Blackbird: A Warrior of the No-When

by Martin Schiller

  With that, she pressed a glass of champagne into his hand, and we all took this as the signal to fill our own glasses and enjoy one another’s company. Naturally, the conversation centered around the business of flying, and everyone’s experiences with crashes. It turned out that all of my companions had had their share of bad luck, but like Manfred, took it in stride. Their upbeat attitude gave me hope for my own future.

  ***

  Barely a week transpired before our enemies were at it again--and they even had the audacity to attempt their nefarious business in the same spot on the River! After receiving a quick briefing from Hamilket, we rushed to our Phaseships, ready to do battle.

  Even Manfred came along; thanks to the vigorous efforts of the Professor and Ms. Meier, he had managed to recover most of his memories (although his Atlantean was still a bit halting) and he had insisted on being included.

  We wasted very little time transitioning into the No-When and once there, headed straight for our operations area. And, just as predicted, the Deviators were present--including the ace that had downed Manfred.

  While it was certainly his right to engage this pilot in single combat, he wisely deferred to his compromised condition and stayed with Ziva instead. As I saw it, this put the business of reprisal squarely upon my shoulders and I looked forwards to seeing my duty done.

  Unfortunately, the Deviators were in no mood for a fight. The very instant that we began our attack, they scattered like so many rats. My target chose to head for the River again, clearly intent on taking refuge in one of the centuries below us.

  I was not about to let this happen without offering them opposition though. I immediately closed the distance and stayed with my quarry, firing my chronoguns whenever it seemed that there was an opportunity for a good shot.

  Major Sixkiller tried to dissuade me. “Penny! Stay with us. Don’t follow ‘em.”

  But I did not listen. Having allowed the Deviator ace to escape once already, I was not about to leave things unfinished a second time. I was determined to see to it that this reptilian pilot learned a lesson that it would take them several lifetimes to forget.

  Entering the time stream together, the display informed me that we had come into the 2nd Universe in their 14th century, somewhere above the region of southern Serbia. Even as I thanked fortune that we were not in the Jurassic period or some other similarly dismal epoch, I let loose with my guns.

  None of my shots hit; the enemy pilot sent their ship into a corkscrew maneuver and their Phaseship danced away without incurring so much as a scratch. Still, I did not let this discourage me, and stayed with the Deviator ace as they dove nose first into the cloud layer.

  It was then that I spotted something on my ground display. In addition to markings that indicated geographical features, there was a small settlement below us--and a symbol. It was the neheh, and I knew right away that someone down there was a member of the Fellowship of Aion.

  Worse, it was abundantly clear that the Deviator was making straight for this area. I came to the conclusion that the pilot intended to attack the settlement and thus, add to their crimes by depriving us of an ally. Given that I was attempting to down their craft, this seemed to be pure madness, but based on all that I had heard and what my memories told me, the Deviators were not to be judged on the basis of human standards of rationality.

  I fired once more, and was denied any satisfaction as the Deviator performed another evasive maneuver and continued to fly towards the settlement. Then, to my absolute astonishment, the enemy craft abruptly descended and lost speed at the same time. I flew past them, and even as I processed this startling event, the Deviator regained altitude and took up a position directly behind my tail.

  The tables had been neatly turned and my enemy did not hesitate. ‘She’ fired (for I was now certain that even though the pilot was a reptilian miscreation, that they were also female, for only a woman could possess the cunning required to pull off such an evil trick).

  Her shots caught Blackbird squarely and the external displays showed the bolts turning the hull into corroded wreckage wherever they struck. At the same time, my power levels dropped and I found myself fighting to remain aloft.

  It was a losing battle and I knew that despite my best efforts, I was going to crash. At the very least, I would suffer the indignity of being stranded until rescue could come for me--and at the worst, I was about to die again.

  Neither option was terribly appealing.

  Desperate, I searched for somewhere to set down. The land below me was a mixture of cultivated fields intersected by dense stands of trees, and in one spot I spied a complex of buildings, the largest of which had a tall spire surmounted by a metal cross. It was a religionist church, I realized, or even a monastery of some sort.

  Before I could contemplate this any further, my enemy fired, and in so doing, deprived me of a maneuvering thruster. As if it were some kind of magnet, my craft began to head straight for the spire and it seemed rather likely that I would shear it in twain when I made contact. Beneath me, people in the surrounding fields were either pointing upwards, or doing the sensible thing and running for their very lives.

  “We need altitude,” I told my ship. In another second, we would hit the tower dead-on.

  “Vectoring reserve power to the engines, Penny,” Blackbird responded. The ship vibrated in response and her nose rose just enough to assure me that we would miss the majority of the structure, but not the topmost section. That part was doomed, and whoever owned the tower was about to lose its roof. I only hoped that it would not make them too terribly cross--assuming that I even survived this misadventure.

  A hellish cacophony reverberated through my craft as my prediction came true, and on the forward displays, pulverized masonry and roofing tiles flew in all directions, or simply disintegrated when we smashed into them. Miraculously, the cross survived the impact, but pin-wheeled through the air out of view, undoubtedly causing its own fair share of destruction as it plummeted to the ground.

