The Chronocide Mission

by Lloyd Biggle, Jr.

  They were confounded—the enemy at the door, no alarm given—but there was no time to wonder what had happened, no time to ponder Gevis’s apparent treachery, no time even to indulge their astonishment. Egarn and Garzot hurried into the sleeping room where the opening to the secret tunnel was located. Inskel went to the instruments and set all of the controls askew before he hurried after them. Arne hung back until Inskel called that the others were safely away. Then, with one of Egarn’s weapons, he drilled several holes through the door—and through the Lantiff congregating beyond it. The tremendous crash of his weapon drowned out the screams from the room beyond. Then he followed Inskel.

  Inskel slid a panel into place behind them to conceal the secret entrance. His candle showed a tunnel stretching broadly ahead of them to a point where it curved out of sight—but that was a blind. The real escape tunnel was at one side, a hole barely large enough to crawl through. Inskel followed Arne into it. After they had inched their way along it for a few meters, he brought the ceiling down behind them. He did this four more times before they reached the end.

  But that was only the beginning of the labyrinth. They labored long through concealed tunnels and passageways, each with its artfully hidden entrance, before they finally arrived at the emergency quarters Fornzt had prepared for them.

  Egarn was still panting wildly from his frantic, panicky struggle through the narrow passageways. His chest was heaving violently; suddenly he pitched forward. Arne caught him, and Inskel pushed a chair into place for him.

  “What happened?” Egarn gasped.

  “Treachery,” Arne said grimly. “The one thing we couldn’t guard against.”

  “Treachery? Gevis?”

  “It would seem so.”

  “Why?”

  Arne shook his head.

  Now there were only four of them—Egarn, Garzot, Inskel, and Arne. They sadly agreed that everyone else must be dead or captured, but they had no time for lamentations.

  The room looked like the workroom they had just left except that it was larger, and there was no separate room for sleeping. Beds were placed along the walls. A small storage room had well-stocked shelves. There were large crocks of water. Fornzt had prided himself on keeping this—and an escape room on the other side of the ruins intended for the remainder of the team—ready for use.

  The instruments looked identical to those in the room they had just left except for one, a small box with a len. Inskel busied himself with it. He made an adjustment, made another, and suddenly an image formed on it of the workroom they had fled from. At that moment, the Lantiff finally broke in.

  The picture, of events so close in space and time, was surprisingly clear—far more so than any representation the large len produced. They watched with rage while the Lantiff poked into their possessions and gaped at the machines. Several went into the sleeping room and emerged a moment later, bewildered at finding no one there. More Lantiff entered. They began tapping the walls as though looking for hiding places.

  Gevis was brought in. In spite of the success of his treachery, his new masters had no fondness for him. They handled him roughly.

  Suddenly the Lantiff stiffened to attention. Through the door strode a stately female figure in a striking gold and black uniform. She was an old-young female—only Egarn could have guessed her age and he only because he knew her.

  “The Peer of Lant,” he murmured. “So she has actually come here. I wonder why. I wonder if she knew I was here.”

  Another female figure entered—equally tall, equally stately, wearing the same distinctively patterned uniform but in silver and black. Arne found a chair for himself and sat down heavily. “Now I understand,” he said. “It is Deline.”

  “Deline?” Egarn moved closer to the len and squinted at the picture. “That is the Prince of Lant.”

  “It is the former Prince of Midlow,” Arne said.

  “She is the Prince of Lant. I know the uniform well. Remember—I was once the Prince of Lant’s consort.”

  “Then the peer has adopted her,” Arne said. “I can’t say that I am surprised. A warrior peer would consider her an ideal warrior prince.”

  Gevis was brought forward. He spoke, gesturing with his hands. He was describing the machines—how they worked, what they did.

  Inskel swore an involved chain of oaths. “He knows, curse his foul soul. He knows how to operate all of them. I taught him myself.”

