NNL Hangar February 9, 12:30 hrs.

“Frank, here's the last of the intel on the Dark Moon Group, these SOB's have been planning this cock and bull revolution of theirs for close to ten years. The group has connections all over the world, in every social class.” Ramsey shrugged but didn't finish. The chrononaut sped read the file on DMG, including their manifesto outlining the re-districting of every country across the globe. Frank let a low, surprised whistle at some of the ideas put forth.

“They've thought about this for a while.” All the top-secret agent could do was shake his head. People are crazy.

“The DMG's leader is a businessman, Chase Harper, from Knott County, Kentucky. His criminal record is as clear as a bell. Profiling tells us that he is intelligent, charming, single minded and very persuasive. He knows how to lead people.” Talmadge added. The three finished the briefing while Jarod and the team finished modifications to the Sphere. It was a challenge to work with Major Charles, Miss Parker and MP's hanging off his elbows. Ballard didn't mind it, he got to see Miss Parker up close.

By three o'clock the Sphere was up and running. Frank had packed his gear and said good-bye to his friends. Isaac Mentnor came to the control tower to see the launch. He knew Frank would reverse the DMG's damage but he hoped Frank knowing about his parents had made some amends for the wrong done him so long ago.

Suited up, hands poised on the joy stick, Frank finished his pre-flight checks and the tower began counting down to launch when he heard the Sphere door open and Jarod's face appear. Looking over, he saw the control tower in chaos. Major Charles and Dr. Mentnor were taking over. Isaac worked the controls while the Major held a gun on the team.

“We thought we'd arrange a going away present for you, Frank.” Mentnor's voice came through the communications system.

“You all are crazier than I am.” The chrononaut shook his head, still watching the read outs for launch. He didn't know if the Sphere would take off with Jarod's added mass. Frank crossed his fingers and said a silent prayer. With its usual head-splitting, nose-bleeding intensity the Sphere was off. Jarod desperately hung on, buckling himself into the spare seat. He didn't know how Frank did it. The chrononaut had been on over forty successful missions and after every one he came back, one week older, minus a layer of skin, bleeding from his eyes and frazzled. Jarod felt like he could barely keep from being pulled apart like a wish bone. Literally and metaphorically, both me saw stars as they shot toward the atmosphere. For a brief moment the Sphere hung just outside Earth. Everything stopped for Frank as he hung on to the joy stick. He saw a young Isaac Mentnor and a young Jarod. Scenes the chrononaut couldn't possibly have seen before snapped like camera flash bulbs in front of his eyes. Two boys played with a kite. A smiling red headed woman watched, joined by a man in an Air Force uniform. Then the scene changed to a gray, open area with cameras and an aura of oppression and fear. Behind him, Frank found Jarod passed out in the spare seat. An upward motion of the Sphere brought Lt. Parker back to the mission at hand. Gravity, G-force, centrifugal force or whatever took Frank and Jarod by the scruff of the neck, putting them down on a plateau of land left behind after mountain top removal. Frank unfastened himself and struggled to open the Sphere door. Frigid gusts blew across the chrononaut's face. The initial refreshment wore off quickly. Tall grasses covered the immediate area. Starkly barren trees covered the mountains as far as the eye could see in every direction. A ragged cough from the Sphere brought Frank's brain back on track. It took several minutes to get the Pretender to his feet. Like Frank, he came through battered and bleeding.

“You must be one hell of a man, Jarod, as far as I know I'm the only chrononaut to make it through in one piece.” Quickly, Frank slipped the oxygen mask over Jarod's face and fished out the First Aid kit. To the best of his ability, the military man tended his friend's cuts and scrapes.

“How far did we go back, do you know?” Jarod asked as soon as he became able. His watch had died in all the chaos.

“There's no way to tell until we get off this rock heap and back to what passes for civilization around here.” Eventually the pair picked themselves up and began walking along a gravel road meandering off the stripped mountain top. It took a quarter mile of walking before Jarod's head quit spinning like a washing machine with tennis shoes inside. Two teenage boys on four wheelers found Jarod and Frank walking. Both men were glad to see them. Within thirty minutes Frank and Jarod had pulled up outside a small pizzeria outside Hindman, Kentucky.

