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Subject: {ASSM} The Mystery of Flight 1070 (Ch 7) (By Katzmarek) (No-sex)
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Date: Tue, 22 Aug 2006 12:10:03 -0400
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 Ch7

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<1st attachment, "Mystery of Flight 1070 7.txt" begin>

THE MYSTERY OF FLIGHT TEN-SEVENTY (Chapter 7)

   By KATZMAREK (C)

   ---------------------------------------------------

   AUTHOR'S NOTE

   This is a work of fiction.  It remains my property and must not be used
for gain without my permission in writing.

   ---------------------------------------------------

   "They're still down there," Ariana told Arnim, "she's not getting out of
the car!"

   "So?" he replied, "go down and pull her out if it bothers you."

   "I can't, I don't want to humiliate her.  Besides, I'm not dressed."

   "No," he grinned.

   "Don't you think 13's too young to be having sex?"

   "Are they?  They could be just talking.  How do you know they're having
sex?"

   "C'mon?" Ariana told him, looking back with her 'old fashioned'
expression, "Rica and her boyfriend, parked in a car for an hour and 'just
talking?"

   "They could have much to talk about?"

   "In your time," she asked, "do girls so young have sex?"

   "I suppose some did," he considered, "I recall talk about teenage
pregnancies and unprotected sex and so forth.  Certainly I remember girls
who were willing and parents who allowed their teenagers to sleep together
under the family roof."

   "I guess, I do to," she agreed.  Ariana looked back from the window at
Arnim, naked, lying on his back, with his semi erect penis in his hand. 
"What a beautiful man!" she sighed.  She clutched her loose wrap around her
body and retreated from the window.  "So, how are you, how's your dick?"

   "Recovering slowly," he laughed, "and you?  How's your kitty?"

   "Same...  full of your goo."

   Arnim's hand fell from his cock, which flopped between his legs.  "Keep
doing that?" Ariana breathed, "I kinda like watching you do that."

   "Really?" he grinned, "I just like watching you; even doing the
laundry!"

   "Oh yeah?" she laughed, "and here's me thinking you were supervising."

   "Hey?" Arnim looked at her with a sly expression, "flash me?"

   "Pervert!" she replied, giggling, "only if you grab yourself again."

   "Like this?" taking himself in hand once more.

   "Yeah!  Top or bottom?"

   "Both...  top first."

   Ariana pulled aside the wrap to release one of her breasts.  "Mmm?"

   "Now the other?" She slowly pulled out her other breast, playing with
her nipple so it stood out.  Arnim clicked in approval and stroked himself
until he was stiff.  Next, Ariana showed him her pussy, combing through her
thick hair with her fingers.  "God!  You're sexy!"

   She bent down and kissed him before climbing on the bed next to him. 
"Wanna race?" she asked, teasing her clit with her middle finger.  "Who
comes first wins."

   "And what's the prize?"

   "Hmm, ok!  If you come first...  then I'll let you do me over the basin
in the morning.  I know that turns you on"

   "And if you come?"

   "Then you've got to wake me up with your tongue...  here!" she indicated
her pussy.  "Deal?"

   "Sounds fair.  But no cheating, ok?  No faking orgasms."

   "As if?" she laughed, "at least I'll know if you're being honest!"

   "Put a pillow at the other end of the bed and face me, ok?"

   Ariana made herself comfortable, placing a foot each side of Arnim's
body.  He arranged his legs so they had a good view of what each other was
doing.

   "Count...  one, two..." she smiled, placing her hand between her legs.

   Meanwhile, downstairs, Ariana's sister, Ella, returned to her room with
a couple of beers for herself and Fuller.  The German Flight Engineer was
sitting up, smoking.

   "Mom and Dad will smell that," she chided.

   "Sorry, thoughtless," he apologised.

   Ella took it from his fingers and dragged on it before handing it back.
"Rica's still out there with that guy," she reported, "been almost an
hour!" Wearing her baggy men's T-shirt, she slipped in beside him.  "Hope
she's got protection, boys never think of it.  I keep telling her, 'Sis,
you're the one left carrying the kid'."

   "Um, by the way..."

   "Yeah, of course I'm on the pill," she laughed, "see?  My point exactly.
And you're probably more responsible than most men.  And experienced!" she
grinned, "very experienced!"

   "I don't get it," he sighed, "this must have happened, and yet?"

