“Let’s see what they want,” the Doctor sighed as he hit a switch. The shutters on the scanner screen opened, revealing a second surprise. The face on the screen belonged to Cardinal Wythe, a senior member of the High Council.

“Well, this is a surprise,” the Doctor remarked. “I rather expected Chancellor Flavia to be calling.”

Wythe’s eyes flickered. “Acting President Flavia is rather busy at the moment,” he replied tersely.

A ghost of a smile passed the Doctor’s lips but he did not reply.

“The High Council isn’t aware of this communication, Doctor,” the Cardinal then said startlingly.

“Really? You’re contacting me on your own?” The Doctor’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why?”

“The majority of the High Council believes you wouldn’t respond if they tried to contact you. So they don’t want to even bother.”

“Indeed,” the Doctor said frostily.

“I thought otherwise. You are, after all, a Time Lord, Doctor. Whatever you may say to the contrary.”

Turlough saw the Doctor stiffened visibly. This was a bit of a sore point. Despite the fact that the Doctor continually insisted that he had renounced Time Lord society, he still spent the majority of his time ensuring that Time was not interfered with or changed in any way.

“Just what is it you want?” the Doctor demanded frostily. “I’m rather busy myself, you know.”

Wythe smiled thinly. “There’s a disturbance in the vortex.”

The Doctor scowled. Why tell me? “Disturbance?”

“Yes. A temporal disturbance that’s emanating from Earth in your current time zone. Approximately three years forward of your current position in the timestream.”

“What? But…that’s impossible. There are no time experiments at this point in Earth’s history.”

“From the temporal signature, we believe it may not be a time experiment at all,” Wythe informed. “It seems to be a malfunctioning transmat that’s opened a time corridor.”

“A transmat?” This was Turlough, who realized too late that he should not have spoken.

The Doctor threw a quick glance over to his companion before turning back to the scanner screen. “That seems feasible. There are quite a few matter transmission projects going on. It’s possible one might’ve gone wrong.”

“It seems to have gone very wrong,” the Cardinal agreed.

“Can you give me the exact space/time coordinates?”

Wythe reached down and touched a button. “You should be getting them now.”

The Doctor glanced down, looking up again when Wythe said, “Doctor, I know I don’t need to impress upon you how important this is…”

“No, you don’t,” the Doctor replied astringently. “I’m to contact you when this is resolved, I take it?”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll be in touch.” With that, the transmission ended.

“Well, I never expected Wythe to be a member of the CIA,” the Doctor remarked in some surprise.

“CIA?”

The Doctor looked over at his companion and straightened. “The Celestial Intervention Agency,” he said unhelpfully. “Looks as though Tegan may have to cut her visit short after all.”

“Can’t we just leave her behind?” Turlough asked.

“Turlough!”

The young man held up his hands. “I didn’t mean it like that!” he protested. Although it’s not a bad idea. “What I meant was, why have her cut her visit short if it’s just a project gone wrong?”

“Turlough, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were being unselfish,” came the amused reply.

“I’m glad you know better.”

The Doctor grinned. “You don’t even know where we’re going.”

Turlough grunted, waving a hand in the air. “Anywhere’s better than here.”

“Don’t be so sure,” the Doctor said darkly.

“Why, where are we going?”

The Doctor met the young man’s inquiring gaze. “Moscow, 1987.”

“Not in the dead of winter, I hope.”

“No, August, by the look of it.”

“Good.” Turlough saw an odd look on the Time Lord’s face. “Where in Moscow, Doctor?”

“KGB Headquarters.”

* * *

CHAPTER TWO

“I hope everything is to your liking, Lord Gloria.”

The Earl looked around the vast hotel suite as the last of his luggage was deposited in his bedroom. He smiled, turning back to the man at the door. “Oh, yes, Mr. Romanov—” He broke off and giggled. “Forgive me. It’s just…your name…”

The man at the door gave the Earl a dark look. “I am aware of the irony, Lord Gloria. My name is a relic from the past.”

“Yes, of course. You’re a good little Communist, I’m sure, Comrade Romanov,” Eroica said breezily.

Romanov stiffened visibly but did not reply.

“Oh, this is splendid!” Eroica cooed as he looked into one of the bedrooms in his suite. “I didn’t expect such luxury.”

“We have many visitors from the West, sir,” Romanov said stiffly. “Especially now that the General Secretary in encouraging Glasnost.”

“Yes, yes, your openness policy is most—Oh!” Eroica gasped as he looked out the balcony window. “Just look at that view! It’s breathtaking!”

“You have the entire floor, sir,” Romanov informed. “You can take in the view from whichever room you choose.”

Eroica turned back and grinned. “I might just do that,” he said happily.

“Comrade Ivanov asked me to give you this.” Romanov held out a fat manila envelope. “He thought you might be interested in seeing some of the pieces that have already been photographed.”

Bonham was beside Romanov and took the envelope from his hand, crossing to the Earl.

Eroica’s eyes flickered approvingly. Very proper, Bonham. Good show.

Bonham gave a slight bow as he held out the envelope. “My lord,” he said coolly, putting on his best manservant voice.

“Thank you, Bonham. Would you see if everyone’s settled in, please?”

“Certainly, my lord.” Bonham gave another slight bow before he turned and left.

Romanov gave a slightly disapproving sniff at this display of Western class distinction. Eroica observed the man’s reaction with some amusement. He grinned and turned back to the window. “When am I to look at the real thing?” he asked conversationally.

“A car will be sent for you at nine o’clock in the morning.”

“Oh, good,” Eroica said mildly, waving a hand in the air and not bothering to turn around. “Let Bonham know for me, would you? I’d hate to oversleep.”

Romanov’s eyes opened wide. He had to fight not to object to being ordered around like a common servant. “Certainly. Good afternoon, Lord Gloria.” So saying, he turned and left, the door closing loudly behind him.

The Earl glanced back at the door. “Well, that’s you dealt with,” he muttered dismissively as he sat down. Before he could look at the contents of the envelope, there was a knock at the door. “Come in!”

The door opened and the Earl was surprise to see that it wasn’t Bonham returning, as he thought. “Why, John Paul,” he grinned. “I didn’t expect you to turn up so soon.”

“Mr. Bonham is seeing to the others, my lord,” John Paul replied. He held up a small device that Eroica recognized immediately. It was used to detect electronic surveillance devices. Obviously, John Paul wanted to check the room for bugs. “I came to make sure your room was to your liking,” he said mildly. “I know how you like everything clean and tidy.”

Eroica grinned. “I’m sure once you’re through I’ll have the cleanest room in Leningrad.”

John Paul grinned back and proceeded to check every room in the suite. Neither man was surprised when he located a listening device in every room, including the bathroom! After collecting the lot, John Paul pocketed the bugs, gave the Earl a knowing look, and left, stating that he would check all the other rooms on the floor.

“Give all the bugs you find to James,” Eroica instructed. “I’m sure he’ll be able to sell them for a tidy little sum on the black market.”

“Yes, milord, I’m sure he will.”

Now that that had been dealt with, Eroica sat back and pulled the photographs from the envelope. His enormous blue eyes grew even wider as he paged through them. “Oh…” he sighed. “Oh… Oh! Just look at you, my lovelies.”

The door to the adjoining room opened as he slowly paged through the photographs a second time. “I want you!” he sighed, clasping the papers to his chest.

James heard this last remark, came to the usual erroneous conclusion, and immediately started to whine. “Oh, my lord!”

Eroica looked up and sighed. He decided to ignore James’ usual display of jealousy and held up one of the photos. “James, you must see these.”

“No! I can’t bear another rival.”

“I think I’m the one who should be worrying about a rival this time,” Eroica replied knowingly, waving the photo. “This is an Imperial Russian Easter egg.”

“You’re looking at pictures of food?” the confused James replied.

“James, this is very probably a Fabergé egg.” Eroica groaned inwardly at the blank look this statement produced. “Peter Carl Fabergé was the one of the most famous jewelers to the Russian court. If this is one of his eggs—” He paused a beat. “—it’s priceless.”

“What!” James was suddenly beside the Earl looking from one photo to another. His eyes, well, his visible eye, grew wide. He started to breathe faster and faster.

The Earl smiled and sat back in his chair. “Mr. James, calm down before you hyperventilate.”

“Oh, my lord,” James sighed, clasping the photos to his chest. “Oh, you must change the terms. You simply must!”

“Why?”

“You said they agreed to let you choose one thing! Only one! You have to choose more!”

“They agreed to give me one of my choosing, James, dear.” Eroica gave a knowing smile. “They overlooked asking me not to steal anything.”

“Oh, my lord!” the dark-haired man cried gleefully. He clasped the Earl’s hand and started to kiss it. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Why don’t you take those in your room and do a quick tally?” Eroica suggested. “Those are only the items that have been photographed. There’s a whole warehouse, yet.”

James let out a loud squeak of delight. The Earl suspected that if his accountant died on the spot, he would die a happy man.

James was gathering up the photos just as Bonham returned. Eroica looked up and shook his head, his eyes returning to his accountant, who scurried into the next room humming happily to himself.

Bonham watched this display in some bewilderment. “What’s got ‘im all merry?”

“I gave him the photos from the warehouse,” Eroica replied. “I thought he was going to have a fit of apoplexy when he saw them.”

“’e wants you t’ steal the lot, I’ll wager,” Bonham observed as he poured the Earl a drink and handed it to him.

A small smile passed over Eroica’s lips. “I’m sure if he thought I could manage it, he’d have me steal the whole warehouse. I rather suspect that our employers might take exception to that.”

Bonham chuckled. “So it’s small ‘n valuable this time ‘round, then?”

“Yes, small and extremely valuable.” With a grin, Eroica added, “And we begin at nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”

* * *

The contents of the warehouse exceeded Eroica’s wildest expectations. Obviously, the photographs he had been given were only a tiny fraction of the wonders the building contained.

The structure was divided into sections. His team took a quick tour before they started in, one section at a time. After unpacking their own equipment, they went to work photographing and cataloging the contents of the first room.

Since the work was being done under the watchful eye of some unfriendly looking security men, everything was made to look completely proper. Well, it was completely proper. They had been hired, after all.

Any items that “appeared” damaged were brought to the Earl’s attention for his meticulous inspection. In other words, to see if it was nice enough to steal immediately. During these times, Eroica would get updates on the team’s progress. Some of the objects actually did have to be repaired, and a separate area was set up to house them. None of the guards noticed that a few of the items never made it to the holding area.

It’s like a dream come true, Eroica thought as an exquisite statue was uncrated. Every new treasure seemed better than the last. I could get used to this art expert lark.

Each day when the group left the building, they were searched. Eroica was amused at the reaction of the security guards the first time he produced the pocket dimension, which he had taken the precaution of fitting with a false lining. The man checking it actually blushed when the Earl explained that it was an antique purse that had once belonged to his paternal great-grandmother. He went on to tell how she was distantly related to one of the Czarinas.

When the pouch was returned to him, Eroica stood clinging to the increasingly embarrassed guard. He complimented his uniform and asked several intimate questions about his obviously muscular physique before volunteering to be strip-searched.

After this, the Earl was kept at arms length and asked to simply hold the seemingly empty purse open so the guard could look inside, which he obligingly did. They never would know the treasures the tiny object contained that went completely undetected each time Eroica strode from of the warehouse.

