Tom Fleet was a bit of a misfit as the second son of a minor English noble in the 1880s. Once he finished his schooling he had little to do. His grandfathers had left him adequate finances for his needs and with his elder brother set to take the title, he gave in to his fascination with gadgets and began to tinker and invent. His goal was to create a sky craft to go to the moon. Surely if Jules Verne’s characters could go there and many other places, he could do as well.<br><br>Rowan Farrell followed in his Uncle Gordon’s footsteps, joining the UniFleet, but went a step farther and became an officer. Assigned to his first command level post, he takes a small patrol ship out to scout a region of interest to the Council and report if any signs of the enemy Angevirian Empire in the area. When one of his crew spots a strange, tiny craft, he decides to capture and study it. After all it could be an Angevirian Trojan horse. But the odd cylindrical vessel holds only one man, unconscious and suffering from hypothermia and lack of oxygen. When the man comes to, he claims to come from the earth ... five centuries in the past!

Tom Fleet’s Machine

Time to quit daydreaming and get to work. He finished his inspection of the craft and continued the pre-flight work by checking every member of the crew and their gear. All was in order. As soon as Cantor deigned to arrive, they could lift off. He sipped a bit of bland distilled water from his hydrator pack and tried to calm the flutter of excitement somewhere behind his breastbone. This was what he’d worked for, longed for and finally arrived at the point to do.


Cantor showed up soon, walking evenly at least and only a bit red of nose and rheumy about the eyes. Rowan snapped him a sharp salute, reporting all in order. Almost at once they prepared for lift off. No great power was needed to break clear of Titan’s mild gravity. Guardian Wasp rose cleanly into the dark void and settled to cruising speed, headed for distant places and her assigned duties.


Chapter 3