by Chris Lowry
“Are you going to bed yet?” he asked the Doctor.
“I’ll be researching for a while.”
Bruce stretched out on the bunk.
“You mind if I take a nap,” he closed his eyes and didn’t wait for a response.
28
“When I was younger, I skipped all my history classes,” Robe said, looking downcast. “All I know is how to fight.”
“Who taught you that?” the Templar asked.
“Bram mostly. Darren, some others. The Computer generates models and we fight the plausibility.”
“How do you learn from that?”
“The Suits have memory chips. They encode the data and react accordingly when a situation occurs. That’s why we had so much trouble with you. We’ve never encountered your actions before, so we couldn’t react. Our Suits went blank.”
“You couldn’t think for yourself.”
“Well, sure, if we expected it. But you’re not the typical Mob crowd we get in trouble with. I mean, every move you made was something new. But we can’t expect that again. The Main Terminal will have studied your vids and analyzed them. We won’t be lucky once they download your files. All the Suits will know how to beat you.”
“Beat me. A Suit?”
“Our best bet is to lay low. Pip, you were good in history, weren’t you?”
“When I went to class,” her voice was soft and sleepy from the backseat.
“You tell him then.”
“What does he want to know?”
“I don’t know. Where should we start, Sir?”
The Templar shook his head.
“I didn’t know the history of my own world. I didn’t listen to their talks. The people would gather around the fire and talk about the world, now and as it was. I didn’t care for any of that. All the words didn’t feed you, or take away the pain of a wound. What good was that? Eleven told me I would need it someday, but,” he looked out of the canopy at the landscape zipping underneath them. “I was right. What good would my history do here?”
“I probably know more about your time than you do, then,” said Pip.
“I know my time. Tell me this one,” said the Templar.
“Easy. You’re on the West Coast of the American Continent. We kept the name from a long time ago, though for years councils have wanted to change it to something else, saying it harks back to nationalistic days. This is the City, and they argue about naming it too, but what the Hell for, it’s the only one on this Coast. You got your villages scattered up and down the seashore, but not many because of bandits and groups of the Mob roaming. And no one goes In-country anymore. We used to send excursions every now and then, but the fallout was too much.”
“Fall out? When were nukes employed?” the Templar asked.
“In the First Computer War. You ought to know, it was you guys that fought against it.”
“Computers? They were legends. No one had found one in my time.”
“Someone found one,” Robe said. “They worked on it in private for years. They found it in the interior, some huge underground building full of them.”
The other two watched him in awe.
“I thought you didn’t know history,” said the Templar.
Robe blushed.
“I went to a class or two and I didn’t sleep. This was warfare, the good stuff. Do you want to hear this or not?”
They nodded.
“A group of scientists rediscovered the computers in an underground warehouse. But they wanted to study them first, know all about the technology. Only they didn’t let anyone know what they found. They tried to keep it a big secret, but word leaked out. Everyone wanted them to share their new power, but they transferred the information to the East Coast and here. That really made some people mad, and some how they got a nuke and wiped out the warehouse. But they didn’t think about what would happen to the rest of the world. It was your run of the mill nuclear holocaust, nothing to big, but enough to notice. No one can live In country since then, and no one survived that we know of. All of your people were sieging the bunker when the bomb hit. I don’t think any of them made it.”
Robe and Pip looked at the Templar sadly. He shrugged.
“I don’t feel the loss. My men were killed on a hill in a village, away from all of that. Any other Templars I wouldn’t have known.”
“Yeah, but you were all buddies, right. All for one and death to all, right?” asked Pip.
“What is that?”
“Your motto,” she leaned up, resting her young head against the side of his cushioned seat. “All you guys were one big family. Like the Troops.”
“No,” he said. “I only knew the men I walked with. We kept to ourselves, there was more than enough country for us all.”
He looked out of the window at the city below. The ground looked alive with the flowing mass of humanity that swarmed between the buildings.
“Why don’t these people leave? The Mob?”
Pip sat back, disgusted.
“They’re just animals,” explained Robe. “They don’t really think to leave. They just multiply like rats and infest the City. We can’t clean them out, they’re too many of them. So we hold them off.”
“Where did they come from?”
“Who knows? We used to send boats on the oceans before the Corsairs got too thick. And no matter how clean you scrub a boat, rats always get on them.”
“You were a sailor?” the Templar asked dubiously.
“No, well, I studied it. One of the Troopers had a vid of an island in the middle of the Ocean and I always wanted to see one. So I studied the sea when I was a kid. But we don’t use boats anymore. Long journey hover cars will carry us across the water and if you visit an island, there’s too much risk.”
“No one goes to the islands?”
“Not anymore. Never know when a Corsair boat will jump you. Or if that’s their base, it’s like sticking your hand out the window after dark. Mob’ll get you.”
“But there is no Mob on the islands?”
