by
Angie Chandler

Beta-read by Jayelle Carey

A vortex opened and spat out five weary travelers.  As they struggled to their feet and checked their immediate surroundings, two of their number could clearly be heard squabbling.

"For the last time, Mr. Brown.  Kindly avoid plowing into me the next time we slide."

As Quinn rolled his eyes at Wade, Rembrandt replied, "You know, I don't do it on purpose, Professor."  More quietly he added, "You just make such a good target, and a soft landing to boot."

Wade, who'd overheard Rembrandt's last remark, tried not to giggle.  She slipped her arm through Arturo's and said, "Come on, Professor.  We can relax now.  No more of Rembrandt's followers."

"We can only hope," grumbled Arturo.

"Hey!" objected Rembrandt.  "I was enjoying them, even if my double was some sort of athletics star."

Maggie sighed.  "Let's get moving.  We need to scope out this world properly."

Quinn groaned.  "Tomorrow please, Maggie."

Maggie raised her eyebrow at him.

"Come on, guys.  I desperately need a shower," called Quinn, trying to hurry them along before Maggie could drag them all off on some expedition.

"And don't we know it!" commented Wade.

Quinn shrugged and continued towards The Dominion, to tired to join in.

"Well, I'm going to have a look around now.  I'll meet you lot at the Dominion later," insisted Maggie, already leaving the rest of them behind.

-----

Booking into the hotel was simple on this world, much to the sliders' relief.  So, they were soon in their suite relaxing and recuperating from the previous world.

"How long are we here, Q-ball?" asked Rembrandt, remembering that no one had mentioned it.

"About 6 weeks," replied Quinn, who was half asleep on the sofa.

"At last a long stay; the chance to obtain some money and finally relax," smiled Arturo.

"Unless a certain someone goes hunting for his double's fans again," added Wade.

"I can't help it if they found me irresistible," chuckled Rembrandt.  "I didn't need to go lookin'."

"I'm just glad it's over.  All that screaming," groaned Wade.

"Quite right, Miss Wells.  I for one intend to spend this first evening here fast asleep.  Considering the talent of certain members of this team for getting into trouble, I suggest we would all be best served by a good night's sleep.  Before anything untoward happens."  Arturo lay back on his bed happily.  "Not a single screaming woman to be heard," he mumbled.

As Arturo began to snore contentedly, Rembrandt whispered to Wade, "I think I preferred the screaming."

Nonetheless, they were all tired, and soon all four of them were peacefully sleeping.

-----

Maggie marched purposefully around the deserted streets of San Francisco.  She had covered quite a distance already  But even though it wasn't all that late, she hadn't seen a single person.  Something inside her warned her to be cautious, this was a little too strange.  *There's something not quite right about this place.  No way it should be this quiet,* she thought.

Suddenly she felt a tap on her shoulder.

"Hey, you," a young soldier turned her round forcibly, shining a light in her face.  "What..."  His jaw dropped.  "Captain Beckett."

"Yes?" asked Maggie.

"Err.  Sorry, sir.  I didn't realize it was you, sir."

"At ease," said Maggie, trying to work out precisely what was going on, and how to get this grunt to tell her without arousing his suspicion.  The soldier relaxed momentarily, then abruptly drew to attention.  Afterwards, Maggie realized she should've guessed what was coming.

"So, Captain Beckett.  Back in the country, I see," said a familiar voice.

"Yes, sir."  Maggie straightened and saluted.

Colonel Rickman eyed her suspiciously.  "I expect a full report on my desk in the morning."

"Yes, sir!"  Maggie prayed he wouldn't ask her any difficult questions until she'd had time to work a few things out.  Her own version of Rickman had known her far too well.

"Well, shall we be heading back then, Captain.  Leave these men to their jobs," ordered Rickman.

"Yes, sir," replied Maggie, seeing little alternative.  Inwardly she cursed.  It was terrible luck for her to run into Rickman like that, and for him to know her double.  On the other hand, at least her double hadn't shown up and proved that Maggie was an impostor, yet.

The next morning, Maggie woke early.  She looked around at the eerily familiar surroundings.  This particular version of herself was obviously very much like her.  Seeing a phone, she took the opportunity to call the others and explain where she was.  There was no knowing what she might get landed with today, especially as she still had to create some sort of phoney report for Rickman with little or no background knowledge of what was going on.  She had quite a bit of research ahead of her.  Trying to imagine where she would store any relevant documents, Maggie began to search her double's quarters carefully.

-----

"Wakey wakey, everyone.  Rise and shine," Quinn shouted to the others, opening the curtains so that the sun came streaming in.

"Quinn, just because you woke up early, you had to share with the rest of us.  Thank you," groaned Wade.

"My pleasure."  Quinn grinned down at her.

"Q-ball, I'm gonna kill you, man.  There I was, sharin' this incredible fantasy with..... well.  And you go and shatter it."  Rembrandt glared at him.

"Sorry, man.  Next time I get a proper bed, then I won't feel obliged to wake up early," Quinn responded.  Actually, he had a good night's sleep and felt ready to take on pretty much anything, but he couldn't resist dropping the odd hint.

"Mr. Mallory, you are a sadist," grumbled Arturo, determined to get his two-pen'orth.

"Yep," grinned Quinn.  "Time to go get ourselves jobs."

"Wonderful, just what I needed this time in the morning," mumbled Rembrandt sleepily.

"I do have some good news," added Quinn.

"What?  You're movin' out?" asked Rembrandt.

"I got breakfast," he announced.  "Oh, and Maggie called."

"Yeah?  Where is she?" asked Rembrandt.

"Apparently she ran into a double of Rickman last night and had a little difficulty talking her way out of it.  She says it's fine, though.  She can handle it," replied Quinn.

"I suspect we should probably respect her judgement," suggested Arturo.  "And return to the matter of breakfast."

"I'm with you, man," agreed Rembrandt.

Quinn and Wade nodded, Maggie was particularly good at taking care of herself.

-----

Barely half an hour later, the four of them hit the streets.

"Seems normal enough," yawned Wade.

"Yeah?  Just you wait," muttered Rembrandt.

"No, I agree, Miss Wells.  This world seems normal enough for our purposes.  In which case..." Arturo paused for dramatic effect, "my job seeking efforts would be best served by a visit to the university."  Arturo smiled, apparently feeling very pleased with himself.  "I shall see you later."  With that he strode off, leaving the others to consider their own plans.

"Well, in that case, if this world is like our own, I should be a beloved celebrity," beamed Rembrandt, suddenly less annoyed to have been waken.  "I'm off to find my agent."

"What about you, Quinn?" asked Wade, watching Rembrandt leave.

"Oh, I dunno.  I think I'll just find some menial job this time.  I could do with a little time to relax, chill out."  Quinn shrugged happily.

"I'll see you later then," smiled Wade.  "I think I'm going to see if Doppler has got anything going."

Quinn watched her go, then sauntered down the road, casually looking for vacancies as he went.

-----

Arturo arrived at the university still in good spirits.  He strode purposefully into the halls, seeking to find any possible vacancies for a professor of physics.  As he did so, he noticed the alarming amount of attention he was attracting.  Not as bad as some worlds they had visited, but still more than a casual glance.  He dismissed the thought; this world seemed normal enough.  He decided it was simply his air of authority attracting attention from a few students.  His thought process was interrupted when one of the students approached him.

"Excuse me?"  The student, who was tall and almost as well-built as Arturo, looked terribly frightened of him.

"Yes?  How can I help you, my boy?" beamed Arturo.

"I... I wondered if I could have your autograph, please?" stuttered the student.

"Certainly," agreed Arturo, surprised.  "Who should I make it out to?"

"Leon, sir," the student swallowed.

"Leon," mumbled Arturo as he carefully scribed his name on the student's notepad.  "There you go."

"Thank you," gasped the student, before rapidly vanishing down the corridor.

"This bodes well," said Arturo to himself.  "This bodes very well indeed."

-----

Wade nervously brushed her hair back before entering Doppler.  She didn't really know why, but somehow getting the equivalent of her old job, however crummy, made her feel closer to home.  Her heart sank as Hurley approached her.

"How can I help you?  Would you be interested in..." Hurley began.

"Actually, I was wondering if there are any job vacancies.  I have a lot of experience in this area and..."  Wade interrupted, trailing off as Hurley began to wave his fingers about annoyingly.

"You have to fill in these forms in order to apply."  Hurley thrust a handful of papers from his clipboard into Wade's hand.

"Do you have a pen I could borrow?" asked Wade, before Hurley could rush off again.

"Pens are available from the counter," replied Hurley abruptly.

Wade sighed.  Perhaps working here again wasn't such a great idea.  Working with Hurley for several weeks wasn't a prospect she relished.  But she needed a job, and at least he'd given her an application form.

-----

Rembrandt trudged wearily down the last few blocks to his agent's offices on this Earth.  "Wish he'd move somewhere closer to the park," muttered Rembrandt, missing his cadillac again.  "Maybe I'll suggest it."  He considered the idea for a moment, then thought, *'Course, if Q-ball could move the gizmo a little bit nearer here...  Nah, that stupid radius thing would probably throw us into the middle of LA, or the ocean, or something.*  Then he saw what remained of his agent's office block.

Instead of his agent's usual offices, there now stood about 10 feet of rubble.  Rembrandt couldn't believe his eyes; the whole thing was gone.  For a few minutes he simply stood in front of the empty lot, staring at it.  Then he sighed and turned back around the way he'd come.  "Figures," he grumbled, "a world where I have the chance to enjoy my position and it's taken away from me.  Man, I wish I knew who it was I pissed off."

He trudged back towards the center of San Francisco, his hands deep in his pockets and his shoulders hunched miserably.  "Well, whatever Q-ball says, I ain't sellin' ice cream again."

-----

Finally, Arturo found the appropriate secretary and enquired about the possibility of a temporary position.  She seemed overjoyed.  Apparently, they had been having trouble with staff shortages recently, and soon Arturo was ushered into a nearby office for an interview.

The lecturer, who Arturo vaguely recognized but couldn't really place, was engrossed in reading a paper as Arturo entered.  He held out a hand to offer Arturo a seat.

"Won't be a moment, brilliant theories this fellow."

Arturo nodded and sat down to wait, not wanting to ruin any chances of working in his chosen profession for however brief a time.  Thinking of the alternatives, he shuddered to remember some of the more menial tasks he had been forced to endure in recent months.

The lecturer finally finished reading and turned his attention to Arturo.  "Ah, I'm Professor Thomas Wielding."  He stood up and offered his hand to Arturo.

Arturo got up to shake his hand.  "Professor Maximillion Arturo."

Professor Wielding's mouth dropped, and he turned an unhealthy shade of white.

"Are you all right, my good fellow?" inquired Arturo.

"You can't be seen here.  You must go.  I'm afraid the post is no longer available," breathed Professor Wielding, obviously in a mild state of shock.

"What!"

"I... I'll have to call security," he stammered.

Arturo rolled his eyes, visions of sorting mail passing through his head.  "Blistering idiot," he muttered under his breath, walking back into the hallway and out of the building.

Back in his office, Professor Wielding pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to mop his brow, then lifted the telephone receiver and began to dial frantically.

-----

*Phew,* thought Wade, finished.  Triumphantly, she took the completed forms and handed them back to Hurley.  Hurley gazed at the forms for several long seconds, then disappeared into the back of the building.  He reappeared about 10 minutes later.

"Miss Wells, I'm afraid your application has been rejected."  Hurley seemed just a little too happy for Wade's liking.

"What? Why?" demanded Wade.

"You're not eligible," he replied, "so go away and stop wasting my time."

Wade sighed, perhaps this world wasn't as close to home as she'd thought.  Although, she had to admit that Hurley seemed to be himself all right.  Knowing that there was no way Hurley would change his mind, Wade left the store, dejected.

-----

Quinn had more luck.  He managed to land a job as a waiter in a small Italian restaurant.  The pay was lousy, and the job wasn't much better, but at least they hadn't asked too many awkward questions.  As he set about taking orders and delivering food, Quinn began to relax.  Somehow doing something so completely ordinary was just what he needed.  He almost felt as if he could successfully blend in without any trouble on this world, when a young waitress came up to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hey," she said.

"Umm," Quinn grunted noncommittally.

"Are you related to THE Quinn Mallory?"

"Uh..." Quinn began, searching for the appropriate response.  "I..."

Fortunately, he was saved by the head waiter who seemed to think that that particular waitress spent far too much time gossiping as it was.

Nonetheless, Quinn's feeling of safety had utterly disappeared.  He was as on edge as ever, half expecting a mutant beast to appear from around the corner, enter the restaurant, and gun him down for no reason.

-----

Rembrandt knew he would have to find some odd job to keep them all going soon, but just then he couldn't bear it.  Once again his hopes had been smashed.  He still had a few dollars in his pocket, so he decided to buy lunch and work up to job hunting.  It was bound to look better on a full stomach.

It didn't take long for Rembrandt to find a bar which served food.  He happily entered and began to study the menu.  He soon discovered one of the differences on this world.  Here they served drugs over the counter.  Even then Rembrandt didn't think much of it.  It wasn't until he noticed the name of the bar as he left that he began to worry.

