Send Simon Savage #1

by Stephen Measday

  At least his suit insulated him from the cold. He tried not to flinch at every drop of water that fell on his head, or at the scuffle of every creature scuttling in the dark corners. The black cockroaches were giants. He had spotted one over eight centimetres long—bigger than the ones that crawled around their Sydney kitchen in summer.

  Simon wondered if his situation could get any worse. He was imprisoned in a hole, stranded in a time that wasn’t his own, in a country he didn’t know. And he was separated both from Danice and the timeline back home. The mission was on the verge of being a failure. No one would ever know who the Chieftain was, or what had happened to Simon. He would never get back to his own time. He would probably die, right there in a pit in the twenty-fourth century.

  Simon buried his face in his hands.

  Suddenly there was a cry from above. ‘Simon! Simon!’

  The grate was lifted by a burly guard, and a moment later, Danice was shoved down the slippery metal ladder.

  Simon jumped to his feet. ‘Danice! Are you okay?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m all right,’ she replied. ‘Phew! This place really is the pits!’

  Simon’s spirits were already lifting. ‘It’s quiet and there’s plenty of running water,’ he said.

  ‘What about spiders?’

  ‘No. But cockroaches and lizards, yes.’

  Danice shuddered. ‘That’s all right, then. I hate spiders, especially when you can’t get away from them.’

  ‘Did they give you the third degree?’ Simon asked. ‘What did you tell them?’

  ‘That I was a time traveller from the twenty-first century. They didn’t believe me.’

  Simon smiled. ‘Funny, I tried that one, too.’

  ‘Didn’t work?’

  ‘We’re in here, aren’t we?’

  ‘Okay, so what are we going to do?’

  Simon shrugged. ‘No one knows we’re here and no one knows we’re in trouble. Not your family, not the Time Bureau, no one.’

  ‘We’re on our own,’ Danice agreed.

  ‘And we’re a long way from the TPS rendezvous point,’ Simon added.

  ‘Not much future at the bottom of a pit,’ Danice murmured.

  ‘I don’t see how we’re going to get out of this dump,’ Simon said.

  ‘And I’m starving.’

  Simon patted the empty travel pouch on the right thigh of his suit. ‘Did they take your food bars from you, too?’ he asked.

  Danice nodded ruefully.

  Simon looked around at the slimy dark walls. ‘How long do you think they’ll keep us here?’

  ‘Somehow, I don’t think it’s going to be long.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘They’re just leaving us here to soften us up. I think they’re planning to send us away.’ Danice made a face. ‘In fact, I’m pretty sure they are sending us away.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘One place we don’t want to be. The Prison Farms!’

  ‘Ah, porcus! Please try the porcus, gentlemen,’ the Chieftain said.

  He indicated the roast suckling pig that O’Bray had placed in the centre of the dining table. On each side of this new platter were solid gold bowls, filled with fresh fruits, nuts, cheeses and fresh bread rolls. ‘And please do try these baked dormice, dipped in honey and rolled in poppy seeds!’

  ‘A true Roman banquet. Extraordinary!’ one of his three guests said.

  Tyrone was a stern man with an ugly scar furrowing his left cheek. He brushed a few bread-crumbs from his red silk shirt, and then took a baked dormouse between a thumb and forefinger, lifted it into his mouth and crushed the creature’s tiny bones between his teeth. ‘Mmm, absolutely delicious!’ he said, licking his lips. ‘This is like something described in the history books—the food extolled by the poets of old.’

  The Chieftain chuckled. ‘Well, I’m a great fan of the poets of old.’

  ‘It certainly beats the dull fare we usually have for lunch,’ Cyrus said. He was a hunched man with big hands like crab claws. He leaned forward to spear a roast pigeon with his fork and dumped it on his plate. ‘We’re lucky if we get good meat and fresh vegetables three times a week.’

  ‘How do you manage all this?’ Magnus enquired. He had tanned, leathery skin and the steel-grey eyes of a carnivorous lizard. He eyed the gold dishes and cutlery with envy, and tried to hide his curiosity. The Chieftain’s ability to acquire wealth, fine foods and wine was a constant mystery to him.

