by James Palmer
The third flesh harvester slumped, its tentacles going limp and dangling useless at its sides.
Thinker lowered his staff and the glow subsided. “I looked in on Lady Vashta. She is to be executed within the hour. I’ve decided I have stayed in that cave quite long enough.”
Archer smiled, smacking the big man on the shoulder. Thinker scowled at him and said nothing. “That’s more like it,” said Archer. “So what’s the plan?”
Thinker arched a hairless eyebrow. “We continue with your plan. Hence the remaining Harvester. Although something else is needed.”
He lifted his staff once more, and there was a great rumbling throughout the jungle. The ground began to shake. A moment later, Archer and the villagers were astonished to see the great beasts of Venus responding to Thinker’s whim, emerging from the trees. Things that would have been enemies of man at any other time were joining their army. Sky beasts winged overhead, blotting out the sun, and huge land creatures lumbered into the clearing, their thick scaly hides covered in chitinous armor and crested with lethal-looking spikes. Other humans appeared, spears and other weapons in hand, all staring at Thinker.
Archer appraised everything. Just a few days ago, this would have seemed incomprehensible and frightening. But now…”Well,” he said. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves an army. Now let’s do something with it. To Cadmium!”
Chapter Twelve
The Battle of Cadmium
Archer knelt in the dark, hot confined space of the remaining flesh harvester’s hopper with Voro and three other men as it made its way back toward the city of Cadmium. The second hopper was similarly loaded, and the others road their beasts of burden through the jungle behind it, lead by Venn Sann. Sky beasts wheeled overhead like vultures waiting for their prey to die.
Archer wondered what the masters of the city would think of one lone harvester returning instead of the three that had gone out, but Voro assured him it wasn’t rare for one of the larger jungle behemoths to fell one of the sinister machines as it went about its obscene duties. There would then be no reason for the harvester’s masters to think anything was amiss. Until it was too late for them to do anything about it.
Archer had to contort his body uncomfortably in the hot confines of the hopper, his body beaded with sweat and twinging with nervous energy, adrenaline even now coursing through his veins. His only weapon was a small stone knife Voro had given him, which he intended to trade up for a stun wand or blaster as soon as he could get his hands around one of the more lethal implements. He didn’t know how things would turn out, or even if his haphazard little army would be successful, but he knew one thing for certain: the wealthy elite of Cadmium, and their cruel masters the Overmen, would know they had been in the fight of their lives.
Just as the small, dark hopper was becoming unbearably hot, the thrashing sounds of jungle fronds slapping against the belly of the machine gave way to grass crunching beneath its metal feet. They had reached the outskirts of the city where the harvesters came and went. Archer rose up and pushed against the hopper’s lid, propping it up just a bit. Before falling back down, he caught a faint glimpse of the city behind its dome, and a large portal yawning open for the harvester to enter.
“It won’t be long now,” Archer told Voro and the men. “Be ready to strike. The hoppers will tip and tumble us out. Hold on tightly to your weapons.”
After another full minute the hopper did just as Archer predicted, and he felt the pull and tug of bodies and gravity upon him as they were dumped out on a cold stone floor. Everyone acted quickly before the startled guards could register that their latest catch was heavily armed.
Voro leaped up first, ramming his flint knife beneath a guardsman’s left shoulder, between his breast and back plate. Archer smashed a waving stun stick out of another guard’s hand, then kicked him in the stomach. A hay maker finished him off, and Archer was on top of him, removing his breastplate and blaster. When he had donned the guard’s armor and weapon, he looked up to see the other guards had all been felled.
“Good work,” he said. “I think the slave quarters are that way.” He pointed down one corridor. “The kennels for the fighting pits are that way. Go!”
The other men, almost a dozen in all, nodded to Archer before hurrying off in every direction, vanishing into portals Archer hadn’t even noticed during his first visit to this level of the city. Voro clasped his shoulder and smiled before venturing off.
Archer wiggled in the armor. It wasn’t a perfect fit, but it was light, and very strong. And with any luck, he might even be mistaken for one of their own, which could buy him a few seconds. He looked around. He needed to get to street level, but didn’t know how from this area. He now regretted throwing away his talking disk after his escape from the city. His eyes caught a glimpse of something, and he looked down at his feet. It was a sword. The captain of the guards must have been present, and dropped it as he fell to the jungle men. Archer grinned, picking it up. It was thin and well-balanced, light but wickedly sharp, composed of the same material as the armor. Archer twirled it in his left hand. Then he stared through an opening and saw a staircase going up. He took the narrow stairs two at a time.
He was panting when he reached another level. Doorways opened up to his left and right. Somewhere above him an alarm sounded, far away yet insistent. Their presence was known.
A guard careened onto the landing from the right opening, looking as surprised as Archer was. Archer lunged with the sword, impaling him in the stomach, the sword’s tip going straight through the softer plate material there. The guard doubled over, his face a rictus of agony, his hands grasping the blade.
Another guard hove into view from the left, stopping dead in his tracks at the gruesome scene before him. He went for his blaster almost immediately, but Archer had already unholstered his weapon, pulling the trigger and sending a searing beam of energy directly into the man’s face. The guard tumbled to the ground, his face and head a smoking ruin.
