The Reluctant Warrior (22 page)

“Well, this is it,” Jonathon said, as they reached the valley floor and stood before the enormous dome, “the not so fabled city of Chantros.”

Chief led the way to the doors. “This is the only way into the city that I know about.”

Rex walked up to the dome and checked it out. “I can’t see any doors,” he said eventually.

Chief grinned. “The opening is completely invisible. I only know that the doors are here because the last time I went through them I made a note that they were between that tree and that large rock sticking up out of the ground.”

“So how the dickens are we going to get in?”

“It only opens from the inside. You will only get in if they decide to let you in.”

“We’ll see about that,” Rex growled, as he unshouldered his rifle and sent the butt crashing into the smooth glass of the dome.

Jed laughed as he witnessed the rifle bounce back out of his friend’s hands. It appeared whatever material the dome was made out of was extra hard.

“There’s no breaking it,” Chief said, as the laughter died away. “It’s been tried many times before. Montrose even kindled a huge fire against it, but it didn’t even blacken the glass.”

Rex pressed his face to the surface and tried to peer inside.

“What can you see?” Jed wished he had his leg back right at this moment so that he could join Rex in seeing inside the magnificent dome.

“I can’t see more than a few yards in because it’s not really glass.” He tapped the dome several times with his knuckles which produced a ringing noise. “It’s kinda hazy looking, like Perspex.” He suddenly leapt back from the dome in fright. “There’s a man there, and he’s looking straight back at me. He’s a big man too, must be well over seven feet tall.”

“That would be one of the Chantrosians,” Chief said. “He’s come to see who’s trying to break into his city.”

Rex went back to where he had seen him.”Hello,” he called out, placing his palms against the dome in a gesture of friendship. “We mean you no harm it is merely your help we seek.”

A tall blond-haired man stared silently back at him for a moment before directing his eyes towards the rest of the party.

Rex looked over his shoulder at Chief. “Does he speak our language?”

“All Chantrosians speak the Sky-Gods language.”

“Take me to him,” Jed insisted. “I want to speak to him.”

The stretcher was placed on the ground before the dome, and Jed balanced on one leg in front of the door with an arm around Rex’s neck to steady himself. “We have travelled from far away to seek your help,” he began, “from a people who call themselves the Noragin.”

“The tall man slowly took him in, from his missing leg all the way up to his pain filled eyes.”

“You are not a Noragin,” he said, in the most perfectly spoken English, “you are an American.”

He knows much more than the people of this world do Jed thought. He knows Sky-Gods are really Americans. He must be thinking I’m one of Montrose’s men and this is a ruse to get into the city. “Yes, you are right in saying I am not a Noragin. But I am not in league with the Americans led by Colonel Charles Montrose. I am here to seek your help in defeating Montrose.”

The man looked past Jed to where the others stood. “You have no Noragin with you,” he said suspiciously.

Jed pointed to Amora. “She is a Noragin.”

“It is not unusual for American men to have Noragin women with them. Always against their will,” he added. “Her presence is meaningless.”

Amora stepped towards the dome. “I am not held against my will,” she insisted. “This man is my betrothed, and he is a good man who is trying to save my people from the Sky-Gods.”

The man of Chantros looked intently into Amora’s eyes, and Jed could tell he was mining them for the truth. “What help did you expect us to give you?” he asked Jed, now looking into his eyes.

“I didn’t expect you to give us any help,” Jed answered. “I just hoped that you would as I was told you are a people of peace. As a people of peace I knew you would hate men of violence as much as I do.”

“You presume a lot, American.”

“I am a desperate man who is throwing himself at the mercy of the Chantrosians,” Jed said. “I cannot defeat Montrose without your help, and if he is not defeated then this world and all who live in it are doomed.”

“We are a city in peril,” the Chantrosian revealed. “The Americans infected us with a disease they called meningitis. We have no cure for this disease as our scientists could come up with nothing to save our people’s lives.” He directed his gaze at Jed’s comrades. “We do not want you bringing a new disease into the city.”

“We are carrying no diseases.”

He looked Jed up and down again. “You do not look like you are very well.”

“I am only wounded,” Jed insisted. “None of us are carrying any diseases.”

The Chantrosian looked into Amora’s eyes again. “We can be of no use to you,” he answered Jed while still with his eyes locked on Amora’s. “Most of our scientists along with the majority of our people have been frozen in the sleep chambers for the last sixty years until we can find a cure.”

Jed had an idea. “Jonathon, bring me my pack.” Rummaging around inside his pack he pulled out the last tube of penicillin. “This is our cure for meningitis,” he said.

The man’s eyes flicked immediately back to Jed.

