Endworld 29 - The Lords of Kismet, page 5
Socrates got their attention by rising and clearing his throat. “A momentous occasion is upon us,” he began.
Blade, seated on their Leader’s right with Jenny beside him, smiled and placed his hand on hers. He knew how worried she was and hoped nothing would be said to add to that worry.
“We are about to embark on an enterprise unlike any other,” Socrates continued. “Not by choice, but because it has been forced on us by the attack on our Home. The Lords of Kismet want to wipe us out. We must ensure that doesn’t happen.”
“The mangy varmints,” Hickok called out, and his wife, Sherry, told him to shush.
Ignoring the interruption, Socrates went on. “They might well pose the gravest threat to our Family since the Big Blast. We know they are powerful, although the full extent of that power has yet to be determined. We know that they control parts of Asia, but again, how much territory is under their sway, we have yet to learn. We know they have successfully crippled the Freedom Federation. It has been months since we’ve heard from the Free State of California, the Civilized Zone, and other factions.” He paused. “It could well be we are the last ones standing, as the old saying has it.”
An Elder named Francis stirred in his chair. “I seriously doubt the other members of the Federation were exterminated. Subjugated, yes. These Lords appear to relish holding sway over humans.”
A tall Warrior with a Mohawk raised his hand. “Why don’t we send a Triad to Denver or California to find out exactly what’s happened?”
“For the same reason, Ares, that we’re not sending Warriors overland to the Pacific Coast and from there on to Asia by ship,” Socrates said. “The time factor, we feel, is crucial. Even in the SEAL, it would take weeks to reach the Civilized Zone or California. Thus, our plan is to resort to the Time Machine.”
“Even so,” Ares said. “Why not send another Triad while Blade and Hickok and Yama are off in Asia?”
Blade felt compelled to speak up. “You’d have us deplete our strength even more?” He shook his head. “The safety of the Family comes first. We must stay at full force, or close to it, in case the Lords of Kismet attack the Home again.” He raked everyone with a meaningful stare. “Besides, you don’t kill a snake by cutting off the tail. You chop off its head. Freeing California and the Civilized Zone does nothing to stop the main threat, the Lords of Kismet, themselves.”
“It is our hope,” Socrates took up, “that the time machine will enable us to strike directly at these self-styled Lords. And with that in mind, I yield the floor to our chief Scientist.”
As their Leader sat, Tesla stood and ruffled through sheets of paper. “Yes, well,” he said, and smiled awkwardly. “The device, so far as we can tell, is operational.” He gestured at the synthezoid. “It would not have been possible without the newest member of our Family.”
“I am happy to serve,” A.l.v.i.s chirped.
“The time machine is a truly incredible device,” Tesla said. “A masterwork of ingenuity.”
Another Warrior, a hybrid with feline features, uttered a sound that was part hiss and part snarl. “Suppose you tell us a little bit more about that gizmo, Bub. I’m sort of puzzled by why you’re using a time machine to get from here to there.”
“Lynx, isn’t it?” Tesla said. “That’s an excellent question. I’m sure some of the others have wondered the same thing.”
“Don’t patronize me,” Lynx growled.
“I’m not. In fact, when the idea initially occurred to me, I discarded it as preposterous. But it gnawed at me, and the more I considered, the more I came to realize that a time machine can be used for more than time travel. It all depended on the projection coordinates. When I learned that MABEL incorporates a Time Vector System similar to GPS programming, I was elated.”
“In words of one syllable, Big Brain,” Hickok cut in, “what does all that gobbledygook mean?”
“GPS stands for Global Positioning System. It was much in use before the Big Blast. Basically, satellites were used to pinpoint any spot on the planet. Thanatos applied the same principle to time travel. It lets the time machine operator pick where the subject is sent.”
“So you can send us anywhere in Asia you want?” Hickok said. “But what about the time factor? How far back are you sending us?”
