Morlock Night

by K. W. Jeter

  Our luck had held so far. The Morlock officer had communicated his belief in our statements to his higher-ups and our claim to being Merdenne's assistants had been accepted without a qualm by them. My spirits were greatly elevated at the prospect of successfully completing this stage of our quest with so little difficulty. Much still lay before Tafe and myself to be done, but at least the hope of accomplishing it had returned to my breast.

  Col. Nalga led us out of the officers' complex – several Morlock lieutenants and other officers saluted as we went by – and past the enlisted men's barracks. The enormous space that the Morlocks had excavated belied the fact that it was so far under the surface of the Earth. Somewhere above our heads Londoners were going about their business, all unaware of the desperate gambles we were pursuing beneath their feet. How I longed to be with those solid citizens in the English sunshine, or even the good cleansing rain, once more!

  Past the towering stockpiles of supplies and weapons went our little procession. Scores of the squat-bodied, less intelligent Morlocks were sweating like navvies as they scurried to and fro, pushing pallets of crates across the cavern's floor. Col. Nalga stopped and pointed with pride to the furious activity and the enormous amount of the stores. "You see?" he boasted. "And this is only the smallest fraction of our preparations. What chance do the puny surface dwellers have against an invasion force such as this?"

  I managed to suppress any sign of the chill that had condensed in my vitals at his words, and smiled back at him. "No chance at all," I agreed. "When Merdenne finishes with this small affair, I'm sure you'll sweep across England like a tidal wave." My own words felt nauseating in my throat.

  We went on toward the very centre of the Morlock encampment. Beyond the barracks and the stockpiles was an open space with a large square building in the middle of it. "This is where you're keeping the sword?" I asked as we approached the construction. "Seems rather conspicuous for a hiding place, don't you think?"

  An enigmatic smile formed on Col. Nalga's pallid face. "There is more to it," he said quietly, "than what you can see."

  With a key attached by a long chain lanyard to his belt, the Morlock officer unlocked a large panel on the side of the building and drew it aside. In the dimly lit interior I could make out the form of some type of mechanical apparatus that was the only thing occupying the space. "What is this contraption?" I said, somewhat annoyed. "I don't see any sword here."

  "Patience, Mr. Hocker," said Col. Nalga. He lit a lantern that hung down from the ceiling of the building. By its light I could clearly see the details of the apparatus and recognised it instantly.

  This was the Time Machine. Before us squatted the root of all the evil that had descended upon us, the device that had made possible the entry of a plague such as the Morlocks upon our green and undefiled land. My mind flew back to that long distant, or so it seemed, evening when the Time Machine's inventor had sat in his parlour and regaled his guests with the story of the Machine's creation and his subsequent adventures with it. The fool! If he had only realised what he was unleashing upon the world through his meddling with the laws of the universe. But no, he died happily ignorant of the final results, and it was left to us to reap the bitter storm whose seeds he had unwittingly sown.

  After my first emotional reaction upon seeing the Time Machine, I was able to note the many details that gibed with its inventor's description of it to his audience. The saddle, the gleaming control levers, the faintly shimmering section that seemed somehow unreal, the finely detailed workmanship all reinforced my conclusion. This could only be the Time Machine itself. How long would it be before a restrengthened King Arthur stood where I was and plunged the true Excalibur into the Machine's metal and crystal vitals?

  I suddenly realised that I had been staring at the apparatus for some time without saying anything. Col. Nalga was watching me intently when I turned to face him. "So this is the device Merdenne has told us so much about!" I gestured at it with one hand. "The scientific marvel that makes all our plans possible. I'm really quite pleased, Colonel, that you took the time to show it to us. You've satisfied a deeply held curiosity on my part, I'll have you know. But time is pressing, unfortunately, and I feel we should return to our business and move along to wherever it is you've hidden the sword. Shall we proceed then?"

