Lucky 2

From Day One, I can tell the instructor is eyeing me more than the rest. After a month, out of class, she starts, a way too casually, "uncanny, never heard a foreigner mimic those sounds to perfection, just is not done. I'd bet money Jasmattie, you are a past-life German."
"I really prefer to avoid religion."
"Checking the file, you're Arya Samaj. The tiny offshoot of Hinduism which doesn't believe in reincarnation. Sure puts you in the minority."
"Please, I prefer to avoid religion."
"It ain't religion, we could walk across that street, get you a genuine past-life regression."
"No!"
"Right then, as I see it, if you are, wonderful, they tend to do best in time travel. If you aren't, then your language talents are all the more remarkable." Wicked smile, "so, get lotsa dreams?"
My hot blush gives it away.
"I'll bet you do. Got the markings all over you."
"I ah well ah.."
"Hey look, no pressure. Wanna talk, nothing gets on your file. One Kamerad to another."
"You speak as one who was there."
"Your face is different this time of course. Your aura, unmistakable. I know who you are, were I mean."
"In that case, maybe we should talk. Have a variety of rather vivid dreams, plagued me since childhood."
"And so they will, til you deal with it."
After an afternoon, I walk away half-convinced, half-sceptical. Either way, best to just forget it. Not good times to dwell on.

My best friend during the German course is Homa, an Afghan-American. I tell her the real story of Skeldon, not the sanitized westernized version which went on my file.
Her take, acid test would be a thorough medical. If it turns out I'm capable of children, then it was all just a bad joke. If I'm infertile, well then could be my natural state or the obeah curse.
The Doctor looks very uneasy as she explains some passages just seemed to be welded shut, had been since childhood. Yes I am 100% infertile.
End of the course, I graduate top of the class.
We adjourn to an undisclosed location in rural Ireland. We're confined to compound except for any training maneuvers. The world at large believes this to be an ultra-secure anti-terr training facility. It ain't it's Time Corps.
Though lodged together, we are split into 2 groups, based on personality and aptitude. The majority is deemed best operating in pairs. They will do relatively short jumps back in time, mostly police function, to catch murderers red-handed.
The true eccentrics, such as myself, who are deemed only capable of lone work, are for long jumps. Way back in time, recon and research. No actual killing of course, that could alter history. We end up doing "reading" as in Brit-style independent university study.
We are free to read any times and places in history we choose. As our overall Prof says, "to see where the compass ends up pointing." We read on a topic, discuss it with her, then do a research paper.
Me, I just cannot get enough of the epoch of circa 1950 to circa 2100.
In the common room we soon see the differences between groups. The large group of cops are mostly stodgy, overly conservative, averse to risk. The minority, for lone recon, really do not care. To us, it's a case of not being overly upset at the thought of death or being stranded in time. By and large, I'm fairly wimpy, considerably less outcast than mosta this group. Most ultimately have nothing to come back to, hence don't mind having some fun and risk.
There is also the chance at fame and fortune. Actual hard data is confidential. Soft data, as in how people of an era lived, color commentary if you will, is not. If you can write a novella or novel about the Ancients (which of course must pass through censors), you can keep the royalties.
Duration of jumps is another difference. For cops, it's mostly day trips. For us, it's several months or years on site, passing covertly as members of the society.
Booze, well see the difference. There is a wet canteen, for obvious reasons, don't want people tempted to sneak off base. Cops love to get rinko-stinko and often. Us lone wolf wanderers rarely do. I always limit myself to one drink, form good habits. Hey I don't mind dying on something glorious, but I ain't gonna die of drunken stupidity like so many in Skeldon.

My training jump is the 1970 October Crisis in Canada. Due to TDF (time distortion factor), I'm gone several days, but it gives several months on site.
I cannot give you the hard data, but the soft - wow - I am bigtime impressed. You see, Canada staggered to the very brink of civil war as Quebec separatists began bombings and kidnapping. And yet the rebellion was crushed with gentlemanly precision. Very little loss of life, minimal number of people imprisoned. No country on earth can lay claim to facing so much and yet subduing it with so little loss of overall freedom in the society.
I come back, wildly enthusiastic about doing further Canadian missions. No one else in our group has the faintest interest, so that puts me in a monopoly position.
Despite a quasi-wartime situation, my cover story stood up with ridiculous ease. I was simply one more textile worker in Montreal. In fact, things were so seamless I took it for granted.
As I listen to common room stories, I soon understand I had an almost magic carpet of a free ride. Everyone else got into some jam or other. Some even had to trigger themselves back prematurely, abort the mission, to save their lives.
Prof spent 2 days debriefing me, came to a different conclusion. Yes there was lotsa scope for trouble, but I stayed outa it. I see the admiration in her eyes as she sums up, "you stood at a very edge of history. Actually followed orders, which makes you a rarity around here. Orders were to observe, not participate, which could alter history. I am proud of you."
Homa got a royal telling off. Killed a Soviet soldier at a checkpoint. Come on, you're only supposed to trank. She got 14 days KP (Kitchen Police) for that.

Of my technical training 99% is secret. I am only allowed to give out 3 facts, all of which are public knowledge, freely available to any journalist or schoolchild.
First, we can only travel in what is the past to us, not the future. To the circa 2000 reader, a lot of what we do seems in the future of course.
Second, we cannot project through time and space. If we wished to travel from our base in Ireland to India of a century ago, we'd need a vehicle to carry us to the exact Drop Zone in India. At that point, we would use the time machine.
Third, there is a TDF (Time Distortion Factor) on every jump. This varies from 10 to 15. For example, being away from base 2 days gets you 20 to 30 days on site. This is the crux of everything, the trickiest part of the navigation. If the drop crew screws up your TDF, you vanish into thin air, never heard from again, stranded in time. Being out 1/100 of 1% is a sentence of exile. So, if they hate you, guess what, you ain't coming back. They'll cook the reading to show they weren't at fault, you were. So, always be nice to them, buy some candy for them from the tuck shop.

As far as cops jumping, government policy is to go after murderers only. They don't want to risk human lives on more mundane crimes.
The cops have greater odds of hitting literary paydirt. Go loiter in a bookstore for an hour, you'll soon see what I mean. For every one historical fiction sold, there's gotta be 20 mysteries.
If you could write a good convincing thriller of how the World Wide Nuclear War started, you might score big. Other than that, our royalties our most likely cigarette and ice cream money.