Meanwhile, in 3025.
At the agency's headquarters, the atmosphere was unusually quiet.
Then, without warning, alarms screamed to life.
Lights of every color flooded the room, drowning it in chaos. The module Peter had used began to malfunction, and a cascade of notifications blared across every screen:
"Alert! Alert! A massive temporal distortion has been detected — trajectory: year 2463. Explorer Peter's vital signs are unstable."
Mira felt her chest tighten. A tangle of emotions pulled at her from every direction. The other agents weren't doing much better. Peter could be self-centered at times — everyone knew that — but he genuinely cared about the people around him. And right now, that mattered.
Director Lorn burst out of his office, breathless. Age spares no one — not even the best fighter the agency had ever produced. He had run the entire length of the corridor. His face said everything his voice hadn't yet.
"What's happening?"
One of the agents, just as disoriented, turned to answer.
"It's Peter. There's a problem, but we don't know what yet. His internal platform isn't responding."
"Initiate the extraction protocol. If he's in trouble, we pull him out by force."
Agents scrambled at their stations, fingers flying across holographic interfaces, entering sequences that few of them had ever had to use before. The agency's central AI came online:
"Extraction protocol initiated. Estimated completion: five minutes."
The tension in the room dropped slightly. Everyone exhaled. It was going to be fine.
Then the module spoke again.
"Extraction protocol failed."
Lorn ordered them to try again immediately. Same result.
He stood there for a long moment, staring at the screen.
"What did you do, Peter?"