by Bob Mayer
It is Now. Zero Day in Zero Year. How we got to be here via the computer timeline?
1970: A new company called Intel unveils the Intel 1103, with the first Dynamic Access Memory (DRAM) chip.
1971: The floppy disk, allowing information to be share between computers, is released.
1973: Ethernet is invented to connect multiple computers.
1974: The first personal computers are released, including the IBM5100, Radioshack TRS-80 and the Commodore PET.
1975: The Altair 8080 is introduced as the first minicomputer kit and two dudes named Paul Allen and Bill Gates write software for it and start their own company, Microsoft.
1976: On April’s Fool, Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak start Apple, introducing Apple I, the first single circuit board computer.
1977: Radioshack’s TRS-80 sells out its 3000 copy first production run.
1977: Apple II.
1979: MicroPro International releases the first word processing program: Wordstar.
1981: IBM releases its first personal computer, Acorn, using MS-DOS.
1984: Macintosh.
1985: Windows.
1985: The first dot.com domain is registered, Symbolics.com .
1986: Compaq introduces the Deskpro 386.
1987: Only 200 domains have been registered in the past two years.
1988: The first major cyber-attack, the Morris worm, slows down computers to the point of being unusable—the inventor is convicted, and is currently a professor at MIT.
Victor let go. “The van is soundproof. I can make this a long night and in the end, I will get the information I require. You have no wallet, so you lied in the park. All you have is a dagger. You suddenly appear. You know of this Legion. What country are you from?”
Some things change; some don’t.
“I’m American.”
“You sound like one. CIA? Perhaps we are looking into the same thing?”
“How is that?” Ivar asked.
“If we are, you would know, would you not?” Victor reached out and Ivar flinched.
“Listen,” Ivar said. “Something is going to happen in there.” He indicated the displays of 60 Hudson Street. “Something I have to stop.”
“Indeed,” Victor said. “Why do you think I am here?”
The download gave Ivar a nugget. “You’re from Unit 8200, aren’t you?”
8200 was the Israeli Cyber Warfare Unit. It indicated the priority the Israelis placed on this new frontier of warfare that it was the largest unit in their army.
“No,” Victor said. “They sit at desks and eat pizza, like my former friend here. He was just an expedient contractor. He will not be missed. But 8200 pointed us here. I am Sayeret Matkal.”
The download informed Ivar that Sayeret Matkal was the Israeli equivalent of the U.S.’s Delta Force. Which reminded Ivar of—
Victor’s hand shot forward, grabbing Ivar’s shoulder and he applied pressure.
Ivar screamed and his body spasmed.
Victor’s hand was gone just as quickly. “I need answers. What do you think is going to happen here tonight?”
“I don’t know.” Ivar rubbed his shoulder, the nerves jangled.
“You say you are American. What unit?”
“It’s highly classified,” Ivar said .
“Of course. We are friends, Israel and the United States. Some times. When our interests coincidence. But when they don’t? We were recently contacted by the Americans about a possible link to the Negev incident. I thought you might be the contact. It’s obvious you are not.
“Here is the thing. The man who attacked the Negev Facility, this Legion fellow. He infiltrated to rescue someone. A man, a boy actually, only sixteen or so, named Lukas. Do you know this Lukas?”
“No.”
“What’s even stranger is that this Lukas, he was a failed suicide bomber. He had a vest, but he failed to detonate. We learned, too late, it was on purpose. He wanted to be caught. He wanted to be taken to the Facility. He wanted to be interrogated. Rather brilliant actually. He knew our Unit 8200 was the best. It could find out information and he wanted information. And once he got it, his friend, Legion, came and got him out. Do you know any of this?”
“No.”
“But you know Legion?”
“I know of Legion,” Ivar corrected. “That’s the name they all use.”
“Yes. We are Legion. What country are they from?”
“I don’t know.”
Victor rubbed his chin, studying Ivar. “I don’t want to hurt you but I will.”
