The Temporal Knights (5 page)

“When do they leave?” Matt asked, wishing he was the one going up in the Bot , but he was also aware that while rank had its privileges, it also carried with it its share of detriments.

“High noon,” Lemay answered with a sardonic grin. “That gives you three hours to look over and prepare the Bot. Have Captain Gardner report to Sergeant Moore no later than eleven. The Sergeant will be heading up the scouting mission.”

“Yes Sir,” Matt said and headed off immediately. Captain John Gardner was delighted to be going up. He’d originally put in to join Matt aboard the Skawp ship but was passed over in favor of Murphy Giles, but he held no animosity. They all had a job to do and were very professional about it. They had to be, since none of them knew if they would live to see the next day, such realities tending to bring out camaraderie rather than competitiveness and petty jealousy.

The Bots were both in great shape, and one was completely undamaged and ready for flight in just twenty minutes. The spark plugs had to be replaced in the other which Matt did on his own, freeing up John to report to Sergeant Moore and go over the mission plans. After checking both planes over again, Matt recruited almost thirty men to help him walk a nearby field to free it of any large rocks. It took two passes and almost an hour before the Major was satisfied it was suitably free of dangerous obstacles. At noon everything was ready and the entire camp stopped their work and wandered over to see them off. Many of the spectators were donning their battle gear so that they could monitor the GBF, or General Battle Frequency, and the group’s progress. General Peebles had a receiver set up underneath an awning in the center of camp so that he and the rest of the officers could follow the progress together. The entire day took on the feeling of a celebration or holiday.

“Let me go John-John,” Eve said a she attempted to pull her hand from his. Her small legs were almost running as she moved alongside him toward the ultra-light. “I want to go in the airplane.”

John stopped and knelt beside her. “No my sweet. You need to stay here and take care of grumpy old Stuart,” he said as Stuart Greybon walked up to them.

“Stuart’s not grumpy,” Eve said simply, coming to her guardian’s defense and causing him to smile widely, “and anyway I want to go.”

“Well, you can’t this time, but someday I’ll take you up okay?”

“-kay,” she answered and rushed over into Stuart’s arms.

Matt shook John’s hand before he climbed into the sparse cockpit. The plane itself was unarmed, the Captain’s Browning 9mm sidearm the only weapon, but then the plane was never and was not now, meant to be an offensive weapon. He slipped on his helmet, which would keep him in contact with both the home base and Sergeant Moore on the ground.

“All systems go,” Gardner reported and thumbed the ignition. The engine fired immediately and John started going through the pre-flight routine.

“Keep in close contact and tell us everything you see,” General Peebles demanded, speaking into his own radio as the Captain taxied the plane out into the cleared field.

“Yes Sir. All ready
Sergeant,” he said as he gunned the engine and quickly accelerated to take off speed, “I’m going to gain a little altitude directly overhead and then we’ll head off to the south as planned.”

“Roger,” Moore responded and the hummers began to roll off slowly in that direction. The entire camp grew excited and tense, but Moore, a natural fighter, was finally at ease. Each
Humvee carried five men, two up front, two in the rear and one soldier manning the large M60, 7.62mm machine gun, which was still in operation, though much changed with the coming of the computer age. The M60 was now a sophisticated weapon, integrated directly into the computerized battle gear which was centered largely in the oversized helmet that all the soldiers wore. Through the helmet, every soldier viewed the world virtually, which showed up on the interior of their opaque face plates. This allowed the soldiers to see the world from any number of angles, either from miniature cameras mounted on their helmet, weapon, from an overhead “bug,” or even from a camera of one of their fellow soldiers. It also allowed them to view the battlefield in visible light, infra-red, night vision, and microwaves, among other options. Smoke, dense fog, or the dark of night hid nothing from the soldier’s eyes. The sightings of the M60 now showed up electronically on the face plate and this allowed the soldier to put down extremely accurate fire on the enemy even while hunkering down behind cover. When operating the M18 assault rifle, cameras allowed the soldiers to hold the weapon out in order to see above obstacles or around corners while keeping the majority of their body out of harm’s way. It was truly a revolutionary development and allowed the common foot soldier to have access to more information on the battlefield than ever before, while having the ability to put down highly concentrated, highly accurate fire on the enemy, in any weather conditions, day or night.

