"What did you and Finn talk about before?"

"Oh, we were discussing what our plans should be." he lied. “What we should do about Drakov and the others."

"I watched Finn's face while you two were talking." she said. "He didn't look as if he thought everything would be all right . "

"We're all worried, Jen. It's a dangerous situation. I just want you to stay out of it, that's all. I don't want to see you hurt. And I don't want you going back to Drakov."

"If he sends for me. I'll have to," she said.

"No. It's too risky."

"It would be too risky if I didn't go." she said. "It would warn him that something was wrong. I have to go on pretending. Scott. For your sake as well as mine."

"What if he finds out you've betrayed him?"

He won't find out." she said. "Nobody knows but you and your three friends. And he would never suspect that I could even think of turning against him. After all." she added, with a grimace, "he's the Master."

"He isn't your master, Jen. Not anymore."

"I could kill him myself." she said. vehemently. "Not only because of what he wants to do to you, but because of what he's done to me. All those years. all my life. I've believed that I was something less than human. I've believed that ever since I was a little girl, because that's what I was taught. I'd stand before the mirror and stare at my reflection, trying to see how I was different, how I was inferior. .”

"You weren't born the same way other people are born." said Scott, "but that's the only difference. That and the fact that Drakov had poisoned your mind. I know you're in the grip of powerful, confusing feelings right now, Jen, but you've got to try not to dwell on them. When this is over, I'll take you back with me and you'll get some help from doctors who can help you sort out those feelings. They'll help you to overcome all the damage Drakov has done to you. It will take some time. Jen but you'll be all right. I promise.”

"And you'll be with me? We can be together?"

Scott felt a tightening in his stomach. "Yes, we can be together.'

"I feel afraid. Take me out of here. Scoot. I want to be with you now. I need you to hold me. Just you and me, alone, together. the way it's going to be."

Across the room, O’Fallon watched over his cards as Scott and Jenny headed for the door.

"There goes the Kid." he said. "Another minute or two and we'll have one less temporal agent to worry about?

"So there you have it," said Delaney. "We seem to be stuck right smack in the middle of a giant confluence point and it looks like there's no telling which damn universe were in. You seem to have been primarily in this one, which is theirs. . . . I think, or maybe we're back in ours again. Anyway, it looks like I've been crossing over from one to the other. Don't ask me how. I don't know if there are specific areas in town where you can cross over if you happen to be in the right place at the right time or if one timeline son of winks out while the other one blinks in. Theoretically, since none of us happen to belong in either time sector, we're getting tossed around like corks on the ocean."

“Jesus. That should explain a lot of things." said Lucas. "Unfortunately. it raises more questions than it answers. How do we happen to know which universe we're in at any given time? And how do we know which timeline it is we're supposed to act in? Are the Network and the S.O.G. caught up in this, the same way as we are, or are we the only ones subject to this peculiar phenomenon for some reason?

And. if we're in the wrong timeline when whatever is supposed to happen happens, how do we know we can get back?"

“There are two more questions we have to consider.' Andre added. "One, how did Drakov manage to learn about everything that's going on and, two, how do we know that we can trust Jenny Reilly? She's still one of his hominoids, after all.”

“She seems on the level." said Delaney. "At least, Scott believes her. And I believe Scott."

"Scott is also infatuated with her.” Andre pointed out.

"I think it's much more than just infatuation,” Finn replied. "He made me promise that we'd take Jenny back with us and get her therapy for the damage Drakov has done to her. He said it was his last request, in case he didn't make it out of this, He said he . . . he had a feeling that he wouldn't. And he wanted me to tell you that he understood.”

Lucas exhaled heavily. “God, what a mess "

“Yeah “ Delaney agreed. "But even if we're not going to trust Jenny - and I'm entirely convinced we should—why would Drakov want to warn us about everything that's going on back here? Why warn us of his presence? I can see no reason for it. Except that Jenny has actually betrayed him for Scott's sake.”

"Well, either way, it makes no difference,” Lucas replied. "We got us a whole new ballgame. The only advantage we have, assuming Jenny's on the level, is that Drakov doesn't know she's come over to our side. But there's no way of knowing how long we'll have that advantage, so we're going to have to move fast."

"Take Drakov first; said Andre.

“We'll have to. And we're going to have to do it right now."

“What about Scott'?" asked Finn.

Lucas shook his head and sighed. "I don't know. I just don't know. All we can do at this point is play it by ear and hope for the best. But we'll have to hit Drakov fast and hit him hard. Take him alive, if possible. Did Jenny tell Scott how many people he's got with him?'

“Scott said she saw at least four at that baseops he's got in London, on the other side of the chronoplate in the opium den. He's got Becky, over at the saloon, and some guy named Indian Charlie. Neither Scott nor I have seen him. That's all we know about. There could be others. Plus he's got an undetermined number of the Chinese residents of Hop Town that he can call upon. It seems he's got them thinking he's some kind of sorcerer. They're all afraid of him, but whether or not they'll actually fight for him is anybody's guess.”

"Considering the risk involved, we'd better call for backup," Andre said.

"I've been thinking about that," Lucas replied, and I'm not sure if we should. The more people from the future we introduce into this time sector, the greater the odds of increasing the instability that's already present here. If we bring in reinforcements, it may force Stone's hand and we would wind up fighting a pitched battle in the streets of Tombstone, with no one being certain which timeline they're fighting in. For all we know, that's exactly what Darkness doesn't want to happen. Damn it, if only he'd told us more!"

"Only what happens if we go after Drakov by ourselves and we don't make it?" asked Andre. "Who's going to stop the S.O.G. and the Network? Who'll be around to send up the balloon?"

"There's still Neilson," said Delaney.

"No good." said Lucas. "I don't want to count on him. For one thing, he's gotten too mixed-up in the scenario. For another, he's too vulnerable. We'll need somebody else. We'll have to bring in someone who can take charge immediately and call in the strike if anything goes wrong and we don't make it."

"Cooper?" Andre said.

Lucas nodded. "Yeah, Cooper. We need somebody who won't get nervous and jump the gun, but who can hit and run with maximum effectiveness if need be. Cooper would be perfect. Under any other circumstances, he'd be the one we'd pick and we're just going to have to go on our best instincts. We've got to treat this as if it were any other mission. We can't afford to question our decisions and wonder if we shouldn't be doing something different than what we ordinarily would have done, because of Darkness. He told us that whatever's going to happen, we'll be in a position to affect it, so I've got to assume were going to live at least that long.

"Well, that's a cheery thought." Delaney said.

"We've got to consider all the possibilities," Lucas continued "The key point may come when we make our move against Drakov. Or it may come before that, in the next five or ten minutes, for all we know. Or it may come afterwards, involving either the Network or the S.O.G. or maybe even both. It may come when Cooper brings his troops in. There's no way we can know, but we do know that we're going be there when it happens. When it does. Darkness is going to clock in and give us the word and well have to act immediately. So I want to know right now if anybody has any problems with that."

"I take it you don't." Delaney said.

"Yeah. I do." Lucas replied, with a nod, "but I've made up my mind that I'm going to do whatever he says without asking any questions. It's too great a risk not to. He's never let us down before. We're just going to have to trust him."

"Speaking hypothetically . . I hope." Delaney said, "what if what we're going to have to do involves killing one of us?"

"Good Lord." said Andre. "You don't really think . . . no, that can't be. Darkness said that whatever happened didn't happen as a result of anything we did, directly. Just that we're going to be in a position to change it."

"Yeah but what if changing it means that one of us is going to die?" Delaney asked. "What if something that one of us is supposed to do indirectly triggers whatever disaster is going to occur? And the only chance the others have to stop him . . . or her . . . is to shoot?"

There was a long silence.

"We have to consider that possibility," said Delaney, finally."Suppose you had to kill me, Lucas. Or Andre. Could you do it?"

Lucas swallowed hard and stared at him for a long moment. Finally, he nodded. "Yeah. I could. I don't know how I'd ever live with it afterward, but if I had to . . with everything that's at stake ...He shook his head. "I'd have no choice. What about you?"

Delaney nodded.

"What are you guys saying'?" Andre whispered her eyes wide.

"Andre?"

"This is crazy. It isn't going to happen. It can't—

"Maybe that's why Darkness didn't tell us any more than he did," Delaney said.

"I can't believe that." she said. "I won't believe it!"

"But what if it comes to that?" asked Lucas. "Could you kill me? or Finn?"

"How in God's name can you ask me that?"

"Because I have to."

She shook her head. How could I?"

"Because billions of lives in the future could depend upon it, that's how," Lucas replied. "There's a chance, maybe a remote chance, but a chance that it could all come down to you. And if it does, Lieutenant. I’ll expect you to do your duty."

She glanced from him to Delaney with a stricken look.

" Lieutenant!"

"Yes, sir." she said, softly, looking away from them.

"I didn't hear you!"

She jerked around, looking at him as if he'd struck her. "I said, yes, sir!"

Lucas nodded, "Right. Let's not waste any more time. Finn, I want you to clock back to Plus Time and get Colonel Cooper back here. He's to bring no more than two men with him. Use your room over at the boarding house as the transition point. Tell him he's to stay them and not budge from that room, no matter what, till we get back. If we're not back by morning, or if he's attacked, then he's in charge. Brief him on the situation and get back here as quickly as you can."

"I'm on my way."

Delaney got up and popped the cover on his warp disc, then clocked out.

"Andre . . .” Lucas said gently

She got up, turned away from him, walked over to the window and stood there looking out, not saying a word.

10

"I count six," said Ben Stone, standing in the vacant lot next to Fly's Boarding House on Fremont Street." How many do you make?"

"That's what I've got, sir," said Lieutenant Victor Capiletti, of the Special Operations Group. "Two across the street. two over on Third, around the corner, and the two that just ducked inside the alley. What do you think, Captain?"

"I'm not sure," said Stone. using the corner of Harwood's house, on the west side of the lot, as a cover from which to check the street. They were looking toward the Aztec Rooming House. "It looks like a loose security perimeter to me. They don't want to attract attention, but they've got the place pretty well covered. They could be getting ready to clock in a strike force, using Delaney's room upstairs as a transition point."

"Can't have that." said Capiletti.