“There is an enemy,” Ivar said, feeling his way. “An enemy to all of us. We call it the Shadow. Legion works for it.”
“Shadow Brokers?” Victor nodded. “That would make sense. Unit 8200 is constantly battling them. We believe they are Russian, of course. But they might also be ultra-national. Similar to Anonymous. But they don’t employ assassins.”
Ivar noted that Victor would check the surveillance screens every few seconds. “What is the connection between that and you being here?” Ivar asked, not bothering to clarify that he didn’t mean the Shadow Brokers.
Victor moved the closest mouse on the console and clicked on a file. An image appeared: Legion, on the street outside in daylight.
“This was picked up this morning; I should say yesterday morning. The same man who attacked our facility. He was doing a recon of 60 Hudson Street. That made us most curious. Which is why I was immediately sent here. That is who I want.”
“I want to stop him too,” Ivar said.
Victor nodded. “When Lukas and Legion had the information they wanted, they left the Facility. We later learned it appears they attacked one of your Black Sites. Also killing everyone.”
“What Black Site?” Ivar realized asking that was a mistake as Victor’s eyes narrowed.
“I do not think you are CIA or NSA. You are also a poor liar. And you are not trained well in covert operations. Who do you really work for?”
“I’m not at liberty to reveal that information,” Ivar said.
“Would you die before revealing it?”
“I’d prefer not to do either.”
A ghost of a smile touched Victor’s lips. “You are a strange man.”
“What were they looking for?” Ivar asked.
“They wanted the locationof a girl. It was strange. She had the exact same DNA as Lukas. Not even identical twins are a one hundred percent match. And 8200 tracked her down because the Americans were doing a search on her DNA, trying to learn who see was. It seems we both had a mystery on our hands. And everyone involved in it was killed in our Facility and your Black Site.”
“Who was the girl?” Ivar asked.
Victor moved the mouse and brought up a picture of someone Ivar immediately recognized. “Lara Cole.”
Zululand, Africa, 31 October 1828 A.D.
“They must all be killed, great King,” Eagle said. “All the Grendels and the other, the Aglaeca as it is called. Before she gives birth. Then there will be thousands of them.”
“You call me King,” Shaka said, “but you are not of my people. Who do you serve?” Shaka picked up his iklwa , blood dripping from the steel blade.
“I serve all people, King.”
“No one can serve all. One can only serve a single king. In my land, I am the All. ”
“Yes, King.”
Shaka had the iklwa on his lap, ignoring the blood. And the moans and gasps of those still alive on the stakes all around the knoll. Eagle had no idea how many there were, but at least hundreds. It was recorded that after his mother died Shaka killed 7,000 of his own people for not showing enough grief, but no one really knew. There were no native records of events and those by the few Europeans after the facts were second-hand accounts. Stories told them, often by those with a desire to bend history to their own agenda.
The most pressing issues though, were where did the Naga iklwa come from, who had the old lady been, and how many Aglaeca were gett
ing ready to spawn in the Valley of Death?
“You would already be dead if the witch had not prophesized your arrival and the arrival of the other.”
Other ? Eagle wondered.
“He came bearing a gift,” Shaka held up the iklwa . He pointed the blade at Eagle. “Only this weapon worked on the beast you call Grendel. My warriors’ iklwa could not penetrate.”
“How did you get—“ Eagle began, but Shaka wasn’t listening. He was talking to the only audience he cared about: himself.
“I will kill you because you are not Zulu yet you dare pretend to be one. How soon that death will come and in what manner, will be—“ Shaka fell silent as if he’d lost his train of thought. After a few moments he spoke. “I will burn you. You have scars from burning. So you will burn.” Shaka smiled, revealing the two protruding teeth. “I have a man who is good at burning. Very slow.” The smile faded. “But if you’ve survived burning before, then it be best to kill you another way. My mother would know.”
