"But..." began Beyett.
Lecia struck her rifle stock gently into his flank so that he stopped. He looked at her in surprise, but knew why she had done it. He understood better than any of them the uncertainties of their situation, and yet Lecia realised they needed to have something to believe in.
"Honestly tell me that if the war back in our time had suddenly been over, you would have anything to go back to. Any of you?"
Nobody said a word.
"No, this might as well be the same war for us. We have a chance to make a difference, just as we did before. Let's not fail a second time."
"Fail? How the hell were we to know the crazy fool was building a time machine? It's insane," added Nylund.
"We are soldiers. The reasons we succeed don't matter at all, only that we do. However we handled things back in our time it led to a failure. The only saving grace is that we few were saved. We know the truth, and we are the only ones who know it for sure. Not even the Captain here can yet wrap his head around it and say he believes it with a straight face."
"Wait a..." began Hotwell.
"No, no," insisted Corwin, "I know how you think of this, and I respect you for it. You have taken it far better than I ever could have. The truth is that we few, a dozen fighters, we are what can make a difference in this war. It shouldn't have gone that way, but it has. I am here to tell you all, we are now here to ensure the Allies win, as the history books said they would. It's not going to play out the same, but there is nothing we can do about that. We can't concern ourselves with the effects of changing the timeline. That ship has sailed."
"So you are in this till the end? Until we bring an end to Hitler and fascism?" Hotwell asked.
Corwin looked around to his team to see what they thought. Just ten of them remained free and on their feet. It seemed like a monumental task lay before them.
"This world and this life, it's ours now, just as much as anyone else's."
"But can it be done?" Vi asked.
"What?"
"Can this war be won? I get that it was the first time around. But you know how much has changed. Seems like this has already gone too far."
"And that's a reason to give up?" Harland asked scornfully.
"She's a girl..." added Porter.
"And a dyke at that," replied Harland.
"She isn't in this for the real fight, just to play a few games and act all tough so she can impress the light headed ditzy bitches."
"Good luck finding those around here," he replied, looking around the bleak site.
Vi rushed towards Porter in anger, and nobody stood in her way. She leapt onto him so that he was driven to the floor on his back, with her on top. She punched him twice to the face, but he turned her over and returned the favour.
"Are you going to let this continue?" Hotwell demanded, horrified by their behaviour.
"This is how we do things. No room for weakness."
"Is it weakness to stand up for your friends?"
"Friends?" asked Corwin, "They are my family, and I don't take sides, no matter how much an idiot one is being."
"Then you are a fool." He hobbled forward and grabbed Porter’s jacket and tried to haul him off. He felt the tugging and lashed out with a backhand strike that knocked Hotwell onto his back as his crutches fell around him. Porter saw the shock in the others’ faces. But Vi took it as the opportunity it was. She struck him with a hook to the jaw and threw him off her. As he landed on his back, she smashed her elbow down onto his nose, and it exploded so that blood spewed out across his face.
"You bitch!" he yelled.
He reached to strike her but felt himself locked in place. Rane was holding onto both of them. He hauled them to their feet and held them out of each other's distance.
"What is wrong with you?" he asked.
Both of them struggled, but they were helpless in his vice like grip. Corwin and Beyett rushed to Hotwell's side and helped him to his feet. He wasn't injured, only a little shocked. All of them looked to the Captain now.
"You are the strongest and most gifted people in the world, and yet you cannot overcome simple quarrels, what hope is there?" he asked them.
He straightened his uniform and took his crutches from them so that he could support his own weight before continuing.
"I took a leap of faith with you all. I chose to believe in you, just as I believe in our success in this war. Don't make me doubt that, for you will tread on my dreams."
He hobbled off on his crutches. The others just stared at each other as the rain continued to beat down on them. Finally, Beyett broke the silence.
"He's right, you know. We can't be divided in this. We face the greatest challenge of all our lives, and so much is dependent on us now."
"Divided? We are already divided. We have one cripple and one locked up for life," replied Vi.
Beyett nodded in agreement. "But here and now, ten of us fit and capable, is that not enough?"
"Until it becomes nine, eight, until we are each killed or locked up?"
"We have to get Tano out," stated Lecia.
"What? How?"
"You said we are stronger together, and we are, so we have to find a way."
"He burnt his bridges. There is nothing more we can do for him," Corwin said firmly.
"So that is it? One of us makes a mistake and they are gone? That's not the way we used to work. Every one of this team used to be more important to us than anyone else on Earth, has that changed?"
Corwin looked to Beyett for help, but he seemed to side with her.
"He tried to kill one of the leaders of the free world, you do get that, right? That's a little more than a mistake. It's fucking crazy. I don't even know what to think of that psycho anymore. He turned a gun on an ally at the most crucial of moments. How can we ever trust him again?"
