Wheels Within Wheels
Who: Jack Brennan
When: Day 36, around sunset
Where: Approx. 24,000 miles above Fandom Isle
Invited: No one
Status: Closed
Twenty-four thousand miles above the earth a nickel-iron asteroid a quarter of a mile across falls endlessly around the planet. Its molniya orbit takes it over an obscure island in the middle of the Pacific for eight out of every twelve hours before whipping around the planet. Not an ideal orbit but geostationary orbits are crowded around twenty-first century earth. Too crowded for Brennan's habitat to remain undiscovered even with it's technological cloak of invisibility.
Brennan sits in a form-fitting chair at the very center of the hollowed-out asteroid, surrounded by banks of monitors. On each monitor scenes play out on another earth. An endless array of earths, each as real as the last--and each subtly different from the last. His eyes scan across the images ceaselessly for seventy-two hours at a stretch. A true Pak protector could sit there for years with the immovable patience of a stone. But Brennan had lived as a human for forty-eight years before his encounter with Phhssthpok and subsequent transformation.
A true Pak protector would never rely on automation either, would never--could never--trust machines to shoulder part of the burden. Brennan could and did. It evened out. Artificial intelligences of his own design study countless more alternate timelines, noting similarities, divergences and alerting him to events that needed his attention. The bank of monitors he watched were those most likely to produce useful or troublesome situations.
Brennan reaches out for another root. Grasping it in a hand that looks as if it should belong to an old, old man with hands swollen by crippling arthritis, he eats it quickly and efficiently, slicing it into chunks with his sharp edged beak of a mouth. He swallows the pieces and continues studying the images directly before him. The island twenty-four thousand miles below him is the nexus of events across countless timelines; the fulcrum by which whomever wielded the lever could move worlds.
DHARMA was the front-runner in that competition at present. Brennan had seen what their victory could mean in too many dead timelines. DHARMA, or one of its myriad subsidiaries--Wolfram & Hart, Yoyodyne, Cyberdyne Systems, Stark Industries--could not be allowed to succeed. Brennan's first foray into disrupting their plans had been diverting the artificial wormhole transporting Daniel Jackson and his companions from the SGC to another world.
The castaways believed it was DHARMA's doing--as Brennan had intended. His manipulations had to be subtle. In every timeline in which his interference had been discovered things had gone worse than if he'd done nothing. Subtlety did not come easily to him; were he a true Pak protector he suspected he'd find it impossible. He'd stretched credulity by doing it a second time, delivering Radek Zalenka to the island where he could work with Rodney McKay and the Doctor.
The Doctor! Discovering the existence of the Time Lord had been shocking. Observing the arrival of the TARDIS had taught Brennan things he'd never suspected about the nature of the universe. It had taken him nearly a month to deduce the underlying physical laws of time travel. Once he'd worked out the mathematics, the implications led him inexorably to the Time Scoop. And that device--finished only hours ago, had greatly increased his ability to nudge events in a more desirable direction.
Brennan flicked a switch and several monitors switched to views of his sleeping guests. Xander Harris, whose presence was more likely than any other factor to prevent Willow Rosenberg from succumbing to the dark impulses DHARMA could so easily harness to their own ends; Bill Campbell, green-skinned soldier from a distant and unlikely timeline, whose cheerful mien and physical attributes--and the files downloaded to his BrainPal in the last few minutes--would likely prove helpful to the castaways; Jayne Cobb, a brute and a thug, but capable of more than even he knew when properly motivated, and who would protect River Tam to the bitter end, as was all too likely.
They slept, kept unconscious since the moment he'd snatched them from their native timelines. DHARMA would be introducing new subjects to the island shortly. They were not expecting these three but the nature of the island and the forces in play there made their introduction plausible. Magic was powerful but often unpredictable; disrupting the spell and replacing three chosen subjects with his own sleepers would undoubtedly cause heads to roll within DHARMA but they would not suspect deliberate intervention.
Brennan leaned forward, watching various readouts carefully. It was nearly time. The substitution required juggling fantastic forces with absolute precision. A mistake could obliterate the island. Brennan has been accused of playing God before, of gambling with lives not his own. It's a fair cop. But on the other hand, he hasn't failed yet.
Brennan's hand flicked out with superhuman speed to touch a switch as the timer reached zero. His guests vanished from the monitor screens. On two other monitors providing him with orbital views of the stone mushrooms, Brennan saw his agents appear along with the other new subjects--and agents of DHARMA. None moved for several minutes. When the first newcomer stirred Brenna reached out for another root and ate it, settling back in his chair to watch.
