Time Patrol (Area 51 The Nightstalkers) (31 page)

Three of Earhart’s Outcasts came up and slammed their spears home into the Valkyrie, finishing it off.

Taki and one of his samurai took on one of the other Valkyries. Mac, Eagle, and Doc were facing off with the other, while everyone else intercepted the Ratnik, keeping them from the other suits. A battle of sword, spear, and other edged weapons broke out.

Taki’s partner managed to jab his spear into the Valkyrie’s neck but at the cost of taking a set of claws in the chest, which killed him instantly. Taki didn’t waste the effort, also jamming his spear into the neck joint and twisting.

The Valkyrie’s head popped off and tumbled to the ground, coming to rest in a cradle of red hair.

The Valkyrie surrounded by the Nightstalkers chose a different course of action. It rose up into the air, out of range of spears, and accelerated away.

“Follow it!” Moms ordered. “Take it alive if you can.”

Mac and Eagle raced after it.

Nada was in the midst of the melee near the suits. A Russian was jabbing at him, a commando knife in each hand. Nada had his machete in one hand, the spear in the other. He dropped the spear, since the Valkyrie threat seemed over, and focused on using the machete.

As the Russian made a vicious attack, both blades flashing, Nada took a step back, bumping into the pirate who was using his cutlass against another assailant. Without saying a word, Nada and the pirate both pivoted, reversing positions and attack angles. Nada severed the new Russian’s hand, and then, as the man staggered back in shock, the Nightstalker finished him off by slamming his machete down into the man’s neck, slashing his carotid.

As that Russian bled out, Nada turned back in time to see the pirate finish off the dual-knife-wielding attacker.

Nada took a deep breath and got oriented.

The fighting was over. Over a dozen Russian men, and two Valkyrie, had been slain. Two of Earhart’s people had been killed.

“Where’s Mac and Eagle?” Nada yelled to Moms.

She pointed. “Chasing a Valkyrie.”

“Oh frak,” Nada muttered, and then he took off in that direction, grabbing a spear, still seeing the footprints from the Nightstalkers in the distance even as the black sand slowly settled back into place. He became aware someone was next to him and glanced over. Scout was keeping pace, a spear in her hand. A few steps behind them, and gaining, was Neeley, also carrying a spear, and next to her, Sin Fen.

“Stay with the rest, Scout,” Nada ordered.

“Nope.”

“Frak,” Nada muttered as Neeley and Sin Fen caught up. The four sprinted across the black sand, stride for stride.

Back at the Ratnik camp, Taki mercied the last two people who’d been reaped. They were beyond saving. He also finished off three Ratnik who’d been getting the parts from the reaped. The Russians were on horizontal tables further in the cavern, hooked up to machines.

Doc was standing next to those machines, mesmerized. “These are amazing! I believe they do the transplants and other operations automatically. We have robotic surgery but nothing like this. We have to—”

Moms interrupted him. “The HUB, Doc. Find the HUB.”

Doc shook himself and shifted his attention. “It would help if we knew what it was.”

The Ratnik camp looked very much like a rat’s nest. Debris scattered all about, pilfered from ships and craft in the Space Between, but also taken from various moments in the Nightstalkers’ timeline. Piles of cash and jewelry seemed pathetic given the surrounding environment. There was even a cluster of ancient Cambodian artifacts.

Hoarders of time, surrounded by their own craziness.

Eagle was standing in front of one of the bodies strapped on a table, and Moms joined him.

“The guard from the Met,” Eagle said, pointing at the pile of gear at the base of the table. He reached into the pile and pulled out dog tags, slipping them into a pocket.

“Snatching bodies is how the Valkyries began their myth,” Moms said. “No one knew how real the myth was and what the purpose was.”

Amelia Earhart walked up, a blood smear on one cheek.

“Are you hurt?” Moms asked.

Earhart shook her head. “It’s not mine. I lost some people.”

“Several of mine are chasing the last Valkyrie,” Moms said. “Do you know what the HUB looks like?”

“I don’t even know what a HUB is,” Earhart said. She sighed, looking down at the dead Ratnik member. “They were evil, but they were also tired. Tired of this existence, living off of other people.”

Mac and Eagle had their spears at the ready. The Valkyrie was hovering over the shoreline, about five feet up, facing them, claws extended. There were several columns in the water behind it, but for some reason, upon reaching the waterline next to the Spanish galleon, it had halted and turned.

Both men glanced over their shoulders at the sound of others approaching and were relieved to see Nada, Neeley, Sin Fen, and Scout.

“It’s just holding in place,” Eagle reported.

“They fought,” Nada said, “but not like Spetsnaz.”

“Judging from the body we autopsied back home,” Eagle said, “they’re not in very good shape.”

The Valkyrie was in place, slowly turning left and right about thirty degrees, enough to take all of them in. Then, surprisingly, it descended until it touched the sand.

“Ready,” Nada said, lowering his spear.

With a slight hiss, the white suit split open along one side. A man stepped out of the oversized suit. At least what remained of a man, the figure seeming to be mostly bones and desiccated flesh. His camouflage uniform was mended many times over and threadbare.

He took a step onto the sand, staggered, regained his balance. “I am Major Alexie Serge, originally of Alfa of the Seventh Administratorate and then on special assignment to the Vympel Group of Duga.”

“Sergeant Major Edward Moreno,” Nada said, lowering his spear. “United States Army Special Forces.”

“You must be Delta Force,” Serge said, “to have fought so well.”

Scout was staring at Nada, processing his real name. “You don’t look like an Edward.”

“Hush,” Nada said.

“Are my men dead?” Serge asked.