* * *

Little Hodcomb, England
July 1984

“That went surprisingly well,” the Doctor remarked as he strode into the console room, Turlough at his heels. He had expected Tegan to put up some kind of resistance to being left behind, possibly even pointing out the time the Doctor had left her at Heathrow,* which was still a bit of a sore point. But none of this had happened. Tegan was more than happy to spend more time with her Grandfather while the Doctor and Turlough went off to straighten out somebody’s “science project gone wrong.”
* Time Flight

Turlough watched as the Doctor stood silently at the computer for several minutes. He peeked over the Time Lord’s shoulder, seeing information flashing up on the screen at an impossible speed. It seemed that the Doctor was refreshing his memory on the time period in question, which he remarked on.

The Doctor gave a small satisfied grunt as he looked up, going on to set the controls. “You can’t expect me to remember every minute detail,” he remarked.

“You always seem t—” Turlough blinked. “Do you always look up the time period we’re going to?” he asked accusingly.

Rather than being embarrassed, the Doctor smiled broadly. “Top marks, Turlough.”

“That’s cheating!”

Before the Doctor could reply, the TARDIS was materializing at its destination. Turlough activated the scanner and then scowled. “Doctor…” he said cautiously, “I’m no expert on Russian architecture, but that doesn’t look even remotely like Moscow. In fact, that looks remarkably like Nelson’s column.”

“Top marks again,” the Doctor said happily.

“I thought we were going to Red Square, not Trafalgar Square.”

The Doctor reached for the door lever and stopped, looking his companion up and down. “You might want to put on a coat. It’s December.”

Turlough sighed heavily and decided not to argue. He looked at the navigational computer and caught his breath. “And it’s still 1984.” He looked up. “What’s going on?”

“Have you ever heard the name Mikhail Gorbachev?”

“Should I have?”

“He’s the number two man in the Soviet hierarchy and is meeting with Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher—”

“I’ve heard of her.”

“—to deliver a message from Konstantin Chermenko.”

“I don’t know that one, either.”

The Doctor gave an annoyed sigh. “He’s the current General Secretary of the Communist Party in the Soviet Union. The third in as many years, actually,” he added offhandedly.

“All very interesting, Doctor,” Turlough said impatiently as he took his jacket from the hatstand near the door and put on. “But what has all that to do with a malfunctioning matter transmitter in 1987?”

The Doctor gave him a dark look. “While in London,” he went on, “Mikhail and his wife, Raisa, will go sightseeing.”

“And come to Trafalgar Square?” Turlough asked, throwing a glance back at the image on the scanner.

“And go to the British Library, where, among other things, they’ll see the seat Karl Marx used when he wrote ‘Das Kapital.’”

“I’m sure there’s a point to all this…”

“I’m going to wait there so he and I can have a brief conversation before you and I go on to 1987.”

Turlough blinked. This was pretty flagrant, even for the Doctor, and he said so.

“Actually, I’ve met him once already. I’m just going to renew the acquaintance.”

“Why?”

“Because in three month’s time, Mikhail will go from the number two man in the Communist Party to number one.” The Doctor gave a knowing smile. “I had a run in or two with the KGB when I was with UNIT. It never hurts to have friends in the Kremlin when one plans to go to the Lubyanka.”

* * *

Storage Warehouse
Leningrad, Soviet Union
August 1987

It was three days after the Earl’s men started work that Mr. Ivanov finally came to see how they were progressing.

“We’ve just started on the second room,” the Earl informed.

“Excellent,” Mr. Ivanov said happily. “Your progress is amazing, Lord Gloria.”

Eroica gave a bright smile and absently twisted one of his blond curls around a finger. “I have a very good team, Mr. Ivanov.”

“That you have, sir, that you have.” Mr. Ivanov looked at the men busily packing and unpacking the artworks. After a piece was photographed and numbered, James would meticulously record it in a log. On the surface, it seemed that this was for the benefit of their employer, while in reality, it was so they would know the exact location of every valuable piece for later…appropriation.

“I have another little job for you, if you’re interested,” Ivanov said mildly, turning back to the Earl.

Eroica’s heart jumped. More Russian treasure! This is definitely a dream come true. “My goodness, you like to keep a body busy,” he remarked.

“There’s a private collection some distance from here that has never been appraised,” Ivanov informed. “One of my colleagues contacted me about it just before you arrived. He wanted the opinion of an art expert as to whether the collection has any actual value.”

“I’m not an expert in everything, you know. Especially when it comes to Russian art,” Eroica replied in an extremely rare show of modesty.

“Ah,” Ivanov lowered his voice, pulling the Earl aside. “This is a bit…touchy, sir. My colleague believes these are stolen works.”

Eroica had to fight not to laugh. Nothing like asking a thief to verify stolen artwork. “Stolen, you say?” he said archly.

“Yes. Supposedly, the man who owned them was rumored to have been a Nazi during the war.”

Eroica’s eyebrows went up. “Is it true? Or just local gossip?”

“At this point,” Ivanov replied, “it’s just gossip. The man appeared shortly after the war. He was German. So the locals decided he must’ve been a Nazi war criminal hiding in their town.”

“So, the art collection could just as easily be replicas,” Eroica concluded.

“Yes. That’s rather why I was hoping you’d agree to have a look at it.”

Eroica looked over at his men working so diligently on the treasures of the Czars. “There’s still such a lot to do here…” he said mildly. He was fighting to keep from jumping up and down. A side trip to the Russian countryside and a possible cache of lost masterpieces!

“I’m sure your men can get along without you for a few days,” Ivanov said calmly. “It will take a full day just to get there.”

“Lord Gloria doesn’t work for free,” James injected suddenly.

Eroica wasn’t sure if he should be annoyed or amused by this interruption. He decided on amused when he saw the disconcerted look on Ivanov’s face. “James is right. I do have my standards. If I start doing odd jobs for free, where will that get me?”

James nodded approvingly but did not take his eyes off Ivanov. Before he could start firing questions at the man, Eroica said, “I’ll do it if you double my current fee.”

Ivanov gulped and James let out a delighted squeak. “And a another piece of your choosing, too, m’lord,” the accountant said firmly.

“Yes, thank you, James. And another piece of my choosing,” Eroica said calmly.

Ivanov nervously looked from one to another. “Ah…er…um…”

“Those are my terms.”

After a moment, Ivanov nodded. “I’m sure I can get that for you, Lord Gloria.”

“Excellent,” Eroica grinned. “And where is this supposed treasure trove?”

“In a little village approximately one hundred and eighty kilometres to the south.”

Eroica nodded absently. “So long as it’s not Siberia,” he joked.

Ivanov smiled thinly. “Not quite.”

“And just when do we leave?”

“Will tomorrow be too soon?”

* * *

Illustration by Dori

CHAPTER THREE

A Luxury Hotel, Lobby
Leningrad, Soviet Union
August 1987

“Lord Gloria, I think you may have misunderstood,” Ivanov said as he took in the Earl’s entourage and luggage. “My request was for you alone to accompany me.”

Eroica’s eyebrows went up. “Was it, indeed?” he said innocently. He had understood perfectly what the man had said, but that wasn’t about to stop him from seeing what he could get away with. “Will there be someone to look after me at the other end of this frightfully long journey?”

Bonham had to fight not to laugh as Ivanov’s eyes crossed. How the Earl loved to play with stuffed shirts like this man.

“I’m sure my colleague will have all that in hand, Lord Gloria,” Ivanov replied coolly.

“Oh, well, that’s alright then,” Eroica replied breezily, waving a hand in the air. He turned to his men. “Bonham, have my things put in the car, please.”

“Yes, m’lord,” Bonham said crisply, giving a slight bow before waving a hand to the others.

“My Lord,” James moaned, “you simply mustn’t go alone!”

“I’m sure Mr. Ivanov will take good care of me, James,” Eroica replied mildly.

“What if they try to kidnap you and hold you for ransom?” James said firmly.

“I’m sure you’d wear them down to a good price.”

“My lord!”

“Anyway,” Eroica went on calmly, “someone has to oversee things while I’m away. And who better than you?”

James paused, a perplexed expression passing over his face. This was true. The others would never catalog everything correctly. Nor would they keep a proper accounting of the time they spent on the job.

“I’ll be back in a few days,” Eroica said breezily, watching as the last of his luggage was loaded in the waiting limousine. Before James could object further, the Earl gave him a hug and planted a kiss on his cheek. “You can give me a full and private accounting of everything that went on while I was gone,” he whispered in his ear.

“Uh…uh, er…um,” James stammered. He was unable to see for the stars in his eyes, his heart soaring. “Yes! Oh, yes, my lord! Yes, yes!”

Eroica gave a bright smile before he turned on his heel and left the building. Bonham watched as he got into the waiting limousine, which drove of in the direction of the train station.

“Back to work, Bonham!” James called as he made his way back to the elevator. “We must get everyone back to work. I want to have a long report to give Lord Gloria when he returns.”

Bonham sighed and followed after the accountant. “You reckon that German’s collection really is a ‘oard o’ Nazi paintings?” he asked. “Or just another rumor?”

James gave a derisive snort. “So long as it’s nothing to do with that German machine maniac.” Then a sudden thought struck him and he looked up sharply. “He’s a Neo-Nazi expert! What if they’ve called him in, too?”

“That’s ‘ardly likely, is it?” Bonham broke in before James could begin whining in earnest. “The Commie’s aren’t likely t’ be callin’ in Uncle NATO, are they?”

* * *

Heathrow Airport
London, England
August 1987

The Major had taken Agents A, B and Z along to take care of any of the details that might have been overlooked in what seemed to him to have been a very hurriedly arranged exchange.

The men had scarcely left the gate when they were met by a member of SIS. The Major inwardly breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it wasn’t that idiot Bond wannabe Lawrence. He and his men were taken to a security area where two other agents with the ridiculously unoriginal code names of Smith and Jones were waiting with a handcuffed prisoner.

The Major looked the latter up and down and wondered what was so special about this particular individual that necessitated assigning Iron Klaus to escort him to Moscow. “Your code name?” he asked calmly.

“Siberian Shadow,” came the startling reply.

The Major’s eyebrows went up. Impressive. So this was the man who had managed to break into Buckingham Palace and get all the way to the Queen’s bedroom before being caught. The public had been told it was a disturbed individual, while the intelligence community was abuzz with the story. Siberian Shadow had been a thorn in the side of SIS security for nearly a decade, and very likely the one behind the half dozen security breaches at the Palace that year alone before he was finally caught. When was that? Klaus thought, searching his memory. July of 1982.

“You’ve been a guest of Her Majesty for some time,” he said finally.

“Five years,” Siberian Shadow replied. His eyes narrowed. “And you are the infamous Iron Klaus. Someone must think I’m rather important. No doubt I’ll receive a hero’s welcome when I return home.”

The Major grunted, thinking it would be more likely this poser would be packed off to Siberia to live up to his name. “Let’s go,” he said curtly, waving a hand to the others.

Klaus had the SIS men take the lead, the prisoner between them, while he followed behind. It was all too obvious that the prisoner wasn’t the only one who was slightly unnerved by this.

“Major, wouldn’t you like to walk ahead of us?” Jones asked apprehensively as they made their way through the terminal.

