Chapter 2
A Mission of the Utmost Importance

For a few seconds the five groups stared at one another in bafflement. One man wore what looked like a full suit of armour, his head closely shaven. At his side were two strange creatures. One was tall, with armour plates instead of skin, their face giving the impression of a bird of prey. The other was of slight build, wearing a full body suit, a purple and silver shawl wrapped around her masked head.

There was a tall, extremely thin man with blond hair, wearing a deerstalker hat and tweed suit. An enormous man stood behind him, his head human in appearance while his body was clearly robotic. Next to him was a woman with short brown hair, wearing what looked like a set of light grey armour.

By far, the strangest looking person in the room was a man wearing a battered fedora, maroon jacket, and a scarf so long that it trailed along the floor. With him was another man, wearing an olive green military uniform, and a woman, dressed in clothing from the later part of the 20th century.

Next to them was a scruffy looking man with dark brown hair, wearing a waistcoat over a crumpled shirt and black trousers. At his side was a woman with similar coloured hair, wearing a long blue dress with white highlights.

The final two seemed even more removed from the rest in terms of their appearance. They were two women, one with dark hair, dressed in leather armour, while the other had fair hair and wore a short tank top and skirt.

It did not take long for them to realise they were all armed.
"Who are you!" demanded the man in the waistcoat, levelling a short shotgun at the armoured group across from him.
"I'm Commander Shepard," the armoured man replied, raising his own weapon, "And I'd advise you not to threaten me or my crew."
"You should have thought of that before bringing us to this place."
"I didn't bring you anywhere."
"Rubbish!"

"Ladies and Gentlemen," said the man wearing the long scarf, his deep voice echoing off the walls. "I know this is a shock for all of us, but perhaps we should find out why we are here before pulling any triggers, hmm?"
"Who put you in charge?" snapped the man in the waistcoat.
"The gentleman is simply being logical my good fellow," stated the man in the deerstalker, "It is rather clear that none of us created this place, nor did we expect to come here. It is therefore logical to assume that there is another party at work here."
"A very astute observation detective," declared a new voice.

The groups turned their attention to the source of the voice. Standing on the far side of the table were two people, a man and a woman, wearing almost identical tan suits.
"You two!" shouted the man in the waistcoat, sounding angry and frustrated, "What the hell are you playing at?"
"Important matters, same as always Mr. DeWitt," said the woman, her voice clipped and posh.

"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage," said the man wearing the long scarf.
"Of course, where are our manners," replied the man in a voice as posh as his counterpart, "I am Robert Lutece."
"And I am Rosalind Lutece," stated the woman.
"And we are the ones who brought you here."
"Let me guess," the woman in leather armour said in a sardonic tone, "Ares asked you to do this."

"Nothing of the sort Miss Xena," replied Rosalind, "Now perhaps you should all introduce yourselves to one another before someone gets their head blown off."
The groups looked at one another. There was still suspicion in their eyes, but eventually each of them lowered their weapons.

"Very well, stated the armoured man, "I'm John Shepard, Commander of the SSV Normandy. These two are my squad mates, Tali'Zorah and Garrus Vakarian."
"Delighted Commander," said the man in the scarf, "I'm the Doctor, and these are my friends, Sarah Jane Smith, and Sergeant Benton.
He gestured to the people behind him who waved back, still slightly unsure.

"I am Sherlock Holmes," stated the man in the deerstalker, "and this is my friend and colleague, John Watson."
"I'm Beth Lestrade," said the woman beside Holmes, "Inspector at New Scotland Yard."
"Name's Booker DeWitt," the man in the waistcoat said.
"And my name's Elizabeth," said the woman in the blue dress.
"Xena," stated the woman in leather armour, "And this is my friend, Gabrielle. Now perhaps you can explain why you've brought us here, or where 'here' even is?"

"Of course," said Robert Lutece.
"We've completely forgotten our manners, again," stated Rosalind Lutece.
"We've brought you here because the multiverse is under threat, and your help has been deemed necessary."
"The multiverse?"
The words came from Booker, but from their expressions, everyone else around the table was just as confused.
"Of course, we should have explained."
"We were going to explain."
"We will explain."

