them. I mean, someone put a lot of effort into making those movies, but are their feelings considered? Of course not!-"
"Whoa! Time out Drew," Shego held her hands up in a 'T' formation, "You're ranting about a TV show that isn't even on anymore. Are you aware of this?"
Drakken blinked. "It was canceled?"
"Yeah, like ten years ago! Doy!"
"But I still see it on that Space Channel!" Drakken complained.
"Yeah, I know," Shego explained, "They're re-running it into the ground."
Drakken sighed a melancholy sigh, "Cable TV certainly is a harsh mistress."
"OK, let's focus, shall we?"
"Ah yes," Drakken picked his rant back up, "This battlebot will monitor events through the internet. At some point in the future, it will alert me as to the right time to take over the world, based on its information and a strategy devised using the most advanced artificial intelligence available.."
"Oh," She said, "So this isn't something we'll fail at today. Is that what you're saying?"
"Yes. Wait! What?"
Shego giggled, "Oh goody, something to look forward to!"
Drakken gave her a wry look and pressed a button on the control panel. A large trap door slid open and a platform elevator was just pulling even with the floor. Drakken strapped himself into the battlebot and walked it over to the platform. Then the entire assembly sank into the floor as the elevator descended.
Ten minutes later Drakken was back up in the lair and testing out his connections to the battlebot.
"Success!" Drakken shouted, "It's already gathering information! Now I simply wait until it announces the right time to take over the world. This could take a few years."
"Well," Shego quipped, "Maybe we should take up a hobby in the meantime.
"Shego!" Drakken snapped at her in frustration, "This is a standby scheme. This doesn't mean we put any other projects on hold."
"And here I was hoping for a vacation" Shego said rolling her eyes.
"Oh please," Drakken said turning away from the monitor on the bank of computers, "It's not as if you've been very busy this last year. I mean you could-"
An alarm sounded behind him. Drakken stopped in his tracks and blinked twice.
"Already?" he was confused, "That seemed much too soon."
"Maybe you forgot to put the 'intelligence' in the artificial intelligence," Shego suggested.
Drakken ignored her and pulled up the information on the monitor, studying it carefully for quite some time.
"Oh, snap!" he muttered.
"What's up?" She was genuinely curious, Drakken sounded worried.
Drakken didn't answer, but stared at the monitor for a very long time. Then he walked away from the monitor, pacing back and forth and muttering to himself.
"Um…Drew?" Shego was suddenly worried.
"Shego," He said at last, "I need you to go pick something up for me."
"Pick up something like at the store, or pick up something like at a top secret lab?" Shego inquired.
"Top secret lab," he scribbled a few things on a piece of paper, "Here is a description of the item and its last known whereabouts."
Shego read the piece of paper, "This thing again?"
Drakken stepped up to her and put a hand on each of her shoulders. He looked straight into her eyes.
"This is serious. You must hurry,"
Shego simply nodded and slipped out of the lair in all haste. She was genuinely frightened largely because she had never seen him this frightened.
Anyone who had just found out her husband was missing would probably call that a bad day. Kim certainly did. She was worried, of course, and hoped Ron was all right. Investigating his disappearance would help keep her mind off what might be happening to him.
Her investigation had begun two days ago, meaning Ron had been missing for twice that long. This morning, Kim had a few things written down on a piece of paper and taped an envelope to the gate at the end of the driveway.
Unfortunately for Kim, she was about to receive some news that would put a huge damper on today as well.
She was at the restaurant where she, Monique and Ron had lunch the day Ron disappeared four days before. She'd already tracked down the messenger service that had delivered the package but that particular lead went nowhere. The messenger said he'd received an e-mail asking him to pick up a package and the accompanying payment at a first floor office downtown. She'd been to the office and found a cellular company that had received an anonymous order for a pre-paid phone and enough money to pay the messenger for his ensuing errand.
Kim had asked if the payment was made by credit card and the answer was no. Wire transfer from an offshore bank account. Wade was working on tracking down the account and who might own it.
In the meantime, Kim went back to the restaurant to see if there were any security cameras on the premises that might have caught an image of the cab, it's company name and perhaps a phone number on the side.
The Kimunicator beeped.
"Bad news," Wade said, "I tracked down the account the money was transferred from."
"Why is that bad news?" Kim asked.