“I'm starving.” Frank announced as he pulled open the restaurant door. He flashed a charming smile at the middle aged lady behind the register of the Hurry Hut. Her worn, brown eyes flashed a little life when she saw the two, tall, dark, athletic, drool-worthy men walk up to the counter. She let out a sharp, urgent whistle to the girls working the kitchen behind her.

“Shouldn't we call in to NNL, Frank?” The Pretender wondered aloud.

“Ramsey would have a field day when I tried to explain you, Buddy.” The chrononaut ordered a large, meat topped pizza and a Pepsi. Just the smell of the restaurant made Jarod's stomach want to reverse course.

“How do you eat spicy, grease covered, high carbohydrate, food and a preservative laden, caffeine hyped, soft drink after what we went through?” The Pretender asked turning a little green around the gills. With a sly smile Frank shrugged.

“Cast iron stomach, years of bad, army food I guess.” A few locals came in to the Hurry Hut to buysandwiches and Pepsi products. They eyed Frank and Jarod suspiciously. Neither man looked like they fit in around Hindman. They weren't jean clad coal miners or Wal-Mart brand, local professionals. A 'foreigner' could be spotted a mile away in the Appalachian coal town.

“Can I get you fellers anything else?” The lady behind the register asked after delivering Frank's pizza. Jarod asked for a bottled water. With an extra wiggle to her walk, the waitress walked back to the kitchen area of the small pizzeria. All three, female workers stared at their guests. Frank kept one eye on the youngest waitress and one on the restaurant door.

“Where do you go from here?” The Pretender asked, nursing his water while watching Frank wolf down a slice of pizza.

“Little towns have big ears, Einstein.” The chrononaut shook his head. Jarod gave him a narrow eyed look of annoyance. Neither man spoke again until after they'd finished eating.

“Is there a pay phone nearby?” Frank winked at the tall, athletic, brunette waitress he'd been watching.

“Around the side of the building.” Her blue eyes hid behind high cheek bones. The chrononaut flashed a wickedly handsome smile and walked out.

“Our target will know we're in town in less than fifteen minutes.” Frank spoke almost imperceptibly as he walked around the pizzeria. Cars whizzed past the brick building from the late 60's. Less than ten feet separated the Hurry Hut patron's vehicles from oncoming traffic. Jarod spied the young waitress in a car window, on the phone.

“Less than that.” Jarod added. Frank dialed a very long distance number at the antiquated pay phone.

“Conundrum.” Jarod's head shot up at the puzzle synonym. How Angelo knew about conundrum was beyond the genius. The way Angelo knew before anyone else seemed nearly mystic to the Pretender.

Frank requested a black ops squad led by Donovan, to neutralize Chase Harper and his head quarters. The chrononaut filled Talmadge in on the global threat quickly, laying out only the bare bones. Donovan would be on a jet within fifteen minutes.

“Well, that gives us some time to find a place to put you.” The chrononaut smiled at Jarod, thinking about what Ramsey would say if he only knew what had really gone on in the previous time line.

Roaming the streets of Hindman, it's buildings clinging like vine to the mountain, the strangers found an incredibly tiny, coal town. Very little went on along the few, narrow streets as Frank and Jarod walked, trying to stay warm. February in Kentucky is colder and wetter than February in Nevada. The only green vegetation in sight were holly and pine trees among the barren, hardwood growth, balls of mistletoe dotting the highest branches.

“I bet it was great, seeing your father after so long.” Frank sighed, stopping on a cement bridge named after a local person of importance. A nostalgia drifted over his angular features as he stared at the antifreeze green water below.

“It was a dream come true, for so long I've ran from the Centre, searching for my parents, my brother, myself, to get to see my father made the journey worth it.” Jarod smiled.

“My parents could be out there, just like yours, maybe I have cousins or grandparents.” Frank turned, flashing a grin, which didn't quite reach his eyes.

“I hope you find them.” Jarod let a hopeful smile fill his features as he leaned against the cement railing along the bridge span.

Scene Break

February 2 Post Backstep Hindman, Kentucky Chase Harper's business.

Fat, wet snowflakes began to smack the window of the two story, brick building. Chase sat on the edge of his desk, a hot, Styrofoam cup of coffee in one hand.

