The Chrysalis of Eternity

Time, as he passes us, has a dove’s wing,

Unsoil’d and swift, and of a silken sound.

- Cowper

The lights in the operating theatre were dimming intermittently as power connections took strain. Outside, an assault on the MedCentre had begun only minutes before, but already the outer laboratories had been damaged beyond repair. As he approached the glass viewing partition, Brad could see a medical team assembling gear. The team was preparing for a rapid evacuation.

“Hurry – we’re running out of time,” the medic nearest the door shouted, peering out into the ante-room. As he moved back into the theatre, two Caretakers entered silently from a side door and crept quietly towards the table. One of them was carrying a weapon that looked disturbingly like the laser rifle Tin-kelto now had with him. The other Caretaker was under stress.

Brad scanned them both simultaneously, mildly surprised at his ability. The one under stress was crying inside – he’d been coerced into coming here by his armed companion who was deciding how best to infiltrate the medical team without their objecting to his presence. He had to accompany them to their destination. Brad recognised him immediately – he was the Caretaker who had just died. Shaking his head, Brad focussed on the whole building, looking out onto the dimly lit landscape which was definitely not Phoenix.

The armed Caretaker approached the Chief Medic and spoke to him in a low voice, showing him the weapon. The Chief nodded and continued to pack instruments into his bag. He’d accepted an offer of protection on the way to the Gateway, but Brad knew exactly what the Caretaker had in mind; he would jump in with them for the journey back through time to Phoenix, where Tin-kelto was about to annihilate the remaining Goranian juveniles. He would be praying that Tin had not already taken care of the adult. His sole purpose in life right now was to get to Phoenix and stop the slaughter of his remote ancestors.

“Bloody hell, Lin – this is where it all starts! This Caretaker is Kehaal. He’s getting ready to move out with the team. There’s a Gateway being initiated outside the entrance to this building. I’ve got to stop him,” he thought as he bounded into the theatre and leaped for the Caretaker, shouting to the medics as he did so.

“Stop him! Stop this creature,” he bellowed as he knocked Kehaal flying. The other Caretaker was paralysed with indecision. Brad could feel his confusion; he wanted to help his fellow. At the same time he knew the right thing would be to help Brad and the medics. He wrestled with his conscience, unable to move.

The medics had scattered and most were already at the door. Kehaal picked himself up from the floor, his hood thrown back and his head revealed. For the first time in his life, Brad saw a Caretaker as he really was – a hybrid with an insect-like head; large compound eyes that would have terrified him if he’d seen Kahana revealed thus at first encounter. He hesitated for a split second too long, and Kehaal picked up the weapon and fired.

Managing to throw himself sideways, blessing his reaction time, Brad felt a hot, searing bolt of energy flash along his side, burning away the surface of the thermal protecting material of his uniform. He glanced down and noticed he was wearing an armoured version of a standard GSA combat uniform, with heavy boots and the insignia of a serving officer in the Galactic Armed Alliance.

A part of his brain wondered how he knew it was the Alliance – he’d never heard of them. Yet another part of his now calm mind was assessing the progress of the medical team, who were hurrying out of the door, looking back in fear at him and the Caretaker on the floor.

A third part of his coldly analytical brain drove him against Kehaal with all the force he could muster, and he grabbed for the Caretaker’s bony throat. It felt cold and hard, like a bound sheaf of sticks and rope. Kehaal, with surprising strength, stood up with Brad hanging on, and shook himself like a wet animal. Brad felt another pair of hands pulling him back by the shoulders. He lost his grip on Kehaal. Looking around, he saw the second Caretaker holding onto his belt, pulling him away from his colleague. Evidently the Goranian element in him had overruled the human. Brad swung around and hit out at the slender figure, knocking him down with a blow to the midriff. He stood back, breathing deeply. Kehaal was nowhere to be seen.

He concentrated on the doorway, and saw the retreating, armed Caretaker following the medical team out towards the familiar vertical disc of a formed Gateway in front of the portal.

“Brad – surely you have a weapon – check for one,” Linda advised.

“Must be getting slow,” he muttered as he grabbed for the holstered gun on his hip. Withdrawing it, he began to run for the door, examining the gun as he ran. It was unfamiliar, but the standard trigger and grip with a short barrel made it easy to hold and point in the right direction. He tried an experimental shot, aiming at the wall of the lobby, but nothing happened. He looked for a safety release, but the weapon was smooth and otherwise featureless.

He continued running, then concentrated on the path ahead and found himself at the front door just in time to see the last medic leap forward into the blackness of the Gateway. Kehaal was nowhere to be seen, but Brad could sense his waning trail – he was in the network with the team. With a sigh, the tunnel entrance folded in on itself, and all was quiet again. He’d failed.

The noise of battle had subsided and moved further away as he sat down on a flat stone seat, staring at the straggly row of flowers growing along the side of the walkway leading into the MedCentre. He was deeply depressed. His only mission in all of this had been to stop Kehaal from getting to Phoenix and sabotaging the medical theatre.

Depending on when the team arrived, the medics would prepare to isolate the Goranian’s DNA and genetic structure. They would then attempt to rectify the flaw the Goranians possessed, but he’d failed to stop the Caretaker travelling with them. He’d failed his race – indeed, the entire human race. He concentrated as hard as he could on Tin-kelto, hoping to somehow see if what he feared the most was happening.

He stopped in his tracks. The Caretaker was approaching the theatre from the side and was now at the first of the double doors. Brad looked at Tin-kelto and gasped. This was like an instant replay, except he knew what was coming. He was back on Phoenix, but without having travelled in the network. He’d gone directly to Tin-kelto as soon as he concentrated on the little hybrid. He shook his head as if to clear it, and saw clearly what was happening in the theatre down the long corridor.