   "'And yet,' what?"

   "I don't know how all this fits together.  I know where I'll be in
twenty years time, but what happens in between time?  I can't get out of my
head that I'm supposed to do something; that we all are supposed to be
doing something.  I don't believe this was an accident.  I believe we've
all been sent back for a reason."

   "Sent back?  By whom?  God?"

   "I don't know.  Maybe you and I were supposed to hook up for a reason?"

   "To screw?  That seems a good enough reason to me."

   "Maybe you're just a perk?  A side dish, perhaps?"

   "Fuck you, Fuller!  I'm no-one's 'side dish'."

   "I didn't mean..."

   "Of course you meant it.  You think I'm some kind of slut?"

   "No, I..."

   "Get something straight," she told him, angrily, "I sleep with who I
want.  That doesn't mean I'm a slut or anyones fucking 'side dish'!"

   "Perhaps my English wasn't perfect," he tried to explain, "it didn't
come out right!"

   Ella rolled over onto him, placing a knee each side.  She sat on his
stomach and placed her hands on his shoulders.  "You're fulla shit,
Fuller," she broke out giggling, "your English is better than mine.  But
you're a good fuck and a really nice body, so maybe I'll hang onto you for
a while.  I don't know what the fuck you're here for or what you're meant
to do.  Frankly, I couldn't give a shit either.  You're my pal, Fuller,
with privileges.  What else do you need to understand?"

   He looked up to her pretty face, just inches from his own.  "I'm acting
like a teenager, aren't I?  With all the self-doubt and angst..."

   "Nah, you're just acting like a guy!" she lowered her face and kissed
him.  She squirmed her bottom down until she made contact with the tip of
his cock.  "Fuller, you hard again?" He shrugged in mock apology before
pulling her down.

   They heard a car door slam in the distance.  "She's finished?" Fuller
murmured into Ella's ear.

   "Longest blow job in history?" she whispered back.

   "Clearly a family tradition!"

   Upstairs, Ariana growled in frustration.  "Unfair," she cried,
breathless, "my little sister put me off at the last moment.  I demand a
rematch!"

   "And *that* would be fair?" Arnim panted, "I need recovery time, this is
tiring."

   "Anyway, Rica's home now.  Dad will relax."

   "Your Father relax?  he laughed, "how can the poor man relax with all
this going on under his roof?  I'd be in a state of permanent nervous
tension."

   "Anyway, Arnim, I think we need to talk."

   "About what?"

   "About us.  I think it's time."

   ---------------------------------------------

   Reiner Kurzbach watched Marina as she emerged from the shower.  'At
least,' he thought, 'I can be sure she's not rigged with microphones.' She
was surprisingly well-designed underneath her layers of Winter clothing. 
Her breasts were large but with little sag.  She had the flat stomach of
someone who worked out regularly and the suppleness that went with it.

   Marina was probably in her early thirties and, Kurzbach thought, was or
had been, military.  She'd told him she was employed by the Soviet
Institute of Sciences as an Administrator, but no-one here seemed entirely
what they claimed to be.

   Ongarchuk may be a science town but Reiner was sure it was run by the
KGB.  Too many men and women strutted around, ramrod straight, with a
military precision.  They all seem to have cold grey eyes that scanned him
as if trying to read his mind.

   But to keep one's sanity in this miserable, isolated, joyless place
required the switching off of certain parts of the brain, he decided.  Only
a reclusive zombie would find Ongarchuk to their liking.

   Most of the rationals, here, soaked themselves in alcohol at the close
of their shifts.  President Gorbachev had, the previous year, imposed
severe restrictions on vodka and wine, trying, it seems, to get to grips
with the Soviet Union's debilitating alcoholism problem.  But little of
that restriction seemed to have reached Ongarchuk.  Perhaps the President
had visited here, he thought, and made an exception?

   He recalled that the German press had reported extensively and gleefully
on the slow disintegration of the Soviet Union.  As a 33 year old
professional pilot, he'd read in detail how, in 1989, Gorbachev had
repudiated the 'Brezhnyev doctrine.' That doctrine had authorised the use
of the Soviet Group of Forces in Europe to 'retore order' in Russia's
vassal states.  Like testing the waters, sceptical it seemed at the time,
Hungary and Czechoslovakia had initiated 'orange revolutions' looking over
their shoulders for the rumble of Soviet tanks.  When those tanks failed to
appear, other countries followed.  It was remarkable as scarcely a shot was
fired.  Only in Romania was any resistance offered by the state apparatus.

