Sergeant Moore was not worried about what they would have to face out in the countryside as long as there were no more monstrous Skawps. He had his fill of fighting and killing those bastards long ago. Moore, at thirty-eight, was a career soldier even before the alien attack forced everyone to become career soldiers. And like all the rest, he’d lost family and friends and happily declined promotions just to stay in the field and kill the enemy. It was something he was very good at, but after five long years even his resolve was beginning to weaken. He was happy the end came when it did. He was nearing the breaking point; they all were. It was a sobering realization for a hardened lifetime soldier. These last few days of non-combat were like a tonic for him and his men, helping to give them new life, and a new commitment. They were ready now, to fight, to kill, and to do anything necessary to keep the living hell of the past five years from happening all over again. They were prepared and he had the utmost confidence in his men. Those, who survived to this point, were absolutely the best, but more importantly, they were the luckiest. Luck was a very important trait both in oneself and in the men around you. Being good only got you so far.
Sergeant Paul Sadao, his driver was quite possibly the finest soldier Moore had ever worked with and the best hand to hand combat man in the entire outfit, except for possibly Corporal Jefferies, who rode in the next hummer. But every man in the squad was just as deadly, and just as lucky. If the trip through the Door proved successful, he almost pitied the medieval men that would rise against them, and some would, of that he had no illusions. From firsthand experience he knew that human beings rarely rolled over without a fight…usually a good fight.
“Nothing so far,” Moore heard Captain Gardner report from above, “rough terrain ahead for you boys on the ground, though it appears to be worse to the northeast. It’s going to get bumpy.”
“Roger,” Moore said. They could live with a few bumps. “Stay overhead, ceiling your discretion.”
“Yes Sir,” Gardener answered, and began to circle higher and higher overhead.
“I now have visibility up to ten miles, no major structures of any kind; no sign of people at all...switching to infra-red. Nothing, no sign of life.”
On the ground the hummers were moving along at a surprisingly good clip, and only occasionally had to reroute to avoid troublesome rock formations or steep gullies. The Humvee could handle almost anything; it’s durability legendary. Occasionally they stirred up some indigenous wildlife, including a few deer which escaped Gardner’s overhead sweeps, and they’d only gone about five miles when they accidentally hit a rabbit.
“I see a road! I see a road!” Gardner yelled excitedly over the radio while the hummers were stopped. Moore insisted they retrieve the carcass of the rabbit, after all food was food and he was pretty sure grocery stores were now a thing of the past…or rather, the future.
“Tell us about it, Captain,” General Peebles ordered with dead calm, while others around him exploded with excitement.
“Yes Sir. Sorry Sir,” Gardner answered. “It’s more a wagon trail than a road really, two dirt ruts with a grassy hump in the middle, but it’s definitely a road of the times and not a game trail.”
“Holy shit,” someone behind Peebles said, but the General didn’t turn around to see who spoke. Surrounding the command table with the General were Colonel Lemay, Major Thane, Dr. Rice and Lee Robertson, but most of the camp was now crowded around the tent; those in the very back donned their helmets and monitored the broadcast through the built in radios.
“It’s located about four miles due south of Sergeant Moore’s last position. I’m at about two hundred feet and getting a good look now.”
“Captain, return to a safe altitude immediately, circle and wait for the Sergeant’s party to arrive at your position,” Peebles ordered.
“Yes Sir, climbing now,” Gardner replied though it took every ounce of his will power not to shoot off and follow the road. Instead he climbed higher still, circling his position and magnifying his surroundings as much as he dared.
“I have you,” Moore reported, finally spotting the Bot in the distance. “ETA six minutes...”
“Roger,” Gardner said still climbing. He spotted the reconnaissance group below and to the north and then he glanced back along the road that ran to the southwest. “Magnify ten times,” he ordered his helmet and the surrounding scene grew instantly closer.
“Mother of God...” he suddenly blurted. On his view screen he could make out a small group of low, squat buildings in the distance. “I’ve got buildings, maybe five miles...hold on…targeting,” he reported and began to aim a targeting laser the plane was equipped with to get an exact reading for artillery or rockets. A targeting laser was not standard equipment for a Bot, but they were added shortly before the cross over.
Behind the General, the mood grew apprehensive as the news began to sink in.
“We did it! We did it...we’ve really gone back in time,” he heard someone shout with a hoot of unabashed joy. The General felt his own knees go weak as his spirit soared, but outwardly he remained calm and in control.
“Target 5.3 miles southwest of my position,” Gardner said still very excited. “Request permission to fly over?”
“Negative,” Sergeant Moore said quickly and very firmly, before Pebbles could say anything. He smiled and glanced at Colonel Lemay, whose eyes were wide as the view of the buildings filled the monitor.
“Breathe Colonel,” Peebles said softly with a smile, jerking his number two man back to the camp.
“This is unreal,” he whispered so that only the General could hear. Peebles nodded.
“Captain Gardner calm down and remain in position,” the General added, knowing the rebuke would achieve the desired result, and it did. Gardner instantly took it for what it was and once again became a distant, cold professional observer of the surrounding terrain.
