Captain Carlin stood at the large conference room table, his posture straight but relaxed. The door slid open, admitting Commander Thornton. The commander's presence filled the room instantly—eyes sharp, calculating, surveying everything with military precision.

"Commander," Carlin greeted, nodding. "Glad you could make it."

Thornton gave a brisk nod, his gaze flicking to the AI floating near the table—ADAM. "And this is the infamous ADAM," he said, his voice tinged with skepticism.

Carlin stepped aside, gesturing toward the floating orb. "Yes, this is ADAM. He’s been integral to most of the operations you'll be overseeing. His knowledge is extensive."

A soft mechanical hum filled the room, and ADAM’s voice came through with perfect clarity. "Commander Thornton. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Thornton gave a brief, almost imperceptible nod. "The pleasure’s mine, I’m sure." He turned back to Carlin. "So, Captain, what exactly am I walking into?"

Carlin glanced at ADAM, stepping back. "I’ll leave that to ADAM to explain."

ADAM’s voice immediately took over. " Your team's position in the R.A.C.E initiative is designed to gather information from various cultures of humanity's greatest warriors. We’re not bringing individuals back, but rather extracting their DNA using time displacement technology that ensures no disturbances to the timelines."

Thornton’s brow furrowed. He sat down, arms crossed. "So, you’re pulling warriors from Earth’s past without altering history? How does that work?”

ADAM responded smoothly. “With the cloaking technology we’ve developed, our team will blend seamlessly into the cultures they observe. The device projects a matching visual image, replicating the clothing, movements, and mannerisms of the people they’re studying. The team will appear to be of that time—undetected."

"That’s ambitious," Thornton said, his tone a mixture of intrigue and caution. "But you’re only extracting DNA? We aren’t grabbing these people?"

"Correct," ADAM affirmed. "No physical beings are brought back. Only genetic material is retrieved, ensuring no disruption to history. Furthermore, we’ll control the number of warriors extracted, minimizing any risks to the past or future."

Thornton nodded slowly, taking it in. "And once the data is gathered, what happens next?"

Carlin stepped forward again. "Once your team has collected the necessary intel, scientists will review the findings before any action is taken. They’ll travel to the time in question only after everything has been analyzed and verified."

ADAM added, "The investigators will spend three days per culture. Day one is dedicated to base observation—understanding their environment, lifestyle, and social structures. Day two is focused on battle, conflict, and hunting tactics, gathering crucial information on their fighting methods. Day three is reserved for mental assessment and communication—studying how these warriors think, strategize, and interact with others."

Thornton leaned back in his chair. "I see. And once that data is collected, you’ll extract DNA from the strongest warriors?"

"Exactly," ADAM confirmed. "That genetic material will be used to create enhanced clones, prepped for the fight against the Shapers. It will give us warriors with the skills needed to combat them effectively."

"Warriors from history, enhanced for the present," Thornton repeated, still processing. "But I assume there are risks involved."

Carlin’s expression darkened. "Yes. Any project of this magnitude carries risk. A misstep could have unintended consequences, but Klana Suleg and his forces are a threat we can’t afford to ignore. We have to take this chance."

Thornton ran a hand through his hair. "I still don’t like the idea of manipulating history, but I understand the stakes. I’m in."

"Good," Carlin said. "Your role will be to lead the team, identify viable cultures, and gather intelligence. We can’t afford to miss anything."

Thornton met Carlin’s gaze, his resolve hardening. "Understood. I’ll start with the details. Every piece of the puzzle needs to fit if we’re going to make this work."

Carlin nodded. "ADAM will provide ongoing support and monitor the operation closely. You’ll work with the team to ensure everything aligns."

"Alright, then," Thornton said, rising from his seat. "I’ll begin preparing the team and set these things in motion."

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With that, the meeting wrapped up. Commander Thornton’s mind was already running through the logistics—calculating the risks and weighing the potential rewards of what lay ahead. The mission was clear: gather information from various cultures of humanity's greatest warriors so the science bigwigs could enhance their genetic makeup, and prepare them for battle against the Shapers. But with that goal came the heavy responsibility of ensuring no harm was done to the timeline—and the operation was flawless.

Later that day…

Thornton paced the length of his office, his hands clasped behind his back as he mulled over the task ahead. The weight of the mission was already pressing down on him, but there was still work to be done before he could move forward. The office was spacious, with walls lined with shelves of neatly arranged data pads, tactical manuals, and military histories. The dim lighting created a calm, contemplative atmosphere, though the faint hum of the ventilation system added a sense of quiet urgency. His desk, made of dark polished wood, was organized with military precision—no unnecessary papers or clutter. On it sat a few reports, a holo-tablet, and an old coffee cup.

He stopped near his desk, glancing over the stack of reports, then turned to his assistant, sitting at the terminal.

"Barrett," he said, his voice sharp but not unkind. "I need you to pull some files for me. Not a whole box—just the top three. We're looking for candidates with a specific skill set for this mission."

Barrett, a lean, no-nonsense officer with a permanent air of casual professionalism, didn’t miss a beat. His workspace, in contrast to Thornton’s meticulously organized desk, was a bit more cluttered. A scattering of data pads, holo-screens, and reports surrounded his terminal. The room was bathed in the soft glow of a few low-hanging lights, casting shadows that were both comforting and unsettling in the quiet office. His desk had seen years of use, with its edges worn and surface peppered with coffee stains and scuffs. A few personal items—a framed photo of a past assignment, a small ceramic mug—added a touch of personality to his otherwise pragmatic space.