   By 1986, however, Gorbachev was desperately trying to revive a moribund
economy.  Oil exploration and extraction in Siberia required an
astronomical amount of investment.  Vodka restrictions had removed 300
Billion Roubles from the State's coffers.  Industry throughout the Soviet
Union needed investment to modernise if they were to compete with the West.
The State was chronically short of cash and reneged on a number of trade
deals.

   Gorbachev needed Western investment and budgetry cuts to State spending.
In 1986 he began stacking the Politburo with his own candidates from the
reformist 'Komsomol Discussion Circles.' Fortunately, many of the existing
encumbents were nearing retirement age.

   The military, Kurzbach recalled, supported the President's efforts. 
They wanted out of Afghanistan, seeing little prospect of a military
victory.  The military wanted a reproachement with America as Reagan's
'Star Wars' project was causing them sleepless nights.  Most of all they
wanted to stop the disintegration of the Soviet Union and the Warsaw Pact.
Gorbachev had assured them that it wouldn't happen, envisaging a system of
'free association' rather than centralised control.

   'Irony,' he mused, 'makes fools of us all.'

   The possibility of an attack by time machine was another cause for
indigestion among the top Soviet military leadership.  Imagine what mayhem
may be caused by saboteurs with knowledge of the possible run of future
events?

   'But,' thought Kurzbach, 'the social and political evolution of
humankind was inevitable.  Could the assassination, say, of one future
leader cancel out the future?  Would Nazism have happened without Adolf
Hitler?  Or the Soviet Union without Lenin and Stalin?  Would these things
have happened anyway with different personalities?' Kurzbach thought that
social trends were next to impossible to alter because of the complicated
interlocking mechanisms that dictate change.

   Military prospects, on the other hand, could be significantly improved
with knowledge of defeats and victories.  If the Soviet Army knew what a
noose it was putting around its neck in Afghanistan would they've invaded?
The Mujahideen, then, would have been left to squabble among themselves
with no motivation for broad unity.  With no cause, would Al Qaeda have
cemented a power base?  All this was beyond Kurzbach's analysis.

   Professor Sumilov had accepted the future break up of the Soviet Union.
Kurzbach knew it the moment he started asking questions about salaries paid
to top research scientists in the West.  Obviously, Sumilov was already
looking at his options, once Ongarchuk was closed down.

   His 'interrogation' continued, however, the Professor often accompanied
by one or two intelligence officers.  Reiner told them the 'time research
laboratory' was to be constructed in Frankfurt, West Germany.  Kurzback
picked an empty industrial site near where he was brought up.  He knew a
glue factory would be built there in the early nineties.  It amused him to
think of dozens of KGB agents observing its construction.

   Marina had been something of a fringe benefit.  In Ongarchuk, there was
little to do once a shift was over except get drunk and have affairs. 
She'd come to see him one evening, with a bottle of passable Hungarian
wine. She tottered a little on the door step and Kurzbach brought her
inside before she keeled over.

   She was bombed, and Kurzbach laid her out on the sofa.  In the early
hours of the morning she'd got into bed with him.  When he woke a little
later, she was fumbling with him and her urgent pussy was rubbing against
his thigh.

   It had been some kind of erotic wrestling match.  Marina was
enthusiastic and desperate in her lovemaking as though it was the
furfillment of some life's dream.  Although Kurzbach hadn't slept with a
woman for some five years, he found himself accepting the assault with
little coaxing.

   Marina was an attractive woman and he'd been wondering why she was stuck
way out here.  Surely her beauty and wiles could've landed some comfortable
Government job in more hospitable surroundings?  Even a relatively lavish
salary seemed to him poor compensation for a stalled career path and
isolation.

   She gave little away, however, as they talked that morning in bed.  Her
Father worked for the Government, she explained, but didn't everyone in the
Soviet Union?  Her Mother was a senior translator for 'Intourist.' Yes, she
had a younger brother and here she came close to being open with him.  Her
brother was in the air force and serving 'Down South.' Reiner knew that
euphemism meant Afghanistan.  He flew attack helicopters and Kurzbach
recalled there'd been a high attrition rate in the war.

   "In three years it will be all over and your brother will be staying
home," he told her.