"It was your account," Wade said simply.
"What?"
"Someone accessed your account and paid the cell phone company and the messenger service with your money." Wade paused, "It gets worse."
"How much worse?" Suddenly, Kim didn't want to know.
"The account's been cleaned out. On a hunch I followed up some of your other accounts. They've all been emptied out." Wade said grimly.
"All? They've all been cleaned out?" Kim suddenly needed to sit down, "You're telling me someone's kidnapped Ron and now they've stolen all our money?"
"Yeah," Wade said slowly, "And from what I can tell, this has been going on for quite a few months. The account used to pay for the cell phone was the last of yours and Ron's to be emptied."
"How much was that in total?" Kim asked closing her eyes.
"About three hundred million in different off-shore accounts. Another ten million in domestic accounts, savings bonds, T-bills and other things. Either Ron or someone else issued the authorizations to cash it all in." Wade finished.
"Can you track where it went?" Kim asked trying to calm the throbbing in her head. This was all too much to absorb at one time, "It must have been transferred somewhere."
"There are several reasons why people put their money in off shore bank accounts. The reason Ron and I did was because there is a maximum amount of money you can put into a domestic U.S. account before tax rates begin to ramp up exponentially." Wade explained hurriedly, "Another reason is that many off shore banks don't keep records of transfers or where those transfers came from or went. They don't ask questions, they just want your money."
"Which is why you always hear about villains and crooks putting their money into off shore banks." Kim concluded, "OK…I … I just can't deal with this right now. I've got to find Ron, and we'll go from there."
"I understand", Wade acknowledged.
"Um…where were we?" Kim tried to clear her head, "The restaurant security cameras. Can you tap into them?"
"Give me a minute," Wade was silent for awhile, "Got it. Where was the cab when it pulled up?"
Kim thought for a moment, "Just west of the front entrance, right next to the patio where we were eating."
"Just as I thought," Wade said, "There's no camera in place to cover that area. Only interior cameras and one exterior camera covering the immediate area of the front entrance."
"Terrific," Kim sighed, "Another dead end. Maybe we can-"
"Hold up a minute Kim," Wade said, "Take a look at this."
Kim looked at the Kimunicator screen. Wade streamed video that played out in fast motion. It showed a black and white image of the entrance area to the restaurant with people waking rapidly in and out. Every few seconds a cab would pull up and then shoot away.
"This is video of the last few days," Wade said, "Notice anything?"
Kim looked hard at the screen, "Can you slow it down?"
"I can do better than that," Wade informed her, "Here's a series of still shots of all the cabs that have pulled up to the restaurant in the last two days."
One image after the other popped up on the screen. At about the fifth image, Kim figured it out, "They're all from the same cab company!"
"Right!" Wade confirmed, "Sometimes restaurants and clubs have exclusive deals with cab companies. If you get in a cab and say 'take me to a club' they'll always take you to the club they have a pre-arranged deal with. If you're at the club – or restaurant – and you need a cab, the club will call only one cab company. Basically it's two companies scratching each other's backs."
"Can you patch me through to the cab company?"
"Already on it," Wade answered.
"Wade," Kim was glad for at least a little good news, "You rock in digital surround sound."
Twenty minutes later, the same cab driver that picked up Ron pulled up in front of the restaurant. Kim got in and asked him a few questions.
It took awhile for the driver to remember, but once he did, he took Kim to a non-descript office building. Kim got out and looked up. There was nothing necessarily extraordinary about the building itself, but this was the last place anyone had seen Ron alive. Kim's instincts were telling her something was up at this place.
She took out the Kimunicator and had Wade patch her through to Wil Du.
The bread was edible. The wine was not. Ron realized he'd traveled back to a world that wouldn't know the concept of refrigeration for more than a thousand years hence. Then all kinds of implications began to occur to him; things such as indoor plumbing, or video games. The Centurion interrupted his thoughts.
"Your clothes are of a style I have never seen before." He remarked casually.
"Nor are you likely to for some time. These are the latest fashions from Byzantium. But I do not think them very becoming. They were a gift from a friend." Ron replied. He could tell the Centurion wanted to discuss something more important and was trying to break the ice.
After a moment of silence he was finally forthcoming.
"It is important that you understand I am not in the habit of questioning the Empire, or its leaders." He said eagerly.
