by Chris Lowry
“When?”
“Two nights, we think. Harry and I went to Academy to question him again. No one’s seen him, and he’s not home.”
She clicked on her terminal.
“Report on Mob activity near the Academy,” she queried.
“None,” the Computer answered.
“Location density of Mob?”
“Last night, coordinates unknown. Limited access, limited reading.”
“Why are they so quiet?” Bram asked.
“I don’t know. Darren, any word on Robe or the Templar?”
“Nothing since the car.”
She stared at the monitor.
“Series of events, next week’s fundraiser. Mob prediction,” she typed.
“Insufficient data for correct extrapolation.”
“Work with limited parameters.”
“Possible Mob assault. Possible no activity. Recent levels dropping. Mob activity receding.”
“Bram, double post Troops,” she ordered.
“Stephen?”
The tall assistant stepped through the door behind Darren.
“Yes.”
“I need R & D up here for a meeting,” she chewed on the tip of her finger.
“In an hour.”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure you want to double post?” Bram asked.
“We need all resources for our search.”
“I don’t like what the Mob is doing.”
“They aren’t doing anything.”
“Precisely.”
“Commander, this happens every year. The season changes, it gets colder, the Mob goes deeper underground or disappears altogether. There’s no reason to panic.”
“I’m not. This is a precaution.”
“But the Council suggested we find the prisoner. They’re not going to like us calling it off,” Bram argued.
“You concentrate on your job, Second, which is following my orders.”
He bristled. The argument from earlier threatened to erupt again. He barely held himself in check.
“Yes sir.”
“You have your orders.”
He left without a word, shoving past Darren who stood mutely blocking the door.
“What do you want?” she snapped, noticing the eager Trooper rooted to the floor.
“Harry and I want permission to search on our own.”
“You heard my orders. Concentrate on the Mob.”
“It won’t interfere with our regular duty.”
She waved him off, ready to be rid of him.
“What you do on your own time is your business. But it absolutely cannot keep you from your duty.”
“Yes sir,” Darren saluted and left before she could change her mind.
She leaped across the room, landing at the dispenser. She stretched like a cat, relishing the dull ache it produced in her muscles.
She had been sleeping in her chair, running through scenario after scenario in the Computer, hoping for a breakthrough with the Templar, a revelation or answer. Nothing was forthcoming.
She drew a cup of caffeinated water, hoping the stimulant would jolt her awake. She had to determine what was going on with the Mob, with the money makers, with the Templar.
She needed answers and it was going to be a long night. The chronometer on her desk told her it was only three in the afternoon.
“What if we kill you while you sleep?”
Bangar poured a big cup of warm tea from an iron kettle over the small fire. He handed it to the Templar.
“We are five. Sleeping in shifts, one of us will raise the alarm. When I wake, I will destroy you.
“What if we shoot you while you guard the others?”
Banger and the Templar had been in the hut for over an hour, sharing company and questions. Banger was nearing the end a list of possibilities on removing the Templar from his camp.
Every contingency was outlined with possible variations, and each was met with a simple proclamation of utter destruction.
In the beginning, Banger though the Templar was exaggerating for effect. After all, this was the man that entered the camp under the guise of a demon. but he was very straightforward with his answers.
He never bragged about killing the entire village.
It was a simple statement, a token of honesty Banger grew to appreciate.
“What if we shoot you with a rocket, and snipe your friends at the same time?”
The Templar took a swallow of the tea, savoring the bitter-sweet warmth that washed down his throat.
“A rocket will disorient me. I am impervious. The Suits will protect the others.”
“There are two without Suits.”
“Two are Doctors.”
“And you are indestructible without the armor?”
“No, I am a man. But I come from a different place. Somehow, these weapons don’t affect me the same.”
“But what if we-”
“Banger, I tire of these questions. Accept the fact that I am staying. I will let you live. I will let all live, I only require your pledge. Tell me we are safe here. We will not interrupt your lives. You will go on doing what you do, to who you wish. We will not stop you.”
Banger smiled, finally catching the Templar with his own words.
“Troopers pledge to kill Corsairs. That is the way. Even if you are not a Trooper, the two Suits out there cannot let us continue. They made a vow to stop us.”
“They are my men. They do what I tell them.”
“So you say,” Banger shook his head.
The Templar stood up, shaking his legs and arms, ready for anything. He nodded to Banger to follow him.
Outside, twilight was falling. The sleeping bodies of the villagers had been gathered in small groups around fires that burned off the chill that was setting in.
Banger was surprised.
The Suits were even now dragging the body of a Corsair over to a group and laying him gently down, while the older man checked him over.
“Robe, Pip,” the Templar called them over.
The Troopers jogged to him, stopping a few paces away. Their rifles were slung across their backs, but their hands rested on pistol grips at their waste. Each movement copied the other, and Banger marveled at the precision training.
“Why are your weapons there?” he pointed to their guns.
