Into the Past With Strangers

[csyphrett]

Re: Into the Past With Strangers

 

It just works out like that because of the timer I use. I'm hoping to restart my webpage someday and host the whole thing there.

maybe use build a book for some of the other things I have written.

 

CES

[csyphrett]

Re: Into the Past With Strangers

 

Codename: V decided he had waited long enough. He went to the hatch leading from the gasbag to the basket underneath. It was time to get out and do something to save the operation.

 

V descended to the gondola. His greatcoat cast a large shadow in front of him as he walked the halls. He was surprised that most of the carrier seemed to be empty. Why would they leave the warmth of the balloon for the cold outside?

 

He needed to question someone for information.

 

The agent found a crew on the bridge, standing in the cold wind blowing through the broken window. They didn't expect him to be onboard. That gave him surprise. He planned to use it well.

 

Codename: V grabbed the man nearest the door and flung him into the wall. He brought his arm down against the back of his neck to slam the sailor's face into the wall. He pulled the man in front of him as the rest of the crew turned toward the commotion.

 

Bullets lanced across the small compartment. Smoke danced in the air. Then silence reigned.

 

Codename: V dumped the empty clips from his Brownings as he moved across the bridge. Four dead men stared at his scarfed face as he examined everything with sharp brown eyes. He had control of the balloon.

 

He had to clear the ground crew if he wanted to fly it out of Antarctica. They had control of the anchors below.

 

Codename: V went to the window and looked down. He noted melting spots of snow in a line toward the anchors. He frowned as he considered. Maybe he had underestimated Doc Shadow and his assistants.

 

That was something he rarely did.

 

The agent looked around one more time to get the lay of the land. He needed to get off the blimp, or cut the ropes. He decided to cut the ropes. That might be a distraction for Doc Shadow.

 

Codename: V went to the door. The anchor ropes were wrapped around stanchions inside the main door of the gondola. The agent pulled out his knife as he glided to the ropes. He wouldn't be able to get down to help them, but freeing the zeppelin might buy something for Doc Shadow.

 

After all he had arranged for the man of adventure to track this down. He might as well give aid to his agent.

 

Codename: V cut the ropes and let the ends fall out of the door. The zeppelin started to rise. He smiled behind his scarf. The men below stared up at the lifting balloon. He laughed as they started running around in circles and pointing.

 

Something exploded amidst the crewmen. Orange smoke covered the men as they tried to figure out what was going on. Unseen hands used a rifle as a club on nearby targets while they were distracted.

 

Codename: V went to the bridge. He had seized the blimp. He needed to be able to park it somewhere until he had to use it later.

 

He engaged the engines, lifting the zeppelin above any enemy fire. He turned and headed for the top of the canyon wall, holding his hat low. He wanted to have an escape means before coming back to deal with Tribolyte once and for all.

 

And dealing with his traitorous countryman would be a rare pleasure in his line of work.

 

The agent found an airplane tied down to a slope as the airship lifted above the canyon walls. Obviously this was Doc Shadow's aircraft. He looked for some place to land his own vehicle. That way there would be two vehicles for their escape from the South Pole.

 

V lashed the wheel so the zeppelin would turn in circles as he went back to search the lockers. He found ample rope and weights. He just needed to anchor them to the balloon and drop them to the ground. He could use that to get back down and join the others.

 

He secured the ropes to the door, tied the weights to the end of the ropes, and threw them overboard. The cubes sank in the snow as the lines pulled tight. The balloon circled around the base of an imaginary cone. He hurried back to the bridge and cut power. The zeppelin hung in place once the propellers stopped turning.

 

Codename: V returned to the door. He grabbed the ropes in his gloved hands and started down in a half-slide, half-fall to the ground. He noted that he had anchored the zeppelin across the gorge from the plane. He touched down, and took a breath before undertaking phase two.

 

The agent didn't have any standard climbing equipment. He had noted that the walls seemed to be made of ice and snow piled up into mountains. He didn't know what caused that. He also knew that he was looking at something strange for the landscape. Reports from the region had stated that rock had been near the surface of heights discovered on either side of this depression.

 

Codename: V pulled four sets of claws and straps from his coat. He joined the equipment together and put them on his boots and gloved hands. He took a moment to calm himself before slipping over the side. He started down the wall, digging handholds and footholds with his claws.

 

The agent touched ground as Haven Walkur clubbed the last man standing with a pistol. The Comic had a pile of bodies around him. Dark eyes didn't see Doc Shadow, or the boy.

 

"That didn't go as planned but at least they can't get away with the balloon now." The Comic headed for the cave carved into the canyon walls.

 

"That butler can make his own." Dr. Walkur matched his stride by taking two steps for every one of his. "We'll have to stop him if we want to prevent an escape."

 

Codename: V waited for them to vanish into the cave before following silently. He drew his own guns before stepping from gray sky to darkness. He wanted to be ready in case they had problems with the crew that might be inside the secret lair.

 

His thoughts wandered to what Tribolyte expected to find at the end of his treasure hunt. He couldn't think of anything but some source of power. That didn't bode well for the rest of the world.

 

The agent hung back as he followed the other intruders. Torches had been set up to light the way for the expedition and its pursuers. He held himself out of their welcoming circles to be an invisible shadow drifting along in the dark.

 

Gunfire cut across his thoughts. Screams beckoned him, but he forced himself to move even stealthier. He didn't want to run into something in the dark a bullet wouldn't stop.

 

Caution dictated that.

[Yansuf]

Re: Into the Past With Strangers

 

FYI, blimp and zeppelin are not the same thing.

The aircraft as originally described is a dirigible or zeppelin; it has a rigid frame with interior gas bags. A blimp does not have a rigid frame with the gas bags inside, the outer wall of the gas bag is the outer wall of the craft.

Minor quibble, I love the story!

[csyphrett]

Re: Into the Past With Strangers

 

FYI, blimp and zeppelin are not the same thing.

The aircraft as originally described is a dirigible or zeppelin; it has a rigid frame with interior gas bags. A blimp does not have a rigid frame with the gas bags inside, the outer wall of the gas bag is the outer wall of the craft.

Minor quibble, I love the story!

 

Thanks for the interest and the information, Yansuf.

CES

[BoloOfEarth]

Re: Into the Past With Strangers

 

FYI, blimp and zeppelin are not the same thing.

The aircraft as originally described is a dirigible or zeppelin; it has a rigid frame with interior gas bags. A blimp does not have a rigid frame with the gas bags inside, the outer wall of the gas bag is the outer wall of the craft.

Minor quibble, I love the story!

 

Technically, a blimp can be (and often is) made of several gas bags within a coated fabric outer shell, so the outer wall of the craft may well be different from the outer wall of the gas bag(s). The Goodyear Blimp, for example, has two gas-bag ballonets (one forward, one aft) within a rubber-coated polyester fabric shell.

 

But you're right, blimps and zeppelins are two related, but different, things. And also right that, for the story, it's a minor quibble. Codename: V most likely wouldn't know the difference, and since that part is pretty much told from his perspective, it works fine.

 

Fantastic story, and I'm eagerly awaiting the next installment.

[csyphrett]

Re: Into the Past With Strangers

 

29

 

 

Doc Shadow moved like his namesake, pistol aimed ahead of him. He expected guards to try and stop him. He didn't plan to be stopped. Tim rode under one arm like a piece of luggage, holding his sunglasses in place on his face as he floated above the floor.

 

"Get ready to call Ghost Angel." Doc deposited Tim behind some boulders to provide him some cover. "Wait until I distract them. That way they'll be unprepared for his entrance."

 

"Got it." Tim hunkered down behind the rock screen. "Remember not to look him in the eye. He tends not to think about things like that when he gets going."

 

"Don't worry about me." Doc started down the tunnel. "I remember what happened up north."

