by Bob Mayer
“You are Time Patrol,” he said.
It was not phrased as a question, but Ivar, who’d been in too many similar situations, decided to take it as one.
“No. I was—“
Legion sliced him along his left forearm.
“Frak!” Ivar screamed.
“Where is your HUB?” Legion asked as he sat next to Ivar and looked at the monitors.
“I don’t know.”
Legion’s hand moved so far, Ivar could barely follow, but the thin trail of blood along his other forearm bore witness to the wound and the instant pain.
“It’s blocked in my brain,” Ivar yelled. “I couldn’t tell you even if I wanted.”
“So you are Time Patrol,” Legion said.
It is Now. Zero Day in Zero Year. How we got here:
2006: MacBook Pro.
2007: Estonia government service computers are disrupted during a dispute with Russia over removal of a war memorial.
2007: iPhon e
2007: The U.S. Secretary of Defense’s email account is hacked by unknown foreigners.
2007: China claims Taiwanese and US hackers are stealing information.
2008: Databases of both the DNC and RNC in the US are hacked.
2008: Russian hackers attack Georgian networks.
2009: Israel claims Russian organized crime hackers paid for by Hamas, attacked its internet infrastructure.
Legion began typing on the keyboard, his fingers flying over it as fast as he worked a knife. Ivar tried to see what he was doing, but he couldn’t see the screen clearly.
“I understand blocking memory,” Legion said as he worked. “No pain can break that. But sometimes, pain serves another purpose.”
Ivar knew he should keep quiet, but he couldn’t help himself. “And that is?”
“For its own sake.”
Legion’s fingers paused and he cocked his head, looking at the screen. “This van is always within three blocks of the Western Union Building. It changes position every twelve hours and this city is so heavily populated, no one notices it. In a way, it is an Israeli spy outpost in broad sight.”
Legion began typing again.
Since he seemed talkative, Ivar decided to engage him in conversation, remembering someone lecturing during training about gaining the empathy of a captor if ever in that unfortunate situation. It had not worked well with Meyer Lansky or the killers of the St Valentines Day Massacre, but there was always a first.
“What are you doing?”
“What years did your teammates deploy to?” Legion asked. “You do know that, don’t you?”
“You know the years,” Ivar said, “since your Shadow opened the time bubbles.”
Legion spared him a glance. “A valid point. But I was offering a quid pro quo. You want information, you give information. Since you seem curious.” He shrugged, his attention back on the screen. “You cannot give me the information I want, so I will have to kill you. You do understand that?”
“I’d prefer if you didn’t,” Ivar said.
“The Israelis trust no one,” Legion said. He lifted his hands off the keyboard. “They invented Stuxnet in conjunction with the United States. But in coordinating that malware, the United States revealed its own capabilities to the Israelis. A tenet of combat is that every offensive development leads to the development of a new defensive capability. And then a new counter-offensive.” He pointed at the screen. “That is what I have brought up. A Zero Day vulnerability that has existed for years and has never been patched.”
“Vulnerability in what?” Ivar asked.
“The NSA’s own self-destruct,” Legion said.
“Self-destruct of what?”
“All the NSA’s programs,” Legion said. “PRISM, MUSCULAR, all of them. Not exactly destruction in the proper sense. In fact, the opposite. Opening them up to everyone. Everyone can spy on everyone once this Zero Day exploit is released. Unit 8200 did an excellent job developing it. All data will be open worldwide. Nothing will be encrypted. It even has a subroutine to break down prime number locks that credit cards use for secure transactions. And we know one cannot count on the better natures of human behavior to keep them from using the information for personal gain. It will be chaos on a global scale.”
Ivar was staggered by what that meant. All financial records, all utility controls, everything that touched the Internet could be touched by anyone on the Internet if this did as Legion said. It would mean the destruction of the world’s computer infrastructure, which essentially meant the destruction of civilization.
