A Legion Born of Her Flawed Judgement.

Eager to discuss the Korium engine's development, interested in the positron notion, and desiring to speak with someone knowledgeable about difficult physics—someone who would understand his testing chamber victories—Jonathan Aston sent Martin Wilkerson an email. He looked for a companion.

When he got home, Martin Wilkerson got the email, which was the ideal diversion from the confusion of forgotten recollections. Determined to solve the mystery that had long tormented him, he threw himself back into his work with fresh vigor.

Confident that he had missed a crucial detail, he went back to where he had started. He identified the problem—navigation—after going over the design blueprints. He had left it out, concentrating just on testing. Two crucial points required the machine to be guided in order to enter and depart the anti-universe precisely. His first concern was navigation.

In order to make an exact return, the hitch was coming up with a method for the machine to track its position. Martin Wilkerson had to know its destination, though, in order to make that possible—a perplexing dichotomy. He was unable to solve it in a traditional way. Then he came up with his most audacious plan to date: he would lead the spacecraft back by entering the anti-universe.

Martin Wilkerson sent Jonathan Aston an email with his will, which takes effect after two months of death or disappearance. Jonathan Aston was stunned and realized that Martin Wilkerson wasn't kidding. It was serious, but what plan put his disappearance at risk?

The second part of the email explained. It described the positron machine's shortcomings as well as Martin Wilkerson's bold scheme. Desperate to get back to him in time, Jonathan Aston responded. The stakes were too high for Martin Wilkerson to take such a risk. The colony would be doomed if he failed.

Martin Wilkerson checked each system to make sure it was working. After making sure there was enough oxygen in the ship, he turned it on. He was surrounded by the cloud of a positron field. A cluster of positrons, the center of the colony's hopes, was the target of laser beams that concentrated on a single point. Aston's vision would depend on the machine's performance.

Pushing the craft into the anti-universe, he persisted. The machine was propelled into the alternative world by the lasers' analysis of the positrons' composition and piercing of their antimatter surfaces, which transformed stored potential energy into elastic kinetic force.

Once more, Carlton Scythe found himself in danger. His mob contact had received the money from him, but they weren't happy. They had anticipated a spotless work with no signs of stealing.

The contact scoffed and said, "Nice trick at that house." Did you want us all apprehended?

"What are you discussing? I performed well.

"Yeah, 'fine'—that shotgun trick left four people dead, the owner paraplegic, and twelve witnesses. You have job to do if that's okay.

"Even though there was six times as much money in the safe as you said, I managed to get the money out."

"The quantity isn't the problem; you could have managed ten times that." Mentally tallying, the man rummaged through the bags. "Not everything is here."

"I needed to use some to get out."

"You don't do that with our money. Nobody is happy, and you're half a million short. You're on the list unless you make up the difference with your own money.

"The list?"

Yes, the list of individuals I get to murder. For myself.

"All right, I'll collect the funds."

"Well done."

Determined to find out what had happened to Martin Wilkerson and the result of the positron machine, Jonathan Aston took the next subway train to Alpha Shield IV. Korium wanted clarification regarding Martin Wilkerson's will, but the engine was steady enough to pause.

Sitting in his office, President James Wilton gazed out the window. He thought of Canadia's radiation barrier being completed, the survivors around the world who were denied a chance, his decision to lie to them for the benefit of his region, and the many fatalities caused by a false sense of security.

There was alarming news. The sun's increasing intensity—more heat and radiation than expected—was reported by new solar flare satellites. The requirement for the shield came sooner than anticipated. Radiation may strike in weeks if the sun's track persisted, but Maris wouldn't hit for two and a half years. The orbit of Erath had gotten too close, making the flares more urgent.

At the building site, he had attempted to contact Jonathan Aston, but he was not there. Instead, he talked to the interim manager, Lauren Newcomen.

"How long until the radiation shield is finished, Mrs. Newcomen?"

"About a month, sir, according to the schedule."

"A month is insufficient. It needs to be enhanced and completed in two weeks. We need it operational due to a situation.

"Sir, I'll do my best to speed it up."

"No, you have two weeks to finish, or we'll all perish. Farewell.

Uncertain if two weeks was possible, Lauren gazed at the receiver. She tried, but she was unable to exert more pressure on the workforce. She required direction. She gave Jonathan Aston a call.

Sitting in Katherine Branson's living room, Jonathan Aston talked about what Martin Wilkerson had done. She wasn't handling things well. She had tried to rekindle his memory at her previous residence, but it had gotten worse, leaving him psychologically damaged by conflicting memories. She held herself responsible for his leaving.

Jonathan Aston was aware of this. Martin Wilkerson had departed in order to preserve the colony, unravel the mystery of space travel, and change the world. Even after a week, Jonathan Aston remained optimistic. Uncertainty and surprises were what made science grow.

The only person with the number, Lauren, was the one whose cell phone buzzed right before it rang. There was trouble at the site. He replied, expecting a negative response.

"Jonathon, there's an issue." "Please," he thought, "not the shield.

“Lauren, what is it?”

The president gave a call. In two weeks, he needs the shield to be operating.

"Two weeks! What is he thinking? We can't get it done so quickly!

"We must. We have two weeks to find out what happened, or we will all perish.

Jonathan Aston muttered a swear. "Radiation will arrive shortly. Inform the staff that there is an emergency and that it needs to be resolved right away. I hope they can make it work. I will arrive as soon as possible.

I'm grateful, Jonathan. Right now, I'm lost.

"Remain calm. I'll take care of it when I get there.

"When is that going to happen?"

A total of thirty-four hours