TMA: Agent Moon Ch. 01

Dylan ground his teeth, steering the truck down the road. Sharp eyes caught sight of a dirt road up on the left, and he took it, slamming the brakes and jerking the wheel so that the truck fishtailed onto the dirty driveway. A cloud soon formed behind them as the tires kicked up dirt. The gunfire ceased almost immediately.

Corinna grinned. "Nice move," she said approvingly. "But I reckon he'll compensate. Them Rectifiers—" she frowned, then tapped behind her ear. Abruptly, her voice changed, losing the East Texas inflections. "Some Rectifiers can see in infra-red. Makes them more efficient killing machines."

"What happened to your voice?" Dylan asked.

Corinna sighed. "I'll tell you later," she snapped. "After we get the hell—"

A new barrage of gunfire cut her off. Most of the bullets slammed into the back of the truck bed, but one found it's way through Corinna's seat back. She cursed in pain as the bullet tore through the flesh high up on her left arm. She slapped a hand over the wound, immediately applying pressure.

"You all right?" asked Dylan.

She seethed. "Not the first time I've taken a hit," she muttered, then slid down as more bullets whizzed through the air. Dylan zig-zagged the truck once more, making most of the shots miss. However, an explosion erupted on the tailgate, signaling the last round of the Rectifier's weapon.

"Can you drive?" he asked quickly, turning sharply as the road turned. They were heading back toward the house, he knew.

"What?" asked Corinna as she ripped her shirt, tearing off a long strip of fabric from just below her breasts.

"Drive! Can you drive!"

"Yeah! I can drive the damn truck! Just give me a sec!" Holding one end of the strip in her teeth, she quickly wrapped her wounded arm. The pink fabric quickly became stained with blood, but the flow stopped.

"Then slide over," commanded Dylan, waiting until Corinna's foot replaced his own on the accelerator before pushing himself into the tiny back seat of the cab. Corinna grunted as she slid behind the wheel.

"What are you doing?" she asked Dylan.

"Tackle box," he replied, crouching low in the seat. A fresh burst of gunfire resulted in impacts around the shattered window frame above his head. Corinna guided the truck with skill, keeping down in her seat. The radio in the dash erupted with a shower of sparks.

"I sure hope you have more than fishing lures in that box!" she cried.

Dylan chuckled darkly as he flipped the old red metal case open. "I think I may have something useful," he commented.

Corinna glanced over her shoulder as Dylan lay across the narrow back seat, clutching two blue steel revolvers in his hands. She grinned. "Go fishing with magnums often?" she quipped over the staccato sounds of yet more gunfire. She felt bullets whizzing past her head.

"I save these for the really big fish," he said with a cocky smile. "Now. There's going to be a dip in the road up ahead. With the rain we've been getting, I bet it's a small pond right now. Tell me right before we hit it."

Corinna trained her eyes forward, seeing where the road fell past a low rise. Beyond, water glistened in the afternoon sun, evidence of, as Dylan had said, a pond about twenty feet across. "Almost there!"

"Good. Floor it!" shouted Dylan, then dove without hesitation out the back window.

What the hell? wondered Corinna as she glanced to the rear-view window. Dylan flattened himself within the bed of the truck, staying below the edge of the tailgate. You crazy son of a bitch . . . I hope you know what you're doing. She shoved her foot to the floor, making the truck's engine roar in response. The truck bounced as it thundered up the rise.

"We're about to go airborne!" she yelled.

In the truck bed, Dylan grabbed a canvas strap, looping it quickly around his upper arm. He felt the truck climb the short rise and gritted his teeth in preparation. A moment later, gravity lurched through him as the truck left the ground. He bounced in the bed of the truck, momentarily weightless as ridged metal beneath him left his back. He watched the black 4X4 as it hurtled closer. The driver had both hands on the wheel.

But then the pursuing vehicle vanished as the truck came back down. Dylan felt the impact of the truck slamming back into the ground, right in the midst of the small pond. Water flew up on either side of him. Then the truck was through it, tires gouging out dirt and gravel once more.

Quickly, Dylan slid to the end of the bed and slammed both his booted feet into the tailgate. Intending only to knock it down, the tailgate instead flew away, dancing across the road in the truck's wake.

And there, some twenty meters or less behind, was the black 4X4, just clearing the rise before the pond. Lighter than Dylan's venerable truck, it soared higher and further in the air. That was what Dylan had been waiting for. Extending both arms, he aimed the revolvers toward their target and pulled the triggers as fast as his fingers could move.