   She took some comfort from his words and asked if he could get him a
safe job flying commercial aircraft.  Kurzbach promised he'd do all he
could, but she couldn't tell him whether her brother had a fixed wing
rating.

   "You could train him?" she urged, as if converting from an Mi-24 to a
Boeing 747 was a matter of a few circuits of the airfield.

   "Sure," he replied, "I'll do all I can."

   Like Sumilov, Marina had accepted that the Soviet Union's time was
shortly up.  Like the professor, too, she was beginning to revue her
options for the future.

   As Kurzbach watched Marina shake out her mane before efficiently putting
on her clothes, a curious spark of memory rekindled in his mind.  'This has
all happened,' he recollected Fuller as telling him, but now he realised
the truth in his words.

   This had indeed happened.  The three of them, Fuller, Krauss and himself
had some kind of special bond beyond a shared experience.  Most of all,
however, he realised there'd been a task the three of them were supposed to
perform; a task vital for the future of mankind.

   As to who the Hell had sent them and why, he'd no idea.

   -----------------------------------------------

   Co-incidentally both Arnim Krauss and Jurgen Fuller were awake.  It was
the middle of the night and they both slipped out of bed in their
respective rooms, carefully, lest they wake the sisters, and met in the
Hernandez lounge.

   "You felt that?" Arnim asked his friend, who nodded, "does Reiner know?"

   "Yes," Fuller replied, "he will know."

   "Gentlemen?" came a voice behind them.  It was Raul in his dressing gown
and still blurry from sleep.  "I think it's time for a planning meeting, do
you agree?"

   "Kurzbach?" Arnim enquired.

   "He's experienced," Raul told them, "I hope the Soviets didn't dope him
too much.  It's unpredictable what effect such a cocktail of drugs will
have on his system."

   "But he's placed?" Fuller asked.

   "Yes, he's placed.  We have no choice but to wait until his memory is
restored.  It will take longer for him.  I presume the burst of pheromones
did the trick on you guys?"

   "Yes," Arnim grinned, "thank you for offering your daughters."

   "Oh, it was entirely their idea, I assure you.  Both of them were saving
themselves for the day," he grinned.

   "Their memories?"

   "Fully restored days ago.  They told me they needed to keep going with
the treatment to properly make sure.  I think, though, they've grown fond
of you two."

   "As we of them!"

   "Good!  Shall we get down to business?"

   ----------------------------------------------

   It came like a flash to Bobby McClone.  He'd been going over the
Geologist's report until he was bored to tears.  But suddenly it struck
him.

   "Of course!" he yelled to the heavens, "we're not looking at some
fucking time machine at all, but where and when it was!"

   He sat in his Washington office at the NTSB.  The report of 1070's
downing had not gone well.  The chiefs weren't happy, and who could blame
them?  'An open verdict.' That result sent shivers down their spines.

   But what was he to tell them?  'It is the finding of the NSTB
Investigation Team that flight 1070 was brought down by a time machine of
possible alien construction.'

   "And by the way?" he said aloud, "the machine probably receded back or
forwards in time afterwards.  Or, perhaps, it was never in 2006 at all but
sent it's effect down a time portal from some future era?" Boy, would the
Press have fun with that!

   Instead, they'd fudged the investigation, both he and Ari Ramcke, and
the NTSB chiefs were going to set the auditors on them.  They would revue
each item of evidence to see where the investigators had slipped up.  Bobby
was sure they could come to no other conclusion.

   Why didn't 'JF,' or Jurgen Fuller, or Jordan Freeman or whatever he
called himself, give him the whole story.  Fuller had only teased him with
hints and left him feeling foolish.  'Why didn't the bloody Kraut pilots
show up and put this all to bed?'

   Nothing added up in this case.  Even if you accepted the whole time
travel thing, nothing added up.

   --------------------------------------------

   The next morning, Reiner Kurzbach woke with a start.  He looked at the
beside alarm clock.  The dial was set in a globe of the World with an
Energia rocket orbiting it.  It was cheap, nasty and didn't keep
particularly good time.  The radium hands indicated 2am.  His first thought
was that he'd like to take it as a souvenir.  It would be good to leave to
his grandchildren.

   Marina's eyes flicked open and stared into his.  "You remember?" she
asked.

   "Yes," he replied, before a smile flashed over his face.  "You're my
mate?" he asked by way of confirmation.

