Department of Time Travel, NASA
“How’s he doing?”
“Stable,” Dakota replies as gathers the stack of paper in front of her, handing it over to Karen. “I gave him his vaccines just in case, by the way. Nothing out of the ordinary from what I could tell. His blood samples seem fine, he looks healthy.”
“That’s better than nothing. Did you find anything interesting from the guy?” Karen asks, flipping through the papers as the two women make their way down through the dimly lit corridor.
“Said something about getting drunk after his brother’s assassination back in sixty-three and got himself into a car crash. Still doesn’t know how he got here.”
“Well, this is the first case I’ve heard of a guy getting drunk and time travel but it doesn’t surprise me much considering after Lyla Parks’ incident.”
Dakota sighs as she follows the director into the DTT main building, the latter handing back the doctor her files on the guy. People are scurrying everywhere, papers flying and laptops open.
“He’s being questioned right now by Alexander,” Karen states, scanning her ID and the door slides open to another section of the building. “After it’s documented and the incident’s put into the books, I can see with Johnson if she’ll allow me to take the guy in for a while as things are getting sorted for this case.”
“Even she does, what the hell are we going to do afterward? After the case is...whatever?”
“I don’t know, to be honest.”
The familiar voice of Alexander Prior calls out Karen’s name, the two women stopping in their tracks as the man approaches them and Karen looks up from her phone.
“His files,” Alexander states, handing the director a thick manila folder. “If you want to go in and talk to him, you can, but don’t expect him to talk because of how drugged up he is right now on meds.”
Alexander exhales, nods at both women before jogging off in the opposite direction.
Karen and Dakota exchange glances as the director motions for the latter to follow her into a closed off room.
Dakota closes the door behind her, making sure it doesn’t slam.
Nearly twenty minutes later, the two women have read the folder back to back multiple times and the both of them had come to an agreement on meeting the nineteen year old.
A young man sits across from Karen, his eyes flickering between the two women as he wrings his hands nervously.
“Jonathan Kennedy?” Karen asks, glancing up as she opens the folder to the front page, revealing information about the guy. “May I call you Jon for short?”
He nods, still not giving a response.
“Well,” the director starts off. “Where would you like to begin?”