“Cliff and Dad were right. They were automobile lights. A whole column of men and vehicles is moving toward us. They killed Cliff.”
Travis stopped abruptly, stunned. “What?”
“Yes.” Eric went striding on, once again making Travis hasten to catch up with him. “It’s a whole army of men.” Eric looked around, suddenly noticing the lack of activity in the village. “Where is everybody?”
Travis was startled momentarily by the question. “Uh—they’re in the schoolhouse. We were—uh—they’re having a meeting, trying to keep the kids occupied.”
“Good,” Eric said, oblivious to the sudden change in Travis. “That will save time getting everybody together. We may have to evacuate the village.” He pulled up short, causing Travis to bump against his arm. “Listen!” he commanded, raising his hand.
They both cocked their heads as the faint echo of rifle fire rolled up the valley toward them.
“It’s started!” Eric said, grabbing Travis by the elbow. “They’ve reached the bridge already. We’ve got to hurry.”
“What is going on?” Travis demanded. “There shouldn’t be shooting. What if they come in peace?”
“Cliffs dead!” Eric snapped angrily. “They don’t come in peace.” He dragged Travis into motion, talking quickly, outlining what had to be done, then answering Travis’s rapid-fire questions about the events of the past few hours.
As they rounded the corner and started up the street that ended at the white frame schoolhouse, Travis was shaking his head. “It’s all wrong,” he muttered. “Those stupid, blundering idiots!”
Eric spun around angrily. “You think it’s stupid to protect ourselves?”
That pulled Travis out of his thoughts, and he shook his head. “I don’t mean the villagers. I mean those idiot fools in the blue and orange uniforms.”
“Oh.” Eric took two more steps, then stopped short again, staring at Travis. “How did you know they were wearing blue and orange uniforms?”
Travis looked past Eric, then jerked his thumb behind him. “Did they look like that?” he asked softly.
Eric turned in time to see two men step out from behind a nearby building. They were clad in bright orange and blue onepiece uniforms and orange helmets. Each pointed a stubby, longbarreled pistol directly at Eric. Instinctively, Eric started to whirl, bringing up his rifle, but Travis was quicker; he snatched the rifle out of Eric’s grasp, jumping back from him.
Three more men in similar dress came running out from behind the schoolhouse as Eric stared, dumbfounded.
“All right,” Travis barked. “Get him inside with the others. Something has gone wrong. We’ve got to get down to the river bridge and stop a massacre.”
“You’re one of them!” Eric cried hoarsely, the understanding hitting him like a runaway hay wagon.
Travis smiled sadly. “How do you think they knew where the village was?”
Eric had risen to the balls of his feet, his fingers extended like the talons of a hawk. With a cry of rage, he launched himself at Travis, but as swift as he was, the nearest man was quicker. The barrel of the weapon swung a fraction of an inch. There was no sound, but Eric was caught in midair, as though hit by an invisible sweeping steel boom that instantly stopped his forward flight and hurled him backward. He bounced once hard against a hitching post, then slumped forward, face down in the street.
Chapter 4
Considering how important it was to the total function of Central Control, and indeed to the total function of Shalev and the entire Alliance of Four Cities, the Monitoring Room was really quite unremarkable. About thirty feet long and twenty feet wide, it was painted in pale blue and orange, as was much of the rest of Central Control. As one entered from the main hallway, the wall to the right was bare except for a door marked “Authorized Personnel Only.” Behind that door stood a dozen large CPUs—the central processing units for the entire computer system, the heart of Shalev and the Alliance of Four Cities.
But it was the wall to the left that made the Monitoring Room what it was. Along the entire length of the wall was a built-in cabinet system containing four computer consoles with keyboards. These monitoring consoles were overshadowed by the two large tracking screens filling the whole wall above them. If the CPUs held the heart of the system, these screens were the eyes. On them, the computers could pinpoint any one of the seventy thousand citizens of Shalev in a few seconds, a flashing light showing the person’s location on a grid map of the city.
Travis Oakes stopped outside the door to the Monitoring Room and rechecked his orange and blue dress uniform, tugging the jacket downward. Four weeks of farm work had tightened his waist muscles, he noted, not without some satisfaction. His fingers briefly straightened the Guardian emblem on his lapel; then, satisfied, he took a deep breath, opened the door, and slipped inside.
After the simple rooms and furnishings of the village, the gleaming glass and steel computer consoles and digital readout panels of the Monitoring Room stood in sharp contrast. He stopped and looked around, letting the room’s familiarity soak back into him.
His eyes fell on the figure bent over one of the consoles, and he felt a sudden quickening of his pulse. Nicole Lambert had not yet noticed him, so absorbed was she in studying the screen in front of her. He stepped back, content for a moment to study her in profile. The one-piece jumpsuit of the Guardians couldn’t fully hide the graceful cut of her figure. Had Travis been the sculptor, he might have changed her facial features slightly, lowered the cheekbones a touch, perhaps placed her large, green eyes a fraction of an inch closer together. Her mouth, which curved softly under an exquisite nose, he would have left exactly as it was now. It pulled the rest together perfectly, making her altogether more than satisfactory.