“The beast, King,” Eagle said, indicating the Grendel’s head. “How did you kill such a mighty creature? That was a great feat!”
Shaka didn’t seem interested in answering and turned as one of the impaled screamed. “They sound to me as if a young girl were singing to her lover. Yes, that is it. Death is my lover.”
There was the rumble of thunder in the distance. The sky was overcast and the night warm.
“Who gave you that weapon, great King?” Eagle asked.
“No one questions me,” Shaka said, but without energy. He slumped back in the throne. He looked down at the old woman in confusion. “Did you kill her? ”
“No, King.”
“She said two would come. She said there were beasts in the Valley of Death. One came with this gift.” He indicated the iklwa . “I had him held prisoner until I saw the Valley of Death with my own eyes. To see if beasts were there as she said. They were.” He lost his train of thoughts. “She had to die. She was a witch. But if she’d been a real witch, she would have saved my mother, wouldn’t she have?”
Had the old woman been an Agent-In-Time ? Eagle wondered. Or had she been from Pandora’s timeline? Did it matter?
Eagle dismissed all those concerns. The mission was to destroy the Grendel and Aglaeca.
Shaka jumped to his feet, thrusting his iklwa into the sky. “You will not take me! I have paid the blood debt. Now you send beasts for me? You will not have me!” He turned to Eagle. “Will you fight with me?”
Eagle went to one knee and bowed his head. “Of course, King!”
“I fight also,” a man with a strange accent shouted.
Eagle got to his feet.
A white man dressed in black leather breeches and tunic, carrying a spear and with a sword strapped to his side came out of the thicket of impaled. He walked up to Shaka and went to one knee, dipping his spear. “I fight the Grendel and Aglaeca with King Shaka. My life is to fight them and this is my last battle.”
Salem Massachusetts, 31 October 1692 A.D.
“Enough of the BS,” Lara said. “Why would Scout cease to exist? What’s going to happen? What is that Legion up to?”
“It’s here to stop you,” Pandora said.
Lara gripped the haft of her dagger tightly. “I said enough BS. You just said it wasn’t here for us.”
“It’s here to protect what the Shadow has already instigated,” Pandora said. “Thus it will stop you from interfering if you try. Come with me. I’ll show you.”
Without waiting for her assent, Pandora headed toward the slightly downhill path .
Pandora spoke as Lara hurried to follow. “Since you seem to have some of the Sight, you should know that we are sisters. Did Scout tell you that?”
When Lara didn’t say anything, Pandora continued. “We’re part of a long line that goes back to Atlantis. We have been known as priestesses and oracles and sibyls and many other names throughout the ages. Even witches.”
“Duh,” Lara said.
“You are very similar to Scout,” Pandora said. “But also different.”
Lara wondered how Pandora could stay on the path in the pitch black under the trees. But even as she thought that, she could make out the trace of the lighter dirt among the bushes and grasses. Her eyes were adjusting and she could see into the forest on either side. Everything was lit with a soft green glow. There was a faint red glow to the left and Lara realized it was a deer, bedded down for the night under some bushes.
Deer weren’t red.
But they were warm.
She looked forward. Pandora was glowing, red, with a blue halo flickering around the red.
“Far out,” Lara murmured.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. Just thinking out loud.”
“Thinking is good,” Pandora said. “I hope you do more than just think.”
“Stop,” Lara said.
Pandora looked over her shoulder, but didn’t halt. “What?”
Lara grabbed Pandora’s shoulder and pulled her back. “I said, stop.”
Pandora turned. “I don’t have time for your games, girl. We—“
Lara pointed. “Look.”
Pandora did as she asked. “What am I looking at?”
Lara sighed. “Can I borrow your spear?”
“It’s a Naga staff.”
“Yeah, can I borrow your spear?”
Pandora waited several seconds, then offered it .
Lara took the Naga and extended it forward, tripping the line across the trail. A log that had been precariously leaning against a tree thudded down.
