by James Palmer
“But your staff—” Archer began.
“Is powerful, yes. But limited in scope. It can heal wounds, and control the bestial creatures that inhabit this world. But it lacks the power to topple an entire city.”
“We’ve got to do something,” Archer said, throwing up his hands. “Lady Vashta spoke of you with great respect.”
Thinker frowned. “I am sorry. I am but one, as are you. Together we are still only two. It is not enough. Not against my brothers in the domed cities of Venus.”
Archer scowled at the Overman. “So you’re just going to sit here in your cave and do nothing? I have a home. A life! And what about Vashta?”
“She knew the dangers when she took on this crusade,” said Thinker flatly.
“She’s going to be charged with treason. Even I can guess what that means.”
“It means death, for her and her associates. She might even be dead already.”
“And you don’t even care.”
Thinker’s head snapped toward him sharply. “Not true, Earth man. I was working to free your people when this planet was still a lifeless husk. Do not presume to question my resolve. I do care, too much. So much that my brothers plotted to kill me, forcing me to leave Cadmium and exile myself here forever.”
Archer shook his head. “All right. So what happened? How did things get like this? How did people sink to this level? Where where did the Overmen come from?
Venn Sann began pacing the cave floor slowly back and forth. “Before I answer,” he said, “keep in mind that man also rose to great heights. Now sit down, and I will tell you what you want to know.”
Archer sat while Venn Sann paced, his eyes taking on a distant cast, as if he wasn’t viewing their surroundings at all.
“There is a science, still in its infancy in your time, if memory serves, called genetics,” he said. “Once mankind had mastered their environment, they set about mastering themselves, using genetics to change into better beings. At first we made ourselves stronger, faster. But that was just the beginning. We started making ourselves smarter as well. Our machines became capable of doing anything we could do, so we meshed and melded with them. This brought about a sweeping change that overtook the Earth, which your greatest minds called the Singularity. But by then it was too late to save our planet. Fortunately, we could still save ourselves.”
“We cured every disease, including many you have not yet heard of, and would be frightened to know will one day exist. We even cured death, becoming immortal. But we had altered ourselves too far. We could no longer be counted among our fellow homo sapiens. We had become something more.”
“The Overmen,” said Archer, his mouth dry.
Thinker nodded. “We were humanity’s stewards at first, guiding them toward their grand destiny among the stars. But I suppose there was just enough humanity left in us that we fell for that oldest of human foibles: pride. Our arrogance, our hubris, taught us that we alone should rule and act not as guides, but as cruel taskmasters. Some humans even came to worship us as gods.”
He paused in his pacing and addressed Archer face to face. “Our followers, and those who had served us faithfully, the wealthy elite of the late great planet Earth, were rewarded for their service. We made them even wealthier, and immortal. We placated them with vapid entertainments and gave them machines to fulfill their every material want. The former working classes were turned into serfs at best, and slaves at worst.”
Archer gasped as he finally realized something. “The domes are in place to keep them out.”
Thinker nodded. “The domes have multiple uses. Even though it has been terraformed, Venus is a harsh environment. It takes a hardy, dangerous beast to make a home here. The domes protect the cities from the predations of the local mega fauna, as well as help the populace regulate their circadian rhythms, as you’ve no doubt seen.”
Archer nodded. “So what are the Overmen doing messing around in my time? Do you know anything about that?”
Venn Sann nodded once, his heavy-lidded eyes boring into Archer’s. “I am afraid I do. There had been talk of time travel when I was still a denizen of Cadmium, and a member of the Grand Council. I didn’t think they could ever actually do it, and I don’t know how they ultimately achieved it, but your existence here is proof they were successful.”
Thinker went to the cave’s mouth and stared out at the jungle below. “We Overmen have little to fear. We are functionally immortal, and masters of our surroundings. We can travel from city to city, and from planet to planet, on a whim. The stars beckon; they are our playground.”
Now he turned and looked at Archer, his face stern. “When the last stars burn out, our kind will be there to toast the end of existence. The so-called heat death of the universe, when every possible physical and chemical reaction has taken place, and there is no more energy to be consumed and converted into something else. There the universe will end. But what of us?”
Archer nodded, thinking he understood. “Your kind can die after all,” he said.
“Yes,” said Thinker. “For all our tinkering we have only managed to postpone death, not cure it. As immortals, we are forced to take the long view. What happens a hundred thousand or a million or a billion years from now, time frames that are so vast as to be beyond human concerns.”
“But if you go back in time,” said Archer. “You prolong your lives even more. Maybe even find a way to survive the heat death?”
“Exactly,” said Thinker. He smiled but it looked more like a sneer. “There are other universes than these. If we could find a way to reach one of them before we succumb to the entropy that will ultimately destroy this universe, we could escape and start anew.”
“No offense, Venn Sann,” said Archer. “But your people are insane.”
“In this case I cannot disagree. I too find aspects of what they propose abhorrent in the extreme, but I am afraid I can do nothing to stop them. The damage is already done.”