Archer dislodged his sword and fired another energy beam into the first guard, his armor melting as he fell to the floor near his brother in arms.
Archer ran toward the right opening then, more to get away from the carnage he had just unleashed than regard for whether or not it was the right direction. He still didn’t think he was on street level, but he was getting close; the alarm was louder and he could hear the shouting of people and feel the vibrations of many booted feet running in all directions. He found another staircase leading up and took it, sword and blaster held at the ready.
“I’m coming, my lady,” he muttered to himself as he went.
He encountered a large group of guardsmen, but they were already too busy fighting off the newly empowered jungle people to worry about him, and he made it into bright daylight unmolested. The street was empty and quiet, save for the alarm, which was at its loudest out here in the open. But why was it deserted?
“The execution!” he said, looking around frantically. He stepped out into the street, looking around to get his bearings. He found the white tower where he had spent so much time with Lady Vashta, then reckoned from there.
“The fighting pits are that way,” he said, pointing. As his eyes followed a line of buildings, he saw what he was looking for. Down a slight hill was a mass of people. And at its center, chained to a set of ornate pylons, was Lady Vashta.
The sky grew dark, and for a second Archer thought it must be time for the dome to imitate the night cycle of Earth, or that he was about to witness an actual Venusian sunset. But it wasn’t. The sky outside the dome was filling with sky beasts, the huge pterosaur things that would haunt the skies of Archer’s dreams for the rest of his days. Majestic and terrible, they swarmed like carrion birds and made to strike.
This was it, Venn Sann’s promised diversion. Archer just hoped he wasn’t too late. Already tired and sweating from the incredible heat, Jason Archer broke into a run.
As he neared the crowded square, Archer heard a muf
fled crack as of thunder. He looked up toward the west to see one of the sky beasts had just rammed the dome with its powerful beak. It bounced off and circled around for another attempt, while one of its brothers struck the exact same spot. Archer watched for a moment as several of the beasts struck various spots along the dome systematically. Archer grinned and kept running, sweat stinging his eyes.
Seeing the sky beasts attacking the dome, many in the crowded square turned and fled, seeking the relative safety offered indoors. This left only a small group of Overmen and their guards surrounding Lady Vashta, as a man in black robes shouted something inaudible under the thunder crack of the pummeled domes. They didn’t notice Archer until it was too late. He fired his blaster at a line of guards, felling them where they stood before climbing the stone steps to the raised dais where Lady Vashta was to be publicly executed. She looked down at him through tear-streaked eyes, her beautiful face limned in late afternoon sunlight.
“It’s about time,” she said, smiling.
“Sorry,” said Archer. “Traffic was murder.” He cut Vashta’s bonds with his sword, then leveled his blaster at the man in black, who looked like some important officiate. “Stand down, or the first person to die up here will be you.”
Guards swarmed them, but Lady Vashta was ready. She took Archer’s sword and swiped at a man’s throat in a killing arc that nearly severed his head from his body. Her next blow relieved another guard of the burden of his right hand and blaster.
As the man in black cowered before Archer, three Overmen hovered into view, their rods in their hands. Archer’s body was enveloped in golden light, and he found he could no longer move. Lady Vashta was similarly restrained.
“That will be quite enough,” one of them intoned. “You have caused us much trouble, Earth man. Perhaps the jungles of Venus were not a stiff enough punishment.”
Archer must have looked surprised, for the Overman continued. “Oh yes. We know all about you. Vashta told us everything. Our associates in your time will be severely reprimanded for their carelessness. As for you…”
A section of dome nearby shattered, raining down huge spun diamond shards that fell and cracked the dais. A long jagged piece struck one of the Overmen, shearing him in two as the rods of the other two were suddenly ripped from their hands and dashed against the stones at their feet.
The Overmen looked up in shock as a sky beast entered the huge hole it had made in the dome. On its back rode Venn Sann the Thinker. When he was directly overhead, he leaped from the winged behemoth and floated gently to the platform next to Archer and Lady Vashta. Brandishing his staff, Thinker caused a yellow bubble to envelope around the Overmen. Archer found he could move again.
“Your reign is at an end, brothers,” said Thinker. “We are humanity’s stewards, not their masters.”
“You are still outnumbered, brother,” one of the Overmen said. “There are other cities on Venus.”
“They will fall in time,” said Venn Sann. “There will be no more bloodshed in Cadmium this day. The time of healing is at hand.”
He turned toward archer, clasping a powerful hand on his shoulder. “The battle is won, thanks to you. The war will be won in due time.”
What occurred next happened so fast that Archer scarcely had time to register it before it was over and done with. Vashta dropped the sword and came toward Thinker, embracing him. “Thank you,” she said. Then, from somewhere, another Overman lunged into view, cylinder in his hand, pointed directly at Archer. “I banish you for all time!” he yelled.
Archer felt rather than heard the beam coming for him, a beam that would either disintegrate him or send him backward or even forward in time, where or when he knew not. But before it struck, Vashta was there in front of him. Archer watched helplessly as she was enveloped in yellow light and disappeared.
