Save Christ

“Save Christ! Save Jesus! Save our Lord!” the protesters chanted, over and over.

Looking out the window of her office on the 45th floor of the International Time Agency building, ITA for short, Jane sighed and burped. Rubbing her chest and upper abdomen with the heel of her hand to relieve the discomfort of the current bout of reflux, she let out another long, satisfying burp.

“It’s stress,” she decided. Taking a deep breath, and stretching the muscles in her neck and shoulders, Jane continued to watch the protesters at the gates. She couldn’t hear them, but even from such a distance, she could see placards, Save Christ, Jesus Can Save Us, even Jesus Christ for President. Being an empathic being, she felt she could sense the anger and vitriol they spewed out at all who came close enough to be a target. She burped again, and turned away as she heard Denny’s knock at the door.

“Come in, Denny.”

“Morning, Boss.”

Joining Jane near the window, she pointed down at the crowd below. “They’re at it again. The Disciples of Christ.”

“Yes, I’ve been watching them.”

“They seem a tad unrealistic.”

“Yes. I mean, Jesus Christ for President? Really?”

“So, they actually want to bring him here, to this time zone?”

“I guess so.”

“Don’t they know how ITA works?”

Jane laughed, burped, and blushed. “I don’t think they care, D.”

“Are you okay? You look a tad stressed.”

“Yeah, I am. I’m letting the Disciples get to me.”

“Crackpots!”

“Yes, but crackpots with a lot of money behind them.”

“Of course. They’re the cult Ethan Trick founded?”

“Unfortunately.”

“And he wants to bring Jesus here?”

“Well, that’s what his followers are calling for.”

“But why?”

“Who knows? But I have a bad feeling about this.”

Both women turned back to the window and looked down at the protesters.

Denny frowned, “I thought it had been proven that the rise of Christianity depended on his crucifixion?”

“Absolutely, but these guys don’t seem to believe the research.”

“Ahh, fake news?”

“You got it.”

Turning from the window, Jane sighed and pointed to her desk. “Back to work, D. The Disciples can wait.”

Jane was a section manager at ITA. It was her job to co-ordinate the operatives who dealt with illegal time travel. Illegal time travel was any time travel not authorized by ITA.

For those who have forgotten their history, time travel became a thing back in 2005. Coincidentally, the TTD, time travel device, was developed by a great-great-something grandson of HG Wells, who first mooted the idea of time travel.

The technical specs were spread amongst a thankfully small number of geeks, who started buzzing back in time to shake hands with their own grandfathers, gawk at Cleopatra, and watch the gladiatorial games in Rome.

Time started to warp as the time-travelling geeks went through the past with the subtlety, grace, and forethought of the proverbial bull in a china shop.

In America, the precursor of ITA was an offshoot of the FBI. The agents had a rather brutal way of dealing with changes to the timeline. They would find the culprit, establish when in their personal timeline they made the ill-advised leap into the past, then go back before that and eliminate them. This would effectively reset the timeline to the Original Timeline (OT) and the crisis would be averted.

Unavoidably, a number of geeks and heavy-footed time travellers were harmed in the process. Unfortunately, a second unforeseen consequence of the process was that the precipitate elimination of various of the more inventive, but now defunct, time travelling geeks warped time again. Some discoveries that had been made by them were not made in their absence. This had significant implications for progress in various areas. The OT had again been impacted.

It was recognized that a more delicate approach to controlling the movements and innovations of time travelling geeks and other interested parties was necessary. As geeks communicate with one another across the world, and as the consequences of time travel are truly international, it was recognized that a collaborative approach between nations was the way forward. The disastrous consequences to all countries of uncontrolled time travel brought the world together in a way that nothing else in its history did. Thus was ITA born.

Time travel, supported by ITA, is both controlled and safe. It has been a boon to historians who no longer have to make educated guesses about the past. Some have virtually become event coordinators, organising field excursions to view history in the making.

One role of ITA is to ensure that these excursions do not impact the OR, original timeline. There are stringent rules and regulations about historical viewing.

A second role involves apprehending and punishing time criminals, those who illegally access and attempt to change the past. Jane heads this section with the able support of Denny as her deputy. Denny had requested today’s meeting first thing in the morning.

“So, what’s up, D?”

“There was a security glitch in the building last night.”

“What sort of glitch?”

“A power outage. All security went offline for about 5 minutes before the back-up system booted up.”

“Did anyone get in?”

“No. You would have been alerted to that in real time.”

“Any damage?”

“All the systems appear to be checking out okay.”

“What are the ramifications?”

“The security and IT teams are investigating the cause and will report on the implications.”

“Have them report direct to me, please, D.”

“You got it, Boss. So far, it appears to have been a localised failure.”

“Anything to do with the Disciples, do you think?”

“That will be one of the avenues they explore.”

“Ok, D. Keep me posted.”

“Will do.”

“Anything else?”