By now the assembled groups had noticed something very odd about the twins. Each time one of them spoke, the other would finish their sentence. There was something more to the pair than met the eye, but as to what that was, they could not say.
"In the simplest terms, you all come from separate universes, or perhaps realities would be the better word," said Rosalind.

"Separate realities?" said Xena, confused.
"Indeed," answered Robert, "Each of you comes from a different reality, all of which are at a different stage of development."
He snapped his fingers and a hologram flickered into existence above the round table. The display showed several ill-defined shapes slowly moving past each other, each filled with what looked like ever-shifting constellations of stars.

"Until two weeks ago, this was what your universes looked like within the multiverse," Rosalind said, pointing at the confusing image. "There was little or no coherence and virtually no contact, nor was there need for any."
"All this changed about three weeks ago."
Robert waved his hand and the map changed. The universes organised themselves into rows, which in turn formed a large flat triangle, pointing down at the table. At its tip was a large white semi-circle, around which five universes were grouped.

"As you may have guessed, these five are your own universes," explained Rosalind, pointing to the tip of the triangle.
"What's in that half circle?" asked Inspector Lestrade.
"We believe the semi-circle is a wholly new universe, one that was created with a single purpose."
"And what purpose would that be?" asked the Doctor, who was closely studying the holographic map through a jeweller's loop.

"We are… unsure."
"Our best theory is that it is being used as a hideout by a vast criminal enterprise."
"Criminals creating their own universes?" snorted Booker, "Even by your standards this sounds ridiculous Lutece."
"Indeed Mr. DeWitt," replied Robert, "But so far that is what the evidence points to."

The multiverse map was replaced by a large video screen. The footage showed a town, built mostly from brick and wood, the streets paved with cobblestones. Tall chimneys could be seen in the distance, telling the group that this footage had to come from a universe where it was currently the 19th or perhaps early 20th century. As they watched, it became clear that wherever this was, it had been subject to an attack. Many of the buildings were burning or had already been destroyed, leaving behind piles of bricks and splintered wood. A few people fled across the street, just as a squad of what looked like men with large metal heads and wearing bulky silver suits marched into view.

"Cybermen!" exclaimed the Doctor.
"But it can't be," said Benton, his face a mask of confused horror, "You destroyed their fleet back in 1968."
"You know these monsters?" asked Xena.
"I've fought them before," the Doctor replied, "As has Benton here, but they are not monsters, at least not in a physical sense. They are actually humanoid beings from the planet Mondas, Earth's twin, who replaced their organic components with cybernetics over a period of…"

Before he could carry on, Rosalind loudly cleared her throat.
"Ah, yes, forgive me," said the Doctor, becoming quiet.
"Although the Doctor is quite correct," said Robert, "The forces you see attacking the city of Saint Denis are indeed Cybermen, they are however not alone in their attack."
The image on the screen changed, showing an enormous ship floating above the ruins of Saint Denis. It was a long tubular shape, with lumpy, almost organic forms seeming to grow along its outer hull.

"That's a damn Collector ship!" said Garrus, shocked.
"Indeed," stated Rosalind, as if it was the most mundane thing in the world.
"But… but we destroyed their base!" stammered Tali, her silvery eyes becoming very wide behind her mask.
"Seems we missed some," Shepard bitterly remarked.
"While this footage is harrowing," Sherlock cut in, "I'm failing to see how this is evidence of an interdimensional criminal empire."

As they listened to his words, the footage changed again, showing a grand white stone building on a street corner, the words, Lemoyne National Bank painted along the top edge of its frontage. Squads of the insect-like Collectors could be seen entering through its shattered doors, leaving a few minutes later with hovering carts loaded with gold bars.

"Gold?" said Shepard, sounding confused, "What on earth would the Collectors want gold for?"
"Getting' rich quick?" said Booker drily.
"No, the Collectors are just drones, slaves for the Reapers, they don't need money, much less gold."
"What's a Reaper?"
"I'm sure you'll learn in time Mr. DeWitt," answered Robert. "But your surprise is more than warranted Commander. Even we were taken aback by this raid. However, we were also able to capture footage of the ringleader of this enterprise."