"No. we can't, can we?" Stone replied. "Our timing couldn't have been more perfect. We set out to take one T.I.A. agent and we may just wind up getting their entire strike force. All we have to do is secure the transition point and take them out as they clock in. It'll be like shooting fish in a barrel."

"We'll have to take out-their external security first, without alerting whoever's inside." said Capiletti.

"I want your team to handle it without making any noise," said Stone. "The last thing I want is interference from the locals."

"Leave it to me." Capiletti spoke into his radio. "Okay, people, we're gonna take ‘em. No noise. Repeat, no noise. And I want the bodies disposed of. Robbins. Mattick, Howard, Stein, you take the two in the alley. Andrushack, Washburn, Kent and Sagretti. you take the two on Third. Donninger and Miller, you stand by. On my signal, repeat, on my signal, use stingers to drop the two out front. Lethal dose. Okay, everybody got it? Move out!"

It was just a short walk down Allen Street to the hotel, but they hadn't gone more than a few steps past the corner of Allen and Fifth, where the Oriental Saloon was located, when Scott heard the ominous clicking of a hammer being cocked.

"Don't move, Kid," said Curly Bill Brocius. "Keep your hands out at your sides and turn around, real slow."

Scott stood perfectly still. Beside him, Jenny stiffened with a gasp and looked over her shoulder.

"Curly Bill! What are you doing? Have you gone crazy?"

"You step away from him now, Jenny. This is between the Kid and me."

"Do as he says, Jen," Scott said.

"But—"

" Do as he says!"

She moved away from his side,

"Why didn't you just shoot me in the back, Brocius?" said Scott, tensing.

"I don't think I want to do that," Curly Bill replied. "You're gonna get it from the front, so everyone will know I can beat you to the draw when it counts."

"I see," said Scott, not turning around. "Only you've already got your pistol out. That's not exactly beating me, is it?"

"Bill, don't—"

"Stay out of it, Jenny!" Scott snapped.

"I will not stay out of it! Bill, this is murder! You'll hang for it!"

"Maybe I will and maybe I won't." Curly Bill replied. "I'll take my chances. I'll give you a fair chance, Kid. Pistols loaded this time. Let's do it for real."

"How do I know you won't just shoot me as soon as I turn around?" asked Scott.

In reply. Curly Bill lowered the hammer on his Colt and put it back in its holster. "I've holstered my pistol. Ask Jenny if you don't believe me."

Scott frowned. "Did he do it, Jenny?"

"Yes," she said, in a small voice.

Scott glanced at her. "You're too close. Move back."

"Scott.

"I said, move back!"

She stepped back up on the boardwalk, watching them both fearfully.

"Go ahead, Kid. Turn around and make your play."

Behind them, some people saw what was going on and made haste to get out of range of any stray bullets. Scott moistened his lips. Something was wrong here. Curly Bill knew he could beat him. Surely he wasn't going to give him an even chance. Unless, of course, there was another gun pointed at him somewhere. . .

Still standing with his back to Brocius. Scott said. "I'd like to give Jenny a kiss, Curly Bill. Just in case. That all right with you?"

"Sure. Why not? Be quick about it, though."

"Jenny . .

She came running to his arms. "Scott . ."

"Listen, Jenny," he whispered in her ear, urgently, as he put his arms around her. "Look up at the roof of the saloon and tell me if you see anybody up there."

He felt her stiffen, then she pressed her cheek against his as he hugged her close, so she could see behind him. He heard her sharp intake of breath.

"Oh. God." she whispered. "Scott. I can see a man up there! He's got a Winchester!"

"Okay. Jenny, keep calm." Scott whispered back. As he held her close, with his hands behind her back, he popped open the hinged cover on his warp disc. Pretending to kiss her neck, he looked down behind her and quickly programmed the disc, hoping he could reedy estimate the height and distance. . .

"That's enough!" said Brocius. "Let's get on with it!"

"Jen. as soon as I let you go. I want you to get out of here." said Scott.

"Don't ask any questions, just run. Can I count on you?"

She nodded. He gave her a quick kiss and let her go. She ran back toward the saloon.

"Okay, Kid. Turn around and make your play."

Instead of turning around. Scott quickly hit the button on his warp disc and disappeared.

Brocius quickly drew his gun, then blinked and stared with disbelief. "What the .

Scott reappeared on the roof of the Oriental Saloon, directly behind the rifleman. The man still hadn't recovered from his shock at suddenly seeing his target vanish into thin air.

"Psst! Over here," said Scott.

As the startled man spun around. Scott fired. The bullet took him in the chest and he went flying off the roof to land in the street below.

Scott moved to the edge and looked down. Brocius, having heard the gunfire, was staring up at him, his jaw hanging open. The moment he saw him, he lifted his gun and let off a wild shot, then took off running.

Scott ducked hack from the edge as soon as Brocius fired at him. When he heard his running footsteps on the boardwalk below, he moved forward again and looked down at the body of the sniper, sprawled on the street below. It was Ross Demming.

Scott's lips were set in a tight grimace. It was possible that Demming and Brocius had been acting on their own, but he didn't believe it for a second. It had to be O’Fallon, in his guise of Johnny Ringo, setting him up for an ambush. The gloves were off. He moved back from the edge of the roof as people came running out into the street to see what happened. He set the transition coordinates on his warp disc for his room back at the hotel and clocked out. As soon as he materialized, he spun around quickly, his guns out, but the room was empty.

It would no longer be safe to stay here. Only where else could he go? It would no longer be safe anywhere. Brocius didn't seem in the least bit worried about having Jenny witness the shooting. Nor did he try to stop her when she ran. Which could only mean one thing. He was not concerned about the Earps. He checked the date on his disc. October 25. 1881. The eve of the O.K. Corral shoot-out.

He frowned. That couldn't possibly be right. That was still days away. But the warp disc couldn't be wrong. He had never heard of one malfunctioning. And if it had malfunctioned . . . no, he didn't want to think about that. It was getting late. He hurried downstairs to the bar and got a copy of the Tombstone Epitaph. He stared at the front page with disbelief.

“Like a drink, Kid?" asked the barman.

“Yeah," said Scott, dully, “Whiskey. Make it a double.”

The date on the front page was October 25. 1881. It seemed impossible. Somehow, without even being aware of it, he'd lost an entire week.

He downed the whiskey in two quick gulps, feeling the fire as it burned down his throat and in his stomach. A whole week? How was it possible? He paid for his drink, put the paper down on the bar and went back up to his room, in a daze. He locked the door and sat down on his bed, his mind racing.

He could think of only one possible explanation. The temporal instability was increasing rapidly and dramatically Either he had somehow crossed over from one timeline into the other without realizing it, and lost a week in the process, or the timeline had started to ripple and the effect was concentrated in this sector. Somehow, a week had passed in a matter of hours. And he hadn't even noticed. It was as if he'd been picked up by a timewave and deposited farther down the shore.

He tried to think what implications this new development could have for the mission. Had he alone experienced this effect, or were Priest. Cross and Delaney caught up in it as well? And, if so, were they aware of it? Would he be able to warn them, or were they still in the other timeline? And what would happen if they'd been caught in the ripple effect and carried farther down the timestream than where he was now?

He had no answers. No idea what to do. Priest was in command of the mission. Only Priest was not around to give commands. There was no going by the book because the book had never covered situations such as this. There had never been a situation such as this before and, quite possibly, there never would be again. Was this where the whole thing fell apart? Was the temporal instability in this sector going to grow into a timewave that would travel down the timestream, eventually breaking somewhere in the future in a massive timestream split? Was it possible that he was the only one who could prevent it?

No. Not prevent it. Change it. Because whatever it was he was fated to do, according to history as it was seen from the time that Darkness came from, he had already done it. If, in fact, he was the one. Perhaps he wasn't. Perhaps it wouldn't have anything to do with him at all. in spite of the powerful gut instinct that he had, telling him that he was about to be involved in something of monumental significance.

We can change history. Scott thought. We learned that the hard way. Everything that's happened from the first time a man traveled back into the past has led to this point. And it was a point of no return, because they had learned that there was really only one chance to effect a temporal adjustment. If it failed the first time, and another effort was made to clock back to a point before the original adjustment mission was attempted and try again, it only contributed to the instability of that temporal scenario and increased the odds against them.

If a temporal anomaly or disruption was discovered and a team was clocked hack to effect an adjustment, they were already working against the force of temporal inertia and their very presence meant there was a chance that instead of adjusting the disruption, they would only make it worse. If they failed, and another team was clocked hack to try again, they would be clocking into a time sector that was already unstable to begin with and they would also encounter the original adjustment team, which in itself could bring about a temporal paradox. They had learned that the hard way, too.

Temporal anomalies that had been brought about by the actions of the Time Wars had resulted in historical disruptions that had to be adjusted, but the adjustment missions themselves, even though successful, had undoubtedly affected temporal inertia in ways that manifested themselves as more anomalies and disruptions further down the timestream. Nor was there any way of knowing how many temporal anomalies brought about by time travel had gone completely undiscovered. It was like trying to plug a hole in a pipe that had sprung a leak, only each time one leak was stopped, two more appeared. There seemed to be no end to it.

Only what if this was the end? What if, this time, history could not be changed? What if, this time, they had run out of time?

Scott took his pistols out of their holsters and laid them on the bed, beside him. One had been fired when he had killed Ross Demming a short while ago. Or was it a week ago?

He picked up the fired piece in his left hand, pulled the hammer back to half cock and opened the loading gate on the right side of the frame. Strange, he wondered, how for so many years no one had thought to question that. It was simply accepted. To load or unload the gun, a right-handed shooter had to transfer the weapon to his left hand, open the gate on the right side, and manually rotate the cylinder, using the ejector rod to push out one empty brass casing at a time, then load with the right hand. For a left-handed shooter, the procedure was much simpler and more natural. One simply continued to hold the gun in the shooting hand, pulled back the hammer halfway, opened up the gate and proceeded to reload. Colonel Sam Colt had been left-handed and he had designed the Peacemaker as a left-handed gun. Thereafter, the entire world had unquestioningly used the lefthanded design for well over a hundred years, until the late 20th century, when a man named Bill Grover had finally hit upon the idea of manufacturing a righthanded Peacemaker with the loading gate on the left side of the frame. It seemed incredible that no one had ever thought of that before. It was a testimony to the genius of Sam Colt that his Single Action Army had been considered so perfect that for over a hundred years, no one had thought of modifying the design.

