Brad shakes his head and mutters to himself as he examines your left arm more closely than before, poking and prodding with expert, but still painful, precision. You try not to squirm under his calm, no-nonsense touch, but you can't help but flinch a couple times. You hope he doesn't notice, though the way his eyes flick to watch your expression confirms he does.

At this point however, only the less charred-to-a-crisp parts of your arm cry out in muted agony. The parts that are still clinging to life. The rest, well… you're no medic, but you can tell most of your limb is dead tissue, past the point of recovery.

So, it doesn't surprise you when Brad stops his examination and says:

“Well, we definitely have to amputate. You cool with that?” He looks up and meets your unblinking gaze. You hope your expression conveys the correct amount of determination, the unquestionable kind. What you both already know has to happen. But, you are still glad he checked with you. That's what a good, properly certified physician would do.

You nod. “Okay, as long as I can get a replacement prosthetic. You… you can do that, right?”

Brad had mentioned he had devoured a second golden fruit, enabling him to write things into existence. After all this time being exposed to the Library's wonders and mysteries, it is no longer surprising. You just hope he can create the appropriate prosthetic for your needs.

“No problem, all I need to do is write it down…” He begins to reach into his coat pocket.

“Wait!” You interrupts as Brad changes direction to grab some loose paper scattered nearby. You pivot on the rotting wood table Brad had you jump up on and grab something out of your jumpsuit pocket. “I drafted a design for a bionic prosthetic arm. You can use your Skill to replicate this.”

Brad takes your proffered schematic without comment or complaint. You had half-expected some resistance, that he had already got it into his head that he would design and craft the new limb from start to finish.

He runs his eyes over the detailed schematic of a replacement arm as you begin to describe the mechanics behind it. Brad takes out a ballpoint pen and begins to trace the design. You are pleased to see him transcribe your spoken notes in the margins.

Little motes of light float up, and as Brad finishes, he reaches into the paper and begins pulling out a collapsed version of the arm of your dreams.

It reveals itself as a perfect replica of the prosthetic you designed and described. And which Brad has just made reality.

Good Minerva…

Brad shows it to you with a very Brad-like flourish. “Up to snuff?”

You blink and try not to look too impressed. You need to save that for when the prosthetic actually attaches to your nervous system properly.

“Ah, yes, it's… even better than I could have imagined.”

“Good,” Brad grunts and sets it down on a pile of bedraggled books. “Now… time for the amputation and the attachment of the prosthetic.”

You swallow the growing lump of pre-operation anxiety in your throat and begin to arrange yourself in a reclining position on the rickety table.

Brad reaches into his 21st century medical kit and begins prepping a syringe full of anesthetic. As he taps the glass, banishing the stray bubbles inside, you suddenly speak up.

“Don't knock me out.”

“You're crazy. This is going to hurt like hell.”

“I know… and some pain killers would be nice, but… I need to be awake. For… for it to mean anything.”

You stare back at Brad, his expression a mix of clear bewilderment and exasperation. But you refuse to back down. You had not planned to stay conscious during the operation, yet it suddenly occurred to you that this was the best way for the loss of your original arm to the fight with the Original Book to be remembered. To be engraved into your memory as well as your physical body.

Brad scratches his head, his expression turning into one of resignation. Then he sighs. “Fine, but if you end up regretting it…” He trails off. You know a warning when you hear one.

You give Brad a small, grateful smile in return.

“Then it's my problem, not yours. Thanks Brad.”

Nodding, Brad gets to work. The medic directs you to strip down as much as possible so not just your burnt arm, but the other burned areas of your neck and torso, are visible for treatment. He also tosses you a very musty, dubious-looking blanket to use to cover yourself. Then, after confirming it is okay with you, Brad uses a piece of rope to fix you to the table more securely in case you move around during the operation. He explains it is a more serious risk since you are not being knocked unconscious.

Lastly, before the operation truly begins, Brad locks eyes with you and plunges the syringe into the artery in your right forearm.