“What of my snipers in the woods?”
Pip smiled.
“We searched and destroyed each of your outposts.”
Banger looked at the Templar triumphantly.
“They are vowed to kill us. It is in their blood.”
“We didn’t kill,” said Pip.
“That’s just what we call the hunt. Each of your men is in one of the groups. They’ll sleep the night through, but we didn’t kill anyone.”
“But your vow-”
“They are promised to me. I give the order to kill,” said the Templar.
“Is this true?”
Pip and Robe nodded.
“He is our Commander now,” said Robe.
“We do what he wishes.”
“Fact is,” said Pip. “We have to ask him not to kill. Troopers value life, Templar doesn’t. He would just as soon kill you and not have to worry about it.”
“So he has told me,” Banger appraised the strangers with new appreciation.
“But why do you not kill us? We’re Corsairs.”
“We only kill pirates we catch in the act,” explained Robe.
“This is only a village. We did not see you committing piracy.”
“They did shoot us down,” reminded Pip.
“And sent men to capture our ship.”
Robe nodded.
“But the Templar told us he’d take care of it. We trust him.”
The Templar clapped a hand on Banger’s back.
“Then we will stay and rest.”
He marched to where Darwin checked on Bruce.
Banger raised his eyes to the two Troopers left
flanking him.
“He said he will kill us all if we harm you while you sleep,” he said.
Pip nodded.
“He probably will.”
“We saw him fight the Mob and Troops. Twice. He is not a man to be defeated.”
“He fought the Mob?”
“No Suit. Two weapons, and his hands when we found him. He was ripping them in half, using a leg as a club.”
Banger’s eyes were wide on his dark face.
“Then he is a demon.”
“Maybe,” Robe agreed.
“But he isn’t from our world. Our rules don’t apply to him. We agreed to follow him wherever.”
“Why?” asked Banger.
Robe thought for a moment.
“I will tell you, but we have to eat. All this hauling made me hungry.”
“Me too,” chimed in Pip.
“Hey Doc! You want to eat?”
Darwin left the Templar with Bruce and jogged over to them.
“Thought you would never ask.”
“Templar!”
He motioned them to go without him and headed into the woods.
“What is he doing?” asked Banger.
“He said he would rest,” answered Darwin, shrugging his shoulders.
Banger led them back to his small hut.
He wandered down the well worn path, pushing past the lush vegetation that grew over the top. Here and there, his eyes could detect evidence of the path being made, branches hacked in half, flowers shoved back from the trail and now growing in some distorted unnatural pattern. But the jungle grew quickly, covering up and hiding until the path seemed a natural extension of nature.
He listened for sounds that were strange to him.
He had been in the woods often, growing up and on many sojourns with is team, but none quite like this.
Never before had he been on an island. Not even on the small mounds of tree covered dirt that dot the occasional riverscape. He could smell the salt tinged breeze rustling through the trees, and the half rotten fish stench that each ocean claimed as it’s own.
The path took him to the beach.
He fought back an impulse to run across the sand and sink into the splashing surf. His eyes took in every detail, hovering on the horizon, searching for ships in air or on water. He looked first one way up the sandy stretch, then the other.
He was alone.
“Here, I am safe,” he decided.
He walked through the sand until he reached the edge of the water. He leaned over, cupped a handful and took a deep swallow.
He spit it out, gagging. It was salty.
He wiped his tongue with his hand, trying to get the taste out of his mouth. Sand grated on his teeth. He spit again.
The setting sun was warm on his back and shoulders. He unzipped the tattered bodysuit to the belt and tied the sleeves around his waist. Reaching his pistol was awkward with the bulky material blocking the way, so he shoved the barrel between his waistband.
He held out his arms, feeling the blood pump into his muscles as he stretched the soreness out of them.
Up the beach, an outcropping of rock bisected the sand, jutting from the water into the dark woods. He ran for it, barely breaking a sweat as he reached it and jumped on top.
From here the beach stretched into a gentle curve, hiding behind a sloping strand of trees as it rounded the island.
His eyelids drooped in weariness, the breeze washed over his sundrenched back, a delicious combination of warm and cool.
He longed to swim in the clear blue water, but his body reminded him of a promise. He searched for a suitable place.
Following the rock face into the woods, he found two giant trees growing side by side against the mound, forming a three sided barrier. He nested his body between them, laying his gun across his lap.
“This is a good place to sleep for a day,” he told himself and set his internal clock for tomorrow.
The others would worry about him, but what did it matter. Banger and his village would not harm them for fear of reprisal.
The stars winked on in the sky, filtering through the treetops, casting cold gray shadows across his chest. He fell asleep.
“When we were in HQ,” Robe spoke around the edge of his spoon, shoveling warm chowder-like substance into his mouth and talking over it. “Templar was a prisoner and we were assigned to guard him. He was magnificent in battle, I mean the best I’ve ever heard of.”