The sign read, "2956 Yeoman Bar."

"Oh man," said Rembrandt to no one in particular.  "I know that name from someplace."  He didn't take long to remember that near-death experience, even though it was now over three years ago.  Rembrandt shuddered, he just had a bad feeling about being back on this Earth.

------

Rembrandt was feeling quite proud of himself as he set off to further investigate.  Without any input from the brains, he'd realized where they might be and was already well on his way to confirming his suspicions.  He entered San Francisco Community Church.

"Hey, Reverend, how're ya doin'?"  Rembrandt recognized the Reverend.

"Hello.  How're you doing, son?"  The Reverend gave no indication that he had recognized Rembrandt at all.

"Fine thanks, Reverend," replied Rembrandt, suddenly at a loss for words.

"Can I help you?" asked the Reverend.

"Uh.  No, I don't think so, Reverend.  I just kinda need to be here, work some things out."

The Reverend nodded and moved away quietly.

Rembrandt sat down in the familiar church, still unsure of which world this might be.  He tried to convince himself that it wasn't the world that nearly got hit by a passing asteroid.  Even if it was, it shouldn't matter now.  But he couldn't shake off a disturbing feeling that perhaps he was missing something and trouble was coming.

He chuckled quietly, where the Sliders landed there was nearly always trouble.  Why worry about it in advance.  Then his laugh caught in his throat as Caroline walked into the church.

Caroline Fontaine.  Now if she remembered him, that would be proof.  He stood up.  "Caroline?"

She turned and looked at him.  There was no sign of recognition.  Relieved but slightly disappointed, Rembrandt went to sit down again.

"Sorry, I must've mistook you for somebody else," he muttered.

"Rembrandt?"  Caroline finally remembered him.  "Is that really you?"

"It's me, in the flesh," grinned Rembrandt, for the moment forgetting his misgivings about this cursed world.  "How're you?" he asked.

She swallowed, apparently not wanting to remember what'd happened since that night.

"I'm sorry," said Rembrandt, realizing she might not want to talk to him about it.

"No, that's okay.  The Reverend says I should talk about it."  She smiled faintly.  "It was hard.  I suppose it was hard everywhere."  She looked at Rembrandt, expecting him to have similar tales.

Rembrandt laughed slightly.  "Girl, you have no idea."

"I divorced Alan," she said flatly.

Rembrandt put his arm round her shoulder.  "Tell you what, how about going out for dinner tonight?" he asked smoothly.  "For old time's sake."

"I'd like that."  She smiled more broadly.

"Seven, here?" suggested Rembrandt.

"Seven?  We'll never have time.  Better make it six," she replied.

"Six then," agreed Rembrandt, puzzled.

-----

Arturo and Wade arrived back at the hotel almost simultaneously, each one disappointed by their lack of success.

"How did you get on, Professor?"

"Unfortunately, they don't appear to want a professor of physics such as myself at the university," replied Arturo, still trying to work it out himself.  "How about you, Miss Wells?"

Wade shook her head.  "Hurley finally got what he always wanted.  He just didn't know it yet on this world."

"And that was?"

"He got rid of me" said Wade, her anger growing the more she thought about it.

Arturo patted her shoulder.  "Not to worry, Miss Wells.  Plenty more jobs to be found.  But first, how about I treat you to lunch, cheer us up?"

Wade smiled up at him, "Yeah.  Thanks."

They found a small, pleasant restaurant and sat comfortably in silence for a while, both deep in their own thoughts.  It was Arturo who finally broke the silence.

"Miss Wells, see if you can shed any light on my experience this morning.  Perhaps there's something I'm missing," he began.

"Mmm?"  Wade looked up, her mouth full.

"It seems I caused quite a disturbance at the university today.  For some reason a student asked for my autograph then ran away.  And then a highly distinguished lecturer had some form of panic attack when I told him my name."

"Weird," said Wade.

"My thoughts exactly.  This Earth seems so ordinary, and however deceptive appearances can sometimes be, I fail to see how I could have such an effect on two perfectly sane individuals.  Most peculiar."

Wade sniffed the air then said teasingly, "Well I don't think it's your deodorant!"

"Thank you.  It's best to eliminate every possibility," smiled Arturo.  "However, I think the best course of action at this time would be a trip to the public library."  He raised his eyebrows at her.

"Yeah, sure.  I'll visit the library.  I don't think I can face looking for another job yet anyway.  I just hope Quinn and Rembrandt don't mind."

"My dear, it is essential that we establish precisely what we are dealing with here before we make another, possibly futile, attempt to find work.  We have to know what we're up against."

"Agreed," replied Wade.

-----

Despite his nervousness after the girl asked him if he was THE Quinn Mallory, Quinn managed to keep enough of his mind on his job to avoid any reprimands.  With a lack of any further incidents, Quinn began to hope that perhaps, just for once, they might be able to stay out of trouble.  Then his eyes were drawn to a poster opposite the bathroom.  There, large as life, was a photo-fit picture of the Professor.  Underneath were the words, "Max.  Wanted by the government.  Large reward."  Quinn swallowed, wondering what the Professor's double might have done on this Earth.

The waitress who had unnerved him earlier saw him staring at the poster.  "Well you can't be THE Mallory then.  I'm sure he's in league with Max," she said.

"Errr..."  Quinn had no idea how to respond.  "What did he do?"

"You're kidding me?  You don't know what he did?  Where have you been?  He's a British spy, he tried to overthrow the government..."  She looked up at his blank expression.  "You don't remember?  Who are you?"

"I..." Quinn started, still not knowing what to say.

"Hey!"  Once again, Quinn was saved by the head waiter.  But after seeing the poster he was desperate to leave.  He had to warn the others.  He could already be too late.  But he pushed that thought from his mind.  He had to make it.

-----

Arturo and Wade found out more than they ever expected to at the library.  While he studied some books and newspapers on the recent history of this world, she surfed the internet for any useful sites.  Their results were surprisingly different.  Wade found that certain countries were unavailable on the web.  She tried several times once she had realized, but apparently they simply didn't exist.  She also found a huge amount of propaganda about other countries, sometimes including those which seemed absent, so they obviously still existed.

Arturo, however, found some more useful, if still seriously biased, information from recent newspapers.

Finally, Wade grew bored of reading the same thing over and over again, so she left the computer to join Arturo.  "How are you getting on, Professor?"  she whispered.

"It seems, Miss Wells, that we have arrived in a dimension where an asteroid almost hit the Earth approximately 3 years ago."

Wade's jaw dropped.  "Let me see."

"And Bennish did rather better for himself on here.  Look."  He indicated another newspaper dated roughly 2 years ago.

"Bennish became President?"  Wade couldn't believe it.  She almost forgot to explain to Arturo about the bomb.  About what had happened.  Quickly, she remembered and gave him a summary of events as she recalled them.

"What!" he almost shouted.  "I did what?!"

Wade nodded, hoping he would calm down.  He was beginning to attract attention.  "Come on, we've got to go."  She tugged at his arm, whispering, "It really wasn't your fault.  You saved the entire world, and you even tried to avert Bennish's ambitions."

"Will you stop that!  It wasn't me, it was my double.  And he obviously didn't try hard enough," stormed Arturo.

"Come on, the others are probably back at the hotel by now.  We'd better get back."

"We have to do something about this.  I don't care if we're interfering, we have to try.  In a manner of speaking, I am to blame for this mess.  I would have done the same thing in his position.  I must rectify it."

"Okay, but not now.  We've got ages, and you're beginning to attract attention," Wade said, trying to keep her voice to a whisper.

He nodded, and finally stood up to follow her, adding, "It's certainly the best evidence we've seen so far against interfering with the worlds we visit."

Wade looked a little guilty at that.   Arturo noticed her glance down at the floor.  "That's not always true, Max.  And it's certainly not true here.  Sometimes we do make things better."

"Do we?  I begin to wonder.  It seems clear that, even with the best intentions, you failed to change this world for the better."

-----

Rembrandt and Caroline went to a quiet restaurant of Caroline's choosing.  It was enjoyable, and Rembrandt found the company relaxing and pleasant.  In fact, he began to feel as though perhaps he had been wrong about his original thoughts about landing on this world again.  He felt as though he had run into an old friend, despite only having known Caroline for a day or so in particularly bizarre circumstances.  As he reflected on the night of their meeting, and her party, it occurred to him that perhaps a very quiet evening out wasn't completely her style.

"So, the evening is still young.  Are there any good nightclubs 'round here?" Rembrandt asked.  "You dance pretty well, girl."

Caroline looked puzzled.  "Where are you from, Rembrandt?"

"Err," Rembrandt tried to think fast, "Canada."

"Canada!  How did you get into the US?" gasped Caroline.  "I thought the borders were all closed."

"Well, I, err, travel a lot.  Probably didn't come in direct."

"Sure."  Caroline looked highly sceptical.  "You accidentally got into the country that won't let anyone in, and you know nothing about what's been going on."

"That's right."  Rembrandt didn't like the way this conversation was going.

"Where are you really from?" she inquired.

"You're not gonna believe me.  Best to just leave that alone.  Just explain what's been goin' on, girl.  I'm starting to get nervous."

"You really don't know, do you?"

"What do you think I've been saying?"  Rembrandt tried to think what might be going on, and horrible images flashing through his mind.  Most of them were life threatening.

"Shh!  Not so loudly."  Caroline started to look nervous now, looking around at the few other people in the restaurant.

"What?"

"Come on, we've got to go."  Caroline pulled Rembrandt up, trying to hurry him up.  "We don't have much time anyway."

"Time for what?"

"Time until curfew."  She tugged his arm a bit.  "Come on!"

"What!"  This was far worse than Rembrandt had imagined.  Martial law and people watching your every move.  Definitely a bad sign.  He wondered how the four of them were going to manage to lay low for their 6 week stay.  He thought about the Professor's tendency to let his temper get the better of him, and both Quinn and Wade's capacity for getting all of them into trouble.

"Oh man," Rembrandt groaned.  "We're in real trouble now."  Remembering that he wasn't alone, he looked at Caroline who was now driving the two of them back to her place.  She seemed to be taking it all in stride quite well, but then he hadn't explained where he was from yet, and she was bound to ask again.  He decided to worry about that when he came to it.  The first thing had to be to call the others.

-----

When Quinn finally got off work, he raced back to the hotel, praying that the others would be there before him.  There was no one there.  He could see signs that someone had been back there since they had left that morning, but no one was around now and no one had left a note.  Quinn sighed, hoping that they weren't already in trouble.

He'd just decided to take a shower and try to relax a little when the phone rang.  It was Rembrandt.  "Remmy!  Where are you?  I found out--"

"Shh, Q-ball."  Rembrandt shut Quinn up.

"What?"

"Listen, Q-ball.  Don't go out.  I can't explain now, but they're under martial law and you'll get arrested.  Stay where you are.  I'll be back in the morning."  With that Rembrandt hung up.

Quinn stared at the phone for a few moments, trying to give the call an element of reality, but the words wouldn't sink in.  He glanced at his watch.  It was approaching 7:30 and Rembrandt sounded serious about not going out, so where were Wade and Arturo?

Maybe the curfew didn't start until 8:00, maybe they'd get back in time.  It was certainly unusual for them to disappear for so long without either of them leaving a message.

Quinn began to pace nervously and looked at his watch.  7:32

He glanced at the clock.  It said 7:35; his watch was slow.  He peered out of the window and his heart sank as he saw how deserted the streets were.  If Arturo and Wade were going to make it back, they'd have to come soon. 7:38

"How could they fail to notice the streets being empty?" he muttered to himself, beginning to pace again.  7:41

Then he remembered his reason for rushing back.  That poster of the Professor.  If Arturo was that famous, he could easily have been captured.  Quinn gave up pacing and grabbed his coat.  He had to do something.  He had to look for them.  7:45  He shot out of the door and downstairs only to be confronted by a particularly mean looking guy with a machine gun at the main entrance.

"No one leaves the hotel.  Curfew," he announced as if he was some sort of robot.

Reluctantly, Quinn returned to the room before the guard, or whatever he was, could take things any further.  7:51

On re-entering their room, Quinn decided that the only thing to be done was to watch the TV and find out if there was anything on the news.  If the Professor was that famous and he'd been captured, surely it would be mentioned.

Quinn sat down heavily on one of the beds and flipped on the television. 7:53

"And today's headline news.  The British spy Max has once again been sighted on these shores."  The announcer shuffled some papers decisively before explaining.  "After the confirmed sighting of Max today, the police are urging citizens to avoid approaching this man.  He is considered armed and extremely dangerous.  If you see him, DO NOT attempt to bring him in yourself; notify the authorities.  Any sighting which leads to his capture is worth a substantial reward.  More after these messages."  The advertisements began.

Quinn looked at his watch again - 8:02.  They were definitely late now.  Although, if he had admitted it to himself, they were late before anyway.  At least the announcer hadn't said anything about "Max's" capture.

The commercials ended, and the announcer returned.  "Today, after the announcement of sightings of Max - returned from Great Britain after all this time - our reporter went over to London to investigate the situation there.  Over to you, Phil."

