Time Salvager (51 page)
James stood at the edge of the building overlooking the other six Farming Towers. He pointed down at the ground where the fighting had continued well into the night. “Stop the massacre.” He looked up at Levin. “Only you can do it.”
Levin closed his eyes and spoke in a clear voice. “This is High Auditor Levin Javier-Oberon, steward of Earth. All forces pull out immediately. Release all prisoners. We’re going home.”
The sound of fighting immediately ceased, and James could see groups of monitors stopping their advance and beginning to emerge from the towers and underground tunnels.
“Thank you, Levin. You’re doing the right thing,” James said.
“Being civil again? It suits you, James. You should try it more often.” Levin stepped off the building and floated in midair. He turned around to face James, Elise, and Grace. “Need a ride down?”
A few minutes later, the small group, now on the ground, watched as teams of monitors, many of them looking worse for the wear, most injured to one degree or another, stepped onto the waiting collies. Several of them had to be floated out on stretchers.
The so-called savages had bloodied ChronoCom’s nose and given as good as they got. James swelled with pride as he watched his former colleagues retreat. The overmatched Elfreth had accounted for themselves admirably against a vastly superior force.
Several of the monitors glared at him as they walked by. He heard mutterings of “traitor” and threats of retribution, but James didn’t care. These weren’t his people anymore. In truth, they never really were. Joining ChronoCom had always been a matter of survival, a way to escape Mnemosyne Station. Now, he was escaping ChronoCom by joining the Elfreth. He looked over at Elise. The difference this time around was that he wanted to be with the Elfreth and that there was something here he believed in. Maybe it was the same way with her.
“Quit looking at me like that,” she said, slipping a hand into his. “You’re making me nervous.”
The three of them watched until a lone collie hovered in the air, waiting for its last passenger. “There’s one more thing you should know,” Levin said. “Handler Smitt was discovered hacking into the chron database and stealing miasma pills. I assume they were for you?”
James nodded. “When will he go to trial? Is there anything you can do for him?”
Levin paused, regret hanging across his face. “The Valta operative Kuo got her hands on him. I failed him. I’m sorry. Smitt was mining information on your Nutris job. There was classified Valta Corp data on it. Look to Iapetus; Smitt died for that information. I pray what’s there is worth his sacrifice.”
The pain James felt right then was worse than anything else he had suffered that night. If it wasn’t for Elise holding him up, he might have collapsed. His hands shook as he fought to stay upright. Elise, looking worried, wrapped her arm around his waist and squeezed tightly. Before Levin could take off, James called out to him, “You sacrificed a lot tonight. I know; I won’t forget.”
“Just succeed,” Levin replied, “and it won’t matter.”
James knew that he would probably never see him again. Maybe it was finally time to bury the hatchet. He put his left hand on the auditor’s shoulder and held out his right. “Look, all these years. About Landon. I held the grudge for way too long. I forgive you.”
Levin turned and stared at the extended hand, and then at his face. “Fuck you, James.” Then Levin Javier-Oberon flew up to the waiting collie and disappeared into the night sky. The three of them stood there and watched the sky long after the last of the ships had disappeared.
“What did you mean by ‘sacrificed’?” Elise asked.
Grace exchanged a knowing look with James. “Come, there’s been enough death today. Let’s find the living.”
The three of them ventured deep into the tunnels, searching for signs of the Elfreth in hiding, checking several of the known spots to little avail. It wasn’t until an hour later, as they wandered through an abandoned subway tunnel, that they made contact. Two guards, perched in a hidden alcove above a passageway, hailed them.
Minutes later, half a dozen more guards approached, and James noted that all the weapons were leveled at him. So much for all the trust he had built up over the past few months. Not that he blamed them. These people had been living in relative peace until he and Elise came along and brought a war to their doorsteps. Who knew how many of their people were dead? He corrected himself. Now they were his people too. He owed them his complete loyalty after tonight.
The group led him down through twists and underground intersections, through hidden holes, abandoned buildings, once wading chest-deep through a submerged facility.