 

Doc faded into the darkness, moving toward the crowd ahead of him. He noted how the cavern had resembled carved walls instead of a natural cave. He put that down as something to investigate when he wasn't battling for the fate of the world. He had a feeling that the unnaturalness of the place is why Tribolyte had been drawn so far south of civilization.

 

Doc paused when he heard voices ahead. He leaned against the wall, blending in with its bulk. He leveled the pistol. Movement told him guards had been stationed. They just couldn't see him as well as he could see them.

 

He fired his clip of sleep bullets into the room beyond. He didn't know how many he could hit, but surprise should allow him to thin the herd. Thumping against the ground told him he was at least partially successful.

 

Doc changed to explosive bullets as he ran up to the entrance of the main chamber. It was better to bury the treasure rather than let Tribolyte get it. Who knows how he would use any knowledge he gained from this encounter?

 

Doc would rather destroy whatever the threat was rather than allow it to be used on a helpless population.

 

And Doc had no illusions about whether or not the enemy would use the discovery. It was only a matter of time.

 

Doc edged closer. Some of the men had been quick enough to don gas masks. He estimated at least half had been floored by his invention. The awake soldiers leveled weapons his way. He took cover behind a vertical rectangle of rock as bullets burned his way.

 

Doc took a moment to scan for the triad that led this troop. They had vanished from the room. He ducked before he could figure out what had happened to them. The enemy fired in waves to keep him down.

 

He didn't want to kill them, but he had to get through to stop the Englishman and his butler.

 

"Cover your eyes if you want to live." The cold voice and cloud of fetid breath made Doc flinch down out of habit. Then Tim's attack dog had drifted by with burning sword drawn. One hand was already at the sunglasses on his fake face.

 

Men screamed as he passed. Some of them lived because they remembered the instructions they had been given about a man in black who killed with his eyes. They averted their eyes almost in the nick of time. They suffered but their heads didn't explode like the colleagues who panicked and fired at the spirit of vengeance with both eyes opened.

 

Ghost Angel floated to a door behind the main chamber. He didn't need to finish the survivors off. They would do that themselves given enough time. His goal was inside the smaller inner chamber.

 

He wanted to unleash his gaze on Tribolyte and his servant.

 

Doc Shadow left his cover and put the writhing survivors asleep with kicks to the head. Hopefully their masks would cushion the blows he was delivering. If things went well, he would haul them out and give them a chance to go home.

 

That was the best he could do at the moment.

 

Ghost Angel stabbed the blockage. His blade sank into the stone. Hands reached out of the stone floor, grabbing the block. They pulled the door straight down. It split on the top of the glowing sword as it went.

 

Ghost Angel stepped through the inner door. It was time for his own brand of vengeance.

 

"Stop him, Mister Cook." Tribolyte blanched at the nature of the intrusion. "I need time to figure out how to operate this device."

 

Doc Shadow moved to stand behind the wall next to Ghost Angel. He didn't like the sound of the roar that issued on the other side of the threshold. Cook had drawn up another dragon to deal with the dead man.

 

Doc plunged his forearm through Ghost Angel's back. He tried to ignore the cold turning his skin blue where he could see it. He concentrated on pulling the trigger of his pistol. Small explosions rocked the small chamber but he couldn't tell if he hit anything, or not. He hoped he had put the thing that belonged to the roar down before it got started.

 

Ghost Angel walked into the room, sword held high. A small smile flitted across his bitter face. Electrical sizzling flung small lightning around as he advanced.

 

Doc peeked over his shoulder, reloading his pistol with more gas bullets as he assessed the situation. Things were going great for his side for a change. He suspected he was being too optimistic.

 

The small inner chamber was round. A small altar stood in the middle. On top of the altar, a round ball sat in prongs like a pearl in a ring setting. Tribolyte stood next to the altar, hand raised. Glowing motes chased themselves around his hand. Mister Cook stood in front of Tribolyte, hand pouring blood from his palm. A small dinosaur stood next to him. Holes let Doc see through the dinosaur to the other side of the room.

 

He didn't see the Baron anywhere.

 

Doc decided he had to put Mr. Cook down to give Ghost Angel a chance at Tribolyte. The man's drawings could keep them stymied for as long as the Englishman needed to finish whatever he planned to do.

 

He took aim as the dinosaur pulled itself together. A flurry of bullets pushed him back. The Baron had taken cover behind a set of stone bricks forming shelving. He had cut loose when he had a clear shot at the man of adventure.

 

Doc took a moment to compose himself. He had lucked out the soldier hadn't a clear shot at him from his vantage point. His gas bullets meant he didn't have to hit the ambusher with a shot. He just needed to put one close to the enemy commander.

[csyphrett]

Re: Into the Past With Strangers

 

30

 

 

 

 

George Tribolyte didn't like the new developments that threatened his plan. He had counted on Doc Shadow to be trapped in the jungle. Yet here he was. Worse, he had brought the troublesome ghost with him.

 

Tribolyte drew his ire into a beam of light, casting it across the room. The ghost sliced across the lance with his sword. It drifted into the glowing blade, vanishing in an instant.

 

Mr. Cook finished his dinosaur as the thing in black kept advancing. He sent it after the swordsman. The drawings had proven effective against the spirit of vengeance the last time they had battled.

 

The Baron reloaded his weapon. He knew bullets wouldn't stop their most dangerous enemy. He had to be content with holding Doc Shadow in place. When Tribolyte and his servant had dealt with their immediate problem, they could concentrate their fury on the man of adventure.

 

Tribolyte turned to point his hand at the wall beyond the ghost. He hoped the drawing would distract the thing while he dealt with the bothersome doctor. He loosed a volley of fire on the wall. Stone covered metal ripped apart. Doc Shadow flew across the room beyond.

 

That should take care of that even if he hadn't been able to strike with his full power thanks to the wall he had punched a hole through with his mental power. Now he could concentrate on their more dangerous enemy.

 

Tribolyte waited as the swordsman spread his wings and sliced through the legs of the raptor. The magical creation fell over, unwinding where the blade had sliced the creative energy in two. He turned to run the butler through with a backhand stroke.

 

Tribolyte loosed another bolt of energy. It punched a hole through the ghost before he could block it with his sword. The wings burned away first as the spirit vanished.

 

That should take care of that.

 

"Mr. Cook." Tribolyte waved one cooling hand. "Please block the entrance until we're done."

 

"Yes, sir." The butler moved to the hole in the wall. He raised his hand. Bricks mortared themselves together in front of the opening. He didn't think it would last long against a determined assault, but it would buy a few seconds.

 

Tribolyte turned to face the orb. This was the treasure he sought. He just didn't know what it could do. He needed to pack it away first. Then he could take it home and examine it at his leisure.

 

The Baron wouldn't like it but he would have to live with it.

 

Tribolyte concentrated on the orb. He felt something working inside. Age and mental brittleness wrapped around the willingness to do things he touched with his mind. It waited for someone to use it.

 

He examined the mounting to see how things fitted together. He didn't want to have to take the prongs if he didn't have to do that.

 

Tribolyte found the clamps holding the orb in place. He undid them one by one. The ball came loose without a sound.

 

"Give me your pack, Baron." Tribolyte held out one hand while cradling the sphere against his body with the other.

 

The Baron handed over the empty backpack. He still held his pistol in one hand. He expected more trouble.

 

If Doc Shadow was here, his companions would be too.

 

Tribolyte put the prize in the pack. He pulled it on over his coat. The weight didn't feel as light as it should.

 

That was something else to worry about later when he was far away from the frozen desert.

 

"All right, Mr. Cook." Tribolyte turned to face the blocked exit. "We will probably encounter resistance. You should be ready to discourage that. It's time for us to return home."

 

"I don't see any problem." Mr. Cook flexed his hands in preparation of working his unique brand of magic.

 

"Get ready, Baron." Tribolyte gestured for the commander to join them. "You'll be watching our backs."

 

"I hope what you have is worth all the trouble we have gone through." The Baron held his pistol so it pointed where he looked.