The reporter appeared on the screen in a dark, stormy London, standing in front of Big Ben.  "Hi.  After today's sighting of Max, I came over here to establish the precise political climate on this tiny, desolate island.  All around me in this cold, wet atmosphere there are the desperate and the homeless.  Stuck in this country with nowhere to go and no one to turn to.  The question is: Does the government care?  Earlier, I spoke to Prime Minister John Prescott."

The scene switched to earlier that day.  "So, Mr. Prescott.  Since arriving here, I've noticed the unusual number of homeless on the streets.  What is your government doing to rectify this?"

"You came all the way over 'ere to ask me that?" asked John Prescott in his thick Lancashire accent.

"It's important, don't you think?" replied the reporter.

"We will do whatever it takes to get our homeless off the streets."

"How come there are so many?"

"Inner cities tend to have a larger homeless population.  They come in hoping for something better, then discover that everything costs more and there's still no jobs available.  But we are fighting to create more jobs."

The camera cut back to the reporter by himself.  "Well, I think we can all be grateful that life is so much more civilized back in the states.  But I doubt very much that that is why Max has chosen to return.  So why is it that this British spy, wanted in connection with the murder of a number of American citizens and an attempt to overthrow the American government itself, would return to our country?  I spoke today to Dame Margaret Thatcher."

The reporter's voice disappeared behind the camera, and the scene changed.  London in a steady drizzle was replaced by Margaret Thatcher in a lavishly furnished office.

"Lady Thatcher, why do you think Max has chosen this time to return to America?"

"We must get what we want.  Fight for our survival."

The picture returned to the, now drenched, reporter in front of Big Ben.  He didn't say anything more, simply raised an eyebrow.

The announcer cut in.  "So, Phil, how do you think the British are coping with their current crisis?"

"It's been hard over here, with their growing division within the European union and the imminent failure of the peace process in Ireland combined with a growing push for independence from the Scottish and the Welsh, this country is in real trouble."

"So, do you think they pose any threat to us?  Is Max's presence their doing?"

"I don't think that we can blame the government itself.  But John Prescott is an inexperienced Prime Minister, and with the growing pressure from all sides, I suspect that he is under someone else's influence.  As to any threats from Max, we can only speculate at this time, but we have seen the evidence.  The British government is supporting a corrupt and unjust system.  While the masses freeze out here in cardboard boxes in the rain, the rich elite enjoy their high standard of living."  As the reporter rounded off, a picture of Buckingham Palace flashed up.  "Are they trying to reclaim their one-time colony?"

Quinn couldn't stand anymore.  He pressed the remote and thankfully the TV turned off first time.  He sighed with relief at the silence, and flopped back onto the bed.  8:19  He couldn't believe Arturo and Wade were this late.  For a few minutes he lay back and stared at the ceiling blankly, trying not to imagine anything awful happening.  Then his agitation got the better of him and he began to pace the room again, trying to think of something he could do.  8:32

Finally, he had an idea.  In fact, he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it before.  He got out the phone directory and began to phone around the local hospitals and police stations for any sign of Wade.  Obviously, looking for Arturo would be impossible, but it was possible that Wade wasn't with him, and at least he felt like he might accomplish something.

Several hours later, Quinn was incredibly tired, even more worried, and no closer to finding the whereabouts of either Wade or Arturo.  He felt as though it was all his fault, that maybe somehow he could've got to them in time to warn them.  Or better still, never taken them with him in the first place.  At least Rembrandt was okay.  For now.

Quinn looked at his watch again - 11:13.  He supposed he ought to get some sleep, but with the lack of any noise of the others in their little hotel room, he simply stared at the ceiling, more and more aware of their absence.  The silence of the streets outside simply served as another reminder.  11:20  Quinn stared mindlessly into the blackness, trying not to think of anything.  It was impossible.

With a sigh, Quinn sat up in bed and turned the TV back on.  This time there was a chat show on.

"So, what do you, the American public, think about Max's return?"

*They work fast,* thought Quinn.  *The Professor's everywhere.*  He changed channel.  Another report on "Max's" reappearance.  The next channel had a phone in with some sort of shrink for people who, through no fault of their own, found themselves doubting the government.  Quinn groaned and continued to flick through the channels until he finally discovered an old war film.  Relieved to see something which wasn't determined to make him completely paranoid, and simultaneously remind him of how powerless he was to help Wade and Arturo, Quinn half watched.  He still couldn't sleep; he was too worried.  A couple of times he got out of bed and checked the main entrance again, but it was no good.  The guard was still outside the hotel.  He tried the window, but it was no good either.  If he left, he'd be caught immediately.  They were at least 4 hours late now.  Where could they be?  Why didn't they call him?  Finally, he fell asleep holding the phone, waiting for someone to call him and tell him that everything was alright.

The phone was silent.
 

-----

President Bennish relaxed in his office at the White House.  He lay back on his chair, his feet resting comfortably on the polished desk.  Suddenly, his daydreams were interrupted by a knock on the door.  "Yeah?" he called.

His assistant, Humphries, walked in.  "This report just arrived, sir."  He handed him a piece of paper.

"Later, dude," said Bennish, placing the paper on the desk.  "I'm thinking."

"This matter will be of some interest to you, sir."

"Oh, okay.  Sure."  Bennish picked up the piece of paper and scanned over it.  "Cool," he said as he finished.  "So, Max is mine now?"

"That he is, sir."

"Excellent."

-----

Wade struggled to climb in through the window of their hotel room.  Despite her size, it was a tight fit.  And having jumped from the fire escape, she had little choice but to succeed.  She reminded herself several times not to look down.  She wasn't afraid of heights, but that was asking for trouble.  Once she had her head and shoulders through, she could see Quinn sleeping with the phone clutched tightly to his chest.  He looked so peaceful that, despite his obvious concern for them, she really didn't want to wake him yet.  So she tried to climb in quietly.  Unfortunately, her trailing foot caught on the windowsill and she tumbled into the room suddenly, waking Quinn.

"Uh?"  Quinn squinted into the room, replacing the phone.  As his eyes focused, he saw Wade scrambling up off the floor.  "Wade!  How could you do that to me?  I was so worried.  Why didn't you leave me a message so I'd know you were alright?"  Although he was pleased to see her, Quinn felt irrationally cross with her.  Then he noticed the state of her.  Her left eye was swollen and bruised, and she had a slight cut to her eyebrow.  He helped her up, then sat on the bed beside her.  "What happened?" he asked more calmly.

Wade swallowed.  "I don't know exactly, it all happened so fast."  She began to shiver slightly.

"Shh, it's okay now."  Quinn put his arm around her, trying to calm her down.  "Start at the beginning."

"We were just walking back here from the library.  It couldn't have been much after five.  We discovered that this is Asteroid World, and Bennish is President, and..."

Quinn put a hand on her shoulder.  "Quietly, slow down."

Wade nodded.  "We were walking back here and a gang of thugs just attacked us.  They just came out of nowhere and pounced on us.  One of them punched me, and well, that's it.  I don't remember anything else.  When I woke up it was dark, and the professor was gone.

"When was that?" asked Quinn gently.

"A few hours ago.  It took me a while to figure out where I was, and there were all those creepy soldiers."

"Yeah, I met one of those at the front door," concurred Quinn.  "There was one at the window when I looked out too," he added.

"Yeah, I had to wait ages for him to move, I thought he was going to stay there forever."  Wade smiled in relief, feeling much better already.

Quinn lay back a little.  He too felt better, despite the news of Arturo's capture.  If he wasn't totally alone, he was sure he could deal with it.  "Come on, we should get some sleep.  I've got to work tomorrow."

"What about the professor?  We can't just leave him," protested Wade.

"We can't deal with it now, Wade.  Tomorrow.  Go to sleep."

"Mmm.  I am feeling rather sleepy."  She yawned.  "'Night, Quinn."

"'Night."  Quinn smiled.

-----

Arturo squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light.  He was moving along a bumpy road - the jolts told him that much - but where he was going and why were mysteries.  A sudden pain in his head reminded him of their encounter with the thugs in the street.  He wondered what had happened to Wade.  As his vision became clearer, he saw that two of their attackers sat with him in the vehicle.  Groaning, he tried to straighten, and discovered that his hands were chained together.

"Would you kindly explain what I'm doing here?" spluttered Arturo.

The two men ignored him completely.

"Blistering idiots," he grumbled, turning his attention back to the ride.

He was in some sort of van, obviously intended for the transport of prisoners.  Which was strange, he thought, because that implied that these thugs were somehow official and that he was wanted for some reason.  Arturo found the puzzle intriguing, but he was no closer to a solution when the van stopped and he was hauled out by two of the gang.

"Where are you taking me?  I have done nothing to you!" he shouted at them, producing a few snickers which only served to further confuse him.

Presently, a man in uniform came out to meet him.  "Ah, Maximillion Arturo.  What a pleasure it is to finally meet you."

Arturo smiled graciously, hoping against hope that the man was sincere.

"I know the nation will now rest easy knowing that you are behind bars."

"What!  What do you accuse me of?  You can't do this!  I have done nothing, sir.  Nothing!  Blistering idiots."

The men led him through a large jail, full of the most unlikely looking criminals.  As Arturo looked around, his heart sank like a stone.  These people were clearly political prisoners, not common criminals.  This country was obviously in more trouble than he had initially realized, and in his current situation he saw little prospect of rectifying it.

The prison guards led him through the prison, past all those unfortunate enough to disagree with the current government.  In the final row of cells before he went into the solitary wing, Arturo saw Quinn.  His initial optimism of escape sank further still.  Without any input from himself or Quinn, the chances of the others getting them out dropped radically.  But he decided to keep up hope.  The others were by no means stupid, and they had pulled off a number of miraculous escapes in the past.  He had heard some incredible tales.  He wished he could remember a few for reassurance, but none would come to mind.  "Mr. Mallory!" he called to Quinn.

Arturo couldn't be sure, as he was roughly shoved into his cell in solitary before he had time to see properly, but it seemed as though Quinn was for some reason refusing to acknowledge him.  Strange.

-----

Maggie frantically scoured the documents left in her double's quarters.  There were a huge number of reports on missions, particularly missions to the UK, where Bennish claimed any resistance to his regime might come from.  From what she could gather, she had spent a large amount of time fabricating evidence to support his claims.  She was a high ranking officer in the military, and apparently she was on Bennish's side.  Once again she was Rickman's right hand.  Maggie groaned.  She still had to work out which way she was supposed to report to Rickman, even assuming that her latest mission was to the UK, which seemed very probable.  She came to the rapid conclusion that her best approach at this moment would be to write Rickman a fabricated report.  Odd though the concept seemed, that was obviously the way things were run, and Maggie had only found one report which suggested anything other than what the general public knew of Britain.  Buried deep in the files of obvious propaganda and fabricated reports, lay a single note.

After reading all of the obvious forgeries, Maggie was relieved to discover even a tiny piece of the truth.  She wondered how anyone could possibly believe the rubbish her double, and others like her, were writing.  It seemed so clear to her, but she knew she could only see it because she shared so many similarities with her double.  A worrying thought, and one Maggie did her best not to linger on.  She turned her thoughts back to the note.  It was very brief, yet simply from the way it was written she could see that it was the truth.  There was no attempt to reclaim the old British colonies, no insane government in London.  The danger was here, in the US, in Bennish and his cronies, which would apparently include her double.  Maggie began to work on a plan.  Surely, in her current position, there would be something she could do which might help alleviate the situation.  Perhaps she could file a truthful report with Rickman....

After careful consideration, Maggie dismissed the idea as far too dangerous.  She could plan, certainly, and she had every intention of doing something, but for the moment she had to maintain her cover.  Her time would come, and she knew it.

-----

Rickman was already sitting at his desk when she delivered the report to him.  He motioned her to sit down, and she was forced to wait as he read it.  Her heart beat so loudly that she was sure someone else should've heard it and realized that something was wrong.  And Rickman seemed to read so slowly, taking in every detail.

"Maggie," he began.

"Sir?"

"This reads well, but I see nothing in here that would warrant your returning early.  We do need some accurate intelligence, Captain."

"Yes, sir," said Maggie, confused as to which version of the facts qualified as accurate intelligence.

"I expect you to be returning to Britain shortly."  Rickman leaned back in his chair.  "And returning with some more insightful comments."

Maggie saluted, realizing that she was dismissed.  As she exited the office, she inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.  That had been too close.

-----

"Hey, guys.  I'm home," called Rembrandt cheerily.  Initially there was no response, then Quinn staggered out, bleary eyed.

"Hmm?" asked Quinn incoherently.

"Man, I thought I was up late.  What were you up to last night?" chuckled Rembrandt.

"Remmy," Quinn patted him on the back as they entered the room, "you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Go on then, don't keep me in suspense.  What happened?  Where's Wade and Arturo?  Where's Maggie for that matter?"

Quinn sighed and sat heavily on the bed.  "Wade's sleeping."  He waved his arm in the direction of a small mound in a bed in the corner.  "And the professor is gone.  I think Maggie's still caught up with the military."

"The professor is gone?  What do you mean, gone?  Where?"

