You know that perfect morning, where the sky is clear, the air is clean, and the sun is just coming up over the horizon? Well today is not one of those days. I glanced out the window of my small kitchen at the pouring rain sipping my hot chocolate and glancing down at the plain band around my wrist denoting the time, date, and year. This may seem odd to some people, but when you have my job, time traveler extraordinaire, know when you are is just as important as where you are. I knew going into work this morning would be just as long and boring as usual, made more difficult by this heavy rain, but once at work things promised to be interesting and I might even be taking a trip back in time on a mission. Last night something had all the news broadcasts acting oddly, and other signs of a change in the timestream were beginning to become more obvious to the regular folks of the world.

I pulled on the jacket and slung my messenger bag over my shoulder as I braced to walk out the door, the chilly mid-October rain always seeming to make its way under my clothing no matter what I wore. With any kind of luck, I’d be making my first solo trip since finishing training back in time to fix something wrong with the current time line. As I made my way down the stairs to my car, I felt eyes on me watching my progress from somewhere in the apartment complex I’d been living in since moving out of my parents' house 3 years ago. With a small shiver running up my spine, I unlocked and let myself into my small car and pulled away, making the 20-minute drive to headquarters feel like 90.

Headquarters of STATs (department of spatial tracking and stability), always reminds me of old pictures I’ve seen in the archives about 18th century castles. I swiped my ID badge at the gates allowing smooth access to the underground parking garage, blessing them for once about hiding “modern” conveniences in what effectively looks like and masquerades as a museum. Once I found a parking space, another badge swipe allowed me access to the elevators, partially filled with others sipping coffee and looking just as pleased to be here on a Saturday morning as I was in this dismal weather.

I passed through security, smiling at Dan, our resident geek and current security guard. I always kind of thought he had a crush on me, but it might just stem from the goodies I bring back from trips to fuel his other love...ancient roleplaying board games.

“Working the weekends? Man must be something big, they’ve got half the archivists working triple overtime downstairs trying to figure out what's got things all outta whack.” Dan spoke softly as he made a point of checking my bag and badge before waving me through. “Evan is on escort duty, and I think I saw your mother earlier.”

I nodded my thanks and moved through the security gate, taking long strides to keep pace with the rest of the crowd, sometimes it does stink being a fully grown adult and being barely 5 feet tall. I turned off down a hallway, and with another badge swipe, entered the travelers den. it was a large comfortable room, with multiple desks and computers scattered all around. a massive plate glass window looked down into this area where I knew from previous visits sat the only two viable time machines in recorded history.

I waved to a few people I knew as I made my way carefully through the maze of desks and chairs, and crept up behind an older woman, her short silvery hair flying in every direction from her hands repeatedly being run through it. There was a pencil clamped between her teeth as her long nimble fingers flew over the keys, and a pad of paper sitting beside her filled with her shorthanded scribblings. “Amaya Tennan, if you think you can sneak up on your mother in this mad house, you have another thing coming!” She turned in her chair putting the pencil behind one ear and smiling as only a mother to the youngest child can achieve. This is my mother, head archivist for STAT specializing in ancient Egyptian history, lore, and myths. The words were harsh but the smile behind the words let me knew that she once again had this sixth sense about people around her despite the noise and crush of people.

“They called me in, I think I’m getting my first solo run. I think it’s because Brandon got sick of me getting lost in the crowds no matter when we went.” I chuckled as I remembered our last training run to ancient Rome, which ended in a rather nasty scuffle with a roman Centurion, a senator, and Brandon covered in slime. “They say he’ll get the stink off him sometime...”

“TENNAN!” A gruff voice boomed out from somewhere above us, which was unmistakably the voice of my boss Allan Groomsman. Big burly beefcake former military man, served in the jungles of Africa before being promoted to head the time travel agency. They say he found the second time machine buried deep in the African rain forests, a near perfect mirror image of the one we currently have working.

I jumped slightly, never did like loud noises, and mom gave me a quick squeeze of my hand before turning back to her own work. I climbed the short flight of stairs up into the crow’s nest, where the loud babble of voices was cut off almost abruptly as I shut the door behind me. Inside sat 4 people I vaguely recognized, each one working on computers themselves. Groomsman stood tall above and behind them a frown crossing his rugged features, though I was fairly convinced that that was his normal resting face. 5 years working for STAT and never once had I seen him smile? Wordlessly he handed me a file, which I opened and began reading as he spoke.

“We’ve traced the disturbance from last night to a singular point in European history. Otto Von Bismarck, well renowned Prussian diplomat died...in 1843. His death has been sending out shockwaves as history attempts to rewrite itself. We need to make sure he stays alive and find out who murdered him. The information you need is in that file, go to wardrobe to get your costume. Report to the jump bay when you’ve finished your briefing. Do not have a repeat of the Rome incident, Tennan.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Having been summarily dismissed, I began walking towards wardrobe. This massive closet was run by two women, who knew every possible thing you needed to know about the dress and mannerisms of almost every time period in history. They were scary seamstresses that looked like little old grandmothers.

As I entered their lair, I pulled out the first page of the file I’d been handed. The breakdown of what type of garb I'd need to fit in with whenever I’d be heading. This including things down to jewelry, clothing, shoes, and any accessories I’d need for the job and not stick out like a sore thumb. You wouldn’t want to wear blue jeans and a metallic t-shirt to 6th century Italy now, would you?