She leaned forward slightly and frowned. Her brows pulled together, giving her a girlish look, as though she were scolding an errant pet. Then she flashed a look of triumph and began typing rapidly on the keyboard. When she finished, she tossed her head in satisfaction, and her soft brown hair bounced back into place, settling gently on her shoulders.
Travis could name half a dozen women who might surpass Nicole in outward beauty, but not one who combined outward loveliness with the inner vibrancy, the spirited intelligence that this woman radiated. Every conversation proved to be a refreshing challenge. It was this vitality that most intrigued him, perhaps because it was so rare in the women of Shalev.
Travis frowned. Research and Development had been promising the Major a solution to that problem for years, but as yet the promises were unfulfilled, and a wooden sameness permeated all too many of the women he had been interested in. He shook his head, suddenly aware how glad he was to be home. Then he stepped forward. “Nicole,” he said softly.
Her head turned, then her eyes widened. “Travis!” In an instant she was on her feet and into his arms.
He spun her around once, a little surprised by the warmth of her welcome. As he sat her down, she pulled back, blushing deeply, obviously a little surprised. “I—we didn’t expect you until tonight. Communications said you radioed in last night from Serenity.”
“I did, but a few of the men took a vote—” he grinned and squeezed her hand—”with a little encouragement from me, and decided to drive all night. The rest of the men are bringing in the villagers and should be here by tonight. Except for one, and we brought him with us. But anyway, we’re back.”
Her eyes dropped slightly, the thick tangle of lashes turning them a beguiling turquoise. “I’m glad.”
“Does that mean I was missed?”
She looked up and smiled, almost shyly. “You know you were.”
Travis’s brown eyes teased her as he held up her left hand. “I see my warning worked.”
“What warning?”
“I told the men who stayed behind that if I came home and found a ring on your finger, they would get permanent duty on the Outer Perimeter.”
She laughed lightly and pulled a face at him. “So th
at’s why no one would eat lunch with me.”
“You’d better believe it. But to make up for it, how about dinner tonight?”
“Oh, I’d love to, but seriously, aren’t you exhausted?” She studied his face, deeply tanned since she had last seen him, and saw the weariness in his eyes. Suddenly she realized how much she had missed him, and she was tempted to throw her arms around him again. But she merely reached down and took his hand. “It must have been terrible.”
Travis took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “It wasn’t very pretty.”
“What happened?”
“I have to give a full report right now to the Major. He’ll meet us in Detention, in the observation room. He’d like you there.”
Nicole’s head jerked up. “Me?”
He nodded, then pointed to her console. “File off what you’re doing and let’s go.”
“Why does he want me there?”
“They’re going to start implanting the people we brought back, and—”
“I don’t want to be there, Travis,” she said, stepping back. “I always hate that. You know that.”
“Hey, listen! Let me finish. The Major doesn’t want you to be there for the implantations, but he has three or four men he wants to bring into the Guardians. One especially—the one we brought back with us—is going to be a real challenge. His father was killed trying to stop us.”
“How awful! But if he’s that much of a problem, why use him?”
“Because if we can bring him over, he would be perfect as a commander of the Perimeter Forces. He’s as much at home in the forest as in the village. He’s resourceful, innovative, and adaptable—a natural leader. Within one week after my arrival in the village, I knew he was the one the Major has been looking for.” He touched her arm. “The Major wants you in on the turn-around from the very beginning. So turn off your machine and let’s go.”
Nicole’s face softened. “Okay. I didn’t mean to stand here questioning you.” She stepped to the bank of instruments, punched a couple of keys on the keyboard, then shut the machine off. “Okay,” she said, turning back to face him.
On an impulse, he stepped forward, took her in his arms, and kissed her. For an instant, her body stiffened in surprise, but then she responded in a soft, warm acceptance of his embrace. When he pulled back, her eyes were wide, searching his. “Mr. Oakes,” she said softly, “is that what you learned from the girls in that village?”
“I missed you, Nicole. More than I expected.”
She cocked her head to one side. “I think you very neatly sidestepped my question, but I find your answer quite acceptable. Now, do we walk down to Detention like this, or do we act more like the two proper, senior members of the staff we’re supposed to be?”
Travis smiled, stepped back, and bowed. “After you, Miss Lambert.”
The Major had not yet arrived, and as Nicole and Travis entered the small, narrow observation room, Nicole moved to the window and studied the figure lying on the cot in the cell with his face toward her. He didn’t have Travis’s rugged handsomeness, but his features were pleasant, with a square chin and strong mouth. His hair was rough cut and dark brown, but lightened by hours in the sun. The sun had also left his face and neck a deep tan. His hands were farmer’s hands and his clothes plainly homemade. “Is that the one?”
Travis stepped up next to her. “Yes. Eric Lloyd.”
“He’s young.”
“Twenty-four. Same as you.”
“But I expected an older man. Is he married?”
“Hey!” Travis growled. “What kind of question is that? I know he’s good looking, but—”
She dug her elbow into his side. “Come on. You said his father was killed. Does he have any other family? That could make a difference in how quickly he responds.”