“That’s just it,” Tesla said. “We don’t have to send you far back at all. The minimal time increment is about an hour. So that’s how far back we’re hoping it will be.” He gazed about the table. “The threat we face is immediate, after all, and must be dealt with in the here and now. Not a hundred or a thousand years ago.”
“You’re ‘hoping’?” Hickok said. “In other words, it might not work?”
“The calculations are quite complicated,” Tesla said. “I can’t make any guarantees.” He mustered a grin. “So if you reach your destination and a dinosaur comes rushing out to devour you, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
CHAPTER 16
Hickok could count the number of times in his life that he’d been nervous and have fingers left over. His friends sometimes made a big deal out of it, marveling at how calm he stayed in the worst crisis. ‘Nerves of steel’, they’d often complimented him, and asked how he did it.
The truth was, Hickok didn’t know. He’d been this way since he could remember. Even as a small boy, he couldn’t recollect ever feeling afraid. Geronimo liked to joke that he’d never been afraid because a person had to have brains to feel fear. Hickok reckoned it went deeper than that. He was never afraid and hardly ever nervous because it just wasn’t in him.
But he was nervous now. The time-jump, as Tesla was calling it, could kill them in a dozen ways. And the worst part of it was, they had no control over the course of events. None whatsoever. Once Tesla pushed the button or whatever it was that activated MABEL, they were at the whim of advanced technology they barely understood.
Give Hickok a straight-up fight with an enemy any day.
Now, with the sun sinking in the west and the Family gathering for the candlelight farewell his wife had instigated, Hickok swallowed his nerves and adopted his usual swagger. His thumbs hooked in his gunbelt, he strolled toward the open space between the concrete blocks. He did a lot of smiling and nodding to folks to give the impression he didn’t have a care in the world.
The entire Family was turning out to show their appreciation. Hickok admired that but he could have done without the fuss. It only made his rare case of nerves worse.
He was leaving everyone he loved, every person he cared for, the compound that had been his home since he came into the world, and might never see any of them again.
Hickok needed something to take his mind off the mission, and he was almost grateful when feet pattered and three small figures dashed up on either side of him. “Boys,” he said.
Ringo, Cochise and Gabe were Hickok’s, Geronimo’s, and Blade’s sons, respectively. All three were chips off their old blocks, and each had already expressed an interest in following in their fathers’ footsteps and becoming Warriors when they grew into manhood.
“Pa,” Ringo said, imitating Hickok’s Western accent. “My pards and me wanted a word with you.”
“I’m all ears, son,” Hickok replied. It amused him no end that his son always tried to do things the same way he did.
“No one has told us what we’re to do while you’re gone,” Ringo said.
“That’s right,” Gabe said, nodding. “I asked my father and he told me to listen to my mother.”
“Smart hombre, that Blade,” Hickok said. “But then, I taught him everything he knows.”
“Blade knows knives,” young Cochise said. He was dressed in green like his father nearly always did.
“So?” Hickok said.
“You know guns.”
“So?”
“So when did you become expert in knives, too? Enough that you could teach Blade?” Cochise said.
“I’ll have you know I’m an expert at a lot of things,” Hickok blustered. “I don’t go around crowin’ about it because deep down I’m too humble.”
“You?” Gabe said. Like his father, he had more muscles than Ringo and Cochise combined.
“Ma is worried, Pa,” Ringo said. “Last night I got up to get a glass of water and she was standing outside, crying.”
Hickok stopped in his tracks and placed his hand on his son’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”
“She told me not to say a word to anyone,” Ringo said. “But I reckoned you should know.”
“My mother cried, too,” Gabe mentioned. “And my father hugged her until she stopped.”
“Women,” Hickok muttered. “Blubberin’ infants, the whole passel of ‘em.”
“Should I tell ma you said that?” Ringo asked.
“Not unless you want me shot,” Hickok joked.
“That’s another thing,”Ringo said. “We want you and Blade and Yama to be mighty careful over there. It would spoil my day considerable if anything were to happen to you.”