  “His knowledge won’t be of much use to him,” Egarn said. “He can’t interfere with Roszt and Kaynor—he doesn’t know how to look for them any more than we do. Anyone he sent into the past would be helpless—he wouldn’t have the language, and he would be snapped up at once as an alien or a mental case. Has the escape tunnel from this place been inspected lately?”

  “I will do that now,” Inskel said.

  “Please do. All of you—forget Gevis. We must get back to work.”

  He was trying to sound cheerful, but the exhausting escape and the loss of those who had looked after him for so long had broken him. Arne persuaded him to lie down and sleep. Even when he finally dozed off, he tossed fitfully. Grief about his friends, combined with the sudden appearance of a nemesis from his past, gave him nightmares.

  Garzot focused the large len on the DuRosche mansion. Arne continued to watch the small len. The peer and prince were questioning Gevis. When they didn’t care for his answer, one of the Lantiff stepped forward, shook him, and slapped his face. No one loved a traitor.

  Inskel finally returned to report the escape tunnel clear except for the exit. Fornzt had ended it a few feet from the surface; he didn’t intend for it to be completed unless it was needed.

  “You didn’t have one of these in the other workroom,” Arne observed, indicating the small box and len.

  “I made it to use while I was building these machines,” Inskel said. “Only Fornzt, Egarn, and I knew about this room, which meant there was no way Egarn could send for me if he needed me. I used this len to watch the other workroom while I worked. Then Egarn could signal if I was wanted.”

  “Will it show the present anywhere else?”

  “I suppose. All I was interested in was the other workroom.”

  “You could have followed the war from here—watched every battle.”

  Inskel shrugged. “We couldn’t have done anything to help, and it would have interfered with our work.”

  Garzot continued to watch DuRosche Court on the large len. Every few minutes he surveyed the nearby streets; then he searched the mansion’s grounds and briefly focused the len on its front door. It was high noon in Rochester, and very little seemed to be happening. Very little ever happened at DuRosche Court. Early each afternoon, Calvin DuRosche was taken down the invalid ramp for a brief airing. Mrs. Halmer pushed his wheelchair the length of the drive and back. Then either Mr. Kernley or the decrepit-looking handyman, Hy, helped her push it up the ramp again. Otherwise, Hy, and occasionally Mr. Kernley, did a little yard work. They were the only ones seen outside until the woman employees left for the day. Hy dug in the garden; he trimmed bushes; he raked some of the previous year’s leaves from places that were heavily overgrown. Whatever he did, he seemed to tire or loose patience quickly and move on to something else.

  The task of watching nothing happen quickly bored Arne, and he returned his attention to the scene in the old workroom. The drama being enacted there reached some kind of conclusion. Chairs were brought in. The peer, her advisors, and the prince seated themselves, and Gevis resumed his demonstration of the large len.

  “Deline may have noticed something suspicious about the ruins,” Arne said thoughtfully. “The Peer of Lant told her about Egarn, and since we have the weapon, they suspected Egarn was at work here and posted a watch—which caught Gevis on his way to the herders’ huts. Then the new Prince of Lant persuaded him to change sides.”

  Egarn was awake again. “Corrupted him into changing sides!” he snorted.

  “Well—” Arne smiled sadly.
“She can handle her wiles compellingly, and Gevis was already in love with her. All the young men in Midd Village fell in love with her when she was my assistant.”

  Egarn turned curiously. “How do you know that? Did the first server also hear confessions?”

  “He heard a great many complaints,” Arne said. “All of the young women complained about her influence on the young men. Gevis was in love with her, she left, his world was shattered by the Lantiff invasion, and he had nothing at all to look forward to except the end of everything when Roszt and Kaynor succeeded. Suddenly the Lantiff seized him, and he found he could choose between rewards and punishment. Not only were the rewards alluring, but he discovered he might have a future after all. What I don’t understand is why the Lantiff were slapping him. He gave them exactly what they wanted.”

  “That is the Peer of Lant’s way,” Egarn said sourly. “Her word is good—if she promised him rewards, he will get rewards. But she will also have him punished severely for not coming to her voluntarily.”

