The Captain had heard people describe the feeling of butterflies in their stomach…his stomach was presently occupied by two wildcats tearing each other to pieces in a fight to the death. He shrugged, and allowed his tone to grow more solemn. "I lied to you earlier. I said that my companions and I were survivors of a plane crash. We did crash, but it was not an airplane. Chadworth's spacecraft designs are well guarded, but not nearly well enough. We've been building our own ships for the past two years, scoping out the lunar settlements. We know almost nothing. Are slaves being used there? Could we incite a rebellion? Would it be a good place to establish a foothold? These are the kinds of questions we want to answer. Anyway, things went sour during our last reconnaissance mission. Our ship was identified and shot down, and we crashed west of London. They caught us not long afterward."

Bucket reached into a drawer of his desk and drew out a manila envelope, which he placed in front of him. SC-80 was relieved, because he had honestly feared the General was going for a weapon. "Your story is…remarkable, to say the least." The Captain felt sick, and Bucket never changed that infernally calm demeanor. "If you are in fact a spy, you are undoubtedly the most creative I've ever seen…with a tale that outlandish, you're either a stupendous actor, completely insane…or telling the truth." Bucket opened the envelope and drew out several documents, placing them on the desk facedown. "Can you offer me any proof of any of this?"

SC-80 allowed himself to slouch back a bit in his chair, the gesture of a weary man. "Nothing other than our uniforms, and that's hardly anything to go on. The clothes on our backs were the only things to survive the crash. I know it all sounds crazy, and I'm afraid I don't have a thing to prove it with."

"Perhaps I do." SC-80 looked up sharply. Bucket extended a hand, holding a sheet of paper. SC-80 took it and stared at it. It was an enlarged black-and-white image, clearly pulled from a digital recorder of some kind…the resolution was terrible, but it was clear enough to make out what it showed: the ruined hull of Deepstar Five.

SC-80 forgot his act, his mind unable to process what he was seeing. "Where did you get this?" He looked up at Bucket in genuine astonishment.

"I have eyes everywhere, my friend," the General said, finally smiling for the first time. "That was dragged into Chadworth Industries' main laboratory complex four days ago. From the look on your face, I'm assuming you recognize your ship?"

"That's her," SC-80 said, staring again at the printout. His voice took on a new urgency. "General, I don't know how, but we have to get her back. There is technology on board that cannot be allowed to fall into enemy hands!" He could not even conceive of what might happen if someone else managed to activate the warp drive.

"From what my informant said, it didn't sound as if she was in imminent danger of flying again anytime soon."

"That's true, but they could still dismantle her."

"A find of that magnitude? I doubt it. If I may make a suggestion, you might let the enemy hold onto her for a while…if you want her back, that is. Let them repair her. My informant will keep me notified of progress; we let the enemy put your ship back together for you, and then we steal her back. I know it's hardly an ideal solution, but we don't have the capacity to do the repairs here. Now if you want to destroy her, that's a different story…and much easier."

SC-80 shook his head. Annihilate our only chance at correcting the past…the only way we'd resort to that is to prevent Chadworth from rewriting things even further, if it comes to it. The enemy might learn a few things if we let them keep the ship for the time being, but ultimately it doesn't matter. We set things right, none of this will ever have happened. The only thing that matters is the survival and repair of that vessel. The Captain looked up at the General. "No, sir. We have to get my ship back…eventually. I agree with you. Let the enemy keep her…they may learn a thing or two, but it's the only way to get her flying again. Just keep me informed of any changes, sir."

Bucket nodded. "Do you have any other way home, any way to contact your people?

"None. And we're too far away for the identification chips to work. They don't know if we're alive or dead."

The General's cold demeanor was gone, and now his curiosity was genuine. "If I may go back to my first question: who are you lot, I mean personally? And why do all of you look so damned similar? Not to be rude, but it's unnerving. Even your blood types come up as the same."

SC-80 pushed aside the troubling question of his spacecraft and adopted a polite smile. "Well, I am a trained spacecraft captain and commander of our expedition. The other military man is my co-pilot and communications officer…the one who died back at the Tower was my main pilot. The other two are civilians; the older gentlemen with the glasses is one of the scientists who developed the spacecraft…he insisted on being aboard for the maiden flight of our bird…and the other man is his assistant. There was another assistant who didn't…he didn't survive the crash."

Bucket's face took on an expression of grim sympathy. "I'm sorry."

The Captain shook his head. "It was an accident, unavoidable. You asked about our faces, our blood types. One is a simple matter of disguise…keep the enemy from identifying key personnel, never let them know our true numbers. The other is a bit of bioengineering designed to ensure that all military personnel can accept blood transfusions from any donor, human or Oompa-Loompa. Maximize our chances for survival. I told you that Mr. Wonka has a remarkable mind."

"The fellow in the leather jacket…he's not with you, is he?"

"The others met him while they were waiting for the prison train to London. I didn't actually speak with him until we were off the helicopter."

"One more question, if you'll allow it." The Captain nodded. "Why haven't you ever contacted the Resistance? With your technology…" Bucket did not finish the sentence, but the implication was clear: You could change the course of this whole fight.

SC-80 wanted to reply with the truth…New Atlantis doesn't really exist. But instead he launched into the final part of his story, the one which he still feared might upset the General. "Forgive me in advance, sir, for what I am about to say. They are Mr. Wonka's words…not mine. Frankly, however…Mr. Wonka believes the Resistance to be a lost cause." Bucket started to speak, but then thought better of it. The Captain continued. "Our leader believes that the best way to win is to outlast the enemy…wait for decades before making a move, centuries if need be. That's why he built the largest self-supporting installation in history…why he's already trained and declared his successor. He says that fighting now is a waste of energy, and ultimately all the Resistance will do is get its people killed. He believes the only real strategy is to wait until the enemy grows complacent, overconfident…wait until their leaders become lazy and their army lapses into incompetence. Then we attack, rise up across the entire world and bring the whole damned thing down in one go."

Bucket was shaking his head…not in disapproval, but as if he expected to shake himself awake. "Hmmm. This whole thing is like finding out that Santa Claus is real, or that there really are little green men from Mars." He looked at the Captain and smiled. "Well, my friend, Mr. Wonka can follow his strategy, and I'll follow mine. In the meantime, you are free to roam around the base…join the general population, so to speak. If you wish to leave, you are welcome. If you wish to stay with us, which I somewhat expected you would after asking me to keep you informed as to the state of your ship, it will be our pleasure to have you."

"Thank you, sir. I do have one question for you: where exactly are we?"

"This," General Bucket said, gesturing around the room, "is part of a salt mine in central Bulgaria." He smiled. "I'll tell Bradley…that's the man who brought you up here…to go retrieve your companions. Then he can give you the grand tour. Anything else?"

"No, sir. Thank you, sir."