Outlanders - Tomb of Time Part 11

Coldly, Kane said, "This was all a very nice piece of subterfuge. You shouldn't have signed it."

Sindri's eyebrows angled up his high forehead toward his hairline. He a.s.sumed an expression of mock hurt. "Are you implying that you knew all along you'd find your old pal Sindri working his magic behind the scenes?"

"Magic?" Kane repeated disdainfully.

He noticed Brigid surrept.i.tiously edging away from the little man, seeking to reach a position where Sindri would be forced to take his eyes off Grant and Kane in order to keep her within his range of vision.

"Picking over old predark tech isn't the act of a magician," Kane continued. "It's the practice of a scavenger, a grubber with delusions."

Sindri's lips compressed in a tight line, and rage glittered in his eyes. The barrel of the revolver trembled slightly, whether from its weight or Sindri's struggle to tamp down in his fury, Kane had no way of knowing. His lips stretched in a hard, st.i.tched-on smile. "You're trying to provoke me, Mr. Kane, and doing a rather execrable job of it.. .just as Miss Bri-gid is doing an execrable job of skulking way from me- Please stop. I'd truly hate to shoot one of your legs out from under you."

Kane's Sin Eater came up, the bore on a direct line with Sindri's forehead. The barrel of Sindri's pistol didn't waver from Kane's own head. "Or," the little man continued, not missing a beat, "I could blow out the undercooked gruel that pa.s.ses for Mr. Kane's brains."

Brigid came to a halt and the look she directed toward him was so full of barely suppressed fury and loathing, Kane was surprised Sindri didn't shudder. Instead, the little man said in a calm, reasonable tone, "Let's not spoil our reunion with a display of bad temper. I mean none of you harm."

"And why is that?" Grant demanded skeptically.

"Don't try to convince us you've changed your ways," Kane remarked. "We didn't fall for that the last time."

Sindri sneered. "The h.e.l.l you didn't. Unbuckle those d.a.m.n power holsters and drop them."

Kane and Grant didn't move.

"I wasn't making a request, gentlemen."

"No," Kane said flatly. "We won't do it. I'm sick and fed the f.u.c.k up of dealing with you, Sindri. We've done this dance before, and it's past time to come up with a new tune."

"Mr. Kane-" Sindri began in a tone sibilant with warning.

"You're outgunned two to one," Kane broke in impatiently. "You may manage to shoot both of us, butyou d.a.m.n well know you won't be able to kill both of us before you're shot full of holes."

"Especially," Grant put in, "not with that gun you've got."

Sindri frowned. "What's wrong with it?"

Grant shrugged. "Nothing, if you're an antique collector. It's a Smith & Wesson Army revolver, Model 1869. Also known as model number three. It's a .44 cal, and I doubt someone your size would be able to handle its kick. Since it's single action, you'd only get off one shot before either me or Kane or both of us burned you down."

Sindri's frown deepened as Grant spoke, and he eyed the long barrel of the pistol critically.

"I don't know where the h.e.l.l you got the d.a.m.n thing," Grant went on, "or whether it's the genuine article or a repro, but it's an awfully chancy blaster to bet your life on."

Sindri made a "hmm" of contemplation, and a line of worry creased his high forehead. Then, with a laugh he lowered the big revolver. "As a mere novice in the mysteries of firearms, I bow to your master's knowledge, Mr. Grant."

Reversing his grip on the pistol, he presented it to Grant b.u.t.t first. He grinned up at the two men who stared at him numbly, struck speechless by astonishment. Slowly and carefully, as if he were reaching for a venomous serpent, Grant took the proffered revolver.

"Don't look so shocked, gentlemen," Sindri admonished. "I've been trying to convince Miss Bri-gid that I mean you no harm." He glanced toward her. "I trust I've proved my point?"

Brigid shook her head. "Hardly. What was all that talk of shooting out legs and brains?"

Sindri fluttered a dismissive hand through the air. ' 'Theater. Psycho-drama. If you believed my intentions were hurtful--or in your case, vengeful-then making myself helpless before you should alleviate any lingering doubts."

Brigid smiled scornfully. "You're never helpless, Sindri. It's in your nature to always have an ace on the line."

Sindri scowled at her. "The meaning of your vernacular is very often obscure. What are you talking about?"

Tossing back her hair, Brigid touched the left side of her neck. With a sinking sensation iiHhe~pit~of his stomach, Kane saw the glint of silver beneath her mane. She wore a mate to his own chrome spider.

