Stolen Timeline

"It's not technically kidnapping if they walk through willingly. It's just... aggressively optimistic relocation."

Grant and Sarah materialised beside me, their backpacks still slung over their shoulders, their faces alight with the particular wonder of people experiencing something impossible for the first time. They were already spinning in slow circles, drinking in the unfamiliar landscape.

"It's exactly how they described it," Grant breathed, his voice hushed with awe.

The view that stretched before us was striking not for its strangeness but for its emptiness. After the lush greenery of Tasmania—the eucalyptus forests, the fern-filled gullies, the constant presence of wildlife—this vast expanse of nothing must have seemed almost incomprehensible. Dusty ochre plains extended to the horizon in every direction, broken only by the rolling dusty hills. No trees. No birdsong. Just endless, barren space.

"The scale of it," Sarah murmured, turning a slow circle with her arms slightly outstretched, as if trying to absorb the emptiness through her skin. "Melanie said it was remote, but I didn't imagine..."

She trailed off, words apparently failing her. Grant had moved to stand beside her, one hand resting on her shoulder in a gesture of shared amazement. They looked like explorers who'd stumbled into an untouched wilderness—full of possibility, entirely unprepared for what that possibility would cost them.

They think they're going home in two weeks.

The thought twisted in my gut.

I needed to find Paul. Needed to explain this mess before the Ironbachs started asking questions I couldn't answer, before my unplanned stolen identity collapsed under the weight of its own contradictions. My eyes scanned the Drop Zone, searching for my brother's familiar figure.

It took a moment, but Paul's gaze eventually found mine. His expression shifted from casual recognition to confusion as he registered the two strangers standing beside me. Even from this distance, I could see his eyebrows climbing toward his hairline.

Just go with it, I willed silently. Please, for once in your life, just go with it.

"This is almost exactly how they described it," Grant said again, still surveying the landscape. His eyes swept across the barren plains, the distant shimmer of heat haze, the utter absence of anything green or growing. "Though I expected there to be more... something. Anything, really."

"Oh, really?" I managed, latching onto the opportunity to gather information. Whatever Melanie Bandy had told them, whatever expectations she'd set, I needed to understand the shape of the lie before I could maintain it.

"Yes." Sarah turned to face me, and her gaze carried an intensity that made me want to step backward. "Melanie mentioned the landscape was challenging. But this is..." she gestured vaguely at the emptiness surrounding us, "quite something."

Paul was approaching now, his expression carefully neutral in that way that meant he was reserving judgment until he had more information. Smart man. I'd need every ounce of his diplomatic instincts in the next few minutes.

"Paul!" I called out, injecting warmth into my voice. "Perfect timing. I'd like you to meet Grant and Sarah Ironbach—they're the Director and Assistant Director of the Bonorong Wildlife Sanctuary in Tasmania."

Paul's handshake with each of them was perfectly cordial, but his eyes kept sliding toward me with questions I could practically hear. Who are these people? Why are they here? What have you done now?

"As discussed," I continued, meeting Paul's gaze with what I hoped was a clear message to play along, "they're here to conduct the initial assessment for the construction of the new wildlife sanctuary."

The silence that followed lasted perhaps two seconds. It felt considerably longer.

"Oh, are they?" Paul's voice was admirably steady, though his eyebrows had achieved new heights. "The wildlife sanctuary. Of course. The one we discussed."

"Shouldn't take us more than a week or so," Sarah added, apparently oblivious to the undercurrents passing between Paul and me. "Two at most. We want to be thorough, but Grant and I both have responsibilities back at Bonorong that we can't neglect for too long."

"And then we'll go back," Grant confirmed. "These things don't manage themselves."

Back.

The word hung in the air, innocent and devastating. They genuinely believed it. Believed they'd spend a fortnight assessing land, make their recommendations, and step back through a portal to resume their normal lives. The lives they'd already left forever.

Paul's expression flickered—just for an instant—with something that might have been horror.

"Do you mind giving my brother and me a moment?" I asked, keeping my voice light. "Just need to brief him on a few logistical details."

"Of course." Sarah's smile was warm, trusting. "Take your time. Grant and I can entertain ourselves—there's plenty to look at."

I grabbed Paul's arm and steered him several metres away, putting enough distance between us and the Ironbachs that our conversation wouldn't carry.

The moment we were out of earshot, Paul rounded on me.

"Luke, what the hell are you doing?"

"I'm Brad," I said, the words sounding ridiculous even to my own ears.

"You're—" Paul stopped, closed his eyes, and took a visible breath. When he opened them again, his expression had shifted from confusion to weary resignation. "And what trouble is 'Brad' in this time that I need to bail him out of?"

"It's not like that."

"Another accident, then?"

"Not exactly."

"Then what, exactly, is going on?" Paul's voice dropped to a fierce whisper. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you've brought two civilians through the portal under false pretences, and they seem to think they're going home in a couple of weeks. Which, as you know, is not how any of this works."

"They already knew about Clivilius," I said quickly. "About portals. They've seen one activated before—multiple times, apparently."

Paul's scepticism was palpable. "Then why do they think they're going home?"

"I don't know." The admission came out sharper than I intended. "But they've been working with another Guardian. Someone named Melanie Bandy. And apparently, Brad—the real Brad—is also a Guardian."

"The real Brad?" Paul pinched the bridge of his nose. "So there's an actual Brad somewhere, and you're... what? Impersonating him?"

"It was a case of mistaken identity. I was at the sanctuary on reconnaissance—"

"Reconnaissance for what?"

"Information about how they run the place. I've been thinking about building something similar here, eventually, and—" I waved a hand, dismissing the tangent. "That's not the point. The point is, Sarah thought I was Brad the moment she saw me. They were expecting him. There were documents, plans, a whole partnership already in development. And before I could correct the mistake, they were talking about portal technology like it was completely normal, and then I showed them the portal, and they walked through, and..."