"Because he did it for the right reasons," Beyett said quietly, "Because he isn't evil, he is just misguided. More than that, though, he is one of the twelve. We are not able to find any others like us, so we cannot afford to lose a single one. He is also smart, far smarter than most of you realise. No, he doesn't always show it, but his mind is as sharp as mine. We need to understand him, and we need to use him."
"You’re right, but I need to think about this. It won't be easy. Enough for now, get some rest, and we'll talk about this again," Corwin said.
The tension seeped away as they split up and went for the barrack room allocated to them. Corwin headed for the officers’ quarters and stepped into what was a modest accommodation. It seemed luxurious after the many nights he had slept rough in wartime. He took his gear off and collapsed on the sprung bed with his fatigues still on. Seconds later the door swung open, and Lecia stood in the entrance, waiting for him to say something. He just nodded and that was enough. She threw her gear to the ground and collapsed beside him on the flimsy single bed.
"This is fucked up, you know that, right?"
"Yeah," he replied wearily.
"More than fucked up, it's a complete disaster."
"So what do you want me to do?"
She turned her head sharply and looked at him with wide eyes as if shocked, but it was a little playful. "I don't want you to do anything."
He knew that wasn't the case.
"You think getting Tano back will make all the difference?"
She thought about it and finally nodded.
"Why?"
"Because we were strong together, and we can be strong again. Stronger than we ever were, Wyatt."
"But we aren't some rogue unit operating on our own in the wild anymore. We are part of a chain of command, part of some great machine."
"Then you’ll have to find a way to work that machine to our advantage."
That gave him reason to pause and think.
"It'll take some miracle to get Tano free."
"Then work a miracle," she replied. She turned and kissed him, pulling him in close.
CHAPTER 3
The Luckers w
ere sitting in a country pub, both relaxed and bored. They sipped dark beer from jam jars as dozens of soldiers from the training camp made merry around them.
"See the name of this place, The White House?" Rane asked, sniggering to himself.
"I am sure there were white house's called the White House before our one," Vi replied with a groan.
"You're a dense idiot," said Porter with malice.
"Sorry if I want to enjoy this life a little."
He genuinely seemed to mean it and that silenced Porter.
"So, about Tano?"
"What of him, Beyett?" Corwin asked.
"We don't have anywhere to be right now, no information to go on, so we might as well put our efforts into getting him out."
Corwin shrugged, for he had no idea where to start.
"Ah, Captain," said Hotwell, as he entered the pub and took a seat beside them.
"We were just discussing our comrade Tano and how we can get him back."
"Back? No, no, not a chance in hell with that, I am afraid."
"That just isn't good enough."
"Yeah, well, it's out of my hands. There’s nothing I can do."
"We need this team to be the strongest it can be. For whatever Tano is or isn't, he is a vital asset to us."
"That very well may be, but he attempted to kill the Prime Minister. Were he a British citizen, he would already have been shot or hanged for treason. He may yet still."
"That can't happen," said Beyett.
"Fucking right," added Vi.
"I am sorry, but it’s way beyond my control. We must all accept that there are consequences to our actions."
"We don't need a lesson on right and wrong. We know what he did, and also why he did it. Sometimes good people die to achieve the desired end. The Prime Minister must know that."
"Without a doubt he does. But that does not change the fact that he cannot let a would-be assassin walk free. Why would Tano not try and do the same thing again? And what message does it send out to the world?"
"But the world doesn't even know it happened," Vi pleaded.
"But enough do. Look, if there was anything I could do, I would, you know that."
"Then find someone who can. Appeal to the Prime Minister directly if you have to."
"I will just be wasting my time. We..."
"Just do it."
"I'll...I'll do what I can."
"Good," Corwin replied and sipped on his beer.
He knew the difficult position he was putting the Captain in, but they had to at least try.
"And when I get nowhere, what then?"
"Just keep moving forward. That's all any of us can do. Aside from that, we need our operation set back up here in the morning. We need to find Villiers at all costs."
Hotwell's shoulders sagged, and he sighed deeply.
"What is it?"
"Just this Villiers chap. We have put considerable efforts into discovering who and where he is, and yet we have not even found evidence of his existence yet. All we have to go on is the fact you say he is there working with the Axis powers."
"Just because you haven't found him, doesn't mean he doesn't exist."
"Yes, yes, I am aware of that fact, but many are starting to doubt."
"Many, like who?"
"Like the swathe of commanders who have born witness to your abilities and are eager to put them to use in this war, rather than chasing a ghost. You know you can make such a difference, if you just work with the war effort. I mean, come on, ten of you took an entire destroyer from the Germans without a single loss. Those are the kind of victories we need."
"You want us to stop looking for Villiers?"
"Not stop, just work to help the war while you do it. If he is indeed pulling strings in Germany, then helping out in this war fights him anyway."
Corwin looked out to his team for answers.
"Anything that gets us out of this hole," added Vi.
"Just send me to kill Nazis, or anyone else, anything but boredom," replied Harland.