"What? Oh that," Ron said dismissively, "Do not trouble yourself. I am sure your loyalty is not in question. I am suffering from frayed nerves as a result of my long ride from Rome and the experience with the gang of thieves. To be truthful, I am not fully aware of the Senate's plans in this matter myself."
"Ah," the Centurion concluded, "So this is a Senatorial decree, and not directly from the Emperor."
"You know the Senate," Ron confided, "Always acting in the best interests of the Empire and always in the name of Honorius, whether either or both are true or not. But would you be interested in my own private speculation?"
The Centurion leaned forward as if he were about to learn a great secret.
"I believe that it is all a pretext to re-conquering the islands of Britannia. Friendly relations with some of the more powerful tribes of Eyre will eventually allow us to build up our forces. We know there is no love between the tribes of Eyre and the fractious peoples of Britannia. With legions in both Gaul and Eyre, we will be in a position to strike and subdue the Britons once and for all." Ron said secretively.
"That must be it," the Centurion concluded, "These Eyres are savages, little more than animals. Though I admit their Princess is quite pleasant to look upon."
"Tell me something if you can," Ron asked him, "Why did she come to Rome in the first place?"
"Ah", the Centurion nodded, "Now it is my turn to speculate. Openly, the Princess claims it was to establish a diplomacy between her people and the Empire. But secretly, I believe she desires power in her homeland. It may very well be that if we help her conquer Eyre, she will in turn give us leave to build up our forces there. This now seems perfectly clear in light of what you have just said to me. Especially in light of our orders to escort her back. I mean, we were bound for Gaul anyway, and Eyre is only a few days out of our way, but it still seemed remarkable that we should be escorting a Princess from an insignificant little island."
"I think you may be right," Ron replied.
"Shall I arrange a meeting with the Princess tonight?" The Centurion offered.
Ron shook his head. "Best leave this until tomorrow. I will be more rested and she is less likely to be in an ill mood. I have slept all day on the floor of the lower deck. Would it be possible to arrange for proper quarters for me?"
"Of course," The Centurion stood up, "In fact, I shall give you mine. Signifer! Please show Ronaldus Sicarius to my quarters, and have my things removed to the Captain's quarters. He will be sharing his living space with me for awhile."
Arrangements were made, and Ron was escorted to a tiny, cramped room near the forward section of the boat. After the signifer took his leave, Ron finally slumped down on the hard straw mattress and collected his thoughts.
He had to admit, he didn't think he had it in him. He'd just fooled a Roman soldier into believing he was not only a Roman soldier himself, but a little-known hero of the Empire. Ron honestly never thought he was that quick on his feet. But then he'd never been a Time Traveler before. Once again, Ron wondered at how he could have spoken and understood Latin. It must be a side effect of time travel. But how was that possible?
Ron had been in survival mode all that day; thinking on his toes and trying to bluff his way out of a potentially deadly situation. There was no telling what Roman soldiers would have done to him if they thought him somehow insane. Tim had pushed him back in time more than fifteen hundred years. Rufus was taken from him, and he'd been speaking Latin all evening without knowing why.
But there were other questions, the most prominent one being 'what was he going to do now'? Was he supposed to fake being a Roman soldier the rest of his life? And just why exactly had it seemed so easy to convince the Centurion he was a Roman? Was the Centurion just stupid? The Roman soldier seemed to accept his explanation without question. Why was that? What would he say to this Irish Princess tomorrow?
And why did he seem to be so hungry all the time? He'd practically gorged himself on bread earlier but it didn't seem to reduce his hunger pangs.
Where would he go?
What would he do?
He wished Kim was there.
The thought that he was also trapped more than fifteen hundred years away from her had not yet occurred to him. He'd been separated from Kim before, and always they had managed to find each other again. But it didn't seem likely this time. This time he was stuck where Tim made sure he could not get out.
He was never going to see Kim again.
Exhausted and emotional, Ron buried his head in his hands and wept bitterly as his fate finally began to sink in.
"All squads have reported in. We're all in position, sir."
"Go." Wil Du ordered.