 

"I think so." Tribolyte adjusted the straps on the pack. "I can feel things that belong away from Earth."

 

"What use is that?" The Baron indicated for the two others to lead the way.

 

"It gives us a hint of technology that will win the coming war for your country." Tribolyte nodded to his servant.

 

Mr. Cook rubbed his hand on the wall of lines. It vanished into his palm as he moved his arm like a giant eraser. The room beyond came into view.

 

"Be careful, Mr. Cook." Tribolyte stared at the room. The scattered bodies didn't bother him. What bothered him was that he couldn't see Doc Shadow. That bothered his senses, alerting him to danger.

 

Mr. Cook raised his hand. Hounds dropped to the floor. They turned wide noses this way and that. They barked at something out beyond where the chamber led to the tunnels and the airship.

 

"Trouble." Mr. Cook let the dogs course out in front. They would track whatever drew their interest and deal with it.

 

Tribolyte expanded his vision. He needed to see whatever he planned to shoot.

 

Glowing sparks marked a man in a suit standing in the corridor. A bubble of glass covered the man's head. He held a weird pistol in his hand. The hounds went right for him.

 

Tribolyte frowned because he didn't see Doc Shadow. Where was the man of adventure?

 

The pistol fired a wavy ribbon of fire at the dogs. The user became briefly visible as the beam turned one of the dogs into a cloud of blood ash.

 

Tribolyte raised his hand. He needed to remove this pest so they could pass into the passage. Their airship waited for their arrival. An invisible man couldn't stand in their way if they wanted to reach his estate in England.

 

An explosion of smoke covered his target in a screen. It reached out toward the three men. Mr. Cook caused a fan to burst from his hand. He caused the blades to spin to blow the yellow cloud away.

 

Bullets reached from the tunnel. That scattered Tribolyte's group. The Englishman stepped behind a column. He had been right.

 

Doc Shadow's friends were present like he surmised.

 

It was better to deal with them now than have them chase the tomb raiders all the way home.

 

The Baron returned fire. Tribolyte didn't think he knew where his enemies were. He just seemed to want to suppress them so his companions could do something.

 

Tribolyte planned to push through over their dead bodies.

[csyphrett]

Re: Into the Past With Strangers

 

31

 

 

"It looks like they have what they want." Dr. Walkur reloaded her pistols as she hid behind the cover provided by a dent in the wall. "How do we stop them?"

 

"Give me a second to think." The Comic checked the contents of his belt. "We have them pinned down, but without Ghost Angel, we are seriously outgunned."

 

"I say we seal them in." Pattern Ghost's voice drifted from the edge of the tunnel. "That will buy us time to think of something else."

 

"We run?" Tim held Doc Shadow's pistol in both hands as he hovered over the fallen man of adventure.

 

"We retreat for a better shot." The Comic dug into his belt. He pulled out several rainbow painted balls. "Here, Haven. Pull the pin and throw these. That will keep them from rushing the door. I'll take Doc."

 

"I'll close the room off with my electric pistol." Pattern Ghost turned the dial on the side of the device. "It'll take most of my power."

 

"Get ready to cover us, Tim." The Comic rolled the balls over to Dr. Walkur. She snatched them up and put them in her coat pocket. "We'll only have a second to make this work before they come down after us."

 

"I'm ready." Tim struggled to point the heavy pistol into the main chamber.

 

"Then let's go." The Comic rushed across the hall, and grabbed Doc Shadow in a fireman's carry. He started up the tunnel as he fast as he could run.

 

Haven pulled the balls out of her coat. She pulled the pins and chucked them into the main chamber. Tim stood to one side, firing the heavy automatic without trying to aim. As soon as they were both out ammo, they started after the Comic.

 

Pattern Ghost started backing away. He leveled his pistol at the roof of the tunnel and started waving the brushstroke of the beam back and forth. Explosions rocked the chamber. Then the ceiling started collapsing. He checked his dial as he ran from the falling rocks. He only had a few minutes left of charge.

 

He didn't think the collapse would stop their enemies any significant amount of time. He had already seen a supernatural display of power from both of the principals involved. The best they could hope for was to slow them down and try to get the orb away from them before they got away.

 

If the butler could make one set of balloons to carry them out of the jungle, there was nothing that said he couldn't do the exact same thing to carry the three survivors back to the waiting boat.

 

Pattern Ghost would do that instead of wondering where the airship had gone.

 

He looked at the retreating backs of his friends. He wondered what they were going to do next to stop those guys. He didn't think they had the power without Ghost Angel and he hadn't been able to slow them down.

 

"We set up our ambush over there." The Comic pointed. "Tim, I want you to stay with Doc until he wakes up. We'll put you on the other side of the gorge away from us. Pattern Ghost, take cover so you can shoot into the cave without being hit by return fire."

 

"Who made you the boss?" Tim glared up at the taller Comic.

 

"My fist." The Comic shook that at the boy. "Get moving."

 

Tim muttered his mantra as he tried to drag the much bigger Doc Shadow behind cover. Pattern Ghost helped him out as the Comic and Dr. Walkur took cover. He made sure that Tim was unseen from the cavern entrance before seeking his own hiding spot.

 

He had an idea that his invisible nature would make him the first target once the Englishman became aware of the minimal threat he posed. A couple more shots from his pistol would drain the battery. He might not have enough to collapse the cave.

 

He looked over at where the Comic and Dr. Walkur waited. They didn't seem ready to run. He couldn't either.

 

The Comic gave him a thumb's up except he was a little off target since he didn't know exactly where Pattern Ghost had hunkered down to wait.

 

Pattern Ghost pulled his pistol, waiting to gear it up. He didn't want the whine to give them away while they waited. Surprise was all they had if they wanted to win.

 

The hissing of air reached Pattern Ghost's ears. It looked the butler had devised something to move them along faster and carry them out of the depression before the vigilantes could even get a shot. He tensed, aiming the electric pistol.

 

They couldn't get away.

 

Pattern Ghost spotted something coming out of the tunnel. He fired, listening to the whine of the generator and hum-crack of the pistol. The wavy beam reached out with its deadly grip. He groaned when he realized he had missed all of his targets.

 

Dr. Walkur and Comic tried to stop the express plane headed into the atmosphere on bird wings but bullets and clown toys didn't do anything but punch holes in the cartoon creature. They stood up as the giant bird headed straight up.

 

"That's rotten." The Comic shaded his eyes as he watched the bird flap for the clouds. "Looks like we're chasing them again."

 

"I think we might have a problem." Dr. Walkur also looked up after the escaping masterminds. "What's that glow?"

 

"Whatever it is, it's headed straight for us." The Comic looked around. "Let's get out of here."

 

Pattern Ghost became visible as his suit ran out of power. He struggled through the snow after his faster companions. Maybe he hadn't missed after all.

 

The Comic grabbed Doc Shadow and slung him on a shoulder as he ran. He didn't look up. He looked ahead and concentrated on making the most speed that he could.

 

Falling balls of fire could only mean trouble.

 

"Run, Tim." Dr. Walkur had an arm wrapped around the smaller boy, half-dragging him behind her.

 

Pattern Ghost took a moment to watch the falling object. It headed right for the cavern. He had no doubt it was the orb that had been the prize. He had struck that instead of the giant bird. He wondered how big the explosion would be when it hit.

 

He decided he didn't want to know.

 

"Over here." A figure in a black coat and hat waved them toward a gully. "There's no more time."

 

The band dove into the ditch, covering their heads with their hands. A freight train went by in a cloud of snow and blazing light. Rain fell on the heroes as they dug themselves out of the piles of snow on top of them.

 

"We're alive." The Comic jumped up, cheering at the top of his voice. "We're alive!"

 

"Not for long." The man in the black coat brushed snow off his shoulders.

[csyphrett]

Re: Into the Past With Strangers

 

Mad George Tribolyte gritted his teeth against the pain running up and down his back. Smoke and burning flesh still tickled his nose. The Baron held his arm to steady him. That prevented his falling off Mr. Cook's bird to his death.