Sergeant Moore was not worried about what they would have to face out in the countryside as long as there were no more monstrous Skawps. He had his fill of fighting and killing those bastards long ago. Moore, at thirty-eight, was a career soldier even before the alien attack forced everyone to become career soldiers. And like all the rest, he’d lost family and friends and happily declined promotions just to stay in the field and kill the enemy. It was something he was very good at, but after five long years even his resolve was beginning to weaken. He was happy the end came when it did. He was nearing the breaking point; they all were. It was a sobering realization for a hardened lifetime soldier. These last few days of non-combat were like a tonic for him and his men, helping to give them new life, and a new commitment. They were ready now, to fight, to kill, and to do anything necessary to keep the living hell of the past five years from happening all over again. They were prepared and he had the utmost confidence in his men. Those, who survived to this point, were absolutely the best, but more importantly, they were the luckiest. Luck was a very important trait both in oneself and in the men around you. Being good only got you so far.

Sergeant Paul Sadao, his driver was quite possibly the finest soldier Moore had ever worked with and the best hand to hand combat man in the entire outfit, except for possibly Corporal Jefferies, who rode in the next hummer. But every man in the squad was just as deadly, and just as lucky. If the trip through the Door proved successful, he almost pitied the medieval men that would rise against them, and some would, of that he had no illusions. From firsthand experience he knew that human beings rarely rolled over without a fight…usually a good fight.

“Nothing so far,” Moore heard Captain Gardner report from above, “rough terrain ahead for you boys on the ground, though it appears to be worse to the northeast. It’s going to get bumpy.”

“Roger,” Moore said. They could live with a few bumps. “Stay overhead, ceiling your discretion.”

“Yes Sir,” Gardener answered, and began to circle higher and higher overhead.

“I now have visibility up to ten miles, no major structures of any kind; no sign of people at all...switching to infra-red. Nothing, no sign of life.”

On the ground the hummers were moving along at a surprisingly good clip, and only occasionally had to reroute to avoid troublesome rock formations or steep gullies. The Humvee could handle almost anything; it’s durability legendary. Occasionally they stirred up some indigenous wildlife, including a few deer which escaped Gardner’s overhead sweeps, and they’d only gone about five miles when they accidentally hit a rabbit.

“I see a road! I see a road!” Gardner yelled excitedly over the radio while the hummers were stopped. Moore insisted they retrieve the carcass of the rabbit, after all food was food and he was pretty sure grocery stores were now a thing of the past…or rather, the future.

“Tell us about it, Captain,” General Peebles ordered with dead calm, while others around him exploded with excitement.

“Yes Sir. Sorry Sir,” Gardner answered. “It’s more a wagon trail than a road really, two dirt ruts with a grassy hump in the middle, but it’s definitely a road of the times and not a game trail.”

“Holy shit,” someone behind Peebles said, but the General didn’t turn around to see who spoke. Surrounding the command table with the General were Colonel Lemay, Major Thane, Dr. Rice and Lee Robertson, but most of the camp was now crowded around the tent; those in the very back donned their helmets and monitored the broadcast through the built in radios.

“It’s located about four miles due south of Sergeant Moore’s last position. I’m at about two hundred feet and getting a good look now.”

“Captain, return to a safe altitude immediately, circle and wait for the Sergeant’s party to arrive at your position,” Peebles ordered.

“Yes Sir, climbing now,” Gardner replied though it took every ounce of his will power not to shoot off and follow the road. Instead he climbed higher still, circling his position and magnifying his surroundings as much as he dared.