“We must move forward with the plan, Omar, the sound wave technology is already in place for the attack.” Chase gripped the coffee tightly, threatening to crush the flimsy container.

“The plan must wait, Mr. Harper, now is not the right time, politically speaking.” Harper saw red right then. With a clenched fist, he sent the computer screen flying across his office. “To hell with politicians, that's what's wrong with the world today.” The Arab extremest on the other side of the world saw a blur of color and then nothing on his computer's plasma screen. He muttered something unflattering about Harper's mother in Arabic before turning off his web cam. The Arab knew the Kentuckian would proceed with the attack regardless of the consequence.

“Josh, get our operatives on the horn, tell 'em we're movin' on the plan.” The boss shouted across the storage space that housed a cache of weapons, explosives and assault gear. With a quick slap of computer keys, the glasses clad, white male pulled up a list of operatives' code names and contact information. One phone call and the Dark Moon Group's tech guy would start a call ring. One operative called another operative who alerted another and so on. Round, baby blue eyes flew up when the door beside him splintered and blew in. Men in army fatigues, carrying M4's filed in, filling the space. The tech guy didn't resist detainment. Chase Harper was caught trying to slide down a gutter pipe. Four, Kentucky-based operatives were captured and a list of others found. International intelligence agencies scooped up Dark Moon Group operatives all over the world. Jarod watched the whole she-bang from the laundromat across the street.

It could never be told how many people in Hindman knew about the Dark Moon Group. It was a close knit, clan-like community. Whatever bad blood went on among the locals was fine, but a foreigner had the whole place to fight if they bothered even the worst scum. Times may have changed, hemlines rose to dental floss lingerie, major interstates crisscrossed the mountains, but attitudes remained the same.

Scene Break

NNL February 3 Post Backstep

Ballard read the read out for the third time, the math still not adding up. With the modifications' specs by the amount of time the Sphere had traveled, none of it made sense.

“Frank, are you certain nothing went wrong, you should have gone back another one point five days.” The blurry eyed scientist asked, a red lollipop twirling between his fingers as he sat looking at the long rolls of the Sphere's blueprints laid on a work bench in the hangar where the team worked on the blue ball.

“As far as I could tell it was a smooth back step, John. Maybe Dr. Seaborg was just wrong or something.” Frank shrugged, leaning against an instrument panel. The scientist shook his head, not believing the chrononaut. From what John Ballard saw, Dr. Seaborg's work was meticulous- unerring.

“Look what was just delivered.” Olga walked up to her colleagues carrying a box. An alien head, Pez dispenser had a tag on it with Frank's name written in simple, bold, hand writing. It's yellow eyes stared at him, emotionless.

“Hmm, interesting.” Ballard's eyes beamed with shiny curiosity. The redheaded scientist pulled a yellow rose from the box and found the attached card written in perfect Russian. Translating, Olga read; A symbol of friendship. Until we meet for the first time, Jarod.

“This is lovely.” The lady scientist smelled the fresh rose, her eyes closed and a smile pulling at her cinnamon lips. The chrononaut watched her as she enjoyed the simple flower sent to her. Frank wished he knew how to make her smile so easily. He just didn't have the knack. Frank Parker let Olga have her moment, knowing no matter who came and went through their lives, he would do anything to protect her, love her.

“Parker, you have sunk to the bottom this time.” Ramsey's brassy voice filled the high ceilinged hangar as he came stomping across the cement floor, two guards in tow.

“What's going on, Frank?” Olga pursed her lips, looking at him like a reproachful teacher.

“My office is what.” The bantam chief of security led the science crew to his office. A wooden statue of a dime store Indian stood by the front door. Ramsey's chair had been replaced with an Egyptian throne, behind it hung the British Union Jack. Opening the door activated a recording of the Canadian National Anthem. Dozens of Chinese lanterns hung from the ceiling tiles. Not one United States flag could be seen in Ramsey's office. Every surface was covered with symbols of other countries. A life sized picture of Ramsey had been stood up in the back corner and dressed in a Mexican sombrero and draped with a poncho. In the Egyptian throne sat a case of fine, Russian Vodka.