“I’d rather have him where I can see him,” the Major replied coldly. Especially since he was the only one being permitted to carry a gun into the Soviet Union.

Agent B had gone to make certain all the paperwork was in order so there would be no delays. Agent Z was sent ahead to the gate to give it a security sweep while Agent A stayed with the first SIS man, having been charged with calling ahead to Berlin, the first stop on the journey to Moscow. The Major and his subordinates would go to Berlin via a commercial carrier. After this, the Major, the SIS men, and Siberian Shadow would be transferred to a military jet that would take them directly to the Soviet Union. They would then be taken to the Lubyanka, where the so-called exchange would take place.

At the same time the Major and the others were in route to Moscow, a KGB contingent would also be taking a prisoner to an undisclosed location. After all this was concluded, the Major and his British counterparts would join the group of businessmen at the conference and leave the Soviet Union with them.

It all seems very straightforward. All the paperwork had been in order. Agent A had verified that a plane was already waiting for the Major’s arrival in Berlin. On top of this, the Kremlin had reiterated its desire for this gesture of openness to go off without a hitch.

When they arrived at the gate, Agent Z drew the Major’s attention to a familiar face among the crowd of relatives saying their goodbyes. The Major halted the others and turned to Z. “How long has he been there?”

“He was there when I came to check the area, sir,” Z replied in a low voice.

The Major nodded and then turned to the crowd, a cheerful expression on his face. “Now there’s a face I didn’t expect to be seeing me off,” he said happily, crossing to the KGB agent, Polar Bear.

Polar Bear scowled. How he hated when the Major greeted him in this manner.

“After what happened in Austria,* I thought you’d be living in Siberia by now,” the Major said.
* Emperor Waltz

“I think you have me confused with a different currier,” Polar Bear replied.

The Major’s eyes flickered. So somebody did go to Siberia after that cock up. Good. “Making sure your Comrade gets off on schedule?” he asked coldly.

“I didn’t believe it when they told me that Iron Klaus would actually be taking Siberian Shadow to Moscow.”

“Orders are orders,” the Major said dismissively. “Would I be correct in assuming there’ll be a similar greeting party in Berlin?”

“Perhaps…” Polar Bear said evasively. “I should think the greeting party in Moscow would be of more concern to you.”

The Major waved a hand in the air. “Didn’t you hear? I’m a personal guest of your General Secretary Gorbachev.” He could not resist the small smile that twisted the edges of his mouth at the astonished look this announcement produced. “With full diplomatic status,” he added smugly.

The conversation ended when the final boarding call came over the public address system. The Major turned to see his alphabets patiently waiting beside the nervous looking SIS men, who stood twitching and glancing towards the gate. Idiots. Do they think I’m gonna miss the plane?

Within half an hour, the plane was lifting off. The Major settled back in his seat and lit a cigarette. Despite the appearance of Polar Bear, things were going much too well for his liking. Even without his subordinates around to screw things up at the final destination, he was certain something would go wrong. But at least there was no possible way for Eroica to show up and make a mess of things. There was no way the Earl would go anywhere near the KGB.

* * *

Somewhere South of Leningrad, Soviet Union
August 1987

“This collection I’m to be looking at,” Eroica said calmly. “Where is it, exactly?”

“Apparently, it’s been in storage since the war,” Ivanov replied. “The owner died a few weeks ago, and it was only just discovered when his heirs came to claim his estate.”

Eroica’s eyebrows went up. “I didn’t realize the Soviet government contacted family living outside the Communist block.”

Ivanov cleared his throat. “The heirs in question are from East Germany.”

“Ah!” Eroica nodded. That explained a great deal. There would be no problems contacting someone in another Communist country. Nor would they be very likely to argue should Moscow decide it wanted to keep whatever treasure this individual might possess.

The Earl noticed that his host had fallen into an awkward silence and wondered how best to begin the conversation again. He did not have to. At that moment, one of Ivanov’s assistants came to their compartment. After a brief conversation, he left.

“You’re surrounded by such handsome young men,” Eroica sighed. He leaned over to watch the receding figure move down the corridor. Ivanov shifted uncomfortably in his seat and the Earl gave him an innocent look. “Is something wrong?”

“My colleague is a man of the old school, Lord Gloria,” Ivanov began nervously. He met the Earl’s inquiring gaze and waved his hand to take in his colorful apparel. “Your…er, decadent appearance may be disconcerting for him.”

Eroica leaned forward, putting his chin in his hand and fluttering his eyelashes. “Only my appearance, Comrade?” he said breathily.

Again, Ivanov cleared his throat nervously. He pulled at his collar as he attempted to come up with the right words. Is it getting hot in here?

This reaction caused the Earl to laugh and he sat back in his seat. “Don’t look so worried. My man packed a very respectable business suit for me.” He indicated a garment bag hanging against the wall that had somehow escaped the other man’s notice. “I didn’t want to soil it on the train. It’s rather expensive, and Mr. James would never forgive me if I ruined it.”

“I see…”

“Don’t fret. I’ll change before we arrive.”

Relief flooded visibly over Ivanov’s face. “I appreciate that, Lord Gloria.”

“I want to make a good impression on your associate,” the Earl added archly, grinning at the disconcerted expression this produced on the other man’s face.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have to meet with my assistants.” So saying, Ivanov practically fled from the compartment.

Eroica giggled and glanced out the window. He pulled out the pocket dimension and smiled knowingly as he took a cigarette and lighter from it. He casually lit the cigarette and smiled again. How many treasures would this little wonder contain when he made the return journey to Leningrad?

* * *

The Kremlin
Moscow, Soviet Union
August 1987

Turlough sat quietly near the end of a long conference table while the Doctor happily chatted with several apparently high ranking Soviet officials. The young man had been introduced to all concerned and then hurriedly taken to a chair by the Doctor, who told him to stay put and not interrupt.

Someone came in with some very sweet tea and then, about an hour later, with some very strong Vodka. Fortunately, no one bothered to offer the boy any of the latter. He sat calmly sipping his tea while the Doctor and the others knocked back glass after glass of Vodka. Turlough could not help but wonder how they could possibly keep track of what they were talking about during all this…toasting.

After several hours, the Doctor got to his feet and thanked everyone at the table. Then it was bear hugs all around, slaps on the back, and kisses on the cheek.

Turlough got slowly to his feet and waited for all this nonsense to be over. Suddenly, the Doctor had him by the arm and was steering him out the door.

“Come on,” the Doctor said in a low voice. “That’s done it.”

“Done what?” his confused companion replied.

“Cemented my standing with the current regime of the Communist Party, as it were.”

Turlough blinked. “It did?”

“Yes. Apparently, my past exploits with UNIT did not go unnoticed by Moscow.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Considering who one of the individuals was that I was working with at the time, not good as far as the KGB was concerned.”

“But not now?”

“No. The Kremlin is giving us a cover story,” the Doctor informed. “So, tomorrow morning, all the papers necessary for us to begin a complete and scientific evaluation of the matter transmission experiments in the Lubyanka will be ready and waiting.” He pushed open a door and continued down a long corridor.

“Wow.”

“Yes. As I said. It helps to have friends in high places.”

Turlough nodded. Then it suddenly occurred to him that they were striding through the Kremlin unimpeded. It also occurred to him that the Doctor was still cold sober, which he remarked on.

“Ah. Well, my liver is currently working overtime to metabolize all that alcohol,” the Doctor said offhandedly. “Time Lord physiology does have its uses from time to time.”

I’ll bet. “There won’t be a repeat performance when we pick up your paperwork, I hope,” Turlough said dryly.

The Doctor gave him a disapproving look. “No.”

* * *

The Lubyanka, KGB Headquarters
Moscow, Soviet Union
August 1987

Several hours after lifting off from London’s Heathrow airport, the Major found himself in a car on the way to KGB headquarters. He reflected back on the numerous failed attempts by KGB agents to get him to Moscow. Now, here he was going willingly. Well, not exactly willingly, but he was under orders. Goddamn, bloody, fucking NATO.

The Major was actually surprised that none of the agents he had encountered over the years were present to gloat. Polar Bear was undoubtedly still in London. Mischa the Cub had greeted him in Berlin. That was only two out of how many others over the years? Perhaps the higher ups at the Kremlin were attempting to make a show of things. Which only caused him to be all the more suspicious. If the Commies let Iron Klaus leave the very heart of KGB headquarters unscathed, then the intelligence community might be fool enough to let its guard down.

Idiots, Klaus thought as he started up the stone steps. The bloody KGB never does anything without an ulterior motive.

As in London, the Major followed after the others. He was stunned when the journey led to the third floor office of KGB Chairman Viktor Chebrikov.

If the KGB is going to make a move, this would be the perfect time, he thought as he went through the official motions of turning Siberian Shadow over to his superiors. A conference call was made to the United States and it was only then that the Major learned that his opposite number in the KGB had been delivering their prisoner to CIA Headquarters in Langley, Virginia.

Chebrikov spoke with CIA Director William Webster for several minutes. As far as the Major could see, they were just exchanging platitudes. The KGB Chairman made a small speech about the new reforms, which brought to mind his less than banal statements that had been on the front of Pravda that very January. The man had actually admitted that employees of the KGB had committed illegalities.

The Chairman then stunned the Major again by personally thanking him for leading the team that returned Siberian Shadow to the Soviet Union. For the sake of diplomacy, Klaus grudgingly accepted the handshake, but was not about to give the man a bear hug.

Finally, the little gathering ended and the Major and his SIS counterparts were being taken to where the businessmen were gathered to discuss security and surveillance systems. Klaus lit a cigarette as the group made their way down the corridor. He looked completely relaxed, but his eyes were never still for an instant.

“I didn’t think we were going to get out of there alive,” Jones said nervously, throwing a quick glance back at the now closed door of the Chairman’s office.

“Neither did I,” Smith replied. He breathed a sigh of relief as they boarded the elevator.

Klaus moved to the back of the lift and watched in some annoyance as the SIS men relaxed visibly. “We’re not out of the Lubyanka yet,” he said aridly as the doors closed.

* * *

CHAPTER FOUR

Security & Surveillance Conference
The Lubyanka
Moscow, Soviet Union
August 1987

“You must be our late arrivals.”

The Major turned to the man who had spoken, thinking this was so ridiculously obvious it did not even require a reply. Instead, he settled for a piercing look and gave a small smile when the man flinched. “Hans Keller,” he said, shaking the man’s already outstretched hand.

“Ah! You’d be with the German contingent.”

Again with the fucking obvious! Bloody Yanks. “Ja, zhat I vould,” Klaus sing-songed in a caricature German accent.

The SIS men gave him a stricken look before they were suddenly being accosted by the man who identified himself as Jeff Miller, one of the organizers of the conference.

“Well, let’s get you settled,” Mr. Miller said happily. “We’re just about to get back underway.”

“I’m still a bit muddy on the details,” Jones said mildly.

“Oh, just brainstorming today. We’ll take everyone’s ideas to the Commies when we’re done. Run it up the flagpole and see who salutes,” Miller grinned. “We’ll teach ‘em what Madison Avenue is all about.”

“Oh, jolly good!” Smith said in an exaggerated tone. Miller rushed off to get the leaders of the other groups. “I have no idea what the bloody Yank just said,” Smith said under his breath.