 

He didn't know what had happened. The orb had caught fire as they made their escape. The flaming aura had started through his coat to his shirt and then flesh. He threw the burning backpack away as soon as he got his arms out of the straps.

 

The explosion after it hit the ground told him that throwing it away had saved his life.

 

It also meant he had failed in the eleventh hour. He could not foresee the alliance he had built on the basis of this deal still carrying on. Too many men and resources had been lost.

 

At least he could be satisfied that Doc Shadow had been eliminated as a threat by the destruction below.

 

He would have to settle for that instead of plundering the secrets of a lost civilization and ruling the world through proxies.

 

It was a poor second prize.

 

"Please land, Mr. Cook." Tribolyte found it hard to talk. "I would like you to look at my back."

 

"Hold on." Mr. Cook pointed the bird to a clear spot away from the collapsed area behind them. He merely looked that way without emotion. He helped the Baron and Tribolyte down after sliding off the feathered back himself.

 

Tribolyte stood. The cold air on his back stung but it seemed to be helping to keep the swelling down some. He endured a quiet conversation between the Baron and his butler.

 

"You'll live." Mr. Cook seemed grim. "I'll put something on that back, but you're lucky to be able to move."

 

"Thank you." George nodded. "We'll have to turn the Baron over to his ship before we try to get to England."

 

"We will make the coast in a few hours." Mr. Cook looked at his watch. "Your wrapping will keep until we get there."

 

"Do your best." Tribolyte smiled as the air blowing on his back cooled his skin that much faster.

 

"Will you be able to make it that far?" The Baron grabbed one arm. He waited for Mr. Cook to grab the other arm to help out.

 

"I'll have to if we want to make it back to the ship." Tribolyte swung a leg over the bird's back He felt almost dead.

 

Mr. Cook extruded a long bandage that wrapped around Tribolyte's body. He waited for the drawing to settle before he climbed back up into position. The Baron was right there. One of his hands held Tribolyte steady.

 

The bird took flight, bearing toward the bay where they had landed. The Baron looked around. The airship had been destroyed in the blast from the exploding orb. That would have to go on his report.

 

He wondered what his superiors would say about this debacle. He doubted well done would be on their lips.

 

The ship hove into view after the landscape had rendered their eyes glassy at the monotony. The Baron suppressed the pleasure in seeing it. He didn't want to admit that he had expected to see it gone.

 

Then he saw that most of it was gone.

 

He should have seen that coming.

 

Men stood around fires with fuel from the destroyed ship. Life boats were beached on the ice. Tents from bed sheets were hung up.

 

"So much for sailing off into the sunset." Tribolyte's words echoed the Baron's thoughts. "We'll have to think of something before we freeze to death."

 

"We can build a boat from the wreckage." Mr. Cook didn't sound hopeful. "I think I can drag it to South America."

 

"How much time will that take?" The Baron checked his own watch. That at least was in one piece.

 

"Don't worry." Tribolyte smiled through his pain. "I'll get the remainder of your men back to civilization. It's the least I can do."

 

"How do you plan to do that?" The Baron didn't keep the skepticism out of his voice.

 

"We'll hold a seance." Tribolyte smiled. "Take us down, Mr. Cook. We'll need to get the crew together."

 

"Are you sure about this, sir?" Mr. Cook circled high overhead before directing the bird to descend on his boss's nod.

 

The men went for firearms, but relaxed when they saw the Baron. He slowly dropped to the ground. He knew that nervous men tended to shoot first, then ask questions.

 

"Who's the ranking officer?" The Baron spoke to the nearest man. He might as well get the crew working for him.

 

"The bosun survived, sir." The sailor pointed across the camp. "He's organizing the salvaged supplies."

 

"Please gather the men at the point nearest the wreck." Tribolyte staggered forward. "Spread the word. Tell them to bring everything they can carry and might need for a voyage."

 

The sailor looked at the Baron. The officer nodded. The man hurried away, spreading the message to everyone he passed. The survivors started gathering what they could from the white beach. They began arriving to the spot indicated as Tribolyte sat down to look at the broken hull. He looked out over the sea and thought.

 

"They are gathering." The Baron looked at the crowd. "What are you planning to do?"

 

"I plan to take them to somewhere they can get home from with minimal effort." Tribolyte kept his gaze focused on the sea. He found it helpful to clearing his mind. "When everyone is accounted for, let me know and we'll begin."

 

The Baron spotted the bosun. He walked over. If anyone knew how many men had lived, it would be him.

 

The brief discussion and head count that followed assured the Baron everyone was there. Piles of supplies were arranged around the men as they gathered in a clump. They watched the Englishmen with a mix of hate, fear, and suspicion.

 

"Everyone is here." The Baron looked at the crowd.

 

"Then let's begin." Tribolyte turned to face the crowd. He would need their cooperation for what he planned to do.

[csyphrett]

Re: Into the Past With Strangers

 

33

 

Dr. Haven Walkur made sure the others were okay after the shock they had received. For the most part, they seemed only badly bruised from the shockwave blasting through the canyon. They were alive but buried in a bubble under snow.

 

She couldn't imagine how that had happened but they had been lucky.

 

"I imagine they think we're dead." The man in the scarf looked around, probing the darkness with a light. "We have to get out of here."

 

"I'm open to suggestions." Dr. Walkur played her own light around, examining the wall of ice. "We need to at least get a hole so we can have breathable oxygen."

 

"I'm out." Pattern Ghost wasn't invisible. On the other hand, in the dark, he was still unseen.

 

"So am I." The Comic had used everything in his utility belt. He needed to devise a backup to carry with him. Maybe he could use something like Doc Shadow's vest.

 

He had to survive first.

 

"Doc still has whatever is in his vest." Tim called from where Doc had been half buried. "Only I don't think it's labeled."

 

The man in the scarf crossed the small space. His light dipped with him as he opened the various padded pouches on the vest. He pulled out several magazines and examined the bullets under the beam.

 

"This might be what we need." His voice sounded on the verge of laughter to Haven. She hoped he wasn't losing his mind from the close confines. She had seen that happen several times. She had used what was at hand to calm the afflicted people down.

 

Nothing calmed a hysterical person faster than a head clout.

 

"Do you actually know what you're doing?" Haven shone her light on the shadow man. Only the intense paleness of his eyes reflected back.

 

"I have been trained to survive." The shadow man went to a wall. He dug into the wall with bullets from the magazine. "I admit this is a new situation for me, but I plan to be home as soon as I can."

 

"Sounds good to me." The Comic started working on a trench. "Give me some light, Doc. We'll need cover if he's doing what I think he's doing."

 

Pattern Ghost went over to where Tim struggled to uncover the rest of Doc Shadow. They freed him from the ice and dragged him out of the way. The two of them refrained from remarking on his blue color.

 

That couldn't be good.

 

"We'll need to blow a hole slowly to cut our way out of the snow." The shadow man stepped back as the others piled ice up between their position and the wall. "We'll need to check if we have transportation. It's a long walk back to the coast."

 

"Let's get out of here first." The Comic checked to make sure everyone was under cover. "Then we can think about getting food and finding a boat."

 

The shadow man fired one shot where he had dug the first bullet. The impact set the string off in rapid succession. The wall of ice caught fire. Water turned to steam in an instant. The side of the bubble fell down on that side.

 

The adventurers waited out the rumble of shifting death. The cold froze the ice back in place as the fires burned into the ground. The burning shells cleared an area around them, boiling the water away.

 

"Let's get Doc next to the fire." Haven grabbed an arm. "We need to get him warm if we want to keep him alive."

 

Comic and Pattern Ghost took the man of adventure's weight and carried him across the small space. They plunked him down next to the burning blaze. The blue flame danced like water.

 

"I'm going to set off another blast." The shadow man moved to the other side of the fire. "Maybe that will be enough to punch a bigger hole out."