"We don't know.  Some guys ambushed him and Wade.  She was out cold while he disappeared completely."  Quinn rested his head in his hands, dejected.

"She okay?"  Rembrandt glanced again at the sleeping form of Wade.

"I think so.  She was a bit shaken, but otherwise alright."  Quinn smiled slightly, a little shaken by his own experiences the previous evening.

Inwardly, Rembrandt groaned.  Something always seemed to go wrong before they had chance to avoid it.  "Oh man, why does this always happen to us?"

"Well, in this case, I think we brought it upon ourselves.  We're the cause," Quinn sighed.  "Max is one of America's most wanted, and there's a huge reward for anyone who finds him."

"Oh no.  The dude with the bomb?"

"Yeah."

"Where do you think they've taken him?" asked Rembrandt, getting more alarmed by the minute.

"I don't know, I really don't know."  Quinn shook his head in frustration.  "We've got six weeks on this world, and we get into trouble within one day."

Rembrandt put his hand on Quinn's shoulder, trying to reassure him.  "You'll think of a way to find him.  You always do."

"Thanks, man," smiled Quinn.

"I'll see what I can find out.  But in the meantime, I may have found me a nice, cushy, little job," beamed Rembrandt.

"Oh yeah?"

"Caroline thinks she may be able to get me a job as a security guard.  Sounds pretty good too, not too strenuous, low risk with this curfew thing..." Rembrandt went on.

"Caroline?"  Quinn raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, she was..." he trailed off.  "I gotta go now.  I'll explain later."

Rembrandt shot out of the room again, leaving Quinn alone once more.  He glanced at Wade, but she was still fast asleep and he didn't have the heart to wake her.  So instead, Quinn reluctantly switched the TV back on, bracing himself.  He found a news channel and sat on the foot of the bed, trying to digest the implications of their interference 3 years ago, and find any clues which might enable them to save Arturo.

"Today's main news.  The final capture of Max.  The fugitive known as Professor Maximillion Arturo was captured last night by elite members of the secret police.  Here, exclusively on the News Channel, we have an interview recorded earlier with the librarian who made the call leading to Max's capture.  She is now the country's newest millionaire."

"So, Mrs. Roberts.  How did you find Max?  The man whom the entire country has been looking for for over 3 years."

"Well, I was sitting at my desk, when this mad man started shouting in the library.  Anyone would have noticed, and once I realized who he was, I had to do my patriotic duty and call the authorities."

"What're you going to do with the money?"

"Oh, I won't let it change my life..."

"How could anyone do something like that?" demanded Wade, creeping up behind Quinn.

Quinn turned, startled.  "It's understandable, look at the information they've been force fed."

"I don't know.  I still don't see how someone could just sell out me and Arturo," continued Wade.

"Well, they think he's a dangerous criminal, Wade.  And look at the reward that woman gets.  You can see why someone'd go along with something like that.  How would they know not to believe it?" Quinn argued.

"They--"

"Wait a second.  It's Bennish," interrupted Quinn.

"Hello, America," said Bennish into the microphone, in front of hundreds of reporters.  He bowed and waved a few times before beginning his speech.  "Today I want to announce the capture of Max..."  He was interrupted by thunderous applause.  "... the biggest threat to our way of life since the destruction of 2956 Yeoman."  More applause.  "So, now everyone can sleep soundly again.  I did it!  I saved the country."  Bennish waved his arms about and began to get excited, faced by such a large crowd.  It was obvious he had departed from his prepared speech.  He threw his right arm in the air and, to the cheers of his crowd, yelled, "The streets of America are safe!"

Wade groaned.  "I don't believe they made him President."

"Me neither," grimaced Quinn.  He switched the TV off, wanting to escape the reality of the world they had arrived on, and Arturo's plight, for a little while.  "But anyhow, how're you this morning?"  He lifted her chin so that he could look at her black eye more clearly.

"I'll live," muttered Wade.  "What about the Professor, though?  What are we going to do?"

"I know it's hard, but for the moment I think we should gather all the information we can.  We've got 6 weeks before the slide, so even if we could find him and break him out now, we'd never be able to hide him for so long," Quinn replied rationally.

"How can we leave him like that?" asked Wade.

"Wade, we're going to have to.  Just for a little while," said Quinn quietly.

"Maybe," agreed Wade reluctantly.  "We'd better start gathering information then."

"Wade, try not to attract any attention to yourself.  They might be watching you now," suggested Quinn.

Wade touched her eye.  "And they made me nicely distinctive too."  She sighed.  "Okay, you and Rembrandt can hunt today.  I'll lie low 'til tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?  Wade..." objected Quinn.

"Tomorrow, Quinn.  I'll be careful."  Wade folded her arms and looked at him, giving him a clear view of her bruised face.

Quinn looked down from her, glancing at his watch.  "I have to go work now," he told her, looking her in the eye as if to say, 'please don't get into trouble.'  "I got a job as a waiter."  That earned a small smile from Wade, but she wasn't keen on the prospect of sitting alone in the hotel room, a virtual prisoner while the others did the work.  "Please be careful," whispered Quinn as he exited the room.

Wade sighed, she didn't know how she was going to keep her promise to Quinn.  But she had said she would stay, so stay she must.  She flicked the TV back on.

Within five minutes of Quinn's departure, she was bored.  The TV on this world was even more mindless than normal.  After a few minutes of exposure, she was desperate to go out, to run off, to risk getting in trouble.  *Maybe that's why the TV's like that,* she thought.  *To persuade everyone to make trouble, and therefore find potential troublemakers more quickly.*  Wade laughed to herself, that idea seemed a little ridiculous.  Switching the TV off, she sat for several minutes contemplating precisely what to do to occupy herself.

She toyed with the idea of going out, despite her promise to Quinn.  But seeing her reflection in the TV screen, she knew that Quinn was right.  With her huge black eye, she was far too noticeable.  She would have to wait.  On the other hand, she couldn't bear the thought of simply doing nothing while Arturo was in serious trouble.  Wade braced herself and turned the TV back on, hoping to be able to read between the lines.

-----

"Dave?  Hey, Dave!" Caroline's boss called over the white haired security guard.  "Can you show Mr. Brown around?  He just got here; thought he might make you a good partner."

"Sure," smiled Dave amicably.

"Rembrandt Brown."  Rembrandt held out his hand.

"Dave Dawson."  Dave shook his hand firmly.  "So, you're just startin' out here, huh?  Well, just follow me; you'll be fine."  Dave started to shuffle down the corridor.  "Well, come on then, Rembrandt," he called.

Rembrandt followed him, amused.  The security of the building must have a fairly low priority if this guy was still on active duty, he figured.  Fortunately, they didn't seem to expect him and Dave to walk up and down the stairs of the 20 storey, office building.  Instead, they could use the lift and monitor the security cameras between patrols.  It was all pretty simple.  Rembrandt was sure he could handle it.  As Dave shuffled along the main corridor, Rembrandt wandered behind him, singing softly to himself.

Dave chuckled.  "So, you like singing, huh, Rembrandt?"

"Sure do," replied Rembrandt, still humming.

"So long as it ain't so bad we don't hear the sirens," chuckled Dave.  "Now, where did I put my glasses?" asked Dave, patting his pockets.

Rembrandt tried not to laugh, but he couldn't resist a smile.  "Your head."  He pointed.

"Ah yes, now where were we?  Fire drill, there we go.  You'll need to know that."  Dave peered at the notice board until he found the appropriate sign.  "There," he said, satisfied.

Rembrandt was just starting to read through the notice when Caroline came past.  "Hi there, young lady," called Dave.

"Hi, Dave.  How're you?  What do you think of your new recruit?"

"Ah, so he's yours, is he?" smiled Dave.

Caroline laughed.  "More his own than mine, I suspect."

Rembrandt grinned back.  "Morning."

Caroline smiled.  "Morning, Remmy."  Then she was on her way again.

"Lovely girl," commented Dave.

"That she is," agreed Rembrandt, a huge smile creeping across his face.

They stood in silence, staring after Caroline, for several minutes, each lost in his own thoughts.  Then Dave returned to his senses abruptly.  "Well, where were we?  Ah, I think that's about it for the tour.  Time to go and see Evelyn and find out when we're on."  Dave began to shuffle again, so Rembrandt followed him.

"Hi, Evelyn.  How're you?" Dave asked as he shuffled up to the reception desk.

"What do you want, Dave?" she asked, sounding slightly irritated.

"Just want to know when me and Rembrandt here are next on," replied Dave calmly.

"Oh.  Well, you'll have to wait a minute."

"That's fine," injected Rembrandt quickly.  "We've got all the time in the world."

"You have, have you?  Maybe I should get you to help me here then," scowled Evelyn.

Dave and Rembrandt stood at Evelyn's desk for almost 15 minutes before she got around to sorting them out.  In that time, Rembrandt quietly watched all the people bustling about.  He wondered if it was possible to tell which ones were in favor of Bennish's regime, and which weren't.  It would be useful to find a few potential allies, and he didn't want to waste his time simply because of a grumpy secretary.  So, he spent his time trying to distinguish the supporters from the objectors, listening in to snatches of conversation as they went by, or simply watching them.  Despite their in-built need for caution, he was fairly sure that from his relatively objective point of view, he could see at least one or two who actively opposed the government.  On the other hand, it left him alarmed at just how many people seemed not to care at all.

-----

During the afternoon, Maggie saw another opportunity to call the others.  Wade answered, relieved to have something to do other than avoid watching the TV.

"Maggie, where are you?" asked Wade.  "The professor got taken by Bennish."

"Well, I'll worry about that later," replied Maggie.  "Right now I'm on another mission."

"What's that, Maggie?" asked Wade, a little exasperated.

"I can't explain right now, Wade.  You'll just have to believe me.  Look, just be careful of the military.  They're screwing the whole country.  We're talking serious conspiracy.  Forget abiding by the law, they can make anything up.  And you can bet Max's double didn't do anything."

"Maggie..." began Wade.

"I gotta go," said Maggie hurriedly, slamming the phone down.

Wade sighed, even more frustrated.  She wished someone would tell her what was going on.

-----

"Come on, guys," called Rembrandt.  "Caroline says you're welcome to stay with her, too.  She'd like the company.  We can leave a message at the desk in case Maggie calls."

"Maggie just called," said Wade, remembering.

"So who is this Caroline then, Remmy?" asked Quinn.

Rembrandt grinned smugly.  "A friend I made last time I was here, unlike the rest of you."

"We were a little busy," laughed Quinn, remembering their last visit to this Earth.

"I'd say you and the professor managed to make some lifelong enemies.  Why does that not surprise me?"

Quinn shrugged.  "Just lucky, I guess," he replied glibly.

"Come on, guys.  Can't stand here all day.  I don't think I want to get caught out after curfew again."  Wade tried to encourage them to get moving.

"Sure, Wade," replied Quinn, finally grabbing his coat and stepping out of the door behind her.

"Coming, girl.  Have patience," called Rembrandt, shooting out behind Quinn.

They caught a cab to Caroline's house, where she greeted them warmly.  She was glad to have some company for a while.  Since her husband had left and the curfews had started, things had been far too quiet.  They entered the house to discover the smell of food waiting for them, and soon the four of them were tucking into a delicious, home-made meal.

Once the introductions were all over, and Rembrandt had finally explained a little about how he and Caroline had first met, the table grew silent.  All that could be heard was the sound of them eating contentedly.

A little uncomfortable with Quinn and Wade, Caroline decided to strike up conversation.  "Rembrandt tells me that you lost a friend of yours," Caroline remarked to Quinn.

"Yeah," said Quinn, "there was a gang of thugs, and then suddenly he'd disappeared."

"Is that how you were injured, Wade?" asked Caroline.

"Yeah, they just jumped on us," replied Wade.

"Well, if there's anything I can do to help you out.  I do have a few contacts, they may be able to help," offered Caroline.  "Provided he hasn't done anything illegal," she added.

"He hasn't," jumped in Wade, quickly.

"We only just got here.  He never had a chance," said Rembrandt.

"Fair enough.  Well, let's just relax for the evening, and tomorrow I'll have a poke around, see if anyone knows anything.  I'm sure your friend will be fine."  Caroline tried to reassure the sliders.  "What's his full name, by the way?"

The sliders glanced at one another.  "Professor Maximillion Arturo," said Rembrandt.

Caroline nearly choked on her wine.  "Max?"  She turned to eye Quinn suspiciously.  "And you're called Quinn?  Oh, my God!"

"Huh?  What's the big deal?  I thought you knew," exclaimed Rembrandt, surprised by her reaction.  He had been sure she was on the level.

"I never knew that you wanted to break out Max!  How can you even consider such a thing?  All those monstrosities..."

"It's not true," argued Wade.

"We only just got here, remember," urged Quinn.

"And why would I believe you, Quinn Mallory?  Or a girl whom I've never met who turns up with you and Max?  Remmy?"

"You can believe me. You know you can," soothed Rembrandt.  "They're telling you the truth, and you know I'm okay.  You have to trust us.  Can you tell us who might be able to help us?"

Caroline took a long sip of her wine, then set her glass down, looking each of them in the eye.  She didn't know Rembrandt well.  *Could he have joined the secret police?* she wondered.  But she had met secret police before, and he really wasn't the type.  Still, she was unsure how to react - whether to trust them.