“A doomsday weapon the Israelis have held for several years,” Legion said. He typed for another few seconds then stopped. “Sitting here, in a van. In the middle of New York City. It is amazing how foolish people are.” He glanced at a clock. “It will only take twenty minutes to completely upload into the servers in the building. Then it will transmit and spread. And there will be nothing to stop it.” He hit a key. “It is uploading. This is as satisfying as the death from a hundred cuts. Not as bloody, but deeper and more devastating. It will cripple your timeline. It will--”
*****
“This the fellow?” Angus asked, tipping Frasier’s head with the toe of his boot.
Edith blanched. “Yes. That’s him. ”
“Know the other fellow?” He indicated Victor’s body, partially hidden under bushes.
“No.”
“Well, ye now know where your man went and what happened to him,” Angus said. “But I assume we be wanting to know who caused the poor soul to depart this mortal coil? Looks like knife work. Bloody knife work. Why were we following him?”
“He was supposed to meet someone,” Edith said, “but he lied to the Administrator about the meeting.”
“He met someone all right.” Angus was looking around. “Dawn’s not far off. Whoever did this isn’t too concerned about them being found. I imagine some poor soul walking his or her beloved pooch will stumble upon these poor fellows at first light. Give them something to talk about ‘round the old water cooler later in the day.” He became concerned as he saw the look on Edith’s face. “You ever see a killed person before, miss?”
Edith shook her head.
“I apologize for my flippant attitude, then.” Angus retrieved the gun from Victor’s severed hand. “High Standard .22. A classic.” He pointed at a Fedex van parked on Hudson Street. “Unless I’m mistaken, that don’t belong here this time of the early morning. Shall we?”
*****
The back door of the van flew open and Angus stood there, Edith behind him. “How are ye, lad?” Angus asked.
Legion was out of his seat, dagger in hand, facing Angus. “They send an old man? Your blood will—“
Angus fired once, the bullet entering Legion’s right eye.
Legion collapsed to the floor of the van.
“Only a fool brings a knife to a gun fight and then starts it by yapping instead of cutting,” Angus said as he climbed into the van. He placed the muzzle over Legion’s ear and fired again. “Gotta make sure.”
But it was sure as Legion’s body crumbled on itself, turning to dust.
“That be different,” Angus said .
“Are you all right, Ivar?” Edith asked, as she tried to staunch the blood flowing from the cuts on Ivar’s forearms.
Angus broke the zip ties.
Ivar ignored them both, jumping from the seat he’d been tied in to the one Legion had occupied. He saw the countdown.
19:47.
“It’s too late,” Ivar said. “The virus is uploading and we can’t stop it!”
Zululand, Africa, 31 October 1828 A.D.
“Great King?” Jager said.
They’d been marching through the darkness for over an hour. The terrain was undulating, covering in brush and rocks, but little vegetation. The impi had shifted into long columns, following behind Shaka. They were on a six-foot wide trail, heading west. The march was a steady jog, what the army Eagle had been trai
ned in would call quick time . The steady pace was eating up the miles.
Eagle was winded, but holding his own. The warriors behind him, and Shaka and Jager, were barely breathing hard. The download contained contradictory information about the ability of the Zulus to move quickly. Many modern historians debunked the stories of fast, overland movements of the large Zulu forces. Of course, they’d also been split on whether the Zulus wore leather-bottom sandals. Some claimed that Shaka had forbidden them, requiring his men to toughen their feet. On the opposite side were those who said Shaka made losing one’s sandals a capital crime.
Eagle sided with the latter. Going barefoot was just dumb and while Shaka was obviously deranged, he was not stupid. There was also the fact that Edith had directed the support people to equip him with sandals. Edith Frobish did not get history wrong. The thought of her brought a smile to Eagle’s lips, but he shifted his attention to Shaka as the King looked over at Jager.
“What is it?” Shaka replied.
“I can tell you the vulnerabilities of these monsters. Where your warrior’s iklwa can do damage, King. ”
“Speak.”