Nervously I called out into the enormous room, filled floor to ceiling in almost every type of period clothing you could possibly imagine, from hand painted silk for Chinese history, to wool uniforms for American civil war era, boots, shoes, sandals, hats, necklaces, bracelets, broaches, just about everything you could possibly imagine. My file said I was taking the persona of a 20 something Prussian noblewoman so I was expecting high necked dressed, with a corset tight enough to crack ribs, and skirts trailing 6 inches below my toes...did I mention I hated being so short? Anna, the younger of the two whose domain I had entered, eyed me up and down while a frown creased her wrinkled face.

I squirmed under her gaze since the last outfit she’d put me in had to actually be burned because of the smell and muck emanating from it due to the Rome mishap. Sheepishly I handed her the page and shifted my weight back and forth. Trust me I’d rather face down an angry horde of Mongol warriors, annoyed that I'd taken their totem, than face this woman's wrath again. She chuckled at my discomfort and walked around me clucking her tongue in thought. “You’re just too short for most of what I have on hand...why can’t you be more like your brother and mother? They are easily dressed...” She pushed me into a changing room and came back 2 minutes later handing me a black garment bag.

It took me a good 5 minutes to figure out where everything went and Anna STILL had to help me tie the corset. The off the shoulder top with hugely puffed sleeves looked utterly ridiculous to me, but this was apparently the height of fashion for young ladies of the time. The long full skirts dragged the ground, no matter how much I bundled them up in my hands, but thankfully Anna had me hop up on a stool and brought the hemline up to a respectable height to just above my ankles. I breathed a sigh of relief and then was unceremoniously plopped down into another chair vaguely resembling a barbers’ chair as another person...John I think I remember his name to be, came in and begun to work on my long black hair. Under the best of circumstances my hair is what you would call difficult, it’s long and naturally curly that seems to have a mind of its own no matter what I did to it. 20 minutes later he’d finally managed to comb, curl, clip, and pin my hair into a mass of curls atop my head that I still felt was silly, but what do I know of Victorian Europe styles?

I’d found out when and where I was going while all this was going on, normally I’m what you’d call a fetcher. I go into the mists of time and secure artifacts that are deemed too dangerous to be left just laying around. Other times I am sent to make sure that things are left to where they are meant to be. This was neither of those instances, this time I was being sent to 1832 Prussia, to keep a nobleman safe, and find out who wants him dead. History tells me that he died of a natural death in 1898.

Anna was approaching me with a pair of high heeled buckled shoes that looked way to uncomfortable to be practical, which of course meant that they were the height of fashion. My left leg ached at the sight of them, this ache is a funny thing...I’ve never broken a bone in my life, yet I’ll get what they used to call phantom pains in this one leg. There's even a trace of a faint scar right along my shin, but I always attributed that to my clumsy graceless childhood full of random injuries as I tested the limits of myself and I’m sure my parents' patience. John finished with my hair as Anna finished helping buckle these things onto my feet. I stood up and wobbled on shaky legs for a moment as I adjusted to the imbalance of this impractical outfit.

Anna had me walk around in them for a few minutes to make sure I could look proper, and coached me on wording to use depending on the class of person I was speaking. My German was passable, but my French was deplorable, so they hoped I wouldn’t run into any Frenchman while I was back there. With that final admonition they sent me on my way, but I’d swear that I heard them burst into laughter as I wobbled out of the room into the halls. I closed my eyes, straightened my shoulders took a deep breath...and walked straight into a solid wall of flesh. A firm hand grasped my elbow and as I grumbled out an apology I looked up into the eyes of Ethan, my older brother. The smile on his face was not unkind but I could definitely tell he was holding back laughter. Ethan, you see is a time cop, well he has a more official title of course, he works security for this building but on rare occasions he’s been back in time as well to when someone breaking the laws of time travel need to be brought back to justice. “Mom said you were in the cave, and I had to see what they were squeezing you into...you look...” he broke off in a bought of coughing that I’m sure was him covering up a laugh. I’m sure I did look ridiculous, and no one can ever accuse me of being graceful.

However, the walk to the time chamber was a bit long and without his guiding elbow I’m sure I would have fallen at least twice while getting there. when we entered the time chamber it really was an amazing site to see...2 huge spheres, consisting of 20 interlocking hexagons each, were how we manage the feat of time travel. There's a lot of complicated science and explanations behind how we travel through time, and honestly, it sounded like science fiction when I was a kid growing up, but most of my family works for this agency in some form or fashion, so it was fitting that I was groomed to be a traveler when I came of age, joining STAT when I was 18 years old, fresh out of high school.

Technicians were running around all over the place, working on the primary sphere getting it ready for me to enter and travel back. My brother eyed them with a mixture of fear and reverence, it wasn’t often he was needed to go back in time, but due to the nature of this jump there was a chance he’d be needed as well, and we were glad for the backup sphere. He helped me climb the metal steps to the entrance of the sphere and helped arrange my skirts and secure my harness giving me a thumbs up and a wink before stepping back. The inside of the sphere honestly looked like a space ship with as many switches, gadgets, gears, and control stick were needed to keep this thing on course. I grabbed the control stick, shifted my weight slightly, the chair was uncomfortable in the best of circumstances, and gave the techs outside the thumbs up for them to close the hatch and start the count down.