 

"I hope so." The Comic put his hands over the fires. Steam ran off his gloves. "It's getting hard to breathe in here."

 

"We might not be able to dig out." Haven wondered if Doc would wake up. She didn't expect him to be knocked for a loop like this.

 

"We'll get out." The Comic stood. "You can bet on that."

 

Haven sat in the dimming light of the blaze. Her expression blurred to a small amount of disbelief. She had been in the field, gotten out of bad scrapes, but she couldn't remember one worse than the current one.

 

Where did these mystery men get their boundless optimism?

 

The swirl of his great coat said the shadow man was ready to fire again. He stepped back. The others hunkered down in case of blowback, but otherwise remained in place. Two blazes would burn up the air that much faster but the falling snow might uncover an exit for them.

 

The second burst left a line of flame building a tunnel as it burned through the white wall. It sank to the ground as an arch formed out of the melting ice. The door collapsed as the walls on either side fell into the clear zone. Something like a whistle keened at the trapped heroes.

 

"We have an opening." Haven stood up. "Fresh air."

 

The scarved stranger expanded the hole he had made by cutting off part of his scarf and dipping it in the blue fire left from his effort. He pressed the blaze against the ice with a simple throw before the flame reached his hand. That burned away enough of a hole to allow him to jump up and grab the sides. He pulled himself out of the tomb in an instant.

 

Haven nodded as Doc started talking to himself. He might be coming around after all. That was good news.

 

"It looks like I was right again." The Comic's smiling mask matched his tone.

 

"It's not seemly to gloat." Haven watched Doc Shadow. If he came to, that would make things easier for them.

 

"Let's get out of here." Tim rushed to the opening. "I don't want this thing falling down on me."

 

"Not so fast, kid." The Comic gestured for Pattern Ghost to grab one side of Doc Shadow so they could carry him. "Let the new guy take a look around before we go out there."

 

"He's right, Tim." Haven went to the opening. She drew one pistol and put it in a coat pocket. She jumped up and pulled herself out. The outside looked abandoned and desolate.

 

"They got away." The shadow man's cold voice drifted from nowhere. "Let's see if we can find some means to get to civilization."

[BoloOfEarth]

Re: Into the Past With Strangers

 

Great stuff, keep it coming!

[DusterBoy]

Re: Into the Past With Strangers

 

We await the next thrilling installment with bated breath. Will our daring heroes make it back to civilization and defeat the bad guys? Stay tuned to find out, true believers!

 

Excelsior!

[csyphrett]

Re: Into the Past With Strangers

 

I'm working on the soldiers getting off the continent right now.

CES

[csyphrett]

Re: Into the Past With Strangers

 

34

Mad George Tribolyte looked at the wreckage of the supply boat. He should have expected something like this from the great Doctor Algernon Shadow.

 

It was a good thing the man of adventure was safely dead and out of the way.

 

Tribolyte turned from his contemplation of the wreck. The anxious crew looked at him like a devil among them. They were right about that.

 

"Gentlemen." Tribolyte's voice carried across the icy beach. The water seemed to blend in with a natural harmony. "I want you to think about your boat. I want you to hold that in your mind. I want you to concentrate on how your boat used to look before it sank."

 

The men sent out static images. He saw them on the ether. They weren't good enough to use. He needed for them to focus so he could use their concentration.

 

"I need you to really concentrate." Tribolyte didn't raise his voice. He didn't want to shake their confidence any further. "I want you to think about your ship as if you were still on board."

 

The mental images he reviewed seemed more consistent. They didn't match up altogether, but he didn't need them to do that. He just needed them to be close enough to use.

 

Tribolyte plucked each image from the minds of the sailors. He fitted the different pictures into a coherent collage of a ship that slightly resembled the one that had picked him up in South America. He then added his own energy to the picture.

 

A mist floated over the ocean. It settled on the water and called in a bell voice that shook the mind. It called three times. Each call made the sailors doubt what he was doing just a little more. If they gave up, the spell would fail.

 

"Keep thinking about your ship." Tribolyte didn't raise his voice. He didn't want to scare them more.

 

Scraps of disturbed air and mist wrapped around the upended icebreaker. Things made the water splash up in small geysers. The little pieces seized the ruptured hull and began adding to its bulk like a reef collecting more to add to itself.

 

Tribolyte smiled. This was exactly how things should go. All he needed was a little more concentration from the crew.

 

The ship started lifting out of the water as the ocean flowed from the giant bite in the hull. The steel skin glimmered as things came into existence and affixed themselves to the metal. The ship didn't look like it had, but as long as it sailed, that was all that mattered.

 

Naturally Tribolyte didn't tell the crew the price for their transportation. After all, he wasn't going to pay it. That would be on the luckless sailors.

 

He doubted they would under the explanation anyway. So why get into it?

 

The ship made little touches to itself as the mist slowly burned away. It hurt the eyes, but there was no doubt it was ready to sail. All they had to do was board it and get under way.

 

"I want you to think about a bridge to the ship." Tribolyte smiled. "Steps will be needed from the looks of things. Concentrate on that."

 

The ground extended from the shore in a set of pilings, then square slabs, until it reached the side of the strange looking ship. Steps started up from the end of the new dock toward the side railing on the boat.

 

"Gather up your belongings and supplies." Tribolyte waved at the men. "We're going aboard."

 

Soon enough, they would know the price they had been duped into paying for transportation.

 

Tribolyte urged the men forward with a wave of his hands. They gathered their supplies and headed along the sea blue dock. Silence reigned as they moved.

 

Some subliminal understanding might already be dawning, but he doubted any of them knew what had been taken away from them.

 

And he wasn't going to tell them.

 

Tribolyte, Mr. Cook, and the Baron walked at the end of the scruffy crowd. The crew needed to get the ship ready to sail. Mr. Cook had no part in the planning process. Tribolyte and the Baron contemplated their failure in silence.

 

They had traveled around the world, seized the prize, and been beaten in the space of a week. What else could go wrong?

 

Tribolyte turned his thoughts from defeat. Killing Doc Shadow more than made up for losing his quest. That at least had worked out well enough.

 

"What now?" The Baron had not cast aside the recent defeat. "I'm going back empty handed."

 

"At least you have a country to go back to." Tribolyte looked ahead at his future. "I'm afraid England has already seized my mansion and put me on a list. Too bad. I had such plans."

 

They started up the stairs to the boat's top deck.

[DusterBoy]

Re: Into the Past With Strangers

 

And no doubt what will happen to those poor, luckless sailors will be described in detail . I get the distinct impression that Mad George Tribolyte sees people as tools to be exploited and expended as necessary.

[Yansuf]

Re: Into the Past With Strangers

 

And no doubt what will happen to those poor' date=' luckless sailors will be described in detail . I get the distinct impression that Mad George Tribolyte sees people as tools to be exploited and expended as necessary. [/quote']

 

You're just getting that now?

[csyphrett]

Re: Into the Past With Strangers

 

35

 

The Comic looked around the wasteland. He shook his masked head. He only had one question.

 

"How do we get back home?"

 

"We need to get Doc back on his feet." Tim straightened his black hat. "We can't carry him all the way back to the ocean."

 

"Stay here." The new member of their party headed back to where the temple had blown to smithereens. "I'll see if your plane, or the zeppelin, survived the impact."

 

"We need a name," Dr. Walkur called after him.

 

"My name is Smith." The man in black donned claws for shoes and gloved hands. He used them to negotiate the rubble that had filled the canyon after the strike.

 

"My name is Foxie Loxie." The Comic's mocking tone didn't carry. "Let's see what we can do about Doc."

 

The four gathered around the man of adventure. Haven checked his eyes, noting the way the pupils moved. His skin still had a blue tinge. Haven took some of the cleanest snow and let it melt in her hand. The water slid off his face in small beads.

