Avander Promontory - Agent Ouroboros

[Avander Promontory]

Time Index: ∞

Every day was a long day when you worked for the Temporal Integrity Commission. It had gotten to the point that Agent 121 could no longer remember a time before they worked as an agent. To be fair, temporal aphasia was a common condition amongst the time agents. 121’s supervisor, 224, said that everyone in the Commission had aphasia to a greater or lesser degree. As the agents were regularly reminded, it was a small price to pay to keep the timelines secure and the linear-lifers safe.

Agent 121 thought of those linears often. Trillions upon trillions of them, just living ordinary lives of simple cause and effect. Never knowing that time agents were tirelessly at work, making small, but significant interventions to keep their lives protected and productive. A veritable army of unseen angels, guarding the linears and ensuring their futures.

Agent 121 stepped out of the chronometric detangler renewed and refreshed. It wasn’t exactly a mind-wipe, more like a “brain shower.” Such mental hygiene was important in this job. Too many overlapping timelines in one skull could really set one on the path to full-blown temporal psychosis. But now mentally fresh and clean, Agent 121 was ready for their new assignment.

As an agent in the Ouroboros Division, Agent 121 was assigned one particular linear-life at a time. To ensure chronologic stability, they started at the end and then worked progressively backwards to the start of their assigned linear’s life. That way, they could ensure a smooth continuum towards the ideal outcome. There were a great many advantages to knowing the end from the beginning and Agent 121 reflected, for either the first or fiftieth time, that this was the way to live life.

Agent 121 slipped into their clean white personal timepod and initiated their mission. They were assigned Target 212–Command insisted on numbers instead of names, it helped keep appropriate professional distance.

 

Time Index: +42 years (relative) 2402 Earthdate

This was the end. Target 212 had been stuck in a gravity well for a quarter of a century external time, but only a few days had passed for the target and their crew aboard their Starfleet vessel. It was time to bring them out. Command indicated this was a high-profile target, perhaps a potential to be recruited to the Commission itself. Exposure to time dilation was a good prerequisite to Commission life. But before the target could be recruited, Agent 121 had to ensure Target 212 escaped this anomaly.

Agent 121 analyzed the anomalous gravity well’s composition. Pretty standard stuff–it was a class 3 with Epsilon-type dilation. The temporal agent synced their vessel with realtime and initiated an anti-tachyon burst. The target’s vessel emerged from the anomaly and Agent 121 reactivated their time-cloak.

Another timepod pulled along Agent 121’s personal vessel. It was the supervisor. 224 hailed them.

“Great work, 121. I’ll take the target from here. You will have shepherded a great new agent into the Commission! Now go ensure that they get to this point.”

224 was friendly enough, but almost always all business. 121 considered them their best friend, such as it was. 121’s memories were a little piecemeal, but 224 had been with them in the Commission as long as they could remember.

121 imputed the next nexus point in their target’s life and jumped to the past.

 

Time Index: +42 years (relative) 2377 Earthdate

Command’s instructions were delightfully paradoxical sometimes. But only Command could accurately process the fates of individuals and species. Command knew best, what would work out in the end. Still, sometimes the instructions were a bit… ironic. Case in point: now Agent 121 had to ensure 212 got safely into that gravity-well anomaly.

This took a little more doing than the extraction had or will have had. Target 212 was on a nearby starfleet vessel. The Prometheus-class USS Wyvern was on assignment in deep space, but the anomaly was just outside their sensor range.

121 entered the timestream and boosted the output of the gravity well’s polar jets until the Wyvern changed course to investigate. 121 ensured their timepod was phased-shifted relative to realtime and observed the Wyvern until it was securely trapped in the time-dilating anomaly.

121 smiled. They knew how this crew’s story ended and this would keep them safe for the next quarter century.

Right on cue, Command’s next instruction came in. Now 121 had to go back and ensure that the Wyvern was assigned this particular deep space mission

 

Time Index: +1-40 years (relative) 2335-2375 Earthdates

And on and on it went.

A series of nudges, an adjustment here, a tweak there.

121 worked their way back through 212’s life. Always staying just out of direct contact (Command’s rules), but ever-present, none-the-less.

As the years passed, 121 grew rather fond of 212, despite the encouragement to maintain professional distance. But it didn’t matter, after years and years watching over them, 121 felt a certain kinship to 212. They were theirs.

It was the little details that really connected them. When 212 was a teenager, they suffered from severe memory aphasia, not too dissimilar to 121’s own temporal aphasia. The linear doctors, of course, had no clue how to help. But 121 did, and the treatment proved effective and lasting, enabling the target to continue their destiny at Starfleet Academy.

By the time 121 got to 212’s childhood, the agent was convinced that 212 was one exceptional child. Before 212 was born, their parents had tried unsuccessfully for a child for years. 212 was the miracle, they had said. With “a touch of destiny” about them. 121 smiled at this. While the next instructions from Command hadn’t come through yet, 121 had a sneaking suspicion that the Commision might just play a role in that ‘miracle.’

 

Time Index: 0 years (relative) 2235 Earthdate

Unexpectedly, 224 joined them for this next, potentially last assignment of this mission. Synced up with realtime, their pods kept them just enough out of phase to remain unobservable–invisible and intangible to the linears. 212 was about to be birthed and having two time agents visible might be too distracting for the attendants.

“How have you found this assignment?” 224 asked kindly–more as a friend than a supervisor.

“Oh, it’s been fabulous. We’ve got a good one here. Best assignment ever–” 121 grinned knowingly before adding, “--that I can remember!”

The older agent didn’t seem phased by the joke, but continued on, something else obviously on their mind.

“But did you connect with the target?”

It was a loaded question. By Commision rules, the answer should be “no.” But that wasn’t exactly truthful. 121 answered cautiously, but honestly.

“I found them an excellent target and know they will make a good Temporal Integrity Commission agent. In their future. I’m just sad that my part in this mission is coming to an end.”

“That’s good,” 224 nodded, “Very good. I have one more assignment to give you in this mission.”

121 looked over at the pregnant woman about to give birth to the target they had spent a veritable lifetime guarding. One more assignment was too little. Maybe two “brain showers” would help dull the pain that was arising in the depths of their heart.

“This last assignment’s a little different actually.” 224 brought a device out. It looked somewhat similar to the headgear of a chronometric detangler, but it had an external component, not unlike a transmitter.

“This is a neural transference device.” 224 answered the unasked question. “It allows for the consciousness of one individual to be transferred to another host. Unfortunately, it also scrambles the mind a little bit. But the core essence will remain.”

121 was intrigued, but wasn’t sure they understood. “So how are we going to use it?”

224 sighed. “I’m going to transfer your consciousness to 212. I already ensured the body would be conceived, but the body’s empty. To function successfully, they need an animating intelligence.” 224 paused to let their words sink in, then became more blunt. “That animating intelligence is you, 121.”

The supervisor looked 121 in the eyes. “And it has to be now.”

121 had no words. Questions swirled, but none made it to their lips. After an infinity outside the time-space continuum, they were suddenly out of time. This was unexpected, but they wouldn’t, couldn’t say ‘no.’

 224 moved toward 121, raising the device to their head “May I?”.

121 nodded slowly, but deliberately, and the older agent slipped the device on the younger’s head. With a quite *whir* it was activated. The time-space barrier that veiled their worlds faded. Their long days as 121 were at an end. Their days as 212 had just begun.