Categories > Celebrities > Beatles > Future Imperfect
John and Sir Richard were back in the priest's hole. The guards were still looking for them intensely, and the girls had gone back to their quarters. Pauline had wanted to stay and talk to John, but Georgina had persuaded her to go home instead - they all knew it would be suspicious if they hung around any longer than they normally did. Besides which, regulations dictated that they be off the base by a certain time, and the guards would come looking for them if they weren't.
Brian was asleep on his cot in the back corner of the wardrobe room - he never left the base these days, and hadn't in years. It was far safer for him where he was. He ate his meals in a quiet corner of the base's commissary, and got a little fresh air and sunshine in an equally quiet corner of the base itself, not far from his rooms. The rest of the time, he stayed in the wardrobe room.
"What does Sir Paul want with me?" John whispered to Sir Richard.
"I don't exactly know," Sir Richard whispered back. "Mostly I think he wants to keep track of you."
"But why? I'm a petty crook, and he's got all the resources of the British Secret Service at his command. What could he possibly want of me that he can't get better from somebody else? I can't make sense of it."
Quietly, Sir Richard explained what the project was all about. Then he told him about the Beatles. When he finished, John just sat there, staring at the floor.
Finally, he looked up. "I'd take this better if I knew what he wanted me for."
"We all would," Sir Richard replied. "Sir Paul has been very well trained in the ways of the Civil Service. He has always been inclined to keep his motives to himself, and the Civil Service tends to encourage that. There are times when I think he keeps his motives secret even from himself."
"Great," John grumbled, and lay back on the cot. "I'm stuck working for a manipulative bastard."
"He's not that bad," Sir Richard protested.
"Yeah, but you've known him since you were both kids."
"Actually, we met at Oxford," Sir Richard said.
"The world of the privileged," John sneered. "What would you have turned into if your folks hadn't been well-off, eh? If they'd been too poor, or you'd been too ill, or summat?"
"Then I'd have been a poorly educated drummer in a rock band," Sir Richard replied calmly. "And if that option hadn't arrived, I would have been a dock worker."
John stared at him. "How do you know?"
Sir Richard laughed quietly. "I've seen it. All the footage from the other realities showed me what I might have been."
"What about me?" John asked.
"A world famous rock star. In some realities, you were murdered, and then almost worshipped by legions of fans. In others you survived. In some realities, the Beatles reformed in the 1980s. In others, they didn't. The possibilities are endless."
John sighed, and kept staring at the ceiling. Sir Richard went to the peephole, and looked out. It was night, and the place was silent. In his corner, Brian snored softly, too softly to cover anything but the quietest conversation.
Sir Richard was tired, too. But he didn't want to sleep - wasn't sure that he could. The dangers in this place were extreme, and sleep could cost him his life. And then there was John. What he knew of the man was not particularly flattering. He was a petty thief with a limited success rate, and had spent his adult life in and out of jail for a variety of offences. He had spent his childhood under the thumb of his aunt, Mimi, who had apparently been less interested in raising a happy, healthy child than keeping the house quiet and under her control.
Sir Paul didn't want to trust this man. He evidently thought that Lennon was just as likely to stab him in the back as he was to look at a man. Sir Richard, however, was quickly developing a different opinion. He had spent much of his career working with men like this. In fact, he had spent much of his early career committing the crimes that Lennon only dreamed about - but then, MI5 was like that.
He turned as John came up behind him.
"Get some sleep," John said. "I'll keep watch."
Sir Richard nodded gratefully, and went to the cot. In seconds, he was asleep. When he awoke several hours later, John was still standing by the door, staring out into the darkness. He regarded the man thoughtfully. Perhaps there was a place for him on the Project, after all. He still wasn't sure what exactly it was - perhaps if they managed to tame the portal, he could lead a team into the other realities to see what was going on. Sir Richard had read his record and didn't doubt that the man was talented - but if he couldn't find a way of channelling John's talents, then those talents would be wasted.