 

That seemed unusual to the archaeologist. She bent to get a closer look. A hand stopped her.

 

"I'm awake." Doc sat up, taking his hand off her shoulder. He brushed his face with the back of his gloved hand. "What happened?"

 

"Pattern Ghost blew up the mountain." The Comic decided the bad news had to take priority. "We also picked up a tagalong."

 

"All right." Doc got to his feet. He looked around. "This could be a problem."

 

"This is a disaster." Tim and The Comic looked at each other.

 

"Jinx." The Comic pointed at the boy.

 

"Where is our tagalong?" Doc raised one hand to shade his eyes.

 

"He went looking for the plane." Haven pointed the direction out. "He said his name was Smith."

 

"They all do." Doc frowned. "I doubt the plane survived intact. We might be able to scrounge something if we're lucky."

 

"They all say their name is Smith?" The Comic scratched the back of his head.

 

"Government agents." Doc started off. "It's the most common thing used."

 

"I can't believe you didn't know that." Tim rushed off after Doc. He blew a raspberry at the Comic as he went.

 

"I can't either." Haven walked after the pair.

 

"Don't look at me." Pattern Ghost struggled forward in his powerless suit. "It's the first time I ever heard of it."

 

The Comic glared at the group staggering away from him. Then he smiled under his mask. He laughed softly.

 

"I thought I was the only comic." The Comic headed after his new friends.

 

The five of them looked at the heap of snow and stone. A figure in black stood in the distance. He seemed to blend in as a shadow on the landscape. Then he moved, letting them know he was the living person they had talked to earlier.

 

Smith started back to where they stood. He picked his way along.

 

"I found the plane." Smith held his hat down low. "I don't think it will of any use to us."

 

"Let me see." Doc looked around. "We can't stay here. We'll freeze to death before we make it anywhere on foot."

 

Doc led the group back the way Smith had walked. He moved with a sure-footedness that soon left the others behind. He paused when he found the plane. He rubbed his chin in thought.

 

They weren't going to fly out.

 

"What do you think, Doc?" Tim blanched when saw the one wing sticking out of the ground.

 

"We need to see if any of the equipment survived." Doc started checking his vest. "Then we need to see what we can use out of this mess."

 

"Do you really think we can get out of this?" The Comic gestured around them. "How are you going to do it?"

 

"A little thinking, a lot of muscle, and a pinch of luck." Doc's face almost broke a smile. "I need to look at things before I can say one way, or the other."

 

"How can we assist you, Doctor Shadow?" Smith's shadow stretched under the gray sky almost on its own volition.

 

"Give me some room to move." Doc looked around. "See if you can build some shelter from the wind. That will protect us while we work."

 

"Like igloos?" Haven looked around for a likely spot. "We can create a spot to build a wall around."

 

"Exactly." Doc pulled a rod and wide blade from his vest and screwed them together. He started digging.

 

"We need to dig a hole in the snow and ice." Haven marked her spot. "We'll need to put the rubble from the hole around us in layers. We don't have a way to put a roof on yet, but walls will keep the wind off."

 

"We don't have anything to dig with." Tim looked at the archaeologist. "How are we supposed to do this?"

 

"Hands, Timmy." The Comic waved his own in the boy's face. "Hands."

 

Doc dug down to the buried hull of the plane. Gas was on the air. He didn't know how much had spilt on the ice. Hopefully there was enough left to be useful. He needed that much luck.

 

He also needed an alternate if there wasn't any gas left.

 

If the others could build something to keep the wind off, it might be enough to buy them some time. He wasn't sure. He certainly didn't plan to let them die while he was around.

 

Never give up was the Shadow motto after all.

 

Doc found the hull of the plane after a few minutes of effort. He worked to uncover the door. He opened the door when he had the ice cleared away from the door. He pushed inside.

 

Doc checked the supplies. Some of it was missing. He surmised it had been scattered by the blast wave that had rearranged the landscape. Still food and tools were present, if scattered across the floor.

 

The food would keep them alive for at least two days. That's how long they had to build some form of transportation and get back to civilization.

 

Doc looked around one more time. He had an idea of what they could do. All he needed was time.

 

They could run out of food and starve if he couldn't make his idea work.

[csyphrett]

Re: Into the Past With Strangers

 

Every villain has to have a method of operation that suits them.

 

CES

[bubba smith]

Re: Into the Past With Strangers

 

in re chapter35 couldn't tim have summoned ghost angel to help?

[death tribble]

Re: Into the Past With Strangers

 

And no doubt what will happen to those poor' date=' luckless sailors will be described in detail . I get the distinct impression that Mad George Tribolyte sees people as tools to be exploited and expended as necessary. [/quote']

 

You're just getting that now?

 

Yeah I don't have a problem with this at all.

Besides they are Germans........

[csyphrett]

Re: Into the Past With Strangers

 

in re chapter35 couldn't tim have summoned ghost angel to help?

 

Ghost Angel has a hole in his chest and was banished. While a good mook buster, he has problems against someone who can match up with him.

CES

[csyphrett]

Re: Into the Past With Strangers

 

36

 

The little group excavated the wreckage. They used their quarrying to create a wall around the broken hull of the plane. That was enough to give them a respite from the wind. The work warmed them inside their clothes.

 

Doc Shadow spent his time taking the plane apart with explosive paste he had designed. There was no way he could get something together that would fly. He needed some other form of transportation.

 

It was too bad the zeppelin had been ripped away from its mooring by the blast. Anything might have happened, but he thought the explosion had ripped the bag apart as soon as it touched the skin of the gas bag.

 

He certainly wasn't going to hunt for it with what he had left.

 

Doc looked at what he had salvaged and reshaped with his cutting blasts. He formed a checklist in his mind. He had about half of what he needed. He would have to improvise the rest.

 

He didn't like that at all.

 

Luckily no one was hungry yet. Travel time would eat their supplies more than anything else.

 

Doc found the others taking a break. They had availed themselves of some of the water that lay around them. All they needed was a fire and the picture of a calm camp-out would be complete.

 

"I'll need some help." Doc enumerated their skills in his mind. He might have the perfect set of helpers for this. "We're going to build a sled. I'm hoping to salvage some of the gas and an engine to push us along. I don't know yet. I need help getting the hull together in one piece on the pontoons."

 

The legs had snapped off just like the wings. He found the cigars without their supports a little distance away from the main body of the wreck.

 

"Have you got a torch?" Pattern Ghost looked uncomfortable. "I can do some welding."

 

"Haven and I will help you out." The Comic finished his water before lowering the mask back over his chin. "How hard can it be?"

 

"I need to get the fuel and engine set while you're doing that." Doc nodded. "Tim, we'll need a line down the slope. I want you to tie off to a spike and lay out a strip."

 

"I'll help him with that, Doctor Shadow." The scarfed man seemed to blend in to the white seeming to be a shadow without a source.

 

"We don't need anything overlong." Doc paused to calculate. "We need enough to give us an indicator of direction when we get underway. I plan to be moving as soon as possible, night or day."

 

"The bay the Germans used is that way." The scarfed man pointed. "I think that way would be our best bet of catching up to them."

 

"We'll do what we can." Doc nodded before he started on his own job.

 

"Let's get started." The man in black took some rope from their gathered supplies and spikes. "I hope the doctor's idea works."

 

"I expect we'll know soon enough." The Comic stretched. "Show us this welding skill you have, Pee Gee."

 

The group worked for hours to construct their escape vehicle from the ashes of their plane. Smith and Tim laid out two lines like a big road to show where to pilot their sled when it got going. Pattern Ghost, the Comic, and Dr. Walkur propped up one side of the boat shaped bow. They slid a pontoon in place and welded it to the belly. Then they did the other side.

 

The burden had been lightened by the removal of the roof, doors, remains of wings.

 

Doc Shadow started with the fuel tanks. He found one empty, the other cracked. The cracked tank had some fuel in it. He didn't think that would be enough to get them halfway to where they needed to go.

