TW09 The Lilliput Legion NEW (21 page)

"Just one moment," Darkness said. "When did I become a temporal agent? Somehow, I don't recall enlisting."

"Don't hand me that, Doc." Lucas said. "I don't recall asking to be brought back from the dead and made into an experimental human time machine, either! Now if you want to see how your prototype functions in the field, then I suggest you come along and help, otherwise I'll just go and do it myself!"

He disappeared.

"Lucas! What the . . . where did he go'!" Delaney said. "Oh, hell." said Darkness. "I'm afraid he translocated to the 20th century."

"You mean—"

"Yes. I'm afraid so," Darkness said, with a sigh. "He was thinking about going and doing it himself and that's precisely what he did. I fear I didn't quite get all the bugs out of system. It does tend to interpret one's thoughts rather literally."

"Well, don't just sit there, for God's sake! Go and help him! He could be in trouble!"

"Not if he keeps his wits about him." Darkness said. He grunted. "That'll be the day. I'd better go and help him."

He vanished.

Delaney quickly programmed new transition coordinates into his warp disc.

He glanced down at the Lilliputians.

"If the offer's still open," said the lieutenant, "we accept."

Delaney threw open a closet door and took out a brown leather valise. He grabbed several shirts out of the closet and stuffed them down into the bottom.

"All right," he said, setting the valise on the table and carefully cutting the Lilliputians' bonds. "Get inside. But if you try anything, so help me, I'll do the Mexican hat dance on this bag. Let's go."

For a moment, Andre was too stunned to move. First Lucas had miraculously come back from the dead, and now Reese Hunter. But then she realized that this man couldn't possibly be the Reese Hunter she had known, the one who had been brutally murdered by the Timekeepers in 17th century France. This could only be his twin from the parallel universe, an officer in the Counter Insurgency Section—their counterpart to the temporal Intelligence Agency.

They had met when Forrester had sent them on a mission through a confluence, into the parallel universe, where Nikolai Drakov had pretended to defect only so that he could hijack the S.O.G.'s Project Infiltrator along with its brilliant director, Dr. Moreau. It was from Moreau that Drakov had learned how to create his deadly hominoids. Capt. Reese Hunter had been sent out to stop him and he had met the Time Commandos when they were all taken prisoner by Drakov and his homicidal henchman. Santos Benedetto.

They didn't really know each other, and yet, in another sense, they did.

This Reese Hunter was not the same man who had helped Andre to avenge her brother's death, but he was identical to that Reese Hunter in almost all respects, as if they had been cut from the same mold. He, in turn, had also known an Andre, although the Andre he had known in his own universe had been killed while on a mission, just as the Lucas Priest and the Finn Delaney he had known had died. During the time they had shared the same prison cell at Drakov's headquarters on the island of Rhodes, they had discovered that they "knew" each other well through having known their counterparts. It was an eerie sort of intimacy.

When they had escaped, they had taken Hunter prisoner. There had been no choice, of course. He was the enemy. But once they had crossed over back into their own timeline. Hunter had escaped with a stolen warp disc and they hadn't seen him since. Now there he was, lying on the floor at Andre's feet, badly bruised and battered. He was from the other side, but at the same time, he was indistinguishable from the man who had helped her and changed her entire life. They were the same, right down to their DNA. As he raised his face to look at her, Andre could not suppress a gasp. And then, involuntarily, she moaned softly.

"Oh, Reese! What have they done to you?"

He squinted up at her through swollen eyelids.
"Andre?
Is that really you?"

Drakov chuckled. "It's rather like old home week, isn't it?" he said. "It really is amazing how fate keeps throwing all of us together. The late Professor Mensinger doubtless had an equation of some sort to account for how the Fate Factor keeps selecting us out of random temporal zones and maneuvering us together to resolve our mutually disruptive influence. Well, perhaps this time we can settle things, once and for all."

Andre looked up at him from where she knelt on the floor, beside Hunter.

"Drakov, how can you possibly be alive? I
saw
Forrester kill you!"