The twin magnums bucked only slightly in his hands as Dylan kept his aim true. The front grill and one of the headlights on the black 4X4 shattered under the powerful impacts. The bumper dented, pock-marked with impacts. Both front tires exploded.

The 4X4 returned to earth, creating a terrific eruption of water as it slammed into the small pond. The ruined tires forced the truck down in the front, rims catching on mud and rock. The velocity of the vehicle caused the front to dig into the ground and the rear to lift up, carried by momentum. For a moment, the truck skidded out of the pool of water, perpendicular to the ground, before toppling forward onto the roof. Windows shattered and metal crumpled amid a cloud of dust and dirt.

Corinna slammed on the brakes, jerking the wheel so that the truck fishtailed and skidded to a halt. For a moment, she merely stared at the results of Dylan's actions. The 4X4 rocked back and forth on its crumpled roof, smoke trailing from within the engine compartment. She was impressed.

"Dylan?" she queried, looking to the back of the truck.

Dylan chuckled, sitting up in the truck bed. "Feel like I just rode the Rattler without the safety bar down," he commented. "But I'm fine." He gestured to the overturned 4X4. "Think that took care of your, uh, rectum-wiper?"

Corinna smirked. "Rectifier," she corrected. "Got any more bullets for those things?"

Dylan nodded and slid off the back of the truck. "Tackle box," he said.

Corinna reached into the back, opening the red chest, finding a box of .357 magnum shells. With the bullets in hand, she stepped from the truck and joined Dylan, setting the bullets on the frame of the truck bed.

"So, are you going to tell me what's going on?" he asked as he reloaded one of the revolvers. The other he had slipped into the front of his jeans.

Casually, Corinna took the pistol from Dylan's jeans and reloaded it as well with practiced moves. "I work for the Temporal Management Agency," she said. "About twenty-five hours ago, I was sent here to stop your father from being assassinated."

Dylan arched an eyebrow. "How did you know it was going to happen?"

Corinna gave him a look. "Because, where I come from, it already happened," she said, then headed down the road, holding the revolver beside her right leg as she approached the 4X4.

A quizzical frown on his face, Dylan followed, jogging to catch up. "Don't tell me you're from the future," he said dubiously, coming up beside Corinna.

She nodded. "Yup," she confirmed as they reached the ruined vehicle. She pointed with her weapon to the twisted, black-garbed body inside. "And so is that."

Dylan sighed ruefully. "Just when I thought I was going to get some ans—" he began, but cut himself off as the figure, half-hanging out of the 4X4, moved, lifting it's head and dragging a crooked arm across its chest. But before the pistol it held could be brought to bear, Corinna snapped up her revolver. The single report echoed across the prairie. The expressionless head jerked back, the back of the head exploding with a shower of sparks and scorched wires.

"You can only kill a Rectifier android by destroying the head, or removing it from the body," she said calmly. As the two of them watched, the air around the inert android wavered and shifted, then seemed to fold in upon itself. Another moment, and all evidence of the automaton's existence was gone.

Corinna sighed. "They always do that," she informed. Her eyes drifted up to Dylan's. "So, do you believe me now?"

Dylan stared at her, unsure of what to think. "That thing was from the future," he said. "And so are you?"

Corinna nodded. "I know, hard to believe." She faced him. "We have a lot to talk about, Mr. Dylan Moon."

He held her gaze for a long moment, then nodded. "I guess we do."

She smiled, looking him over. "You know, for an old geezer, you're looking pretty good," she remarked. "What's your secret?"

Dylan pursed his lips. "Yeah, we do have a lot to talk about."

***

Agent Bellew stood outside the observation window of the medical bay, looking at Dylan as he sat shirtless in a chair. A lab-coated medical tech was leaning over him, pulling adhesive pads attached to wires from his torso. Corinna found herself shifting on her feet. Damn, he's got a gorgeous chest . . . .

She felt someone step up beside her, glanced to the Director.

"Hard to believe he's seventy-three," Col. Naveen said. "But DNA is pretty convincing."

Corinna frowned in amazement. "But look at him. He sure as hell doesn't look seventy-three."

Radha nodded. "No, he does not," she agreed. "And every test likens his body to that of a man less than half his actual age. Very little cellular decline. He's a medical mystery, to be sure."

"Does he age at all?"