"When you confiscated the control mechanism," she intoned, "you claimed you knew how to get this thing off me. You have yet to do it. Kane has the very same new addition. You'd go a long way toward persuading us you were sincere if you kept your word."

"My apologies," Sindri replied earnestly. "I felt you would be more apt to behave yourself if I held something over you."

He turned toward a desk and opened a deep drawer. The barrels of the Sin Eaters came up, training onhis back.

"So you ran into the night-gaunts, too?" Kane asked, trying to force a casual, conversational note into his voice, as if he were inquiring simply to be polite.

Brigid replied noncommittally, "Something like that." She indicated Sindri with a nod of her head.

"You might want to ask him about them. Apparently, he's their G.o.d."

Rummaging through the drawer, Sindri said distractedly, "It was an accidental identification. But once it was made, I went along with the masquerade in order to learn."

"Learn what?" Grant rumbled. "How to exploit people's faith in you? That's not a subject you need a refresher course in."

Sindri turned, affecting not to notice the two pistols aimed at him. A little defensively he said, "That is true enough, Mr. Grant. But at least I learned how to remove the oubolus." He held up a circlet of metal, its surface studded with small gemstones.

Kane squinted toward it. "The what?"

Tersely and briefly, Brigid explained what she had learned about Megaera and her Furies. She touched the metal spider on her neck. "I don't know how these things do what they do. It's beyond any science I know."

Kane quirked a challenging eyebrow at Sindri. "And what about the science you know?"

Sindri tossed the wristband from hand to hand, shrugging dismissively. Brigid tensed, breathing in sharply through her nostrils. The little man glanced toward her, then with a sly smile ran his fingers lightly over the gems. He murmured, "Let's see... which one is it...which one..."

Kane took a step toward him, growling, "That's enough, you little-"

With a triumphant "Ah!" Sindri/s thumb pressed down on a white stone. Kane heard a faint buzz emanate from the spider on his neck, a noise echoed by the object clinging to Brigid. He barely felt the leg filaments withdrawing from his flesh. Then a silver egg clinked against the floor and rolled, b.u.mping gently against the one that had fallen from Brigid.

Both of them heaved sighs of relief and rubbed the places on their necks where the devices had been attached. Except for a slight itchy tenderness, Kane felt no puncture wounds or lacerations.

Sindri's blue eyes flicked from Kane to Brigid expectantly. "No words of thanks?" he asked ingenuously.

"Since you're somehow responsible for Megaera and her Furies being in here in the first place," Brigid retorted darkly, "no."

Stepping warily away from the bulbous objects on the floor, Kane commented, "I figured as much, since he's adopted their fashions."

Sindri brushed his fingers over the front of his bodysuit. "This old thing? Actually, Mr. Kane, I adopted this regalia for purely functional reasons.""Like what?" Grant demanded, a hint of menace underscoring his tone. "Exactly what have you been up to here and in Chicago?"

Sindri beamed up at him, laugh toes deepening around his azure eyes. "I thought that would be obvious. A little bit of this and little bit of that."

"Explain a bit of this and that," Kane suggested.

Sindri's smile broadened into an engaging, boyish grin. "The usual, as you'd expect from me. Becoming the master of s.p.a.ce and time, that sort of thing."

RATHER THAN RESPOND to Sindri's melodramatic boast, Kane asked in a tone bordering on complete disinterest, "Since you raised the subject earlier, just how did you live through the crash of the Aurora?"

Sindri shrugged as if the matter were of only minor importance. "I could say I simply reversed an old law of physics to suit myself-whatever goes down must come up, but I doubt you'd be satisfied with that explanation."

Grant made a spitting sound of derision. "You got that pegged."

Sindri shrugged. "The actual explanation is exceptionally mundane. I bailed out of the Aurora before it crashed into the side of Mount Rushmore. It was a very near thing, though, if that makes any difference."

"Not to me it doesn't," Brigid snapped.

He looked at her reproachfully. "You're still angry at me about what happened with the commander?"

"No," she answered. "Not angry."

Grant and Kane knew Brigid was fast, but even they were taken aback by how swiftly she shot out her left leg. The sole of her foot impacted with a meaty thud directly in the center of Sindri's mid-section, doubling him up and sending him reeling backward. He fell unceremoniously on his right side, hugging his belly and sucking in great lungfuls of air.