"And now they're here." Paul's voice was flat. "Permanently. Thinking they're on a two-week trip."

"Yes."

"And the real Brad?"

"Arrived at the sanctuary about thirty seconds before I stepped through."

Paul stared at me for a long moment. I could practically see him cycling through responses—anger, disbelief, a brief flash of what might have been dark humour—before settling on exhausted acceptance.

"Who's Melanie Bandy?"

"I have no idea. But she's apparently a Guardian, and she's been cultivating this partnership for some time. Sarah mentioned her by name. Said Melanie was the one who first showed them the portals."

"Another Guardian team." Paul's frown deepened. "Operating independently. Recruiting specialists for Clivilius."

"That's what it sounds like."

"And you just... stumbled into the middle of their operation. Accidentally stole their recruits."

When he put it that way, it did sound rather spectacular.

"I prefer to think of it as seizing an unexpected opportunity." I held up the folders I'd grabbed from the sanctuary—the portfolios full of plans and projections and careful documentation. "We have their designs for a wildlife sanctuary in Clivilius. And we have the Director and Assistant Director of Tasmania’s premier wildlife facility. Whatever Melanie Bandy was planning, we just... stolen her timeline."

Paul looked at the folders, then back at me, then over his shoulder at Grant and Sarah, who were crouched near the ground examining the ochre dust, scooping handfuls and letting it run through their fingers like professionals assessing what they had to work with.

"They seem nice," he said finally.

"They are nice. They're passionate, knowledgeable, exactly the kind of people we need here."

"And they have no idea they can never go home."

The guilt I'd been suppressing surged upward. "No. They don't."

Paul was quiet for a moment, processing. Then he sighed—a sound I'd heard countless times throughout our lives, usually preceding his reluctant agreement to go along with whatever scheme I'd dragged him into.

"This is going to be a disaster."

"Probably."

"We're going to have to tell them eventually."

"I know."

"And when we do, they're going to hate us."

I thought of James's parting words. Grant and Sarah are good people. They deserve better than being caught up in something they don't understand.

"Maybe," I said. "But right now, what they need is someone to help them settle in. Show them around. Make them feel welcome before the reality sets in."

Paul's expression suggested he knew exactly what I was doing—pawning off the difficult emotional labour while I escaped to handle other matters. But he didn't argue.

"Fine. I'll play tour guide." He straightened his shoulders, composing himself. "But you owe me an explanation. A real one. Tonight."

"Tonight," I agreed.

"And I want to know what you were actually doing at Bonorong in the first place." Paul's eyes narrowed. "Because I'm pretty sure 'reconnaissance' doesn't usually end with kidnapping a sanctuary's entire leadership."

"It wasn't kidnapping. They walked through willingly."

"Under false pretences."

"Under someone else's false pretences. I just... inherited them."

Paul stared at me for a long moment, then shook his head. "Tonight, Luke. All of it."

"All of it," I agreed, though we both knew I'd find ways to omit the parts I didn't want to discuss.

We walked back to where the Ironbachs waited, their attention fixed on the horizon as they discussed something between themselves—probably already mentally mapping the terrain, assessing possibilities, doing the professional calculations that had made them valuable enough to recruit in the first place.

"Is everything alright, Brad?" Sarah asked as we approached.

The name still felt wrong in my ears, but I'd committed to this performance. At least for now.

"Everything's perfect," I said, summoning a smile that felt almost genuine. "My brother is going to accompany you back to camp and give you a proper orientation. Get you settled in, show you around, answer any questions you might have."

I handed the folders to Paul, who accepted them with only a slight tightening around his eyes.

"And you?" Paul asked. His expression carried a warning—don't you dare leave me alone with this mess for long.

"I have other duties to attend to," I said, keeping my voice casual. "Guardian business. But I'll catch up with you all this evening, and we can discuss the sanctuary plans in detail."

"Guardian duties." Paul's tone was carefully neutral, but I caught the edge beneath it. "Of course."

Sarah and Grant exchanged a glance—the wordless communication of siblings who had spent a lifetime reading each other's cues. Whatever conclusion they reached, they seemed satisfied.

"We're in good hands, then," Grant said, adjusting the straps of his backpack. "Lead the way, Paul. I'm eager to see what you've built here."

What we've built. The words carried a weight Grant couldn't possibly understand. This settlement, such as it was, had been built on lies and manipulation and the shattered lives of everyone who'd been brought here without their consent. And now two more names had been added to that list.

But Grant was smiling, genuinely excited, and Sarah was already peppering Paul with questions about the local ecology, and for one brief moment, watching them walk toward the camp together, I could almost believe that something good might come of this.

Almost.

Paul glanced back over his shoulder once, catching my eye. The look he gave me was complicated—frustration and resignation and something that might have been grudging admiration for the audacity of what I'd pulled off.

Then he turned back to his charges, his voice carrying across the dust as he launched into what sounded like a well-rehearsed welcome speech.

"We're extremely excited to have you here. The settlement is still developing, but I think you'll find..."

His words faded as they moved further away.

I stood there for a moment, watching them go. Watching the Ironbachs take their first steps into a world they didn't understand, guided by my brother toward a future they hadn't chosen.

Brad Coleman.

The name lingered in my mind like an itch I couldn't scratch. Somewhere back on Earth, the real Brad Coleman was standing in that cluttered staff room at Bonorong, probably staring at James Fletcher and demanding to know what the hell had happened to his carefully cultivated partnership.

And somewhere else—Melanie Bandy was operating. Another Guardian, running another operation, recruiting specialists for purposes I could only guess at.