“Yes.”

“They did not want to take orders anymore,” Serge said. “I could not blame them. We just wanted to stay alive.” He recognized one of them. “Sin Fen. You have followed me.”

“I told you this was over.”

“You were correct. I am glad I did not allow my men to kill you as they wanted.”

“It wouldn’t have made any difference,” Sin Fen said.

“I believe it would have to you,” Serge said.

Eagle spoke up. “Did you keep Caesarion from being assassinated?”

“I have no idea of what you speak,” Serge said.

“Do you have the HUB?” Scout asked.

Serge sighed. He nodded toward the galleon. “It’s in there. We took it because the Patrol was after us. We thought we could stop them. Their machine is better than ours was, but that was back in 1986. I’m sure improvements have been made.”

“You were the Soviet Time Patrol,” Nada said, not a question. He gestured, and Mac and Eagle went over to the galleon and began climbing a long ramp set against the side.

“Yes.” Serge began coughing and he covered his mouth with his hand. When he pulled it away, it was stained with bright red blood. “It is almost over for me.”

“What happened at Chernobyl?” Nada asked.

Serge wearily shook his head. “Too long of a story.” He coughed again, with the same result. “We were trapped here, and it took us a very long time before we found your Patrol and managed to get its, what do you call it, hube?”

“HUB.”

“We called ours by a different name. It was destroyed on our last mission.”

Nada glanced to the side. Eagle and Mac were carrying something down the plank. It was an obsidian, three-foot-high, triangular column. They placed it down on the sand.

“How does it work?” Nada asked.

“I didn’t know where to go,” Serge said, ignoring the question and indicating the columns behind him. “I am exhausted. Down to my very bones. I have never known such weariness.” He cocked his head. “They’re coming. I thought you were them, but you’re not.”

“Who is coming?” Nada asked.

“The Patrol.” Serge coughed, so deeply and hard, he bent over double, and then he went to his knees.

“Eagle, Mac,” Nada ordered. “Keep an—”

He halted as the smoothness of the water was disturbed and a vessel broke the surface. It looked like a plane with stubby wings. The front part was curved, but solid, no glass for a cockpit.

Neeley went to Serge’s side, checking his condition as Nada focused on the incoming craft, Scout at his side and Eagle and Mac behind him. The craft hit the sand about ten feet from shore with a grating sound.

All remained still for a moment, and then a hatch on top was thrown open. A man appeared, hoisting himself out and onto the top of the vessel. “Sin Fen!” He was of medium height, with thick black hair sprinkled with gray. He had a stubble of beard, mostly white, that appeared more from lack of time to shave rather than a look.

“Dane,” Sin Fen called out. “You are a bit late.”

“I’m never late,” Dane said with a slight smile. He climbed down off the front of the craft and splashed down into knee-deep water. He walked up onto the sand. He glanced at the Russian. “They went too far.”

“They almost caused a lot of trouble,” Sin Fen said.

Dane nodded. “We’ve had problems in other timelines. I couldn’t spare any resources until now.”

He looked over the group. “This is it?” he asked Sin Fen.

“There are others at the Ratnik camp. Along with Amelia’s Outcasts. They should be along shortly.”

Nada stepped forward. “I’m the team sergeant for the Nightstalkers. Nada.”

“Yes. The Nightstalkers.” The man offered his hand. “Eric Dane. Formerly of Recon Team Kansas, MACV-SOG, a long time ago. Well, a long time ago for you.” He was referring to the Military Assistance Command Vietnam–Studies and Observations Group, a rather innocuous name for an elite counter-insurgency group of Special Forces during the Vietnam War.

“But now,” Dane said, “I’m the Administrator.”

“Of what?” Nada asked.

Dane nodded. “That’s a good question.”

“Where’s the Patrol?” Nada asked. “We have an emergency that”—he looked at his watch, and then remembered it wasn’t working—“that time is running out on.”

Dane held up a hand. “Relax. Time is different in here than back in your timeline. You’re talking about the Caesarion anomaly?”

“Yes,” Scout said.

Dane looked at her and his focus zeroed in, ignoring the others. “You have the sight.”

“Everyone keeps telling me that,” Scout said, “but no one has told me what it means.”

“You’re young,” Dane said, “yet you are with these people.” He indicated the members of the Nightstalkers and Neeley. “Why did they choose you?”

“Because I knew my way around a gated community?” Scout said with much less than certainty, going back to her first encounter with the Nightstalkers in North Carolina.

“You were in the right place and time,” Dane said, “and it turned out to be more than that. Things that look like chance often aren’t when you begin to see the big picture of the universe.”

“What big picture?” Neeley asked.

Dane looked at her. “You have some of it too, but there is much sadness in you.” He looked past as Moms arrived with Amelia Earhart and the rest of the Nightstalkers and Outcasts.

“Amelia,” Dane said, holding up a hand in greeting.

“Dane.” Amelia Earhart walked through everyone and gave him a hug. “It’s been a while.”

“It has.” He looked around. “So these are the Nightstalkers?”

“We lost a man,” Moms said. “Back in our timeline.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Dane said. “This is”—he paused, searching for the right words—“the moment of choices before we reboot.”

“Reboot?” Doc asked. “What do you mean?”

Dane pointed at Serge lying in the sand, Neeley pressing a wet rag on his forehead, about the only comfort she could give. “The Ratnik were a problem, certainly. Your timeline’s problem, so your timeline was allowed to solve it. Given some help,” he added with a nod to Amelia Earhart.

“Doc,” Moms said, pointing at Serge. Doc headed over to do what he could. Taki was twitching, looking like he was ready to take Serge’s head off.