  They watched the dae pass in Rochester, and then another. On the morning of the girl’s funeral, a black limousine called at the mansion for those attending. After the funeral, it returned with them. Later, a young couple arrived. There seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary about them, but when the fat caretaker handed them something in a cloth, Egarn leaped up with a shout of dismay. A continuous flicker of light showed in it.

  “It is a len!” he exclaimed. “They have a Honsun Len!”

  Inskel focused on it as closely as he could, and they made out the fragment of black tube with a len in the end of it. “Part of Kaynor’s weapon,” Egarn breathed. “It broke off in the struggle.”

  They forgot their search for Roszt and Kaynor. Inskel kept the len focused on the weapon fragment all the way to police headquarters, where it was fingerprinted and photographed, and then to a suburb where an elderly, bearded man took charge of it. In a building behind his dwelling, he began to perform what Egarn recognized as scientific tests.

  “A scientist!” Egarn exclaimed. “It is the worst thing that could have happened! I wonder who he is.”

  Inskel managed to focus on the dwelling’s mail box. The scientist’s name, Marcus Brock, and his street number, were displayed in luminous letters that were dazzlingly clear on the len. Of course the name of the street wasn’t given.

  “This is terrible,” Egarn wailed. “Even if Roszt and Kaynor kill the inventor, there will still be an expert there who knows all about the len.”

  “Then they will have to kill him, too,” Inskel said indifferently. “But maybe it won’t be necessary. If we were to snatch it back—”

  “Do it! Now!”

  But the instrument had to be adjusted to the new location. Then the first attempts failed—perhaps one of the scientist’s instruments produced a temporal distortion. They were still trying when the young man they had seen at DuRosche Court called on the scientist. The left off their efforts and waited for him to leave—Egarn was reluctant to snatch things while people were watching.

  Their opportunity came when the older man turned off his instruments and escorted the young man back to his car. Inskel, with several quick passes, snatched the len, the clamp that was holding it, the piece of the weapon’s tube, and several of the scientist’s smaller tools.

  “That settles that,” Egarn said with satisfaction. “Not only do we have the len back, but the police have lost important evidence. If I had thought of this sikes ago, I could have equipped an entire laboratory with tools and equipment and saved myself a lot of trouble. Now—back to DuRosche Court!”

  It was late afternoon when Inskel managed to focus on a passing car with Roszt at the steering wheel and Kaynor seated beside him. The two men had taken the precaution of changing cars—this one was a more recent model than any they had owned previously. It even had an opening in the roof. Egarn thought it much too conspicuous.

  The scouts made a leisurely circuit of the neighborhood. Then, by a devious route, they drove to one of Rochester’s parks where they did nothing at all for a time. When they finally left, they went directly back to the DuRosche Court neighborhood and made another leisurely circuit.

  “They can’t see much from the car,” Inskel said. “Why don’t they walk?”

  “Too many people know their descriptions,” Egarn said. “They aren’t so recognizable in the car. They are being cautious and sensible, but I would feel better if they were miles away. I understand what they are doing, though. They are looking for something, but they are afraid they will arouse suspicion if they hang around the neighborhood too long. They must consider it important. I wish I knew what they have found out about this place.”

  In the old workroom, Gevis was conducting another demonstration. Peer, prince, and the peer’s high advisors were grouped around the large len, staring. Arne knew how they felt—he had stared himself when he caught his first glimpses of the past. He wondered what Gevis was showing them.

  Egarn was unconcerned about it. “At least it is giving the peer something to occupy herself with, and that keeps her from wreaking havoc somewhere else.”

  The afternoon waned; dusk set in. Roszt and Kaynor continued to make an occasional trip through the neighborhood. Not until it was completely dark did they park four blocks from the DuRosche mansion and set out on foot.

  Blending with every tree and shrub they passed, they moved slowly toward DuRosche Court. They were only a block away when they stopped abruptly and slipped sideways behind a bush. There they remained, motionless, while those watching the len stirred impatiently. Egarn said for the tenth time, “I do wish I knew what they are looking for.”

