0 days after the Manifestation
Ilma woke with a start and groaned. She ached all over and something warm and wet covered the side of her temple. Shakily, she lifted her head and looked around. All around her, people were picking themselves up or still laying unconscious. Or maybe dead. Ilma brought her hand up to her head and it came away red.
How hard did I fall? she thought dazed. In fact, what the hell happened?
Suddenly it all struck home. The Cylinder, the humming, and the flickering. Slowly, she tottered to her feet and turned back the way she came. She passed people running away from the main lab and people still on the ground. Most of them still breathed.
She came to the once grand double doors to the lab. Now they'd been blown off their hinges and scorch marks spiderwebbed from where they'd been. Past this point the Cylinder stood miraculously untouched in the middle of the warehouse-sized room that was completely blackened by fires still raging. She stared glumly. No one was alive in there.
Alex was dead and so were almost two dozen more. A few charred skeletons lay broken at the far edges of the destruction and no traces of anyone closer to the Cylinder. She looked up hurriedly and saw that the reinforced glass for the viewing room had been blown in. Hopefully everyone had gotten out like she told them to. She walked away from the heat and death and made her way back to the lobby.
The head of security Marc Kand stood waiting.
It took Alex but not Marc? Ilma thought bitterly. Pity.
"Loyola!" Marc roared. "What in the ever-loving fuck did you do?"
People who were not helping others paused to watch. For them, a pissing contest between Dr. Loyola and Mr. Kand was a spectacle that even a near brush with death could not distract from.
"Very lovely that you automatically come after me," she replied calmly. "It's almost like I deliberately destroyed my life's work for a little joke."
Marc's face flushed a bit before regaining his fury. Still, he was a bit quieter than before.
"This was your machine and that puts this whole mess in your hands," he growled.
"Not to sound heartless," Ilma began. "but a few dozen dead people isn't much of a road block. I've been given a lot of authority, more than I should have been given. Governments will be pissed but I'll deal with them."
Marc's eyes widened in shock. Then a wicked smile split his face.
"Only a few dozen casualties, hmmm?" he whispered.
Ilma's heart began to race.
"There's more?" she asked.
"No, no. But... ah... I'm afraid that the Cylinder did more than blow us up."
"What, Marc? Stop with the vague answers - this isn't a badly written book or movie - and tell me."
"It's easier if I just show you."
Marc led her through the front doors and flourished dramatically.
"I present to you... a big load of shit," he quipped. "Yours really."
Ilma wavered. Past the tents and campers, where there was once a thin forest that stretched to the horizon, there was now a huge field. And just on the horizon, a lone gigantic volcano belched smoke.
Ilma strode through the sparking halls while she processed the situation. The Cylinder worked. And it had exceeded her expectations by so much. It had transported almost a square mile of matter to another point on the planet. She wondered what the odds of that were though. Logically, they all should be dead in space light-years away.
Something to look into when they got out of this. Sometimes she passed people looking for anyone trapped under the rubble. She couldn't ignore the accusing glances they gave her. They blamed her for this and to be honest, she couldn't fault them.
Ilma hoped that the radio tower was fixed soon. Wherever they were, cell data didn't reach here. She came back to the lab and halted.
No one had dared go in there yet. She stepped in and made her way to the Cylinder. Running her hands over the markings, she wondered if she'd really be allowed to continue her research after this. It was obvious that the Cylinder could be used but the world governments would only want to shove the whole thing under the bed after this. After this, everyone might ignore her authority and toss her in jail anyway and melt the key. She paced around the Cylinder when she heard a voice from the entrance.
"Dr.?"
Ilma turned to see Mufasta looking in queasily.
"What?" she demanded.
"We... uh...-" he stammered.
"What?"
"Mr. Kand told me to tell you that we have prisoners." he blurted out.
"Excuse me?" she said dumbstruck.
He repeated himself.
What has that idiot done now? she thought angrily.
"Show me," Ilma ordered.
Mufasta let her through the corridors and back into the main lobby. He gestured to the open doors. Ilma went outside and stared. Five men and three women in stood with their hands cuffed behind their backs. Marc and five other guards surrounded them.
Something was off about them.
She took another look and clenched her fist. They were wearing medieval armor. The dumbass had taken role-players captive. She had spent the walk thinking that they were foreign soldiers come to arrest the people who had suddenly manifested on their territory.
"You arrested fucking LARPers?" she hissed.
One of the guards snickered.
"Are you insane? I already have enough on my plate without you-"
"Do LARPers wave real-life swords at people with guns, Ilma?" Marc interrupted.
Startled, she glanced back at them and noticed that one of the guards was gingerly holding a piece of damp cloth that smelled of alcohol to her face.
"They claim to be soldiers of 'Tar Valon' whatever that is," Marc continued. "They don't seem to be kidding."
One of the prisoners spoke up.
"Whoever you are, the Amyrlin Seat will have you flogged for this and you will hand over the ter'angreal that brought you here," he said.
One of the women with him rolled her eyes and a guard laughed aloud.
Ilma strode over to him and studied him with what she thought were cold eyes but in reality blazed like the sun. The LARPer - if that was what he was - flinched and lowered his gaze.
"Bring them to Isolation. Don't hurt them. I have some questions," Ilma ordered.
She had many. Those people seemed so sure of themselves. A thought crossed her mind and she stamped it down brutally.
Impossible, she thought to herself. Time is linear. It would have to be circular for it to be possible and anyway, I didn't design the Transporter to do that.
But she couldn't fully shake the idea.
Marc watched the LARPers be escorted into the building as Ilma followed. The horrible woman would have to be dealt with sooner rather than later. The whole situation just before had been very strange. He'd been walking about half-a-mile away with those guards, taking in their new surroundings, when that lot had ridden them down with horses - horses - and tried to take them to their Tar Valon and White Tower. Even with the barrel of a pistol pointed right at their heads, they'd tried to grab them.
Marc only had to fire a few warning shots to subdue them. Well, most of them. Everyone else had cowered in fear while one woman unsheathed a sword and slashed one of his guards across the face. Even then, he'd had them hold their fire. Horrible or not, Ilma would have a fit if she discovered that they'd shot someone.
It took three men to subdue her. And if she spent the next few days with a headache then Ilma could go stuff it.
Ilma. That woman had brought them all much to close to death than could be ignored. And a few right at Death's door. Marc fingered his sidearm.
No, he thought firmly. Not unless I have to.