“No, I mean, here, if you stick your hand out of a window, the Mob will probably drag you out and eat you or whatever they do. That’s why we don’t open windows, not even during the day. What if you forgot to close it? That’s the end of you. Better safe behind the plas steel.”
The Templar leaned against the canopy.
“I’ve got an idea, once we see the Doctor.”
“I’m taking us to the Academy at sunrise. But that doesn’t mean we’ll find him. He could be anywhere, we’re just guessing.”
“Do your best,” the Templar looked out of the window. Behind him, the girl made sleep noises as she curled across the seat. Robe’s young face was drawn and tired, his eyes circled with black bags. He watched the boy steer the car for a few moments.
“Do you wish to rest?” he tried to ask as gently as possible, though to his own ears, his voice was harsh.
Robe was too tired to catch it.
“I have to fly the car.”
“I can do it. I have observed you.”
Robe looked at him wishfully.
“No, sir, I’ll do it. I can last until we get to morning.”
The Templar nodded, quietly proud the youth had chosen to remain at the wheel. He would not sleep either, but only because he could go for hours longer without it. Soon, he would need a rest of a few days to make up for his lack its past week. He could only push his body so far, it had abandoned him on several occasions since he got here. He kept giving it just enough rest to go on, and pushed it until it stopped. Even the two days as prisoner was not enough. He needed a week of no thinking, no fighting, no planning. And in his head was an old campfire history lesson he overheard by accident. A story about seven castaways on a tropical isle, that no one ever seemed to find. A perfect place to rest. A perfect place to hide.
29
Bruce woke with a start, not knowing where he was. Noises he couldn’t recognize or place, seeped under the door and filled
the room with ghost sounds. Memory failed him for a few moments and panic set in, he backed into the wall and whimpered. This wasn’t his room, this wasn’t his bed. After a few seconds of feeling sorry for himself, and wondering what sort of bizarre atrocities were in store for him in this strange place, he remembered this was Darwin’s room at Troop HQ. There was the Doctor, tilted back in a chair with his head drooping over a book folded on his chest, feet propped up on the table. The Doctor didn’t so much snore as mutter when he slept. Every deep breath would make anyone watching anticipate a snort or snuff. None of that, just a long slow inhalation, followed by muttered tangents and breathy hypotheses, arguments with figments that the Doctor dreamed about.
Bruce recovered his composure and shook him awake.
“Doc, its morning.”
Darwin opened one eye and glared at Bruce.
“I was sleeping,” he told his assistant.
“Yes sir, but its morning and I thought-”
“Do you know how long it took for me to fall asleep in this chair? I stayed up half the night, and finally when I hit good REM you shake me out of it. I swear you young people. I hope I’m still around when you’re my age, I’m going to call you every time I get up to go to the bathroom, and you’ll never get a good night’s rest.”
“Sorry Doc. I thought you wanted to get an early start on this morning.”
“You haven’t even showered yet. You could have at least let me sleep through that.”
The showers. Men marching back and forth to the bathroom, random pieces of conversation and singing. Those were the strange noises finding their way into the Doctor’s quarters.
“I can’t shower here,” Bruce gagged.
Memories of his first athletic contest at school and the humiliation of losing washed over him. Afterwards, he was forced into the showers by an overzealous athletic coordinator, and humiliated even further by his classmates. The taste of soap, stinging and bitter crept up his throat. He swore off public showers and group athletic endeavors that day. He wasn’t about to start here.
“What do you mean? They’re not co-ed showers,” Darwin unfolded himself from his chair and grabbed a towel from the dispenser. “I need you fresh for today, boy.”
“I’ll shower at the Academy,” Bruce tugged at his wrinkled shirt. “I want some new clothes anyway.”
Darwin turned on his heel and left. For once, he didn’t feel like arguing. Psychologists would have a field day with Bruce, and he gave up that field long ago. Better to let him have his way on this. It conserved energy.
The hall was full of young men and women, some in Suits, some in underclothes with dry towels on their shoulders. During the day, Headquarters resembled the Academy, so much so, Darwin could close his eyes and listen to the footsteps and muttered voices and not know the difference.
“Morning, Doctor,” Bram fell in beside him, matching him step for step. “Good morning,” Darwin knew the Second. He heard even more rumor about him and wondered how much of it was true. He had the distinct feeling that Bram didn’t care for him, or for any scholar for that matter. Their theories had little practical application to the real world, or so the argument went. Darwin made a mental note to write an article regarding perceptions and how theories really worked for everyone.
“We haven’t found the prisoner yet,” Bram offered. Darwin could feel he was fishing.
“You must be able to read my mind,” he laughed. “I was just about to ask.”
“Commander called off the search for now. She’s changing squads, bringing in fresh men. We’ll start again just before noon.”
“Any idea where they might be?”
“Ideas only. We were going to ask you what he would do, you being the expert.”
“On him, no. On his Order, yes. They were men of honor. He is reacting against a system he finds to be tyrannical. He has no way of knowing we’re anything but. Must I keep reminding you that every time we reach out to him, we try to counter it with a fight?”