For the sliders, that moment took an eternity.  They had laid far too many cards on the table.  They didn't know how this woman was going to react.  Rembrandt quietly kicked himself for not being paranoid enough in a society where paranoia had become a survival trait.  And Quinn wished he'd listened to his instincts and not gone along with Rembrandt's suggestion that they stay with Caroline.  After the previous night's trouble, he kicked himself for not being more cautious.

Finally, Caroline spoke.  "I'll see what I can find out.  No promises though, Max is way too high profile to even ask questions about, to be honest.  You should be more careful."  Before the others had a chance to speak, Caroline stood up.  "I'm tired anyway.  I'm off to bed.  Goodnight."

They watched her go in silence, then finally each one of them breathed a huge sigh of relief.

"She seems a little uptight, Remmy," commented Wade.

"I guess I would be too, if I lived in a place like this," replied Rembrandt.  "These years have certainly changed her."

"We better tread a bit more carefully in the future," suggested Quinn, seriously.

"I..." Wade trailed off as she saw Caroline approach.  Caroline looked far more relaxed.

"Well, Remmy?  You coming?" she asked him teasingly.

Rembrandt's eyes lit up.  "You bet.  I'll be right there."

Caroline smiled graciously.  "There are a couple of rooms made up upstairs and to the right."  She gestured towards the stairs for Quinn and Wade.

"Thanks," said Wade.

Quinn nodded gratefully.  He needed a good night's sleep.

Quinn and Wade quietly cleared the dishes, then they too went upstairs for some much needed rest.  Even though it was early, Wade fell asleep quickly.  But Quinn lay awake for some time in his room, unable to sleep.

As he finally began to drift off to sleep, Quinn was disturbed by a noise.  Curious, he crept to the door of his room and peered out.  Initially, he couldn't see anything, but then he made out a shadowy figure walking silently down the stairs.  Intrigued, he followed a little, praying he wouldn't make any noise and alert them, even if it was only Wade or Rembrandt.  He wanted to be sure first.

Suddenly, the lights downstairs were switched on.  Quinn's heart leapt.  He could so easily have been spotted.  But at least he managed to get a good look at the mysterious figure.  It was Caroline.  Quinn crouched on the stairs, peering over the handrail to watch as Caroline picked up the phone and dialed frantically.

Quinn couldn't really hear what she said.  She spoke too quietly.  But he was sure he heard a name.  It was his own.

-----

Rembrandt lay back on the bed, relaxing.  It was his last proper night's sleep before he started work.  He smiled as Caroline walked in.

"Hey.  Work time already?" he asked.

"I'm afraid so, Remmy," she replied.

They were both quiet for a minute or so, lost in thought.  Caroline broke the silence cautiously.  "Rembrandt?  Could I ask you about something?"

"Shoot.  Whatever," grinned Rembrandt.

"How do you know Max?"

Rembrandt tried to think fast, wondering whether to explain sliding to her.  He decided not to, no one ever believed him anyway.  "It was through Q-ball really.  He had this accident a while back, and I sort of met the Professor after I got to know Quinn."

"But I thought you weren't from around here?  Everyone knows Quinn and Max are from San Francisco."  Caroline frowned.

"Well, uh.  I met them not long before I met you, when I was visiting here.  Like I said, it was an accident."  Rembrandt paused, digesting what she'd said.  "Does that mean Q-ball's wanted here, too?  What's he supposed to have done?"

Caroline laughed.  "You're so good.  I could believe you in a second.  But I don't have time for this just now.  I have to go."

Caroline rushed out of the door, ready for work.  Quinn watched her go from the kitchen.  As the front door closed, he went upstairs to find Rembrandt.

"Remmy, I think you should be careful what you tell her," he began.

"What're you talkin' about, man?" Rembrandt inquired.

"Caroline.  I'm not sure we can trust her," pressed Quinn.

"And why not, Q-ball?  Huh?  Because you don't know her?  I know this lady and she ain't gonna betray us, no matter how she reacted last night,"   Rembrandt shouted at Quinn, frustrated.  "Trust me for a change.  She's fine.  You can hardly blame her for being surprised after all the publicity..."

"It's not that, Remmy," interrupted Quinn.

"What then?"

"I heard her talking to someone on the phone last night, after everyone was asleep."

"So what, Q-ball?  It's her house."

"I think she said my name," Quinn finished.

"That's it?  You saw her use the phone late at night, and because you THINK you heard her say your name, you think we can't trust her?"

"Yeah.  Isn't that enough?" Quinn yelled back.

"What else did she say, man?  Sell our souls over the phone?  How come no one's come looking for us if she announced our presence?"

"I don't know," replied Quinn, reluctantly.  "I don't know what else she said either.  I couldn't hear."

"So, the only thing you may have heard is your name?  Would you listen to yourself, Q-ball?  This is ridiculous.  You must be developing one serious ego."

Wade groaned.  She'd been hoping to catch up on some sleep, but with Quinn and Rembrandt screaming at one another down the hall, there didn't seem to be much hope of that.  She considered going to find out exactly what they were arguing about, but thought better of it.  Quinn just couldn't be reasoned with in that sort of mood anyway, so what was the point getting involved.  She lay on the bed, waiting for the shouting to finish.  Momentarily, she considered turning the radio on to try and drown them out, but then she remembered what the TV had been like and thought better of it.  Obviously the only course of action was to sit and wait for it to blow over.

-----

Maggie lay back on her bunk after an exhausting night of trying to fob Rickman off.  She was relieved that soon she would be expected to return to England.  At least she could get away from this propaganda creation machine then, and Rickman.  After all that had happened with Rickman's double, and given the circumstances in this world, Maggie found it hard to remain civil with Rickman.  She knew he outranked her, but frankly she didn't trust him at all, and she would be willing to disobey his orders in a second if she considered it necessary.  Her time with the sliders had truly changed her.

Slowly, she relaxed, trying to get rid of a persistent headache which had troubled her for the last two days.  As she finally began to drift off to sleep, she was barely aware of the door opening.  She sat up suddenly in bed, wondering who would possibly disturb her now.

At the door stood her double.

-----

Finally, Wade heard the door slam as Quinn left for work.  Heaving a sigh of relief, she wandered downstairs to see if Rembrandt could explain what was going on.

"Hey, Remmy."

"Morning, sweetheart.  Sleep well?"  Rembrandt smiled.

"Sure, 'til you and Quinn started yelling at one another," replied Wade.

"You noticed that, huh?"

"Yeah.  What's up?"

Rembrandt sighed.  "Q-ball doesn't trust Caroline."  He paused for a moment, then began to get worked up again.  "I can't believe it, like he thinks I'm not capable of telling what sort of person she is.  She's a good person, she really is, Wade."

"Hey," Wade patted his arm gently, "you know what Quinn's like.  He just gets these ideas sometimes.  He'll get over it."  Wade tried to calm Rembrandt down a little.

"I sure hope so.  That boy can be so annoying sometimes," groaned Rembrandt.

Wade laughed.  "And don't we know it."

Rembrandt smiled again.  "What're you up to today, girl, anyway?"

"Well," said Wade sheepishly, "I was thinking I might do some digging.  See if I can find anything out.  Like maybe how to contact the underground."

"You sure about that, girl?  You could be walking into a whole heap of trouble."  Rembrandt looked concerned.

"I can take care of myself," frowned Wade.

"So, says that shiner," chuckled Rembrandt, gesturing at her face.

"Well, someone has to go looking.  And you have to work," Wade responded indignantly.  "And Maggie's busy.  Any ideas where to start?"

"There's always the traditional talk to a priest method," suggested Rembrandt.  "I know just the man..."

-----

Wade stepped into the San Francisco community church, feeling slightly apprehensive.  In these circumstances it would be so easy to say the wrong thing and end up in trouble, even with a priest.  Nonetheless, she continued.  Initially, there were a number of people milling about, so Wade went and lit a candle for Arturo, praying that he wasn't in any immediate danger - not before they could find him.  Then there seemed to be a slight lull, and Wade took her opportunity.

"Reverend?  May I speak with you privately?"

"Certainly, child," smiled the Reverend.  "Step over here."  He led her to a small confession booth in the corner.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," began Wade, uncertain how to approach the topic of Max.

"What troubles you, child?" asked the Reverend.

"My friend is in trouble ana I don't know how to help him," blurted out Wade.

"If you seek to help him, then he will appreciate your efforts."

"But he's been wrongly imprisoned, and I have no idea how to see him.  I don't even understand what he's done."

"Hush, child, we shouldn't even be speaking of these things.  Are you speaking of a political prisoner?"

Wade gulped, this could be the moment of truth.  She decided to have faith in Rembrandt.  "Yes," she replied.

"Then there is only one group of people who can help you," answered the Reverend.  He scribbled an address on a scrap of paper.  "Go to this address.  If anyone can help you, it is they.  But be warned, they do not take to strangers easily.  They must be convinced of your cause before they will help you.  Are you sure you wouldn't rather be serving the community from which your friend has, temporarily I'm sure, been taken?  In preparation for his return."

"I'm sure, Reverend.  Thank you," said Wade gratefully.  She rushed out of the church before the Reverend could say another word.

The Reverend sighed and turned to another woman who had just entered the church.  Under his breath he muttered, "A shame, one so young."

-----

Maggie shot to her feet, her tiredness from being awake all night instantly gone.  For a few moments they circled one another, ready to strike, then her double spoke.  "Who are you?  What're you doing here?"

"This is going to sound a little improbable," replied Maggie, "but I'm you."

"Sure," sneered Maggie's double.  "What do you want?"

"Nothing," insisted Maggie.  "I came here by accident."

"Which is why you just happen to be in my quarters, accidentally sleeping in my bed, I assume?"

"I can explain..."

"I'm sure you can.  To Rickman, spy."  Maggie's double finally stopped circling and pounced.

The two of them struggled against one another for several minutes, each of them getting the occasional punch in.  Finally, Maggie's double drew her gun.  "Well if you're not going to go quietly..."

Maggie closed her eyes momentarily as her double pulled the trigger and the gun misfired.  Her double instantly went for her secondary gun, which she wore on her ankle.  As she did so, Maggie dived at her, pushing her back into the wall.  Her double hit her head on the wall and slumped to the floor, unconscious.

Maggie herself sighed and wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth.  The fun was on just beginning.  Now she had to figure out how to get out of this mess without getting caught.  With Arturo already in trouble, the others were going to need her help.  She began to tie her double firmly to the chair.

-----

Quinn glanced at the headed notepaper in his hand, hopefully giving him the address of Caroline's work place.  He had about half an hour before he had to get to work himself, and this address was only a couple of blocks out of his way.  Quinn began to run.  He wasn't too sure what he expected to find.  Something to persuade Rembrandt perhaps?  He knew that Rembrandt would never believe him without some proof, not this time.  Ignoring the stares he attracted from strangers on the street, Quinn found the building and ran in.

As he entered, he was confronted by a security guard and some sort of receptionist.  He absentmindedly ran his hand through his hair, trying to look more presentable, then approached her as confidently as possible.

"I'm, err, looking for Caroline Fontaine?"

The receptionist smiled and pointed to the elevator.  "Fifth floor, sir."

"Thanks," replied Quinn, glancing at the security guard who just ignored him.

Quinn emerged from the lift cautiously on the fourth floor, and found some stairs to the fifth floor.  Already, this world's paranoia was catching up with him.  He quietly wandered down the corridor, trying to work out where Caroline's office might be.  Suddenly, he heard her voice behind him.

"Why, Quinn.  What're you doing here?  Can I help you?"

Quinn spun around, a little embarrassed.  "I, err...  I just wanted to thank you for last night, and I wondered if there was anything you wanted us to do for you.  During the day," he stammered.  "While you're at work."

"Well, thank you, Quinn.  That was very nice of you, but I'm fine.  I'm afraid I'm in a bit of a hurry now though, so I'll see you later."  Caroline walked off quickly.

Quinn turned and tried to work out where she had come from, finally finding her office.  It was locked.  He sighed and began searching through his pockets for anything he might be able to use to pick the lock with, but he was short of time and the corridor was too busy.  He knew he had to concede for the moment.  Maybe there would be something back at the house, he hoped.

-----

Wade glanced down at the scrap of paper the Reverend had given her.  She was sure, this was the place.  Looking around suspiciously for any observers, she approached the house and knocked boldly on the door.  As the door opened, she realized she had absolutely no idea what to say.

The door was opened by a tall, muscular man, who was instantly familiar to her.

"Wilkins," she gasped, remembering the leader of the American uprising, who she had come to admire on one of the first worlds they had visited.

Wilkins looked down at the complete stranger who knew his name.  He roughly pulled her inside the house before she could signal anyone who might be with her.  Then he hit her, knocking her out.  As Wade fell to the floor, Wilkins picked her up using a fireman's lift, and carried her into the next room.  The others in the room stared at them intently.

"Who's she?" asked Rothwell as he leaned back in his chair, smoking.

"How should I know?" snapped Wilkins.

"But she knew you?" asked Moody, the only female among the little band.