  Another blast from the Deviator’s guns reduced what remained of my engines into so much rust and my Phaseship became an unpowered missile, clearing the remaining religionist buildings but plowing through a group of trees. Fortunately, there was a tilled field beyond this, and our angle was such that we landed belly first and skipped across the earth like a stone, leaving a jagged trench behind us as we went.

  When we came to a halt at last, I caught sight of the Deviator, ascending back into the sky and thumbing her nose at me with a saucy little victory roll. This elicited a rather unladylike curse from me which I will not deign to repeat.

  Although I was no longer in any danger from the enemy Phaseship, I now had a new problem to reckon with. Several of the local inhabitants had recovered from their astonishment and were running in my direction. To a man, they were armed with farming implements. Not a great threat certainly, but still not the outcome that I had desired. My mechanica, true to its purpose, came to life at this, and released itself from its cradle, clearly intent on defending me and my stricken craft.

  Horrified at the thought of what it might do to the indigenes, I unharnessed and interposed myself between it and the egress hatch.

  “Halt, you brute! They have not attacked us. I order you to remain within the ship unless I signal otherwise. Do you hear me?”

  The thing stopped in its tracks. “N'che se'dem,” it responded, “I obey.”

  Satisfied, I opened the hatch and stepped out, making certain to keep my hands clearly in view (but also taking the precaution of unsnapping the holster of my chrono-pistol).

  The man leading the natives wore a rather large cross on a chain around his neck, and was attired in a severe looking black robe. Seeing me, he held up his right hand, splaying his fingers wide.

  My luck had returned. He was a member of the Fellowship of Aion, and I immediately mirrored the gesture.

  Then he spoke in a voice just loud enough for me to hear. It was in Atlantean.


  "As!Apa' ge net'er hamhet.Dixa nad'en ne'n ixta'tet,” he warned. “Quickly! Take off your helmet and show them that you are no demon!”

  I did as he instructed, making certain to undo my hair and shake it out. The sight of this made the men behind him stop in their tracks.

  “This is a servant of the Lord,” he declared in Albanian, “who drove the devils from our skies.”

  My earpiece, which was connected wirelessly to Blackbird, translated his words for me, and it was clear that he was touting me as some kind of supernatural being. His ploy worked, for all of his companions made religious signs over themselves and backed up several paces.

  He addressed me again in Atlantean. “Are you all right, pilot?”

  “I am quite well, thank you,” I responded. “And I deeply apologize for damaging your building. Is everyone unhurt?”

  Looking past him, I could see that I had made an awful mess of it. Where Blackbird hadn’t so much as a mark on her (absent the hits scored by the treacherous Deviator), the top of the tower had been completely obliterated, and the cross was buried in the earth and badly mangled.

  “All is well,” he assured me. Then he switched back to Albanian for the benefit of the crowd. “We have been delivered from the fiends of hell by this Angel sent to us by our Lord. Let us show our gratitude to Him by making his messenger welcome until He calls her back to Heaven.”

  Evidently this was just the thing, for the men formed a cordon around us as we left the crash site and began to walk towards the buildings. It was clear that they intended to protect us in the event that the ‘devils’ returned to finish the job. None of them I noted, seemed to want to make eye contact with me though. Clearly, whatever an angel was, it commanded great respect.

  “We will have to get you out of sight until your rescue comes,” the priest said. “If these men see you eat or drink, they may began to doubt who you are. Our monastery is small, and only some of the brothers are with the Fellowship, but we can still offer hospitality for a traveler such as yourself.”

  “I am in your debt, sir.”

  “No, it is I who am in your debt,” he replied. “You do the Master’s bidding and keep the real devils at bay.” Thinking of Pierce and what the Masters had done to my world, I was too polite to disagree. After all, the man was saving me.

  “How long do you think it will be before they come?” I asked instead.

  “Only the Lord knows the answer to that,” he replied. “It could be only hours, or it could be a day, or even months, or years. As you know, time in the centuries passes at a much different rate than it does in the No-When. Even if your friends seek you out immediately, there may well be an extensive delay. But we will do our best and take care of you until they arrive.”

  While I was not overly thrilled with the prospect of spending any great amount of time in this particular century, I was glad for the fact that I had found a friend. I also decided that it was high time that I did him the courtesy of introducing myself.

  “My name is Penelope,” I told him, “Penelope Victoria Steele. At your service, sir.”

  “I am Father Nicholai,” he responded, “and this is the Manastir Visoki Dečani. Welcome in the name of the Masters.”

  “Tell me,” I asked. “How is that you can speak Atlantean in front of these people and not have them wonder about you? Surely they do not know that tongue and must find it rather queer.”

  He gave me a sly look and laughed softly. “A few well-timed fits now and again has convinced them that I speak in tongues. With you here, they will now be certain that I am privy to the very language of the Angels themselves. You and I will be able to converse in complete privacy, and my standing as a holy man will only increase.’

  “So will the number of pilgrims visiting our monastery now that an Angel has visited it. I daresay that we will have no problems finding the funds to repair and even improve the steeple. All in all, a very profitable arrangement for both of us, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Quite,” I replied, impressed with his cunning and business acumen. Regardless of the fact that he willingly served the Masters and that he was a religionist, it was patently clear that the Fellowship did not recruit stupid men.