“His mother is here. He has a sister who’s twenty-one and two younger sisters, one nine and the other six. They’re all fine.”
“Will they be implanted?”
“Of course.”
Nicole frowned, thinking of the six-year-old. “Families of the Guardians are exempt from implantation. Why won’t that be true for his?”
Travis shrugged. “That’s up to the Major, but his policy in cases like this is to go with a Stage Two for now, pull them back to Stage One when the candidate begins to prove himself, then remove them completely once we are sure he is completely turned. That way he’ll have some leverage.”
He was watching her closely for her reaction, but Nicole continued to stare through the one-way glass. “Has he been sedated the whole time?”
“Yes. We used the stun gun on him and then put him under sedation before he came fully out of it. But we gave him the last injection late last night, so it should be wearing off any time now.”
“So he’ll have no idea where he is?”
“None. And he doesn’t know about his father either. That happened after he was captured.”
She shook her head. “Then he is going to have a lot of reason for hating us. That is going to make it very difficult. I—”
At that moment the door pushed open, and the Major strode in. “Travis!” He quickly crossed the room and gripped the younger man’s hand. “Welcome back.”
“Thank you, sir. It’s good to be back.”
“Hello, Nicole. How are you?”
“Fine, sir, thank you.”
He stepped to the window and peered through. “This is our boy?”
“Yes,” Travis nodded, “that’s him. Eric Lloyd.”
“Good. Let’s go into the conference room and sit down.” He took Nicole’s elbow. “Did Travis tell you I’d like you to monitor this one, Nicole?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Come in with us. I want you to hear Travis’s report.” He guided her out of the room and down the hall to a conference room. He helped her with her chair, motioned Travis toward another, and sat down himself, crossing his legs carefully so as to keep straight the knife-sharp creases in his navy blue, pin-striped business suit. Nicole smiled inwardly. He was, as usual, absolutely immaculate. Not a strand of his short, gray hair was out of place, and his shoes gleamed like polished obsidian. Though in his early fifties, he was as tall and trim as a sixteen-year-old. His pleasant face appeared more solemn because of a perfectly groomed mustache and horn-rimmed glasses that made his pale blue eyes seem larger than they were. He looked more like a banker or an accountant than the most important and powerful man in the Alliance of Four Cities.
“What went wrong?” In his usual blunt way, the Major dismissed further formalities. “How come thirteen Guardians are dead?”
Travis took a deep breath. “Well, let me start at the beginning. As I indicated in my reports, I had no trouble being accepted in the village. After I was let off by the men, I spent three days circling around to come in from the south. I had food enough for only one day, so by the time I stumbled into the valley, I looked pretty authentic.”
“They had no idea where you were from?”
“No. I told them I had been with a small group of families living in northern Utah who had been caught by a group of roaming bandits—the villagers called them the Marauders. I said I was the only survivor.”
“Good, good.”
“I hid the radio transmitter away from the village.” Travis smiled. “It wasn’t always easy to slip away. That’s why I missed a couple of reports.”
“I understand.”
“Anyway, the village accepted me very quickly. In fact,” he added modestly, “normally, Eric would have been left in charge of the village defenses. His father is the accepted leader for the village, but surprisingly, Eric is viewed as the second in command.” He paused. “Well, actually, that isn’t really too surprising once you come to know Eric. He is very much like his father—bright, resourceful, courageous, and personable. I told Nicole that he’s a natural leader, and the villagers see that too.”
He took a breath. “But anyway, Eric’s father wanted Eric to join
Doc Cameron, so he took the men down to the river and left me in charge of the village defenses. That, of course, made the capture of the village much easier.”
The Major nodded, obviously pleased. “For you to gain their confidence to that degree in less than a month’s time, that is remarkable.” He leaned back, putting his hands together to form a steeple. “So what went wrong? We’ve never had this much trouble taking a group before.”
“Two things. First, Captain Byers was delayed by a flash flood. He lost almost half a day and decided to travel at night to get back on schedule.”
“No!” the Major said angrily. “I warned them not to do that.”
“I know, but he figured he was still nearly thirty miles from the village, and it would be all right. But unfortunately, Eric’s father and Dr. Cameron were out hunting. They camped on a high ridge, and—” He shrugged.
“Cameron is the brain surgeon?”
“Yes. Eric’s father hightailed it back to the village to warn us and sent Eric with some dynamite to join—”
“They had explosives?” Nicole broke in.
“Yes, Eric’s dad was a chemist and an explosives expert. They make their own. They also have reloading equipment and make their own gunpowder as well.” He turned back to the Major. “Anyway, we would still have been all right. Lights meant civilization. The village was wary but very excited, eager to see who we were.”
“It was Cameron who made the first contact?”
“Yes. Eric was hidden in the trees, covering him with a rifle. At first Captain Byers made out as if they were looking for some unknown village. Then he inadvertently let it slip that he knew how far away it was. Doc was instantly suspicious and started to back off. Bruce panicked and tried to stop him. That’s when Eric opened fire, and Bruce was hit.”