The injection does not hurt, and you feel your eyelids begin to droop as the anesthetic spreads through your veins. But, as promised, you are still aware of what is happening. You vaguely register as the masked and gloved up Brad raises a strange sword-scalpel combo.

Then, your body numb to the world, Brad makes the first incision.

Three hours later the ruined parts of your arm have been entirely removed. Six hours later the bionic prosthetic has been attached and matched to the remaining organic parts of your left arm.

And after at least eight hours, Brad is done rewiring the nerve endings and adding salves and bandages to the rest of your less severe burns. If some of them scar you have already decided that you don't mind. You will wear them as badge of honour, a testament to the barriers you overcame and the sacrifices you made.

All that is left is for your anesthetic to wear off enough for you to move. You can scarcely wait.

Ten hours since, you can do more than twitch your fingers and toes. You begin to peel yourself off the table. Brad swiftly unties the rope and helps you to a sitting position. You wince, the pain from the operation gradually manifesting, and lean against Brad for much-needed support.

“Ugh, that… that was Minerva-awful.”

“I warned you,” Brad responds, sounding more matter-of-fact than annoyed. “How are you feeling now?”

You cough. “Everything hurts, but, otherwise… strangely light.”

“Take a look at your arm,” Brad encourages you, clearly excited to learn what you think. And you're happy to oblige.

You do, and your heart soars, a silly grin filling your face. You eagerly take in a bionic arm with articulated joints, composed of a lightweight, yet sturdy plastic coated in a layer of dark teal metal.

Without anymore coaxing from Brad, you flex your new arm and wiggle your prosthetic fingers. With hardly a thought, they obey your every desire and command, just like your original arm. They move seamlessly, not even emitting a whir of sound.

You continue testing and stretching the prosthetic for a few minutes, hardly able to believe such a thing is possible without the technology from your own timeline.

Brad crosses his arms, grinning broadly while you test the limits of the new limb. “Pretty cool, huh? Now, what's next for you, Sarah?”

You turn to Brad with an equally wide grin. “Very cool. And now… it is time for me to save my world.”

---

Before you leave, Amelia warns you about the potential danger in the power you wield with the Deckkernator 9000. She mentions, albeit rather vaguely, her eyes flicking between you and Tegan, that advanced space travel – the kind that colonises and conquers entire solar systems – always has its' flip sides.

You listen dutifully, then reassure her that it will fine. If you share the Portal technology, it will be with the right people or not at all. Besides, this all assumes that you can save your timeline, your Earth, from certain destruction. First by asteroid impact, secondly by the Simplex.

Amelia sighs, but accepts your answer. With Tegan's permission, you hook the Deckkernator up to the K.K. Home Generator one last time. Tegan and Amelia intend to bring the Generator back to their own time.

As you plug in general figures, Amelia making gentle corrections behind you, you find yourself excited despite yourself.

This is it. This was the true reason you built this Portal device.

Aiming for… about a year before the asteroid cluster makes impact should be enough, right? Even before the global, ecological disaster the initial impact ignited, you were a well-respected figure in the Second Atlantic Empire. You know several influential government folks who would lend their ears to your concerns.

So you give Tegan and Amelia one final hug and face the Portal. With a jaunty salute, you jump through, R.E.X. right at your side.

February 2431, The New Imperial Logbook So-Called 'Commander' Sarah P. Deckker Demands Audience with Emperor Ceasar Napoleon V

April 2431, The New Imperial Logbook: Spring Edition Mysterious Commander Claims to be From Future where All of Humanity is Conquered by Mind-Altering Aliens

Rumours Suggest that the Commander is the MIA Valedictorian of the Imperial Space Academy, Presumed Dead Since Failed Training Mission Five Years Ago

May 2431, The New Imperial Logbook Ceasar Napoleon V Dispatches Space Mission to Investigate Megalith 32 Asteroid Cluster

Crazy Commander insists on funding for 'Portal' technology, believes Apocalypse is Nigh

July 2431, The New Imperial Logbook Mission Failed, Emperor Ceasar Forced to Step Down

Second Atlantic Empire Dissolution Announced, What Will Provinces Do Next?