“How did you know?” Pandora asked as Lara handed her staff back.
“I saw it.”
“But I did not,” Pandora whispered.
“That Legion dude wasn’t out wandering in the woods twiddling his thumbs,” Lara said. “You said he wasn’t here for us, but he is here for us. He wants to stop us. Well, me. I don’t know what your play in this is. So what is your play in this?”
Pandora was shaken out of her surprise. “The Shadow tried to eliminate your team on the last mission. But the Fates intervened. I knew your timeline was important, but I’m beginning to believe I might have underestimated that importance.”
“You think?” Lara said.
“I thought your timeline would produce the One that is written of in the prophecies, but it might be something else.”
“Yeah. Whatever. What is this One?”
“The One who will defeat the Shadow once and for all.”
“That would be nice,” Lara said. “A little more specific?”
“There is a legend that there will be one, of the line, a man, warrior, who will lead us to victory over the Shadow.”
“Why does it have to be a man?” Lara asked. “Does the legend say warrior or man or both?”
Pandora was quiet for a few seconds.
“For real?” Lara was astounded. “Didn’t occur to you a warrior could be a chick? Never seen Wonder Woman ?”
“How far does your Sight go?” Pandora asked.
Lara pointed. “About that far. Enough to see the tripwire.”
“Don’t toy with me, girl,” Pandora snapped. “This is not a game. This is life and death for entire timelines.”
“I have no fraking clue how far my Sight goes,” Lara said with heat in her voice. “I have no fraking clue about a lot of things. And I’m getting tired of word games with you. I can see why Scout calls you a pain in the ass. Why are you here? What’s going on? Why is Scout threatened by what happens here, now?”
“Who exactly are you?” Pandora asked.
Lara literally growled. “You start answering. Or else. ”
Pandora was amused. “’Or else’? Don’t threaten me girl.”
But Lara was suddenly distracted. “It wasn’t just Legion.”
Pandora was confused. “What?”
Lara was looking at the dark forest that surrounded them. “The evil. There is more than Legion. This
entire place is evil.”
“Mass hysteria will do that,” Pandora said. “Many of our kind have been the victims of witch hunts. Normal people fear what they do not understand.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Lara said, but she was still distracted. “It’s more than the village. I can sense that up ahead. People. Scared. Angry. There are other things out here in the forest. Evil, no, not all evil.” She paused, closing her eyes. “Death. Destruction. Hunger. It is all around us.”
Pandora turned her head to and fro. “Be more specific, girl.”
Lara opened her eyes. “The Shadow sent more than just Legion. Don’t you sense them?”
“’Them’?”
“The monsters,” Lara said. She shook her head. “Hallows Eve. Of course there will be monsters. I was warned and I told them. Here there be monsters.”
“What kind of monsters?” Pandora asked.
Lara ignored the question. “Tell me about the Sight.”
“Scout should have—“
Lara cut her off and there was something in her voice. “You tell me.”
Pandora answered before she was aware she was answering. “There are four levels or stages to the Sight. First. Awareness of self. Second. Awareness of others. Third. Awareness of the world. And last, awareness beyond the world. I am in the Fourth level. Scout is floundering about in the Third. I don’t know where you are.”
“You couldn’t see the tripwire,” Lara said. “What good does the Fourth Level do you?”
“I became aware the Shadow was going to open a bubble in time here and now. I am aware that whatever change the Shadow wants to make in this bubble is in motion. I am aware that the Legion who is here has the task of maintaining the momentum of that which has already been done.”
“And what has already been done? ”
“A young girl is going to die this morning,” Pandora said. “She is already on the way to death.”
“What does that have to do with Scout?”
“It’s Scout’s great-great-great—“ Pandora grew exasperated trying to number back ancestry. “Suffice it to say that she’s a direct linear ancestor of Scout’s. This girl dies, Scout never exists.”
“Oh,” Lara said. “Well, that isn’t going to happen. Not today. Not ever.”