With a yell, he rushed at the door leading from Tin-kelto’s office and instantly found himself at the outer door to the theatre, right behind Kehaal the Caretaker. With all his strength, he punched the creature in the middle of its back, knocking it flying against the glass of the second door. With a hellish sound of exploding glass and metal, the gun went off and part of the melted door frame spattered onto Brad’s GSA uniform, burning little holes in the thermal weave material.

He yelped with pain and grabbed for the weapon, but the Caretaker managed to stand up and fire at the team of medics before he could wrest it from those bony claws. Inside the theatre, the medical team had dispersed into all corners of the room. The being on the table sat up, its head swivelling from side to side as it took in the chaotic scene. Brad saw it focus on him, and a wave of charged emotion swept over him. The creature was terrified, but more than that, it was determined to succeed in its mission. It moved off the table and grabbed the nearest medic by the throat, ripping the unfortunate man’s head off with one short swipe of its jagged forearm.

Brad managed to win the weapon from Kehaal’s grip and jumped back, firing into the theatre while concentrating on Tin-kelto - and he was suddenly at the desk, staring down at the little man furiously manipulating a set of instruments on the desk

“Brad – it didn’t work, but there’s still time. Give me the gun. I’ll attend to this end – just give me a couple of seconds, and-”

Tin-kelto disappeared again.

Brad approached the MedCentre with caution. He was back on the grim world out on the Rim somewhere. In the gathering gloom of impending dusk, flashes from an approaching assault lit the area sporadically with brilliant colours. Thick, humid jungle all around made visibility less than a hundred metres in any direction. He ducked a small piece of masonry as it fell from the roof, and entered the lobby, making his way straight for the main operating theatre. He wondered vaguely how he knew his way around the building so well, but shrugged it off, seeing ahead into the labyrinth of corridors. Without hesitation he made it to the brightly lit room where a team of medics was busily gathering gear together.

As he entered the room they all looked up. The Chief Medic, distinguished by his red collar and cuffs looked alarmed. Brad tried to reassure the man.

“Don’t worry, Chief. I’m here to see you get there safely – to the Gateway at least. The rest of your mission is up to you.”

“Gate way? What Gate way, Cunnel? We to leave CareComm and take Speedroute to planet so it be Hekla – and soon soon. We did orders from Caretakers with Conscience – extreme urgent. They programme did Speedroute us – we have no time to fragging,” he growled as he continued to pack delicate-looking instruments into a large bag.

“I know just how urgent, doc. By the way, it’s called Phoenix now,” Brad commented. Surprisingly, he understood the weird language he was hearing perfectly. He hoped his Standard English would be acceptable, but nobody took any notice.

Brad scanned the area but there were no life forms closer than four kilometres in any direction – that would be the nearest troops making noise, doing whatever they were at this time.

He thought of something and moved closer to the group.

“Are any of you familiar with this weapon?” he asked, unholstering his sidearm. He looked down at it and immediately felt foolish. It was a different gun from the one he’d been unable to use a few minutes ago, in a different scenario with the same setting. This one had a safety setting button very clearly marked.

“Cunnel, stop skontshing - us did on,” the Chief Medic growled, in an even deeper tone.

“Blunting fromms sending winning war – what hope for pure humanrace?” he continued to mutter, more to himself. “You see why did important get there,” he observed in a louder voice directed at his team.

They finished packing and moved towards the door.

“Hold it – I’ll lead the way,” Brad pushed past the gathering and opened the door. He scanned ahead. It was all clear, and he motioned them to follow.

“Bloody military boon-foggins – think did protectors of garshens out a way. Better not wilden, he speaks Fragen. Unstable beastings – even a pure human DNA.” The man was muttering under his breath, just audible to those next to him, but Brad heard every word clearly.

He turned to confront the man, but thought better of it. After all, as long as he got them to the Gateway and off what did it matter if they regarded him as a Fragen? He thought with amusement what an insult that was – he knew instinctively the inhabitants of Frag, a remote world out on the Rim were seriously inbred and prone to bouts of hysteria and violence at the best of times – at worst they were maniacal killers.

They reached the portal in safety and the group assembled in the open area surrounded by thick, waxy vegetation, waiting for the Chief. He arrived last and stood, looking perplexed. It was stiflingly hot and humid, and he wiped his brow.

“Where it, Chief?” one of his men asked, looking around.

“Patience Miko, a while ’taker did spoke.”

Brad’s senses leaped. He had a clear vision of exactly who the Caretaker was.

“Jesus! Was his name Kehaal? The Caretaker who directed you here, was his name Kehaal?” Brad practically shouted.

“How foggin Hades know, Cunnel?” the chief looked at him, puzzled. “I not-did speak except Jennel, did security.”

“Stand back – that bastard of a Caretaker is the saboteur who fouls up your mission on Phoenix – I’ll initiate the Gateway,” he said, concentrating on the scene in Tin-kelto’s office.

“Who hellshine think you, Cunnel? Initiating? I did you refer-” He stopped and his eyes widened as the air began to shimmer and a circular area of darkness formed within.

“You be-” the Chief Medic’s words were cut short by a metallic screaming from above, and they looked up to see a flattened spherical enemy fighter coming in to land on top of the building. It was in vertical hover mode, the air being blasted outwards as it descended slowly.