"According to Dr. Ziske, yes. But at a much slower rate than the rest of us. His life expectancy must be in the hundreds."

Corinna whistled low. "Wow. Imagine what he'll see in his lifetime."

Radha smiled and winked at her agent. "Thanks to you, he now has a second chance."

Corinna scoffed. "Thanks to me? I was just a spectator."

"Somehow I doubt that," the Director said. She touched Corinna's arm. "Good work, Agent Bellew. Debriefing in twenty minutes."

Corinna nodded with a smile. "Yes, Ma'am."

***

The three of them sat around the head of the table in the Command Room. Corinna and Dylan had both changed into more suitable attire. While far from formal, slacks and leather jackets, button-down shirts and silk blouses were improvements over sticky, sweaty T-shirts and jeans. Likewise, Corinna's wound had been cleaned and dressed.

"There are only a handful of people who know about the TMA," the Director explained to Dylan. "This is a multi-national facility, answerable only to the UN Security Council. We have members from almost every member of the United Nations."

Dylan nodded. "I noticed that. Good thing I speak a few languages."

Radha fixed Dylan with a piercing look. "I guess seven decades gives you plenty of time to learn."

Dylan stared back, unintimidated by the Director's strong dark eyes. "If you're going to ask me how I'm seventy-three with the body of a man half my age, I don't know," he said. "It took me a long time to figure out that I wasn't aging like everyone else does. When I hit forty and didn't have any wrinkles, I started wondering. By the time I was fifty, and people started making comments, I figured I had to do something. Started putting grey highlights in my hair, then dyed it white. But I still wasn't really showing my age."

"So you retired from the FBI," Corinna said. "Told people you died, added 'junior' to your name."

Dylan nodded. "I'd been away from Seguin for almost thirty years," he said. "So when I came back and told everyone I was Dylan Moon's son, no one blinked an eye. Opened a new account, had my retirement checks sent there . . . then politely informed the FBI that Dylan Moon passed away. No one ever noticed that I was using the same social security number."

Radha tapped her fingers on the tabletop. "And now you're here," she said pointedly.

Dylan took a breath, let it out slowly. He gave a crooked smile. "If I hadn't seen that . . . Rectifier robot," he said. "If I hadn't come here through a . . . 'time portal,' or whatever you call it, I might have thought you were all nuts. But now you tell me that if I don't join you, if I don't become an agent, then dozens of events in history will be changed for the worse. I don't really have much of a choice, do I?"

Radha and Corinna exchanged looks. The field agent said nothing, deferring to the Director.

"There is always free will," Radha said. "Now that your premature death has been averted, we were able to narrow down the events in history that you would have been involved with. We have over twenty agents. Any one of them could be sent on the missions to which you would have been assigned."

Dylan pursed his lips in thought. "Maybe," he said. "But would they succeed? We already know I would."

Radha smiled slowly. "That would appear true. Still, the future is never written in stone, even when the future is the past."

Dylan chuckled. "Now that's something I never figured I would hear."

The Director leaned back in her chair. "It's up to you, Mr. Moon," she said, feeling a need to address the man as her elder, despite his appearance. "You have no obligation to—"

"I'm in," he said abruptly.

Radha blinked. "Are you sure?" she asked, surprised by Dylan's quick acquiescence.

Dylan smiled. "According to your own doctors, a conservative estimate on my age expectancy is over two hundred years," he said. "Do you really think I could spend the next twenty decades on a farm? Besides . . ."

Dylan leaned forward on the table, rubbing his hands. "I became a cop, then joined the FBI, for a reason. Maybe it was the ideology of a young man in 1955, but I felt that I could help people. I wanted to. I'd never had a family; my mother died giving birth to me and I grew up as a bad kid in a post-Depression orphanage. When I finally gained some maturity, I made a decision: to have courage and integrity. For almost thirty years, I upheld those ideas . . . until I realized that I couldn't go on without raising questions."

He lifted his eyes and looked first to Radha, then to Corinna. "I've spent the last twenty-plus years pretending to be someone else, living under the radar for fear that I might become someone's lab rat. Now, you're giving me the chance to do what I was born to do. Again."

Corinna smiled, feeling impressed, inspired, and aroused. "You'd be a welcome addition, Dylan."

"Indeed," agreed Radha.

Dylan smiled, looking to the Director. "When's my first mission?" he asked.

***

His quarters were spartan, but Dylan had expected that. The walls were earthen in color, with two wall sconces that supplied soft, indirect amber lighting. There was a typical military-style bed, a desk, and a locker box for his possessions.