When: Day 36, around sunset
Where: Approx. 24,000 miles above Fandom Isle
Invited: No one
Status: Closed
Twenty-four thousand miles above the earth a nickel-iron asteroid a quarter of a mile across falls endlessly around the planet. Its molniya orbit takes it over an obscure island in the middle of the Pacific for eight out of every twelve hours before whipping around the planet. Not an ideal orbit but geostationary orbits are crowded around twenty-first century earth. Too crowded for Brennan's habitat to remain undiscovered even with it's technological cloak of invisibility.
Brennan sits in a form-fitting chair at the very center of the hollowed-out asteroid, surrounded by banks of monitors. On each monitor scenes play out on another earth. An endless array of earths, each as real as the last--and each subtly different from the last. His eyes scan across the images ceaselessly for seventy-two hours at a stretch. A true Pak protector could sit there for years with the immovable patience of a stone. But Brennan had lived as a human for forty-eight years before his encounter with Phhssthpok and subsequent transformation.
A true Pak protector would never rely on automation either, would never--could never--trust machines to shoulder part of the burden. Brennan could and did. It evened out. Artificial intelligences of his own design study countless more alternate timelines, noting similarities, divergences and alerting him to events that needed his attention. The bank of monitors he watched were those most likely to produce useful or troublesome situations.
Brennan reaches out for another root. Grasping it in a hand that looks as if it should belong to an old, old man with hands swollen by crippling arthritis, he eats it quickly and efficiently, slicing it into chunks with his sharp edged beak of a mouth. He swallows the pieces and continues studying the images directly before him. The island twenty-four thousand miles below him is the nexus of events across countless timelines; the fulcrum by which whomever wielded the lever could move worlds.
DHARMA was the front-runner in that competition at present. Brennan had seen what their victory could mean in too many dead timelines. DHARMA, or one of its myriad subsidiaries--Wolfram & Hart, Yoyodyne, Cyberdyne Systems, Stark Industries--could not be allowed to succeed. Brennan's first foray into disrupting their plans had been diverting the artificial wormhole transporting Daniel Jackson and his companions from the SGC to another world.
The castaways believed it was DHARMA's doing--as Brennan had intended. His manipulations had to be subtle. In every timeline in which his interference had been discovered things had gone worse than if he'd done nothing. Subtlety did not come easily to him; were he a true Pak protector he suspected he'd find it impossible. He'd stretched credulity by doing it a second time, delivering Radek Zalenka to the island where he could work with Rodney McKay and the Doctor.
The Doctor! Discovering the existence of the Time Lord had been shocking. Observing the arrival of the TARDIS had taught Brennan things he'd never suspected about the nature of the universe. It had taken him nearly a month to deduce the underlying physical laws of time travel. Once he'd worked out the mathematics, the implications led him inexorably to the Time Scoop. And that device--finished only hours ago, had greatly increased his ability to nudge events in a more desirable direction.
Brennan flicked a switch and several monitors switched to views of his sleeping guests. Xander Harris, whose presence was more likely than any other factor to prevent Willow Rosenberg from succumbing to the dark impulses DHARMA could so easily harness to their own ends; Bill Campbell, green-skinned soldier from a distant and unlikely timeline, whose cheerful mien and physical attributes--and the files downloaded to his BrainPal in the last few minutes--would likely prove helpful to the castaways; Jayne Cobb, a brute and a thug, but capable of more than even he knew when properly motivated, and who would protect River Tam to the bitter end, as was all too likely.
They slept, kept unconscious since the moment he'd snatched them from their native timelines. DHARMA would be introducing new subjects to the island shortly. They were not expecting these three but the nature of the island and the forces in play there made their introduction plausible. Magic was powerful but often unpredictable; disrupting the spell and replacing three chosen subjects with his own sleepers would undoubtedly cause heads to roll within DHARMA but they would not suspect deliberate intervention.
Brennan leaned forward, watching various readouts carefully. It was nearly time. The substitution required juggling fantastic forces with absolute precision. A mistake could obliterate the island. Brennan has been accused of playing God before, of gambling with lives not his own. It's a fair cop. But on the other hand, he hasn't failed yet.
Brennan's hand flicked out with superhuman speed to touch a switch as the timer reached zero. His guests vanished from the monitor screens. On two other monitors providing him with orbital views of the stone mushrooms, Brennan saw his agents appear along with the other new subjects--and agents of DHARMA. None moved for several minutes. When the first newcomer stirred Brenna reached out for another root and ate it, settling back in his chair to watch.