As he ejected the fired brass casing and slipped in a fresh cartridge. Scott wondered what it meant that he knew about things like that. In the 27th century. it was completely useless, trivial knowledge, and yet he had researched such obscure facts with relentless fascination, long before it ever occurred to him that he might one day enlist in the Temporal Corps. Why, in a time when lead projectile weapons had been obsolete for several hundred years, had he become so fascinated with them? Why had he devoted so many long hours to practicing with them, going to all the trouble of making his own bullets from scratch, only to perfect an arcane form of marksmanship and self-defense that would have no use whatsoever for him in modern life? Why had he been so intensely interested in the history of the Old West, more so than in that of any other time, and in the lives of the men who became frontier legends? Was it fate?

All his life. Scott had felt he had been born in the wrong time. Then when he had first clocked into this temporal scenario, he had felt suddenly and inexplicably at home, as if this was where he truly belonged. In the other timeline, he—or his twin—apparently did belong here. Maybe that was the anomaly. Maybe he should have been born in this time in the first place, only because of some temporal disruption brought about by time travelers before him, something had gone wrong and he had been born about eight hundred years too late. A man out of time, returned by Fate to the time in which he really belonged, completing some sort of temporal cycle, a missing piece of the puzzle finally dropped into place. Only now that he was here, was it his fate to live or die? The fate of billions of future lives could rest on the answer to that question.

He held the handsome, engraved and silver-plated Colt in his hand. It felt as if it had always belonged there. He had dreamed of owning such a revolver all his life. He thumbed back the hammer and sat for a long moment in silent thought. What would happen if he stuck the barrel in his mouth, angled upward, and squeezed the trigger? The big .45 caliber bullet would smash through the roof of his mouth and into his brain in a inert fraction of a second. There probably wouldn't be time to feel any pain.

Perhaps that was the solution. If he killed himself, then he wouldn't be able to do anything to upset the balance of the timestream and bring on that disaster in the future. If he was, in fact, at the center of the whole thing, then killing himself might be the perfect solution to it all. It would absolve Priest, Cross and Delaney of having to do it. And if it could save lives, then he was prepared to do it.

But, on the other hand, what if that was exactly the wrong move? What if the act of his suicide triggered off whatever was supposed to happen? But, if that were the case, then Priest, Cross and Delaney would be in a position to do something about it. To stop him, perhaps. Wasn't that what Darkness had told them?

In that case, maybe he should go ahead and do it . . . and see if they arrived to stop him in the nick of time. Only if they didn't

Scott was in an agony of indecision. He had never wanted to live so much as he did now. He had never felt as vibrantly alive as he did now. He had never been in love the way he was with Jenny. It was as if, after all those years of living out of time, he had finally found himself. Only what was he to do?

He started at the loud knocking on his door. He picked up his other gun and cocked it.

"Who is it?"

"Wyatt Earp. Open up, Kid."

Scott holstered his pistols and went to open the door. The tall figure of the marshal confronted him.

"You'll have to come with me. Kid." said Wyatt.

Scott stared at him. Then he looked down and saw the gun.

"I'm putting you under arrest for the murder of Ross Demming. Hand over your guns."

The two rustlers waiting in the alley never knew what hit them. One moment, they were standing near the entrance to the alley, staying out of sight and keeping a watch out for Delaney, the next, they were suddenly being grabbed from behind by black-suited commandos. They felt hands being clapped over their mouths and then an agonizing, incandescent pain as the razor sharp, nine-inch combat blades did their grisly work. Their bodies slumped to the ground. Without wasting any time, the S.O.G. commandos quickly strapped warp discs to the corpses' wrists and clocked the bodies out. One of them spoke into his wrist communicator.

"Mattick to Team Leader."

"Go ahead, Mattick

Two down."

"Roger. Stand by."

On Third Street, just around the corner of the Aztec Rooming House, two gunmen were shocked out of their wits when two black-uniformed men in commando masks suddenly appeared before them out of nowhere. That one second of shock was plenty of time for the two men who clocked in behind them to move up and slit their throats.

"Sagretti to Team Leader.

"Go ahead, Sagretti."

"Four down, two to go."

"That's a roger. Stand by and stay out of sight. Okay, Miller, Donninger. you got a clear shot at the two out front?'

“That's a roger."

"Drop ‘em."

The two commandos stationed on the roof across the street from the rooming house fired. One of the rustlers slapped his hand to his chest.

“Ow! Jeez,. damn skeeters—" then he spasmed and dropped dead as the fastacting poison did its work. His partner collapsed a fraction of a second later. Capiletti spoke into his radio. "Okay. Sagretti, get those bodies out of there!

Now! Move it!"

The black-clad commandos blended with the shadows as they quickly ran around the corner and up to the fallen rustlers. Seconds later, the bodies were gone.

"Well done. Lieutenant." said Stone. He pulled back his sleeve and spoke into his own radio. "Listen up. This is Stone. I'm going in Give me five seconds once I go through the front door, then move in behind me. We're taking that house. Miller, Donninger, you keep to your posts. Cover the street."

"Roger. Captain.-

“Okay, here we go." said Stone. He turned to Capiletti who, unlike the other commandos, was dressed in period clothes He was wearing jeans, a cotton shirt, boots and a Stetson hat. Only beneath his coat, his holsters held a laser and a plasma pistol. "Let's go." said Stone.

Together. the two men started across the street, heading toward the rooming house.

O’Fallon stood among the crowd, looking down at the body of Ross Demming. There was a slight tic at the corner of his mouth. He balled his hands into fists. Idiots, he thought. Goddamn idiots! A simple job, one shooter on the street, another on the roof to cover him. How in hell could they possibly have bungled it?

And where in hell was Brocius?

“All right, move aside." said Wyatt Earp, pushing his way through the crowd. He looked down at the body sprawled out on the street. "Demming.” he said, with a grimace. "Had a feelin’ he'd wind up like this, sooner or later “

He bent down and picked up the Winchester that was lying next to the corpse. He checked it. "It hasn't been fired." He glanced around at the crowd. "Anybody see what happened?"

"I saw the whole thing. Marshal," said O’Fallon. "It was the Montana Kid. He shot Ross down in cold blood. Never even gave him a chance."

"He's lying!" Jenny shouted.

Wyatt turned toward her. "What do you know about this, Jenny?"

"I was right here." she said. "I was leaving the saloon with Scott when Curly Bill came up behind us and jerked his pistol!"

"Then what's Demming doing here?" asked Wyatt.

"He was up on the roof of the saloon, with his rifle," Jenny said. "Bill wanted Scott to turn around and make his play and Demming was going to shoot him down as soon as he turned around."

"So what happened to Curly Bill?” asked Wyatt.

"He ran after Scott shot Demming." Jenny said.

"And Demming was up on the roof, you say?" asked Wyatt He turned and looked up at the roof. "How did the Kid happen to see him up there?"

"He didn't," Jenny said. "I did. I saw him and I warned Scott.”

“You saw him." Wyatt said "What made you think to look up there?"

"Scott told me to look."

"I see," said Wyatt, pursing his lips thoughtfully. "Why couldn't he look himself?”

"Because he had his back turned."

"And with his back turned, he knew there was someone on the roof behind him?"

Jenny saw how it was going and it wasn't going well. "He . . he knew that Curly Bill knew he couldn't beat him and he figured out that someone else had to have a gun on him.”

Wyatt grunted. "So he shot Ross Demming."

"It was self-defense!" said Jenny.

"Head shot." Wyatt said. He turned to look at the roof again. "Clear up there, eh? In the dark, too. What was Curly Bill doing all this time?"

"I told you." Jenny said, "he ran."

"Why didn't he just shoot the Kid while the Kid was shooting Demming? He had the drop on him, didn't he?”

"He . . well, he couldn't because . .. " Jenny's voice trailed off.

"Marshal, she couldn't have seen anything," O'Fallon said. "She was inside, in the saloon. Ain't that right, boys?"

"Yeah, that's right, I saw her." Zaber replied.

"And Curly Bill left quite a while ago," O'Fallon said.

"Alter the Kid called him out back there in saloon.”

"The Kid called him out?" asked Wyatt.

“Its a lie!" Jenny said "He just offered to show Bill who was faster."

"Ain't that the same thing?" asked O'Fallon.

"They drew on each other with empty pistols!" Jenny said. "Ask anybody!

They all saw!"

"And once the Kid saw he could take Curly Bill, he decided to do it for real." said O'Fallon. "Curly Bill left and the Kid went out after him, but he ran into Ross Demming first and decided to take care of some old business."

"It isn't true!" shouted Jenny. "He's making it all up!" "What was Demming doing with a Winchester?" asked Wyatt.

"He had it on his horse," O'Fallon said. He was gettin' ready to ride out of town when the Kid came out. When the Kid saw him, he jerked his pistol. Ross went for the rifle in his scabbard, but just barely got it out when the Kid shot him. You know how fast the Kid is."

"What happened to his horse?"

"Ran off when the shots were fired," O'Fallon lied, smoothly. "I don't know where Jenny got this roof business, but you have to know. Marshal, she's in love with the Kid. Wouldn't have anything to do with anybody else ever since the Kid showed up. You can ask anyone. She's his woman. You can't blame her for tryin' to protect him. I'd like a woman of mine to do the same."

"Is that true, Jenny?" Wyatt asked.

She shook her head. "Surely, you don't believe him?"

"I know how you feel about the Kid, Jenny," Wyatt said. "Everyone in town knows. And if it happened like you said, I can't see how the Kid could have shot Demming down from that roof without having Curly Bill shoot him. Nobody's that fast."

"But .

. but that's the way it happened! I swear!"

Sheriff Behan pushed his way through the crowd. "Heard there was a shootin'," he said.

"You don't say," said Wyatt. wryly.

Behan shot him an angry look. "Ross Demming, eh? Looks like the Kid finally got him."

"How do you know it was the Kid?" asked Wyatt.

"Heck. everybody knows there was bad blood between those two." said Behan, "ever since the Kid gunned down his brother. I understand they had a near set-to in the Grand Hotel a while hack. Fact, you were them, weren't you. Wyatt?"