“I have you,” Moore reported, finally spotting the Bot in the distance. “ETA six minutes...”

“Roger,” Gardner said still climbing. He spotted the reconnaissance group below and to the north and then he glanced back along the road that ran to the southwest. “Magnify ten times,” he ordered his helmet and the surrounding scene grew instantly closer.

“Mother of God...” he suddenly blurted. On his view screen he could make out a small group of low, squat buildings in the distance. “I’ve got buildings, maybe five miles...hold on…targeting,” he reported and began to aim a targeting laser the plane was equipped with to get an exact reading for artillery or rockets. A targeting laser was not standard equipment for a Bot, but they were added shortly before the cross over.

Behind the General, the mood grew apprehensive as the news began to sink in.

“We did it! We did it...we’ve really gone back in time,” he heard someone shout with a hoot of unabashed joy. The General felt his own knees go weak as his spirit soared, but outwardly he remained calm and in control.

“Target 5.3 miles southwest of my position,” Gardner said still very excited. “Request permission to fly over?”

“Negative,” Sergeant Moore said quickly and very firmly, before Pebbles could say anything. He smiled and glanced at Colonel Lemay, whose eyes were wide as the view of the buildings filled the monitor.

“Breathe Colonel,” Peebles said softly with a smile, jerking his number two man back to the camp.

“This is unreal,” he whispered so that only the General could hear. Peebles nodded.

“Captain Gardner calm down and remain in position,” the General added, knowing the rebuke would achieve the desired result, and it did. Gardner instantly took it for what it was and once again became a distant, cold professional observer of the surrounding terrain.

“Yes Sir!” Gardner replied immediately. “Target area is clear, no sign of any boogies. Sergeant Moore will arrive at my position in two minutes.

They all waited, marveling that two minutes could last so long, but finally the radio came to life.

“We’re in position on the road. It runs to the northeast as well as the southwest,” Moore reported back. “It’s crude but will help us to increase our speed. Heading southwest toward the target area; Captain, do you see anything?”

“Negative. No movement. No sign of life.”

“Roger moving out...speed passing thirty-five miles an hour...now forty.”

“Sergeant, can you see the target area?” Colonel Lemay suddenly asked.

“Negative.”

“Distance to target area 3.75 miles,” Gardner said. The entire camp was completely silent now.

“Sergeant, report when you have visual,” was all that Peebles said, and then they all waited tensely. As he waited with the others, the General forced himself to relax and loosen his grip on the side of the table. The excitement for the reconnaissance party must be nearly overwhelming he knew and was fiercely proud of their control.

“Visual sighting,” Moore finally said with just a trace of emotion.

“Target 1.22 miles,” Jefferies chimed in.

“Confirmed,” Sadao reported from his hummer, his laser sighting already set and ready. Sergeant Moore chided himself silently for not being as ready.

“Captain Gardner begin fly over of the target,” the Sergeant ordered and above the Bot shot toward the buildings. “Keep your current altitude Captain.”

“Roger,” Gardner replied and then the ultra-light was over the target area.

Sergeant Moore touched a button on the side of his helmet magnifying the surrounding area by twenty times in order to get a better look at the buildings. The view was unimpressive, three squat buildings built mostly of rock, mud and grass. One seemed to be partially collapsed, but still the Sergeant was left breathless; it may have worked. They could have gone back. Peebles switched views and came to the same conclusion.

“Target area clear, no sign of boogies,” Gardner reported, as he circled around for a second pass.

“Maintain visual,” Sergeant Moore responded. “All right let’s go,” he said and the hummers leaped forward, racing at the maximum safe speed, which in this case that was just over forty-five miles an hour. As they moved forward, the men manning the M60’s continuously adjusted their weapons to cover the approaching buildings. The two vehicles slowed approximately seventy yards from the nearest hovel, one moving off the road to the right, the other to the left, they stopped flanking the buildings perfectly. Two sides of all three buildings were visible from one vehicle or the other.