  The Chieftain eased back in his chair and looked thoughtfully at his three guests. They were the Tribunes, the much-feared rulers of Old City. Men whom he disliked and held in complete contempt, though he would never admit this out loud, even to O’Bray.

  ‘It takes hard work, gentlemen,’ he said. ‘When you’ve been trading and travelling as long as I have, you make contacts. And gold always helps. Speaking of which, there will be the usual gifts for you gentlemen to take home with you today.’

  The Chieftain nodded to O’Bray, who hurried across the room to a covered trolley. ‘O’Bray, if you please!’ the Chieftain ordered.

  O’Bray bowed, and then with an exaggerated flourish, whipped away a fine, embroidered cloth to reveal three piles. Each pile contained fifty gold finger bars, three golden horn-shaped beakers and three baskets of gold coins.

  The Tribunes gasped in unison.

  ‘Trinkets from antiquity for you to do with as you please,’ the Chieftain said. He clicked his fingers. ‘Bring them over, O’Bray, let my friends get a closer look.’

  As O’Bray pushed the trolley towards the table, Tyrone whispered to his lizard-like neighbour, ‘Did you hear that? He thinks we’re his friends.’

  Cyrus smiled, turned to the Chieftain, and pointed to the trolley. ‘These golden horns, they’re superb.’

  ‘I believe they’re from a medieval castle in Bulgaria,’ the Chieftain said vaguely.

  Unable to keep their hands off their gifts, the Tribunes rose from their chairs and began to inspect the gold on the trolley.

  ‘If I may have a word with you, boss,’ O’Bray murmured in his ear.

  The Chieftain excused himself, left the table and followed O’Bray to the far side of his reception room. O’Bray glanced over his shoulder, ensuring the Tribunes could not hear their conversation. ‘Firstly, your guests sent their thugs on a raid into the forest today. To your part of the forest.’

  ‘I saw the airships passing over.’ The Chieftain gritted his teeth. ‘And after I pay them so well to stay off my patch.’

  ‘They go where they like,’ O’Bray muttered, eyes to the ground. ‘Just to exercise their power.’

  ‘Just to show they can,’ the Chieftain added.

  ‘And secondly … the mission to Sumatra has failed.’

  ‘How could that happen? We planned it so carefully!’

  O’Bray hesitated. He hated delivering bad news. The Chieftain would sink into a foul mood, and worse, he would take away the bonus that O’Bray had come to enjoy after every successful mission. But there was no holding back what he had to say.

  ‘Damien reported that most of the gold was already gone,’ O’Bray said. ‘He and Lee found only a few kilos of coins that had spilled into the sea. They bagged the coins and brought them back, so we do have something for our efforts. But the bulk of the treasure had already disappeared.’

  ‘This is a disaster!’

  ‘I’m sorry, boss.’

  ‘Sorry won’t do, O’Bray,’ the Chieftain snarled. ‘How am I supposed to maintain this fortress, pay the guards, and pay for the power I need for our missions? How do you expect me to keep paying the Tribunes?’

  ‘There’s something else,’ O’Bray said, ignoring the Chieftain’s outburst.

  ‘Very well, I’m waiting.’

  ‘I was outside earlier, talking to one of the Tribune’s top men. A man we often pay for information.’ O’Bray’s black eyes narrowed. ‘It seems that two strangers, two young people in bizarre uniforms, have been captured outs
ide Old City.’

  ‘And why would this interest me?’ the Chieftain snapped.

  O’Bray kept his voice down. ‘It’s their appearance. They were disguised in overalls, but wearing a type of thick bodysuit underneath. From what my source told me, and from what I can work out, they’re something like the travel suits you supply to Damien and the others.’

  The Chieftain nodded thoughtfully.

  ‘But there’s more. One of their security people reported that both these youngsters said they were time travellers. The security man joked about it, but … well, I thought you might like to know.’

  The Chieftain frowned. ‘An interesting remark. Even if it was a joke.’

  ‘Exactly what I thought, boss.’

  The Chieftain glanced at his guests. They were so busy pawing their gold that they didn’t seem to notice their host’s absence. ‘Do the Tribunes know about this yet?’

  O’Bray shook his head. ‘No. They will find out soon, but no one wants to interrupt their entertainment right now.’