“I think the KGB would be preferable to that idiot,” the Major replied aridly.

“At least the Commies have better taste in suits,” Jones agreed, taking in the American’s garish clothing. The majority of the assembled businessmen were dressed in the standard three-piece suit and tie. Only a few, such as Miller, had chosen “business casual.”

“When are we supposed to get out of here?” Smith asked quietly as the three waited near the door. “Now wouldn’t be soon enough for me.”

Klaus mentally agreed with him. The sooner they were out from behind the Iron Curtain, the better. “Tomorrow,” he replied in an equally quiet voice. “We’re only supposed to be at this little gathering as a cover. My agents already verified the details. You’ll leave the building with the British contingent. I’ll be with the German group. Your airline tickets should already be at the front desk of your hotel. And a car will be waiting to take you to the airport at seven o’clock tomorrow morning.”

Jones nodded. “My thanks to your agents, Major.” He groaned as Miller waved a hand in their direction. The idiot was speaking with some men at the front of the room. “Happy faces, Mr. Smith,” he said as he plastered a grin on his face.

“Yes. Happy faces, Herr…um?” Smith’s voice trailed off when he turned to the Major.

“Keller.”

“Yes. Happy faces, Herr Keller.”

The Major gave a snort. “I’ll leave that to you two jolly Englishmen,” he said as he lit another cigarette.

“You lucky bugger. The stoic Teutonic fits you like glove, Major,” Jones said as he acknowledged the man grinning inanely at him from the front of the room. “I hate playing the ruddy jolly Englishman.”

The Major’s eyes flickered but he did not reply as someone from their respective groups came to collect them at that moment. They joined the others as the conference finally got underway.

* * *

Train Station
Moscow, Soviet Union
August 1987

“I feel like I’ve been on that train forever,” Eroica said as he stepped onto the platform and stretched. As promised, he had changed from his customarily outlandish attire to a very respectable Armani suit and tie. He had even managed to procure a rosebud for his buttonhole.

“If you’ll come this way, Lord Gloria.”

Eroica turned to see Romanov a few feet away. “Comrade Romanov!” he said brightly. “I didn’t know you would be coming with us. Oh, how positively delicious!”

Romanov did not reply, giving the Earl a cold, disapproving look, which went completely ignored.

You call that intimidating? Eroica thought dismissively as he looked around the platform. The Major could eat you for breakfast. Then he giggled as his own words struck him. Several images in his own desire to be eaten for breakfast by the Major came to mind, all of which he knew the officer would object to violently.

Keep your mind on the job, Eroica reminded himself. You can’t afford to let your lechery run away with you. Especially in Communist Russia!

“This looks like a rather large city,” he remarked, trying to get his mind back on the subject of art…and thieving. “I thought this collection was in a small village.”

“I’m sorry. My English. It isn’t what it should be,” Ivanov said apologetically as he came up beside him. “The man who died lived in a small village. His collection is stored here.” He held out a hand to the waiting car.

“Isn’t it a bit late to be looking at these?” Eroica asked as he got into the car. “We’re losing the light,” he said, glancing up to the fast darkening sky.

“There’s plenty of light in the studio, Lord Gloria. No need to worry about passing summer thunderstorms stealing the sunlight.”

Eroica nodded. “Natural light is always the best.” Except when I’m the one doing the stealing, then pitch dark it best.

Ivanov settled back in his seat. “If you feel you need to see them in better light, we’ll return tomorrow,” he said amiably. “First, we’ll get you introduced to everyone.”

“Oh, if you must…” the Earl sighed dramatically.

“Then we’ll get you to the finest restaurant in the city for dinner. How does that sound?”

The Earl brightened considerably upon hearing this. “That sounds lovely.”

* * *

Security & Surveillance Conference
The Lubyanka
Moscow, Soviet Union
August 1987

Klaus listened as the businessmen bickered back and forth about technological advances and current “state-of-the-art” technology, all of which would be considered outdated by the intelligence community. He nodded when others did, deferring to someone else with “better knowledge” when asked his opinion. He preferred to chain smoke and observe. When he first heard of this conference, he feared the Soviets would be getting hold of ultra-modern or top secret equipment. Now that he’d seen what was being presented, he realized his worries were groundless. If the Reds were going to get their hands on modern technology, it certainly wouldn’t be from this lot.

There was a break in the afternoon, and Klaus decided to take advantage of the lax atmosphere and slip out. He might never get another opportunity to walk around the Lubyanka again. After all, he held only temporary diplomatic status. As soon as he returned to Germany, it would be null and void. He left the conference room with a few others heading to the Men’s room. No one would pay any attention to him, nor would they be looking for him to return with any specific group. He took care of business, and then took his time washing his hands as one group of men was replaced by another. He casually lit a cigarette as he left the room, and then quickly headed in the opposite direction of the conference room, vanishing around a corner before anyone noticed.

Considering where he was, the Major was surprised at what little security there actually was. He expected to see at least a guard or two somewhere along the line. He kept a mental note of the turns he made, keeping to a specific pattern so he would be able to find his way back to the conference room.

A door opened up ahead of him followed by voices. He ducked around a corner and strained to listen. Scientists discussing technical mumbo jumbo, he concluded. Then again, any scientific information he could gather would be of value to someone, even if he himself didn’t understand a word of it. With this in mind, he decided to follow them.

Klaus had barely started down the corridor when he realized he wasn’t alone. Someone had obviously spotted him and was following. He continued until he was within a few feet of the door that had opened before he casually lit a cigarette and turned. The corridor was the empty. So, he waited. After a minute, he heard the man shift position and a ghost of a smile came to his face. Amateur.

“Well, don’t stand around in the shadows,” he said calmly. “If you don’t want to lose track of me, you’d better keep up.”

A man Klaus did not recognize stepped into the corridor. From the insignia on his uniform, the Major recognized the man’s rank as Lieutenant. So I only rate a junior officer. How low has Iron Klaus sunk?

“You’re a long way from the conference, sir,” the Lieutenant said as he came forward.

“I was looking for the john” the Major replied coolly.

“Really? You weren’t looking for other things?”

“It’s a security and surveillance conference. I was checking the security. Not very efficient, in my view.”

A door near the room the Major was heading toward opened and another man he did not recognize stood on the threshold. He exchanged a look with the Lieutenant, who said simply, “Comrade Borodin.”

Borodin acknowledged the greeting with a nod and turned to the Major. “I can only assume you’re trying to collect intelligence information to take back to Bonn, Major Eberbach,” he said knowingly.

The Major’s eyes flickered. Dammit, I was set up. They let me wander this far into the building. Why? He waved his hand dismissively. “There isn’t anything here that I don’t know already.” He made a point to stubbing out his cigarette on the portrait of Mikhail Gorbachev that was on the wall behind him.

Borodin stepped back in the doorway, holding out a hand. “Please, Major, come in. I’ve a feeling you’ve never seen this before.”

The Major threw a quick glance back at the armed officer blocking his escape. The threat was obvious. When no one made any move to search him, he wondered if they realized that he was armed. That was definitely a piece of information to keep to himself. At least for the time being.

Klaus gave a non-committal shrug and entered the room. Whatever he could glean, he reminded himself, and then get the hell out as quickly as possible. He’d head for the nearest Embassy of a NATO country and contact Bonn. After that, the politicians could fight out the details of getting him out from behind the Iron Curtain.

* * *

Inter-Galactic Medical Conference
Gorbachev Complex
Moscow, Russia
November 2620

“I hope your first visit to Earth was enjoyable, your highness,” Rosewood said urbanely as he led his royal guest through the enormous building.

When Rosewood originally learned he had been assigned as aide to a visiting Crown Prince of a planet he had never heard of, he had foreseen a week of ego stroking compounded by lengthy explanations of all things human. He soon learned that his royal charge was nothing like the other aristocrats to whom he had been assigned. The Prince was extremely intelligent and very knowledgeable about inter-species medicine. In fact, he was a self-sufficient individual who appreciated candor and had absolutely no illusions about himself whatsoever.

Prince Jason gave his aide a small smile. “Actually, this isn’t my first visit to Earth, Rosewood,” he said mildly.

Rosewood gave the Prince a startled look. “Really, sir? I was sure the Ministry said this was your first visit.”

“Well, it’s my first as Crown Prince. And the first in this century. They just didn’t go back far enough.”

This was enough to stop Rosewood in his tracks. “This century? ”

“My dear Rosewood, I’m Alterran, not human. I’m almost three hundred years old.”

Rosewood’s eyes grew wide as saucers. “Three hundred? ” he gasped, looking the Prince up and down. He looked very human. Average height and build, curly black hair with not a speck of grey anywhere. In fact, he looked like he was in his late twenties.

Jason grinned. “I should’ve realized they hadn’t told you all the facts when I first arrived.”

“Sir, all they told me was your title and that you were a highly qualified physician.”

Jason laughed at this. “At least they have me as highly qualified. That’s something I suppose.”

Rosewood’s next question was forestalled when a uniformed individual appeared with a message requesting that the Prince come to Transmat 12.

Jason raised an eyebrow, exchanging a baffled look with his aide. “I’m not being deported from the planet, am I?” he asked jokingly.

The officer gave him a puzzled look. “No, sir,” he said seriously.

Rosewood chuckled. “His highness was joking, Corporal.”

“Yes, sir,” the Corporal replied stiffly before turning to lead the way.

Jason shook his head. Why is it military men never have a sense of humor?

When the Prince arrived at the transmat room, he found more serious expressions. Then he learned why. Transmat 12 had been experiencing intermittent power fluctuations. Since all the other transmats were functioning perfectly, the fault was thought to be isolated to this single unit. And all efforts of the technicians to trace the origins of the fault had proven fruitless.

“I’m sorry, I’m not following this,” Jason interrupted. “Why did you want me? I’m not a transmat technician.”

“No, sir,” lead technician Barnes replied. “But I understand that you have considerable knowledge of temporal mechanics and time-travel.”

Rosewood made a small startled noise, causing the Prince to throw him an amused sideways glance. The poor man had been his aide for more than a week, and only on the day he was scheduled to leave was he learning about his considerable experience and background. What would the poor man think if he learned he was what many referred to as a “shape-shifter?” Vulgar term, the Alterran reflected with distaste. He much preferred the term, “transmute.”

“True. But I still don’t see how it’s relevant,” the Prince replied.

Technician Barnes motioned the Alterran over to the computer screen. “We just discovered the energy fluctuation is external.” He pointed at the wave pattern being displayed. Before he could say anything further, he heard Jason catch his breath.

“Good Lord, do you have any idea what that is?” Jason asked, turning his now wide sapphire blue eyes in the technician’s direction.

“Not exactly, sir. That’s why I sent for you.”

“It means you have a transmat sitting on top of a temporal anomaly!” the Prince announced. “I think you should start from the beginning, Mr. Barnes.”

* * *

The Lubyanka
Moscow, Soviet Union
August 1987

The Major kept a bored expression on his face, but as usually, his eyes took in everything. The room was large and very functional, the back wall covered with gauges and dials. A massive computer, perhaps? There was a kind of podium or control panel a few metres in front of it that had an angled surface. He wondered if an operator was meant to be standing behind it.