"I was there." admitted Earp.

"Wyatt, you're not going to believe these men?" said Jenny.

"It appears I'll have to believe them enough to put the Kid under arrest. Jenny." Wyatt replied.

"But you know what kind of men they are?" she argued, with exasperation.

"That's right, Jenny." Wyatt said, looking at her sympathetically. "I know. And I also know what kind of man the Kid is. He's a gunfighter and there's enough information to make him a suspect. I'm going to have to take him into custody and let the court decide."

"But you don't understand." she protested. "You can't!"

"I have to, Jenny," Earp replied, misunderstanding the reason for her distress. "And for his sake. I hope the Kid comes along quietly. He'll get fair treatment. I promise. I'll continue to look into this. I have no intention of letting a man hang on the word of someone like Johnny Ringo."

He gave O'Fallon and his men a hard stare.

"Just tellin' the truth. Marshal." said O'Fallon, with a shrug. "I saw what I saw."

"That's what you say, Ringo." Wyatt Earp replied. "But I think I'll ask around just the same and find out if anybody else saw the same thing."

Jenny felt someone come up beside her and touch her elbow. She turned to see Indian Charlie standing by her side, he merely nodded at her once, then slipped away through the crowd She felt a tightening in her stomach. Drakov wanted to see her.

As she moved away from the crowd, she felt herself torn by indecision. If she refused to respond to Drakov's summons, he would know that something had gone wrong. If she went to him now, Scott would be placed under arrest and thrown in jail and there would be no one to warn his friends of what had happened. Perhaps if she could find them quickly and let them know that Scott was in trouble, then go back and see Drakov. . . .

She ran down the street, toward the Grand Hotel. She ran inside and up the stairs, to Lucas’ Priest's room. She pounded on the door. 'There was no answer. In desperation, she pounded again and this time, the door opened, but it wasn't Lucas Priest. It was another man, with a large, bushy moustache and redrimmed eyes. His nightshirt bulged out over his paunch.

"What in tarnation. . . ?”

"Where's Mr. Priest?"

"There ain't no one by that name here, Missy. But say . . . will I do?"

She backed away, then turned and ran down the stairs and out into the street.

Ike Canton stood at the bar in Hafford's Saloon, hunched over a whiskey. In defiance of the town ordinance, there was a six-gun stuck in his belt, beneath his coat, and a Winchester .44-40 rifle lying on the bar before him. The bartender kept glancing at the rifle nervously. Clanton was working up a real snootful and guns and whiskey didn't mix.

"Want me to hold on to that gun for you. Ike?" the bartender asked.

Clanton slapped a beefy hand on top of it. “It's stayin' right here." he replied, in a surly voice. "There's men in this town lookin' to murder me and if they come lookin' for a fight, they'll get one!"

He glanced around at the other patrons in the bar. "You all heard that!" he said, loudly.

"I don't want any trouble in here, Ike." the bartender said.

"Ain't me that's causin' trouble." Clanton replied. I was mindin' my own business when that Doc Holliday invited me to jerk my pistol! I couldn't defend myself because I wasn't heeled, but that Virgil harp was right there with him and you think he arrested Holliday for makin' a play against an unarmed man? No. sir! I tell you, they're all in it together, those Earps and Holliday! They've been spreadin' lies about me, tryin' to frame me, and now they're out to murder me, as well!"

He patted the rifle once again. "That's stayin' right there! Man's got a right to protect himself! Gimme another whiskey!"

"Maybe you'd better go home and go to bed Ike " said the barman. "You've already had quite a lot to drink—"

"I said, another whiskey!" Clanton shouted, slamming his hand down on the bar. "I ain't goin' nowhere! I ain't goin' to bed. I'm goin' to stay right here in town and as soon as the Earps or Holliday show themselves out there on that street, the ball opens! They're gonna have to fight!"

The bartender nervously poured him another shot of whiskey. Clanton tossed it back. He was tired of being caught in the middle of this whole thing. First Ringo and the others coming in and taking over, telling him and his boys what to do, then the Earps and Holliday, with their high and mighty ways, doing everything they could to run him off, acting like they were the lords of the most and trying to turn people against him. He was tired of it. Sick and tired. Things were working out just fine till those damn Earps showed up with Holliday.

He had complained bitterly to Johnny and the others, telling them what lies Wyatt Earp was spreading. A lot of the boys were even acting as if they believed it. And Wyatt was a liar. He'd promised that he would keep their deal secret and he'd lied about that. He probably never intended on paying that reward money, after all, Son of a bitch would probably have kept it for himself. Now he was left was nothing. There was no reward money, because Head and Leonard had to go and get themselves killed in Hachita, and Crane was dead as well. So the whole thing fell apart, only Wyatt had broken his promise and told about the deal and now some of the boys weren't sure if Clanton wouldn't also double-cross them for some reward money if he were to get the chance.

"Those damn Earps are always gettin' in the way!" he'd said to Curly Bill, earlier that day. "And I've had about all I can take of Doc Holliday. as well!"

"Then maybe you ought to do something about it." Curly Bill had said.

“Yeah, maybe I oughtta."

"Maybe you should fight."

"What. just me? Against the four of 'em?"

"Take Frank. Tom and Billy with you." Curly Bill had said. "We'll back you up."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I've had a bellyful of the Earps myself. I'll get the boys together and we'll ride on into town tomorrow. You call the Earps out for a fight. When they come out, we'll all be waitin' for 'em."

"One more time." said Ike now, pointing at his shot glass.

"Don't you think you've had enough, Ike?" asked the barman.

Clanton fixed him with a baleful glare. "You gonna give me another drink or not?"

The barman poured another whiskey. Ike drank it down. fortifying himself with liquid courage-Alone. he would have dreaded going up against the Earps and Holliday. Even if he had Frank, Tom and Billy along with him. But with Curly Bill and all the boys backing him up, he had nothing to worry about. The Earps and that bastard, Holliday, wouldn't stand a chance.

11

Colonel Brian Cooper and two of his Temporal Ranger officers took a quick look around at Delaney's room in the Aztec. The rooming house was located at the northwest end of town, on the corner of Third and Fremont. It was a very small room, with only one window looking out over Fremont Street from the second floor. There was a bed, a chair, a bureau, a washstand and basin, a small table and a mirror. That was about it as far as furnishings went. There was a small closet and a door leading out into the hallway. With four of them standing in the room, it felt cramped. Cooper's two officers, Lieutenant Georgeson and Captain Tilley, did not look very pleased with the arrangements.

"This the best you could do?" asked Tilley, dubiously. He was tall and dark, with a trim, athletic build, he moved with the erect posture and controlled tension of the professional soldier, a man who seemed relaxed, yet prepared to react quickly to any threat on an instant's notice.

"I'm afraid so." Delaney replied.

Georgeson shook his head, he was a stark contrast to the swarthy Tilley. blond and fair complected, slightly shorter and slimmer, with a contemplative, vaguely studious air about him. He gave the impression of being careful and deliberate. "Keeping this place secure isn't going to be easy," he said. "And we're looking at possible hostilities from Drakov. the Network and the S.0.G.?"

"What we've got is what we've got," said Cooper, curtly. "We're going to have to make the best of it." Colonel Cooper, commander of the elite Ranger Pathfinder division based in Galveston, was tall and trimly muscular, with sharp, angular features and curly, light brown hair. His high-cheekboned face was covered with coarse stubble and his eyes had an unsettlingly direct and intense gaze. He spoke in sharp, clipped tones and had the air of a man who assessed situations quickly and took firm charge.

All three men were dressed in period costumes. Tilley wore jeans and boots, a denim shirt, a bandana, a gray Stetson and a long trail duster. His dark hair hung down to his shoulders and he had a full beard. He would have looked perfectly at home on horseback, driving a herd of cattle or perhaps robbing a bank. Georgeson had on a pearl gray bowler hat, a black frock coat. dark trousers, jodhpur boots, a white shin and a gray silk vest. He was clean shaven, his blond hair slightly shaggy, and he looked like the sort of man who might be a professional gambler or a big city dandy. Cooper wore black trousers, high-heeled boots, a black frock coat and a white shirt with a black vest. His curly hair fell loosely to his shoulders from beneath his black Stetson, yet for all his western accoutrements, he looked more like the leader of a motorcycle gang than a cowboy. None of the three looked "regular Army." In any other time but the 27th century, when the service had special need of men with their distinct talents, they would probably have been mercenaries or contract assassins.

Beneath his duster, Tilley had a short plasma rifle slung from his shoulder, barrel pointed downward, so that he could quickly grab it, swing it up and bring it into play. He also wore a laser pistol in a cordura holster at his hip. Georgeson had two laser pistols in tanker-style shoulder holsters underneath his coat and Cooper was armed with a disruptor in a special snap holster on one hip and a curious weapon that was regarded by most of his contemporaries as being out of date, though the Ranger leader seldom went anywhere without it. It was an antique, late 20th century. Israeli Desert Eagle semiautomatic finished in matte black and originally chambered in .44 Magnum. It was a massive piece, almost as large as the disruptor that he carried, weighing almost four pounds, with a ten-inch barrel. It had been specially adapted to fire rocket-powered, explosive 10 mm. rounds, with enough power to flatten an elephant, and it was equipped with a specially made silencer and flash suppressor that extended its barrel another four inches. In addition to the sidearms, all three men carried fighting knives and wire garrotes, several throwing knives concealed about their persons and a number of small fragmentation grenades hidden in their pockets. They had also brought equipment bags containing additional assault gear.

"I wish I could tell you what you can expect." Delaney told them, "but given the temporal instability we've got here, it's liable to be anything. The one thing you've got to do is maintain a secure transition point for bringing in your troops in case it hits the fan."

"This room won't make it." Cooper said. "It's too damn small. Can we use the roof?"

"I don't see why not." Delaney replied. "That's a good idea. I should have thought of that."

"Sounds like you've got enough to worry about," said Cooper. "Tilley. get up to the roof and lock in the transition coordinates. then set up an observation post. If a horse fans out there on the street. I want to know about it. Geordy, I want you to check out the building. t can watch the front from here, but if there's a back entrance. I want it covered."

"Got it."

"What about your other baseops, at the Grand Hotel?" asked Cooper.

