by Simon Hawke
"I think you'll find it very interesting," said Forrester, "and highly disturbing, in light of your recent experiences. Perhaps it's only a coincidence. Perhaps it's also only a coincidence that Wells also wrote a novel called The Time Machine."
"Those would be two very interesting coincidences," Steiger said, uneasily.
"Yes, they would indeed," said Forrester. "I realize you've just returned from a mission, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to send you out again almost immediately. Drink up. I want you to get a good night's sleep. You'll be clocking out at oh-six-hundred. I think you three should have a long talk with Mr. H.G. Wells."
* * *
Drakov stood alone in the dark, dank cellar of the ruined castle. He held a torch in his left hand and in his right, he held a small electronic box.
"It seems as if we have come full circle, my friend," he said, looking down. "It began in a ruin much like this one, in Ruritania. In the cold, damp corridors of Zenda Castle, where I first encountered the temporal agents. And it is a fitting environment for your beginning, as well."
He pressed a button on the tiny box, activating the implant that would revive the creature from its deathlike sleep.
"You shall give them nightmares," he said, chuckling. "And you shall only be the first of many."
He put the black box back inside his pocket, activated his warp disc and disappeared. For a moment, all was silent in the cellar of the ruined castle, and then a hand came out from beneath the coffin lid.