“The medicine in this tube is old and may no longer be effective,” Jed continued. “But if you analyze it in your laboratory you may be able to make up some fresh batches.”

The Chantrosian’s eyes locked onto the tube longingly. “You have cured meningitis with it?”

“Many times in my land, and especially if it is given to the patient early it can be most effective.”

“And you wish to trade it for a weapon to destroy Montrose?”

“That was not my intention. I didn’t know your people had meningitis. In fact, I didn’t know Chantros even existed until a week or so ago.”

“But now you know of our predicament you wish to make a trade?”

“I could certainly use whatever weapon you have to defeat Montrose,” Jed said. “But I will give you the cure even if you don’t give me help because your people are suffering and need it.”

“Tell your warriors to leave all their weapons in a pile outside,” the man said suddenly, “then I will let you in.”

Jed signaled to his men to drop their weapons and then waited as the man activated the doors. As if by magic an opening appeared in the dome and Jed got his first unimpeded look at the man of Chantros. He was over seven feet tall by Jed’s reckoning, with shoulder length white hair and very pale skin, much paler than even the Noragin, and he carried about his person the most noblest bearing.

“Enter,” the man said, beckoning to Jed, and then with Rex’s help Jed stepped through into the city of Chantros.

“My name is Zarros,” the man said, once they were all inside and the doors had been closed. “Please follow me.”

The troop were led down a two lane paved road lined with trees for at least fifteen minutes until they emerged into the city centre. Jed couldn’t stifle a little gasp at the beauty of the place. Every dwelling was built of the same material as the dome itself but each one consisted of all the colors of the rainbow that glistened and sparkled in the light shining through the roof of the dome.

The roof of the dome was as clear as glass, unlike the sides that had been opaque. A few vehicles hovered above the eerily deserted streets, and Jed didn’t have any difficulty in believing that this race of men was far superior in technology than any in his world.

“We lost nearly a third of our people to this disease before we sent them to the sleep chambers,” Zarros explained. “The death rate amongst our children and babies was especially high.”

“Jed thrust the tube of penicillin into Zarros’s hand. “Hopefully this will prevent any more from dying.”

The Chantrosian stared optimistically at the tube in the palm of his hand for a moment. “If it does then we will be forever grateful to you.”

“I believe a man should always help another in his time of need,” Jed said.

“Ah yes, we must do something about your problem too.”

“A Chantrosian problem as well if what you have told me is anything to judge by. Montrose has done this to you and he will try again until he has control of not only your people but your city as well.”

Zarros looked intently at the tube of penicillin again. “Yes, you are right, and he must be stopped. We will give you whatever help we can.”

“Now it is our turn to be forever grateful,” Jed said humbly.

For the first time Zarros smiled. “If only all American’s were like you.”

“Don’t judge every American by Montrose’s conduct,” Jed pleaded. “Most Americans would be shocked if they knew what he has done.”

With a slow nod of his head Zarros then turned and continued to lead the party into the heart of the city.

“We have analyzed the substance you gave us,” Zarros said to Jed later on that day. “It is so simple and yet so brilliant that I wonder we have never stumbled upon it ourselves. Penicillin…I think you called it?”

“Yes,” said Jed, “and we only stumbled upon it ourselves by accident, but it has cured many diseases amongst our people over the years.”

“And so it will amongst ours,” Zarros said happily. “The laboratory is making up batches of it as we speak. We will start treating our people in the sleep chambers within the next few days.”

“I am glad. It is a cruel disease that your people never deserved to have.”

“Because so many of our people died in the first year that it struck we were forced to put our top scientists into the sleep chambers along with everyone else so as to protect the knowledge they possessed,” Zarros confided.

“Then without them it was impossible to come up with a cure,” Jed said.

“Exactly, it was what you Americans call a…catch twenty-two situation.”

“You said Montrose gave your people meningitis. How did that come about?”

Zarros explained how Montrose had turned up at the city one day after having discovered it from the air. At first he was friendly, and for two years there had been good relations between the Americans and Chantrosians. Then things began to sour. Montrose had started to demand that Chantros share its technology with him, and when the demands led on to threats he was told never to visit the city again. Nothing was heard from him for a while until one day helicopters landed and sick Americans were left at the doors to Chantros. The Chantrosians in their naivety took them in and cared for them, little realizing that Montrose had left them there to deliberately infect the people of Chantros, knowing full well that they would have no immunity.

The sick Americans all died. But before they did they passed on a message from Montrose that when the Chantrosians all fell sick and began to die he would return to take control of the city, and then make it his headquarters from where he would rule their world. To stop him they did the only thing they could. They locked the doors to Chantros, and they had remained locked these past sixty years.