 

He was going to have to improvise something for propulsion.

 

Doc searched the sorted wreckage. He found a bent pole. He straightened it out with his gloved hands. He spotted another one. He rigged up a cross from the two pieces.

 

Now he needed sails.

 

"We're done, Doctor." The man and boy in black joined Doc as he looked through their meager supplies. "What now?"

 

"We need to make a sail." Doc thought he saw something he could use. "Take this mast and have Pattern Ghost weld it the floor when he's done with the pontoons."

 

"So we're going to have a miraculous escape." Smith grabbed the heavy end of the cross. "Grab the other end, Tim. Let's get this done."

 

"I'm right with you." Tim grabbed the base in both hands. "I can't reach Ghost Angel. I hope he shows up soon."

 

"We can't count on him to rescue us, my boy." Smith started walking. "We have to fend for ourselves until he does present himself."

 

"I have never seen him hurt before this case, and he's been hurt bad enough to ignore the call already." Tim struggled after the tall agent. "I'm worried."

 

Doc pulled blankets designed to keep people warm in case of crashing in the wilderness out of a crash kit. He found a needle and thread in the first aid kit. He started sewing the blankets together. Hopefully that would be good enough to get them going.

 

He needed a rudder for steering.

 

Doc carried the woolen sail over to where the rest of the group struggled to get the mast in place. Pattern Ghost stood on deck and welded while the rest held the pole in place.

 

"We're going to have to use this for power." Doc handed the sail over when they were done. "Hopefully, we'll have the wind behind us all the way back to the coast."

 

"You're not asking for much." The Comic shook his head.

[csyphrett]

Re: Into the Past With Strangers

 

37

 

 

Mad George Tribolyte stood on the bridge of his new ship. The crew went about their tasks mechanically. He expected that. Self motivation was no longer their concern.

 

"We'll be in port in a few days." The captain's face had sunken since they had set sail. Burning light issued from his eyes.

 

"Very good." Tribolyte waved his hand. "We have to put the Baron ashore, and then set sail for some destination that gives us access to people without anyone knowing who we are."

 

"I'm sure Africa is quite nice this time of year." The Captain stared out to sea.

 

"I'm sure." Tribolyte walked toward the exit. "I'll leave the destination up to you. Just remember to avoid any British colony."

 

"Understood." The Captain didn't watch him go.

 

Tribolyte headed down to the deck. His crew wandered around, steering clear of him as he walked to the bow. A few days was nothing, but he would like to rid himself of the Baron.

 

The man wanted to know when the crew was going to return to normal. Loyalty was apparently his strong point.

 

Tribolyte certainly wasn't going to tell him never. That would cause too many problems for the small amount of sailing time they would be together.

 

The magician might have to remain on the Reich's good side just in case they won the forthcoming war. Mages would be hunted as enemies if they didn't work for the Socialists. He had already seen that.

 

And a dictatorship would make it easy for him to rise to an advisor rank if he could maneuver things his way.

 

Tribolyte concentrated on the water in front of the boat. He felt it with his mind. He found a current pushing the vast blue. He concentrated more, drawing the current to the surface. He locked the ship to it as best he could.

 

That should speed things up some.

 

Tribolyte headed back to the bridge. The deck swayed as the ship sped up as he wanted. They should be arriving in Argentina in a few hours instead of a few days. He would ask the Baron to disembark, then sail away into the unknown.

 

Tribolyte didn't favor a roaming existence on a Flying Dutchman. He enjoyed his estate in England. He had built it with blackmail and death. Now he could never go back. The Crown would want to hang him for his treason. They would get an expert to help them seal his domicile off.

 

He had known that the moment he had stumbled upon the disguised agent on the zeppelin.

 

Tribolyte entered the bridge. The Captain didn't turn his head to look at him. He stared at the line of travel implacably.

 

"Our speed has unexpectedly increased." The Captain nodded to the navigator. "We are getting a new arrival time right now."

 

"I'm going to my cabin." Tribolyte smiled. It had been the Captain's cabin first. "Send for me when we reach sight of land."

 

"What about the Baron?" The Captain pointed to a lone figure watching the crew move around on the deck. He was a fly at the distance between them.

 

"Give him our estimated arrival time if you have it when he asks." Tribolyte turned to go. "Allow him to report in with the radio if he hasn't done so. Tell him nothing else."

 

The Captain barely nodded acknowledgment of his orders.

 

You could bind a man to his ship but you couldn't make him like you.

 

Tribolyte found his cabin. It was bare of anything he associated with a living room. He would put Mr. Cook on finding furniture to use. A comfortable chair would do wonders for his spellcasting.

 

Mr. Cook would be able to find something. He always did.

 

Tribolyte sat down in the middle of the cabin. He concentrated. The room sealed itself from any outside influences. He needed time to think and plan for the future. He needed this alone time to recharge from the ashes of defeat.

 

He needed to push aside thoughts of revenge if he wanted to continue. The anger was bad for his mental processes.

 

He would remember his enemies. If he encountered them again, he planned to kill them. But he wasn't going to chase them. That would interfere in any other plans he might make to pursue his goals.

 

And accumulating secular power to lord it over the peons was worth a little time and patience.

 

The relic would have helped his quest. He was sure of that. He had needed more time with it. He might have made it a fantastic power source. And one bolt of lightning had changed that in an instant.

 

He pushed aside the bitterness. He had still learned some things from it. He was sure his knowledge would prove useful at some later time. At least his enemies had no idea what the thing had contained.

 

It would be years before Earth came close to the technology inside that orb.

 

Words burned into the wall across from where he sat. He planned to have his chair sit where he could look at those words. They would remind him of what had been denied him. He wouldn't hunt the people represented, but if their paths crossed in the future, he would not give them quarter.

 

A knock on the door trembled through his defenses. He looked up. One of the crew stood outside in the hall.

 

"Land has been sighted." The crewman leaned against the door to convey his message better.

 

"I'm on my way." Tribolyte looked at his watch. He had daydreamed the hours away.

 

The magician returned to the bow of the ship. He concentrated on the current, cutting loose from it. The ship immediately began to slow. They would lower the Baron over the side and head back to sea.

 

He surmised the German commander would not be happy about that.

[csyphrett]

Re: Into the Past With Strangers

 

38

 

Doc Shadow worked the rudder as the boat slid to a halt on the beach. It had been a rocky trip across the vast expanse. They were almost out of food. Their patience with each other was low.

 

Now they had rows of dead men stretched out in front of them.

 

"What happened here?" The Comic jumped from the boat. His mallet was in his hands.

 

Dr. Walkur and Pattern Ghost climbed out a little slower. They walked over to the closest bodies. Haven toed one on its side to look underneath.

 

"No blood." She let the body drop to the ground. "No signs of violence. It's like they laid down and died."

 

"Maybe not laid." Pattern Ghost demonstrated what he meant before getting back to his feet. "More like they dropped where they stood."

 

"Where is the boat?" Tim pointed at the empty ocean. "Don't tell me they fixed it after what happened."

 

Doc Shadow and Codename: V looked at the scene silently. Doc helped Tim over the side before he dropped to the ground himself. They had been traveling by sled overnight. It felt good to walk around.

 

Doc felt one of the bodies with an ungloved finger. He shook his head.

 

"It's impossible to say when these men died without an autopsy, but it looks like natural causes like a stroke, or heart attack. We don't have a way to check their blood for poison, but I am sure we wouldn't find any toxin in their blood." Doc looked out to sea. "I'm sure the Englishman did this based on what I see. I doubt he would use something so mundane as poison."

 

"Where did they go?" The Comic followed his gaze. "Pattern Ghost blew up their boat real good."

 

"They set sail somehow." Doc pointed to a set of tracks. "Only three men walked away from this. One of them was the Englishman."

 

"So we're stuck here." Tim looked around. "I don't want to be stuck here."

 

"Join the crowd." The Comic put his mallet away. "How do we get out of this?"

