Alters personality

It should have been dark in the corridor, but Dieter could see reasonably clearly, albeit everything had a dull green glow.

Some kind of phosphorus perhaps? But if it was, why hadn‘t she seen it when the Observer had led them to the chamber? Come to think of it, none of this looked at all familiar.

'Nyssa?‘

Dieter could make out a figure ahead sitting...

No! That was impossible!

She was sitting on an old-fashioned wooden stile, and beyond was a field, with a tree and a sunny sky and...

'Nyssa?‘

The figure turned, beckoning her, and as Dieter got closer to the impossibility she realised the figure wasn‘t Nyssa at all. 'She‘s gone home,‘ said the figure in a male American drawl. 'Very tired and emotional.‘

Dieter half wanted to run away, back to Commander Oakwood and the others, but her curiosity got the better of her.

'Who on earth are you?‘

The man jumped off the gate, and now stood on the other side. He was oddly dressed - old-fashioned. Even his moustache seemed anachronistic and vaguely silly.

'Ma‘am, my name is LeFevre, Gaylord LeFevre, resident of Louisiana, although much of my time is spent upon the waters, travelling between Minnesota and St Louis. Heck, ma‘am, I‘ve even taken a trip down to Mexico, but that‘s a strange and primitive place and I don‘t care to go there again in a hurry. May I?‘

By now, Dieter had reached the gate, and LeFevre held his hand out to offer assistance over the stile. Although her instinct was to refuse, she found herself saying ‗Why thank you, Monsieur LeFevre, that‘s very kind of you.‘ For some reason, she was not the least bit surprised to find that she was wearing eighteenth-century dress.

'Ma‘am,‘ he said once she was over, and as he tucked her arm under his, 'it‘s a pleasure, a mighty real pleasure to have your company on a day as fine as this. Is home like this?‘ And Dieter suddenly thought of home - her tiny apartment on the twelfth floor of a thirty-storey block in Dusseldorf. Two rooms with grey, featureless walls and furniture, the sky blackened by the emissions from the kraftwerks and the windows failing to keep out the roar of the autobahns and flugplatz.

'No,‘ she said quietly. ‗No, monsieur, this is a paradise.‘

'I think, ma‘am, you would like to stay a while then, enjoy our hospitality. A game to while away the hours?‘

'Hours...? No, I... I...‘

'Yes, ma‘am?‘

Dieter knew something was wrong. She glanced back to the fence, but beyond it were fields and trees. Surely something was missing? She didn‘t remember fields and trees.

Something about darkness? Green light? A girl she was following?

'Why, sir, I am daydreaming. Where are my manners? Of course, I‘d love to watch you play at your sports.‘

'Watch? Why, ma‘am, the challenge is in the playing. You must assist me.‘

'Me?‘ Dieter flushed with embarrassment. 'Why, sir, it‘s not comely for a lady to play at sports.‘

LeFevre laughed. 'This is not the Middle Ages, ma‘am. The Toymaker would be very disappointed if you didn‘t join in the festivities over yonder.‘

Toymaker? Why did that name ring a bell?

'What game are we playing, good sir?‘

'Why, Ms Dieter... may I call you Ms Claudia?‘

Claudia. There was a name she‘d not heard for a while. She‘d been 'Oh, Nurse Dieter...‘ or 'Lieutenant-Commander Dieter...' or 'Dieter, do you think you could...‘ for years now. The last person to call her Claudia was Merten back home in... in...

Nurse Dieter? Why on Earth did she think she was a medic? And where, if she was, did she practise? She had some bizarre whimsy that last night she had dreamt about outer space, being out among the stars.

What rot.

No, here she was, a lady of leisure, enjoying a fine summer‘s day in the Black Forest with this fine American gentleman.

***

Divided Loyalties, Round 3, Chapter 2