“It would spoil mine, too,” Hickok said.
“Watch out for my father, would you, Mr. Hickok,” Gabe requested. “My mother says he takes too many risks.”
“Did he get that from you, too?” Cochise asked with a smirk.
“No,” Hickok said. “Blade got that from Geronimo.”
“Hey!” Cochise said.
Hickok laughed for the first time that day.
CHAPTER 17
The ceremony was short. Sherry asked Socrates to say a few words but their new Leader bowed out.
“I’ve already expressed my sentiments and everyone knows them,” Socrates told her. “Perhaps it’s best if you do the honors. This gathering was your idea, after all. And your husband is one of those willing to boldly venture where few have gone before.”
Sherry cast Hickok a loving glance, then strode to the middle of the circle. The combined glow from the many candles lent her blond hair a golden sheen. “I want to thank all of you for coming to show your support. It does our hearts good to know that despite all that has happened, despite the invasion of our Home and the loss of our beloved former Leader and a number of our Warriors, we are still a Family. We are there for one another when we need to be.” No one said anything when she paused. Sherry held her candle out in front of her, the flame flickering in the evening breeze. “Do you see this flame? It represents our devotion to the ideals of our Founder. Kurt Carpenter believed in the paramount importance of the Family and the Home. To him, they were the cornerstones of human culture, as he wrote in his diary. Without them, civilization crumbles.”
“Extremely well put,” Socrates said.
“I read a lot,” Sherry said, and continued. “But we’re not here to talk about us, per se. We’re here to open our hearts to the fighters among us. To our Warriors. To those who care for us so much, they’re willing to put their lives at risk, day after day, year in and year out, to safeguard us from the dangers of our devastated world.”
The distant roar of a mutate punctuated her remark.
“I know what it takes because I’m a Warrior, too. I wasn’t born here, like most of you. I’m a Canadian, or from what was left of Canada after the war. And I happened to fall in love with the most remarkable man I’d ever met, who just happened to be one of your protectors. As an outsider looking in, I was astounded by the dedication the Warriors showed. I still am to this day. A dedication they are about to demonstrate, yet again, by leaping head-first into the unknown with no guarantee we will see any of them alive ever again.”
Sherry looked over at Hickok and her eyes moistened. “In about an hour from now, my husband and Blade and Yama depart. I ask you to open your hearts to them. Let them know how you feel. Give them something to carry in their own hearts during the dark days ahead.” Her voice broke, and she coughed and stepped back.
Almost immediately several Family members moved toward Hickok, offering their hands or an embrace. Others did the same with Blade. Still other began looking all about, and only then did anyone realize that Yama wasn’t among them. Shouts were raised, but no one had seen him, or knew where he was to be found.
The next forty-five minutes passed quickly. Socrates brought the well-wishing to an end by announcing it was time for those who were leaving, and their families, to assemble in the Time Chamber with the Scientists and others involved.
Hickok held Sherry’s hand all the way there. Ringo walked at their side, trying to be brave but not entirely succeeding. They were the first to enter the Chamber. The lights were on, and A.l.v.i.s hovered by the cage.
One other was there, standing with his arms clasped behind his back in a Parade-Rest posture.
“So here you are, Death Boy,” Hickok said. “Why didn’t you join us like everyone else?”
“We each prepare in our own way,” Yama answered. “And don’t call me Death Boy.”
“How about Death Head? Or Death On The Brain?”
“Don’t call me Death anything.”
Hickok chuckled. “You’re not as much fun to tease as Geronimo, but I’ll make do.”
It was then that Blade stepped up and motioned at the time machine. “Enough bickering, you two. Let’s get this show on the road.”
PART TWO
BANGKOK
PERILOUS
CHAPTER 18
Bangkok, Thailand. Before the Big Blast it had a population of over ten million, with another fifteen to twenty million in the surrounding area. The city proper covered over two million square kilometers, making Bangkok one of the largest cities in the world.