Klaus turned his gaze to the other side of the room and frowned. There was a large square platform that had a tall, clear plastic enclosure on it. No, not even an enclosure. It only had three sides. Another platform stood against the far wall, but had only loose equipment and wires piled on it. He turned back to Borodin, who had an expectant expression on his face. “Don’t tell me. You’ve discovered how to make a bullet proof telephone booth,” Klaus said blandly.

“Very amusing,” Borodin replied.

“Enough of this crap,” Klaus snapped impatiently. “What the hell do you want? I have a conference I’m supposed to be attending. My Chief expects a full report.”

Borodin waved a hand. The Lieutenant who had been following the Major took him by the arm. Klaus had to fight not to pull away as he was dragged further into the room and finally thrust against the wall. Find out what they’re up too, he reminded himself. Don’t tip your hand too soon.

“We both know that Iron Klaus isn’t here to attend a conference,” Borodin replied coldly as he came to stand in front of him.

“If you know who I am, you also know I’m here as a guest of your General Secretary,” the Major replied coldly. He gave the man an angry look. “Your own Director admitted there were…illegalities within the KGB. Does he know they’re still going on?”

Borodin growled and slapped the Major across the face. “Insolent dog!”

The Major touched his hand to his face and looked up, his eyes blazing. “That was a mistake.”

* * *

CHAPTER FIVE

Transmat 12
Gorbachev Complex
Moscow, Russia
November 2620

Technician Barnes had only just finished his rundown of events when the transmat systems came to life on their own. He gave a low groan, looking at the readings in despair. Beside him, Prince Jason had a different reaction. His eyes flashed over the readings and then to the monitor atop the control desk. “That’s not an anomaly,” he announced. “It’s a time corridor.”

“Time corridor?” Barnes replied. “How’s that possible?”

“I’ve no idea.” Jason’s fingers were already clattering on the keyboard. “It’s fluctuating all over the place. Moving forward and backward in time. The transmat must pick it up whenever it moves into this time zone.”

The Technician glanced over to his equally bewildered co-workers. When he had insisted on sending for a temporal engineer, his superiors had simply scoffed at him, something he feared the Prince would also do. He was greatly relieved that this was not the case, and equally relieved that his decision to send for the Prince had not been in vain.

“Um, sir? What can we do about this?”

Jason looked up, a puzzled expression on his face. “Do?”

“To shut it down?”

“Ah!” Jason grinned. “Nothing, I’m afraid. It has to be shut down at the source, wherever—whenever—that is.”

Barnes groaned and closed his eyes. “Great.”

“Don’t despair, Mr. Barnes. I’ve a friend who’s an expert in these matters. He’ll be able to deal with the source.”

“A temporal engineer?”

“Better.”

“Better? What’s better than a temporal engineer?

Jason looked the technician in the eye, his smile widening. “A Time Lord.”

* * *

The Lubyanka
Moscow, Soviet Union
August 1987

The sound of voices coming from the hallway brought a knowing smile to Borodin’s face. “Now we’ll see why you’re really here, Major,” he said cryptically.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” came the confused reply.

A split second later, the door behind the officer opened. “My colleague is just in here,” came Ivanov’s voice.

The Major’s eyes widened when a very familiar English voice replied, “This isn’t exactly the type of storage facility I was expecting.”

The Earl entered and stopped dead as he took in the room. Then his eyes fell on the equally astonished Klaus. “Major!” he gasped, not quite able to take it in. He looked around himself, become more frightened and confused by the second.

“What is this?” Eroica demanded, turning to Ivanov. “Where have you brought me?”

“You idiot, this is KGB Headquarters,” the Major snapped.

Eroica blanched visibly. “What?”

“This is my colleague, Comrade Alexei Borodin,” Ivanov informed, holding a hand out in the scientist’s direction.

Before the Earl could think of a reply, he found himself being pulled away from the door by one of the two Soviet Army men who had been part of his “escort” into the building. He was roughly shoved over to where the Major stood glaring at him. He fell back against the officer and turned quickly to face him, a startled expression on his face. He looked the Major in the eye, his eyes flashing down to where he gun was and back up again.

The Major’s eyes flickered in response. Obviously, the Earl had felt the gun when he collided into him. Moreover, he was smart enough to keep this information to himself. Or so Klaus thought. Suddenly, the idiot was hugging him!

“Oh, Major, I’m so glad you’re here to protect me,” Eroica cooed.

“He’s got a gun!” someone gasped as the Major’s jacket was pushed open far enough to reveal his shoulder holster.

“You—!”

“Trust me, Major,” Eroica said quietly before the admonition could get any further.

Klaus growled and continued to glare at the thief as he was searched. The man searching him was surprised to find the officer unarmed. As was the Major, who suddenly realized that Eroica had taken his weapon when he was making a show of hugging him.

“Really, Major,” Eroica chided. “Must you always wear that thing? Even when you’re not allowed to carry a gun?”

“You never know when you might find one,” the Major replied aridly, giving the armed guards at the door a knowing look.

“Search the Earl, too,” Ivanov ordered.

The Major rolled his eyes. “That will make his day.”

Eroica gave him a bright smile. “Jealous, Major?” he said archly.

“I wouldn’t waste my time searching you for a gun. You’re a lousy shot. Completely useless with firearms.”

“Oh, that hurt!” Eroica moaned. He grabbed the Major’s lapel and gave him a quick shake. “I demand an apology!”

Klaus was momentarily thrown. “You what?”

“I demand an apology,” the Earl repeated firmly.

This time, the Major was fully aware of his weapon being returned as the Earl made a point of running a hand over his chest when he withdrew it.

“You’ll get a fat lip if you don’t take your hands off me,” Klaus growled threateningly.

“Enough!” Ivanov roared. He waved a hand and the pair were roughly separated.

“What the hell did you bring this bloody bugger to Moscow for?” the Major demanded.

“According to our records, Major Eberbach, there’s a long standing relationship established between the two of you,” Ivanov informed smugly.

“Christ, you idiots can’t get anything right! How many times must I tell you I want nothing to do with this bloody nuisance!”

“What do you expect, Major?” Eroica said dismissively. “They can’t even get your name right.”

The Major gave a disgusted snort in reply.

“I think it’s lack of breeding myself,” Eroica went on coolly.

The Major’s eyes narrowed. Although he could not deny being amused when the Earl went on to say, “First there’s the obvious lack of manners on Comrade Ivanov’s part. No formal introductions on my arrival. And we don’t even get Comrade Borodin’s patronymic.”

“Perhaps the bastard doesn’t have one.”

Eroica’s eyes widened in surprise. Was the Major actually going along with this frivolity? Then again, he would go along with anything that came at the expense of the KGB. “I do believe you may be right,” he drawled, looking Borodin up and down.

“Enough!” Ivanov thundered again before addressing the Major once more. “Do you deny the Earl’s involvement in your mission just this spring in Austria, Major?”*
* Emperor Waltz

“Yes, God dammit!” Klaus said vehemently. “He wasn’t involved, he was in my bloody way. Again. Fucking the whole thing up, just like he does every time he shows up.”

While Ivanov had been struggling to regain control of the situation, Borodin was activating the equipment. The plastic “telephone booth” started to hum. A moment later, the interior seemed to distort, gaining the attention of the Major and Eroica.

“So it wouldn’t matter to you if we used Lord Gloria to test our equipment, would it?” Borodin asked calmly.

The Major waved a hand in the air. “You can carve him up for Christmas dinner for all I care.”

“Major, that’s not funny,” Eroica said nervously. “Anyway, Communists don’t celebrate Christmas.”

“Then you’re safe from being turned into Christmas dinner, aren’t you?”

“Maybe I should ask to watch when they take you into an interrogation room and torture you,” Eroica fired back angrily.

“Yes, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

As with all the other KGB agents before him, Ivanov was completely thrown by the pair’s by-play. The reports couldn’t have gotten it that wrong. He waved a hand and one of the guards took hold of the Earl.

“Major, you’re not really going to let them throw me in there, are you?” Eroica demanded fearfully.

The Major did not reply directly, turning instead to Borodin. “Since this is a demonstration,” he said in a bored tone, “it might help if I knew what was being demonstrated.”

Borodin grinned. “Are you familiar with the theory of matter transmission?”

“You mean as in, ‘Beam me up, Scotty?’” the Major said in a mocking tone.

“A transporter!” Eroica gasped. “Like on Professor X?”

Everyone in the room gave him a blank look. “Oh, really,” Eroica moaned. “Professor X. On the BBC! The mysterious traveler who roams the universe in his pillar box fighting evil.”*
* This is a parody of Doctor Who within Doctor Who itself.

“Sounds like the kind of drivel you’d enjoy,” the Major snorted dismissively.

Ivanov sighed heavily. If there was a relationship between this pair, it was mutual disdain as far as he could see.

“We’re wasting time,” Borodin injected.

“Quite right,” Ivanov replied. He waved a hand at the guard. “Throw him in.”

“What! No!” Eroica exclaimed. The Lieutenant who had been following the Major came over to help the man already holding him. He struck the struggling Earl hard across the face before taking him by the arm.

“Major, do something!”

The Major stood in a stunned silence as the horrified Earl was thrust into the box, and then vanished completely.

“You idiots!” Ivanov thundered. “Your orders were to let him struggle! All that time and effort, wasted!”

“I take it I was supposed to stop that happening,” Klaus said blandly. He received an angry glare in reply. “Where’s he gone to?”

“No idea,” Borodin replied dismissively. “We’ve never been able to get anything to rematerialize properly.”

“What?” The Major turned a disbelieving gaze back at the booth. “Are you saying he’s dead?”

“He will be when he materializes at the other end, wherever that may be,” Borodin replied coldly.

“And if you don’t want to be next,” Ivanov rejoined, “you’ll tell us what your mission is.”

The Major blinked. “My mission?”

“Don’t play dumb, Major. It doesn’t suit you.”

“My mission was to deliver Siberian Shadow and return to Germany.”

Ivanov gave him a dark look. “And…?”

“And nothing. What do you morons think I’m doing here?”

Ivanov waved a hand. “I think, rather than waste the power for Comrade Borodin’s device, we should try…other means.”

“I don’t think so,” the Major replied. There’s no way the KGB, or anyone else, is gonna take Iron Klaus alive. He pulled his Magnum and pointed it at the Lieutenant just as he was reaching for him, stopping the man in his tracks.

“Don’t just stand there! Get him!” Ivanov screamed.

No one moved.

The Major’s eyes flickered. “Your men have more sense than you do.”

Ivanov pulled a gun and was shot down for his trouble.

Klaus took advantage of the diversion, decking the Lieutenant. “I’m the only one who hits that bugger,” he stated coldly. He stepped into the booth, a smug expression coming to his face. He turned and gave a small salute. “Do svidunia, Comrades,” he said as he vanished.

* * *

Transmat 12
Gorbachev Complex
Moscow, Russia
November 2620

Jason was checking over the newest readings when someone across the room said, “Mr. Barnes, there’s something in there again.”

Jason looked up sharply. “Again?”

“Yes, sir,” Barnes replied. “We’ve noticed…er, I don’t know. Debris, I suppose. In the anomaly.”

The Prince returned his attention to the monitor, his fingers flying over the controls. After a few seconds, his eyes grew wide. “That’s not debris! There’s someone in there!” he exclaimed. He waved a hand at the transmat booth. “Somebody close that door. Quickly. I might be able to retrieve them.”