  The same smile as before moved across Col. Nalga's face like a thin cloud across the moon. "I'm afraid I didn't make myself quite clear, Mr. Hocker. I said that our copy of Excalibur was not here, but could readily be fetched. To dispel the mystery, the sword has actually been taken to the far future through the use of the Time Machine here. My fellow Morlocks up ahead in our native time period have placed the sword in their safekeeping."

  Without wishing to, I blinked and stared at the Morlock officer. So Professor Felknap's suspicions had proved correct. "This- this is absurd," I stammered. "What's the idea of this continuous shilly-shallying about? I suggest you hop aboard that damned thing and go fetch the sword back here this instant!" My feigned wrath was the only cover I could create for the apprehension I felt at this new development disrupting the flow of events that I had been anticipating.

  "Please control your anger, Mr. Hocker." Col. Nalga held up a mollifying hand. "Our desire to safeguard the sword led to our decision to remove it from this time and take it to our own. Surely there is no fault in that?"

  "Perhaps not," I said, allowing myself to appear somewhat calmer. "But the moment has come to bring it back to this time, and with the greatest possible dispatch. Please do so. We'll wait for you here."

  Col. Nalga shook his head with every indication of regret. I'm afraid that our generals have ordered a different plan. It is their wish for you to proceed via the Time Machine to our native point in time and pick up the sword yourself from them." He raised his shoulders and spread his hands to indicate his helplessness in the face of his superiors' edict.

  "This is outrageous," I said, sputtering with exasperation. "We're here on direct orders from Merdenne himself, and we don't have time for this kind of foolishness from your lot of comic-opera generals. Just you go ahead and fetch that sword and if you need any defence for your actions I'll ask Merdenne to look after your generals as soon as he is able." I halted my outburst and glared at him with as much ferocity as I could summon. In truth, an overpowering fear of the Time Machine had sprung up inside me. The thought of being propelled by it through however many centuries lay between this time and that of the Morlocks filled me with the greatest apprehension I had ever felt. Our deception of them was apparently still in effect so I suspected no treachery on their part. But still I had no wish to sever the one link to normality that had remained unbroken through all the strangeness of the adventures through which we had gone.

  "I'm afraid that's not possible," said Col. Nalga, his voice flat and obstinate. "I have my orders and I must follow them."

  "Nothing," I said, equally insistent, "can induce me to have anything to do with that Machine."

  "I have something here that might serve to change your mind." Unhurriedly he reached into the breast of his uniform and pulled out a pistol of dull black metal. He pointed the even blacker snout of the gun toward us and took a step backwards in order to cover the two of us better.

  Before he completed the motion, I saw Tafe from the corner of my eye drop to the floor. The bark of Col. Nalga's gun echoed in the building as he fired at the half spinning, half rolling figure that came at his legs. The shot missed, and the next one rang against the building's metal roof as she collided with him. They fell together, each one's hands straining for control of the gun between them.

  I ran toward the wrestling figures, but even before I could reach them panels on all sides of the building slid open. Revealed in the doorways was an entire squadron of Morlocks training their rifles upon us. "Hold it right there," said the officer in command of them.

  Col. Nalga got to his feet, blood streaming down the side of his face from the place where a handful of his silvery
hair had been torn out by Tafe. "Get up," he ordered her from behind his trembling pistol. She did so with a sullen, defiant air.

  Blood seeped between Col. Nalga's fingers as he held his free hand to the side of his head. "Well, Mr. Hocker," he said, relishing his triumph. "Your little masquerade fooled no one. Chief assistants of Merdenne, eh? While we've known all along that you're both pawns of Dr. Ambrose! And in fact, we've been anticipating your arrival down here for some time. No, Mr. Hocker, your playacting has been a dismal failure. We're too many moves ahead of you in this game." He snapped an order to one of the Morlock soldiers, who then came up and tore the wrapped Excalibur from my grasp.

  "How- how did you know?" I asked the question with what I expected to be my last breath. The squadron of armed Morlocks had stepped into the building and formed a tight, rifle-bristling circle about us.