  ‘Well, find out more about these travellers. Find out all you can,’ the Chieftain said quietly. He gave O’Bray a curt nod and returned to the table. ‘Eat up, gentlemen!’ he cried expansively. ‘Have some more wine. Go ahead, enjoy yourselves. Please!’

  24

  The airship jolted as it came to a halt at the end of a half-hour journey across the Big Forest. Footsteps pounded and voices yelled outside as the ship was secured to the docking tower.

  ‘Stand up, you two!’ a black-uniformed guard barked.

  ‘I guess this is it,’ Simon said, getting to his feet.

  Danice rose with him and together they stepped to a window and looked out.

  ‘Doesn’t look much like a farm,’ Simon said.

  Below, there were dozens of factory-like buildings, with large, cleared patches of land beyond. The entire compound was enclosed by yet another monumental razor-wire fence that stretched for kilometres to the north and south.

  ‘Move out!’ the guard ordered.

  ‘Where do they get the wire for all these fences?’ Danice muttered.

  ‘What difference does it make?’ Simon shrugged, stepping from the doorway of the airship onto the docking tower. ‘The fences are either keeping us out, or keeping us in.’

  ‘Down the steps!’ the guard directed them.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Simon asked.

  ‘You’ll find out soon enough,’ the man replied.

  At the bottom of the tower, they were pushed through a gate, across a yard, through a door, and then into a poorly lit office. The air in the room was stale and stank of stewed coffee and burnt food. A messy stove and a pile of grubby pans in one corner suggested that this was where the smells came from … until Simon spotted a plump unshaven man in a uniform so stained and dirty that it looked like he might be the main source of the rank odours. The man peered at them over the top of his spectacles and waved towards the far wall. ‘Take a seat. You’ll be dealt with soon!’

  As Simon and Danice made their way to a wooden bench, a phone rang. The officer picked it up.

  ‘Yes, Tribune. They’re both here now,’ he said. ‘Oh, I see, spies, eh? What, from England, Europe?’

  ‘We’re spies now?’ Simon whispered.

  ‘They probably think we’ve been spies all along,’ Danice said.

  ‘I suppose we are, in a way,’ Simon murmured.

  ‘Yes, I see,’ the man said. ‘They’re too much trouble … Very well, I’ll deal with it, Tribune … Yes, don’t worry.’ He hung up. ‘So, what am I to do with you two, eh?’ he said, turning to grin at them.

  ‘Well, sir, we’d be happy to leave. Any time,’ Simon said. He sounded much braver than he felt.

  ‘Shut up!’ the officer grunted. ‘It’s your job to stay quiet and do as you’re told.’ He grinned again to show his broken teeth. ‘You’re going to provide us with entertainment.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Simon asked.

  The official ignored Simon and rang the bell on his desk. A guard opened the door and stepped in.

  ‘Take these two spies to the main cell block,’ the officer barked. ‘And have the pond prepared for tomorrow morning.’ He stood up and rubbed his hands gleefully. ‘At seven a.m. you will assemble the prison population for one of our little shows.’

  The guard couldn’t conceal his excitement. ‘Another show? Great! Yes, sir!’ he said, with a beaming smile. ‘We’ll be ready, sir!’

  Simon turned to Danice. ‘What pond? And what do they mean by entertainment?’

  ‘I’ve never heard of ponds or entertainment around here,’ she replied. ‘But it sounds bad.’

  ‘I don’t think they like us much,’ Simon said as they were manhandled outside.

  On the Time Bureau’s tracking screen, the two red dots pulsed south-west of Old City.

  ‘What are Simon and Danice doing out there?’ Captain Cutler wondered. ‘They’re supposed to be in the city, or near the Chieftain’s fortress.’

  Harry studied the vision stream from the twenty-fourth century. ‘No idea, sir. Once you get off the cliff escarpment, there’s a huge area of the Big Forest, west and south of the city. Simon and Danice are in a position even further south, about thirty k’s from the city, in a cleared section of the forest. It looks like some sort of agricultural zone. We think there may be farms there that supply the city with food.’

  ‘And what is Simon and Danice’s status?’

  ‘They’re stationary at that location.’

