Aaaaaaand. . . the conclusion! This one's a bit longer than most posts, mainly because I'm starting school again, and probably won't be writing any new DS stories any time soon, so I thought it deserved more closure than the last two. I'll of course continue to follow the RP.)
_______________________________________________________________
“Shut it down!” yelled Zachary. “Get him out of there!”
Shelton fumbled with the controls. “I’m on it, I’m on it!”
With a flash the gateway shut down, and James came tumbling out. Behind him was Ricky’s body, the knife protruding from his chest.
Zachary ran to check on James. “Are you all right?”
James got to his feet shakily. “Yes. Excuse me.”
He stumbled over to his dented helmet which lay further beyond the gateway. “Hans, what’s the status on Werner?”
“Kerzach just told me. He’s stable, and Dr. Joe says he’s going to make a full recovery.”
James exhaled. “That’s great. Get everyone up here; it’s time to go home.”
“How are we going to get home?” asked Cale. “This bridge only operates in three dimensions.”
“Wait!” Shelton snapped his fingers. “Did you say your Shelton was on the other side of this bridge?”
“Yes. He said he was going to check around for anything else unusual.”
“Look around this room,” said Shelton, pointing at the various equipment. “Is any of it still there in 2009?”
James thought. “We saw that file cabinet in the corner.”
Shelton crossed over, opened it and took out a piece of paper. Sliding a green pen out of his coat pocket, he scribbled a note on the back, put it back on top, and shut the cabinet.
“Now we just have to wait,” he said.
Five minutes later, the familiar space-time fabric of the original bridge formed, and Shelton stepped through, confused, holding the paper.
“Did you actually write this? It looks like my handwriting.”
James took the paper.
Shelton: Dial the bridge to these coordinates, increase the t-coordinate by .01
P.S. you might need some more transportation.
James handed it back. “No, I didn’t.”
“Then who?” Shelton looked over James’ shoulder, and saw himself. His mouth dropped open. Then shut. Then open again.
Chuckling slightly, James stepped back through the bridge and reappeared in the present day.
The room was swarming with soldiers. James looked around and saw Aisha.
“We weren’t so lucky the second time we tried to sneak out of Carson City Camp,” she explained.
General Moby walked over, flanked by four soldiers. “Head in, men.”
The soldiers nodded and exited through the bridge.
“Cobalt squad,” explained Moby, as James watched them go. “Officially, they were the ones who traveled through the bridge and shut down Warden. Completely authorized, of course.”
“Of course.”
“Don’t worry,” said Moby. “Nobody’s going to know you or your team were involved. Other than Aisha, who ran the bridge, none of you were ever officially here.”
“Maybe,” said James, “but if there’s one thing all this has taught me, it’s that the term ëofficial’ says more about what the public finds out then the government.”
“True that,” agreed Moby. “But remember that this is much different from the Pelvanida incidents. For one, it was a smashing success. An openly hostile rebel group was shut down, a valuable piece of technology was recovered, and the public never found out. There’s no need for heads to roll.”
James nodded. “Still, even if they leave us alone, I doubt they’ll rescind their scientific bans. I’m still out of all the jobs I want.”
“Ah, but only for ten years,” Moby reminded, “and if you ever get desperate, we can make ten years go by fast.” He pointed over his shoulder at the Einstein-Rosen Bridge. James raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.
The first of the 1990 survivors were coming out now. Both Sheltons emerged, chatting excitedly, and Zachary was helping the wounded get to the Jeeps.
“James!” one of the Sheltons waved him over.
James obliged. “Which of you is which?”
“I’m me, and he’s him,” said one helpfully.
James rolled his eyes.
“I’m the alternate,” said the Shelton that was covered in scrapes and scuffs. “And we’ve decided, to reduce confusion, I’m going to go by our middle name, Oscar.”
James looked at Rudy. “Your middle name is Oscar?”
Rudy changed the subject. “We were thinking, Oscar doesn’t have a scientific ban on him, does he? He can get a job with the government.”
“Technically yes,” said James, “but the government’s never been one to listen to technicalities.”
“They will when I’m the only person who knows the t-coordinate conversion scale, not to mention being the foremost expert of bridge operations on the planet,” Oscar jumped in. “That gives me a bit of authority. And I’m going to need assistants, right?”
James smiled. “You mean…”
“Any of you who want to come work with me are welcome to.”
“I get dibs on best positions, though,” added Rudy.
“No, you don’t,” countered Oscar. “You think you call the shots just because you came first?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Think again.” Oscar looked over at Dr. Joe and Hans, who were just emerging. Werner was on a stretcher between them. “Got to go, I have to tell Werner about himself, he won’t believe it…”
And he left, followed by the disgruntled Rudy Shelton.
“James?” Zachary had come up behind him.
"Hey, Zach."
"Call me Steven."
"Middle name?"
Steven nodded silently. He stared at the activity around him. “Thank you for rescuing myself and my companions.”
“Don’t mention it.” James smiled wryly at watching Dr. Joe trying to push an excitedly babbling Oscar away from an interested Werner. “I can’t even begin to imagine what you went through to get home.”
“No, you can’t.” Steven reached into his pocket and pulled out a bunch of slips of paper. James saw they had the names of his team members on them.
“The first thing I’m going to do,” said Steven, “is finish a book chronicling what happened to our team, the trails we faced, who sacrificed themselves. So my teammates won’t be forgotten.”
James nodded. “You’ll never get to publish it.”
“Someday I will. Maybe in a hundred years. Secrets can only be kept for so long.”
“That’s the spirit,” James clapped him on the back, and they climbed back onto the mesa.
Werner’s group was waiting for a copter approaching to lift them off the mesa. Aisha was back with General Moby, trying to convince him to let her go through the bridge. Kerzach was picking out the helpful gang members from a line up. Cale wasn’t talking or socializing with anyone, but looked immensely pleased with himself.
“Yes,” said Steven absent-mindedly. “Your team is whole and all alive. Appreciate that very much.”
“I will.”
The helicopter took off, sending dust swirling around James and Steven’ feet. They watched it hover for a second, then set off slowly for the buildings in the distance.
“Are you going to take the next copter back?” asked James. “Or a Jeep?”
Steven shook his head. “For the first time since I existed, I have all the time in the world. I think I’ll walk.”
“So will I.”
They climbed down the mesa and started the long walk home.