“Here’s the latest report on timeline infringements, Boss.”

“Summary?”

“Sure. Two backyard jobs this month. Neither got more than a few hours back in their timeline, and we were able to confiscate the devices and memory-wipe them before any damage was done.”

“Trackers in place?”

“Of course, we’re monitoring them. Real schoolboy stuff, though, so I doubt they’ll be an issue.”

“Any other activity?”

“Nothing unusual in the timelines.”

“No news is good news. Keep me up to date on the security issue.”

“Will do, Boss.”

When Denny left, Jane again found herself at the window. She felt uneasy in her bones. Fanatics are always uncomfortable to be around but the Disciples were much more than fanatics. They were a well-funded group and had their own news channel and social media platforms. As far as she could tell, they had their own version of reality. What the rest of the world knew as reality they too often chose to see as fake news.

Their latest outrage was the crucifixion of Christ. They were petitioning ITA to save him from the cross, so that his teachings could be expanded and the world benefit from his holy wisdom. They were either ignorant of, or simply disregarded, the historical research study so famously carried out by Peter Matthews and co in which they clearly demonstrated that if Christ did not die to be reborn, Christianity would not flourish. Christianity became an influential religion after Christ died. It’s simple.

Ethan Trick was, at the same time, closeted with his hacker-in-chief. The hacker was not a member of the disciples. He was a scrawny, scruffy, skinny 21-year-old from New York who looked as though he had never been exposed to sunlight. He was also very well paid for his services although the tax man would have a hard time proving it.

Ethan was trying to be patient with the sniggering hacker. He had been greeted with “Ethan Trick . . . ET . . . hey that’s out there, Man, like really out there, you know? ET. Extra-terrestrial, Man. Sci-fi, Man. Spaceman, Man” followed by sniggering and muttering.

Ethan sighed and waggled all his fingers in what he hoped was an “out there” kind of way.

“Nix,” he continued patiently, “let’s talk about the ITA project for a moment.”

“Sure, ET.” Snigger, snigger.

Counting to ten, slowly, Ethan smiled his million dollar smile, and tried again, “The first phase went well, yeah?”

“Oh sure, ET.” Nix paused as he noticed a warning finger being raised. “Yes, Mr Trick. A complete success.”

“Good. Success is what I’m paying you for.”

“And that is what I guarantee to deliver.”

“Talk me through the rest of the operation from your perspective.”

“Okay, so their IT guys have not found the . . . let’s call it a bypass . . . that I left in their systems. I can piggyback on their system then step in and shut everything down when we need.”

“How much time can you give us?”

“I reckon ten minutes max before they reset. I’d rather shut it down myself though. So maybe eight minutes?”

“Good. That will be enough time for us to get in and grab a few time bracelets.”

“Your boys know the layout?”

“Sure do.”

“And you won’t need access to the building again?”

“Nah, shouldn’t do. Besides, they’ll beef up their security after we hit them.”

“Great. I’ll give you eight minutes. Anyone still inside after that is toast.”

“They’ll be out.”

“I’ll destroy my code when I shut down the program. Don’t want their IT dudes getting hold of it.”

“Good. Eliminate all traces. That’ll keep them guessing . . . and worrying.”

“They won’t know what hit them.”

“Alright. We’re set for tonight.”

“What time does it kick off?”

“I’ll send for you at eleven. Give you time to get set up.”

“And to wake up.” Snigger, snigger.

Ethan sighed, “At 11:45 you do the business. The boys will be ready.”

At 11:45pm, when the security went down, two big men dressed all in black entered ITA, found a stash of time bracelets, liberated three and got out. They were back at Trick headquarters by 1:30am.

The hacker-in-chief was paid handsomely for his trouble. He headed straight to the nearest brothel to celebrate. Thirty minutes later, the two girls in the room with him were startled, but not necessarily displeased, to be interrupted. The door was smashed open by two rather impressively built men wearing balaclavas. They grabbed the skinny, butt-naked hacker, and unceremoniously threw him out the window which, unfortunately for our young man, was some 35 floors above the pavement. Grabbing his clothes, the two men rifled through his possessions, ensured his keys were there, then counted out $5000 in cash for each of the girls. Looking into the glittering brown eyes of the larger man, they huddled together, wide-eyed and silent, nodding quickly as he put a finger to his pursed lips before running the same finger in a slashing movement across his neck.

Ethan was in his operations room, pouring over maps of Jerusalem, when the same two large men were shown in. He looked up, noted their expressions, then nodded slightly and returned to his scrutiny.

Ten minutes later, he straightened up, stretched out his back, and looked at the men. “I still think the simplest plan is to nab him at Golgotha, before they nail him up.”

“Sure, Boss,” replied Trev, the larger and more intelligent of the two.

“We have found a volunteer to go with you.”

“Does he know what he’s volunteering for, Boss?”

“No. He thinks he’s going as your translator.”