“What?” This was Barnes, who came over to see what the Alterran was looking at.

Jason did not even look up, his attention glued to the controls. “Got ‘em!” he said happily and finally looked up, seeing a form slowly materializing within the booth.

Everyone in the room seemed to be holding their breath as the crumpled form solidified, the individual’s long blond hair covering their face.

“Goddess, it’s a woman!” someone exclaimed.

“Barnes, keep an eye on the readings,” Jason ordered as he crossed the room. He pulled the door open and knelt down, carefully turning the unconscious arrival onto her—his!—back. Jason felt his heart miss a beat when he saw the familiar face, his eyes growing wide. “My God, Dorian…” he breathed, his fingers going to the unconscious man’s neck where, to his relief, he found a weak pulse.

It had been more than a century and a half since Jason and Eroica had crossed paths; long before the Alterran would learn he was to the Crown Prince of his home world. The last time Jason had seen the Earl was in the Earth year 1983 during an adventure in Iceland when he was still traveling with the Doctor.*
* My story – Espionage On Ice

Jason quickly checked the unconscious Eroica over. He didn’t appear much older than the last time the Alterran had seen him, so he must have entered the time corridor more or less in the same decade as the events in Iceland. The thief had a bruise forming on his face as well as a few others on his arms. Someone had been slapping him around.

Jason looked up as another thought struck him. He could think of at least one person who would not hesitate to strike the Earl. This thought had scarcely passed through the Prince’s mind when Barnes called, “Sir, there’s…someone else in the corridor.”

“I can probably guess who,” Jason said softly. He lifted Dorian into his arms and carried him from the booth, placing him gently on the floor. “Somebody call for medical help,” he ordered as he rose to his feet. He returned to the controls, his eyes flashing over the readings again. “Now… let’s see if I’m right.”

Less then a minute later, the Major’s unconscious form was materializing within the transmat, bringing a knowing smile to Jason’s face. “Bingo,” he said happily. “Somebody get him out of there,” he then ordered. “Then I can shut this thing down.”

Barnes gave him a stunned look. “I thought you said you couldn’t shut it down.”

“Ah. Yes, well…no. But I can throw it off-line for a while.”

Jason looked up, watching impatiently as the Major was removed from the booth. The moment the door was closed, he sent an energy pulse along the corridor. To his delight, his plan worked and the time corridor vanished. An alarm sounded at the same time and he quickly silenced it. I thought I took care of that, he thought as he reset the controls.

“Sir, that alarm means…”

“I am well aware of what it means, Mr. Barnes,” Jason snapped impatiently. “I’ve already taken care of it.”

The technician’s eyes narrowed. The alarm meant that whoever had just materialized had been carrying a weapon, which the transmat would have removed. How, he wondered, had the Prince “taken care of it?”

Before Barnes could enquire further, Jason was turning his attention to the men he had just plucked out of thin air. The time vortex was not a place to be without adequate protection. They would’ve suffered severe cellular damage, even in the short time they were inside the time corridor. Medical assistance arrived just as the Prince was making his way across the room.

It was all too obvious that no one knew the first thing about treating the injuries caused by the temporal vortex. The Alterran Healer took charge of the situation. He knew that if his friends did not receive the proper treatment, and fast, they would die. It was as simple as that. And they were the only ones who could tell him the location of the entrance to the temporal corridor.

* * *

The Lubyanka
Moscow, Soviet Union
August 1987

Borodin’s mouth hung open as he stood staring at the booth where the Major had been only seconds before. Suddenly the console in front of him started to throw out sparks. He looked down at it in shock, turning to look at the dials covering the back wall.

Before the man could come to any conclusions, several circuits blew up, throwing the entire system offline and shutting down the power flowing to the booth.

“Damn, damn, damn!” Borodin screamed, thumping his fist on the console several times. He looked over at the guards, who were staring down at Ivanov’s body. “Don’t just stand there,” he thundered. “Get that carcass out of here.”

The guards looked at him and recoiled at the man’s sudden, manic behavior. He always seemed to get this way when someone…disappeared in the transmat room. Just how many enemies of the State had entered over the decades never to been seen again? Many of the hardliners of the Communist Party were extremely unhappy with the “softening” of the party line. Just how many more people would disappear?

“Er, Comrade Borodin?” the Lieutenant said hesitantly. “How are we to explain this?”

Borodin looked over at the booth, a low growl rising in his throat. It would have been so simple to dispose of the body with the system online. Now they would have to take more conventional means. “I’ll take care of the questions.” He glared at the men, adding, “I’m sure I can rely on you all to keep what just happened to yourselves.”

This obvious threat sent a collective shiver down everyone’s spines.

“I fear the Comrade Director will be distressed,” the Lieutenant said calmly, “when he learns how Comrade Ivanov misunderstood the purpose of your demonstration to our honored guest.”

Borodin smiled approvingly. “Yes. He’ll be most distressed. As will the General Secretary.” I, on the other hand, am delighted. Damn fool got what was coming to him.

* * *

CHAPTER SIX

ARGO Flight Deck
Hanger Bay 287
Moscow, Russia
November 2620

Jason stood with his arms folded across his chest while his pilot Sully activated the communications system and took a seat at the console. Sully was a thin, smallish individual with sandy-blond hair that always seemed to be falling into his eyes.

“Don’t you think you should be the one doing this?” Sully asked apprehensively.

“The Time Lord’s are positively anal when it comes to protocol,” Jason replied knowingly. “Just remember to called me your highness.”

“Got it.”

“If I call them directly, they’ll just—” Jason broke off when the face of a Time Lord he did not recognize appeared on the communications screen in front of his pilot.

“Your security clearance code, please,” the Time Lord said without preamble.

“Um…” Sully threw a nervous glance over his shoulder. “I don’t have one.”

“You’re on a security—”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Jason snapped impatiently. He tapped Sully on the shoulder and the man vacated the seat, the Prince dropping down in his place. “Look, whoever you are, I’m Crown Prince Jason of Tel-Shye in the Alterran Empire,” he stated coolly. “I have a priority message that I need relayed to the Doctor. I have no idea where or when he is, so you lot are going to have to find him for me and relay the message.”

The Time Lord gave the Alterran a stricken look, turned to speak to someone off screen and then turned back. “One moment, please, your royal highness.”

The screen flickered and another Time Lord whom Jason did not know appeared. “Your royal highness, my name is Gilgavik. How may I be of assistance?”

“I need to have a messaged relayed to the Doctor,” Jason repeated. He explained about the time corridor and was surprised to learn that the Doctor was already on Earth in the time zone from which it originated. “Would I correct in assuming the origin is in Moscow some time in the latter part of the Twentieth century?”

Gilgavik’s eyes grew wide. “How did you know that?”

Jason grinned. “I retrieved two men from the time corridor. The last time I saw them was in the Earth year 1983. They don’t appear to be very much older, so logically…” And then there’s the dates on all their personal effects.

“You’re quite correct, sir. The point of origin is the Earth year 1987.”

Jason nodded. “If you’d be so kind as to let the Doctor know that I’m here, I would appreciate it. I’m going to try to lock the time corridor at this end so I can travel down it. I’ll be able to meet up with him at the other end.”

Gilgavik’s mouth dropped open. Even a Time Lord would think twice about traveling down an unstable time corridor. “Just how do you intend to lock the corridor?” he asked.

“One of the transmats here keeps picking up the signal whenever it enters this time zone. It’s probably near the site of the one in 1987 and they simply overlap.”

Gilgavik nodded. “That’s feasible,” he agreed. “If I may, I might be able to assist you in the mechanics of locking the time corridor.”

Now it was Jason’s turn to be surprised. Usually the Time Lords did not volunteer anything, especially help. He listened as Gilgavik explained exactly what he needed to do, only having to ask a few questions for clarification.

Finally, the conversation ended and the communications screen when dark. Jason sat thoughtfully a few minutes before turning to his perplexed pilot.

“Now what?” Sully asked.

“Now I get my other paperwork in order.”

Sully nodded absently. “Jason, was that conversation as weird as it looked?”

Jason gave a low grunt. “Weirder. I think I was talking with a CIA agent.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“It depends on whether or not the Doctor knows they’re involved.”

“Swell.” Sully threw a look across the room, suddenly remembering something else. “Uh, speaking of weird. While you were gone, something…odd came through on our own transmat.” He waved a hand, indicating a box across the room.

“Ah! Yes, thank you, Sully. I forgot about that.” Jason jumped to his feet and crossed to the box.

“Dare I ask…?”

The Prince looked up and smiled. “It belongs to a friend.”

“Jason, if you don’t mind my saying so, you have some very strange friends.”

Jason laughed. “My dear Sully, I will not argue with you there.”

* * *

Gorbachev Complex
Moscow, Russia
November 2620

After his disconcerting contact with Gallifrey, Prince Jason returned to the main offices and spent several hours sorting out the proper paperwork that would allow him to remain on Earth. He also made certain all the proper paperwork was filed that would allow him to more fully assist Technician Barnes and his team with Transmat 12. This would clear the way for him to take charge of the two men—the two friends—he had plucked from the time corridor. It was morning before he was finally able to make the journey to the infirmary to check on their progress.

“How are the patients?” Jason asked his aide as they made their way through the building.

“According to Dr. Topov, they’re responding quite well to the treatment you prescribed, sir,” Rosewood replied.

“Good. With any luck, I’ll be able to…” Jason’s voice trailed off as he pushed open the door to the infirmary. Further within, he heard a single raised voice and could not help but smile. Responding well indeed. Poor Topov. He threw a knowing look over at his confused aide. “Somebody isn’t happy. And I don’t even have to guess who.”

Following the voice, Jason pushed open a door to find Dr. Topov attempting to separate his patients. The Prince had to stifle a laugh when he saw the Major wrapped in a sheet and screaming at Eroica at the top of his voice.

“How many times have you interfered in my life, you Goddamn faggot?” the Major ranted.

Eroica was sitting up in bed, his arms crossed. “You can’t blame any of this on me, Major.”

“Then what the hell are you doing in the Soviet Union?”

“I told you. I went to Leningrad on legitimate business. It was your bloody spies who dragged me to Moscow under false pretenses.”

“I can’t believe that you were stupid enough to trust the KGB!”

“I didn’t know it was the KGB,” Eroica countered forcefully. “I thought I was dealing with a legitimate art broker. You don’t think I’d willingly work with those barbarians, do you?”

“Idiot! The KGB watches every westerner who sets foot in this country.”

Eroica gave a derisive snort and turned away in annoyance.

Dr. Topov seized the opportunity to intervene. “Gentlemen, please…”

The Major glared at the physician, who flinched away from his cold, hard green eyes. This allowed Jason to seize the opportunity himself and he cleared his throat loudly.

The Major turned, seeing the Prince and his aide at the door. He drew himself to his full height, eyeing them suspiciously. He took in the Alterran’s royal finery with a distinct air of distaste.

Jason watched this display in admiration, an amused smile coming to his face. You’ve got to give the man credit, even wrapped in a sheet, he can be damned intimidating. Thank God he doesn’t have a gun.

Dr. Topov had a different reaction. “Your royal highness, thank goodness!” he cried, crossing to the amused Prince Jason. “I’m at my wit’s end.”