"Which one?" Delaney asked, with a sour grimace. "The way the timelines are rippling. I'm not even sure which universe we're in right now. Probably ours, but I wouldn't want to bet the hacienda on it. We don't want to risk covering two different places. Things are uncertain enough as they are. Our chief concern is the stability of this transition point. For all we know, your people could wind up clocking straight into the dead zone"

"Great." said Cooper, dryly. "You got any other good news for me?"

"Just this. If you don't hear from us by sunup, it means we blew it and you're in charge;

"Yeah. but what's my mission?" Cooper asked. "I'm no adjustment specialist, Delaney. I'm a strike force commander. I need a target."

“Drakov„ the Network, the S.0.6., anyone who doesn't belong in this time sector." said Delaney. "I know that's not very specific, but it's about the best I can do."

Cooper snorted with disgust. “So how the hell am I supposed to find these people? You gave me a description of Ben Stone and that O'Fallon guy who's calling himself Johnny Ringo, and I can spot Drakov if I see him, but how the fuck am I supposed to identify the others?"

“You'll have to fly this one by the seat of your pants," said Delaney.

“With any luck, you won't have to. If we survive the raid on Drakov's base of operations, whether we're able to capture him or not we'll coordinate the rest of the operation with you. If we don't make it, well, whatever you do, it probably won't make much difference. But give it your best shot. Maybe you can do something to minimize the effects of the disruption.

“It's really that bad, huh? Look, maybe we should just start bringing in the troops right now. That way, at least I can give you some cover when you go up against Drakov."

"No way," Delaney said. "Lucas doesn't want to take that chance. This time sector’s too unstable. The least little thing is liable to trigger off a timewave or maybe even a timestream split. The only one who knows for sure what's liable to happen is Darkness and he flat out refused to tell us. All we know is that something that's supposed to happen here is going to bring about a terrible temporal disaster in the future unless we can change history and we've only got one shot to make it work. But we don't know when that opportunity is going to come or what it's going to be."

“Shit. I don't envy you." said Cooper. “I don't envy me, either. What you're telling me is that if you don't make it, no matter what I do. I'll be pissing in the wind."

"Probably." Delaney replied. "But look on the bright side. If we don't make it, at least you won't be caught up in whatever's going to happen in the future."

"No, just he caught in whatever's going to happen here and now. I'm not sure which would be worse. Fuck it. It isn't over till it's over. Till then, we just dove on. Good luck, Finn."

"You too. Brian."

Delaney headed for the door. but just then. Tilley called Cooper on his communicator.

“Tilley here. We've got trouble. Colonel.” he said.

Delaney paused with his hand on the doorknob.

"What is it?" Cooper asked.

"I've got two men on the root across the street,” said Tilley."Armed and wearing black commando gear."

"Damn it." said Delaney. "It's gotta be the S.O.G.”

"They spot you. Tilley?"

“I don't think so," came the reply. "I picked them up on my starlight scope They're watching the street below and covering the front entrance.”

"Geordy, you get that?" Cooper asked.

“I got it," Georgeson said. "I'm downstairs, by the back stairway, covering the back entrance. You want me to check outside?"

"Negative." said Cooper. "Stay put. Tilley—"

“Hold it." Tilley said, “I've got activity. Two men heading this way from the southeast. One of them answers Stone's description, the other one's dressed like a cowboy. Hold on. I'll see if I can . . . there's movement in the alley, heading toward the back! Heads up, Geordy!"

"Shit!" Delaney swore, throwing open the door and drawing his revolver.

"Cover the front!" Cooper shouted to him. Then he spoke quickly into his communicator. “Tilley. watch your back, they may clock up to the roof!"

Cooper drew his disruptor and moved to the window as Delaney ran out into the hall and down the stairs.

"Finn should have been back by now," said Lucas, tensely.

“You think maybe something happened?" Andre asked.

Lucas exhaled heavily. "We're not going to find out waiting around here." He got up, tossed down the whiskey he'd been drinking, picked up his laser rig and strapped it on underneath his coat.

"Be interesting if Wyatt Earp catches you wearing that in town." said Andre.

Lucas grimaced. “I’ll tell him it's a fancy Buntline Special,” he said. "And then I'll hit him over the head with it."

Andre got up and started heading toward the door. "You're right, we'd better go check on him."

"Aren't you bringing anything?" asked Lucas.

"Hey, you know me. I always pack." she said, lifting her long skirt. Beneath it, she wore high-button shoes and black lycra tights There was a laser pistol in a holster strapped to her right thigh and a commando bowie in a sheath strapped around her left leg.

"Interesting outfit," Lucas said, with a grin. "What else you got hidden under there?"

"You'll find out on our wedding night." she replied.

"Cute."

“Come on, greenhorn. Let's go find that crazy Irishman."

They went down the stairs and out the front door.

"Here they come.” said one of the snipers on the roof of Hafford's Saloon, across the street. He rested his rifle and chambered a round.

“About damn time." one of the others replied. "Let's finish this.”

"The girl, too?"

"Yeah, the girl, too. That's what Ringo said, ain't it?"

"I don't like shootin’ a woman."

"You want to take it up with Ringo?"

"Hell, no."

"Then let 'em have it!"

As they stepped down off the sidewalk, Andre stumbled.

"Damn heels!" she swore. A shot cracked out and a bullet struck the wood post behind her. More shots followed in rapid succession.

" Shit!" cried Lucas. "It's an ambush! Come on!"

They started running.

Up on the roof, the riflemen suddenly stopped shooting.

"What in the hell ." one of them said. staring down at the street.

"Where'd they go?"

"Shoot, God damn it!"

"At what?"

"Son of a bitch! Where in hell did they go?"

"I don't know! One minute there they were, and then they were Just . . . gone!"

"Check the street, for God's sake! They gotta be down there somewhere!"

"Where? We can see the whole blamed street from here! They plumb vanished!"

“I'm gettin' outta here."

"Wait . . .

"You wait! I ain't stickin' around for the Earps to come and see what all the shootin' was about."

"Heck, me neither!"

"I just can't understand it. We had ‘em right in our sights! Where the hell did they go?"

Lucas and Andre suddenly stopped short.

"Holy shit," said Lucas.

One moment, they'd been running down a dark street in the middle of the night, with bullets whistling past them. Suddenly, the shooting had stopped and it was broad daylight, around two or three in the afternoon.

“We've crossed over!' Andre said, looking all around her. They were about half a block away from the Grand Hotel. Nothing looked different, except that in a matter of a few steps, they had moved from night into day, from one timeline into another.

"We've got to go back." said Andre.

"And get our asses shot off?" Lucas said. "Besides, how do we know if we can go back?"

"You're hit!" Andre exclaimed, seeing the blood on his shoulder.

Lucas shook his head. "It's just a flesh wound. I'm all right."

"Damn," said Andre. "What happens now?"

"Shit," said Lucas, looking down the street. “I’m afraid I know."

She followed his gaze. Wyatt. Virgil and Morgan Earp, together with Doc Holliday, had just stepped off the sidewalk on Hafford's Corner. Virgil Earp was carrying a cane in his right hand. Doc Holliday held a shotgun in one hand and his nickel-plated Colt in the other. Morgan Earp held a six-gun at his side. They started walking north on Fourth Street, heading across it diagonally toward Fremont Street. And with them was the Montana Kid.

Jenny ran down Fourth Street, past Hafford's Corner and Spangenberg's Gun Shop, heading toward Fremont. The Aztec Rooming House, where Finn Delaney lived, was on the corner of Fremont and Third. She held her skirts up as she ran, past the Post Office and around ,The corner of the Capitol Saloon. Turning left on Fremont. She ran past the Papago Cash Store and Bauer's Meat Market, with the alley between it that led to the back entrance of the O.K. Corral, which fronted on Allen Street. She passed the Assay Office and Fly's Boarding House, past the vacant lot between Fly's Boarding House and Photo Studio and the Harwood house, and she was almost to the corner of Third and Fremont when she heard the shots.

She stopped short, breathing hard. Her heart was hammering in her chest like a wild thing trying to claw its way out. She heard gunfire, but she also saw strange flashes of light, incredibly bright, thin beams lancing out across the street, from one rooftop to the other. Lasers, she thought. Like the weapons that the Master used. She was too late. It had already started. She turned and started running back the other way. All she could think of now was Scott, and Wyatt Earp was on his way to arrest him. Running as fast as she possibly could, she raced back down Fourth Street, heading toward the hotel. Somehow, she had to keep Wyatt from arresting Scott. Scott’s friends were in trouble and they needed him.

She stopped as she passed Spangenberg's Gun Store. She ran up onto the sidewalk and snatched up one of the wooden chairs George Spangenberg kept outside the shop, so that he and his customers could sit around and chew tobacco and pass the time of day as they watched the street. She grunted and swung the chair with all her might, smashing through the front display window of the store. She had to pull the chair out and smash it through again to make the hole big enough, then she climbed through, tearing her skirt on the jagged shards of glass and cutting herself in several places. She ignored the pain. She climbed into the store and ran around behind the glass display counters. George had locked them. With a small cry of frustration, she quickly looked around, picked up one of Spangenberg's hardbound account books and used it to break through the glass.

She reached inside the case and took out a Peacemaker with a seven-and-ahalf-inch barrel and wood grips. She quickly glanced at the barrel. Engraved on the left side were the words, "Colt Single Action .45." She'd need .45 caliber cartridges. She opened up one of the wood cabinets and took out a box of ammunition, opened it and quickly loaded all six chambers. Then she climbed back out through the window, catching her skirt on the broken glass. With a desperate yank, she pulled free, ripping the dress and. carrying the gun in her right hand, ran toward Allen Street, past several astonished cowboys who were coming out of Hafford's Saloon.

They gaped at her open-mouthed as she ran past them, her hair wild, blood on her arms and cheeks, her dress torn in several places, and a gun in her right hand. Just as she turned the corner, she saw Wyatt and Scott coming out of the hotel. Wyatt with a gun in one hand and Scott's pistols, in their shoulder holster rig, carried in the other. As they stepped down onto the street, Jenny came to a stop and raised the Colt, holding it in both hands.

"Hold it right there. Wyatt!" she shouted.

Scott looked at her, eyes wide. "Jenny!"