“And he was smart,” Pip talked over her bowl too.
“At first, we thought he was a mindless creature bent on destruction, but we forgot to take into account that he was scared-”
“That man was scared?” Banger said.
“Sure, you would be too if you were dragged through time,” answered Pip.
“I don’t think this is appropriate,” Darwin set his bowl on the floor and wiped his mouth.
“I feel this avenue of discussion creates more questions than it answers.”
“He was dragged through time?”
“He’s not from around here,” Pip amended.
“And he was fighting the Mob as soon as he got here, then fighting us, then t Mob again. Everything he knew about us from the beginning was fight.”
“But that was what he was bred for, and he was good at it,” Robe picked up the story.
“We finally captured him, but it was mostly luck on our part. Pip and I were guarding him in his cell, we had to keep our guns on him, the energy bonds don’t hold him. We finally got a chance to talk to him. He’s just like us, a soldier trained to do a job. He didn’t know what was going on around him, so he just followed instinct.”
“But why are you here?”
Darwin cleared his throat.
“I am here because he asked me,” he said.
“I am responsible for introducing him to our society, I hold information about his past, and he came to me asking my help.”
He took a long swallow of water.
“The Templar has been trained as a Temple Warrior in the old fashion. Everything he knows about battle was lost or distilled somewhere in history. I came to study him and compare my knowledge of history with his.”
Robe refilled his bowl from the common kettle over the small fire.
“We came because he needs us. During our talk, he let us know him, let us know who he is and what he is about,” said Robe.
“He’s not a monster, he’s just a man, scared and alone,” Pip added. “The Main Terminal ordered his death and Robe and I didn’t think it was fair or right,” her breath came soft and quick. “We knew it meant our expulsion and warrants for treason. But he was worth the risk.”
“It seems we have something in common with the Templar,” Banger said, standing up quickly.
“But will you die for him?”
Relaxed by the warm stew and conversation, Robe let his rifle slip to the floor.
He reached for it. A foot crunched his hand.
“You will,” a feminine voice whispered in his ear.
He tried to roll away, but a body check knocked him to the side of the hut.
Sharp metal pressed into his neck.
“Wait!” Banger jumped
He stepped past the trio to stand beside a tall, lithe young woman. She held a spear in her hands, and another across her back, the razor edges glinting in the firelight.
She watched Robe with cold eyes, aware of Pip and Darwin.
“I was worried they had you,” Banger kissed her forehead, running his hands over her shoulders and arms, checking her for injury.
“These? I heard these coming and hid. The Suits are too noisy to be effective,” she laughed derisively.
“Are there any dead?”
She tossed her mane of sun blond hair back toward the door, indicating the mass of prone forms spread below.
“Stunned all,” said Banger.
“Which is why we do not kill these. They have a leader.”
“I gathered as much. I did not s
mell him as I came in, where has he gone?”
“Who are you?” Pip growled.
The tip of a spear moved from Robe’s neck to press into Pip’s jaw.
“You speak when spoken to, Suit.”
“This is my daughter,” Banger beamed with pride.
“She is our greatest warrior. My greatest accomplishment.”
She shrugged off the compliment.
“I have trained, father,” she bowed her head.
“Get their weapons and bind them. I will hunt for their leader.”
“No,” he argued.
“I was hoping to hear more of him before you arrived. He is too strong for you. He’s not one of them.”
She laughed, head thrown back, eyes shining.
“Too strong for me? No such thing. I will come upon him from the trees, like thunder from the sky. I will strike like a snake. He will not even know it was me that was his death.”
Robe snorted.
The woman slammed the but of her spear across his face.
He sprawled on the floor.
“Do not mock me,” she warned.
“Templar will hear your fall,” hissed Pip.
“He will catch you in midair and break you before you land.”
“I think not,” she turned to the Trooper.
“I am guerrilla trained, jungle hunter. Neither man nor beast can hide from me, nor stand before me.”
“You,” Banger nudged Darwin with his foot.
“You know the history of this man. Does he have jungle training?”
Darwin took his glasses off and cleaned them with a corner of his shirt. He adjusted them on his nose, studying the tall Amazonian warrior in front of him.
“I don’t know his history specifically. I only know the history of his Order. He was a Knight Templar, a warrior priest dedicated to good and justice, fighting to right the wrong and protect the weak. At least, so as I know. But our Templar has been a bit of an enigma.”
Banger bound each of them with pieces of small rope. Robe and Pip tried to test the bonds, but the knots wouldn’t budge.
“A priest? He will be easy prey.”
“Patience,” Banger lay a hand on her arm.
“I asked you a question,” he said to Darwin.
“I don’t know what training he has had. I have seen him fight, the Mob and Troops. I have seen him win both times, against superior odds and impossible chances. I have seen him shot. I don’t think a mere jungle guerrilla with spears will be able to defeat him.”