"Did you, indeed?" he replied, in an amused tone. "Somehow I've always thought that it would happen the other way around. I trust I died well?"

For a moment, she wondered if Drakov had somehow cheated death like Lucas had. With Nikolai Drakov, it seemed that almost anything was possible. His birth had been a temporal anomaly. He had been conceived when a very young Moses Forrester, fresh out of boot camp and on his first assignment in minus time, had been seriously injured and separated from his unit. He had been nursed back to health by a beautiful young Russian gypsy girl named Vanna Drakova. Stranded, crippled and with a damaged implant, young Forrester had thought that he was trapped forever in the past. By the time an S & R team finally found him, Vanna was pregnant with his child. Forrester, afraid that Vanna's child would be aborted, never mentioned it and the Search and Retrieve team took him away into the future, never to see the girl he loved again.

Nikolai was born in the middle of a brutal Russian winter storm while Moscow burned during Napoleon's retreat. He had survived when most other infants would have died in such severe conditions. His seemingly miraculous survival and his unusual health were due to the antiagathic drugs that were still active in his father's system, Forrester having received the anti-aging and immunizing treatments shortly following his induction into the Temporal Corps. From what little the uneducated gypsy girl could tell him about his father, Nikolai had formed a picture of some supernatural, demon lover who had abandoned both of them.

For years, he felt that he was cursed, a demon issue, and when his mother was murdered by a knife-wielding rapist who had given Nikolai the scar upon the left side of his face, the bitter resentment and the fear had turned to savage hatred. Years later, when he had found out the truth about his father from a woman known as Falcon, the infamous leader of the Timekeepers, Drakov had vowed that he would never rest until Moses Forrester was dead and the timestream was irreparably split. He was, of course, insane. And he was also dead. Andre had seen him incinerated by a plasma blast. So how could he possibly still be alive? And then the only possible explanation struck her.

"My God, you've done it to yourself," she said. "You've created a hominoid from your own genetic template!"

"Very good, Miss Cross," said Drakov, with an appreciative nod. "Very good, indeed. Only that should be hominoids, plural, not singular."

She paled. "How many?"

He smiled. "Ah, now that would be telling, wouldn't it? And what's life without a little mystery?"

She stared at him, astounded. "Does . . . does that mean that you . . . that you're . . ."

"That I'm what?" said Drakov, smiling. "The original Nikolai Drakov or a hominoid? Interesting question. You see, under normal circumstances, a clone would essentially be a sort of carbon copy, yet not necessarily the same as the original. Such things as culture, environment, experience and so forth play an important part in the formation of a personality. It's not merely a matter of genetics. However, a hominoid is considerably more than just a clone. There is genetic manipulation and cybernetic surgery, among other esoteric procedures. And when you add time travel child rearing into the equation, what I call 'time lapse maturation,' carefully supervising the development through the years and using implant education to program specific memory engrams, why, then what you might very well wind up with would be a clone who has the same experiences, the same memories, and the same exact personality, carefully cultivated from identical genetic stock. And in such a case, how could you tell the difference? If I were the original Nikolai Drakov, I would naturally know that I was the original. Yet on the other hand, if I were
not
the original Nikolai Drakov, but I had been given the same memories and personality, how would I ever know?"

"So what are you saying?" said Andre. "That what Forrester killed was a hominoid?"

"Perhaps," said Drakov, smiling slightly, enjoying her confusion. "And perhaps not. Suffice it to say that he killed a Nikolai Drakov. But, as you can see, there are more where that one came from."

"Dear Lord, I understand absolutely none of this," said Gulliver, miserably. "It seems that I have come full circle somehow. Will this madness
never
cease?"

"Never fear, Mr. Gulliver," said Drakov. "For you, it will cease all too soon. You've really become quite an inconvenience. You seem to live a charmed life. I've never met a man who was more inept, yet so difficult to kill. It defies all explanation."

"Leave him alone, Drakov," Andre said. "He has nothing to do with this."