September 2431, Republic Times Asteroid Cluster Spotted Hurtling Towards Earth, Commander's Claim Proven Correct

September 2431, Republic Times Provinces in Conflict About How to Disperse Megalith 32

October 2431, Republic Times Commander Sarah Cooperates with Republic Space Agency

December 2431, Republic Times Wealthy 1% Interviewed, Confirmed They Will Move to Moon and Mars Colonies Until Threat Neutralised

Global Protests Wreak Havoc on Stock Market, Cost of Root Vegetables Increases to Astonishing New High!

January 2432, Republic Times Megalith 32 Still on Path of Impact, New Space Agency-Led Mission to Change Its Course

Commander Deckker Volunteers Genetic Sequence Information In Event of 'Alien Onboarding'

February 2432, Republic Times Incoming Asteroid Cluster Redirected to Outer Solar System! Mars Colony Hit by Excess Debris!

Mars Colony Invaded by Aliens, No One Permitted to Come or Go, Deckker Sequencing to be Dropped Via Outer Atmosphere Grenades

Sarah stands in front of a granite headstone in the new Scottish State of the International Republic. It is the largest and newest in a family plot going back six generations. Only thin layers of moss coat the imagery of thistles and arching wings.

SARAH P. DECKKER

Beloved Daughter & Sister

Light of Her Homeland, New Commander of Antares 9

Taken From Us Too Soon

Fois shìorraidh gun robh aig a h-anam¹⁾

The Sarah who the headstone belongs to is gone, missing, dead. The original Sarah of this timeline.

YOU took her place, filled the gaping vacuum left by her absence. YOU saved Earth.

“Sarah?”

You turn your head to meet the concerned gaze of your twin brother, Adam. Her Adam, not yours, you think, but then banish the thought.

That Sarah was gone. Adam, Mum, and Da knew that. It hadn't taken them long to piece together that you were not the same Sarah that they had searched for and then eventually set to rest in an empty grave.

The Sarah of this timeline had joined the Imperial Space Academy at a later age, trying stem cell research before learning how to fly and manage a spaceship.

She had only just attained the rank of Commander of Antares 9 when the spaceship was lost on its maiden mission to Venus to scout out prospects for a new colony.

“Hi, Adam, I just… wanted to pay my respects.”

He nods and bends down to add a bushel of bluebells in front of the headstone. He is quiet for a moment before he stands up. “It's alright. We're alright. Thanks to you… we're a family again.”

“But I… I don't belong here–” You start, beginning to choke on the sobs you've been holding back through this whole asteroid debacle and through the realisation that you had portalled to an alternate timeline facing the same disaster as your original one.

Adam wraps an arm around your shoulders and tugs you into a tight side hug.

“You do. Or… you will. Think of this as… a second chance.”

You smile and allow him to lead you down the hill, away from your other self's headstone and towards your family home.

Yes, another chance. A chance to be better. You like the sound of that.

The Deckkernator 9000 is proven to be an effective way to travel through space and time, albeit it requires an enormous amount of power. Equivalent to a particle accelerator containing enough energy to power 30 member states of the Republic.

Scientists of the Republic Space Agency, which re-formed after the dissolution of the Second Atlantic Empire, are engaged in fierce debate on whether it is ethical to redirect resources from states to advance into the future.

BREAKING:

Two pro-Portal 'scientists', who were actually agents from the North American province of Texaho, made off with the original Deckkernator 9000. An eyewitness recovering in a local hospital reported that they created a Portal to a cave filled with frozen stacks of books and disappeared as if by magic.

Space Agency officials confirm this Portal was of scientific possibility once hooked up to the particle accelerator. Not magic.