Edward.
Aye aye sir!
The air filled with yellow stasis gas, the masts retracted and the storm canopy closed down. The
Captain Morgan
hurtled through time.
LATER SOME SAME EVENING IN 300,000 BCE
When the gas cleared, when the ship had righted itself, Edward unfastened the harness and they got to their feet.
“Where are we?” said Alec. There was darkness beyond the portholes.
By thunder, that took some navigating! 300,000 BCE , lying off an island what ain’t there in our time. See that light to starboard? That’s the facility. It’s about eight bells in the second dog-watch, if time hadany meaning here, which it don’t, but a night raid’s better. I’ve just sent the communication to the guard. He’ll be expecting you, but not so soon. Best for our purposes if you take him by surprise.
“Very good,” said Edward. With a gesture something like an elaborate stretch he assured himself that all his hidden weapons were where they ought to be. “The air-boat travels fairly swiftly, doesn’t it? We’ll take that ashore.”
Already powering up, sir.
“I will say this once.” Edward turned to the others. “I’m in command on this mission. Do not, at any time, attempt to wrest control from me. If what you see dismays you, avert your eyes. Is that understood?”
The other two nodded.
“Then we’re off, gentlemen,” Edward said. He gave a bleak smile. “God and Saint George!”
“For Mendoza,” said Alec. They clasped hands and went out on deck.
It was a short journey across black water, toward a blur of sulphur-colored light that flickered. Nicholas, half expecting the fires of Hell, was thoroughly unnerved by the time they arrived there. The agboat settled just above the tideline and Edward leaped out, Alec and Nicholas following. They found they had to run as he ran, in silence, through the night toward the illumination they now saw was steady, occluded only by the silhouette of a turning wheel, some kind of gear mechanism throwing strange shadows along the approach to the building.
When they came close enough to see the scurrying legs and working arms, they froze for a moment. Alec gave a nervous chuckle. Then he realized what he was seeing and doubled over, retching. Nicholas nearly followed suit. Edward waited, watching them; when he judged they had recovered enough he strode on, and the others had no choice but to scramble after him.
They came around the corner and saw the old couch, the refrigeration unit, and the doorway. There was a waggish sign tacked up above the door, hand-lettered: THE BUREAU OF PUNITIVE MEDICINE , it read.
Edward set his shoulders and strode through the doorway.
He was struck at once by a suffocating wave of smell. It was compounded of chemicals and some kind of animal musk, of blood, and charred tissue, and ozone. Invisible behind him, Alec retched again,clutching at the doorway. Nicholas looked into that great room with its gleaming instruments and bright lights. No brazier of coals, no fearful rusted iron to grow red-hot there; tidily bottled acids instead, powered drills, marvels of technology that would have made the hooded monks envious. Still, Nicholas recognized what he was seeing.
Eloi, Eloi, lama sabancthani—
Shut your mouth,
Edward told him, and continued forward.
They saw a vast back, bending over a table. As they drew closer, Marco rose and turned.
“You’re early,” he observed.
The Captain prompted, and Edward said:
“Penal Specialist Marco? I’m here for the transfer of the prisoner Mendoza.”
He was doing his best not to stare, as Alec and Nicholas were staring transfixed, at the shuddering thing on the table, or the fluids that were daubed liberally across the front of Marco’s black rubberized raincoat.
But Marco was looking at Edward, fascinated. He set down the tool he had been using and stepped closer, sniffing the air carefully. His eyes began to glow with a certain humor.
“It’s here. But what are you? You’re something
Aye aye sir!
The air filled with yellow stasis gas, the masts retracted and the storm canopy closed down. The
Captain Morgan
hurtled through time.
LATER SOME SAME EVENING IN 300,000 BCE
When the gas cleared, when the ship had righted itself, Edward unfastened the harness and they got to their feet.
“Where are we?” said Alec. There was darkness beyond the portholes.
By thunder, that took some navigating! 300,000 BCE , lying off an island what ain’t there in our time. See that light to starboard? That’s the facility. It’s about eight bells in the second dog-watch, if time hadany meaning here, which it don’t, but a night raid’s better. I’ve just sent the communication to the guard. He’ll be expecting you, but not so soon. Best for our purposes if you take him by surprise.
“Very good,” said Edward. With a gesture something like an elaborate stretch he assured himself that all his hidden weapons were where they ought to be. “The air-boat travels fairly swiftly, doesn’t it? We’ll take that ashore.”
Already powering up, sir.
“I will say this once.” Edward turned to the others. “I’m in command on this mission. Do not, at any time, attempt to wrest control from me. If what you see dismays you, avert your eyes. Is that understood?”
The other two nodded.
“Then we’re off, gentlemen,” Edward said. He gave a bleak smile. “God and Saint George!”
“For Mendoza,” said Alec. They clasped hands and went out on deck.
It was a short journey across black water, toward a blur of sulphur-colored light that flickered. Nicholas, half expecting the fires of Hell, was thoroughly unnerved by the time they arrived there. The agboat settled just above the tideline and Edward leaped out, Alec and Nicholas following. They found they had to run as he ran, in silence, through the night toward the illumination they now saw was steady, occluded only by the silhouette of a turning wheel, some kind of gear mechanism throwing strange shadows along the approach to the building.
When they came close enough to see the scurrying legs and working arms, they froze for a moment. Alec gave a nervous chuckle. Then he realized what he was seeing and doubled over, retching. Nicholas nearly followed suit. Edward waited, watching them; when he judged they had recovered enough he strode on, and the others had no choice but to scramble after him.
They came around the corner and saw the old couch, the refrigeration unit, and the doorway. There was a waggish sign tacked up above the door, hand-lettered: THE BUREAU OF PUNITIVE MEDICINE , it read.
Edward set his shoulders and strode through the doorway.
He was struck at once by a suffocating wave of smell. It was compounded of chemicals and some kind of animal musk, of blood, and charred tissue, and ozone. Invisible behind him, Alec retched again,clutching at the doorway. Nicholas looked into that great room with its gleaming instruments and bright lights. No brazier of coals, no fearful rusted iron to grow red-hot there; tidily bottled acids instead, powered drills, marvels of technology that would have made the hooded monks envious. Still, Nicholas recognized what he was seeing.
Eloi, Eloi, lama sabancthani—
Shut your mouth,
Edward told him, and continued forward.
They saw a vast back, bending over a table. As they drew closer, Marco rose and turned.
“You’re early,” he observed.
The Captain prompted, and Edward said:
“Penal Specialist Marco? I’m here for the transfer of the prisoner Mendoza.”
He was doing his best not to stare, as Alec and Nicholas were staring transfixed, at the shuddering thing on the table, or the fluids that were daubed liberally across the front of Marco’s black rubberized raincoat.
But Marco was looking at Edward, fascinated. He set down the tool he had been using and stepped closer, sniffing the air carefully. His eyes began to glow with a certain humor.
“It’s here. But what are you? You’re something
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