   "Of course!" she smiled, "we're compatible."

   "Yes," he grinned, "so I've discovered."

   "You know what you have to do?" she asked.

   "I think so.  Your KGB brickheads overdosed me."

   "Yes, I thought they may have fried your brain.  I was worried." Marina
reached up and brushed his cheek.

   It had been a long, long time since a woman had touched him like that.
He took her hand and kissed it.  A wave of wellbeing overwhelmed him for a
moment.  He felt a sense of belonging, of contentment and peace.  He
squeezed her hand once more before releasing it.

   "So!" he smiled, "communications?"

   "Russia uses mostly a crossbar telephone system," she informed him, "it
is mostly antiquated even by 1980's standards.  The exchanges are routinely
monitored, especially international calls.  No-one can call overseas
without authority."

   "A HF digital embedded signal?"

   "The carrier wave would be too low-powered to trip the relays.  Remember
we're dealing with an electro-mechanical toll system?"

   "So, what's the options?  Do we have a geosynchronous satelite above?"

   "Unlikely," she chuckled, "and nothing like a civilian digital
transceiver, yet, my dear.  I use the the KGB's secure line to the Polish
consulate in Los Angeles..."

   "The Polish consulate?" Reiner exclaimed, "not there?"

   "Oh yes," she replied, "that nice Polish lady is working for us.  She is
also station chief for the SB, the Polish Security Service."

   "The Hell you say?"

   "She will relay everything.  Even the Government Communications
Directorate will not interfere with KGB calls.  It is as good as a secure
uplink."

   "No," he shook his head, "any phone call can be tapped."

   "By scrambler?  Standard procedure with a randomised algorithm?  I have
already called Raul using the system to let him know you've arrived
safely."

   "A busybody might notice the frequency of international calls from
Ongarchuk?  All scrambled?"

   "This is KGB central," she laughed, "it's not unusual."

   "Well, if you're sure?"

   "Of course!  And now we have 4 hours before the conference.  How do you
think we should spend it?" Marina jiggled her big breasts in front of his
face.  A smile broke out over Kurzbach's face.

   -----------------------------------------------

   When all the family arrived in the lounge, Raul solemnly brought out the
Transtemporal Holographic Communicator from the niche behind the portrait
of Emiliano Zapata.  He set it up on the table before switching it on and
standing back.

   A hum emanated from the device before a bright glow appeared in the air
above it.  Presently it resolved itself into an image of Guardian One.

   "Transition complete!" announced Raul to the machine.

   "Congratulations on a successful transition, Raul," the voice had a
faint blurriness, was deep, and resonated around the room.  "To begin, I
must confirm that all members of the team have emerged from memory
suppress?"

   "I believe so," Raul answered, "however, some doubt persists with
Kurzbach.  The KGB dosed him..."

   "I am here!" Reiner interrupted, "despite their worst efforts I have
come out of it...  thanks to my mate!" He appeared as a separate image to
the left of Guardian One.  Next to him was Marina.

   "I have given him some tests," Marina explained, "he's normal." There
followed a few sniggers around the room.

   "Good!" Guardian One replied.  "Now, to begin.  I will repeat this
briefing to make sure there've been no side effects from the memory
supress."

   "Time travel will be a reality," Guardian One continued, "in late 2010.
The principle will be discovered by a team initiated by Engineer Bob
Garland and Professor Sumilov from Russia.  We know this, of course,
because it has already happened."

   "We were fortunate in that the discoverers, early on, had sufficient
moral insight to realise the potential of what they were doing.  This
device could not be left up to Governments or individuals to control
because of the immeasurable harm that could be done to the natural
evolution of mankind.  Therefore it was placed into the hands of a group
known as the Guardians.  These men and women have the sacred duty of
safeguarding the timeline."

   "However, it came to our attention that there'd been some subtle changes
to man's natural progression.  Investigations revealed that there'd been
others also interested in time travel and had the means to develop a
device. We cannot allow this, therefore we put together a team of people,
from various times, that had the necessary combined skills to prevent the
indiscriminate use of time devices.  That team is you people."

   "In Soviet Russia we have Reiner Kurzbach who will form a strong bond of
friendship with the Professor.  He is our communications officer and
philosopher.  Marina was selected to be his mate.  Her skills are the
ability to make individuals disappear, permantly and without trace."
Everyone looked in Marina's direction.  She shrugged sheepishly at the
sudden attention.  "Of course, we hope she won't be needed," Guardian One
added.