They were all exhausted by the time they reached the survivors holed up in a long cavernous underground train station. The entire camp was one large triage, with dozens of the injured and dying lying in neat rows. The air smelled of oil, sweat, and death. Random cries and groans, and the occasional wail, pierced the air. Still, it was very organized. On the left side of the entrance, James saw children, some as young as ten, working in teams of three or four, dragging the bodies of the dead to a crevice and rolling them in. Sadly, there was no other way to take care of the dead.
To their right, a pile of supplies was hastily stacked in the corner. One of the surviving Old Ones kept watch over it and doled out what little the Elfreth had to those who needed it. Again, it was the children who took the brunt of the heavy lifting. It didn’t take James more than a glance to know that most of them were going hungry tonight. If that small stockpile was all that they had left, all of them would probably be dead within a few months.
James walked past the makeshift hospital, looking down at the rows of the injured lying on blankets, some bleeding badly, others with broken limbs, and more than a few near death. The attack had been brutal. He had been in enough battles to recognize the extent of the injuries. More than half of the people lying here wouldn’t survive the night.
His eyes strayed to find Rima frantically trying to bandage a woman with her sides gashed open. James recognized it as a kinetic coil wound. The woman coughed, blood pouring out of her mouth and her seeping wounds. The girl grabbed another spool of precious gauze and wrapped it around her waist even tighter. Moments later, the eyes of the woman rolled up in her head, and she stopped moving.
Sobbing, Rima moved on to the next body. He realized then that these people had no idea what they were doing. Any trained medic would have recognized that the woman could not be saved. Rima had wasted precious supplies on a lost cause. Supplies these people didn’t have much of.
James looked around the room. There were five elderly tribespeople standing around, trying to keep the people organized, and approximately ten children younger than fifteen. Most of the able-bodied were dead or injured. The elderly were too few and slow to control the people while the young were clueless. There was no one in charge. Where were Qawol and Franwil?
They saw Chawr lying against the far wall, an ugly red gash running from the side of his face down to his waist. He held his right arm with his left as a little boy tended to him. His face, contorted in pain, brightened when he saw them. He waved. “Elder Elise, I told you no one could kill Chawr.” He grimaced when the boy tried to set his broken arm.
Elise ran and embraced the young man, her eyes wet. She returned a few moments later, seemingly overwhelmed by the sight of so many injured people laid out in lines along the floor. She closed her eyes and gathered herself. She took a deep breath and knelt down next to Rima to tend to one of the injured near the center of the cavern. She looked up at James to let him know that she was going to remain there. James let her be and moved further down the tunnel, stepping over the rows of bodies that filled the room.
Grace leaned into James. “This place is so disorganized. It’s the headless leading the dumb out here.” She tapped one of the children on the head and spoke in the Elfreth’s language. “Excuse me, child, where is Oldest Qawol?”
The child’s face fell and she looked away at the small crowd gathered around a body nearby. There, Qawol lay bloodied, taking in short quick breaths as he struggled to speak. His long gray hair was singed off and half of his body was badly burned. James’s first thought was that the towels and manpower being spent on Qawol could be better spent on the rest of the injured who might have a chance to survive. A small group of natives huddled around Qawol, holding vigil as they continued to place wet towels over him.
He saw Sammuia among them, clinging to Qawol’s hand. At least the boy was alive. Elise had taken a liking to him. She would be devastated if he had died. James immediately felt ashamed, as he realized that he valued the boy above any of these other injured and dead because of selfish reasons. His thoughts wandered to Smitt and how no one else grieved for him. His friend had followed him and paid the price for his loyalty. There was a lot he had to make right here. James closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He collected his thoughts and made a silent vow. The world needed a better James Griffin-Mars, and he intended to give it to them.
“What happened?” he asked in a low voice.
“The Oldest wouldn’t leave the field,” one of those keeping vigil said, her voice bitter. “Insisted on being one of the last to retreat into the buildings. An explosion nearby threw him across the commons.”