“Looks like the damn United Nations moved into my office.” Ramsey pounded the desk with one fist. “I don't know how you did it, Parker, but I know you're behind this.” The patriotic chief of security was fit to be tied. Olga's hid her mouth, trying to stifle a laugh. Frank smiled confidently. The mischievous chrononaut wasn't behind it, Jarod had arranged the whole gag. He could just imagine the Pretender smiling devilishly, a Pez between his teeth.

“Ramsey, I see you've redecorated.” Bradley Talmadge stood in the doorway, his slate colored eyes shining in barely hidden mirth. “It's refreshing.” The glare Ramsey sent his boss would have stopped an eight day clock after just three seconds.

“One of these days, Parker, I'm gonna get you off this base and back to that asylum, where you belong.”

“And until then, Ramsey, keep dreaming.” Frank leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, smiling.

Scene Break

The Centre February 3

Broots carried the box he'd found in his passenger seat that morning to Sydney's office. How Jarod had gotten into his garage was still beyond the computer genius. He had it both manually locked, and electronically censored.

“Hey, Sydney, have you seen Miss Parker this morning?” Broots asked, sipping his hot chocolate.

“Broots!” That one, barked word might as well have jerked a knot in the man's tail. Two-thirds of his hot, hot chocolate splashed down his white sweater.

“Ouch! Miss Parker,” He threw the rest of the cup into Sydney's trash can.

“Need a bib there, Broots?” The Ice Princess strutted into the small office with a triumphant smile.

“No.” Broots pouted, annoyed at his tormentor. “I found this on my passenger seat this morning.” He pointed toward the heavy, ten gallon box sitting on Sydney's desk.

“A secret admirer,” Miss Parker smirked, “Get a life.”

“Again, no, it's from Jarod.” Sometimes he wondered how long he could keep taking the brunt of Miss Parker's razor sharp tongue. If a dirty job had to be done, Broots drew the short straw every time.

“Open it!” Miss Parker hissed, her hands on her narrow hips, navy dress jacket pushed back to show off her willowy, dancer's figure in ice blue silk. Using a letter opener, Broots sliced open the tape sealing the red box. It was level full of sand, pure, tan sand. A single string attached to the lid uncoiled as the tech guy slowly pulled at the lid.

“I wonder what Jarod's up to this time?” Sydney watched Broots pull the string. Out came a black and white picture of Mr. Parker, an alien and another man. As Broots pulled the string more items came out. Like charms on a bracelet, a picture, news paper articles and security clearances dangled from the six foot length of white twine. When the phone rang Sydney answered, instinctively knowing it would be Jarod.

“Hello, Sydney, reading anything interesting this morning?” Miss Parker and Broots took up positions on either side of the speaker phone.

“Broots brought in the box he found on his car's passenger seat. I see you found a picture of a young Mr. Parker.” As always, Sydney was in no hurry to delve into Jarod's reasoning.

“Where did you get this picture of my father and this Area 51 left over, Jarod?” Impatient, Miss Parker didn't let the Pretender answer his mentor.

“Now Miss Parker, that's top secret.” He baited her for an explosive response.

“Damn it, Jarod, why can't you ever just come out with it, why keep sending us these teasers?” She growled at him, wishing she could get he hands around his neck.

“And why do you keep a butterfly knife in the heel of those dress boots you're wearing today?” Miss Parker looked down at the very expensive, black boots she'd had custom made for carrying a concealed weapon in.

“How do you know what I'm wearing, Jarod?” The high tempered, Centre operative demanded, feeling unsettled at his intimate knowledge of her wardrobe.

“Say hello to Cooper for me when you get to NNL.” Jarod hung up as abruptly as ever, leaving the team hanging.

“Broots, find out what NNL is.” Miss Parker sent the tech guy off on the errand before turning to Sydney. As usual, they were on the wrong path to catching the genius. Jarod ran like a fox, leading them in circles as Miss Parker played the hound.

While Miss Parker and the team tracked down NNL, Isaac Mentnor and Project Back Step, Jarod moved on to his next Pretend and a meeting with his father they'd arranged in the previous time line. Father and son took all the time they wanted, getting reacquainted with each other.

The End