“Christ, move it!” Brad shouted, shoving the Chief towards the spinning disc of blackness. Three more of his men made it into the tunnel before a missile shrieked down and exploded right in the mouth of the network connection. The Gateway belled out violently, sucking the heavy blast in. Immediately after that it folded in with a whooshing sound and all was quiet again. The three remaining medics lay on the ground, bleeding and moaning.

Amazingly, he was unharmed, and Brad looked up to see two uniform-clad hybrids, easily identifiable by their outsized helmets, crawling down the side of the building. He scanned them and found a mixture of fear and uncertainty as they stopped, feeling his probing. Gathering all his strength, he concentrated on them both and filled his lungs, cleared his mind completely and shouted.

The sound was terrifying, even to his ears. The medics on the ground jerked violently and Brad opened his eyes to see a bloody mess of bone, shell and flesh running down the side of the MedCentre. He sucked in his breath sharply.

“Good God – did I do that?”

“Apparently. Your powers are formidable – Tin-kelto said they would be. We must learn how to use them properly, love. Effective, but this could be dangerous,” Linda whispered in his mind.

He turned to help the medics, but they were dead – he could feel their residual brain energy diminishing by the second. He looked down at his uniform.

“So, I’m a Cunnel in the Alliance am I? Wonder how I got to be one?” he remarked, moving closer to the bodies of the medics.

“Damn – I hope they didn’t die because of me,” he said out loud.

“What about the network, love? The explosion seemed to go right in the Gateway. I’m sure the medics in there will be dead – do you think Tin-kelto will be all right? That lot may just belch out the other end,” Linda observed. “It maybe even destroy that route.”

“Damn,” he said once more. “You could be right, Lin. God, what a mess – second time unlucky. How many chances do we get?”

“Lucky to get any at all,” Linda whispered back.

“Well, now what?” Brad asked aloud. The sky above them was clear. The explosions seemed to be further off now, and he could sense no life forms within five kilometres. The thick jungle all around the centre appeared impenetrable and he didn’t feel like hacking his way to an unknown destination. He had no idea where this place was, anyway. Above him the strange craft teetered dangerously on the edge of the roof. He sat down and stared at the lush vegetation bordering the walkway to the MedCentre, thinking.

The medical team was almost ready by the time he got there. Looking up, the Chief greeted him warmly, bowing slightly from the waist. Brad took a deep breath, trying to adapt as nonchalantly as he could to yet another scenario.

“Glad you could make it yourself, General,” he said.

“General, hey? Well, well my love. What next?” Linda whispered quietly in his mind’s ear.

“Ready? Let’s move out,” Brad ignored the observation and motioned the team towards the door.

They followed him out into the dim light of early dusk. The distant bare hills appeared calm and quiet after the heavy pounding his men had given the enemy earlier. The Caretakers had been taken care of, he smiled to himself. That evil bastard Kehaal had almost got him with that bloody rifle – he’d managed to get the swine to turn the weapon on himself and blast his own head clean off his shoulders, much to the amusement of his bodyguards.

“Assemble in the car park guys,” he called to the team as they milled about under the portal’s covering.

“The what?”

“Out there – dammit,” he almost shouted, concentrating on initiating the Gateway as he spoke. This time he was taking no chances. In addition to the mental power he knew he had, he carried a heavy-duty ioniser that would knock over a barn at full power, which was how he’d set the control. He scanned the area once more, satisfied that it was clear of all life, and looked upwards, checking the heavens as well.

“OK then, good luck guys,” he smiled, extending his hand to the Chief as they moved towards the slowly materialising vertical circle of darkness within a wavering wall of lighter air.

“What’s this ‘guys’ you keep calling us, General? Some sort of comradely josh, I hope,” the Chief smiled back, as a shrieking missile was launched from behind the distant hills.

Brad could see it clearly even though it was about ten kilometres away – he saw the enemy setting the launcher for another missile, and he acted swiftly. Leaping forward, he managed to knock the Chief and one of his team into the gaping tunnel before turning and concentrating all his power on the missile coming straight at them. He shouted, and the rocket exploded two hundred metres from the tunnel mouth, showering them with pieces of hot metal.

When the hellish noise of the explosion had left their ringing ears, Brad noticed two of the team on the ground. One was badly wounded, bleeding heavily from an artery in his thigh. He ripped a piece of material from the man’s jacket and bound the wound tightly before pushing him into the yawning void in the centre of the tunnel. The other man died while he was busy.

“Damn. Well, the one I sent off should receive good attention – his buddies are there with all of their equipment. Sorry I couldn’t save-” He stopped, hearing the next missile on its way. Using the same method, he blew it up a long way from where he was standing. The wind blew in from explosion, across the deserted landscape. There was a distinct chill now that the sun had set.

“Well, my love, it looks as if this time we succeeded. Not one hundred percent,” he added, looking sadly at the body of the last medic.

“Let’s see what happens now,” Linda replied quietly.

For a while there was nothing. It was quiet and peaceful, and he began to think of how Tin-kelto might be coping back on Phoenix without Kehaal to throw a spanner in the works. Perhaps they’d managed to complete their unravelling of the alien DNA by now, and the next step could be initiated. He closed his eyes and sat back against the low wall with its brilliant flowers lining the walkway.

They appeared to be stuck in heavy traffic. The lead vehicle had exploded as a damaged halfbreed fighter plane crashed into it. The driver suggested a stray energy bolt found its way across the mountains and met the fighter head on, bringing it down on their convoy. They certainly hadn’t fired at anything since leaving the MedCentre. There were no satellites in range and no air traffic at all, according to the scanner on the dashboard.