“Not too long a journey,” Klaus snorted.

“I can see a trip through a temporal corridor hasn’t affected your charming disposition,” Jason observed mildly.

Klaus continued to eye him suspiciously. “Are you the one in charge?”

“So it would appear, Major Eberbach,” Jason replied mildly, a small smile coming to his face at the stunned expression this produced. He turned to the overwhelmed Dr. Topov, asking, “Doctor, are your patients fit to be released?”

“Yes. Yes!” Topov replied gratefully. “More than fit.”

“Good.”

Jason looked up, seeing the Major pull the sheet further around himself. “Dr. Topov, I think Major Eberbach would be more comfortable in his own clothes.”

“What about me?” Eroica called from across the room. It was unusual for him to be ignored and he was feeling distinctly put out by it.

The Alterran gave him a steady look. “I’m sure you’d be more comfortable in the Major’s clothes, too, Lord Gloria. But you’re going to have to settle for your own.”

Eroica blinked, his mouth dropping open.

The Major’s face darkened, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded. “What exactly is this place? How did we get here?”

“I’m afraid the answers to those questions aren’t all that simple, Major,” Jason replied evasively. “And they’ll take quite some time to explain.”

The Major snorted, waving a hand in the air. “Typical KGB response.”

Jason gave him a dark look. “I’ve been compared to quite a few things in my life, but never to one of those thugs.”

“The Major thinks everyone is KGB,” Eroica said matter-of-factly.

“What else would you find in KGB Headquarters, you idiot! Boy Scouts?” the Major countered fiercely.

Jason sighed heavily before he turned to Dr. Topov, saying quietly, “You’ll need to give the Major some privacy when he dresses, Doctor. He’s quite the homophobe when Lord Gloria is around.” Seeing the hundreds of questions about to spring from the man’s mouth, the Prince said quickly, “Don’t argue. Just do it. I have to get the last of the paperwork sorted out so I can officially take charge of my…um, guests. I’ll have someone come to collect them in a bit.” So saying, he turned on his heel and left.

* * *

The Prince made straight for the administrative offices where his paperwork was supposed to be waiting. He soon learned that there had been one delay after another. He finally had to resort to contacting Gallifrey again. Once more, the CIA intercepted his communication. He explained the situation and was pleased when the Time Lord on the screen asked to speak with the person in charge.

Jason could not prevent an amused smile from coming to his face as the stodgy Earth official that he had been dealing with was effectively dressed down. Somehow, it made the delay worth it.

* * *

Within half an hour after the Prince left them, the Major and Eroica were dressed in their own clothes and waiting for the promised escort. Dr. Topov had made himself scarce in the interim. A uniformed officer eventually appeared at the door and took in the pair in obvious distaste. “You men, come with me,” he ordered.

Klaus looked the soldier up and down, crossed his arms and leaned back against the counter that was behind him. “Where?” he demanded.

“I ask the questions around here.”

“Oh, this is starting out well,” Eroica said aridly from his place across the room.

The officer glanced down at a document in his hand. “Which one of you is Major Abberbatch? And which is…” He paused and frowned before asking, “Lordglory?” He looked from one to the other.

Eroica saw the Major roll his eyes as their names were mangled. Then the German turned a conspiratorial look in his direction. The Earl gave a slight nod, being inwardly grateful that for once he wasn’t dressed in his usual, flamboyant style. He had been thrown into the transmat still wearing his very respectable Armani suit.

“Who wants to know?” Eroica asked, trying to make his voice sound official.

“Captain Stavin,” came the succinct reply.

The Major gave a derisive snort. “Not Stalin?”

The Captain gave him a cold look. “Just come with me.”

“And if we refuse?”

The Captain put a hand on his weapon. “I wouldn’t want to have to use this.”

“I’ll bet you wouldn’t,” Eroica said caustically. He could tell that the Major was already sizing the man up. Iron Klaus had considerably more experience in these situations than he did. So, as in all the other occasions when this happened, Eroica simply followed the officer’s lead.

Klaus gave the Captain a dark look but did not respond. This man’s appearance only seemed to confirm his suspicions that they were still being held by the KGB and everything that had gone before was an elaborate charade. Why, he did not know. But he was not about to let anything slip and, fortunately, Eroica was intelligent enough to go along with whatever he said.

* * *

After several minutes walk, the Captain indicated a door. “In there,” he ordered.

Eroica threw a quick glance in the Major’s direction, receiving a non-committal shrug. With no other alternative, he pushed open the door. The pair found themselves in a kind of control room. There was a console covered with dials and buttons set before a large window overlooking a room containing nothing but an odd looking relining couch.

Eroica scowled, puzzled by what he saw. He heard the Major catch his breath and glanced over at him, seeing a startled expression on his face. He looked back into the room, the obvious question leaping to mind. However, since Captain Stavin clearly did not know their identities, Eroica was not about to give anything away. He gave the officer a steady look, mouthed the “M” in Major before saying quietly, “Klaus, do you know what that is?”

Even though he knew what Eroica was doing, annoyance briefly flashed across the Major’s face. “I’ve seen the plans for something like it. This must be the prototype.”

“I’m guessing that’s not good.”

“You guessed right.”

“Enough chatter,” the Captain snapped. Since the Major was closest to him, he took him by the arm and pulled him toward the door leading to the next room. To his astonishment, his prisoner forcefully pulled his arm out of his grasp.

“First we’re your patients, now we’re your prisoners?” Klaus observed coldly. “The hot and cold treatment. Is that how this works?”

“Actually, this is how it works. I ask the questions. You give the answers,” the Captain replied, taking hold of the Major’s arm again.

“Like hell,” Klaus snarled back, pulling his arm away a second time. He stood glaring at the dumbfounded officer, wishing he knew what had happened to his gun.

Four men suddenly seemed to appear out of nowhere. Eroica actually jumped when someone abruptly took hold of him and dragged him across the room. He was thrust up against the wall and manacled to in, his hands at his sides.

A smallish individual took a seat at the control desk while two others assisted the Captain in bodily dragging the protesting Klaus into the next room where he was forced onto the couch and strapped down.

Eroica watched in an appalled silence as a bizarre helmet was placed on the struggling Major’s head. It seemed to have dozens of wires coming out of it. There were thick pins sticking out of the sides that allowed it to be locked into place. “What is that?” he asked in a horrified whisper as the Major’s head was immobilized.

The operator looked at him as if he were stupid. “Haven’t you ever seen a mind probe before?”

Eroica felt all the blood drain from his face. “Mind probe…” he repeated dully, his eyes returning to the scene in the next room. The Major was completely strapped down and struggling for all his was worth.

“This will be a lot easier if you just cooperate,” the Captain said blandly, dismissing the others with a wave of his hand.

“Go fuck yourself!” Klaus snarled back.

The Captain controlled himself with visible effort as he returned to the control room. He looked through window at his struggling prisoner and then threw a quick look over at the aghast Eroica before ordering, “Activate.”

The same instant, Klaus caught his breath, his body going rigid as the helmet came to life, power stabbing into his brain.

“Now, we’ll start this off with an easy question,” the Captain said blandly, leaning close to a microphone that was attached to the control desk. “What’s your name?”

From his position in the room, the Major could see into the control room. He glared defiantly at the Captain, choosing to reply with several more carefully chosen obscenities.

“Come now, it’s a simple enough question? What’s your name?”

“I thought you already knew who we were.” This was Eroica, who was trying very had not to show how completely terrified he was. He flinched when the Captain turned an icy stare in his direction.

“What makes you say that?”

“How else would you know to ask for someone called Major?” came the logical reply.

“Shut up, you stupid limey!” Klaus called from the next room.

The Captain’s head snapped around. “Now, we’re getting somewhere,” he said happily. Then to the operator, he ordered, “Increase the power.”

“But, sir, I’m still not getting anything,” the operator protested.

“Then increase the power!”

Klaus responded with a scream that was a combination of pain and rage, and strained against the straps holding him down.

“Stop it!” Eroica screamed, pulling unsuccessfully at his bindings. “Why are you doing this? We’re perfectly harmless.”

“Then why won’t he tell me his name?” the Captain demanded.

“Because he’s a thickheaded Prussian, that’s why!”

The Major gritted his teeth, staunchly refusing to answer any questions. The power was increased again, tearing another enraged cry from his throat. He writhed in his bonds as the device clawed savagely at his brain.

“Name! What’s your name?” the Captain demanded.

“He won’t tell you because you want to know!” Eroica cried out desperately.

The Captain saw the anguished expression on the thief’s face and gave a wry smile. He crossed to him, slamming him forcefully back against the wall. “Then you tell me his name. Why are you here? Who are you both? How did you get past security?”

Eroica’s mouth dropped open in astonishment. “You mean…you really don’t know?”

The Captain ground his teeth and struck Eroica hard across the face. “What is his name?” he snarled, slamming his captive back against the wall and pinning him there. “You will tell me.”

A hand suddenly seized the front of the Captain’s uniform and forcefully yanked him back.

“No, I will tell you,” an angry voice replied as the officer was slammed into the wall beside Eroica with such force that it practically knocked the breath out of him. “His name is Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach. He’s a Major with NATO Intelligence. And you will release him this instant!”

CHAPTER SEVEN

MY GUESTS, I BELIEVE

When the stunned Captain recovered his breath, he saw an enraged Prince Jason holding him against the wall with one hand, a look of thunder on his face. Rosewood was just outside the door trying his best to stay out of the way.

“On whose authority?” the Captain finally demanded, trying and failing to sound forceful.

“Mine.”

“And just who the hell are you?”

The mind probe operator cleared his throat nervously. “He’s Crown Prince Jason of Tel-Shye, Captain.”

The officer looked the Alterran up and down. “Prince Jason left yesterday.”

“Obviously not,” Jason replied coldly. He turned to the operator. “Turn that abomination off. Now!”

“But…”

A low growl rose up in Jason’s throat. With his free hand, he took the weapon from the astonished Captain’s belt and fired a laser bolt into the control panel. The operator dove for cover as the device exploded into a show of sparks, instantly ending the Major’s torment.

Jason turned back to the officer still in his grasp. “What the hell do you think you’re doing to my guests?” he demanded as he finally released his grip.

“I’m following orders,” the Captain replied coolly, making a show of straightening his uniform.

This was never the answer to give to the Alterran Prince. He stiffened visibly, his eye narrowing as his face darkened further. “Following orders?” he repeated coldly.

“Yes.”

“Whose orders?”

“With all due respect, that’s not your concern,” the Captain replied, added in a condescending tone, “Sir.”

Jason gave another low growled. “I disagree.” He threw a glance in Eroica’s direction, ordering, “And get those things off Lord Gloria.”

The officer grudgingly removed the manacles from the bewildered and still terrified Eroica. “This is an Earth matter, sir. Not really your concern,” the Captain said, turning back to the Prince.

“This is no time for xenophobia, Captain. Not with a temporal corridor operating unchecked.”

The Captain gave a derisive snort. “You can’t possibly believe that story about these two being from the Twentieth century.”

“It happens to be true.”

“It would explain the lack of any reading on the equipment, Captain,” the mind probe operator injected from his place under the control desk. He flinched back when the officer gave him a dark look and snarled, “Shut up!” before turning back to the Alterran aristocrat.