Blade chose it as their insertion point for several reasons.
From his previous dealings with the reptilians who served the Lords of Kismet, Blade knew their masters controlled much of Southeast Asia. The mainland, definitely. Possibly Japan, as well, plus other island nations. It stood to reason, therefore, that the Lords of Kismet had set up some sort of administrative system, and if so, their control centers, logically, would be where population densities were greatest.
An almanac revealed that the largest cities were Bangkok, Ho Chi Minh City, or Saigon as it used to be called, and Yangoon, or Rangoon.
Blade picked Bangkok in part because it was centrally located. If they needed to penetrate deeper into the Lords’ domain, it was a good jumping-off point. Another factor was that a lot of Westerners had lived and traveled there prior to the war. Close to four hundred thousand, according to the intel. So it should be easier for three Caucasians to blend in than if they were inserted into, say, Ho Chi Minh City, where they would stand out like the proverbial sore thumbs.
All this went through Blade’s head as he entered the metal cage and stood in the center. Hickok and Yama came in and took up positions on either side.
Hickok chuckled and winked. “All set for some fun, gents?"
“Is that what you call a life-or-death crisis?” Yama said. “Fun?”
“It’s what I call kickin’ butt, Death Guy. And there’s nothin’ I like more.”
“I told you not to call me that.”
“Call you what, Death Guy?”
“Enough,” Blade said. He’d entertained the notion that without Geronimo along, Hickok would be more serious, and better behaved, than usual. He should have known better.
Over at a console, Tesla swiveled in his chair. “We’re ready to initiate the process. With your consent.”
Blade met Jenny’s gaze. Her face mirrored all the love in the world, and all the worry, too. He smiled, and nodded. “Start the countdown.”
“We’re rocketships now?” Hickok said. He waved at Sherry and Ringo. “Be seein’ you.”
Yama stood as impassive as a statue until his wife, Melissa, approached the bars and held her hand toward him, palm-out. Her lips moved soundlessly, mouthing the words, ‘I love you.’ Yama returned the gesture.
“There’s hope for you yet,” Hickok said.
“When I said enough,” Blade said, “I meant it.”
“Sorry, Big Guy.”
A.l.v.i.s began flitting from console to console, calling out as he went. “Green on station one. Green on station two. Green on station three. All systems are good to go.”
“Thank you,” Tesla said, and turned a dial.
“Thanatos didn’t go through all this rigmarole when he sent us into the ast,” Hickok mentioned. “I could take a nap in the time it’s takin’ them to zap us.”
“They can’t afford any mistakes,” Blade said.
“You mean we can’t,” Hickok amended. “They’ll still be here no matter what happens to us.”
“Do you always look at the bright side of things?” Yama said.
Blade looked down at the black leather vest he nearly always wore. Under it, barely able to fit, was the chest plate, their synchronous link, as Tesla referred to the device, to the time machine. No matter what, he must protect it with his life, for without it, they wouldn’t be able to return.
“Hold!” A.l.v.i.s suddenly chirped. “We have a red light at station two.” Flitting quickly, he tweaked controls with his metal fingers.
“Wouldn’t it be hilarious if they mess up and send us back to the Middle Ages or ancient Greece?” Hickok said.
“No,” Blade said.
“Better yet, the Old West. Yama had a point about meetin’ our heroes. I’d love to bump into the real James Butler Hickok.”
“I never said that the Lord of Kismet known as Yama is my hero,” Yama said.
“What is he, then?” Hickok asked.
“It could well be he is my nemesis.”
“Huh?”
“Green light restored at station two,” A.l.v.i.s let Tesla know. “We are again functional.”
Blade didn’t realize his mouth has gone dry until he tried to swallow. Butterflies were loose in his stomach, too. To take his mind off his unease, he adjusted the trap to the Commando slung over his shoulder, then rested his hand on the hilt of his right bowie.