According to his driver, the halfbreeds were completely outclassed in the air – there were very few serviceable fighters left, so intelligence said. The crashed fighter and vehicle’s remains blocked the narrow gap through the Iron Mountains – a perfect ambush setup, Brad realised.

“Whatya reckon, General?” the driver asked, turning his head.

“General?” Brad swivelled to survey the inside of the groundcar, but he was alone in the back. Glancing down, he saw he was wearing a black, heavy duty uniform, combat boots below a one-piece jumpsuit with armour padded flak jacket overlying it, and four silver stars spreading down his lapels on either side. He had a thick belt with a holstered weapon on one side, and a commlink badge on his chest, along with six rows of medals surmounting his name tag – ‘General Coulson, B’. He shook his head violently, looking around desperately for something familiar. There was none.

“Nonchalance – that’s the key love. Hopefully it won’t be long before the scenario changes again – it’s about time for Tin-kelto’s actions to filter through,” he felt Linda smiling.

The dark sky outside accentuated the feeling of gloom that the landscape invoked. Black clouds rolled relentlessly across the bleak, moody hills and jagged cliffs up ahead.

“Well, General?” The driver, a blond, blue eyed man in his early twenties was watching him. Brad concentrated on the area ahead. He could see for many kilometres – there was no sign of the enemy as far as he could scan.

“How do we know what the enemy looks like?” Linda was puzzled.

“Lin! God it’s good to have something familiar to clutch onto. You always were quicker on the uptake than I. Where the hell are we? The last thing I remember is Tin-kelto saying goodbye, then a series of near-disasters at a MedCentre somewhere. I think we’re still on the same planet, leaving the MedCentre area. I think we got the team off to Phoenix OK. It’s a bit hazy – things keep sort of repeating, like instant replay with variations.”

“I think you’re right, but as to where we are, your guess is as good as mine, love. We were a Cunnel a while back, but it appears we are now a General, presumably still with the Alliance. A good promotion, no? The last real promotion we had was a simultaneous one to Lieutenant in the force back in Namibia – so long ago it’s hazy now. The only General we ever met was old Enos Khumalo – remember him?”

“Of course – really good guy. But what now?”

He realised he’d said the last bit out loud when the driver looked at him strangely.

“What now? General, it’s your call. What do I tell ’em?” he asked, ready to use the commlink he’d removed from the dashboard.

Gathering his thoughts, Brad leaned forward.

“Tell them it’s all clear ahead for long enough to get us out of here. Get the crews nearest the wreck to move their asses and sort it out – now!” he added, sensing the man’s hesitation.

“Yessir!” The corporal, according to his shoulder flash, relayed the message.

“Clear ahead, hey? What brilliant clairvoyant says so? We got alien help there?” came the reply.

Brad leaned forward and grabbed the commlink mike from the Corporal’s hand. He noticed the nametag at the same time – Corporal Bryson, P, Alliance-Human Con.Worlds.

“I say so – General Coulson here. Who is this?”

“Major Lee Sir! Sorry to question the General, Sir! We’ll get right on it Sir! Begging the General’s pardon, but the scouts were worried about an ambush. But if it’s your say so, then it’s good enough for us, Sir!”

“It bloody well should be, Major.” That’s more like it, he thought as he sat back again, remembering to hand the mike back to Corporal Bryson, P.

“You could get used to this, my love,” Linda giggled in his head.

“No, I couldn’t, and the sooner we get out of this lot the better. Where the hell are we, and why? And how the hell did I get to be a General? I sincerely hope I don’t have to find out.”

The convoy started again, moving slowly past the wrecked vehicle. Human body parts were being torched by a group of soldiers wielding a rod that gushed white flame. Brad looked away, sickened. He was glad the vehicle was airtight.

“Nothing ahead now, Sir?” Bryson turned his head slightly.

“No, Corporal, you heard me. And next time I ask you to call anyone, identify yourself properly – avoid embarrassing replies. Now, get us ahead of this lot – I want a clear run in front.”

“Against Marshal Oxford’s express orders, Sir. We have to remain in the middle – extra precaution if we’re hit. They usually go-”

“Corporal Bryson, are you giving me a lecture on battle tactics? I said move to the front now, you hear me, soldier?” His tone left no room for questions.

“Yessir!” Bryson shot back, gunning the motor and shooting out to one side before taking off and roaring to the front of the convoy a metre above the ground.

Brad took a deep breath. He hadn’t expected that. At least they spoke Standard English here. He realised he’d have to look cool whatever was thrown his way though, so he leaned back and tried to look cool. He wondered why the car was both airborne and ground driven. Perhaps the bigger transports were ground-bound and they had to match up. Versatile, anyway.

Scanning ahead, he began to pick up vague feelings of combined fear and aggression from a long way in front of them. As they strengthened, he became aware that there were many, many beings on the other side of the range of hills ahead. The scan was vaguely similar to the alien creature in the theatre he’d left behind – the one Tin-kelto should be taking care of right about now, if there was no time delay between his departure from Phoenix and subsequent arrival here, wherever here was.

He felt the inquisitive tentacles from over the hill probing his way again, and he blocked them out with a vengeance. He could feel their frustration – his block was absolute and probably painful.

“Corporal, bring this convoy to a halt, right here and now,” he said in what he hoped was a commanding voice.

“Sir?” Bryson answered, bringing the vehicle to a halt.

The groundcar behind them flashed its lights.

“Who’s backing me up here?” Brad asked.

Corporal Bryson looked at him strangely. “Your aide, Sir? Colonel Sanderson.”

“Get him on the blower,” Brad ordered.

“Pardon?”