"Yeah.  Can't figure that out at all.  Not unless we've been found out.  Better start moving out guys, unless you want to be lookin' at the world through bars for a long time to come.  Come on, this house is about done for recruitment anyway; we should get back under."

"There is no danger," argued Stoica, a large, portly man.  "They wouldn't send just her."

"I said we're movin' out.  I don't like to waste men for no good reason," snarled Wilkins.

"There is no danger," repeated Stoica.

Wilkins looked about ready to hit Stoica, but despite his regular insubordination he knew that Stoica was really a good man, and he didn't want to waste any offer of help.  So, he held himself back, and simply fired back, "Which part of that didn't you understand, Private?"  As the group was momentarily silent, there was another knock at the door.

Mick answered, bringing the Reverend through into the room with him a few moments later.

"So you met her," observed the Reverend.  "She was a threat?  I couldn't decide, that's why I sent her here.  She said she was looking for a wrongly imprisoned friend."

"That doesn't necessarily make her rebellion material, you know that.  Besides, she knew me by name," replied Wilkins.

"Hmm, now that is a puzzle.  Surely if she'd been sent by troops they would've been here already.  They usually act very quickly on such a lead."

"True," conceded Wilkins.  "I think we should relocate just in case, though.  No sense in being caught like this."

"Quite," smiled the Reverend.  "Still, I'd go a bit easier on her.  So much simpler to find out what's going on if you let her remain conscious."

"I'll do things my own way, thank you," retorted Wilkins politely but firmly.

"Certainly, my son," nodded the Reverend.  "Anyhow, I must be going.  Leave you to decide what to do."

"I'll let you out," offered Mick amicably.

Wilkins stared silently at the unconscious form of Wade, unable to imagine how she could know him yet not bring any of Bennish's soldiers.  Strange.

-----

"Q-ball?  That you?" called Rembrandt as he heard the door open.

"Yeah, it's me," mumbled Quinn.

"You seen Wade at all today?"

"No," replied Quinn, glancing at his watch, instantly worried.  "She went out?"

"This morning, just after you," answered Rembrandt.

"How long 'til curfew?" asked Quinn.

"'Bout half an hour.  I gotta go to work soon though, man."

"We've got to look for her," said Quinn, already halfway out of the door.

"I'm with you, Q-ball."  Rembrandt followed him out.

Side by side, they ran back towards the center of San Francisco, all arguments forgotten.

"I know where to start," gasped Rembrandt. "The church.  She was going there this morning."

"The church?" Quinn looked surprised.

"It's a long story; I'll explain later," replied Rembrandt.

The church was in complete darkness when they arrived, so they ran around it, frantically searching anywhere they could think of.  But with curfew fast approaching, they had very little time, and they had no idea where else to look.

"What was she doing at the church anyway, Rembrandt?"  Quinn looked Rembrandt in the eye.  "You suggested it, didn't you?"

Rembrandt nodded silently.

"Supposing she found something?" shouted Quinn.  "Or something found her."

"I don't know.  She just wanted to do something for Arturo, and I was trying to help her out.  I thought it'd be safer this way," sighed Rembrandt.

Quinn glared at him, but said nothing, trying to restrain himself from starting another argument and wasting valuable time.

"Hi guys!"  The two of them turned to see Caroline pull up to the pavement beside them.  "Want a ride home, Quinn?"

"How come you're out now?" asked Quinn, instantly suspicious.

"Late night at the office," replied Caroline casually.  "I could ask the same of you.  You don't want to get caught out here."

Quinn and Rembrandt exchanged glances, and Quinn nodded very slightly.  Despite his misgivings, Caroline seemed to be their only hope of finding Wade quickly.  Rembrandt had seen her at the church before; he just had to hope that was a good sign, rather than a bad one.

"We've lost Wade," explained Rembrandt concisely.

"Get in," Caroline ordered Quinn, "quickly."

Quinn glared at her.  "Didn't you hear me?  We have to look for Wade."

"Not now.  Get in."  Caroline saw the look on Quinn's face an added, "I can help you out, but we have to go now!"

"Go on, man.  No sense getting yourself into trouble too.  How will you help her of Arturo then?"  Rembrandt gave Quinn a push.

Quinn turned and locked his eyes onto Rembrandt's, his look saying everything.  Then he got into the car and Caroline sped away.

Rembrandt walked the remaining block to work quickly, praying that he was right about Caroline.  If he was wrong it seemed the others would pay the price.

-----

Arturo paced his small cell, bored and annoyed.  He could see no way out.  It seemed he would be forced to rely on the others.  Not a tempting prospect, however competent they were.  He had never been one to rely on anyone, and to be trapped with no hope of escaping without help was probably one of the most frustrating experiences he had encountered.  The boredom was only compounding the problem.

Finally, Arturo decided that his best approach would be to occupy himself usefully.  He could do some work on the theories behind sliding.  Possibly even make some advances, maybe get them home.  He smiled broadly.  The others may have to rescue him, but perhaps he could rescue them in return.  All he needed was pen and paper.  He called to the guard at the end on the row of cells.  "Guard!"

The guard turned, obviously annoyed.  "What is it now, Max?"

"I wonder if you would be so kind as to furnish me with a pen and some paper?" asked Arturo in the friendliest manner possible given his situation.

"Why?" asked the guard.

"To occupy myself while I'm incarcerated here," replied Arturo.

"Doing what?"

"I thought I'd write my memoirs.  What do you think, you blistering idiot?!  I want to do some work, keep my mind occupied," roared Arturo, losing patience more quickly then he had intended.

"Whoa.  No way are you getting to do any work.  I know what sort of work you do.  If you did something like that while you're here, I'd get shot.  You'll just have to be bored."

"What sort of trouble can I possibly cause with a pen and a few pieces of paper, boy?"  Arturo glared at the guard's back as he moved away.  "Imbecile."

Too proud to attempt any further persuasion, Arturo lay back on his hard bed, trying to amuse himself.  But all he could think of was escape.  His brain began to imagine holes appearing in the walls, or the bars unlocking unexpectedly.

Initially, he didn't notice when the door opened for real.  He thought it was simply his mind continuing to play tricks on him.  Then he realized that someone had stepped through.

"Bennish?"  Arturo smiled.

"Max," replied Bennish.

-----

A loud noise suddenly brought Wade back to full consciousness just as she had begun to stir.  There were voices all around and she heard a shot fire.  The people around her all began frantically loading weapons and obviously panicking a little.  Wade wondered where she was, she didn't recognize any of them.  Then she heard a familiar voice call, "Mick's dead, and they're right on top of us.  Run!"

The strangers all obeyed instantly, probably more out of instinct than anything.  Wade tried to follow them, not wanting to find out who was shooting at them.  It was only then that she realized she was stuck.  Her hands were tightly bound behind her and secured to a pipe which ran across the bottom of the wall.  She struggled violently, but there was no hope of escape.  Apprehensively, she awaited the arrival of their aggressors.

-----

"Caroline!" shouted Quinn.  "Won't the church be open now?"

Caroline struggled to open her eyes and gaze intently at the clock by her bedside.  "In about half an hour," she replied, collapsing back onto the bed, wishing that Quinn would exercise a little patience.  She understood that he was worried and couldn't sleep, but she could see no reason for him to stop her from sleeping.

Quinn heaved a sigh of relief and stopped pacing for the first time in several hours when Caroline finally got up.  "I thought you were never coming," he commented, looking slightly hostile.

Caroline ignored him, but she got ready quickly, and soon they were entering the church.

Watching from a distance, Quinn saw Caroline approach the Reverend and greet him.  They were obviously old friends.  He worried that perhaps he was falling for some trap of theirs in the same way Wade might have, but he could see no other way of finding her.

After what seemed like an eternity, Caroline returned.  "He's given me an address.  The place he sent her to yesterday to see the underground."  Caroline smiled and patted his shoulder.  "It should be okay, I know one of them."

Quinn barely spoke to Caroline while they were in the car.  When they arrived at the house the Reverend had directed them to, he simply followed Caroline in.  The door hung partially off its hinges, obviously kicked in, and there was a body in the hallway.

Caroline gasped.  "Mick!  Oh no, how did they find you?"  She turned to Quinn.  "I hope you're not with the people who did this," she stated angrily.  "If I find out that you are..."  She trailed off, unable to think of anything terrible enough to do to him which would make finding Mick acceptable.

Quinn glared back.  "Well, what about Wade?  If these people hurt her, then I think I'd rather be on the other side."

Caroline shook her head, trying not to cry.  "I hope you don't know what you're saying."  Taking a deep breath and pulling herself together, she became more business like.  "We'd better search the rest of the house, see if there's anyone else here.  But quickly, they may return."

They split up and worked through each of the rooms in the house.  There was no one else to be found.  No bodies, no clues, and no sign of Wade.

When they met up again, Caroline hurried Quinn out of the building.  "We have to get out of here.  They check places like this regularly even when they don't have enough men to stake them out.  Move!"

Caroline and Quinn returned to the house in a sombre mood, haunted by the images of Mick dead in the hallway and the damage that had been done to the house.  As Caroline went to unlock the door, it was opened by Rembrandt.

"Have I got a surprise for you!" he grinned, motioning them inside.

"Not now, Rembrandt.  I'm really not in the mood, thanks," mumbled Quinn.

"No way, man, you're gonna love this."

"What?"

Rembrandt danced about a bit then replied, "Wade."

Wade walked out of the kitchen, a little bruised but otherwise okay.  Instantly Quinn's mood brightened.

"I thought you were dead when I saw that house," he exclaimed, hugging her happily.  "What happened?  We were so worried.  How did you get away?"

"Maggie saved me," replied Wade.  "While the soldiers were all running after the underground, she spotted me and helped me get away before they captured me."

"Wow, that was timing," commented Rembrandt, who up until now had had no real idea of just how close Wade's escapade had been.

"Yeah," agreed Wade, "I really owe her."

"Where is she now?" asked Quinn, intrigued.

"She went back.  She thought our best chance of finding Arturo lay in her sticking with the military.  And she said she wanted to have a word or two with her double."

"Oh boy," grinned Rembrandt, "two of them."

Caroline cut in.  "I hate to break up the party, but you have to get out of here."  She looked at Wade.

"What?  Why?" groaned Wade.

"Where do I start?" replied Caroline.  "The military may have seen you at the house and already begun looking for you.  And if we wait to be sure, it will be too late to get out."  She paused for a moment, then added, "or maybe one of the members of the underground, who will almost certainly suspect you of bringing the military to them, will have escaped and at this very moment be describing you to the entire American underground.  Take your pick.  Either way you're not going to help Arturo much."

Quinn glanced at Rembrandt, still unsure of Caroline.  "She really didn't lead the military to them."

"Right," said Caroline, completely failing to reassure Quinn.

"So what now?" asked Rembrandt, looking down at Wade.

"Lay low for the day; don't even answer the door.  Let me see what I can sort out," smiled Caroline.

-----

Relieved to see his old friend, even though he knew it was only a double, Arturo was about to leap off his bunk and embrace Bennish when he noticed the looks the guards were giving him and hesitated.

Bennish spoke, "Maximillion Arturo, the notorious British spy.  I can't believe we finally caught you after all this time.  You realize that we'll have to interrogate you, of course.  That's what we're for."  He paused to grin maniacally.  "We've got to do what's best for the US here, dude."  Bennish glanced at the guards.  "It's okay, you can wait outside," he addressed them.

"What is the meaning of this?" thundered Arturo.

"Don't give me that, Max.  You know what this is about.  I shot the world, and now I want to keep it."  Bennish smiled again, unnervingly.  "All you have to do is keep the secret."

"What on Earth are you on about, boy?  You're babbling like an idiot."

"Hey, less of the idiot, Max.  You know who I am.  I'm the genius who created the atom bomb.  And you are nobody.  Well, actually, you're a British spy, but I told you that already."

"You blistering idiot, I am no such thing!" blustered Arturo.

"You are if I say so, dude," laughed Bennish as he turned to leave, clicking his fingers and pointing at Arturo.  "You are if I say so," he repeated quietly to himself, smiling as if at his own private joke.

-----

Maggie heaved a sigh of relief.  It seemed that no one had noticed Wade in their rush to get to the members of the underground.  She hoped that she had gotten away with it.  Then she heard one of the soldiers remark on the capture of the leader of the underground group, Wilkins.  She groaned.  She'd seen the methods used to glean information in this sort of place, and it seemed way too likely that he would give away vital information.  Maggie had seen enough of this place to know whose side she was on.  She had to do something.  If Wilkins gave information which led to the capture of Wade, or even one of the others, she knew they would never be able to all escape this world.

She returned to her quarters.  She knew she needed time to formulate some sort of plan.  Then she was confronted with another of her problems: her double.  She was still securely tied to the chair, but now she was awake and struggling to get free.  Maggie sighed; she certainly had her work cut out for her.

Maggie's double began to struggle violently, apparently trying to say something.  Cautiously, Maggie removed her gag.

"You'd better not shout for help.  I'm really not in the mood," remarked Maggie.

"You really are me, aren't you?"

"I am," replied Maggie, a little surprised.

"Then you should trust me."

