by KW Jeter
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 sh
ared 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 any 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."
"You refused before to divulge our destination," I said. "Will you tell us then who it is we're going to see?"
"Forgive me for toying with you so cruelly. I don't wish to play cat-and-mouse with your questions and my answers, but I have my orders. Suffice it to say that you will soon be face to face with one who is not a Morlock such as I, but who nevertheless leads our plans to invade your time."
"Merdenne?" I said. "Is that whom you're speaking of?"
"Merdenne!" scoffed the Morlock officer. "That fumbler! Whatever happened to him he no doubt walked right into. No, he's not the one. But that's enough – I can say no more. Relax and enjoy this little excursion. It will soon emerge from this monotonous corridor and become more pleasant." He evidently relished the irony his politeness made in the face of our situation.
His words proved true in a short time. The little cab in which we rode reached a terminal point on the subterranean rail line, and we dismounted. An elevator, subject to stalls during its upward progress, took us to the surface.
It was late evening when we stepped out into the open air, but how good even the muted scarlet rays of the sunset felt upon my skin! My lungs drank in the air uncontaminated by the underground's clamminess and filth. The grim hope sprung up in me that, whatever the fate the Morlocks had in store for us, we would be allowed to meet it out in the open rather than in some fetid chamber in the Earth's dark bowels. A spasm of horror at the thought of an underground death coursed through me, then passed away as I forced myself to observe the landscape around us.
The Time Machine's inventor had described it accurately. This far-advanced age had transformed England into a sylvan park, the beauty of which belied the hideous activities of the Morlocks below the surface. Trees and lush-grown, rolling hills, and not one stone upon another to show that the great city of London had once stood here. All that was past.
"Where are… the other people?" I said. "I can't remember what the fellow said they were called."
"The Eloi?" said Col. Nalga. He and the group of Morlock guards had put on dark blue spectacles to shield their eyes from even the sunset's dim light.
"Yes, that's right. That's the name."
"I'm afraid that the fellow who told you of them actually observed our culture at a slightly earlier period than this. At this time we do not allow our valuable food source to wander freely around in herds. We use pens."
For a moment I was stricken with revulsion at this bold-faced statement of cannibalism. But then I reasoned that it would make as much sense to accuse a lion or other wild man-eater of the same crime. An animal such as that seemed as related to us as the Morlocks were – that is to say, not much. No, the process of evolution had made them into a separate species. No matter what our common origins might be, they were a breed apart. And as such, if I could have raised my hand to strike down the whole lot of them I would have done so with no more remorse than that felt by some rural vermin-hunter of my time toward his prey.
As the skies darkened we proceeded a short distance to the bank of the Thames, now a clear, sweet-smelling flow of water rather than the refusechoked lane of commerce it had been in my day. At a small dock a boat was waiting for us. We boarded and headed out to the channel. As the craft cut through the water I looked away from the gloating faces of our captors and up into the night sky. Over the centuries the stars had slowly shifted their positions. None of the constellations I knew from my time were still recognisable in the heavens. Those too were past, lost in the ocean of Time. Beside me, Tafe leaned over the rail and spat into the water.
I fell asleep with my back against the rail, and woke only when we reached the shore of the European continent. Another transfer was made, this time to a train much like the ones I had known. At its head, however, was the same oddly humming type of engine. T
afe and I were placed in a compartment with two narrow bunks in it. "Relax and rest yourself, dear friends," said Col. Nalga as he closed the compartment's door. "You have yet a long journey ahead of you."
The door proved locked from the outside when I tried it. The windows as well had been sealed over with a heavy metal plate, except for a small ventilation space at the bottom.
"Paranoid bastards," said Tafe. "What's so important that they don't want us to see?"
"Like most evildoers," I noted, "they have a penchant for needless secrecy. Fleeing when no one's pursuing, as it were." I laid down on one of the bunks and closed my eyes. The train's motion as it picked up speed lulled my thoughts. In a few moments I was back in the sleep I had started while crossing the Channel.
Dr. Ambrose was speaking to me, but I couldn't see him. All I could make out around me was a vast pattern of alternating black and white squares like a chessboard. I stood on one of the squares and in the distance other figures loomed, dark and mysterious. Fear will lose the game, said Ambrose's voice. Take courage… take the sword…
"Take it easy, Hocker! Just hold still and lay back. Jeez, are you awake?"