Wyatt was equally surprised. "Good Lord," he said. "Jenny, have you lost your head?"

"You let him go!" she shouted. "You give him back his pistols and let him go right now!"

"Jenny, don't—" Scott started, but Wyatt silenced him.

"You keep your mouth shut. Kid," he said, "and don't you move."

"Let him go, Wyatt!" Jenny said, aiming the gun at him.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Jenny," Earp replied. "Now put down that pistol before somebody gets hurt."

She pulled back the hammer on the Colt. "No, you drop yours. Wyatt! Drop it or I'll shoot, so help me!"

People were peering out through the doors of the saloon and from the hotel windows, ready to duck back quickly if bullets started flying.

"Now be sensible, Jenny. If you don't put down that pistol right now. I'll be forced to shoot the Kid," said Wyatt, aiming his revolver at Scott's back.

"You do that and I'll kill you, Wyatt. I swear to God!"

"You're no shootist, Jenny. You're liable to miss."

"Then I'll just keep shooting till I hit you, Wyatt, and you'll have to kill me. too! I don't care! If Scott dies, I don't want to live!"

"You're talkin' crazy, Jenny. Don't—"

" Now, Wyatt! Drop it and let him go right now or I'll shoot, so help me!"

"By God, I think she means it," Wyatt said. "Kid, talk some sense to her. Tell her this is foolish."

"Scott. Finn's in trouble!" she shouted. "He needs you, right now!"

"Better do as she says. Marshal." Scott said, tensing.

Wyatt sighed and shook his head. "You'll both regret this. Kid," he said. He dropped his gun to the street.

“I’ll take my guns. Marshal," Scott said, holding out his hand.

Wyatt Earp handed them over. Scott shrugged out of his coat and quickly slipped the rig on. He took out one of the fancy Colts.

“I'm sorry about this. Marshal." he said, "but I haven't got time to explain and I can't have you in the way."

He raised the gun and brought the barrel down on Wyatt's head. Earp collapsed to the street. Scott ran over to Jenny.

"You're amazing, you know that? Where's Finn?"

"At the rooming house," she said. "I heard shots and there were lasers—"

"Shit," said Scott. "Stay here!"

He took off down Fourth Street at a dead run. Jenny hesitated for a moment, then started running after him.

"What the hell is Scott doing with them?" Andre said. "Maybe that isn't Scott." said Lucas. “At least, not our Scott.”

"It has to be," she said. "We just crossed over. Scott! Wait!" The Kid glanced over his shoulder at them briefly, then turned back and kept on walking.

“It's not him," said Lucas.

Andre shook her head. "But how . . .

"I don't know!" said Lucas. "Maybe we've crossed over again without knowing it. Maybe we're caught in some kind of ripple effect, a timewave. The instability's increasing. Jesus. This is it!"

"How do you know?"

"It's got to be! In this timeline, the Montana Kid was part of the shootout at the O.K. Corral. In our timeline, he wasn't even there. Until now. We were right. Scott has to be the key! Come on!"

"What are we going to do?"

"Hell if I know." Lucas said, as they started running after the Earps.

"We'll have to wait for Darkness."

'What if he doesn't show?"

"Then we're Fucked. “

Delaney reached the bottom of the stairs just as Stone and Capiletti came through the front door. Stone leaped to one side as Capiletti went for his sidearm. Finn fired, the loud report of the .45 filling the lobby. The clerk cried out in alarm and dropped down behind his desk as Capiletti fell, a bullet through his chest. Finn ducked back as Stone fired his laser and the beam passed inches from his face. He filed again and missed.

He swore through clenched teeth. A Colt .45 against a laser. Terrific odds. And he only had four bullets left. Two men dressed in black commando gear came diving through the front door. Delaney fired, wounding one of them, then felt a wash of searing heat go past him as the plasma charge narrowly missed him and struck the wall, igniting it. He fired again and missed the third man diving through the door, then darted up the stairs as a second plasma charge was fired, barely missing him and starting another fire as it struck the wall. His clothes were smoldering.

"Get him, dammit!" he heard Stone yell, and then he ducked around the stair post and snapped off another shot, dropping the man who'd fired the first two plasma rounds.

"They're in, Geordy!" he shouted. "Watch it!"

He started running up the stairs. One bullet left. And no time to reload.

"Delaney! "

Cooper was above him on the landing. He tossed down the disruptor. Finn dropped the Colt and caught it, then heard the boom of Cooper's Desert Eagle. He felt something whoosh past his ear and then there was an explosion behind him as the round struck one of the S.0.G. commandos in the chest and ignited. spattering the walls with blood and mangled flesh.

Downstairs, at the back entrance, Georgeson was knocked off his feet as the door exploded inward and the S.O.G. commandos came rushing through. He fired both his lasers from the floor and dropped the first man through the door, then was struck twice by laser fire from the men behind him. He fired again. dropping one more assailant, took another laser hit, but kept on firing, killing the last man through the door. He staggered to his feet, badly wounded, a hole through the side of his face, and several more through his chest and shoulder. He gasped for breath and fell to his knees as one lung collapsed, then looked up and saw Ben Stone coming through the smoke and flames. He raised his lasers, but he wasn't quick enough. Stone fired. The heavy 45 caliber slug smashed into Georgeson's forehead and exited through the other side, taking a bloody lump of bone and br ain wi t h it. The Ranger w as hurled backwards by the impact, and he was dead before he hit the floor.

Upstairs. Tilley was engaged in a furious crossfire with the men on the roof across the way. He couldn't use his plasma rifle, for fear of setting the building across the street on fire. The desk clerk, oblivious to the laser beams flashing back and forth above him, ran out into the street, screaming. “Fire! Fire!”

Boarders in the morning house were dashing down the stairs and out the back, paying no attention to the bodies they tripped over as they stumbled out through the smoke and flames on the first floor. Cooper came out onto the roof just as two of the S.O.G. commandos materialized behind Tilley. He fired twice, the explosive rounds slamming into his targets and making bloody salsa out of them, then dropped to the roof as Tilley spun around and yelled, " DOWN!"

Tilley fired over him, taking out one more commando who had clocked in behind Cooper, but not before he took a laser hit in the chest. He cried out and slumped over, grimacing with pain. Cooper started to get up, but a laser beam coming from across the street grazed his temple and he cried out, dropping back down, a smoking furrow in his hair.

“Son of a bitch! Tilley, you okay'?"

"Don't know . . . damn, it hurts. . . ."

“Hang on, I'll get those bastards!"

Cooper quickly programmed his disc for the leap to the roof across the street. He could only guess wildly at the distance and the height, but there was no other choice. He programmed in his estimate and clocked.

He appeared about three feet above them . . . over the edge of the roof, with nothing but empty space below him.

" Aw, fuck!" he shouted.

As he fell, he fired five times in rapid succession, saw the bullets strike their targets and explode on impact, then the ground came up and he fell the bonejarring impact and heard a loud snap as he struck.

The stairwell was full of smoke. Ben Stone coughed and squinted, trying to see through it. He heard something and fired at the sound. A man cried out and Stone saw a disruptor come clattering down the stairs. He grinned.

"Got you, you bastard!" he said, triumphantly.

He bent down to pick up the weapon and then suddenly a figure came flying through the air, directly at him. Delaney hit him and both men tumbled down the stairs. Delaney scrambled to his feet, trying to ignore the pain of the smashed bone in his elbow. He pulled his knife out its sheath and raised it, then saw that Stone was lying motionless on the smoke-filled landing, his neck at a crazy angle. He was dead.

Delaney bent over him and found his warp disc. Coughing from the smoke and grunting with pain, he programmed it for non-specific time and clocked Stone's body to the dead zone. Then he retrieved his disruptor and moved back to the first floor.

Tilley crawled to the edge of the roof and looked over. There was no more laser fire coming from the other side. He heard someone groaning in the street below and looked down to see Cooper lying there, sprawled on his back, his weapon on the ground beside him. He heard movement behind him and spun around—

"Easy. Tilley!" said Delaney.

With a sigh of relief. Tilley lowered his weapon. "We get 'em all?"

"I think so," said Delaney. "I clocked out the bodies. Geordy didn't make it."

"Shit . . ." said Tilley.

"How bad are you hit?"

"Don't know . . .

"Where's Cooper?"

"Down there." said Tilley, jerking his head toward the street below.

Delaney looked over the side. There was shouting in the street and the distant sound of bells as the fire brigade approached. Cooper was trying to crawl toward where his gun lay in the street.

"Damn," Delaney swore, “Tilley get out of here. Clock back to Plus Time."

"What about—“

"Forget it. We've lost our transition point. Tell the strike force to stand by. Nobody moves till we send word. Now go!"

"Got it."

Tilley reached for his warp disc and clocked out. Delaney ran back down the stairs and tumbled through the smoke and out the back door. He ran down the alleyway out to the street. People were converging on the rooming house, carrying buckets of water. Delaney ran over to Cooper, who'd just managed to retrieve his gun.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," grimaced Cooper, groaning through his teeth. "Misjudged the distance slightly . . . Peter Pan I ain't. Broke both my damn legs. . . ."

"Come on, we're clocking you out. . . ."

"What about Tilley?"

"He's clocked out already. I think he’ll make it."

"Geordy?"

"Dead,” said Finn. "But he got ‘em all."

"Son of a bitch." said Cooper, gasping.

Delaney fumbled for Cooper's warp disc.

"It's okay, I got it," Cooper said, "The bodies?"

"I clocked 'em out."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Get your legs fixed. Everything's on hold until we get a new transition point. Meanwhile, I've got to find the others. Now get out of here!"

"But we got the bastards, didn't we?"

"Yeah, you got ‘em. Now go!"

"Give 'em hell, Delaney. . . ."

Cooper activated his disc and clocked out.

Delaney got his feet and suddenly noticed that it was daylight. Startled, he turned back towards the rooming house. A second earlier, it had been dark and smoke was pouring from the windows. Men were shouting and running in the street, bells were clanging. . . . Now, suddenly, it was broad daylight and the fire had been put out. There were several people standing in the street, looking at the damage. A wagon passed him going one way, two riders walking their horses passed heading in the opposite direction. The sun was high in the sky.

"God damn . . ." Delaney said. "What the hell . . . ?"