"Why?" responded Maggie.  "So far, you've attacked me and threatened me."

"Because I can help you.  I know how things work here."

"Knowing isn't enough.  You need to know which side you're on."

"I know," replied Maggie's double.  "Do you think I could keep traveling to England and still not realize what was going on?  Rickman and the others, they have no idea.  I think they prefer it that way at the moment.  Rickman sends me out there, then makes sure I write reports which agree with the current policies.  He says there's no point being practical.  He hardly even asks me about the truth anymore."

"So why send you?" asked Maggie.

"They think it may become important to have loyal contacts in Europe at some point."

"Where do you stand, then, if not with Rickman?" asked Maggie directly.

"With you."

"I don't..."

"You can't lie to me, Maggie," interrupted her double.  "I know you too well.  You are against them.  Join me.  This is the greatest hope we might ever have - two of us."

"You'd better be telling the truth," muttered Maggie as she released her double.  But she believed her completely, her double wasn't lying.  "Do you have any plans?"

Maggie's double smiled.  "Just as soon as I can contact my allies, we're in business."

"What about Wilkins?  He got captured, and he may give away one of my friends."

"Don't worry, I can deal with that no problem.  I had to see him anyway before I could put anything into action."

Maggie's double stood up, ready for immediate action.  Maggie stopped her.  "One thing.  How did the military find Wilkins?"

"When I saw you, I knew it was time to act, and I need Wilkins here if this is to work.  I told them."

Maggie's jaw dropped.  She grimaced, thinking how close a call Wade had had.  "This had better be good," she muttered.

"It is," replied her double.

-----

"Hi, Rembrandt," smiled Caroline, as she entered the house after work.  "How long have you got before you have to go out?"

"About an hour," replied Rembrandt.  "You're pretty early today, sweetheart."

"I have a plan, for Wade, but I need your help to convince her and Quinn."

"Oh yeah?"  Rembrandt raised his eyebrows suspiciously.

"I've arranged to send her to England.  She'll be safe enough there."

"England!  That's a little drastic, isn't it?  And she's got to be back here in 5 weeks.  How reliable is the trip?"

"That's no problem, provided you know the right people.  Which I do, by the way.  I can make sure she gets back here by then, if it's important.  But you might be better off just staying--"

"It's really important," interrupted Rembrandt.

"Don't worry about it.  I can handle it," replied Caroline.  "And it's not drastic at all," she added.  "Wade could easily be a target now for soldiers on both sides of our little underground war.  Even Max was only wanted by one side.  You want her to stay here?"

Rembrandt hung his head, conceding.

"What's all this?" asked Wade, having heard Rembrandt shouting.

Rembrandt turned and looked her in the eye, holding both her shoulders tightly.  "Caroline thinks you could be in really serious trouble.  She thinks she can get you to England, out of the heat for a while."

"What?"  Wade turned to look at Caroline, then back to Rembrandt's sombre face.  "I can't go to England.  What about the Slide?  What about the professor?"

"We'll deal with that, girl.  You did your best, but now you're in more trouble than we can hope to deal with.  You know I wouldn't send you away if I didn't think it was necessary."

"You can't SEND me anywhere," retorted Wade abruptly.  Then she saw the look in Rembrandt's eyes and nodded.  "Sorry, I know you wouldn't.  Are you sure it's the only way?"

Rembrandt glanced at Caroline, then looked Wade firmly in the eye.  "I'm sure," he said quietly.

So, within ten minutes, Wade was ready to leave.  Caroline was to drive her to the airport, and return in time for curfew.  Wade would then catch a plane to France, where a connection through to England had been arranged.  As Caroline opened the door, and Wade hugged Rembrandt goodbye, Quinn walked in.

"What's goin' on?" asked Quinn, slightly alarmed by the scene which confronted him.  "Where're you going, Wade?"

"I have to go to England," Wade replied quietly.

"Why?"  Quinn grabbed her arm, trying to stop her from leaving.

"It's too dangerous here, Q-ball," said Rembrandt, patting Quinn on the shoulder.

"Did she convince you of that?" yelled Quinn, no longer caring that Caroline was standing right in front of him.

"She's right, man," whispered Rembrandt.  "Wade could be killed here.  Is that what you want?  Let her go."

Quinn released Wade's arm.  "Are you sure?" he asked her.

Wade nodded, her eyes down on the floor.  "See you soon, Quinn," she whispered.  "Bye, Rembrandt."  Then she followed Caroline out of the door.

-----

By the time she stepped off the plane in Paris, Wade felt as though it had been months since she had seen any of the others, yet it had only been 10 hours.  Confronted by a multitude of signs in a language she couldn't read, and hoards of babbling people, Wade was more than a little apprehensive.  The propaganda she had heard about England itself, and Quinn's suspicions about Caroline, were only making things worse.  For a moment she felt as though the entire world was closing in on her.  Suddenly, everything seemed threatening.  Then a tall, thin man approached her and spoke to her in heavily accented English.

"Allo, are you Wade Wells?"

"Yeah," replied Wade cautiously.

"We were expecting you.  You are trying to get to England, no?"

"Yeah."

"Right this way."

More than a little relieved to no longer be completely alone, Wade followed the man out of the airport.

-----

The following day, Quinn left for work earlier than usual, intending to avoid Rembrandt returning from work.  For the moment he truly didn't want to talk to him.  Rembrandt had known of Quinn's misgivings about Caroline, yet he had still convinced Wade to go along with her plan, and there had been nothing Quinn could do to stop her.

Quinn walked along the streets of San Francisco, weaving in and out of all the frantically busy people rushing towards him.  He couldn't believe Wade had gone too.  With Arturo gone who knows where, and Maggie caught up with the military already, that only left him and Rembrandt.

Quinn kicked the pavement, dejected.  He wished he had a plan, some course of action which in no way relied on Caroline.  So far they were way too dependent on her.  Then he remembered Maggie.  There was no way Maggie would depend on Caroline or anyone else.  Quinn smiled to himself, and somehow felt better.  Maggie could be difficult sometimes, but it was nice to know she would be there to watch your back.

Suddenly ready for anything, as if he'd had a great weight lifted off his mind, Quinn looked up and began to walk more quickly.  He wondered if there was any way for him to get in touch with Maggie - anything he could do to help out with her plans.  It gave him a renewed purpose.

As he strode along, working out how to contact Maggie, he noticed his mom crossing the street towards him.  His heart leapt.  Before he could approach her and talk to her, a hand yanked him back against a wall, away from the road.  He saw his mother pass him by, oblivious.  "Mom," he whispered.  Then he turned to see who had pulled him back.  "Rembrandt."  Quinn glared at him.  "Why did you do that?"

"What're you thinking?  She's not your mother anymore than this is your home town.  Don't go complicating things, Q-ball.  You're already a wanted man."

Quinn's anger faded.  "Hey, Rembrandt.  I'm sorry about last night.  I know Caroline's your friend, and you're only looking out for us.  Like when any of us is about to do something monumentally stupid."  Quinn nodded in the direction of his mom, now several yards down the street.

"No problem, man."  Rembrandt clapped him on the back.  "You know I'd do anything for you or Wade."

Quinn nodded.  "I know, Cryin' Man."

"So just keep your cool, and get to work," laughed Rembrandt, glancing at his watch.  "I'll catch you later!"

Quinn glanced back at his mother once more, then said goodbye to Rembrandt and left for work.  Despite Rembrandt's words, he couldn't help wishing that he could've talked to her.  It would be so good to speak to her again.  He kicked himself mentally for starting their sliding nightmare, wishing once again that he'd been more careful.  But he caught himself before he began to wallow in self-pity, or start thinking about the professor's death.  He had to focus on saving Arturo, and making sure everyone else stayed out of trouble.

-----

"You have to be Wade," grinned a tall, thin man of approximately her age.

Wade looked up at him.  "Yeah," she replied, sizing him up.

"Hi.  I'm Stevie."  He offered his hand.

Wade shook his hand firmly, all the time staring intently at him.  In her head she had always known that British people weren't all like the Professor, but she had met so few that Stevie came as something of a shock.  He looked as if he'd spent the night sleeping in the waiting room while she had been on the ferry.

"Have you been waiting long?" asked Wade.

Stevie caught her look.  "Ah, no.  I always look like this.  Come on."  He led her to a small, dark bus stop.  "We've got to catch the bus to Canterbury."  He glanced around.  "What do you think?  You been here before?"

"No," smiled Wade, "never.  It's good so far though, I got the impression it was always raining."

Stevie chuckled, "Wait 'til we get up north."

"Where are we going?" asked Wade.

"I don't think you'll know it.  It's a place called Baswich.  It's a bit north of Birmingham."

Wade was quiet for a while, trying to take everything in.  It was all so different.  What little she could see of the road was so narrow and curved.  And there was something subtly different about everything that she couldn't quite put her finger on.  She remained quiet while Stevie navigated her onto the bus and then a train.  Then there was the tube in London.  Wade simply took a back seat and watched.  She would've liked to look around, but Stevie looked a little lost himself and she didn't want to confuse him.

When they were finally on the train going north out of London, Stevie interrupted the silence.  "They said you know Max.  Is that true?"

"Yeah," whispered Wade.

"What's he like?" asked Stevie.  "He's a big hero here, you know.  Everyone sees him as a symbol of hope.  That maybe Bennish will be removed and..."  He saw the look on her face.  "Sorry.  I don't suppose you're quite used to people not liking Bennish.  Max is a good guy, though.  I'm sure he is."

Wade smiled.  "I'm just worried about him, that's all.  We've no idea where he is or how to save him, and we have so little time."

"Save him?  He was captured?"  Stevie looked horrified.  "They can't capture Max!  He's like one of those historical figures that--"

Wade interrupted, "He's captured now, and we have to get him out."

Stevie smiled and straightened out his crumpled shirt.  "Right.  I'll just get the commandoes in then."

Wade was startled, trying to imagine Stevie doing anything even remotely like that, then she realized it was a joke.  Despite her concern for Arturo, she couldn't resist smiling.  "Where do I sign up?" she asked.

-----

Quinn strolled casually around town, taking in both the similarities and the differences between this world and his own.  He finally felt a little more comfortable on this earth, now that he knew the rules.

Maggie had called with some brief but promising news on Arturo's whereabouts, and this morning they had gotten a message from Wade, confirming that she had arrived safely.  It had been a long week, especially waiting for news of Wade.  But with that good news combined with his first afternoon off, Quinn wandered around whistling happily to himself, almost without a care in the world, if it hadn't been for his concern for Arturo.

"Quinn?  Is that you?" a voice called from behind him.

Quinn froze.  It was his mother.  He considered running, but he knew he couldn't bear to treat his mom that way.  So he turned round to face her.  "Mom."

"You're alright!  Why didn't you come home straightaway?  I was so worried.  When those men came, and wouldn't explain..." she trailed off.

"I'm not exactly whom you think I am, Mom," began Quinn.

She looked up at him nervously.  "What are you talking about?  You're my son."

"Well, actually, I'm not."  Quinn took a deep breath.  "I'm a double of your son.  I'm your son from a parallel earth."

His mother sighed and shook her head.  "How do you dream up these things?"

"It's true!  There must be some way I can convince you."  Quinn racked his brains for a plausible explanation.

"Come on," said his mom.  "At the very least, you can spare the time to come home and explain it to me, can't you?"

Looking into her eyes, Quinn couldn't resist.  "Yeah, I can manage that," he croaked.

-----

Arriving at his house on this world brought the memories of their last visit flooding back.  Quinn realized that they held the key to convincing his Mom of who he was.

"Mom.  You have to let me explain."

"Okay, explain away.  Tell me how you're not my son."

Quinn described the events of their previous visit, ranging from their attempt to recreate their sliding machine from his double's equipment to his candle-lit dinner with Wade and helping the professor and Bennish to blow up the asteroid.  As soon as he mentioned being in the basement, he could tell that she believed him.  Her mouth fell open as she patiently waited for him to finish.

"I'm so glad it was you that made the mess in the basement.  What with everything that was going on in the world - this world," she corrected herself.  "At the time, we thought it could have been anyone.  My Quinn was quite upset about the mess you made of his equipment, you know?"

"Tell him I'm sorry," smiled Quinn, "but I really have to go..."  He noticed the look on her face.  "What's the matter?  Where's your Quinn?"

"They took him away, Bennish's men," she whispered.  "It was nearly a year ago now.  I was so hoping you were really him.  That he was out."

"He'll get out," whispered Quinn.  "You just have to believe.  But I'm afraid I really have to go."

"Can't you stay a while?" his mother asked.

"I can't, I'm sorry.  But if there's anything I can do for your Quinn, I will."

His mom nodded, tears running down her face.

"He'll be back.  Count on it."  Quinn hugged her briefly, then turned and left before he lost his nerve.  He knew he was taking far too many risks simply being there, and Rembrandt and Maggie were going to need his help rescuing Arturo.  Maybe his double too, it they were lucky.

-----

"Hey.  How'd your day go?" Rembrandt greeted Caroline.  "Any good?"

"Not bad," she smiled.

"Ah, wait a second, someone left this for you."  Rembrandt picked up a small, sealed envelope and handed it to Caroline.