Jason pulled a document from inside his jacket and held it out. “This is the authorization giving me complete autonomy in this matter. In other words, Captain, you are to follow my orders. Is that understood?”

The officer decided on a different tact. “With all due respect, sir, do you think you can handle something like this?” he asked contemptuously.

“Are you questioning my abilities now?”

“You’re from a race of pacifists, aren’t you? Non-violent? Do you really think you can get better results than a trained professional?”

“Trained professional?” Jason’s eyes narrowed, his expression hardening as the officer continued to glare smugly at him. “Don’t try my patience, Captain. You do not want me to lose my temper,” he said warningly.

“Oh, I’m scared.”

This was the final straw. Without warning, Jason took the officer by the throat and slammed him back into the wall. The Alterran’s bright blue eyes were practically glowing with his outrage. “You should be, you condescending bastard!”

It was all too obvious to the watching Eroica that Jason was controlling himself with considerable effort. It seemed as though the Prince had to force himself to release his grip on the man’s throat.

“Now, get out!” Jason’s voice dropped in pitch as he added coldly, “Get out before I kill you.”

The Captain blanched visibly. This was no idle threat. This supposedly non-violent Alterran Prince had a grip like iron and had been within a hairsbreadth of snapping his neck. He also still had his gun in his hand. Without another word, the officer fled the room.

Eroica felt a chill run down his spine as the Prince ordered the man out, his voice sounding as if it came from the depths of hell. The glowing blue eyes were slowly turned in his direction and he flinched, afraid of what this demon was about to do to him. The “demon” seemed to sense his panic and closed his eyes, taking a moment to get control of himself. When he opened his eyes again, they were no longer glowing and his face had softening considerably.

“Did he hurt you?” Jason asked gently.

“Yes…no…I…I’ll recover,” Eroica stammered out shakily.

Jason smiled and then turned to the mind probe operator, who was still cowering on the floor. “Out,” he ordered, sending the man scurrying to the exit.

Jason looked at his bewildered and awestruck aide, who was still standing outside the door and feeling very grateful that he had not been on the receiving end of any of what he had just witnessed. “Rosewood, have someone not connected with that…barbarian sent up here. I’m going to need an escort.”

Rosewood gave a slight bow. “Yes, sir.” He gave Eroica a questioning look. “And this gentleman?”

“Lord Gloria is staying with me.”

Eroica gave the Alterran a frightened look. “I am?”

“Would you rather go with the Captain?”

“No. But am I any safer with you?”

Jason could not help but smile at this. “Considerably.” He turned his attention to the next room, where the Major lay unconscious on the couch. He made certain the mind probe console was completely deactivated, firing another laser bolt into it and then finishing up by ripping the control circuit from its slot.

Eroica reluctantly followed his rescuer as far as the door and then stopped, uncertain as to his status. Was he really this lunatic’s guest? Or his prisoner?

Jason carefully removed the mind probe helmet and then checked the unconscious officer’s condition. “Talk to me, Major.” He put a hand under the Major’s chin and slapped him on the cheek. “Come on. Come back to us…”

Klaus opened his eyes slightly, muttered something, and closed them again.

Much to the amazement of the watching Eroica, Jason suddenly switched from English to German. “Klaus! Come on, Klaus, talk to me!” He commanded, slapping the officer’s face harder. “Better yet, swear at me.”

The Major continued to mutter incoherently.

Jason threw a quick glance over at the control room, seeing the concerned and frightened Eroica still hovering reluctantly in the doorway. “Dorian, talk to him,” he said, effortlessly switching back to English. “He knows your voice.”

Eroica was torn between demanding to know how this individual knew so much about them, and helping to revive the semi-conscious Klaus. He chose the latter, concluding that the Major would no doubt be demanding answers the instant he was lucid.

Crossing the room, he asked, “What do I say?”

“Tell him that you love him,” Jason replied startlingly.

Eroica stopped dead. “What?”

“He needs to fight his way back.”

“He’ll do more than fight his way back, if I tell him that. He’ll take a swing at me.”

“Then it’s a good thing he’s still strapped down, isn’t it?” Jason said aridly. “He needs to fight and the best way to do that is to get him mad. That isn’t too hard with him, as I recall.”

“How do you know that?” Eroica demanded. “Look, just who are you? How do you know us?”

“Not now, Dorian!” Jason snapped impatiently, turning his attention back to the Major.

Eroica wasn’t sure if it was the tone, the phrase, or just his general manner, but suddenly he knew who the Alterran Prince was. “Jason…” he said in a small voice. “They said…you were Prince Jason.”

Jason looked up, a small smile on his face. “Does that mean you’re going to start hitting on me now?”

“Bloody hell, it is you! But…it can’t be.”

“I didn’t think I’d changed that much.”

“Changed! The last time I saw you, you looked like an overgrown porcelain figurine.”

“Can this wait until after we’ve revived the Major?” Jason asked practically.

Eroica blinked and then pulled himself together. He sized up the situation and drew a deep breath. “You really want me to make him angry?”

“The madder, the better.”

“Alright. But you’d better tell him this was your idea.” Eroica sat down on the couch and leaned close to the Major’s ear. “Major, can you hear me? Will you hit me, if I tell you I love you?” He received an unintelligible grunt in reply.

Eroica stroked the Major’s cheek. “You really are a work of art. Shall I kiss you, my sleeping beauty?”

The Major opened his eyes slightly and gave the thief an unfocused look.

“It’s working, keep going,” Jason encouraged.

Eroica leaned down to give the Major a kiss and was stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder.

“I said talk to him,” Jason said warningly.

“Spoilsport.”

“I’ll let him hit you.”

“Fine.”

Eroica laid across the Major’s chest and continued to gently stroke his cheek. “It’s too bad we’re in Russia. The summer would be so much nicer at Castle Gloria, don’t you think? Or Schloss Eberbach. All that lovely mountain air…” He had to stifle a giggle at his jib at the less than mountainous location of the Schloss, but it had the desired affect.

“What foppish nonsense…” the Major muttered groggily.

A delighted grin spread across Jason’s face and he motioned for the thief to keep going.

“Major Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach. The infamous Iron Klaus. Bane of the KGB, Neo Nazis, and international spy networks,” Eroica whispered seductively. “Finally, I have you where I want you.”

The Major struggled to focus his eyes, finding the weight on his chest to be Eroica lying on top of him. He stared at the enormous blue eyes in horror, his mind unable to take in what he was seeing.

“I have you in my power, Major,” Eroica cooed softly, fluttering his eyelashes.

Klaus stared for a full ten seconds before he finally exploded. “Get off me, you bloody faggot!” When he tried to push Eroica away, he discovered he was still strapped down and started to struggle. “Let me out of this thing so I can kill you!” He went on to issue a stream of curses in German.

Eroica grinned and looked up at Jason. “Success, I think.”

“What are you talking about?” the Major demanded, still struggling unsuccessfully to free himself. “And get off of me, you Goddamn pervert!” A sudden thought struck him and stopped struggling, giving Eroica a stricken look. “What have you been doing to me while I was unconscious?”

“Nothing unseemly, Major,” Jason replied calmly as he started removing the officer’s bindings. “A mind probe can scramble one’s brain permanently. Dorian was just helping me bring you back to reality.”

“How? By having him molest me?”

“No, by getting you angry, which in your case isn’t all that difficult.”

Jason finished unfastening the restraints and took the Major by the arm, pulling him to a sitting position before he knew what was happening. He gave the officer a moment to regain his equilibrium and then looked him in the eye. “Major, I’m telling you right now, you’re not going to be able to walk on your own. So, you have one of two choices. You can either let me help you, or let me carry you.”

“Or I could,” Eroica offered happily.

Klaus threw an angry look in Eroica’s direction. After what had just happened, he did not want the faggot anywhere near him. He turned back to his rescuer. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded as forcefully as he could manage.

“I’m Jason Krystovan,” the Prince replied simply. “I used to travel with the Doctor in the TARDIS. The last time we met was in 1983 in Iceland.”

“Iceland?” Klaus put a hand to his head. His mind was still fuzzy, but he recalled the incident vividly. Jason had saved his life and he had gone on to return the favor. “The mission on the glacier?”

“Yes.”

The Major gave the Alterran an unfocused look. As with Eroica, the last time he had seen Jason, he was recovering from a sonic attack and was snow white from head to foot, his body covered with tiny fracture lines. “Why…? How…?”

Jason grinned. “One step at a time. First, let’s get you two somewhere safe.”

“Then take us out of this building.”

“Why?”

“We aren’t safe anywhere in KGB Headquarters.”

Jason nodded. “A fair point,” he agreed. “But you’re not in KGB Headquarters. Not anymore.” He did not wait for a reply. He put one of the Major’s arms over his shoulder and then pulled him to his feet, having to support nearly all of his weight.

Klaus wanted to protest, but realized he was too weak to give any kind of effective resistance. He was having a difficult time just focusing his thoughts, his legs felt like rubber, and he desperately needed a cigarette. He chose instead to simply go along with what his apparent rescuer said until he was strong enough to fight back.

Jason looked up to see Eroica staring in horror across the room. He followed his gaze, seeing Sully standing in the doorway, an enormous grin on his face and an even more enormous laser rifle in his hands.

“Don’t panic, Dorian. That’s my pilot,” the Prince said mildly before addressing the man at the door. “Sully, what on Earth, literally, are you doing here? And where the hell did you get that cannon?”

“Rosewood said you wanted someone not connected with Earth security. Well, that’s me. He also said you needed an escort. I figured that meant you’d be heading to the ARGO.”

“You figured right,” came the relieved reply. “To the ARGO, if you please.”

The pilot flashed a bright smile before turning on his heel to lead the way out of the room.

“What is the ARGO?” the Major asked as forcefully as he could. “Where are you taking us?”

“The ARGO is my ship. I’ll be able to check you over better once we’re there.” Jason felt the Major’s body stiffen in response to this and could not help but laugh. “Major,” he said quietly, “I’m a Healer. My interest in your body is strictly professional.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” the Major replied shakily. “So was that Captain’s.”

Eroica gave a small cry. “Major, was that an actual joke?” he gasped playfully.

The Major gave him a dark look. “Idiot.”

“No such luck,” Jason replied amusedly. “I think his brain is still too scrambled.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better, either,” the Major rejoined. This time, he allowed a small smile to come to his face.

* * *

CHAPTER EIGHT

Director Chebrikov’s Office
The Lubyanka
Moscow, Soviet Union
August 1987

The Doctor and Turlough arrived at KGB Headquarters to find it in chaos. The death of Ivanov and disappearance of Iron Klaus had turned everything on its head and the powers that be were scrambling to keep a lid on things as well as cover their political asses.

The Doctor and his companion were taken to the Director Chebrikov’s office to learn that he had already been informed as to the reason for their visit—more or less. The Doctor found it amusing that, in order not to raise the suspicions of the already suspicious KGB, the Director had been informed that the pair had been moles within the British scientific community who had recently been extracted so as not to “rock the boat” in the furtherance of the General Secretary’s new policies.

Then the mess with Iron Klaus had gone and upset the apple cart.

“You’re a day late, Comrade Doctor,” the Director said gravely.

“I don’t understand?” the Doctor replied, exchanging a bewildered look with Turlough.

“The equipment you came to investigate h