“No!” Archer screamed, aiming the blaster at the Overman. A burning beam lanced through the immortal, felling him. He tumbled backward down the dais and was seen no more.
“Vashta!” Archer screamed, turning to Thinker. “Where is she? I couldn’t have come this far only to lose her again.”
“So it was her you desired, not your freedom,” said Venn Sann. “Not to return home.”
“Yes,” said Archer. “I mean, sure, I want to go home, but I would gladly live out the rest of my days by her side.” He almost gasped at this, surprised at his own revelation. He had never been one to get involved in someone else’s problems, never pick a side in any war. Until that long ago night when Vashta had wandered into his life he had never wanted to stick his neck out for anyone.
“Perhaps you can have both,” said Thinker. “We have no more need of you here, Earth man. Your place is back there, in your own time. With her.”
He gestured with his staff, and the Overman’s cylinder lifted into the air and floated into his grasp.
“But what of the war?”
Venn Sann shrugged. “It will be won eventually. As all wars are, for good or ill. Look around you.”
Archer circled the area with his gaze. All around him the people of Cadmium were rising up against their former masters. House servants joined the jungle men in the streets, beating down the Overmen and their elite brethren. Golden-armored bodies fell from nearby towers, and chunks of dome fell into the streets.
“Now let me see if I have this right.”
The Thinker hefted the cylinder in his large hands, aiming it at Archer and touching a stud along its length. The thing vibrated, and Archer was surrounded by golden light. He felt himself being pushed, and everything seemed like it was moving away from him at tremendous speed…
Chapter Thirteen
Homecoming
When the light dissipated, it was night; true night, not the ersatz dark of the dome. The oppressive heat and humidity were replaced by a cool wind, and stale cigarettes and jazz greeted his senses like an old friend. He knew instantly he was home.
A scuffling sound drew Archer’s attention to his left. Lady Vashta, wearing modern Earth clothing, was struggling with the remaining Overman. The first being still lay in a heap at the front of the alley. Archer’s mind caught up fully to what his senses were telling it. He had returned to his own time and place scant seconds after he left.
He lunged toward the scuffling figures, pulling them apart and dealing the Overman a deadly blow to the chin that sent him sprawling. Something dropped from the being’s coat and rolled some distance away, and Archer knew it must be the Overman’s cylinder. The Overman grappled with him now, only it wasn’t the same Archer his associate had fought, but one hardened by time and torment on the future Venus, an Archer who knew who and what the Overmen were and what they were capable of. This new Archer fought like a caged animal who was tired of being poked and prodded. Despite his fatigue from his exertions on Venus Archer battled with a renewed vigor. He growled angrily like a jungle cat as he beat the Overman back against the wall of the adjoining building, never giving his foe an inch. The Overman was bigger, smarter, but accustomed to using technology and fear to control Archer’s kind. Now he had neither advantage as Archer pummeled him senseless.
Archer delivered once last blow, and the Overman’s large head smacked wetly against the brick wall before he slumped to the ground.
Archer looked down at him, panting, adrenaline shaking through him. He looked down at his hands to find them still balled into tight fists, and unclenched his fingers as Vashta came up beside him.
“I have been here these last six months spying on the Overmen,” she said. “They are attempting to establish a kind of beachhead here in your time. They have contacts within your government. Scientists, federal law enforcement. They are giving away small pieces of their technology in return for political favor. A shadow government is forming. When I got too close they recognized me, and I had to run. When I ventured into that club and saw you…”
She looked at him, and Archer returned her gaze. He knew what happened next. He had been sent into her past,
before they knew each other, while she had been shunted into his. It all made a crazy yet neat circle. Everything made sense now.
Archer placed his arm around her. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. Are you?”
Archer nodded.
“Did we win?”
“Yes. Thinker assured me that Cadmium would fall, as well as the other cities on Venus.”
“A wave of revolution will flow through the domed cities,” said Vashta, nodding. “Soon all will be free of the yoke of the Overmen.”
Archer removed his arm from her shoulder, waved it around at the bodies in the alley. “What of the ones here, in my time?”
Vashta shrugged. “Let me worry about them. If they return to Venus of my time, they will be arrested. If they remain here, they will be eternally cut off from getting supplies from the future. They will be outnumbered by the people of your world and will be routed. As for these…” Vashta gestured to the bodies lying in the alley. She picked up the last Overman’s cylinder where it had fallen and pointed it at the first one Archer had killed before he was projected into the future. An envelope of yellow energy surrounded him and he disappeared, followed closely by his companions. “They have been returned to our own time. That should send a very clear message to the Overmen of Venus.”
“Still, I suppose someone should keep an eye on them. At least until you’ve got things under control in the year fifteen thousand whatever.”
Vashta looked at the ground sadly. “I suppose.”
Archer went to the cylinder the Overman had dropped and picked it up.
“You could come back with me. I will still need a champion.”
“No you don’t. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever known. Besides. I don’t belong there anymore than you belong here.”