"Strange..."  Caroline read the note inside, then sighed.  "I knew things were going too well.  It's been nicely quiet since Wade left, then this."

"What?" asked Rembrandt, alarmed.

Caroline handed him the note.

"You should be more careful who you invite to stay," read Rembrandt aloud.  "Don't think we don't know who he is."  Rembrandt frowned.  "Huh?"

Caroline passed him a small photograph.  It clearly showed Quinn outside his double's house with Mrs. Mallory.

"What!" exclaimed Rembrandt.  "I warned him.  I told him not to go."

"Who left the note?" asked Caroline, ignoring Rembrandt's remarks.  "Did you see them?"

"Yeah."  Rembrandt took a deep breath to calm himself so that he could think straight.  "It was a girl, about yea high.  Dressed in black and white."

Caroline frowned.  "No one I've heard of."

At that moment, the door opened and Quinn arrived back from work.

"Q-ball.  I thought I warned you about going to see your mom!" shouted Rembrandt, exasperated.

"Hey, chill out Rembrandt.  I didn't have a choice, she saw me.  I couldn't go making a scene in the middle of the street.  Besides, I was careful, no one saw me," smiled Quinn.

"You sure about that?" asked Rembrandt, thrusting the note and photo into Quinn's hand.

Quinn read the note twice.  "I don't believe it.  Where did you get this?"

"For a genius, sometimes you can be real stupid, Q-ball," groaned Rembrandt.  "Some girl left it."

Quinn blinked.  "A girl?"

"Yeah," replied Rembrandt.

As Rembrandt described her again, Quinn realized who he was talking about.  "She's the one from work who kept questioning me.  I guess she was more curious than I'd anticipated."  Quinn rolled his eyes.  "She's just a nosey kid, nothing to worry about."

"You don't understand," interrupted Caroline.  "Everyone here is someone to worry about.  She could have told anyone.  All it takes is just one person in authority to believe her, to take notice.  You have to get out of here."

"What?  Run away because of this?  That's ridiculous," exclaimed Quinn.

"You're not thinking with the times, Quinn.  What other people think you're doing is important here.  You are in trouble."

"You're just kicking me out."

"Q-ball!  Man, I don't believe you just said that!" objected Rembrandt.

"Whatever.  You have to decide whether you trust me or not, once and for all.  Right now, Quinn.  No more suspicions.  Don't think I didn't notice.  Either you can trust me and I'll help you get away, or you can simply leave this house.  Do you understand?"  Caroline glared at him.

Quinn looked down at his feet and nodded slightly.

"So?  Which will it be?" demanded Caroline.

Quinn looked Caroline in the eye for several long seconds, trying to decide.  Then he glanced at Rembrandt, and the decision was made.  It wasn't necessarily a question of trusting Caroline as much as relying on Rembrandt's judgement - something he always regretted not doing in retrospect.  "I trust you," he replied.  "But if I run away too, what about the professor?  We've not exactly made much progress, just got ourselves into trouble."  *At least Wade got into trouble trying to help Arturo,* he thought.

"We'll manage," responded Caroline.

"I have another point," added Rembrandt.  "We have to do more than get Max out, we have to try and put right what we may have caused."

"What?" asked Caroline.

"How?" enquired Quinn, not seeing Rembrandt's point.

"Maybe you can put those brains of yours to good use," suggested Rembrandt.  "Look, the only reason Bennish has an advantage is the atom bomb..."

"... take that away and the balance is restored!  I have to help someone build an atom bomb?"  Quinn saw what Rembrandt was getting at.

"Did I miss something?" asked Caroline.

Rembrandt grinned.  "I'll say you did!  But then I did too at the time.  I'll explain later.  Do you know if there is anyone currently attempting to create an atom bomb?"

"I know just the place," laughed Caroline, humoring them.

-----

Exhausted from trying to get Quinn safely out of the country so quickly, Caroline finally got to sit down and rest once Quinn was on his way.  "I hope you're not planning on doing anything stupid," she told Rembrandt.

"Relax," replied Rembrandt.

"Maybe.  Once you've explained to me where you're all from," answered Caroline.

"Now that's a long story," chuckled Rembrandt.  "Can it wait 'til tomorrow?"

"Sure," replied Caroline, "tomorrow's fine."  Relaxing comfortably on the sofa with a glass of wine, Caroline's hand knocked the TV remote, and she switched it on to see if there was any news.

"... once again.  Today, a press statement released from the White House by President Bennish announces the scheduled execution of the British spy Max one month from now.  The President says that prolonged imprisonment of such a dangerous enemy of the state and country would only increase the risk of outside interference."

Rembrandt and Caroline exchanged horrified glances.  Then Rembrandt noted the scheduled date of execution.

"Oh man.  That's the day we slide!"

-----

Wade was relaxing in the little room she had been sleeping in, watching the rain.

"Hey, Wade!  I've got some news for you," shouted Stevie as he climbed the stairs.  "Can I come in?" he asked as he reached the top.

"Sure," replied Wade.

"A friend of yours is coming to stay," grinned Stevie.

"Who?"

"Quinn Mallory.  Apparently he's going to help our guys with the bomb."

"Bomb?  What bomb?  Why is Quinn coming here?" Wade asked, puzzled.

"You should ask Joe about the bomb," replied Stevie, referring to his house mate.  "He actually works with them from time to time."

"But Quinn..."

"We're hoping he'll be able to sort out some of the stuff our guys are struggling with."  Stevie looked at her, questioning her attitude.  "I thought you'd be pleased."

"Quinn building an atom bomb?  That's how all this trouble started in the first place," groaned Wade, ignoring Stevie's confused look.

-----

When Quinn finally arrived late the following day, Wade waited to meet him with a man called Jason who was apparently the leader of a group of researchers working on the bomb, or so Joe had told her.  Wade didn't get much chance to speak to Quinn then because Jason was too keen to get to work.  But she did get a moment with him just as they left.

She came away from their meeting no less worried.  It seemed that Quinn was as unwilling as ever to think about the lasting consequences of any scientific discovery he might make.

-----

Caroline marveled at the emptiness of her house.  After two weeks of Quinn, Wade, and Rembrandt living with her, she had grown to appreciate the quiet.  With Rembrandt still working nights, the house was empty in the evening.  As Caroline began to doze off slightly, the phone rang, waking her suddenly.

"Hello...  Who is it, please?" she asked.

"You don't recognize me, even after all our time together?  I'm hurt, Caroline."

"Alan.  What do you want?"

"Well, I came upon some rather interesting information regarding a young man named Quinn Mallory the other day.  Official records say he's been incarcerated for treason for around a year, but certain sources say otherwise.  The word is, he's been staying with you."

"The word's wrong.  Come and look for yourself, if you want."

"No need, I know you got him out of the way.  The question is, what about the other guy?  The one who so generously saved you from me all that time ago.  What's his name now...?"

"Alan..." began Caroline, before realizing that he had hung up.  She replaced the phone receiver, and sat watching her hands shake for several minutes.  It seemed unlikely anything would ever return to normal.  The trouble had truly begun.

-----

Rembrandt entered the church for his third afternoon of work with the Reverend.  He had begun to try and help the Reverend speed up the process of reclaiming the country.

"Hey, Rembrandt," called the Reverend.  "I think I got some news for you."

"Yeah?  What?"

"It seems you were right.  More than half my congregation agree that things are getting out of hand here.  Others may simply have been too frightened to agree.  Not everyone believes that even I can be trusted with such a secret."

"So where does that leave us?"

"Let's just say that resistance will be minimal when things finally get that far, but you should still be careful.  Don't ever mention Max either, that's asking for trouble."

"So what can I do?  There has to be something I can do," asked Rembrandt, hopefully.

"Well, you could join the underground I suppose.  They're always after new recruits.  At least then you'd know what you were dealing with.  But on the other hand, I'm sure you could make more difference around here with your talents.  You're good with people, and there isn't as much use for that in the underground as there is here."

Rembrandt chuckled.  "Sure.  I'm not sure I fancied being a Commando anyway, and after the trouble Wade had..."

"The girl?  She was with you?  I couldn't believe how that turned out.  They're not usually so resistant, and yet they assumed that she was an enemy.  I have no idea why.  I don't suppose that attack afterwards looked too good either."  The Reverend shook his head.  "She is all right, isn't she?"

"She's fine, Rev.  It wasn't your fault."  Rembrandt patted his shoulder.  "It wasn't your fault."

-----

"So?" Maggie asked her double.  "This plan, what is it?"

"I've spoken to Wilkins before.  He's a bright man.  He's willing to coordinate with the military in a joint attack.  We need him, and we need to have him without anyone being aware."

"Oh yeah?  And who out of this bunch is going to be in this joint attack?  Last count pretty much everyone came down on the wrong side," objected Maggie.

"That's my problem.  Look, Wilkins need never know that you're not me.  All you have to do is break him out and persuade someone to take his place for a while.  The guards don't know his face; no one'll know Wilkins is gone 'til Rickman gets to him.  That gives us plenty of time."

"So while you coordinate the military objectors, you want me to find some guy to sit in a cell in Wilkins' place, and meanwhile get Wilkins to get the underground ready," stated Maggie sarcastically.

"That's right," replied her double.

"No problem," groaned Maggie.

"Good," said her double as she left the room.

Maggie pinched the arch of her nose, trying to imagine who she could possibly persuade to take Wilkins' place.

-----

Caroline kicked the cupboard door shut, hurting her toes in the process.  "Ouch!  Why will nothing go right!?" she yelled.

Rembrandt shot into the kitchen to see what all the noise was about.  "What's the matter, sweetheart?"

"Don't call me that!"

"Okay, Caroline," amended Rembrandt smoothly.

"And don't look so smug," she added.

"What is the matter, Caroline?  What's going on?" asked Rembrandt, genuinely concerned by her odd behavior.

"It's none of--" began Caroline.  Then she stopped.  "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"What's wrong?" repeated Rembrandt.

"It's..." Caroline began to cry quietly on Rembrandt's shoulder.

Rembrandt put his arms round her and waited until she felt she could explain, wondering what sort of pressure it would take to reduce this normally strong, determined woman to tears.  He was a little puzzled.  Things had been far quieter this week than before, with Quinn and Wade gone, but he waited patiently.

-----

Arturo gazed at the ceiling of his cell.  He had had a lot of time to think during his incarceration.  As the days had worn into weeks, he had finally resigned himself to the possibility that the others would be unable to rescue him.  They had managed some miraculous feats, but sometimes such things would be impossible.

He surprised himself by how calm he was at the prospect of his own execution, but somehow seeing Bennish again had reminded him.  He wished there was some way to tell the others that they should concentrate on saving Quinn from the general prison, rather than risk a trip into solitary for him.  He also wished that he could tell them not to feel guilty.  He remembered how they had felt about his double's death, and prayed that they could take his more easily.  It seemed just, somehow, for his life to be ended by Bennish, the protege who he had always felt he had let down.  He just hoped that some good might come of it.

"You, Max!" a familiar voice called to Arturo.

"Quinn?" asked Arturo.  "What are you doing here?"

"When I found out who you were, I had to come and meet you," replied Quinn's double.  "I want to know who the guy is who impersonated me.  The one who was working with you."

To his initial relief, Arturo realized that this wasn't Quinn after all.  It was his double.  "Working with me?  Doing what?  I have done nothing," retorted Arturo, unsure precisely how to handle the young man's anger.

"Done nothing?  You and that other guy ruined my life!  I'm glad you're finally here to pay.  But where is he?  The one who looks like me.  The one who ruined my experiments at home."  The alternate Quinn's face began to grow red as he finally saw his opportunity to vent his pent up rage at the hand he had been dealt.

Arturo groaned inwardly, realizing the effects of their Quinn's part in the launching of the atom bomb performed by his counterpart and Bennish.  He considered sympathizing, but knew that no words of apology could make up for what this Quinn had been through.  Instead he gave Quinn a dose of realism.  "Do you think I truly did what they accuse me of?  Do you think they care?  We are prisoners of necessity and your innocence is irrelevant.  But we will not be prisoners forever.  Governments such as this are rarely sustainable."

Quinn was silent.  He heard the truth in Arturo's voice and was forced to reconsider some of his assumptions about the actions of Arturo and his own impersonator.  "So what did you do then?  If you aren't Max, then how come you're so exactly like him?"

Arturo beamed, he had succeeded in arousing the young man's intellectual curiosity.  He cleared his throat and began to explain sliding and what little he knew of the events in which his double had participated three years ago.

-----

"Are you sure this Anne will be the right person to talk to?" Wade asked Stevie.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?  It is your friend you're causing trouble for," he replied.

"I'm sure."

"Then Anne is the person to talk to," confirmed Stevie.  "She campaigns for all sorts of things."

"Lead on then," said Wade, gesturing for Stevie to knock on the door.

A tall, thin woman in her mid-twenties opened the door, and immediately recognized Stevie.  She said nothing at first, observing them as far as Wade could tell, then she led them into the front room.

"Anne, this is Wade," began Stevie.  "She has a concern you might be interested in."

Anne and Stevie both turned to Wade as she began to explain about the scientists' current attempts to create an atom bomb.  Without