“The commlink. I want to speak to him now.”

“The phone?”

“Yeah. Where you from, Corporal?” He changed the subject fast.

“Vanuatu, Sir. You have it on my ID Sir.” Corporal Bryson was staring hard at him now.

“Damn – I’d better be careful. Just relax, Corporal. It’ll be OK,” he thought to himself.

The Corporal sat back and grinned.

“Relax. Yessir”, he said, relaxing.

Brad grinned back, more with relief than anything else.

“Powers of persuasion, hey? Could be handy at times,” Linda giggled. The Corporal handed him the phone, as he called it.

“Sanderson here, Sir.”

“OK Colonel, there’s a crowd of hostiles on the other side of that ridge in the distance – I recommend we get the hell away from this road – too open. Maybe take off along to the right and cross the ridge further up. If we carry on this route, we’ll meet them head on.”

“What’s got into you, Brad? Of course there’s a bunch of hostiles ahead. That’s why we’re here – we’ve been tracking them since the MedCentre fell. Are you all right?”

“I’m more than fine, Colonel. I want my men to survive this one, understood? We go around and take them from either the side or behind – not head on. That’s suicidal.”

“But General, the current computation is for a twenty percent loss before they’re annihilated. Perfectly acceptable under the circumstances. Besides, they can scan – it’s a certainty they’ve sensed us already.”

“Don’t you worry about their scanning, Colonel. Leave that to me. And bugger the computations. We’re not going to lose twenty percent of anything, you understand. Get out of your vehicle now, I want to speak with you in private, over on that little hill to the side. Understood?”

“Yessir.”

Brad searched for a control, handle or anything to open the door, but it was featureless.

“Corporal, let me out.”

“Yessir,” Bryson said, as the rear door hinged upwards and folded into the roof slot.

He got out and ambled over towards the hill, stretching his legs and looking about surreptitiously for the Colonel. Eventually he saw a small figure making his way hurriedly towards the little mound of rocks that Brad had optimistically referred to as a hill.

Puffing with the exertion, an overweight Colonel Sanderson, J, a few medals on his chest, joined him on the biggest flat rock on the summit.

“Brad,” he saluted.

“At least the salute still looks the same,” Brad sighed with relief, returning it with what he hoped was typical high-ranking nonchalance.

“Listen, Colonel, I know we can take out the enemy up ahead without any serious losses on our part. There’s no way we’re going in like a raging bull here, understood?”

“Raging what, Sir?”

“Bull, man. It’s an animal back home - where I come from, dammit,” Brad spat. He was getting annoyed, mainly with himself.

“Just accept that I know what I’m talking about, OK?” he said with feeling. “And relax – it’s all going to be just fine,” he finished, emphasising the thought in his mind.

Colonel Sanderson settled down, relaxing visibly.

“It’s good to see you in control again, Brad,” he said with feeling. “After that fiasco at the MedCentre, I was afraid you were losing it. That bastard renegade Caretaker nearly got you. Jehovah, it was close.”

Brad took a deep breath. So, hopefully Kehaal the Caretaker was permanently taken care of. He wondered how it had finally happened, after all the previous attempts. The last scenario had ended with the Caretaker blowing his own head off, under the powerful thought Brad had thrown his way. Well, with Kehaal apparently out of it, life should be a lot easier now. It shouldn’t be long before he could get away from this present situation and back to his correct time - whatever it was.

“Wonder when we can go back then, Lin?” he thought.

“Soon, I hope. This place is really depressing. Looks like the Caretaker is finally out of the way then – do things change suddenly, or what? Hope it was the right one!”

“Yeah, hope so. I guess we just keep going and see what happens. I can see ahead easily now – the next encounter is pretty soon. Wonder why we’re still here? This could go on for a while.”

He probed the Colonel’s mind, but it was completely open. There was no telepathic talent there. He scanned the area below, and it was similarly devoid of any telepathic activity. He looked around. The convoy was spread along the sealed highway – a long, snaking collection of oddly mismatched vehicles waiting for him.

“Well then Colonel, let’s hit the road again, but follow me this time, OK?”

“OK?”

“Just do it.”

“Yes, General. You lead the way, Sir,” Colonel Sanderson reverted to formal military address.

They followed the contours of the low hills for a few kilometres, riding the rough terrain easily until Brad directed his groundcar along a dry riverbed winding through to the other side. He could see without even opening his eyes now – the enemy was encamped alongside the highway; a detachment was posted near the summit, watching the highway they’d left earlier.

“They can’t be very wide awake – none of them has an inkling of our presence,” he observed quietly. “I’ve managed to block the entire camp out,” he added to Linda.

“I can feel it too. You’ve blocked them so thoroughly they don’t have any idea we’re here.” Linda was relieved.

“This block’s effective. I guess we’re more powerful than we know,” he laughed.

“The halfbreeds aren’t very smart, Sir,” Corporal Bryson laughed with him. “No satellite links any more. Remember that time-”

“Yes, leave it for now,” Brad interrupted. “Get the Colonel on the phone again,” he ordered.

“Yes General?”

“Colonel, direct the attack yourself – they don’t know we’re here. Hit them with whatever you can to soften them up and then move in. It’ll be dark soon, by the looks of things,” he added.

“Jeez, I don’t even know what planet we’re on,” he thought.

“Doesn’t matter, Brad. We’ve won now, right across the galaxy hopefully, if that Caretaker is taken out and Tin-kelto managed to exterminate the aliens back on Phoenix. I just want to get out of this lot and go back to our time.”