   "In America we have Raul Hernandez, Banker, accountant and transition
co-ordinator.  Raul is based in this era and has the direct knowledge to
acclimatise the travellers; as are his daughters!" Everyone released a
brief chuckle.

   "Jurgen Fuller is our scientist and on him will be the task to monitor
explorations in time travel.  He will be based in Seattle, Washington and
with him will be Ella Hernandez.  She, of course, has the ability to... 
seduce people to give up their secrets...  particularly men." Everyone
broke out in laughter.

   "That doesn't mean I sleep with them!" she pleaded.

   "Of course not," Guardian One replied, "but all men would like to,
that's the key.  Ariana Hernandez, you have found out you're fluent in 15
major languages and a passable understanding of a dozen more.  Your skills
are inestimable.  Your mate, Arnim, of course, is team leader and the
safest pair of hands I've ever met.  He can be relied on to make the
correct decisions."

   "Connie Hernandez will take care of legal and, ah, relationship issues.
You realise it's vital to the success of the mission that you form strong
pair groupings.  Hence, we've paired you up as much as possible.  In the
coming years, these may change, but, in the meantime, it will be important
for the formation of the team's cohesiveness.  Sexual liaisons were
important to speed the memory recovery process, but we also felt it
important that you form bonds.  I presume the pairings have been
successful?" There was a general murmur and some shy smiles.

   Guardian One explained that the purpose of the memory supress was to
ease the transition to a different era.  Apparently, in the past, or
future, individuals had suffered depression and other psychological
problems with a sudden transition.  Drugs allowed the brain to adapt to the
contradictions in a manageable way.

   "The important elements of the temporal experiments came together in the
early nineties," Guardian One continued.  "1986 was chosen both to give you
time to build contemporary lives and because it was a convenient moment in
time to open a portal.  Arnim, Jurgen and Reiner, I'm sorry your colleagues
died in the crash of 1070, but, rest assured, they would've died in any
case.  History records, or did record, an air crash the next year, in which
those three were killed.  We endeavoured to find a time and place that
would have as little effect on the timeline as possible.  Besides, that
crash brought together Raul and Bob Garland; and inspired Bob to begin the
steps toward setting up his project.  Jurgen, you will nudge him
discretely, but he must tread the path himself."

   "Yes, Guardian," Fuller nodded.

   "Raul, you may use the financial information contained in Arnim's
computer to make sufficient investments to fund the operation.  Your
password will unlock the plan.  You will see we've suggested you widen your
portfolio to include some where you'll lose money.  This is important as
you may gain a reputation of a supernatural ability to pick winners.  We
don't want undue attention.  Over the next ten years you ought to make some
34 million.  I remind you about the strict injunction against using your
knowledge for personal gain?"

   "Yes, Guardian."

   "On the other hand, financial security is considered a necessity.  A
reasonable recompense for your sacrifices over the years shouldn't be
begrudged.  Are there any questions?"

   "My mission, Guardian?" Kurzbach asked, "I'm unclear."

   "Just make sure Sumilov arrives in the United States in '93.  The
Soviets won't let you leave, in any case, to protect their secrets." The
Guardian managed a brief grin.  "You have to sit tight there, I'm afraid,
until then.  Marina will be able to shield you from the more paranoid
elements of the military heirachy.  Meanwhile, I suggest you work with her
to install some secure communications.  Unfortunately, we couldn't provide
you with more modern technology for risk of discovery.  Your
Holotransceiver, there, will need to be destroyed.  Reiner, I'm afraid you
have the most difficult of tasks, but Marina, she is a very smart woman. 
You will find her a most loyal and capable companion."

   "So I'm beginning to discover!"

   "You must impress on Sumilov the need to keep any discoveries he is to
make to himself.  Russia cannot provide a safe environment for his
experiments for a good many years to come."

   "Reiner?" Marina interrupted, "we must dispose of the Transceiver, now,
security are likely to make a routine inspection."

   To a chorus of 'good lucks' from the rest of the team, the Soviet-based
operatives signed off.  Shortly, Guardian One also finished with the
exhortation to protect the timeline.

   Silently, the meeting broke up as the team wandered off to attend to
their preparations.

   --------------------------------------------
   KATZMAREK (C)

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