  ‘Very well,’ Cutler said. ‘We should prepare to move the TPS and the timeline to this new position. Time’s running out for this mission and they might need quick access.’

  ‘I’ll have it readied.’

  Cutler stared thoughtfully at the screen.

  ‘Anything else, sir?’ Harry asked.

  ‘We should have Nick, Taylor and Ivan put on mission standby.’

  ‘You sure, sir? They haven’t had their Down Time,’ Harry said.

  ‘They’re fit and young,’ Cutler replied. ‘I’ll get the medical staff to give them boosters. And they can have double Down Time on their return.’

  Harry glanced with concern at the captain. ‘Are you worried, sir?’

  Cutler nodded. ‘There’s the possibility our two young temponauts are in trouble. What sort of trouble I don’t know. But we had better be ready for anything. It is essential this mission succeeds.’

  Damien sipped a cup of hot tea and listened as his father addressed a gathering of the Underground members in the basement of his house.

  ‘Welcome! I’m glad we’ve all managed to get here at such short notice,’ Bigdad said. ‘And I’m glad our organisers could make it, because I think it’s time for some positive action.’

  ‘Yes! Yes!’ a few voices replied.

  A young woman got to her feet. She wore a determined look on her face. ‘Do you mean we should proceed with our plans to steal the airship?’

  ‘Action has been on our minds for a while now,’ Bigdad went on. ‘We’ve often discussed how we need to contact the people in the Far Lands. We’ve all heard stories about their freedoms, and of how they govern themselves. And also of how they’re willing to help other people achieve freedom, too.’

  There were murmurs of assent around the room.

  ‘But before we make any further plans, we need to find out if the stories are true. And visiting the Far Lands is the best way to do it.’

  ‘That’s why we’ve been keeping an eye on that docking tower in the north of the city,’ the young woman said. ‘It has the smallest troop of guards, and we know their routine down to the last minute. We know when to strike!’

  The room broke into applause.

  ‘Then this is our plan,’ Bigdad said, indicating a bearded man in a woollen cap. ‘Peter will gather together as many people as he can and stir up some unrest in the city plaza.’

  The bearded man nodded in reply.

  ‘Just enough to distract the Tr
ibunes,’ Bigdad elaborated, ‘and to get them to commit a few hundred soldiers and guards to control the situation. While that happens, I’ll take a smaller party up to the docking tower—and we’ll do our best to take that airship.’

  ‘Hear, hear!’ a dozen voices replied.

  ‘I’ll send word when we’re ready to move.’

  ‘Death to the Tribunes!’ the bearded man said, leading another round of applause.

  The room immediately began to buzz with conversation.

  Damien took the opportunity to approach his father. ‘I thought you were going to ask if anyone had seen Danice since she and Simon left this morning?’

  Bigdad drew him aside. ‘I decided it mightn’t be wise. Some of them know Danice, but none of them know Simon,’ he said, ‘and there’s no point alarming people with stories of time travellers. Or trying to explain it, for that matter.’ He managed a smile. ‘Remember, it took months for me to understand what you, Danice and Alli were doing for the Chieftain.’

  ‘We don’t have to tell them the whole story,’ Damien said. ‘We just need to know if Danice is okay!’

  ‘We can’t simply say that Simon has appeared out of nowhere,’ Bigdad said. ‘It’s better not to bring up the subject at all.’

  Damien scowled. ‘If you’re not going to do anything, then I’ll go and look for her on my own.’

  ‘No, I want you to stay,’ Bigdad said. ‘I promised Danice I would stir up some trouble and hopefully keep some attention away from her and her friend while they do what they have to.’ He shrugged. ‘Whether it will work, I don’t know.’ He put a reassuring hand on Damien’s shoulder. ‘But our plan serves two purposes. We need to take this airship in any case, and to do that, I need your support. Stay for now, please. By staying, you’ll be helping Danice in the long run.’

  The night closed in and a misty rain drifted down on the cell block. Simon stared out through the barred window and watched the bright droplets dance in the searchlights that constantly moved across the walls outside.

  He had been thinking about escape from the moment they’d been locked in. But the cell block was constructed of solid stone and steel, and it would take heavy tools, if not a bulldozer, to make so much as a mark on the walls.