Two squads of GJ agents in SWAT gear busted down the front door of the office building. Their weapons, as were all of GJ's weapons, were non-lethal. They looked like standard firearms, but shot projectiles capable of stunning a person into submission, or keep a suspect from escaping. Electrical charges, gas to incapacitate, things of that nature. Other than this key difference, the squads looked like standard SWAT teams. Well, they also had the letters 'GJ' stamped on the back of their jackets and vests.
Quickly and efficiently, the squads swept through the first floor. Every room was empty.
"First floor is clear, sir, moving on to the second." Came a transmitted voice in Wil and Kim's ears.
"Acknowledged" Wil replied.
The second floor was clear.
As was the third.
And the fourth.
Kim grew anxious. The rooms were all empty, devoid anything even remotely resembling a clue. It began to occur to her that the cab driver might have been wrong, or even that Ron might have been picked up by yet another cab and taken to another location.
"We've got something sir!" barked an excited voice over the intercom, "Fifth floor, far end of the north hallway!"
"What is it?" Wil demanded.
"I think you'd better come up and see for yourself."
Kim and Wil looked at each other, then raced for the stairs. Wil led the way down the hallway. There was a squad of GJ agents all staring at something in a tiny room at the far end. Wil made his way into the room, took one look and turned around, trying to prevent Kim from seeing what was inside.
"No," Kim said through gritted teeth, "I want to see for my-"
She broke from his grasp, scrambled past the GJ guards and into the room.
The scream got out of her before she could stop it.
The room was bare, had no windows and no other doors, and didn't have much space that wasn't occupied by a single chair. The chair itself looked like a dentist's chair, but there wasn't much else to it. Two small pieces of metal extended six inches out on either side of the headrest.
Strapped to the chair was Ron Stoppable.
Clearly he had been here for several days. Purplish energy beams were emanating from the metal posts on either side of the headrest and shooting directly into the sides of his head. His eyes were open, but the eyeballs were rolled up into his head, leaving only the whites of his eyes showing. He was restrained by multiple heavy straps around his arms, legs, neck and torso. Electrodes were placed all throughout the surface of his body. Several tubes extended from the bottom of the chair and led to needles that were embedded into Ron's left arm just above the elbow. Some kind of clear liquid was running through the tubes and being pumped into Ron at a slow but deliberate rate. He was deathly pale, and occasionally his arms or legs would twitch slightly.
On the lower deck of a boat in the middle of the Mediterranean Ocean, sometime just after the year Four Hundred A.D. – or so he was led to believe – a slumbering Ron Stoppable began to talk in his sleep.
"Congratulations Kim Possible. You managed to find me sooner than I expected. Very well played. In case you're interested, your husband…
"…misses you very much" Ron said in an eerie, croaky sort of voice. His eyes still lolled in the back of his head showing only the whites, and his arms and legs still twitched. But now the mouth also moved, "If you attempt to disconnect him from the chair, he will be instantly killed and you will never find me. If you leave him in the chair as is, I will give you clues each day as to who I am, and how you can discover my whereabouts. Do this and I might allow Stoppable to live."
"Whoever you are, we don't make deals with-" Wil Du began.
"My name is Apollyon," it said through Ron, "And I don't make deals either. These are my terms. Touch him, and Ron Stoppable will die a horribly painful death."
"Sir!" One of the squad members called out. Everyone turned to look at what the guard was looking at.
Curled up in a corner, emaciated, barely breathing and barely alive, was a naked mole rat. It was in the process of starving to death.
"Rufus!" Kim cried out and moved to him. She tenderly scooped Rufus up and lifted him off the floor.
Rufus barely managed to whisper something, but Kim couldn't hear it. She leaned in close. Rufus whispered again, very faint, and very hoarse.
"Kill me."
Kim straightened up in shock, horrified tears brimming at her eyes.
With great effort, Rufus rolled his head over to behold the condition of his friend Ron Stoppable. He weakly lifted an arm, pointing a tiny claw at Ron. Kim leaned in close again.
"It made me do that," he whimpered hoarsely.
Kim had never heard Rufus utter more than two words at a time.
"What did?" Kim whispered. The room was deathly quiet, "This Apollyon? Is that who you're talking about?"
Rufus seemed not to hear her question. Though he was dehydrated, very tiny tears began to stream down his cheeks. He couldn't bear to look at Ron any longer. His miniscule body began to shake and heave with uncontrollable sobs as he turned his head away in despair and anguish.
"It made me do that."