“The armpit allows one to wound it,” Jager said, “but will not kill it. The roof of the mouth is fatal if driven into the brain. There is a weakness on the back of the head, at the base—“ Jager indicated on his own head—“that kills outright. But one must angle the thrust exactly and with great force.” He indicated with his spear.
All this was done as they continued their steady jog.
“The Grendels are killers,” Jager continued. “They will guard the females, the Aglaeca, to the death. The Aglaeca like to lay their eggs in water, in places they dig out of the banks. All must be destroyed. Almost all that hatch will be Grendels, fighters, but a small percentage will be Aglaeca, able to produce more. They give birth at a very fast pace. They all grow fast. From birth to full size takes barely a week for a Grendel. Even the new born can fight immediately.”
“What else?” Shaka demanded.
“Those are the important things, King,” Jager said. “None must be left alive.”
Shaka yelled and several Zulu officers came racing up. He relayed the information.
Jager moved over next to Eagle. “You are not Jager. You are not Zulu. You know of Naga steel and are armed with it. Who are you? Who was the old woman who prophesized our arrival?”
“Does it matter?” Eagle replied. “We have the same goal. Kill the beasts.”
“It matters,” Jager said, “if you are not of the here and now. This timeline.”
“I am of this timeline.”
“The now?”
Eagle didn’t respond.
“How do I know you aren’t from the Darkness?” Jager asked. “Sent to kill Shaka and stop his army?”
“Then he would already be dead,” Eagle said as the download confirmed that the Jagers called the Shadow, the Darkness. “I would have never allowed him to issue orders to his warriors. How did you learn to speak Zulu?”
“I was given the gift,” Jager said.
“By who?”
“She who sent me here. One of the Norns .”
“A Fate? ”
Jager shrugged. “There are three Norns . They determine our destiny. Not just that of men, but of the Gods also. They abandoned my timeline to the monsters and the Darkness. It appears they favor your timeline. No one can understand the ways of those beings.”
“A Norn sent you here?”
“Yes. She told me what I would face. And that I needed the help of these warriors. She gave me the tongue to speak with them.”
“Do you trust her?” Eagle asked.
“I am here. It is not a question of trust.”
“What is it then?” They were heading into country that was more broken. There was the faintest hint of dawn behind them, a smudge of grey in the dark sky. Thunder still rumbled occasionally and Eagle could see flashes of lightning ahead.
“It is destiny,” Jager said. “It cannot be changed. Even as we fought the Darkness, there were many who felt it was Ragnarok. And it was.”
Edith had not added Norse mythology in the download for this mission and Eagle could give her a pass on that. He had some fleeting knowledge of it. Ragnarok was the Norse version of the Apocalypse.
“There is truth in all mythology,” Eagle said.
“’Mythology’?” Jager spared Eagle a look of disdain. “It is everything. It is all truth.”
Eagle noted that ridges were rising on either side and they were being channeled between them.
Shaka held up a hand and the long column of Zulus accordioned to a halt.
The Zulu King’s top officers gathered tightly around him. Eagle and Jager were on the outside of the circle and couldn’t hear the orders he was rapidly issuing.
The circle broke up, the officers running back to their impi . Shaka pointed his iklwa at Eagle and Jager.
“You come with me.”
The columns were breaking apart. Some impi moving off into the darkness left and right, but the main group followed as Shaka advanced into the valley. The ridgelines came closer, until there was only about fifty feet of space between them. The storm ahead was increasing in intensity, lightning flashing every few seconds, thunder rumbling. The first patter of raindrops struck .
“The Grendel should be guarding this pass,” Jager said. “Great King, how many did you see when you were here yestrday? How far into the valley did you go?”
“You question me?” Shaka didn’t appear overly insulted. It seemed the prospect of imminent battle was returning some sanity. He pointed as they came upon dozens of bodies scattered on the ground. More accurately parts of bodies. Zulu warriors, torn to shreds. Most were missing pieces. “We met the beasts here last evening. These all died and I was only able to kill the one and then others were coming. At least ten. I withdrew. Because the witch had warned me of this place in her prophecy. I needed to see if it were true.” He stopped and looked at the two. “And here you are. This pass opens up wider, in four hundred paces. There is a watering hole. Many animals go to it, but they go through here which is why it is the Valley of Death.”