There was a flash of blueish light and a tear opened up in front of the bank. A man stepped through the tear, flanked by two cybermen. He was tall and thin, wearing a black waistcoat over a white shirt, a cravat around his neck. His face was narrow with high cheekbones, a strip of white cutting through the middle of his otherwise black hair.

"Moriarty," said Watson in a low, dangerous voice.
"I should have known he'd be the one behind this," said Lestrade.
"From what information we have gathered, that would seem to be the case," stated Rosalind.
"Who is this Moriarty?" asked Xena, looking closely at the holographic footage as it showed the man in question examining one of the gold bars.

"A dangerous criminal from our world," Holmes replied, his expression unreadable, "Scotland Yard calls him the 'Napoleon of crime', and with good reason."
"This is what he must have been working on in that hideout!" Lestrade exclaimed.

She looked around to address the whole room.
"Before we came here, we found a hideout in an old London Underground tunnel. There'd been a lot of equipment stored there and removed quickly. Moriarty must have been developing a way to travel between universes down there!"
"And from the look of things, he was successful," stated Watson.
Holmes narrowed his eyes, but made no remark.
"Okay, so this… Moriarty person is carrying out robberies," said Booker, "What's that got to do with us?"

"We need your help," answered Robert.
"Moriarty has amassed an army of some of the most dangerous and evil forces in the known multiverse," said Rosalind, "Hundreds have suffered and died because of his raids, and that will only increase if he is allowed to continue."
"We have therefore summoned you here to form a task force to put an end to his schemes once and for all."

The groups looked to one another, unsure how to respond.
"Alright, let me get this straight," said Booker, finally breaking the silence. "You want the 13 of us to track down a criminal mastermind who's got a damn army of monsters and robots behind him?"
"Precisely," Robert stated flatly.

Booker let out a short laugh.
"You two are insane."
"I'm afraid I have to agree," said Shepard, "Me and my team have faced some pretty tough odds, but this is impossible."
"Perhaps we should clarify matters," said Rosalind.
"Yes, we should," said Robert, "You are our vanguard as it were, but you are by no means alone in this endeavour."

One of the doors in the surrounding white wall opened, revealing a sunlit stretch of tarmac beyond.
"If you would step through."
The groups looked at one another once again, still unsure.
"If we wanted to harm you, we could have done so by now," said Rosalind, a hint of annoyance in her otherwise flat voice.

After another few seconds of silence, Booker moved around the table and headed through the door, shotgun in hand and Elizabeth close behind. With no other choice open to them, the others soon followed, though each kept a hand close to their weapon.
Stepping through the doorway, the group was met by barmy air and the roar of internal combustion engines.

Shepard was baffled. Fossil fuel based technology had not been used for almost a century, where had these Luteces brought them?
Looking around, he saw they were standing on a vast flat area of tarmac, white lines running along the edge. Nearby were a series of large, rounded buildings with corrugated iron roofs and enormous doors that encompassed their whole front. They were aircraft hangers, early to mid-20th century Earth by the look of them. Overhead was the source of all the noise. Three aircraft, small single-engine fighters, also early to mid-20th century, were flying above the airfield, carrying out a series of acrobatic manoeuvres.

"Where are we?" he asked, gawking as one of the fighters spun in the air and looped back around in a wide arc.
"Conran Base," announced a new voice, "Headquarters of the Flying Legion."
The group turned around and saw a man striding across the tarmac to meet them. He was thin and of medium height, with slicked-back brown hair and a handsome clean-shaven face. He wore a leather flying jacket with fleece-lined lapels, a khaki shirt and olive drab trousers, tucked into a pair of calf-high boots.

"Might I introduce you all to Captain Joseph Sullivan, commander of the Flying Legion," said Robert, "And another member of our project."
"Let me guess," said Booker, addressing Sullivan, "These two popped out of thin air and asked you to hunt down a dangerous criminal as well?"
"More or less," the captain replied with a shrug, "Come, we can talk while I give you a tour of the base."

He set off across the tarmac and the others followed, looking around in fascination. Xena and Gabrielle hung back, a little uncertain. The portals and strange white rooms had been unnerving enough, but the roaring machines in the air and enormous structures were completely alien to them. The warrior princess turned back to look at the door they had come through, only to see it vanish in a slight flash of blue light.