  ***

  Out of the entire population of the monastery only a few of the monks were members of the Fellowship, having been initiated to it by Father Nicholai, who it turned out, was also the Hegoumenos or Abbot. He immediately saw to it that I was ensconced in a small, but comfortable cell, and ordered the entire wing to be closed to any visitors save himself, and his followers. In addition, he took great pains to warn me about having any conversations with the other monks.

  “Except for my initiates, the men here are ignorant of the Fellowship and might become troubled by the things that you could reveal to them,” he explained. “They are good men, but they are simple creatures whose universe is boundaried by their faith. They have little room in their minds for anything that is beyond what they know.”

  “Rest assured that I shall be discreet,” I promised. From my talks with the Professor, and simply out of common sense, I understood the danger that came with challenging belief systems, however mistaken they were. The very last thing that I needed was to upset the natives and ruin the Father’s reputation.

  When I inquired about my ship, my host informed me that he had set a guard around it, and had warned everyone that it contained secrets that only the Angels were privy to. The liberal addition of some tales regarding something called the ‘Ark of the Covenant’, and a few poor sods who had been struck dead by it, had served to dissuade the curious from trespassing. That, and the fact that I knew that my mechanica could handle anything that posed a real threat, set my mind at ease. All that remained was to wait for rescue.

  To pass the time, I spent my hours regaling Father Nikolai and the others with what I knew about the great River of Time and the universes that comprised it. They were eager for this information, and particularly fascinated when I described my own universe, especially when I informed them, that with the exception of a tiny minority, we did not believe in a God of any kind.

  Unfortunately, my attempts to explain the Zerodian creed to them only served to create puzzlement, and they found my lack of religion to be just as curious as I found their ideas to be. Even so, our conversations were amiable ones and made my days pleasant enough, if not thought-provoking for all parties.

  My salvation arrived on the third day, when a Phaseship appeared in the sky, and descended. The guard that had been watching Blackbird immediately alerted the Abbot, and he and the monks came to fetch me. “Your friends have come for you,” he informed me as we went outside. “A pity. I was greatly enjoying your stories and our spirited debates.”

  Looking up, I noted that the Phaseship bore an Iron Cross. It was Manfred, and I smiled at the sight.

  “You have been a most gracious host,” I responded. “And I thank you for your hospitality.”

  By this point, Manfred was landing near Blackbird, and the peasants guarding the area had retreated to a safe distance, undoubtedly overawed by the appearance of yet another angel.

  “The honor was mine,” Father Nikolai assured me. “My great-great-grandfather was the first one in my family to serve the Masters, then my grandfather and my father. I am glad that after so many years, I have had the chance to fulfill their pledge to the Fellowship. I know that you do not believe in Him, but go with God, Penelope. May He watch over and bless you.”

  “Farewell, Father,” I answered, and offered him my hand. He bent and kissed it like a proper gentleman, and then waited with his fellows as I turned and walked out to join Manfred.

  ***

  Blackbird was lifted from the crash site by a specialized concentration of the magnetic field surrounding Manfred’s Phaseship, a technique which I vowed I would add to my growing store of knowledge. With Ziva and Major Sixkiller accompanying us, my ship and I were returned to Nazca, and I was given the chance to visit my rooms and fres
hen up. Then I reported to the conference room for my debriefing with Hamilket.

  I was not certain what kind of mood he would be in, but my forecast was not good. After all, I had damaged my Phaseship and had required rescuing by my teammates. I reasoned that if he was anything like my former monoplane captain, Ms. Wallingford, he would not be terribly pleased with me, and although my service to the squadron was an involuntary one, I was still enough of a pilot to feel shame.

  It came as no surprise to me that the other members of the squadron were there as well, and I kept my chin high as I entered the room, certain that they intended to add their own rebukes to his. Oddly, Hamilket did not scowl at me, and Major Sixkiller had a broad grin on her face.

  So did Ziva. Manfred, ever the Teutonic stoic, maintained a businesslike expression, but I thought that I detected the slightest beginnings of a smirk, although it was impossible to be certain. I also noted that Hamilket was standing next to an image of some kind. It was sitting on a display stand, but its contents were concealed by a drape.

  “Welcome back, pilot,” he began. “I trust that you are well-rested after your little stay in Serbia?”

  “Sir,” I began, “I simply have no excuse--“

  “Nope,” Sixkiller interjected. “You don’t. But just t’ show that there are no hard feelins, we got you a present.” She nodded to Hamilket and he pulled the drape aside.

  It was a religionist print similar in style to the works of art that I had seen during my stay at the Dečani monastery. It depicted the crucifixion of their prophet figure, Jesus, flanked by his followers.

  But in the upper corners of this image, there were two additional figures that seemed to have nothing to do with the scene below them. They were seated in what appeared to be crude representations of Phaseships, and the one on the left was clearly in pursuit of the other on the right. Although the pilots were naked and male, there was no mistaking the red Deviator symbol that marked out the right-hand vessel.