'Allo. Back for another round, seems like. Be most honored, if you came along. Edited!

Portal

1

Kyoto, Japan, at the crowded and busy Yamato Space Port, midafternoon-

Tycho Reeves was a man with something to prove. Thin, intense and deeply driven. The hyper-train disaster had damaged his unbroken string of engineering successes and involved him in several quite lengthy legal battles. Problematic, if he was to score the funding he required to realize his goal of clean, cheap, instantaneous transport for anyone, anywhere.

That high-speed, vacuum-tube hyper train had been just the beginning. A foretaste of bigger and better to come. Unfortunately, it had also gone quite publicly wrong, necessitating the involvement of his self-proclaimed 'Biggest Fan', Doctor Hiram Hackenbacker. (Doctor of what? From which institution, precisely? D*mned if Reeves could figure it out. There was clearly a secret of some sort, behind all that.)

Now, he was here in Kyoto's elegant spaceport, at the newly-installed and faintly humming transmission disk. There were reporters, imperial banners and security drones everywhere, together with his two 'goodwill ambassadors', Buddy and Ellie Pendergast. Needing something fresh and exciting, themselves, the married explorers had jumped at the chance to be his first public test subjects.

"Mr. Reeves," said lovely Mariko Aino, Japan's most famous speaker of news, "For our honored viewers, please, how does your transmitter function?"

Tycho forced himself to keep smiling, despite the fact that he'd explained the concept literally hundreds of times before. Bespectacled, with gelled dark hair and brown eyes, he was quite young for so gifted a thinker.

"Of course," he replied, over the crackle and hum of darting video drones, the muted rumble of spaceships, and the tinny clatter of "public meeting-space" music. "The basic idea is really quite simple. Since the entire universe began as a tiny, Planck-sized particle, and expanded from there, it's essentially all entangled."

"Which could be said to mean…?" the raven-haired reporter probed, smiling and bowing as if she had any clue what he was talking about. Tycho forced himself to be patient, to slow down and explain.

"Meaning that every region in the 4D field equations of spacetime is still connected to every other. With enough energy, the right maths, and a bit of renormalization, I can have you step on this disk, here…" He half-turned to indicate his prototype transmitter, adding, "…press a few buttons, and watch you materialise there, at the other disk, down in Pacifica City."

The reporter's dark-almond eyes widened, for dramatic effect. Like Tycho, himself, and all of the crowd, she was formally dressed.

"Instantly?" she wondered, one hand touching her mouth

Fighting the urge to roll his brown eyes, Tycho kept smiling.

"Exactly, Miss Aino. As I said, this," he waved his hand through the air at polite, smiling people, sparking drones and robot-porter traffic, "…is all just your brain's interpretation of multi-dimensional field equations. Every location in spacetime can be represented by a constantly shifting number matrix. All I do is manipulate those figures to change your 'address'. Simple."

Mariko smiled bravely, still nodding and bowing, occasionally.

"My apologies... And your system has been tested, Mr. Reeves?"

"Of course," Tycho grumped, remembering. "I've already sent several inanimate objects, my cat, and an android replica of myself, to the receiver in Pacifica City. All arrived safely… although the cat threw up."

"And now, it's gonna be us, right, Luv?" Buddy cut in, grinning broadly as he bounced around the big, domed room on his blade-foot and meat-leg; knit red cap bobbing like a toy.

"Yeah!" Ellie exulted. "The elusive Meg awaits!" She wasn't as tall as her boisterous husband, but several times as energetic, with blonde hair and a loud, hooting voice. "And then, it's on to Jupiter, by instant bloomin' transmission!"

"Right-O, light of me life!" crowed Buddy, high-fiving his wife. Tycho sighed deeply, then managed to smile again.

"Yes, indeed. So, if we can get on with the demonstration of a transport system which… I humbly admit… is surely going to change the world, let's have Mr. and Mrs. Pendergast…"

"That's Buddy, t' you, Tyker!" boomed the explorer, draping an affectionate arm over Reeve's thin shoulders. "I'm only "Mr. Pendergast" in court, or with me bill collectors, eh?"

Tycho's smile froze. His expression, caught on camera, quite clearly pled 'Help…me.' But Ellie just kissed his hollow-eyed, sleep-deprived face.

"Let's do it!" she urged, throwing an arm around Tycho and her husband, both. "No one gets famous sittin' at home, right?"

Wasn't that quick or so simple, though. First, the local dignitaries had to say a few words, then the spaceport safety team went over his equipment with microscopes and evidence bags… as if they knew what they were looking at. Next, Kyoto's geothermal energy system had to re-route power to Tycho's device, giving claws and teeth to his numbers.

Finally, with cameras rolling, and audience quietly applauding in the background, they got started. Buddy and Ellie held hands, stepped onto that foot-high, glowing neutronium disk, and bowed like a couple of actors.

Tycho was at his control panel, which featured genuine dials, buttons, switches and a mare's nest of wiring, rather than VR hand-waving crap. He'd never much liked what he couldn't see, touch or calculate, so most of his gear was quite physical.

"Ready?" he asked the pair on the disk, once he'd set the parameters for Pacifica City, some five-hundred miles distant, on the stygian sea floor.

"Right as rain, Tyker! Ready f'r th' fastest trip a couple of Aussies 've ever made! Faster 'n me, gettin' quit of th' mother-in-law!" At which Ellie whooped and playfully slapped him.