“That’s not what the Computer said,” Bram countered. “It can’t make too much on him, but from studying the vids, it thinks he’s dangerous, more dangerous than anything we’ve ever encountered. The Council believes that too.”
“The Council is not infallible. Even the Computer is Artificial Intelligence. Intelligent, but artificial. It cannot trust its instincts, it cannot know every possible contingency, because it’s only following a program. A program made by a man, with man’s mistakes and prejudices.”
Bram rounded on the Doctor.
“I think you’re wrong. You saw the man in action. He is dangerous. The Suits don’t faze him. Our weapons can barely stop him. He’s faster than anything we’ve seen, more adaptable than our chameleon Troops. You have to help us capture him, or kill him. He could tear apart the fabric of our existence.”
Darwin leaned against the door going into the bathroom Several Troopers had stopped in the hall to listen to the exchange. Many of them had been ordered to revelry this morning and knew that meant they were on a hunt squad for one of their own and the escaped prisoner. Many of them had mixed feelings about it.
“For an educated man,” Darwin ignored the gathering crowd. “You are very ignorant. We have no fabric of existence. We are prisoners of the Mob, and servants of the Main Terminal. What can this one man do? The Mob is too much for him, and the vast resources at the disposal of the Council surely can stop him. What if he is impervious to a few of our weapons? You have as much as told me that the Computer is building more. That’s what it does. I will not help you find this man. I will not help you kill him. You have the Computer and your Commander and your misplaced set of values. I invited this man to this world to make it a better place. I kidnapped him from his home and no one has given me a chance to talk to him about it, or apologize. All we do is kill or capture. I am glad he is gone, and I hope he finds a place to hide so that he will never be found. If anyone can do it, he can.”
“That’s almost treason,” Bram warned him.
“I am an old man with a long history of service to the community, longer even than you’ve been born. Take your charges and put them in the Computer against my list of accomplishments and accolades. It won’t compute and the Main Terminal will clear me. You can do nothing.”
Darwin turned into the bathroom door, letting it close behind him. Bram reached through and grabbed him by the neck, squeezing.
“I am the Second. You don’t talk to me with that disrespect.”
Darwin reached back through the years to his induction training. He held his breath, grabbed the wrist at his neck and twisted. Bram gasped in surprise and followed the turn, flipping over onto the cold floor. The entire hallway gasped in surprise.
“Don’t tamper with what you do not know,” Darwin warned.
He let go and the door closed between them.
30
“What are you doing?” Robe’s voice hissed in the morning silence of the quad.
The hover car was hidden in the cover of bushes in the open air solarium, where they parked and sneaked through the early morning sunlight to camp in the greenhouse.
Pip complained about the backseat being too cramped, wanting to stretch her legs and the Templar agreed. The dark circles under Robe’s eyes attested to the limits he had pushed himself and his body was sluggish, more so than normal.
The Templar knew they would need to rest before searching out the Doctor and suggested the place as they flew over it, noting the lush vegetation that would hide them from flying prying eyes. He also suspected the plants would hold in the heat, and the chill morning air would wear on his companions. He chose the site for their comfort and safety, relying on them to get him clear of the City later. He let them settle in under the broad leaves of a plant he had never seen, noting with exasperation that field experience was limited. He helped as best as patience would allow, hoping for little more than an hour of quiet. They seemed to sleep, until Robe tried to call to everyone on campus with his q
uestion.
“They’re push-ups,” he answered in a low voice so Robe would follow the example.
He did.
“What are they for?”
The Templar paused in mid push, flexing and tensing the muscles in his chest.
“They make me stronger.”
“I’ve never seen anything like that.”
The Templar laughed, a deep growl from the pit of his stomach. It was the first time since he was pulled through the time hole.
“I suspect there is much I do your people will not know about,” he resumed his exercise. “Maybe that’s why I always win over you.”
Robe pondered this as he watched the Templar.
After a few moments of push-ups, he flipped over to his back and started trying to sit up. But at the top, he seemed to lose control and fall back, only to try again. Robe extended his hand to him.
“Let me help you.”
“What?”
“I can help you get up.”
“No,” the Templar laughed again, still sitting up. “It’s called calisthenics. My squad was required to do them every morning. A few of us did them morning and evening. It strengthens you.”
“I’m strong,” Robe defended.
“Then try it with me.”
“We were taught not to do physical labor. We develop our minds, so we can program the Computers to do our work.”
“But we have no computer.”
“On board the car, and in our Suits we do.”
“But they can use those to track us.”
“Oh, yeah.”
Pip stirred.
“You are making a lot of noise. How am I supposed to sleep?”
“Hey Pip, watch what he’s doing. It makes him stronger.”
She rolled over on her side and squinted with one eye.
“They used to do that in school, but now, just the Athletes do it.”
The Templar stopped his sit ups and moved into stretches.
“What are athletes?”