Archer jumped to his feet. “I can’t accept that. I just can’t. There has to be something we can do. Help me return to my own time. Maybe I can stop them back there.”
“You must find and secure one of the devices that brought you here,” said Thinker.
“What? But your staff. I thought—”
“As I have said, my staff can do many things, but time travel is not one of its capabilities. I told you that technology was in its infancy when I left Cadmium.”
Archer slumped, crestfallen. “So one way or the other, I’ve got to get back into Cadmium. Lady Vashta is in danger. Will you help me?”
Thinker cast his cold gaze upon the ground. “It may already be too late for her.”
Archer lunged at the tall, broad being. “How do you know? You won’t even try. I asked before if you cared. Now I think that you’re just a coward.”
The Overman raised his staff and Archer took a step back, raising his fists. “You forget yourself, Earth man. I have survived battles you could scarcely fathom.”
“Then prove it. Help me take back the city, your city.”
“Alas, I cannot.”
“Cannot, or will not?”
Thinker turned his back on Archer then to stare into the dwindling fire. “I wish you peace and safety on your journey. May whatever gods you believe in be with you on your quest. You must go now.”
Venn Sann sat near the fire again, placed his staff across his lap, and was silent.
After a long moment, Archer snatched up his water skin and walked to the cave’s mouth. He did not look at the Overman as he made his descent to the jungle floor.
Chapter Eleven
A Fighting Man of Venus
The short descent to the jungle floor was less arduous than his attempt to climb up to Thinker’s cave, and within ten minutes Archer was staring into the dense jungle once more. He realized quickly that he had been wounded and delirious when he had been brought here by the twins, and had no idea how to get back to their small village, or whatever was le
ft of it. But as his keen eyes scanned the jungle he noticed a wide swath of broken tree limbs and trampled vines, no doubt created by the beast of burden that had brought him here. He followed this trail into the jungle.
The journey was long, and twice he had to depart the path of his previous passage and hide among the thick trees as some great lumbering beast trampled through the tangled growth a short distance from where Archer crouched. He had to carefully preserve the water in the skin Voro and Joro had given him, but he ate amply of the fruit growing nearby he recognized from his time in the city. He rested only briefly, then hurried on his way, eager to return to Cadmium and Lady Vashta, if she was indeed still alive. He felt as if there was more he could have done, that he should have stayed and tried to protect her. But no. He would be sentenced to die right alongside her. This was the best and only way. Perhaps she was, even now, awaiting an army to come for her. His army. Archer silently vowed that he would not let her down.
Soon Archer heard the sounds of people talking, and smelled meat cooking. He ran, crashing through the last veil of jungle before arriving once again in the familiar clearing. The people of the village looked up from their chores, startled, but the surprise did not last long, as they went back to what they were doing, heedless of the stranger who had returned to them from the brink of death.
“Joro!” Archer called. “Voro!”
Archer looked around the clearing, but saw no sign of the young man and woman who had helped him.
“The twins are not here,” said a tall, stern-looking man with a thick brown beard. “They went into the woods to gather meat from the sky-beast.”
“So it died,” said Archer, pleased with himself.
“You caused it great pain. It thrashed about, allowing our best spear men to fell it. It crashed in the forest nearby. You are welcome to stay and partake in the feast, but stop your foolish talk about building an army.”
“But we have to raid Cadmium,” said Archer.
“Such an attack would be foolhardy at best,” said the man. “Our weapons cannot pierce the dome.”
“But you have friends on the inside,” said Archer. “There are people in the city as tired of Overmen rule as you are.”
“It does not matter,” said the man as he went back to knapping a piece of flint into a spear point. “The Overmen cannot be defeated. Not by anyone, of any number.”
“If that’s how you feel, then you’ve already lost,” said Archer. “But someone there is counting on me, and I will not let her down.”
“That is your fool’s errand,” said the man without looking up from his work. “Don’t make it ours.”
A line of people emerged from the jungle then, each of them dragging litters piled high with big gobs of meat covered with leaves. One the other side of the clearing a large fire pit had been constructed, and the hunting party headed there. Archer spied Joro and Voro, waved them over. He waited for them to detach themselves from the group, running toward him with smiles on their faces.
“Archer,” said Joro, “You live!”
“Thanks to you,” said Archer. “And the Thinker’s staff.”
“You saw him then?” said Voro. “You reached the cave?”
“Yes. I spoke with Thinker. He won’t help me.”
Voro clasped his hand on Archer’s shoulder. “It will be all right. Follow me, and I will explain.”
While the rest of the village prepared themselves for the feast, Archer went with the twins to the opposite end of the clearing. “The others won’t help you,” said Voro. “They’re too scared. But we are not the only village. There are others who feel as you. We will send word to them.”
Archer felt a frisson of hope. “Do you think they will help?”
“When I tell them of the man who escaped from Cadmium and felled a sky beast, they will come. But they will want a plan. Many times people have tried to invade one of the cities to retrieve their stolen loved ones, but the domes are impenetrable.”
Archer nodded. “I’m working on a plan. Just get them here. I will have something worked out by then.”