The big man just grinned.

Ethan grinned back. “Any questions?”

“No, Boss.”

“Good. We’ll get you to Golgotha by tomorrow afternoon. You time trip the following morning."

"And the plan is still a quick in and out?"

“Absolutely, we don’t want to mess with the timeline any more than absolutely necessary.”

“Yeah, taking Jesus won’t change things much.”

“Don’t be a smart ass, Trev.”

“Sorry, Boss.”

“Now thanks to historical field trips we know the exact date and time for the crucifixion itself. Aim to get there ten minutes before and do whatever you need to get JC free.”

“So, the basic plan is to grab the target and shove the volunteer at them . . . after we relieve him of his time bracelet?”

“That’s the plan. Replace JC with the volunteer. Put his bracelet on JC, hit the buttons, and get out of there.”

“You think they’ll crucify him instead?”

“There has to be a crucifixion. History insists on it.”

“What if the target is already on the cross?”

“Take him down. He’ll still be alive.”

“Tools?”

“I’ve organized for some tools and nails along with time-appropriate clothes, just in case.”

“Then we nail the volunteer up in his place?

“That’s what he’s there for. Knock him out first so he doesn’t attract attention.”

“Makes sense. Looks like you’ve thought of everything, Boss.”

“You’ll need to do everything at super speed, or you’ll have a battle on your hands. In and out.”

“Understood. We retrieve the target and set the time thingy to return to the present.”

“Exactly. We’ll have doctors waiting for you in case they’re needed.”

Big Trev was happy with the plan. Simple plans were always the best. Gave you room to maneuver if needed.

Two days later, three men, dressed in dirty woolen tunics were seen heading up a hill in Jerusalem. They looked like pilgrims. No-one noticed them disappear.

Jane was woken at three o’clock by the alarm she had installed. It only went off if there was an unauthorized time jump. Instantly awake, she was linked with her security chief and her deputy in moments.

“Location?”

“Jerusalem, Jane.” Responded Abe from security.

“Of course, just in time for the crucifixion, I suppose?”

“You got it.”

“It must be the Disciples.” Denny piped up.

“Okay, Abe, get a team there and tidy up.”

“Sure, Jane, I’ll get Tom and Jenny on the case. They’re in the Middle East right now.”

“Excellent. And the stolen bracelets?”

“We’ll deactivate them immediately. Now that we know their location in space and time, it’s easy.”

Trev’s nostrils were assailed by the stench of the place. It smelled like an abattoir set up in a sewerage plant. The noise of wailing in the distant was an irritating buzz, almost obscured by the yells of the crowd and opportunistic salesmen. He was momentarily disoriented. With the advantage of height, he was able to see over the heads of those around him, and he spotted a dark-haired man bent under the weight of the crossbeam he was carrying up the hill.

The disadvantage of his height quickly became apparent as the crowds gathered around him, poking him and trying to talk to him. The volunteer whispered translations to his massive colleague as best he could. “They want to know where you’re from and if you and your brother are gladiators.”

Trev glared at the people buzzing around him. The party surrounding the man with the cross were getting further away and they didn’t have much time. He pushed forward through the tightly packed crowd, focused on his mission, the other two following in his wake. Focused as he was on reaching his target, Trev didn’t notice when two people in the crowd surrounded and isolated the volunteer. His mate, Mick, almost as big, was able to wade through behind him.

The party with the cross had reached their destination. The dark-haired man was being stripped of his clothes. Amongst the crowd surrounding him was a small group of women wailing and beating their chests as the man was forced to drink something. The brutish guards were preparing the cross and it was time, Trev decided. He surged forward, Mick following behind. He grabbed the wide-eyed man who was still gagging slightly from the drink he’d just had forced down his throat and dragged him clear of the melee. Mick distracted the guards, thrusting wildly with a spear he’d ripped out of someone’s hands. He was keeping a group of thickset, albeit short, men armed with short swords at bay. Looking around for the volunteer, Trev swore loudly. “Mick, where’s the Jew?” As Mick glanced around, one of the swords penetrated his side. Swinging with his spear in desperation, he opened himself up to another blow, and then to a sword point through his abdomen. When Mick went down, Trev found himself faced by the small horde of angry men who had finished off his mate. “Shit,” he spat. If he was going to get his target away, he needed one of the other time bracelets.

Realizing the only bracelet in reach was his own, he quickly weighed up his options. Hit the button himself or pop his bracelet on the target. Ever the loyal company man, he clicked his bracelet on the target and pressed the button for home. The shock of the spear through his kidney mirrored the shock of seeing the target grappled by the guards. As Trev sank to his knees, he knew he’d failed his boss for the first time.

Tom and Jenny, the two ITA operatives, stood either side of the Jew, who never knew how close he came to being crucified in Christ’s place. They watched the two thugs die. They saw Jesus nailed to his cross. No loose ends. Job done.