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repeatedly, following the scare six months earlier. The control room itself had morphed into a fully kitted-out command centre. The nearest thing Jack could compare it to was NASA mission control. Jack and Angus sat in an observation area within the control room. Angus followed the proceedings with great excitement and would occasionally nudge Jack and point something out as the transfer time drew close.
    As they watched, a door at the far end of the control centre opened and the VIGIL response squad arrived from thepreparation annex, ready to board the Taurus.
    “Best I could do, I’m afraid,” Joplin announced.
    The response squad needed to be fully prepared for the Elizabethan period. They had to ensure that they would not inadvertently trigger something, however small, that might have a knock-on effect in the future. If they did, VIGIL might need to return to repair the damage – a risky scenario in itself. They needed to try to blend in. At the basic level, this meant wearing the right clothes. VIGIL had built up an extensive costume archive for this purpose.
    The response squad stepped forward, somewhat sheepishly, to display the fruits of their efforts. Tony and De Raillar looked reasonable. They wore snug black doublets with jerkins on top and short cloaks. Beneath their cloaks, each carried a thin backpack that contained a range of equipment for their mission and some basic provisions. Their legs were clad in breeches that were pinned in at the knee. Each had a dagger on a belt. Joplin, however, looked like something out of The Three Musketeers . He wore a loose-fitting doublet with baggy trousers that were tucked in at boot level and a long, elaborately embroidered cloak that hung jauntily from one shoulder. On his head was a ridiculous wide-brimmed hat, adorned with a long plume of feathers, and on his feet were riding boots with wide, lace-trimmed turnovers. Finally, from a broad leather belt hung… a full-length sword.
    “It’s about forty years too late for the period – but it’s all we could find in the wardrobe…” he announced.
    But the best was still to come.
    A moment later, when Gordon appeared, Jack and Angus burst out laughing. Gordon also wore a tight doublet on his upper body, but it was far too small for his powerful frame. The garment had elaborate inlays and patterns and, at the collar, Gordon’s intricate lace ruff seemed to push his chin upwards at an alarming angle. On his legs, Gordon wore enormous baggy breeches that ballooned out from his waist and were gathered in at mid-thigh level. These were also highly decorated in a night-scape of yellowhalf-moons and stars. Angus and Jack had to rub their eyes because beneath the flouncy breeches, Gordon was actually wearing tights. Bright yellow tights . They encased a pair of powerful legs that were far better suited to pumping iron than mincing around an Elizabethan royal court. To finish it off, Gordon’s white shoes were open on each side and – this was the final straw for Angus and Jack – flowers were pinned to the front. A lot of flowers.
    Inchquin put his head in his hands. Gordon shrugged, “We ran out – had to move onto the aristocrat’s section. At least I’m in period.”
    The Rector sighed. “You’ll just have to see what you can lay your hands on when you get there.”
    With everything finally in place, the Rector completed the briefing. “Any questions before we initiate countdown sequence?”
    Angus nudged Jack. He had a warped smile on his face, the kind that Jack knew typically meant only one thing – trouble.
    Jack mouthed, “What?”
    But before Jack could stop him, Angus was marching over to the Rector and Inchquin. “What about us?” he demanded.
    Jack cringed. Without hesitation, Inchquin replied, “Out of the question.”
    But Angus was not about to be patronised. “So why are we in VIGIL at all then? You have always said that one of the main points of VIGIL is to prepare the next generation, you