The group agreed with him in an unusual turn of events.
"Okay, but I will not lose sight of Villiers or Tano. Those issues won't go away."
"Understood. I think my superiors will be much more inclined to help if you are willing to do their bidding."
"To a degree. You tell them we will continue to assist, so long as it does not interfere with our own mission."
"You are asking a lot."
"Yeah, I think we have earned that right. Churchill himself saw what we can do, and we saved his life."
"Is that why you did it? To gain power and independence?"
Corwin shook his head. "Nobody acts selflessly in this world, and nobody risks their lives for a man they have never met and don't know. Why, does that bother you?"
Hotwell shrugged.
"I just figured you had done it for the right reasons, and not your own."
"If only life were that simple," said Beyett.
"I know," Hotwell wearily got back to his feet, "You will have to excuse me, gentlemen. There is more work to be done before I can rest."
He turned and left. He stepped out from the pub and stopped in the entrance, lifting his lighter to a cigarette. As he went to light it, he noticed a glimmer of movement. He saw a man dressed in civilian attire kneeling down in front of a parked jeep and peering in through one of the windows of the pub. He had a camera hanging on his side and a notebook that he was writing in. He was barely visible, as almost all the windows had been covered due to blackout conditions. But a tiny ray of light from a small opening cast a shadow.
"You there! What are you doing?"
Frasi sharply leapt up from the table, causing several patrons to stumble back in surprise. He was the only one that had heard the Captain's words. The mysterious man began to run, and Hotwell threw down his cigarette and ran after him. He chased him across the parking lot and finally jumped at his legs, tackling him to the ground. But before he could get up, the man had turned him over and drawn a knife. He thrust it towards his chest. Hotwell pushed out both his hands to defend himself. His left hand caught the blade. It cut deeply into his hand until it stopped at the guard, while his right hand held onto the man's wrist. He tried with all his strength to hold the knife off, but it was being slowly drawn nearer to his chest.
With his other hand, the man punched the Captain to the face to try and weaken him. The first struck his nose, a second strike hammered into his jaw and sent excruciating pain through his face. He weakened slightly, and the tip of the knife reached his jacket pocket before stopping it at the last second. The man lifted his hand for another punch, and the Captain knew he couldn't hold the knife back any longer as he felt his strength fade. The first has heading for his head when a knife appeared at the man's throat and slit open his windpipe.
Blood spewed out over the Captain as the man was draw back away from him and held firmly, until the life was drained from him in Frasi's arms. Hotwell coughed and spluttered as blood sprayed out over his uniform and mixed with that of his attacker. Corwin and the others came rushing out with sidearms drawn and the rest of the bar patrons in tow.
"What the hell is this?" Corwin shouted.
"An enemy agent...a spy," replied Hotwell, trying to regain his breath.
He looked over at the dead man and shook his head, turning to Frasi who was oblivious and calm to their presence as he cleaned the blood from his knife.
"Why did you do that?"
Frasi looked up at Hotwell with a blank expression.
"Why did you kill him? Do you know how valuable enemy agents are if caught alive?"
But Frasi said nothing.
"Do you know?"
"Whoa now, Captain, seems like our man here just saved your life," Corwin said.
"But couldn't you have just knocked him out, taken an arm? Just have dragged him off me? Why go for his throat?"
"Because we aren't the cops, we are killers," replied Harland.
"He'
s right. We exist to fight and to survive. I’m surprised you managed to go after him at all, but you should count yourself lucky."
Corwin pointed down at Hotwell's chest. There was a hole in his tunic pocket, and a light trickle of blood seeping from it. He hadn't even noticed the blade touch his skin. It was a sobering thought when he realised how close he had come to death. He turned back to Frasi.
"Thank you, I mean it."
Frasi nodded stoically, sheathed his knife, and sat on a tree stump as if he didn't have a care in the world. Hotwell pulled himself up onto his feet and staggered over to the body and knelt down beside it.
"What do you think he was doing here?" Vi asked.
"With any luck he was just snooping for general information. We are near a military training facility, after all."
"And if that isn't what he was doing?"
"Then let's hope that isn't the case, Captain. He seems to be alone, so it’s probably nothing to worry about."
"He turned the body over onto its back and rifled through his pockets. He pulled out a little change and a wallet that had nothing out of the ordinary inside.
"That notebook, where the hell is it?" he asked himself in frustration.
"Captain," said Lecia.
He looked up just in time to see the notebook being thrown at him, and he caught it at the last moment.
"Thank you," he replied and lifted the cover.
"Troop movements, arrivals, and departures. Local exercises."
"But what about us and what he just saw?"
He flicked to the last entry.
"Just a description of a few of you. He doesn't seem to have any clue what or who you are."
"No, but a thorough enough description could identify us if it got to the right hands. How many more agents like this do you think are out there?" Corwin asked.
Time War: Onslaught Page 4