“God, me too. More than anything, Lin. But I keep thinking, if Tin has taken them all out, there shouldn’t be any hybrids around, and this lot up ahead are what they call halfbreeds – the same thing, I guess.”

He stood outside the groundcar, watching as his troops were disgorged from massive carriers in the convoy, setting up what looked like primitive rockets or missiles of some sort.

“Wonder where the hell they got this assortment of ordnance?”

“No idea. We’re so far in the future now things would seem strange, whatever we come across, love. But this stuff looks disturbingly familiar.”

With a loud hiss, a bank of missiles took off and headed silently out towards the enemy encampment. They saw the flashes and heard the thudding explosions a second later. More missiles left their cradles.

“Should soften them up nicely, General,” the Corporal said as he stood with the phone in his hand, ready to relay anything his General may wish. Brad wondered why he was wearing a commlink if he relayed everything through this young man.

Another bank of missiles swooshed away and thudded over the rise ahead. Brad turned to find the Colonel trotting towards him.

“Time to go in, Sir,” he said as Brad returned his salute. “The men appreciate it when you appear on the scene, Brad – it gave them a definite edge during those last two encounters. Long time since we saw leadership like that – right from the top,” he smiled.

Brad followed Sanderson’s car towards the flashes and thuds, and ground to a halt on top of the rise looking down on the enemy encampment.

The hybrid force was totally unprepared for a full-scale attack from its flank. They’d concentrated their defensive equipment just below the crest of the hill, looking along the highway which Brad and the convoy had left earlier. Their oddly shaped vehicles were scattered untidily out behind domed shelters, and a few shuttle-like craft were parked at the furthest edge.

As they watched, their own line of soldiers moved relentlessly forward, mowing down the nearest surviving hybrids and destroying the domes as they passed. Return fire was sporadic at best. Groups of hybrids made it to the aircraft and one by one the silvery shapes took off silently and slid off over the horizon. Four managed to make it before Brad’s men set up a missile launcher and took out the remaining four on the ground.

Off in the distance a cloud of dust indicated a few enemy transports scurrying away – the few that managed to escape the initial missile onslaught.

“Our fighters can mop those up later, General,” Colonel Sanderson said. His driver was speaking rapidly into his phone. Brad sat on a rock with the Colonel and watched the scene dispassionately.

“Hell, I don’t know who these people are, where we are or what this is really all about,” he thought to himself, but of course Linda was there, watching not quite as dispassionately as he.

“They’re your men, love. You owe it to them to lead, as seems to be expected. I guess you’ll have to put in an appearance down there among them.”

“Guess you’re right,” Brad grunted as he got to his feet, realising again that he’d spoken out loud. Colonel Sanderson looked questioningly at him, but made no comment.

“Let’s get down there, Colonel,” he said, moving down the slope towards the battle in progress. There seemed to be no real danger – the fighting was very one-sided and nearly over. He moved slowly.

Try as he may, he could feel no passion for the events just witnessed. He felt detached, aloof, apart from the action, as if it was all staged or on some monitor and he was lying back idly watching a playback recorded from another time altogether.

“Since you broke away from that standoff situation and made the first move, we’re taking them more and more easily, General,” the puffing Colonel said at his side. When there was no reply, he continued.

“It’s like squashing swarms of fremming bugs, really. Almost feel sorry for the filth, at times. Look at that lot there,” he pointed to where a group of hybrids, more human-looking than the rest, had surrendered, hands in the air as they came out of one of the larger domes that had just been hit with a blast of laser fire. They were unceremoniously mowed down without the least display of compassion, Brad noted with disgust. He felt their anguish as the intensely hot bolts sheared through their composite bodies.

They toured the area as the operation was being mopped up. Soldiers smiled and saluted with vigour as he passed, until his arm began to ache with the effort of returning them. Medics moved among the corpses before they were cremated, extracting tissue samples which they stored in carefully sealed containers. Some of them were dissecting the more bizarre examples of hybrid beings, recording images and taking more samples.

Flames licking the charred corpses lit the scene eerily, contrasting vividly with the now dark sky with its rolling black clouds. Lightning flashed over the hills, and a low peal of thunder sounded gloomily. His spirits needed lifting badly, he thought. This was like a scene from one of the archived records on Prime, of the primitive and devastating Earthwars in the early twentieth century.

“Filth should never have been allowed to get into our galaxy in the first place,” Colonel Sanderson observed, spitting at a corpse lying nearby. “Pity we let so many of them get away this time. Still, losses are under two percent – best ever.” He smiled.

Brad stopped and took a closer look at the corpse Sanderson had spat on. A missile of some sort buzzed by just above them, and the Colonel ducked instinctively. Brad ignored it, and then focussed on the projectile, taking a breath. This time he didn’t have to shout, or do anything other than visualise its destruction to guide it away and explode it harmlessly at some distance from the men. There were open looks of admiration from a group of soldiers who were cremating corpses with their flame rods.

“Way to go, General!” he heard a shout, and acknowledged it with a casual wave. He moved on, slowly inspecting the carnage scattered around. A blackened body lying at his feet resembled the alien that had arisen from the table back on Phoenix very closely. It had the same head, with protruding eyes and long, many digited bony hands, and he wondered how Tin-kelto had managed with the alien and his nursery of juveniles.

Sighing, he rose again and looked around, and then froze.

It was instant replay time again, with small changes in the scenery. The sky was a shade lighter and they were back on the hill. The Colonel was approaching from his car, a grin on his face.

“General, I’ve got the men moving forward now – they’ll be there within a few seconds,” he said as Brad noticed the troop carriers, empty of their human cargoes, moving back on their heavy tracks from the direction of some explosions.