“Old fool,” James muttered. “You’re the leader of your people. Their general. You shouldn’t be putting yourself in harm’s way.”
James knew there was more to it than that, though. Qawol was not only their leader, he was their symbol. He kept the Elfreth together by standing alongside them. Being on the front was the only way he knew how to lead.
The tough old man held on until dawn, and then he passed away, with nothing more than the stilling of his shallow breathing marking his passage. Some of the natives had hoped he would wake at least once more, perhaps to name a successor or just to say good-bye. The old man had been with them longer than anyone alive could remember. And now he was gone, and the entire encampment fell into a deep sorrow.
James found Elise grieving alone in the corner, sobbing with her face in her hands. He watched her quivering body, once more unsure of what to do. He had seen this pain only once before, in Sasha when their mother had died. His little sister had been inconsolable for a week, unable to eat or sleep. James had cried the first night with her, and then he had told himself he had to be strong for them both. That was the last time he had let his guard down like that. Until this year, when he finally cracked.
He went to console as he could. She grabbed his hands and cried into his palms, soaking them with her tears. Together, they stayed in the corner, leaving the rest of the tribe to their private grief for their fallen leader. Eventually, Elise fell asleep, still leaning on him, her hands still wrapped around his.
Franwil came to see them later that night. The old woman’s eyes were red with grief, but she looked calm and strong as she spoke. “Today was a day of many sacrifices. Oldest has fallen and most of the strong are dead or too injured to lead. You were the ones who gave us hope and you were the ones who brought this down upon us. It is up to you to fix this.”
James frowned. Did she just ask him to lead them? He was ready for them to direct their anger at him, possibly expel him and Elise from the tribe, but this was a turn of events that he never anticipated. He couldn’t lead these people. Black abyss, he’d been about to suggest to Elise that they consider going off on their own.
He stood up and addressed the group. “Look, I’m sorry this has happened, and I’m honored that—”
“Not you, Chronman,” she cut in. “You still have not earned my trust. I speak to her.” Franwil pointed at Elise.
Elise gave a start. “What? You have to be kidding.”
Franwil nodded. “No one will follow the chronman, and the rest of the Old Ones are too weary. The strong ones too few. All we cling to now is that dream you fed us. We wait for the day when you can cure the land, so it is only fitting you show us the way.”
Elise looked at James, stark panic in her eyes. “James, say something. Tell her what an awful idea this is!”
It was a terrible idea. There could be no one less qualified to lead a wasteland tribe than someone from the past who had never experienced the cruelty of this world. Elise, however, had something none of them had. Goals. Optimism. Hope. Those were traits that had been long drained out of the people who lived in the present. They were the rarest commodities in this century, resources not easily gotten. Maybe it was what they needed. Franwil saw that.
“I don’t know anything about surviving out there,” Elise said.
Franwil smiled. “Many of the Elfreth have that knowledge. That will not be why you lead.”
“She will have help,” James added. “From you. From myself. All of the Elfreth.”
“A good Oldest knows when to dip into another’s well of wisdom. She will have many to drink from.” Franwil looked to him. He nodded. For the first time since he had arrived in Boston, an understanding passed between them. “It is settled. The first thing that must be done is to find a new home for the Elfreth. I have suggestions, Oldest Elise.” She smiled when she said those words.
James looked over at the Nazi soldier, Sasha, and Grace sitting over to the side. They waved. This time, he waved back. He turned to Elise. “I agree. I’ll need to locate another collie and then I can start scouting for a new home. I saw some of the monitors’ wrecks. Maybe we can salvage one or two of them. Once I have wings, I can make a few jumps back to get the supplies we sorely need.”
“No, you won’t, James,” the real Grace said, walking toward him. “I tracked your life signs over the past several jumps. Your body can’t take it anymore. I give you a sixty percent chance of surviving one more jump, and a twenty-five percent chance of surviving two. You’re on the edge of a massive stroke every time you go back, and it’s been getting progressively worse. Your time-traveling days are over.”