“Yes Sir!” Gardner replied immediately. “Target area is clear, no sign of any boogies. Sergeant Moore will arrive at my position in two minutes.
They all waited, marveling that two minutes could last so long, but finally the radio came to life.
“We’re in position on the road. It runs to the northeast as well as the southwest,” Moore reported back. “It’s crude but will help us to increase our speed. Heading southwest toward the target area; Captain, do you see anything?”
“Negative. No movement. No sign of life.”
“Roger moving out...speed passing thirty-five miles an hour...now forty.”
“Sergeant, can you see the target area?” Colonel Lemay suddenly asked.
“Negative.”
“Distance to target area 3.75 miles,” Gardner said. The entire camp was completely silent now.
“Sergeant, report when you have visual,” was all that Peebles said, and then they all waited tensely. As he waited with the others, the General forced himself to relax and loosen his grip on the side of the table. The excitement for the reconnaissance party must be nearly overwhelming he knew and was fiercely proud of their control.
“Visual sighting,” Moore finally said with just a trace of emotion.
“Target 1.22 miles,” Jefferies chimed in.
“Confirmed,” Sadao reported from his hummer, his laser sighting already set and ready. Sergeant Moore chided himself silently for not being as ready.
“Captain Gardner begin fly over of the target,” the Sergeant ordered and above the Bot shot toward the buildings. “Keep your current altitude Captain.”
“Roger,” Gardner replied and then the ultra-light was over the target area.
Sergeant Moore touched a button on the side of his helmet magnifying the surrounding area by twenty times in order to get a better look at the buildings. The view was unimpressive, three squat buildings built mostly of rock, mud and grass. One seemed to be partially collapsed, but still the Sergeant was left breathless; it may have worked. They could have gone back. Peebles switched views and came to the same conclusion.<
br />
“Target area clear, no sign of boogies,” Gardner reported, as he circled around for a second pass.
“Maintain visual,” Sergeant Moore responded. “All right let’s go,” he said and the hummers leaped forward, racing at the maximum safe speed, which in this case that was just over forty-five miles an hour. As they moved forward, the men manning the M60’s continuously adjusted their weapons to cover the approaching buildings. The two vehicles slowed approximately seventy yards from the nearest hovel, one moving off the road to the right, the other to the left, they stopped flanking the buildings perfectly. Two sides of all three buildings were visible from one vehicle or the other.
“Target area clear,” Gardner reported watching the progress of the men below.
“Move,” Sergeant Moore yelled, and eight men jumped quickly out of the safety of their vehicles and made for the south and north ends of the nearest shack. As they rushed forward, they were covered closely by the men manning the M60’s. The building was low only about five feet to the edge of the thatched roof, and there were no windows on the visible side. Sergeant Moore led his men in practiced movements toward the north end, while Sergeant Sadao covered the south. They were all in full battle gear, very alert, their adrenaline flowing. The position of every soldier in the squad now appeared in green on everyone’s face shield. As a safety precaution against friendly fire, no weapon linked into the system could fire while the crosshairs were aimed at a soldier in battle gear.
Sadao found a low wooden door on the south end and stopped his men on either side.
“Heartbeats,” he instructed his computer and with the help of very powerful directional microphones mounted to every weapon in the squad, the heartbeats of any potential enemies would appear on the screen of the face shield. Instantly, two strong heartbeats appeared on the screen. They were located in the far, partially collapsed building. The heartbeats were steady and unmoving. Sergeant Moore angled his squad across to the second building, but their attention was on the building with the heartbeats.
“Search,” he ordered Sadao and two men instantly moved into the first building, ducking to get through the small door.
“Night vision,” Corporal Hernandez whispered, and looked around expectantly.
The building was empty except for a crude counter of sorts that held a variety of strange tools, and a lopsided bench that looked like it was built by children. There were no people inside.
“Clear,” Hernandez reported and both he and Private Dosland were careful to go off of night vision before stepping out into daylight. Building two was just as empty of life, but was crammed from floor to ceiling with hay and cut grass. It had a strong musky, sweet smell. The heartbeats still registered in the third and were stationary.
“Target area clear,” Gardner said.
Both groups rejoined for a moment then split again as they reached the last building. Sadao and his team moved along the long north end of the building, while Moore and his team crept along the shorter eastern wall.
“Southern wall has a large open section,” Gardner said from above.
“Roger,” Moore replied and held his weapon out, looking around the corner with the M18’s built in video camera. Above Gardner now flew with only half of his virtual display, on the other half he ordered his computer to show him what Moore was seeing. Back at camp, everyone hooked up to the battle computer, did likewise. All they saw was an empty length of building. Moore turned the corner and headed toward the breech in the wall. He passed another small door, and left Killian to guard it, just in case. The heartbeats did not move as Sadao appeared around the corner on the far side of the breach. Everyone at camp was silent and breathless, just as if their own lives were in imminent danger. Again Moore held out his weapon and aimed his weapon into the building. Almost immediately his TVD was filled with the large, docile face of a cow. Everyone at camp laughed, but Moore did not, at least not until Sadao picked up the other heartbeat, a worn out mule. Everyone relaxed and headed out in front of the breach, both the cow and the mule watched them with obvious interest, and then mule even moved over and smelled Sadao.
