A moments rest...

“Now what?” I muttered under my breath as I fumbled around for a light source. I found the flashlight I’d used back in the basement before the time jump and flicked it on. I aimed it around my surroundings.
“Broom cupboard. Great. Where the smeg is everyone else?” I thought, and in hindsight, probably rather foolishly I reached for the door handle and stepped out – still in my 18th century garb into a stark white, windowless corridor.
“What the hell is this place? A ship?”
If it WAS a ship, it definitely wasn’t the one we were aiming for. No…not a ship at all. I couldn’t feel the tell-tale vibration of the deck plate, and while the hum of the air-conditioning sounded very like the life support systems, the low, near – but not quite – silent rumble of the engines was missing.
Unless, of course, the ship was dead in the water…
I reached out and touched the wall. Concrete. Definitely not a ship.
“Who are you? How did you get in here?” a voice said from behind. I wheeled around, one hand over my gun to see a man in a white coat looking for all the world like he’d seen a ghost. “INTRUDER!!” he yelled, and grabbed an alarm trigger, yanking it down. The corridor was filled with a loud klaxon, and I almost instantly heard the sound of soldiers, marching quickly along the corridor.
Wherever I was. I wasn’t welcome.
I ran down the corridor, in the opposite direction from where the footsteps were coming from and took the very next left, I kept running, another left, right, left again, right, right, until turned one last corner and found myself facing a small, but well armed squad of soldiers.
They didn’t even hesitate, just raised their assault rifles immediately, I dived behind the only cover I could find, a janitors cart, and drew my pistols.
I could hear the soldiers approaching, so had to play this right.
I cocked my guns, and leant out around the side of the cart, keeping low to the ground and fired of several rounds, landing shots in the kneecaps of the squad.
To be honest, I still wasn’t totally convinced by Cass’s claims back in 1794 that anything we did would re-set the minute we left. That certainly wasn’t the case when I was in the STCP, so if I could avoid killing anyone here I would.
The troops dropped the ground, and I got up and ran. One reached for his gun that he’d dropped as he fell, but I just managed to reach it first, pick it up, and sling it over my shoulder before he was able to. I turned another corner, and burst through a door, which led into some kind of airlock. The inner door was locked, looked like it need a security card, so I smashed the card reader with the butt of the marines rifle, causing the inner door to swing open.
Men in contamination suits turned to stare at me, wide eyed and in shock. I ignored them and made a dash for a door at the other end of the room, running past some large tubes that looked like they contained some kind of alien. Not a species I’d ever met, mind, but it made me start to wonder what kind of place this was.

I reached the opposite door, which was also locked, so I busted the lock on this one too, not really noticing the second alarm that was sounding and darted through into another corridor. I ducked back into the airlock as I saw another squad of marines march past at an intersection ahead at speed. Satisfied that I hadn’t been seen, I ran up the corridor and caught sight of an open door.
I ducked inside, and realised I was in, whatever this place was’s barracks. Yanking open a cupboard door I found an uniform, that bore the markings of the old US Air force and quickly removed my 18th century clothes and pulled on the uniform. There was an ID card there too. The guy didn’t look much like me, so I had to hope no-one would pay that much heed and I could get around reasonably un-noticed.
I snuck back out of the room, and headed back along the corridor, looking for a way out of this place. A few squads of marines dashing past me more than once as I explored. Eventually I found a door leading to a stairwell. I went through, and started heading down, until I realised that the signs suggested that I had to go up to reach the ground level. So up I went, running up more flights of stairs than I ever climbed in my life up until now. Must have been at least 50 stories underground, until eventually, I reached a set of double doors at the top of the last flight of stairs, the narrow windows set in the doors letting in natural light.
I burst out through the door, briefly glancing at the sign that on it that said “US Air force base: Groom Lake (Area 51)” and emerged on an airfield.
“WHO ARE YOU?” asked a man to my right. “Show me your I.D.”
I unclipped the ID badge from my chest and held it out toward the man, before wrapping my hand around it in a fist and punching him hard in the jaw knocking him the ground.
I had to get out here fast, and I headed toward an aircraft hangar. The main door was open, and I spotted an attack helicopter just inside. Perfect.
I climbed into the open cockpit and, skipping the usual pre-flight checks, started the engine and taxied out of the hangar. I took off, and headed at full speed, eastwards. I didn’t know where the hell I was going, as long as it was away.
I’d not been in the air long before the choppers instruments warned me that something was incoming.
Fuckers had scrambled jets after me. What the hell WAS that place anyway?
They’d be on me before I knew it, and they were. Missile lock. I pulled back on the control stick and pulled the chopper into a wide loop – not something choppers were usually very keen to do – and the missile followed by both jets rocketed under me as I passed overhead, upside down. I righted the chopper and opened fire with the machine guns, shooting down both the missile on it’s return journey and riddling the left wing of one jet with holes. The pilot ejected. The jet went down, landing in the desert below before exploding. The second jet was strafing around now, I had to shake it somehow. I spotted a large ravine in the desert floor below, and sent the helicopter in a nosedive toward it. I followed this, grand canyon, for a while, before it narrowed briefly under an overhang, I slipped between the two sides, the rotors just barely missing the sides, the jet rolling onto it’s side and following me through the gap.
It thundered past, not realised I’d ducked sideways, using the overhanging rock to hide as it moved through. I opened fire again, ripping through the wing once more and sending the jet spiralling downwards, it’s pilot ejecting as well.
I ascended out of the canyon, and landed in a nearby car park outside of what looked like a tourist facility overlooking the enormous canyon.
I clambered out of the helicopter, and ignored the foreign-accented man asking me I wanted a “Car wash sir?” and cast my eye over the vehicles in the car park. Family saloons, estate cars and hatchbacks littered the place, but there was one car I liked the look of, a classic Mustang.
I glanced around, making sure I wasn’t being watched and broke the drivers side window with elbow and pulled up the door lock, opening the door and clambering in.
Hotwiring the car, I started the engine and pulled away, heading back toward the brightly lit city I’d flown over on my escape from the air force base.
I’d find a place to lie low, and work out how to find the others…

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