Suddenly, it hit him.

" Timewave!"

He checked the readout on his warp disc. It was a little after two o'clock. The date was October 26, 1881. And to his right, just turning the corner of Fourth and Fremont Streets, were Virgil, Wyatt and Morgan Earp, together with Doc Holliday.

Nikolai Drakov appeared in the alley between Fly's Boarding House and the Assay Office. He had a small case in his left hand. He turned right down the short passageway leading to the porch between Fly's Photo Studio and the boarding house. So far, everything was going according to plan From the porch, he could look out into the vacant lot between Fly's establishment and the Harwood house. Standing together in the empty lot were Ike Clanton, his brother, Billy, Tom and Frank McLaury and, slightly behind them, their friend. Billy Claiborne. And, just turning the corner of the boarding house were Virgil and Wyatt Earp, followed by Morgan Earp and Doc Holliday. Virgil was carrying a cane in his right hand. Morgan had his gun out. Holliday was carrying a shotgun in one hand and his pistol in the other.

Drakov opened the case and took out a scoped, stainless steel Colt Python with an eight-inch barrel and black neoprene combat grips. Not as sophisticated as a laser or a plasma gun, but just as effective and, in some ways, more reliable. He kneeled and took a rest position, sighting through the pistol scope. He smiled in anticipation.

Amazing that after everything that happened, it would all come down to just one shot. A mere one hundred and fifty-eight grain, copper-jacketed, hollow-point bullet, no bigger than a dime, would accomplish what even nuclear weapons had failed to do. And he would have his revenge at last

The future would cease to be. Just one shot, its report masked by the gunfire that would shortly erupt in what was no more than an insignificant blood feud, and everything would change. Universes would shift, setting off a timewave that would travel down the timestream, building in intensity. altering events . .

. and in the course of those events that would be altered, Moses Forrester would never be horn. He would never live to meet and fall in love with the Russian gypsy girl named Vanna Drakova. She would be spared the torment she had suffered and he, Nikolai Drakov, would never have lived. Sweet oblivion awaited him.

He wondered what would happen the moment he fired the fatal shot. Would he immediately cease to exist? Would there be pain? Or would he suddenly just be gone

. . . because from the moment of his action, he would never have existed in the first place?

He would be gone but his enemies who survived would suffer the knowledge of their failure. They would return to a future that had changed, a time that was unraveling, to find that their commander. Moses Forrester, had never lived. would they remember? Drakov sincerely hoped so. For if they did, there would be nothing they could do about it. Once the act was done, any attempt on their part to change it would only change the future once again, with consequences that could be even worse in their own time. Further down the timestream, long after they were dead, the cataclysm would occur. They wouldn't be around to see it, nor would he. But it didn't really matter. He would have won. He would have destroyed his father, beaten his enemies, wiped out his own tortured existence and brought about an end to all of time with no more than a slight motion of his finger on the trigger. One shot. The ultimate solution.

He felt an almost sexual thrill of anticipation surge through him. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. His palms were sweating. He wiped them on his trousers. Just one more moment . . .

Scott came running around the corner of Fourth and Fremont and came to a dead stop. Suddenly, it was daylight. For a moment, he was totally disoriented. And then, just ahead of him, he saw Wyatt Earp, his brothers, Virgil and Morgan. and Doc Holliday walking down the street, heading for the vacant lot between Fly's Boarding House and Harwood's place. Just beyond them, he could see Ike Clanton, Billy Clanton, and Tom and Frank McLaury lined up in a row and facing them.

The famous shoot-out.

As if mesmerized, he started to move forward.

He heard Virgil Earp call out, "Boys, throw up your hands! I want your guns!"

The two parties were perhaps six feet apart.

Young Billy Clanton yelled out, "Don't shoot me! I don't want to fight!"

Tom McLaury said. "I haven't got anything, boys. I am disarmed." He moved his hands up to his coat and started to open it.

Virgil called out sharply, "Hold on! I don't mean that!"

And as Virgil shouted, Jenny came running around the corner, saw Scott moving toward the men as if hypnotized and . .

Lucas and Andre rounded the corner where the Capitol Saloon stood and suddenly everything seemed to shift into slow motion. It felt as if they were moving against some sort of invisible resistance, the current of the timeflow itself pushing against them. They saw Jenny running just ahead of them and it looked as if she were running underwater, bounding in slow motion, her hair gently rising and falling behind her as she ran toward the men ahead of her, Wyatt, Virgil and Morgan Earp, Doc Holliday and Scott, all standing abreast and facing the Clanton and the McLaury brothers. They heard her call out, as if from the bottom of a well, and her words sounded slow and drawn out, like a record being played at the wrong speed as she shouted. "Scoooot . . . . . . . noooooooo!"

With agonizing slowness. Scott and Wyatt both turned around and, at the same time, three shots cracked out, their reports sounding like echoes in a cave. Like feathers floating on the wind, both Wyatt and Scott started to crumple to the ground. . .

In the next instant, with the suddenness of an earthquake, everything speeded up to normal and Lucas and Andre. straining against the invisible force that seemed to be holding them back, were thrown violently forward, as if shoved hard from behind. They both fell sprawling to the ground, hitting hard, Stunned. Lucas raised his head and saw Jenny running just ahead of them, moving with normal speed, and beyond her, moving toward the Earps and Holliday as if he were spellbound, was Scott. It was almost an exact replay of the scene they had just witnessed a split second earlier. A short distance past the Harwood place. standing in the middle of the street across from the Aztec Rooming House, they saw Finn Delaney. The Earps, Holliday, the Clantons and the McLaurys were already standing in the vacant lot. Scott was a short distance behind them, almost to the corner of Fly's Boarding House and well out of the center of the street. And there was nothing standing in between Jenny, running toward the combatants, and Finn Delaney, standing in the middle of the street, on the far side of Third. And, as he watched, Lucas suddenly saw Dr. Darkness appear out of nowhere, standing at Finn Delaney's side.

Andre started to get up . and Lucas saw it all in a flash of realization.

" No! Stay down!" He threw, himself on top of her.

Delaney watched the men turn into the vacant lot between Fly's and Harwood's and then he saw Scott come running around the corner. As he passed the Capitol Saloon, Scott stopped and simply stood there for a moment, looking disoriented, then he started moving with a sort of odd gait, heading off to the side of the street, past Bauer's Meat Market and the Assay Office, moving toward Fly's Boarding House. . .

Delaney caught his breath. "Oh. no...." he said. “No, kid, don't do it. . ."

Jenny came running around the corner, as fast as she could, hard on Scott's heels. Then, just behind her, Lucas and Andre appeared as if out of nowhere, tumbling forward into the street. Christ, this is it, thought Delaney, raising his disruptor. He couldn't wait for Darkness. He'd have to kill Neilson before he interfered. . . .

"The girl, Delaney!" said Darkness, suddenly materializing at his side.

"Shoot the girl!”

Without pausing to think. Finn shifted his aim and fired the disruptor on tight beam. As Jenny opened her mouth to call out, she was suddenly wreathed in the bright blue glow of Cherenkov radiation. An instant later, she was gone, her atoms disintegrated.

And so was Darkness.

Two shots cracked out. And then all hell broke loose.

Simultaneously, Finn Delaney, Lucas Priest, Andre Cross and Scott Neilson all seemed to hear a deafening roaring in their ears, as if an entire ocean were being sucked away, and then there was nothing but the sound of gunfire from the lot, an entire fusillade of shots, one right after the other, and the street became filled with gunsmoke.

Drakov had Finn Delaney square in the crosshairs of his pistol scope. He thumbed back the hammer, put his finger on the trigger and . . . a blackthorn walking stick came down on the gun and knocked it aside. The shot went wild. Startled, Drakov looked up to see a gaunt man in an Inverness tweed coat looming over him, stick raised for another blow. Before he could throw up his arm to ward it off, the stick came down and Drakov collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

Darkness exhaled heavily. "I'll be damned." he said. "It worked."

CONCLUSION

They all sat in Moses Forrester's private quarters in the TAC-HQ building, thinking twelve-year-old Scotch. Andre. Finn and Lucas sat together on the couch, their drinks on the coffee table in front of them. Forrester sat across from them, in his favorite chair, smoking one of his deep-bowled pipes. Scott Neilson stood by the window, silently staring out at the glittering lights below.

"We all thought it was Scott." Lucas was saying. "We believed he was the key. And, in a way, he was. In the other universe, he . . . or his twin . . lived about eight hundred years ago and he really was the Montana Kid, a famous gunfighter. In the other timeline, the Montana Kid was at the shoot-out at the O.K. Corral, which did not, in fact, take place at the O.K. Corral, but in the vacant lot a short distance from the alley that led to its back entrance. I guess

'The Shoot-out in the Vacant Lot Between Fly's and Harwood's' didn't sound as glamorous as 'The Shoot-out at the O.K. Corral.' It didn't really happen there, but it became part of the myth."

"And in the other timeline, both Wyatt Earp and the Montana Kid died in the shootout?" asked Forrester.

Lucas nodded. "That's what we saw. Jenny had a twin in the other universe, as well. Actually, there never was a Jenny Reilly in our universe. Not until Drakov put her there, in an effort to match what happened in the other timeline. What we first saw, as near as I can figure it, were the events that happened in the parallel timeline, only we'd been caught in a concentrated area of temporal instability, hallway between the two, in the act of crossing over. It was at that exact point that temporal inertia in both timelines reached its strongest surge, creating a sort of temporal whirlpool in which we became caught briefly. What we were seeing were the events that were happening in the other timeline, at the same exact instant as they were happening in our timeline, only we were caught in a sort of temporal lag."

"So when you finally broke free and crossed over, you saw those same events replayed an instant later, in our timeline," said Forrester.