  Suddenly a parked car at the end of the block started up. Its lights came on, and it slowly moved away. It was a police car.

  Egarn took a deep breath. “Did any of you notice it? I didn’t. But they did. They certainly have developed their instincts. I don’t doubt they know what they are doing. I just wish I knew what it is.”

  Roszt and Kaynor didn’t stir for some time after the police car had gone. Then they began to move slowly, again blending with the shrubs and trees. They stealthily passed the entrance to DuRosche court and the drive to the house—both of which were well-lighted—and proceeded along the sidewalk to the break in the hedge where they had met the girl. They slipped through it and began moving across the grounds, two indistinguishable dark figures zigzagging from shrub to shrub through the darkness. They were approaching the house when Hy suddenly loomed beside them and swung his piece of pipe viciously.

  He was recognizable even among the indistinct shapes on the flickering len because of his short stature and white shirt. The dark figure closest to Hy jerked away, but the pipe hit him solidly on the arm and must have hurt. The arm hung limply. Hy dropped the pipe, grabbed him, and drew back his knife.

  Lightning flashed, impaling Hy and several bushes beyond him. Hy crumpled; the two dark figures slipped away into the night.

  The handyman must have screamed. Yard lights came on. Only seconds passed before a police car turned in at DuRosche court and came quickly up the drive. Mr. Kernley came from the house armed with a flashlight and probed about the grounds with it. The beam came to rest on Hy’s still body.

  Egarn said brokenly, “Now they really must leave Rochester—and quickly. Whatever it is they have found, they will have to leave it. It won’t be safe for them to be seen there again—not for sikes. The girl’s death could be written off as an accident, but this time they were trespassing, and the handyman was guarding his employer’s property. They are certain to get a long prison sentence. They can’t finish their mission now. They don’t dare.”

  20. ROSZT AND KAYNOR

  Roszt and Kaynor also realized their time had run out, but they knew better than to leave Rochester immediately. Egarn had taught them more thoroughly than he realized. To leave a motel room without checking out would attract attention. To check out in the middle of the night would attract attention.
Whatever the cost, they must avoid attracting attention.

  Inskel, having seen them park their car four blocks from the DuRosche mansion, had no difficulty in picking them up there with the large len and following them to their new motel, and a terse order from Egarn arrived at their room almost as soon as they did. They ignored it. They were certain they had escaped cleanly. No one could have noticed them or their car in the dark, and just to be certain, they had driven several blocks with their lights off before they took a circuitous route to the motel. They saw no point in altering a routine they had complete confidence in.

  And they were exhausted. They awoke at six the next morning and quickly packed their suitcases. Kaynor walked Val while Roszt went to the office to check out. When Kaynor returned, he put dog and suitcases in the back seat and drove the car to the office at the front of the motel to wait for Roszt.

  It was almost seven o’clock by then, a popular time for checking out, and Roszt had to wait in line. He exchanged pleasantries with the clerk—they had enjoyed their stay, he murmured, and hoped to return soon—pocketed his change and the receipt, and strolled out to the waiting car like a man without a worry to his name, not to mention a possible murder or two.

  The car rolled down the motel’s drive to the street, waited for traffic to clear, and then drove off. In the new workroom, Egarn finally felt able to relax. He had acquired enough of a feel for the city to know the two scouts would soon be on the network of expressways that ringed and bisected Rochester, and these would take them away from the city as rapidly as they cared to drive. Inskel made the necessary adjustments and followed their flight with the len.

  * * *

  A far more dramatic scene was occurring in the restaurant adjoining the office of the motel they’d just left. Alida’s friend Connie, the petite brunette, was a waitress there, and she passed the door just as Roszt strolled out to the car. She had read every description of the fugitives she could find, and somehow this character seemed to fit —whammo! And there was the second character waiting for him in the car! She set plates of food down on an unoccupied table and dashed outside. While Kaynor was waiting for traffic to clear, Connie hastily scribbled a license number on her order pad.