Tycho silently begged whatever forces might be listening, that the odious pair would not ever spawn. Then, with no flourish at all, he jammed the red button.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Tracy Island, in the ring, at around the same time-

As Brains… formerly Yudisthir Rama-Singh… did not legally exist, arranging a marriage permit was child's play. With John's help, and Eos', he'd reset his status as "only child", "no surviving relatives" and "citizen in good standing". Naturally, he was granted permission to marry, and have a child with his wife, Vanessa Moffat Hackenbacker.

It had been three months since their wedding… two-and-a-half since they'd returned from their Indian honeymoon… and Moffy was pregnant. This mattered to Brains a great deal, from whom so much had been violently stripped. Family, identity, academic achievements, all gone. But now, on Tracy Island, he was starting, again; with trusted friends, a vital job, and a lovely wife. Soon enough, a new baby, as well. Little Fermat or Ada, depending on gender.

However, Moffy was experiencing what might be termed "hormonal mood-swings", meaning that Brains spent a great deal of time in the lab, these days. Just then, he was taking a break from work, watching on holovid as his hero, Tycho Reeves, made the first-ever public test of his revolutionary matter-transmission system.

"W- Watch, Max," he whispered, gazing at the great man's image with reverence that bordered on worship. "Dr. Reeves h- has a grasp of, ah… of q- quantum field theory th- that leaves everyone else in the d- dust!"

"Or, bored out of their minds!" sniped Alan, on his way to the training room lift. "Seriously, who can check his math, or be sure he's not just making crap up?"

Hackenbacker took off his glasses and polished their lenses on the sleeve of his shirt, a thing he always did, when deeply stressed or hunting for words.

"S- So might a flea speak of, ah… of a l-lion," Brains admonished Alan, whose turn it was to train the so-called 'New Crew'. "N- No one else can even, ah… even k- keep up!"

Alan shrugged. He was bursting through another wild growth spurt; eating whatever came to hand. An apple with peanut butter, just now.

"If you say so, Dude. Sounds like a whole lot of mumbo-jumbo, to me," he said, crunching loudly.

Brains jammed his glasses back on, and shoved them firmly up the bridge of his nose.

"T- To the uninitiated, all of m- math is, ah… is m- mumbo jumbo, Alan, but you shall v- very soon eat your words, for c- clean, free, instant t- transport is coming to take th- the world by storm!"

Well… he got the 'by storm' part right, anyway.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

In a cloaked vessel, just over the Kyoto Spaceport's high guidance tower-

The press and public were not the only ones interested in the potential of Tycho Reeves' instant transport disks. A pair of young thugs, still on the lam from WorldGov authorities, were watching, as well. At least, Havok was paying attention. Her brother… big, hulking Fuse… was off at the mini-fridge, again; being not much interested in anything on telly, besides sport.

Half of the view-screen had been set to display the live telecast, while the rest showed Kyoto's glittering skyline and all of that ship traffic. Tapping metal-gloved fingers upon the arm of her chair, Havok mused,

"With tech like that in 'and, we'd be able t' reach in an' pinch 'Is Nibs right out of 'is cell."

Fuse mumbled something in reply, mouth full of cricket-club sandwich and fizzy drink. Pretending that he'd agreed with her, the slim, foxy-faced girl went on speaking.

"All we've got t' do is interfere a bit, see… then, they carts Reeves off t' 'is Majesty's guest 'ouse, and evacuates the area. Next, we moves in, quick as you please, an' snatches th' gear. Slam, bam, thank you, Ma'am. Simple."

Fuse ambled over, scratching at his cornrows with a stylus, whilst stuffing more sandwich into his gob.

"Urn-urf huf?" he enquired, affably enough. Not about lasses or footie, this time, most likely, and food he'd already acquired. Therefore,

"We gets paid when we've used th' pinched gear t' rescue ol' 'Oodwink."

Or, worst came to worse, they could always sell it. Criminal gangs the world over would trade their silver-haired grannies for a way past guards, locks and alarm systems.

"Owf?" asked her brother, spraying bits of meat, mustard and bread all over that beeping, humming cockpit. Briefly, Havok fantasized about working alone. But then, who'd look after Paul?

"Don't talk wi' yer mouth full, you bloody great oaf!" snapped Havok, mopping food off her seat and purple armour. "It ain't sanitary!"

"Sorry, Evie," he grinned, swallowing a half-chewed lump big enough to choke a mule. "I said: 'Ow we gonna interfere? Go in shootin' and flingin' bombs, Chaos Crew-style?"

Havok thought it over, then shook her head, no. she had shortish, white-streaked brown hair and hard blue eyes. Looked much older than her nineteen years, she did. But life was tough, and you made the choices you had to; for yourself, and those you'd been left with.

"Best not," she decided. "We wants t' scare 'em all off, not attract more feds. Place is crawlin' with law, already. Last thing we need is the ruddy GDF, or effin' International Rescue. No… quiet's th' word, Fuse."

Smiling that cream-fed, bird-snatching smile of hers, Havok drawled,

"What we need is an earthquake t' shut off their power, Sib… and you're just the lad t' provide one."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Meanwhile, in other news, John Tracy had got himself dragged off by Penny, again, for one of her charity soirees. He did not anticipate a peaceful night.