Montrose had eventually returned and tried to get into the city, even landing his helicopters on the roof of the dome, but the city was impregnable and so he hadn’t been back since.

“He may try again,” Jed warned, “he knows we have come to you for help.”

“He will not be able to get in,” Zarros assured him, “But he does know about the Time Box, for he has seen it. If we give it to you and he captures it then you cannot hope to defeat him.”

Jed hadn’t counted on Montrose knowing about the weapon, but he should have realized he would. Montrose must have heard the stories about it in pretty much the same way Jed had.

“We have no other weapons we can give you,” Zarros said, “for centuries ago we decided to give up all weapons of war. The Time Box was kept only for defense purposes. If someone broke into the city and defeat looked imminent we could take time back to a point before the attack and better prepare ourselves for it. It is not really a weapon of war, although I guess it could be used as such.”

“Why did you not use the Time Box to go back and undo the effects of the meningitis outbreak?”

“Ah…if only we could have,” Zarros said wistfully. “But because our people came down with it so quickly and began to die within days of the Americans arriving in the city we could do nothing. You see, to save the others who were still either in the early stages of the disease we had to freeze them in the sleep chamber immediately, and because we use a special and very rare form of gas to preserve life in the chamber we were unable to use the Time Box.”

“I don’t understand. Why would you not be able to use it?”

“The gas is a substance that prevents anything from penetrating it, even the rays from the Time Box. So although those of us who were not frozen could still go back in time we could not take those in the sleep chamber back with us, they would forever be lost somewhere out there in the fabric of time.”

“That’s pretty heavy stuff.”

Zarros looked at him curiously. “No, the gas does not weigh much at all.”

Jed laughed. “Heavy stuff is just another American figure of speech.”

“Ah…you Americans like your little sayings,” Zarros said with a smile.

“Anyway, we will do all we can to prevent Montrose from capturing the Time Box,” Jed promised, bringing the conversation back to the matter at hand.

“Destroy it before allowing it to fall into his hands,” Zarros urged. “With the Time Box he would eventually conquer your world as well as this one.”

A device like that in the hands of a man like Montrose was unthinkable. Nothing would be able to stand in his way, he would simply replay time whenever events didn’t go the way he wanted them to, and then learning from the experience would make him stronger until he had attained invincibility.

Jed thought about what might have happened if Hitler had ever stumbled across the device. He would have without question won the Second World War, and then his policy of exterminating those races he considered inferior would have gone global. Would Montrose follow in those maniacs footsteps? Jed had no doubt that he was insane enough to try.

Zarros was looking down at Jed’s crutch. “How did you lose your leg?”

“I got badly wounded attacking Montrose’s compound.”

Zarros’s curiosity was piqued. “Attacking his compound?”

“To destroy his helicopters,” Jed explained.

“And were you successful?”

“We destroyed all but one. We went back and got that chopper later.”

Zarros was impressed. “You did well.”

“I didn’t do too badly,” Jed confessed, “especially since I am not a military man.”

“I had already picked up on that fact earlier,” Zarros said, and then smiled. “You do not have the aggressive streak of a true military man.”

“You can tell that from such a short acquaintance?”

“I am many, many, centuries old,” the Chantrosian revealed. “I am much older than the oldest living Noragin, and so I have had much time to learn to read a man.”

“Yes, I suppose you have.” Jed noticed Zarros was still looking intently at where his amputated leg had once been. “I guess you are wondering how I can run this campaign with only one leg.”

“That thought had crossed my mind.”

“I am getting around quite well on this crutch my friends made for me, and by the time we leave I think I may just have mastered the use of it.”

“I think we can do much better for you than that.”

The comment sent off a spark of hope in Jed’s tired brain. “Do you have some sort of bionic leg you could give me?”

“We left bionic’s behind centuries ago.” He walked across to a computer and flicked it on. “This is a regenerator,” he said, pointing to an object that had appeared on the screen. “We use it mostly for patients with heart, liver, and kidney trouble. Placing them inside not only keeps them alive after surgery has removed the malfunctioning organ but also grows them a healthy new one.”

“That’s incredible.”

“It was many hundreds of years in the perfecting but has been one of our greatest achievements,” Zarros said proudly. “If you are willing we will place you into the regenerator and restore your leg.”

Jed’s heart skipped a beat. “You mean it will actually grow my leg back?”

“Because you still have some of your thigh there is enough genetic material left for the regenerator to create a new leg.”

“How long would I need to be in the machine?”

“About twenty-four hours. But I must warn you,” Zarros said, solemn faced, “there are sometimes side effects.”

Now Jed’s heart sank. Here comes the kicker he thought, and it will be the reason why the machine wouldn’t work for him. “What sort of side effects?”