  "You'll see soon enough." He gestured toward the Time Machine, glittering icily in the centre of the area. "When you arrive at your, ah, destination. Shall we?" He stepped toward it, letting the crowd of Morlocks push Tafe and myself along behind him.

  10

  The Dark Castle

  The experience of crossing the future centuries to the Morlocks' native time was much different from that which the Time Machine's inventor had described to the guests in his parlour so long ago. Frequent use of the Machine had, as Ambrose had explained to us, created a channel between our time and that of the Morlocks. As the device could now only shuttle between those two points in the Earth's history, the speed of passage was greatly increased. The dizzying rotation of night and day, even if we had been on the Earth's surface, would not have been perceived by us. It was only a brief, nauseating sensation, as when a ship drops beneath your feet during a stormy Channel crossing, and we had arrived epochs away from our original time.

  Furthermore, the channel effect the Time Machine now possessed had also increased the amount of mass shifted by the Machine. Instead of just transporting a single rider upon its saddle and the small personal effects he carried on him, the Machine now took with it everything within a range of several yards. This was how the Morlocks had been able to move the enormous amount of supplies and weapons that they were stockpiling beneath London. Accordingly, Col. Nalga at the Time Machine's controls, Tafe, myself and a dozen or so Morlock soldiers guarding us – all arrived in the far future simultaneously.

  As soon as the disorienting jolt to my system had worn off, I looked about the area to which we had been transported. The same dim blue light prevailed as in the Morlock base underneath the London of my time. A marked difference existed beyond that, however. Now the area had the aspect of having been well-established and used for some time by the Morlocks. There was no building set up around the Time Machine, so that I could see the space beyond it was not a crudely hollowed out cavern such as we had left behind us, but was instead an arched vault constructed of gleaming metal panels. Like a limitless cathedral it seemed to extend in either direction. Along one side several carts full of supplies sat on a track of metal rails, waiting to be transported into the past from which we had just come.

  A group of Morlocks in slightly different uniforms stepped forward and took charge of Tafe and myself. We each had our wrists bound together with bracelets connected by a short chain. Our ankles were left unshackled so that we could walk. We were pushed away from the Time Machine until we were out of range of its effect. I looked over my shoulder and saw it shimmer, then disappear with the group of Morlock soldiers who had guarded us.

  Col. Nalga stepped in front of us. The blood from the wound Tafe had inflicted on him had dried into a crust on the side of his face. His pallid visage twisted into a sneer of contempt as he addressed us. "We shall all see each other again," he said. "I have business to take care of at the moment, and then there will be much travelling – in space, not time – before you reach your final destination. But I promise you I'll be there. Until then." He gave a mocking salute to us and turned on his heel.

  "Go to hell," said Tafe after him. One of our new contingent of guards scowled and barked an incomprehensible command at her. "You too," she replied.

  Before the interchange of words could go any further, a length of chain was fastened to our manacles and we, surrounded by our Morlock guards, were led away. The procession made its way down the arch-ceilinged corridor until we came to a smaller passage branching off from it. This in turn led to a small room, hastily converted from its storage function into a cell. The chain and manacles were removed from our wrists and then we were shoved inside the bleak chamber. The heavy door slammed shut behind us. It opened again long enough for one of the Morlock guards to throw a couple of threadbare blankets inside, then closed with a decisive clang. Tafe and I were alone.

  She paced the few yards that defined the room's width, then sat down on one of the blankets. "Doesn't look too good, does it?" she said, her voice almost casual.

  "You have a succinct way of assessing the situation," said I. "But I agree with you. This seems to be pretty much the end." After a few moments of reflection, my degree of self control no longer surprised me. In a way, it was a relief for the whole thing to be over. We had given it our best shot. There had been no action for which I now felt I could blame myself. Perhaps Ambrose had erred in not having picked someone of a more naturally heroic mode for his purposes. But I had done what I could, and felt guiltless. An infinite sadness and regret was in me for the bitter prospects that still lay ahead of the innocent world I had left so many centuries behind. I had no doubt, though, that that fate would be shared soon by Tafe and myself.