"My dear Miss Cross, he has
everything
to do with this," said Drakov. "If not for him, you would never have stumbled upon this little venture of mine until it was far too late for you to do anything about it. As it is, I was forced to move ahead of schedule and alter my plans somewhat. Altogether, you've been very irritating."

"I think you'll find us a lot more irritating before it's all over, Nikolai," Andre said.

"Really? Oh, I see. You're no doubt anticipating rescue by your two gallant young comrades, Steiger and Delaney. Well, you may have quite a wait. Knowing those two as I do, I imagine the first thing they did upon questioning young Mr. Gulliver was to go looking for my island base. If they've been unfortunate enough to find it, they will have also found the reception committee that I left behind for them. Somehow, I doubt you will be seeing them again. In any case, for you, Miss Cross, it
is
all over. Savino, bring her."

Savino came up behind her and grabbed her by the arm, lifting her up and shoving her away from Hunter.

"Savino?" she said, staring at him. "Vic Savino?"

"That's me," he said. "Get moving."

"Traitor." She spat in his face.

He punched her in the jaw and knocked her to the ground. "Coward!" shouted Gulliver. "You craven coward, hitting a woman!"

Despite his hands being cuffed behind his back, Gulliver rushed Savino, but Savino merely stepped aside and tripped him, sending him sprawling,

"Enough of this nonsense," Drakov said, irritably. "Bring her, I said!"

Savino grabbed Andre and manhandled her into the elevator.

As he got in after them, Drakov beckoned to the two men he had brought with him. He indicated Gulliver and Hunter. "Kill them and dispose of the bodies in the river," he said.

"No! Wait!" shouted Gulliver.

The elevator doors closed:

The two men came forward, reaching inside their custom- tailored jackets.

Dr. George Ericson, the chief hospital administrator, was not pleased with Lt. Harris and he let him know it in no uncertain terms.

"Now look here, Sergeant—" he began.

"Lieutenant," Harris corrected him, testily. It was not an auspicious beginning.

"Lieutenant," the administrator said, his tone clearly indicating that whether it was sergeant or lieutenant made not the slightest bit of difference to him. "This has to stop immediately. I can't have you turning this hospital into an armed camp."

"This hospital is on a military base, sir," said Harris, wryly. "It's right in the middle of an 'armed camp,' as you put it."

"I fail to see what that has to do with anything," Ericson said, impatiently. "You have literally invaded this hospital with your armed guards. It's disturbing the patients and the staff feel practically besieged. We simply cannot have this. I cannot allow you and your men to go on harassing the patients and the staff, making everyone coming in and out submit to being searched, checking identification, really, it's quite intolerable. By what authority do you—"

"By the authority of the acting base commander, Col. Steiger, sir," said Harris, interrupting him. "That gives me all the authority I need. As to invading this hospital, sir, that's precisely what we're here to prevent."

"You're disturbing the patients—"

"I don't really think that we're disturbing any of the patients, sir. Most of them are military personnel in the first place and would certainly understand the need for security under the circumstances. The only patients who can even see any evidence of additional security on the premises are those who were up on General Forrester's floor and they've all been moved. Our people up there are doing all they can to make their presence as inconspicuous as possible."

"Nevertheless," Ericson persisted, "this entire so-called security operation of yours is an unwarranted intrusion and it's interfering with the function of this hospital. It simply won't do. I cannot allow it to continue."

"I think what's happening, sir," Harris said, evenly, "is that your doctors are complaining about being searched every time they come into the hospital or pass one of the interior checkpoints we've established. And frankly, sir, that's tough. You might remind them that one member of the hospital staff has already been murdered by an infiltrator. We're here to see that it doesn't happen again."

"Well, I take the strongest possible exception to this," the chief administrator protested.

"I'll make a note of it, sir," said Harris.

"Don't you condescend to me, Sergeant—"

"That's Lieutenant," Harris said.

"Whatever. I demand to speak to your superior officer at once!"

"That would be Col. Steiger, sir," said Harris.

"Fine, I'll speak to him."

"As you wish, sir."

"Well?" said Ericson.

Harris sighed wearily. "Well,
what?
Sir."