"I've got a bad feeling about this place," Gabrielle said in a low voice.
"Don't worry," Xena replied, giving her a smile of encouragement, "We've faced down gods and monsters. We can handle a few strange machines."
Breaking into a quick stride, she followed the others, Gabrielle sticking close behind.
"If I may ask," Sherlock said to Robert, "Why have you brought us here? No offence to Captain Sullivan, but this technology is massively outdated compared to my own… well universe."

"The Flying Legion is more advanced than you might suspect when it comes to technology detective," answered Rosalind, "But what makes it more important is its location within the multiverse."
She drew a device from her pocket and a small holographic image appeared above it, showing the triangular map of universes. At its centre, a small area had been highlighted in red.

"This universe is located in the middle of the new formation," said Robert, "Meaning you can monitor all the universes and travel between them in a relatively straightforward fashion."
"And just how are we meant to travel between universes?" asked Lestrade, looking dismissively at a line of prop-driven fighter aircraft on the edge of the runway. "I get the feeling these things aren't quite up to the task."
"I'll have you know that those P-40s have gotten the Legion through its fair share of fights," Captain Sullivan retorted sharply.

"Nonetheless, Miss Lestrade is right," said Rosalind, "These aircraft cannot yet travel between universes. Luckily, we have someone who can help us in that regard.
She gestured to Elizabeth, whose cheeks turned very red as the rest of the group began looking at her.
"Elizabeth here has a natural talent for opening portals, or 'tears' as I believe she calls them," said Robert.

"Eh…" Booker began, sounding unsure.
"Umm, Mr. Lutece," Elizabeth said in a small voice, "I don't know if that's possible any more. You see, Comstock's scientists, they… they injected me with… with, well I don't know what, but I think it's… blocked my powers."
"They must have used that suppressant," remarked Robert, as if remarking on a mildly interesting television program.

"Not to worry," said Rosalind in the same mild tone, "That stuff should wear off in a few hours at most. It was never much good, even in the early days, and I doubt Comstock was able to improve it much."
With the group still trying to make sense of what the Luteces were talking about, they made their way toward the hangers.

"As I was saying, these are P-40 Warhawks," Captain Sullivan explained, casting an arm over the line of fighter aircraft, "Our main workhorse."
"What do they run on?" asked Garrus, eyeing the machines curiously.
"Aviation fuel."
Garrus cocked his head.
"Aviation fuel?"
"It's a highly refined form of petroleum, a liquid formed by organisms buried under sedimentary rock for many thousands of years", Tali explained. "It was used widely on Earth as a fuel source during the 20th and 21st centuries."

"I didn't know you were so well versed in Earth's history Miss Vas Normandy," grinned Shepard.
"I thought if I was going to serve on a human ship, I should learn about your history," she replied.
"Flying in machines powered by refined fossils," said Garrus, sounding amazed, "You humans are braver or crazier than I thought."
"Returning to the matter at hand," said Sullivan, "These are our main hangers where most of our research is carried out."

He pointed to a nearby hanger, its large doors opening as an equally large aircraft, bristling with machine guns, was towed out by a tractor.
"B-17 Flying Fortress, the army's latest design."
"Again, at the… risk… of being rude Captain Sullivan," said Shepard, "I don't think any of these can transport us across different realities, or even within a lot of them."
"No, they can't," the captain replied, "Though I have a feeling our mutual friends have an answer to that."

They turned to the Luteces.
"Of course."
"How could we forget."
"Well, we do have a lot to remember."
"But the captain is right, we have a different means for your transportation."
"One we believe you shall appreciate Commander."

There was a tremendous flash of blue and the sky above the airfield split apart. It was a portal, but far larger than the ones the group had seen before.
"What on Earth?" began Sarah.
Before she could finish, a sleek craft with a long thin hull and two massive wings at its stern glided through the portal. Though the design was unknown to him, Benton realised that it was a spaceship, and judging by the English text on its flank, was of human origin.

"That's… that's…" Tali stammered in disbelief.
"For the benefit of those not yet familiar," said Rosalind, "This is the SSV Normandy of the Systems Alliance Navy."
"Commanded by one Jonathan Shepard," finished Robert.