 

"We have to make sure the sled is seaworthy, then we'll set sail." Doc looked the beach over. "We'll have to fish for our dinners while we head for South America."

 

"We have some kind of supplies to help us." Codename: V walked over to where some boxes had been left behind a hummock when the ship had departed. He read the labels. He opened the top box to find dried meat and crackers. "It's not a lot, but it should see us to civilization if we can grab some fish on the way."

 

"We still lost." The Comic rubbed his exposed ears. "The bad guys got away. We can't chase them, and if we don't catch anything, we could still die of starvation or thirst."

 

"We can still get to somewhere that'll help us." Haven rubbed her own face. It felt frozen.

 

"We won." Doc looked around for anything else that could help them. "We just have to make sure we survive to enjoy it."

 

"How do you figure that?" The Comic's mask hid his frown as well as protected his face from the cold wind.

 

"Tribolyte didn't get what he wanted." Codename: V held his hat down with one hand. "We might have saved the world."

 

"That makes me feel less frozen." The Comic hopped up and down.

 

A hole opened in the ground. A gloved hand struck in the air. A man in a suit followed the hand. Cold eyes looked at the bedraggled adventurers.

 

"It's about time." Tim rushed over. "I have been calling and calling."

 

"I had to fix the hole in my chest." Ghost Angel barely smiled, but he did smile.

 

"We're in a pickle." Tim fixed his hat. "We need to get back to civilization before we croak. Can you help us?"

 

"I know of a way." Ghost Angel folded his arms together. "It will get you back. Did Tribolyte succeed?"

 

"Pattern Ghost blew up his relic." The Comic made a gun out of his hand. "He almost blew us up too."

 

"Get back in your boat." Ghost Angel pointed at the sled. "Close your eyes and hold on tight. This will take a few minutes. Remember to keep your eyes closed at all times. Don't let the sounds fool you into opening your eyes."

 

"We'll get blindfolds." Doc produced a knife. He started cutting strips of cloth out of the material. "We'll make sure so we don't have an accident."

 

"What happens if we do open our eyes?" Haven took her strip of cloth with the tip of her finger.

 

"You'll die." Ghost Angel waited for them to get back in the sleigh, secure themselves, and put on the blindfolds.

 

"Everyone ready?" Ghost Angel produced his sword. "Remember to keep your hands inside the vehicle at all times."

 

Ghost Angel split the frozen ground under the sled with one slice of his sword. Hot wind blew straight up from the fissure as they fell into the crack.

 

"Yee-haw!" Tim exclaimed as the former plane fell.

 

"No need to shout." The Comic gripped his side of the mast that much more.

 

The air filled with cries and wailing. A call for water went up as the sled roared along some invisible tracks. Some offered secrets, the location of hidden treasures, a cure for the evils of mankind.

 

"Don't listen." Doc's voice crashed over the sled. "They want to trap us here with them. Just look at the bottom of the sled and think of something else."

 

"Like what?" The Comic thought he heard the voice of Morris Peterman. He certainly hoped not. Morris had been filled full of lead during a police raid.

 

"What is your town like?" Doc mentally kicked himself. He should cited something more personal. "What do you have to live for?"

 

"Getting off this roller coaster would be nice." The Comic shuddered as the hot reek of sulfur washed over him.

 

A loud splash of water preceded a small shower for the group. Warmth made their garments hang on their bodies. Doc took his coat off as he sniffed the air.

 

"You can take the blindfolds off." Ghost Angel sounded loud in the quiet after their landing.

 

Doc did so. He looked up at the Statue of Liberty. He was home again.

 

"I hope I never have to do that again." The Comic raised his mask enough to vomit over the side.

 

"It was great." Tim shook the boat. "We're in New York. That's great, G.A."

 

"I'll see that he gets home." Doc smiled at the sight of his city. Not even a spirit of vengeance could dampen that relief.

[csyphrett]

Re: Into the Past With Strangers

 

epilogue

 

Under-sergeant Soshi Cygnia walked down the glazed hall to her office, cup of stimulant in hand. Her black hair had been cut short per regulation. She had lost an eye during a landing. That had landed her in the Communications Building.

 

Punching a superior in the face had landed her in the Probe Section.

 

It was a dead end job. She hated it.

 

Cygnia paused at her door. She had a long, boring day behind her desk waiting for a call. At least she could check the live feeds for combat missions while she was stuck filling out paperwork and going over report methods.

 

She should have killed that stupid Colonel.

 

Cygnia unlocked the door and stepped inside. She sat behind the desk, checking her implant clock. She still had a handful of minutes before she could check in. The system wouldn't let her log in until it was time.

 

Cygnia drank her juice. The chemicals sliced through the morning blahs well enough. She wondered what it would be like to actually get a probe call into the office. It hadn't happened in her lifetime as far as she knew.

 

Cygnia smiled as the system beeped. She placed her thumb on the print indicator. The system activated. A floating hologram leaped into action. The navy's satellites began dumping information to her station.

 

All of it was all clear.

 

She sighed.

 

It looked like it would be the same old, same old.

 

She wanted so bad to get on the front lines. Every petition for transfer had been denied. The last one had warned her to stop trying or face decommission. Maybe she should have picked the firing squad after all.

 

The system beeped at her. She had an incoming signal. The under-sergeant froze for a few seconds as she reviewed procedures. The call had come finally.

 

Then it stopped.

 

Cygnia frantically checked the systems. Maybe it was a false alarm. She should have a direction to point the locator rods. The only thing registered was a nondirectional pulse. The wave had hit several border posts that relayed the signal back to their firebases that relayed them back to Central to the Communications Building. Her office was the last stop.

 

Cygnia sent a command back to the border for them to point dishes back in the direction the wave had come from when it hit them. Maybe she could triangulate a source.

 

Cygnia smiled. This might be her chance to get out of this dead end, and back shooting things again.

 

She couldn't mess this up.

 

Maybe the listening posts had screwed up. Maybe it had just been a cosmic phenomenon that clouded the bands. Maybe someone had sent a fake signal to get her excited.

 

She vowed to shoot someone if that last possibility came to light.

 

Give me something else I can use. Give me something. I need it. I need to get out of this cell. I need to shoot someone. Give it to me. Give it to me.

 

Another signal beamed into the big ears she had turned beyond the borders of the Conglomerate. It lit her screen in vectors and wave lines. The frequency was from an old probe. She could tell that from the way it shook hands with the navy equipment filtering it to her.

 

Cygnia sent out commands. She needed to get a better fix. She needed to figure out where the exploding circle radiated from. Then the Fleet could sail to that source and deal with what's there.

 

Cygnia wanted to be on that flotilla.

 

Cygnia found she couldn't narrow the wave down to a specific solar system. She gritted her teeth as she did everything she could think of to find that one planet. The best she could do was narrow it down to a particular slice of space.

 

Cygnia groaned. It was just her luck. She put her head down on the desk. She should have known that it wouldn't be too easy.

 

Cygnia collated the information in a file. It was the best she could do. Visions of a trip back into space popped. The best she could hope for was a chance to help pinpoint the planet where the probe had landed.

 

Cygnia dug into the signal to try to figure out what kind of probe had sent her the call. The file of information went up to Fleet Control. That might give them some kind of clue how old the probe was, and why it had activated now.

 

Analysis wasn't her strong point, but she should have something in the files. Once she knew what matched up with the signal, she would have a better idea what was out there waiting for them.

 

The only thing she found in the unlisted probes file was a lost ship that had been in combat and jumped randomly with an attacking rebel ship. Both had been considered destroyed from the wreckage left at the scene where they had crossed the light barrier.

 

That had been at the start of the Conglomerate when it had started expanding from their home system.

 

The signature matched probes from that era. That technology had not advanced much in the intervening centuries. It hadn't needed to because of the way the navy expanded in other areas.

 

Why send a probe when you can send a flying weapons platform?