"That's right." said Lucas, "In the other timeline. Jenny came running up to Scott and called out his name, because she was afraid he was going to get shot. Both Scott and Wyatt turned around and, in that instant, the shooting started There were three shots. I'm not sure who fired them—"

"Doc Holliday fired first," said Scott, still standing by the window. He had a faraway look in his eyes. "Virgil didn't want a fight, but Doc wanted it all along. And so did Morgan. There was a lot of bad blood between the two parties and Doc was still angry over the attempt to frame him for that stagecoach robbery and King's escape from jail. Morgan was as hot-blooded as Holliday and they were both close friends. They wanted to finish it right then and there. A lot of people thought that when Virgil yelled out. 'Hold on. I don't mean that!' he was shouting at Billy Clanton and Frank McLaury, who supposedly went for their guns. Only he was really calling out to Doc and Morgan, because be heard them both cocking their weapons. Maybe Tom McLaury opening his coat to show he was unarmed was what set it off. Maybe Doc just had enough and felt like finishing it. Either way. Doc fired first, shooting Frank McLaury in the stomach, and Morgan fired a split second later, at Billy Clanton. But there were only two shots right at the beginning, not three."

“In the other universe, there were three," said Lucas. “There was somebody firing from cover on the porch between Fly's Boarding House and the Photo Studio. It could have been Johnny Behan. But when Jenny called out, Wyatt and the Montana Kid both turned around. Somebody fired first, maybe Holliday, and then the next two bullets got Wyatt and Scott. So, in the other universe, both Wyatt and the Kid died in the shoot-out."

“Drakov was trying to match the events in our universe to what happened in the parallel timeline,” Andre said. "As Darkness explained it to us later, the temporal confluence at that point was so strong that it could have gone one way or the other. The instability had reached the breaking point. If the exact same thing happened in each timeline at the exact same space and time, with the powerful confluence effect focused on that specific point, both timelines would have come together and the force of the temporal inertia in both timelines would have created a massive timewave that would have traveled down the timestream, building in intensity, disrupting history all the way down the line, until . ."

"Until what?" asked Forrester.

"Who knows?" said Lucas, with a shrug. "Darkness wouldn't tell us. A massive timestream split? A chain reaction? Ultimate entropy'?" He sighed. “Frankly. I'm not even sure I want to know."

"So then Jenny Reilly was the key,” said Forester.

"In a way, she was," said Lucas, but in another way, it was Scott. If she hadn't fallen in love with him . . . but then, that was probably what she'd been programmed to do by Drakov, who kept manipulating her, keeping her off-balance and never letting her know what her real purpose was. He needed her emotions to be in turmoil, so she'd be driven to do what he meant for her to do. After she pulled a gun on Wyatt Earn and rescued Scott. Wyatt had to figure Scott had crossed over the line and had chosen to become an outlaw. When, in our, timeline. Jenny saw Scott moving toward the scene of the gunfight, she was going to call out his name, just as the other Jenny had in the parallel universe. Wyatt would have heard it and, maybe thinking Scott was about to shoot him, he would have turned around just as Doc and Morgan fired and then Billy Clanton would have shot him in the back.”

"And that would have been the third shot," said Forrester.

"No." said Lucas. "The third shot would have been Drakov's. When he shot Finn, to keep him from killing Jenny before she could call out Scott's name."

"Why didn't he just shoot Wyatt Earp?" asked Forrester.

"And lose the chance to kill at least one of us before he ceased to exist?" Delaney said. He shook his head. "He couldn't pass up that opportunity. He knew Billy Clanton was quick with a gun and a good shot. The only reason Wyatt wasn't hit was because he shot Billy in the wrist as he was drawing, a second after Morgan shot him in the chest. And after he shot Delaney. Drakov would still have had the time to make sure of Wyatt with his second shot and Scott with his third, in the event the others missed them."

"Darkness knew about the temporal instability and the surge in temporal inertia that was going to take place right at that point and he wasn't sure if his unstable subatomic structure would maintain its integrity or not." said Andre. "He didn't want to warn us specifically about what was going to happen because he wasn't sure if that would influence our actions and affect the outcome. It all had to be done at the last minute and he had just one shot at it. Even then, it was a gamble. He didn't know if he'd survive it. If he'd been caught in the same temporal vortex as me and Lucas, he may have discorporated."

He also knew that everything depended on my immediate response." said Delaney, "because he'd essentially have to be in two places at the same time, and even at faster-than-light speed, that's quite a trick. He knew he had a chance to tell me to shoot the girl, to keep her from distracting Wyatt at the last possible instant, and he knew that if I reacted immediately, he could stop Drakov from firing more than one shpt. But he didn't know if he could stop him from firing that first shot. He was gambling that on seeing me, Drakov would immediately try to shoot me first, instead of Wyatt. He wasn't sure if he'd have a chance to save my life by taching to where Drakov was and deflecting his shot at the last possible second. Even traveling at faster-than-light speed, he had to play it close, so that the temporal inertia in both timestreams would be at its strongest surge and then, when the events in both timelines did not match up, the strength of that surge forced them apart, once and for all. Without him, it never would have happened. But thanks to him, the Temporal Crisis is over. Darkness changed the past and saved the future."

"Only Jenny had to die," said Scott.

Delaney looked at him with pain written on his features. "I'm sorry, Scott. I had no other choice."

Neilson nodded. “I understand. And I'm not blaming you. But that still doesn't make her death any easier to bear. I loved her."

"Yeah kid," said Delaney, softly. "I know."

“So Drakov had it all planned out in advance," said Forrester.

"That's right." said Lucas. "He knew about it because he had done the one thing no one else had ever done before. Not even the Network, because it was so risky. He clocked ahead to the future. He clocked ahead far enough to study the history of the Temporal Crisis and he found out about what happened in the Tombstone scenario. Then he clocked back there, located the crossover points, established the scenario in each timeline and set out to try and make them match exactly, so that the temporal currents would flow together instead of being forced apart. And, apparently, from the standpoint of the future Darkness came from, he succeeded. Darkness had to come back and try to stop him.”

"Amazing," Forrester said.

"The one thing Darkness never did explain was how he knew that Drakov would cease to exist if he succeeded." Andre said. “Apparently, somehow, the result of what he did would affect your life, sir."

Forrester nodded. “Indeed, it would have," he said. He got up and went to the secret panel that led into his private sanctum. He opened it, went in, and came out a moment later, carrying a framed photograph in his hand.

"Wyatt Earp had a daughter." he said.

"That's impossible." said Scott. "Wyatt and Josie never had any children."

"No. not Wyatt and Josie," Forrester replied. “Wyatt and Nadine McCain. A prostitute he met in Gunnison. Colorado, after he left Arizona. As far as I know, he was only with her once, but he left her pregnant and she gave birth to a daughter that he never knew." He held up the old, faded photograph in the silver frame. "Angie McCain. Who grew up and married a silver miner named Michael Forrester. She was my great, great, great, great, grandmother."

“I’ll be damned!" Delaney said.

"Then you knew you were descended from Wyatt Earp?" said Andre, stunned.

“Why, the hell didn't you tell us?"

"For the same reason Darkness didn't," Forrester replied. "I was afraid it would affect your actions. I couldn't afford to take that chance, no matter how things turned out."

"Well, thank God, they turned out all right," said Lucas.

"Cooper's Rangers went in afterward and picked up the Network men. And we were able to bring Drakov back alive for interrogation and he revealed the location of all his clones and hominoids. What's going to happen to them?"

"They won't be harmed." said Forester. "The mutations, of course, we have no choice but to eliminate. And that will be doing the poor brutes a kindness. As for the others, and my son's own clones, they'll be conditioned, then temporally relocated and allowed to live out normal lives. Most of his clones we were able to pick up while they were still children. A few we got as adults, after they'd already been programmed with his mental engrams. Those will require therapy conditioning. They'll be placed in different modern time sectors, where they'll never run into each other and where their increased lifespan won't make them freaks. As for my son himself . ."

"I hear he's going to be all right," said Lucas, gently. "They say that they can rehabilitate him."

Forester nodded. "The results are already beginning to show." he said. "I went to see him in the hospital this morning. He called me 'Father.' Then he broke down and cried."

Forrester had to turn away for a moment. He cleared his throat.

"Well, it seems as if promotions and decorations are in order," he said. "I thought about making it a formal ceremony, but I know how you feel about such things. . ." He produced small boxes with new insignia in them and passed them out. "And I thought, Lucas, that you might want to wear your stars at your wedding."

"My stars?" said Lucas, staring at the little box with disbelief.

"Congratulations." Forester said. "Andre, looks like you're going to be marrying a general."

"But . . . but . . ." Lucas stammered.

"I'll need someone to take over for me as Director," Forester said. "I'm retiring. My son is going to need me when he gets well and I want to spend some time with him. Maybe give him a chance to get back something of the life he never had."

"But . . . Director?" Lucas said. “Me?"

"I couldn't think of a better man," said Forester. "Don't you agree, Colonel Delaney?"

"Yes, sir!" Delaney said, with a wide grin.

"Major Cross, congratulations." Forrester said, kissing her on the cheek. "I wish you both all the happiness in the world."

"Thank you, sir."

He turned around, "Lieutenant Neilson?"

He handed him the box with the new insignia, and then took another box out of his pocket.

"The President is supposed to make the formal presentation, so you'll have to give this back to me," he said, "but I thought I'd make sort of an unofficial one myself. On behalf of a grateful government, I'd like to present you with the Medal of Honor."

The others stood up and applauded.

"You'll all be formally decorated with the Medal of Honor by the President," said Forrester, "just don't let him know that I've quietly usurped the privilege. I'm proud of each and every one of you.“

Scott stared at the medal and shook his head. "I . . . I don't know what to say." He looked up at Forrester. "Yes. I do. I've got something for you too, sir."

He went over by the door, where he'd put down a small cordura kit bag. He reached inside and took out a twin-shoulder holster rig, holding a matched pair of engraved and silver-plated, pearl-handled Colt Single Action Army .45's.

"For your collection, sir," he said, handing them over. "That is, if you think they're suitable."

Forrester took the guns and smiled. "I will treasure these above all the other artifacts," he said. "Thank you, Lieutenant. Thank you very much."

"I'd like to propose a toast," Delaney said. He held up his glass. "To the soon-to-be General and Mrs. Lucas Priest," he said, turning to Lucas and Andre.

"No time like the present!"

They all grinned at the old Temporal Army in-joke. "No time like the present!" they all echoed,

They drank, but one of them was thinking there was no time like the past. Scott Neilson turned and stared out the window at the lights below, but he was. seeing another time and another place. He was thinking of a beautiful young girl with long blonde hair and powder blue eyes. And of another life that might have been.

If only they had not run out of time.