“Clear,” Moore reported.
“Roger,” Peebles replied and the Sergeant could hear his smile through his helmet. “Human beings built these buildings Sergeant, and they stocked them. These animals are clearly domesticated and belong to someone. Let’s find out who owns them.”
“Roger,” Moore said and they began to move back toward the hummers.
“Oh God...Oh God,” Captain Gardner suddenly yelled from above. “I’ve got people,” he reported, and the squad below immediately broke into a sprint, running toward their vehicles. Sergeant Moore looked up and spotted the plane maybe a mile southwest of their present position and losing altitude rapidly.
“Captain, maintain your altitude and position,” Moore ordered just as he reached his seat. His driver immediately took off down the rut of a road. Captain Gardner did not respond at first as his Bot continued to fall from the sky, and a few seconds later the plane disappeared from view.
“Gardner, raise your altitude...” Moore yelled with equal excitement, as the hummers raced down the road. “We cannot see your position.”
“Roger...roger...maybe three miles to the southwest...flying over now...”
“Negative!” both Moore and Lemay yelled at the same time, but Peebles kept quiet, just listening, understanding exactly what the report meant...people. He looked up and found Major Thane staring back at him in rapture. On old Earth there were no people, save dead ones. They’d made it...somewhere at least.
“I...is it possible?” Robertson said in disbelief, though he’d built the damn thing that brought them here. It was entirely too much for even the knowing mind to comprehend, like walking through the gates of heaven, everyone wanted to believe, most said so, few truly did.
“...ying over...holy mother Mary! They’ve spotted me,” Gardner added, not purposefully ignoring the orders coming through his headset. He just wasn’t listening to them.
“Captain raise...”
“Women! I see women...two, maybe three of the contacts are wearing dresses...coming around...there are females here,” he confirmed and a great roar went up around the command tent.
“What are they doing?” Peebles asked. They were patched into Gardner’s helmet but the jerking motion of the plane and pilot’s head gave a distorted picture.
“Uh…running...and screaming,” Gardner admitted.
The hummers topped a rise and spotted Gardner’s plane, maybe two miles away and turning sharply.
“Magnify forty,” Moore said and his visor complied.
“Patch into Moore,” Peebles ordered and his screen immediately filled with the same thing Moore saw...people in the distance running, obviously for their lives.
“Captain, raise your altitude now,” Peebles said without shouting, though the order somehow came out that way, “before you give them all a heart attack.”
“Roger,” Gardner answered, finally hearing something other than his own heart hammering in his chest. As he pulled back on the stick he was surprised to find that he was sporting a powerful erection. His plane immediately began to climb, but his eyes were still on the people…the women, below.
“We’ve done it,” Dr. Rice said and his eyes sparkled with unbridled excitement. All around men were either cheering loudly, or standing silently in stunned disbelief. Two men fainted dead away and half a dozen others were throwing up, but even these men were happy beyond all imagining.
“We’ve done something,” Peebles answered.
“Women,” Matt said and felt a tug at his groin. He looked down and then up, smiling sheepishly at the others.
Peebles, an older man, just laughed at him, but felt the very same stirrings.
“Gardner climb higher and see if you can spot any possible destinations,” Sergeant Moore ordered calmly, bringing the command team back to the present situation. His vehicles were quickly closing in on the
position of the fleeing people, though everything was still hidden by a distant rise.
“Roger...climbing. The…targets are fleeing along the road to the south and west...climbing,” Gardner paused for a moment then continued. “Yes! I see it across a small creek, back in some timberland, a small town...walled and surrounded by cultivated fields. Hold on, getting a reading, 5.52 miles away.
“The people?” Peebles asked, though he could now see them in the distance through Moore’s face shield.
“Still running...”
“How far would you estimate the town is from camp?” Colonel Lemay asked.
“Not far, ten or twelve miles tops. I’ll get a more accurate reading on the return trip,” Gardner said now back to his normal, professional self.
“Return to base,” Peebles immediately cut in. “I say again, Captain, Sergeant, return to base.”
“Yes Sir,” Moore said and without another word both hummers slowed and turned back toward the northeast.
“Yes Sir,” Gardner said and everyone could hear the reluctance in his voice, but within moments he was directly over Moore and the rest of the team, circling and keeping watch. He landed thirty minutes later and was immediately surrounding by the excited camp.
“Sorry Sir,” Gardner immediately apologized and saluted as he approached the General.
“Nothing to be sorry for son,” Peebles answered, returning the salute. “It’s not every day someone confirms that they’ve just gone back in time.”
Once again they all dropped into silence as the enormity of the accomplishment hit them, and suddenly everyone was cheering again, and laughing and pounding Captain Gardner on the back as the hummers pulled into the midst of the happy crowd.
“We’ve done it then?” Moore asked excitedly as he climbed out of his seat.
Peebles, Lemay, Rice and Robertson all looked at each other. “It looks like we may have done it; if Robertson and his team are right we should be in England, sometime around 880.”
The Temporal Knights Page 5