Brad paused, listening to the Colonel carefully. His words hadn’t matched up with the movements his mouth had made. It was like watching a badly dubbed foreign presentation.

“Would you repeat that, Colonel?” he requested.

The Colonel who was looking at him with a puzzled expression, and then stopped, standing dead still.

The sky lightened slightly. Another replay – Brad stood still, trying to figure out what was happening. A few moments later, Colonel Sanderson, his phone to one ear, beckoned Brad closer and smiled.

“We can go in, now. All clear.” Again, the movement of his lips didn’t match what Brad heard.

Expecting at any moment to have the scenery jump back again, Brad followed the Colonel over the hill. Their groundcars, evidently in hover mode now, glided a few centimetres above the smooth ground on the crest of the hill. As rocks appeared, the cars would automatically rise to clear them, silently lowering again as they slid silently forward.

“He’s taking out the juveniles – that’s what’s happening. Tin-kelto took out the alien adult and a timeline changed. As he takes out more juveniles, the timelines will cross again and again – at least that’s what I figure,” Linda’s thoughts intruded.

“I guess you’re right. Each juvenile, if it survived, would change the timeline as it altered genetically. At any other time, I’d think I was cracking up. This is weird.”

The scene of carnage was horrific. At least two hundred corpses and countless bits of alien hybrid bodies lay scattered about the area, with metal shards and twisted steel sheeting completing the picture of devastation. Brad walked side by side with the Colonel, inspecting the nearest corpses. The soldiers they passed cheered and saluted with gusto as Brad looked at the charred remains on the ground – the more intact ones recognisable as vaguely human.

Some were more insect-looking and some were more humanoid in appearance, but all were distinctly hybrids. Brad sat on a pile of stones to one side of the scene, joined a moment later by the Colonel. They surveyed the scene in silence for a few minutes. The cremation crew was torching a pile of their own men who had been killed.

“Can’t take any chances – the DNA must be destroyed completely,” the Colonel observed as he shook his head sadly. “From so many worlds. The galaxy’s just been a giant breeding nursery for this filth to use for their survival, never mind about us. This was the first of the halfbreed Coalition to get this far,” Colonel Sanderson remarked.

Brad tried not to watch him speak – it was confusing watching his mouth uttering something completely different.

“We came up against them on Moringa Three and the Rovellian worlds out on the Rim last month, but they were wiped out long before they got this close to Karaban. They aren’t fighters – like you said earlier, they rely completely on computers. The configurations were all wrong for their attempt at defence.”

He spat contemptuously at a nearby corpse. Waiting for a response that didn’t come, the Colonel continued.

“You were right, Brad. It would have been a continuous stalemate if we’d relied solely on our computers for much longer, like the Section Masters out on Prime demanded. They would have watched as we simply whittled each other down, relying on our computed configurations and counter configurations to balance each other. Battle tactics programmed by the best computer geniuses are no match for the unexpected, your ‘wildcard’ you called it, as you proved. How did you know the Section Masters were part alien? If we hadn’t got that one right, who knows how it would have gone? Hell, we lost more men during the second phase of the Rim campaign than we did the whole time-”

“Yeah, yeah. So – how many more of these idiotic campaigns are up ahead, I wonder?” he said.

Colonel Sanderson peered at him in the gloom.

“General, are you well Sir? You’re not making too much sense. It was your change of tactics that decided the outcome of all of the campaigns. This sector of the Rim is almost clear now, after this lot. We’ll find the skimmers that took off – our fighters back at base have already detected them,” he added, looking down at a glowing pad on his arm.

Brad wondered idly why he didn’t have any of the fancy instruments the Colonel seemed to wear. Maybe he had some hi-tech stuff in his car – he’d have to look a little more closely if he was to remain here for any length of time. Sanderson took a breath and carried on speaking.

“As you said earlier, Brad, there are only two worlds out here left under halfbreed control – Visnor and Sernica, and if we hit them with the same disregard for those computed recommendations and predictions, if we follow your lead again, we should have the first Sector of the Rim completely clear by the end of this cycle. Then we can muster our remaining human forces on Visnor before taking out the next sector. More than half the Rim will be under our control then, and the final campaign can begin.”

Brad grunted what he thought was non-committally. The Colonel seemed pleased to find him agreeing.

“A far cry from this time last cycle. We lost so many good men. Good human beings. The ’breeds are no match really, as you predicted. They can’t plan aggressively. You knew that, but nobody else seemed to. You knew all along, didn’t you? Waiting for orders from Prime would have wiped us out. If we hadn’t disregarded those standard battle tactics – but that’s the plan you formulated, isn’t it, Brad?”

“Yeah, fortunately it was obvious to me,” he said, hoping what he said made sense. He was tiring of the Colonel’s repetitive praise.

He sighed, stretching and getting to his feet slowly.

“Well, I guess I’m a little stressed out, Colonel. You’ll have to make allowances.”

“Right. What happened to John then, Brad? Since when were we so formal on our own? I thought we were buddies. We go back a long time, you and I. Battle getting to you?” He didn’t wait for a reply, standing up himself and moving back towards his groundcar which had settled onto the stony surface with a sigh.

In the gathering gloom, the dismembered bodies and parts were being cremated as fast as the thermal-suited soldiers could manage to manipulate their flame rods. He sighed, smelling the singed flesh and gristle of the human-insect mixture, gagging slightly as he felt Linda’s revulsion.

He got up and moved towards the Colonel’s groundcar, intending to try to get more information out of this man who was apparently his friend. He would need more background if they were to function properly, with him in command of this force of humans, whoever they were. He’d better start using the Colonel’s first name too.

