'Zaratorio: The Story Continues' is a political parable dedicated in general to everyone who believes in #PeaceinUkraine and who says #NoToWar. More specifically, it is written in support of the brave and generous women and men of Medecins Sans Fro...
'I just feel that this mission to the ancient Black Sea is a bit of a stab in the dark. Perhaps Bronze Age Georgia (also known as Colchis) is no more dangerous than ancient Anatolia, but something about the whole situation does not feel right.'
'I can see your point. And of course what might seem like a reasonable operational risk to Amber and Anton, is that much more worrying for you, because you have feelings for Jenny.'
Anna smiles ruefully.
'You are a good friend, Brenda. Mark is giving Harnii a creative writing lesson this morning?'
'That's right; he could see that I needed a break.'
'Absolutely. And when Jennifer's mission is over, I should be due some free time, so I could give your daughter a little talk about journalism.'
'That would be really kind. Thank you ...'
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***
As Jennifer approaches Colchis from the south, she feels that it is prudent to 'cloak' PowerHeart Two and observe what is unfolding below.
'Well ... Colchis is clearly not the great power it was in the story of Aeëtes, Medea and the Golden Fleece.'
She checks her instruments and starts to film the large group of warriors congregating near the town known in modern times as Apsarus at the mouth of the Chorokhi River.
'These men are almost certainly Persian invaders – not natives – for they are wearing armour coats and forming a shield wall, as I speak. Always good to record a few voice notes for the database ...'
Two horse-drawn chariots now appear from over a nearby hill, and the men who are clearly commanding the unit begin calling out instructions.
'I'm going to land in the next valley and take stock. Perhaps there is some kind of magical regalia around here that might attract Zaratorio, and/or Sonyakolo.'
***
The snooze alarm has started its gentle rhythm, and Anna stirs from her sleep. The wider, and more puzzling, rhythms of KyivTwo are still to be taken full account of, but she does her best.
In just a few minutes she is dressed and opening up her small refrigerator to make herself a simple breakfast of milk and cereal. She is well aware of the limitations of replicated food (she occasionally wrote a restaurant column when she lived in the USA) but calories mean energy and energy means effective work for the Institute.
About half an hour later, Anna is seated at her desk in the Control Hall. She is soon checking for any messages from Jenny, scanning across both various chrono-frequencies and on the unter-space messaging system.
Good news!
There is indeed a message from ancient Georgia indicating that the red-headed chrononaut has settled in to her new mission, and that she is observing various skirmishes between the native people of Colchis and their Persian invaders.
'It's a great shame that we cannot communicate personally. But I understand why the Institute's protocols are written in the way that they are.'
Other members of staff are coming on duty now, and there are other tasks to perform, such as equipment checks and general time vortex surveys.
'I hope things go well for you, lovely Jennifer' thinks Anna, and smiles wistfully.
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