Their only problem now lay in getting back to their own reality. "John," he said quietly. John looked around. He looked tired and drawn. "Where were you when you came through the portal?"
"I was sitting in a prison cell, waiting for Sir Paul to return. Then, I was in a corridor outside the mess hall."
Sir Richard nodded thoughtfully. "You must have materialised behind me."
"Maybe that's where we have to be to get back!" John said.
Sir Richard nodded again. "That's what I believe."
"So," John said, "Shall we go and have a look?"
"What time is it?"
"About two in the morning," John replied. "I snuck out and had a look at Brian's watch."
Sir Richard stood up and went out into the costume room. John followed him out, and was about to go out into the base when he realised that Sir Richard wasn't right behind him. He looked around, and saw him rummaging through the racks of costumes.
"What are you doing?" John hissed.
In answer, Sir Richard handed him a pair of overalls. He himself pulled a greatcoat, which bore insignia and a swastika, over his suit. Then he put a peaked cap on, and lead the way out into the base.
They had to stop and adjust to the brightness of the lights in the corridor after the gloom in the wardrobe room and priest hole. But when they had, they moved on. Sir Richard remembered scores of youthful adventures and pranks, most of which hinged on looking as though he belonged there. Remember to be confident, he thought fiercely. Look like you are supposed to be walking along this corridor.
They turned a corner, and saw the back of an on-duty guard. John hesitated. "This is not the time for a quick lesson in sneaking," Sir Richard hissed in his ear. "Walk like you belong here!"
John straightened his shoulders, and marched past the guard. Sir Richard strode along after him, boot-heels clicking on the floor. The guard turned around, but saw the uniform coat and relaxed. "The fault is just down that corridor, sir," he said.
Sir Richard nodded brusquely. "Thankyou," he said. "Carry on, soldier."
He and the guard saluted each other, and they continued down the corridor that the guard had indicated to them. Soon, they turned a corner, and spotted the fault that the guard had mentioned. It was a flickering fluorescent tube, and both Sir Richard and John could see the solution.
Not that either of them had any intention of fixing the problem before them, because they were standing right where they wanted to be standing - outside the mess hall.
Brian was asleep on his cot in the back corner of the wardrobe room - he never left the base these days, and hadn't in years. It was far safer for him where he was. He ate his meals in a quiet corner of the base's commissary, and got a little fresh air and sunshine in an equally quiet corner of the base itself, not far from his rooms. The rest of the time, he stayed in the wardrobe room.
"What does Sir Paul want with me?" John whispered to Sir Richard.
"I don't exactly know," Sir Richard whispered back. "Mostly I think he wants to keep track of you."
"But why? I'm a petty crook, and he's got all the resources of the British Secret Service at his command. What could he possibly want of me that he can't get better from somebody else? I can't make sense of it."
Quietly, Sir Richard explained what the project was all about. Then he told him about the Beatles. When he finished, John just sat there, staring at the floor.
Finally, he looked up. "I'd take this better if I knew what he wanted me for."
"We all would," Sir Richard replied. "Sir Paul has been very well trained in the ways of the Civil Service. He has always been inclined to keep his motives to himself, and the Civil Service tends to encourage that. There are times when I think he keeps his motives secret even from himself."
"Great," John grumbled, and lay back on the cot. "I'm stuck working for a manipulative bastard."
"He's not that bad," Sir Richard protested.
"Yeah, but you've known him since you were both kids."
"Actually, we met at Oxford," Sir Richard said.
"The world of the privileged," John sneered. "What would you have turned into if your folks hadn't been well-off, eh? If they'd been too poor, or you'd been too ill, or summat?"
"Then I'd have been a poorly educated drummer in a rock band," Sir Richard replied calmly. "And if that option hadn't arrived, I would have been a dock worker."
John stared at him. "How do you know?"
Sir Richard laughed quietly. "I've seen it. All the footage from the other realities showed me what I might have been."