  Tafe's voice broke in upon my dark meditations. "What do you suppose is going to happen now?" she said. Her voice sounded singularly unemotional. Perhaps she had arrived at the same inner judgments as I had.

  "I have no idea." I gestured at the cubicle's bleak walls, illumined by a single blue sphere overhead. "Perhaps they have put us here and already forgotten us. This might very well be our tomb."

  "Didn't that Nalga say something about doing some travelling, though? I wonder where to." She mused on the empty space in front of her.

  "Who knows?" I said. "Their motivations can hardly be credited as human. For all I know they may intend to ship us to some victory banquet they are planning, and to serve us on silver platters with apples in our mouths."

  Our conversation ceased on that cheerful note. For a span of some hours we sat in gloomy silence, keeping our thoughts to ourselves. Starvation at least was not to be our lot, for one of the Morlock guards opened the door and deposited a tray bearing a carafe of water and a pair of flat, circular loaves of bread. After a moment's hesitation, wondering as to the origin of the food, we ate and drank. So passed an unknown amount of time, terminated when I at last fell asleep on one of the thin blankets.

  The sound of the door being pulled open roused me from a dreamless sleep. Tafe was already sitting up with her back to one of the chamber's walls, regarding our visitor. I righted myself and saw that it was Col. Nalga standing in the doorway with his retinue of Morlock guards standing just behind him.

  His repugnant sneer of victory was still congealed across his death-white face. "It seems," he said, "as if I'm not yet relieved of the responsibility for you. As I've brought you this far, it is now my duty to transport you somewhat farther."

  "And where might that be?" I said with stiff formality. However many triumphs he might be anticipating for his noxious breed, the Morlock officer remained an insufferable upstart.

  "You'll see soon enough," he said, the sneer turning into a wide and nasty grin. "If you two would care to step out into the corridor, our journey may commence."

  As we exited the tiny room one of the Morlock guards stepped forward with the manacles and chain we had borne previously. Col. Nalga waved him away. "I think we can dispense with those," he said, turning toward us. "I'm sure you both recognise the futility of attempting anything rash."

  Indeed, the close presence of the Morlock guards precluded a
ny chances of escape. And beyond that, where was there to escape to? We were irrevocably stranded centuries away from any succour. Our captors' mercy – a laughable notion – was our only fate.

  "Very good," continued Col. Nalga. "Come along this way, then." He led us to the lofty main corridor. There, on the metal tracks on which the carts of supplies ran to be loaded near the Time Machine, was a small passenger vehicle. Through its windows could be seen several upholstered seats arranged against its walls. An engine, not steam but some other type that emitted a low hum, was connected to the front of the little cab.

  "Get in, please," said Col. Nalga as one of the guards ran ahead and opened the cab's door. Tafe and I mounted up a set of folding steps and took our seats on either side of the compartment. The elegant appearance of the vehicle was much diminished upon close inspection. The leather of the seats was racked and split open, and the dark wood panelling was warped where it was not actually peeling away. Apparently this, like the Atlantean submarine back in the Lost Coin World, was an item that the Morlocks had salvaged from the remains of some earlier people. Perhaps it was an artifact of the last true men before they had died out and left the world to the Morlocks and the effete surface people of which I remembered the Time Machine's inventor talking. No wonder that the Morlocks, incapable of creating anything themselves, wished to plunder an earlier world's creations and resources.

  Col. Nalga and two of the guards climbed into the cab and took the remaining seats. The engine ahead whined and started to move. In a few moments we were rocketing, down the vaulted corridor at quite a heady rate of speed.

  "I hope you're not alarmed," said Col. Nalga. "But we have a great distance to go, and patience is not the long suit of those who are waiting for us."