Jager was peering ahead. “The Grendel should defend in the same place. At the narrowest point.”
“Perhaps they are busy with something else,” Shaka said.
As he said that, the first screams came echoing back, bouncing off the cliffs on either side.
“The left horn,” Shaka said.
Eagle looked up at the almost sheer ridgeline to the left. “They climbed that?”
Shaka turned away and signaled an advance, along with another hand signal. The main column began to advance. The first impi began to spread out, shoulder to shoulder across the valley floor.
Thunder mixed with screams provided the somber score. Eagle was to the left rear of Shaka while Jager to the right rear. Behind them were thousands of Zulu warriors. Eagle realized the second hand signal had been for a silent movement. Instead of stomping the ground in unison, the Zulus were sliding forward on their leather sandals, leading foot barely coming off the ground then being put down softly.
“What did he mean left horn?” Jager asked in a whisper.
“Shaka has drilled his army to fight like a bull,” Eagle said. “Two horns. One on either flank. The bulk in the center.” He glanced over his shoulder. “He might attack with this full force, or a token force to draw the Grendels forward. Then his full force, the loins, will sweep forward, while the horns come in from the flank. He sent his horns up over the ridges on either side. He ordered his left horn to attack first, to draw the Grendels to them.”
“Ah,” Jager said and that was all.
A cacophony of thunder shattered the air as multiple lightning strikes lit the sky. The rain came down in earnest, the heaven’s unleashing a deluge.
The valley suddenly widened and the battlefield was upon them.
Eagle spotted at least a dozen Grendels ripping apart the much shorter
Zulu warriors of the left horn. The diversion hadn’t worked completely. A line of twenty Grendels was facing Shaka and his impi as they began to deploy at the mouth to the Valley of Death. Behind the monsters was a pool of water sixty feet across, half covered with reeds.
Shaka showed his leadership by charging ahead of his men toward the closest Grendel. Eagle was right behind him along with Jager. And over a thousand Zulu warriors were behind them.
The odds seemed with the attackers, but the reality was that the Grendels were genetically engineered killing machines. Twelve feet tall, covered in impenetrable overlapping green scales, they shredded the humans with four-inch claws. Their yellow eyes glowed with blood lust as they killed.
Shaka was jabbing at a Grendel with his Naga iklwa , trying to get inside the much longer reach of the beast. Jager and Eagle spread out, each attempting to get behind for a shot at the base of head.
The creature wasn’t only big, it was fast. It smacked Shaka’s iklwa to the side, then spun, the back of its hand coming at Eagle. He tried to duck, but the glancing blow sent him flying.
Eagle landed on his back, head ringing, body not immediately responding to his mental commands to get up, to get back into the fight. He lifted his head, seeing Zulus, blood spurting, flying through the air. Other trampled under, not only by Grendels, but by their fellow warriors, all anxious to get into the fight.
Piles of dead humans were growing around each monster. The left horn was almost completely wiped out, taking down only two of the dozen Grendels they faced.
In a flash of lightning, Eagle saw Shaka duck under a Grendel’s grasp and drive his iklwa up, into the beast’s armpit. Jager took advantage of that and slammed his spear into the base of the skull.
Eagle got to one knee as the Grendel crashed to the ground .
He took in the battlefront. Two more Grendels were down from the main assault, but Eagle sensed the rate of attrition was on the side of the beasts.
Then the right horn came charging from the right ridge, some of the warriors losing their footing and tumbling down. They almost made it to the watering hole, where the eggs were seeded, but two Aglaeca came roaring out of the slimy water, the last line of protection. They were bigger than the male Grendels, fifteen feet tall, with a ridge of black scales on the top of their heads, a foot high, sloping down along their back.