Voro nodded and ran for his mount, the green reptilian beast that had carried Archer to Thinker’s cave. Archer hoped he wasn’t lying to the boy. If he hadn’t thought of something by the time a war party assembled, this would all be over before it began. Vashta would surely be dead. And Archer would be trapped in this future hell forever.
Joro brought Archer some food, but he was too nervous to eat. His only thoughts were of Vashta. He hoped she was still all right. He remembered all he’d been through with her, and how she had been the catalyst for it all. He had never stuck his neck out for anyone before. Except her. There was a compassion, a nobility in her that was bigger than this cold, cruel Venus with its excessive formality and over-reliance on violence and bloodshed. Archer realized then that for her, and her alone, he’d gladly topple a city, a whole planet, if it meant he could see her again.
Archer ate sparingly, then dozed in the heat, listening to the drone of the village elders and the high-pitched wine of insects. Then a hand rested upon his shoulder. He started awake and stared. It was Voro with a grin on his face.
“They are coming. They will be here within the hour. What is your plan?”
Archer realized he still had no plan, no way of getting even a small war party into the city. Then he snapped his fingers. “Have them meet me where the stream widens.”
Joro nodded and ran off.
Archer stood and addressed the men and women of the village. “I know how we can get into the city undetected and get your people back. But I’m going to need some volunteers.”
Archer ended up with seven grizzly men from the village who were intrigued enough by his vague promise of a plan, each armed with a heavy spear and a sour expression. They stood on the bank of the stream as he addressed them, feeling like General Patton giving his men a pep talk before battle.
“You guys ever heard of a Trojan horse?” he asked.
Their blank stares confirmed they had not. Archer shrugged and continued. “We’re going to hide inside the flesh harvesters when they come.”
More blank stares.
“The big machines that take your people.”
The men nodded and began to mutter objections.
“It will be all right. Let yourselves be taken. Just hold on to your weapons. When those things enter the city and let you out, boy, will they be in for a big surprise.”
This plan seemed to please them, and they smiled and clapped each other on the shoulders. The wall of green behind them began to shake, and at least two dozen more men, all of them sturdy and laden with weapons, came crashing out of the jungle to stand in a line behind Archer’s volunteers, their lizard-like beasts of burden bringing even more weapons and supplies.
Archer didn’t know what would happen once they passed through Cadmium’s gates, or if they would even be successful using stone age weapons against the near-omnipotent might of the Overmen, but it was a start. All he needed was a good distraction to get in and find Lady Vashta, and this plan would do just that. Besides, it was the only plan he had.
The spear men crouched in the brush, while a small group waded into the water to make it look like a fishing party on any other day.
Archer, Voro, and his sister Joro knelt behind a stand of tall grass that whispered in the hot breeze. Archer wondered if the harvesters would even be by today. Joro explained that there was no visible pattern to their movements, which always gave them the element of surprise. “We’ll use that against them,” Archer had said, hoping he was right. As they waited, he knew that Lady Vashta was coming closer and closer to her inevitable execution. In the meantime they were probably questioning her, even torturing her. Archer pushed such horrid thoughts from his mind. All he could do was work the plan he had envisioned.
They waited for nearly three hours. Finally, the trees parted, and three shining metallic shapes lumbered into view. Archer’s breath caught in his throat. The
y were still as frightening as they’d been the first time he’d seen them, their metal tentacles whipping out and down, snatching up any hapless souls who wandered too close. He fought for his voice and found it.
“Go now!” Archer said. “Don’t fight! Let yourselves be captured!”
The war party rose from the greenery and ran toward the flesh harvesters, standing still as the terrifying machines snatched them one by one and placed them in the hoppers on their broad backs. Two of the machines filled quickly, while Archer ran for the third machine, which was bringing up the rear and had just placed its four legs straddling the stream.
Suddenly the first two machines shook violently, as if some malfunction had occurred. Then the tentacles went to the hoppers on their backs and probed down inside them, lifting out Archer’s armed men by their arms, their legs, and tossing them to the ground, their spears, stone daggers and other weapons falling into the water or getting lost in the grass.
“No!” Archer screamed. He ran forward, helpless as the big machines began to trample the warriors they had just thrown from their backs. The men rolled out of the way just as the titanic feet come down, attempting to crush them.
Archer’s mind raced, wondering what had gone wrong. It was as if the huge automatons had somehow detected the stone age weapons inside their hoppers and had reacted accordingly. He felt numb. His plan had failed.
The frustrated warriors hurled their spears at the flesh harvesters, their flint tips shattering against the titanium carapaces of the machines. Then two of the machines lifted high into the air. At first Archer thought it was under their own power, but their legs and tentacles squirmed as if caught in a huge vice. Then the flesh harvesters slammed together, the shattered and torn components coming down in a tangled heap at the feet of the men as they cheered.
“What?” Archer turned, sensing a figure moving up behind him slowly. It was Venn Sann, the Thinker, holding his staff aloft in his right hand. The cylinder on its tip glowed a soft yellow, and Archer felt rather than heard a faint hum issuing from it.