“Sometimes it ages a person.”

Jed grimaced. At 34 years old he was still a young man, but what if the machine put 20 years or more on his dial?

“For a person of this world they may age 100 years or so, but because your life span is only about 80 years we have no idea what it may do to you.”

“So you’re saying that it might age me so far that it kills me?”

Zarros nodded. “It is a possibility. We have never regenerated one of your people before so the risk is unknown.”

Jed tossed the idea around in his head. What good would he really be commanding an army from a stretcher? What use would he be to Amora? He wouldn’t be able to farm her family land like she had planned. Then, of course, he didn’t relish the prospect of living the rest of his life as a cripple in a world that was not set up to be invalid friendly. “I would still like to go ahead with it,” he said eventually.

Zarros nodded. “The regenerator shall be ready for you tomorrow.”

Jed told his friends about the procedure his was about to undertake but decided to keep its risk to himself. He knew Amora would vehemently oppose anything that would risk his life anywhere other than on the battlefield. Rex and Jonathon might just try to talk him out of it too, and he wasn’t sure they wouldn’t be successful. He wasn’t a hundred percent sure he was doing the right thing himself and so he needed all the encouragement he could get to go through with it, and if the two men didn’t know the risk involved then they would give him that encouragement.

As he kissed Amora tenderly the next morning prior to entering the regenerator he accepted it might be the last kiss they would ever share. Once inside the machine the induced coma he was in made him blissfully unaware of the events of the next twenty-four hours. When he did come out of it he was ecstatic to discover that not only was his leg back but his ribs were no longer sore and he felt better than he had in years. “This is truly a miracle,” he gushed excitedly, as he was freed from the confines of the machine and rejoined his friends. “Think what the regenerator could do for amputees the world over.”

Amora’s hand went to her mouth, and Jed noticed Rex, Jonathon, and even Zarros staring open-mouthed at him. It came to him all of a sudden, Zarros had said he could age, and judging by everyone’s reaction he had. He looked to Zarros for confirmation but the Chantrosian seemed to have lost the power of speech. “Will someone please tell me what has happened,” he ordered.

“You look so young,” Amora said, finally taking the hand away from her mouth. “You don’t look any older than 240.”

Jed rushed to the large computer screen on the wall and checked out his reflection. She was right; instead of the regenerator aging him it had made him younger. The man looking back at him he hadn’t seen for the past eleven or twelve years.

“I’m seeing it but I don’t believe it,” Rex said. “You look younger than when I first met you.”

Jed turned away from the screen to get some answers from Zarros. “How could this have happened?”

“It must be because your chronological age is so young. There are fewer mutations within your cell structure than there would be if you were several hundred years old.” He looked Jed up and down as he appraised the transformation. “With your cells being so young the regenerator had a more powerful effect, thus making you younger instead of older.”

“Beats a facelift any day,” Rex said admiringly.

Amora went to Jed and flung her arms around him. “I am so glad you have your leg back, I was so unhappy for you when you lost it. I knew it would make you sad.”

“Well, I am happy now,” he whispered into her ear. “And the machine has made us the same age now.”

“I didn’t mind your age. You were not old to me.”

“I would have died a long time before you,” he pointed out. “Now we can grow old together.”

“This has been a remarkable outcome,” Zarros said. “When our scientists are re-awakened tomorrow they will be most interested in this. Maybe they will be able to draw valuable information from it to lessen the risks to our people when they undergo the regenerator.”

“So the antibiotics are ready then?”

“We will start treating the people in the sleep chambers tomorrow. But that is not something I wish to burden you with,” Zarros said charitably. “We must get you back to your people as soon as possible before Montrose can do them any more harm.” He motioned for them to follow him.

Down a lift to a well lit tunnel to an underground hangar. “We can spare you only two pods,” he said, leading the way to what Jed took to be small aircraft. “From tomorrow we shall need all the vehicles we have. It is long since time Chantros came to life, and tomorrow it shall. Not only Chantros but the sky of this world as well, for we shall be visiting the other people of this world to re-establish contact now we have your antibiotics.”

“Thank you for all you have done for us,’ Jed said sincerely.

“Thank you for what you have done for us,” Zarros replied, “for you have given us our lives back.”

Jed held out his hand, and as Zarros took it he smiled. “A strange custom,” he said, “but a pleasant one.”

Jed discovered that the pods held three people each and were voice activated. He arranged with Chief to take two of his warriors back with him while Chief returned to his village to rally his forces. The two warriors would then travel back to the edge of the Plain of the Giant lizards where Chief would meet them, and they would then guide him and his men to the caves.