Barrett’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, already pulling up the relevant personnel to choose from. "Top three, sir. Got it."

Thornton continued, his eyes scanning the terminal as Barrett’s fingers flew across the keys. "We need someone with strong combat strategy, weapon analysis, and someone who can handle a bit of culture shock. I need people who will get in, get the intel, and get out without any drama."

Barrett nodded, already filtering through the personnel files, his eyes darting over the screen. "Right, so no drama. Do you want tactical specialists, warrior types, and someone who can adapt quickly to unfamiliar cultures?"

"Exactly," Thornton replied, his tone focused. "I don’t need a whole box of recommendations—I don’t have time to sift through every option. Just bring me the top three candidates. The ones who fit the bill, no questions. We move fast on this."

Barrett’s fingers paused for a moment, then continued their rapid dance across the keyboard. "Understood. Just a sec..." The soft clicking of the keys was the only sound in the room for a few moments, punctuated by the occasional hum from the office’s systems.

The flickering light from the terminal cast a faint glow on Barrett's face as he glanced at the files once more. He didn’t look up as Thornton stood and prepared to leave for the day. 

Finally, Barrett turned toward Thornton. "I’ll have them ready for you first thing tomorrow, sir."

Thornton gave a nod, trusting Barrett’s professionalism.

 "Good work, Barrett. I’ll leave it in your hands. Make sure they’re prepped and ready for the briefing." The commander’s footsteps echoed briefly in the stillness of the office before the door slid shut behind him.

Barrett offered a small salute as Thornton left for the night. His fingers remained poised over the keyboard, though he didn’t immediately begin his next task. As the door clicked shut behind the commander, Barrett remained at his desk, silently staring at the screen in front of him, eyes narrowing.

An hour later, the office door creaked open, and Reginald Ludlow stepped in, his presence commanding the room. Reginald was an older man, his hair graying at the temples and slicked back neatly. His posture was impeccable, and his tailored suit exuded authority, but there was something about him that made people uneasy. He looked every bit the part of a councilman, refined and proper on the surface, but his unsettling smile and sharp, calculating eyes suggested a man who was used to getting what he wanted through less-than-honorable means. He had the air of someone who always had a plan—and wasn’t afraid to manipulate others to achieve it.

He didn’t bother with formalities—just walked in like he owned the place. The soft whoosh of the door closing behind him seemed louder in the quiet office.

Barrett barely looked up from his terminal, aware of Ludlow’s arrival but preferring to continue his work. "Mr. Ludlow," he said without missing a beat, "Can I assist you?"

Reginald didn’t reply immediately, instead taking a few steps into the office, his gaze fixed on Barrett as he closed the door behind him. "I hear you're compiling a team for a very important part of the upcoming mission," he said smoothly, his tone friendly but with a hint of authority. "And I trust my son, Percival Ludlow, is on that list?" He began to fiddle with a small sculpture on Barretts desk.  The man seemed confident he could change any response he was given so Barrett wasn't surprised when he asked what he did.

Barrett turned slightly in his chair but kept his focus on the terminal. "The list isn’t finalized yet. It’s still in review."

Reginald’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he forced a smile. "Well, I’m sure you’re aware of the value my son brings to any mission. I’m sure he’s a perfect fit for this… research initiative. I wouldn’t want to see anyone else taking the lead."

Barrett kept his voice neutral, not looking up from his screen. "Mr. Ludlow, the team selection is based on specific criteria for the mission. It’s not personal."

Reginald stepped closer, leaning against the desk, his tone shifting to one of quiet command. "I understand. But I’m telling you—Percival has the necessary expertise. He's exactly the kind of investigator you need. You can’t go forward without him."

Barrett sighed internally, knowing where this conversation was headed. He kept his posture relaxed and unyielding, but his mind began to race. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep up this façade.

"You’ll add his file to the list," Reginald continued, now clearly pressing the issue. "You’ll make sure that the other candidate you’ve chosen—Carver—he’s the one to be removed. I trust you’ll take care of this swiftly."

Barrett hesitated. He’d already reviewed the files, but Reginald wasn’t asking—he was demanding. "Mr. Ludlow, I’ve already made my selections based on the needs of the mission," Barrett replied carefully. "I can’t just make changes like that."

Reginald’s expression hardened, his voice lowering to a more threatening level. "You can—and you will. Make the adjustment now, or I’ll make sure a certain… recording of yours finds its way into the wrong hands." He tapped a comm link to the holo-tablet and a video of Barrett voicing some rather intoxicated opinions about the United World started to play. 

Barrett froze, his stomach sinking as he realized what was happening. He had no choice in the matter. Reginald had him cornered.

"Understood," Barrett muttered, his fingers moving quickly over the keyboard. He clicked through the files and removed Carver’s name from the list, replacing it with Percival Ludlow’s. His heart pounded in his chest as he silently wished for the ordeal to be over.

Reginald watched over his shoulder with a satisfied smile. "Good. I knew you'd come to your senses."

Without another word, Reginald turned and exited the office, his footsteps echoing in the stillness. The door clicked shut, and Barrett slumped in his chair, his hand shaking slightly as he deleted the incriminating recording from the system. Barrett kept his head down, determined to move forward, even if the situation had taken an unexpected—and uncomfortable—turn.

The tension in the room was palpable, and his thoughts raced. What would this mean for the mission? And how far would Reginald go to ensure his son’s success?