"What about me?" John asked.
"A world famous rock star. In some realities, you were murdered, and then almost worshipped by legions of fans. In others you survived. In some realities, the Beatles reformed in the 1980s. In others, they didn't. The possibilities are endless."
John sighed, and kept staring at the ceiling. Sir Richard went to the peephole, and looked out. It was night, and the place was silent. In his corner, Brian snored softly, too softly to cover anything but the quietest conversation.
Sir Richard was tired, too. But he didn't want to sleep - wasn't sure that he could. The dangers in this place were extreme, and sleep could cost him his life. And then there was John. What he knew of the man was not particularly flattering. He was a petty thief with a limited success rate, and had spent his adult life in and out of jail for a variety of offences. He had spent his childhood under the thumb of his aunt, Mimi, who had apparently been less interested in raising a happy, healthy child than keeping the house quiet and under her control.
Sir Paul didn't want to trust this man. He evidently thought that Lennon was just as likely to stab him in the back as he was to look at a man. Sir Richard, however, was quickly developing a different opinion. He had spent much of his career working with men like this. In fact, he had spent much of his early career committing the crimes that Lennon only dreamed about - but then, MI5 was like that.
He turned as John came up behind him.
"Get some sleep," John said. "I'll keep watch."
Sir Richard nodded gratefully, and went to the cot. In seconds, he was asleep. When he awoke several hours later, John was still standing by the door, staring out into the darkness. He regarded the man thoughtfully. Perhaps there was a place for him on the Project, after all. He still wasn't sure what exactly it was - perhaps if they managed to tame the portal, he could lead a team into the other realities to see what was going on. Sir Richard had read his record and didn't doubt that the man was talented - but if he couldn't find a way of channelling John's talents, then those talents would be wasted.
Their only problem now lay in getting back to their own reality. "John," he said quietly. John looked around. He looked tired and drawn. "Where were you when you came through the portal?"
"I was sitting in a prison cell, waiting for Sir Paul to return. Then, I was in a corridor outside the mess hall."
Sir Richard nodded thoughtfully. "You must have materialised behind me."
"Maybe that's where we have to be to get back!" John said.
Sir Richard nodded again. "That's what I believe."
"So," John said, "Shall we go and have a look?"
"What time is it?"
"About two in the morning," John replied. "I snuck out and had a look at Brian's watch."
Sir Richard stood up and went out into the costume room. John followed him out, and was about to go out into the base when he realised that Sir Richard wasn't right behind him. He looked around, and saw him rummaging through the racks of costumes.
"What are you doing?" John hissed.
In answer, Sir Richard handed him a pair of overalls. He himself pulled a greatcoat, which bore insignia and a swastika, over his suit. Then he put a peaked cap on, and lead the way out into the base.
They had to stop and adjust to the brightness of the lights in the corridor after the gloom in the wardrobe room and priest hole. But when they had, they moved on. Sir Richard remembered scores of youthful adventures and pranks, most of which hinged on looking as though he belonged there. Remember to be confident, he thought fiercely. Look like you are supposed to be walking along this corridor.
They turned a corner, and saw the back of an on-duty guard. John hesitated. "This is not the time for a quick lesson in sneaking," Sir Richard hissed in his ear. "Walk like you belong here!"
John straightened his shoulders, and marched past the guard. Sir Richard strode along after him, boot-heels clicking on the floor. The guard turned around, but saw the uniform coat and relaxed. "The fault is just down that corridor, sir," he said.
Sir Richard nodded brusquely. "Thankyou," he said. "Carry on, soldier."
He and the guard saluted each other, and they continued down the corridor that the guard had indicated to them. Soon, they turned a corner, and spotted the fault that the guard had mentioned. It was a flickering fluorescent tube, and both Sir Richard and John could see the solution.
Not that either of them had any intention of fixing the problem before them, because they were standing right where they wanted to be standing - outside the mess hall.
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