He noticed Corporal Bryson nearby, and motioned him closer, turning to look once more at the awful scene behind him. As he began to speak to his Corporal he saw Colonel Sanderson advancing toward him, his face a picture of happiness. The sky suddenly lightened a touch.

“Oh my God, instant reply time again. What the hell now?” Brad noticed with dismay.

“The timelines are crossing again, love. Depending on what Tin-kelto is doing, the future paths are diverging once more, as he said they would. A few more juveniles, altering the line?”

“You’re right, of course, but I’m getting bloody tired of this. We’ll just have to keep going along with whatever happens – keep sharp and hang in.”

Sanderson was speaking, and Brad leaned forward, listening intently.

“Uhwallah nongormista, Jennil. Usama wanto from istila onbegrade for smoots on wagnor. Visna off wento moggabenna foss, intol wisnevsk offwerk sommer inch?”

Brad stared in amazement. He couldn’t understand a single word, but he knew exactly what the Colonel had said – seeing images that followed the spoken words as they formed. As he was considering this, the Colonel appeared to jump back twenty metres.

Colonel Sanderson approached him again with a grin on his face.

“Right as always, Brad. How the hell did you know where they were? Well, the ’breeds are all gone, every last one of them. That incredible shout of yours did the trick again. What the hell was that anyway? I’ve never seen anything like it. Talk about devastation – hell I-”

He didn’t complete the sentence, disappearing suddenly, and then Brad noticed him walking out from behind his command vehicle fifty metres away. He realised then that in all the other scenarios they’d been speaking in a variety of different dialects, based on Standard English mainly, and he’d been able to understand them perfectly – but more amazingly, they’d understood him when he spoke back. In all the flashbacks, the words had sounded like Standard English, but a very different language was evidently being used. He shook his head, marvelling, and looked around.

He’d disappeared again. This time there was no sign of him, or of any of the vehicles backing them up. Brad looked back to where the Corporal had been leaning against his groundcar, and cursed. There was no sign of any vehicle, Corporal or in fact anything at all but the empty hills and crystal clear, darkening sky. He was alone – they were alone.

“What now, my love? It’s evidently all over, which means there are no aliens or hybrids left – they never existed. But where are the humans?” Linda asked.

Brad looked up at the stars brightening as the darkness gathered swiftly.

“They wouldn’t have been out here either, wherever here is. The only reason they were out here was to battle the halfbreeds, I guess. Looking at the sky, I would estimate we’re far out on the Rim. The human diaspora was the result of alien interference all along, not so?”

“Yeah, it was that. So now what? We’re stuck here on this grim little planet somewhere out on the Rim, and I suppose we’ll have to find our way back. Tin-kelto seemed to think you’d know how when the time came. So, I guess we’d better try to find a network connection and go home.”

Brad looked around at the empty hills and sighed.

“Where’s home, love?” he asked.

“You need to ask, husband?”

Brad smiled and together they concentrated on their adopted home planet Misra, on the beach of pink shells and waving palm-like trees; on the little thatched cottage nestling against the background hills. That was where they would sit and gaze out over the Serenta Sea in the evenings, drinking wine and watching the purple ball of Versa sink slowly behind the pale blue waters.

Nothing. He felt mildly shocked. He’d never felt such a lack of response to any attempt at opening a network Gateway before.

“Feel anything, Lin?”

“Nothing, Brad. That’s a bit odd. I wonder why? Don’t tell me we’re stuck out here.” He could feel her distress.

He tried again, with Linda joining in. They concentrated as hard as they could, imagining the green hills flanking the Dragonback Mountains; the brown sandy beach lining the Serenta Sea in front of their pink granite mansion on Murra continent; the neat, clean City with its granite and glass buildings, but there was no response - nothing there at all.

“Brad, I’m scared. Let’s try somewhere else.”

“Like where?” He thought for a while. “OK then, let’s try Phoenix. It was after all, the last place we were at.”

Again they concentrated in harmony, but once more there was no feedback. They tried Prime – no good. The Norwegian colony world of Ny Christiania; some of the planets Brad had visited on his tasks with Kahana. Nothing materialised. None of the destinations he attempted to locate sent back any responding signal.

“Why? That’s the question,” he murmured aloud. His voice sounded hollow, lost in the emptiness of the deserted planet. “I don’t even know where we are, for God’s sake,” he complained.

“Of course, there’s always the most obvious one of all, my love. Earth,” she added when he stopped, puzzled.

“Yeah, good old Mother Earth. You know, maybe if there are no colonies anywhere, the network settings have altered. The destinations are probably different, and maybe not available unless terraformed – some sort of safety factor. You wouldn’t want to be dumped in a planet still geologically unstable, or with a poisonous atmosphere. Hell, maybe the network isn’t functioning yet. Maybe it doesn’t even exist in this timeline. What do you think?”

“I think we should try, anyway.”

“Yeah - seems reasonable. Until now the network’s been closed on all routes back to Earth, but things have changed somewhat. And anyway, we have a lot more flexibility now – that chip implant altered the way I’m seeing things. Maybe we don’t even need the network – we got here without it. OK then, let’s try for Earth, Linda my love.”

Once again, synchronising their efforts, they concentrated on the planet they’d left more than fifty three standard years ago for the last time. As they felt themselves slipping into the darkness of a network path, Brad felt Linda’s hand slipping into his, and it felt as real as when they’d been separate entities; friends, partners, lovers, husband and wife. He smiled and relaxed. They were going home.