I'm gonna have to do some redecorating, Dylan thought, tossing his duffel on the bed. At the least, I'll need a bookshelf . . . .

"Agent Moon?"

Dylan turned to see Corinna standing in the doorway, one arm raised and propped seductively against the frame. A catlike smile graced her lips, showing her slight dimples and smoker's wrinkles. Her soft jade eyes were tickled by the faintest of crow's feet.

"Sounds good, doesn't it?" she asked, stepping into the room. "'Agent Moon.'"

He chuckled softly, then turned away, unpacking his singular bag. "You look better without the mask," he said. "What's that stuff called, again?"

"Synthflesh," Corinna responded, coming around him. She sat on the edge of his bed, looking up at Dylan. "This isn't going to be anything like you've experienced before, you know."

His eyes flashed to her as he smile slyly. "Are you talking about being a TMA agent, or . . . us?"

Corinna breathed in, trying to control her simmering libido. Her lips curled. "Am I that obvious?"

His smile grew. "A little."

Corinna looked down at her hands, aware of their shaking. She rubbed them together. "I guess a few decades of law enforcement lets you know how to read people."

Dylan nodded. "Maybe," he said. "How's your arm?"

Corinna touched the wound through her blouse. "Not bad. The bullet went right through. And with the new anti-inflammatory meds, healing is a lot quicker."

Dylan smiled. "Good to know." He laid out the few shirts, slacks and jeans he had packed, then straightened, digging his hands in his pockets. "So, is this a non-smoking joint?"

Corinna chuckled. "Officially, yes. But I've never been a PC kind of girl."

Dylan produced a silver cigarette case with a smile, snapped it open. He watched as Corinna took a cigarette, then flipped open the matching Zippo. For a moment, they both smoked in silence, letting the air grow hazy with smoke.

"You know, when I was younger," Dylan said. "There was smoking everywhere. Restaurants, department stores, theaters. The first time I went into a restaurant and the hostess asked me if I wanted smoking or non-smoking . . . oh, well. 'The times, they are a-changing.'"

Corinna laughed softly. "Try growing up in the early eighties," she said. "When everything was changing."

Dylan nodded, his smile unwavering. "I loved the eighties, even if I was supposed to be an old man," he said. "Reagan was a great president."

Corinna nodded, curling her fingers on the mattress, trying to contain her desire. "Yes, he was," she agreed. "Last of the great ones—"

"I want you."

Corinna breathed in, her cheeks and neck blushing. Her jaw worked for a moment as she struggled with the words in her head. "Wow," she said at last.

Dylan stepped before the younger woman, reached with a single hand and lightly cupped her chin. "Is fraternization allowed?" he asked.

Corinna breathed out. "Even if it wasn't, I'd still fuck you," she said in a heated tone, giving him a meaningful look.

***

They undressed each other slowly, standing beside the bed and watching each other as buttons were popped and zippers tugged. Corinna's cheeks reddened as she separated the fabric of Dylan's shirt and let her hands wander over his muscles. He did not have the chiseled look of an obsessive body builder; rather, he possessed the sort of naturally strong body gained through a combination of genetics and active living. The hair on his chest was soft and curly, a novelty for Corinna, who had gotten used to young pretty boys who shaved their body hair.

Neither made a noise other than soft sighs as their lips brushed, then pressed together. Their kissing became more passionate, with Corinna pressing herself to Dylan. His shirt fell to the floor behind him, and his hands came up to remove hers.

Corinna stepped back once her small breasts were revealed, unabashed in her nudity. She smiled cattily, teasing her engorged nipples with the tips of her fingers. Dylan smiled, his own arousal showing through his slacks. Corinna eyed the bulge, lowered herself to the bed.

"Come here," she whispered.

Dylan did so, stopping just before the topless woman as she sat on the bed's edge. She tugged gently on his unzipped slacks, grinning at the lack of underwear beneath. She licked her lips at the sight of Dylan's impressive cock, angling down over thick testicles. Her hands tested the weight, the feel of it. She felt the shaft grow against the palm of her hand.

"Let me know if I do something you don't like," Corinna said, looking up at Dylan as she leaned in, slipping her tongue past her lips.

"No worries so far," Dylan said, then sighed softly as Corinna licked up and down the length of his shaft. The warmth of her breath, the firm wetness of her tongue, quickly brought him to his full length.