Kane knew Brigid hadn't used her full strength in the stab-kick and even if she had, Sindri was far tougher and more resilient than he looked. Brigid glared down at him, rage seething in her eyes. "Not angry," she repeated in a trembling voice. "It's hatred, Sindri."

Slowly, Sindri pushed himself to his feet. "Giving pain for pain won't bring her back. You disappoint me, Miss Brigid. I had thought your thirst for vengeance would have been satisfied by forcing me to stay behind on the Aurora."

He straightened, rubbing his midsection. "If you follow me, perhaps I can show you something that might make the flame of hate burn a little less bright."

Grant smiled crookedly. "Maybe she'd prefer dislocating all your major joints instead.""Maybe I would," Brigid said tightly.

Sindri favored her with a sad smile, then turned, marching toward an aisle formed by a double row of gla.s.s-fronted mainframes. "Kicking around an opponent half your size is something I would've expected from Mr. Kane, not from you."

Anger rushed heat p.r.i.c.kles to the back of Kane's neck and warmed his cheeks. The situation was entirely too reminiscent of the time when Sindri played their host on Parallax Red. He had been posing then to conceal his real agenda, and there didn't seem to be a good reason to believe he was doing anything other than that now.

"Hold it," he barked. "We're not going anywhere with you until we get some answers."

Sindri's pace didn't falter. Over his shoulder he said breezily, "That's truly unfortunate, Mr. Kane- because the only way you'll get any answers, much less some, is to come with me."

"There's another way," Grant grunted. He thumbed back the hammer of the Smith & Wesson. "Unlike you, I'd have no problem shooting one or both of your legs out from under you."

Sindri kept walking. "That would be the act of an unregenerate ingrate, Mr. Grant...to even contemplate crippling the man who quite literally s.n.a.t.c.hed your beloved little albino from the jaws of certain death."

Grant's normally immobile face contorted, molding itself into a rictus of soul-deep pain. With a long-legged bound, he shouldered between Kane and Brigid and jerked Sindri to a violent halt by clamping a hand on his right shoulder. He spun the little man as if he were a doll.

Sindri tried to slap Grant's hand away, his eyes shining bright with first anger, then fear when he looked into the hollow bore of the revolver. "Get your hand off me, Mr. Grant. You don't want to do this."

In response, Grant dug in his fingers and Sindri bit back a cry of pain. He nearly went to his knees.

Glaring up at the man towering giantlike over him, Sindri said in a tone sibilant with repressed fury, "Yes, it was me, Mr. Grant. I did it. I mentioned before that you owed me a debt."

"Why'd you do it?" Grant demanded, his voice husky and thick. "You don't know her."

"What difference does it make why I did it? She obviously means something to all of you."

Sindri gazed past Grant to Brigid. "If you must slap a motivation on my actions, then let it be my way of atoning for what happened at the Anthill."

"If that's the case," Brigid replied, "then we owe you nothing. We're even."

Sindri grimaced under the relentless pressure of Grant's grasp. "Perhaps that's so. But you don't know how I did it or what else I can do. That's really the whole crux of the matter, isn't it? That's what has kept me alive since I disarmed."

Grant released the little man. "I have a feeling that if we really tried to kill you, this place is rigged to stop us."Sindri didn't voice a denial. He rubbed his shoulder and scowled up at Grant.

"Furthermore," Kane interjected, "you need our help for something...otherwise we'd be dead by now."

"Two of you would be at least," Sindri muttered sulkily.

"So what is it you want us for?" Grant challenged. "And skip the bulls.h.i.t about being a master of s.p.a.ce and time. We already know this is an Operation Chronos facility and that you've been d.i.c.k-ing around with it. We've been here before, as you d.a.m.n well know."

Sindri pursed his lips as if he tasted something sour. "Don't try to pretend I've done nothing more impressive than find an old automobile and tinker it back together. In most ways, Operation Chronos was the most crucial undertaking of the Totality Concept."

Grant, Brigid and Kane knew Sindri spoke the truth, at least as much as they knew from Lakesh, who claimed that not only was the nuclear holocaust preventable, but also it was not supposed to happen.

The temporal dilation of Operation Chronos had disrupted the chronon structure and triggered a probability wave dysfunction. An alternate event horizon had been created.

A year or so before, Lakesh had tried to dispatch Kane and Brigid back through time to a point only a month before the nukecaust so they could hopefully trigger a second alternate event horizon and thus avert the apocalypse.

Though they were translated into a past temporal plane, they came to learn it was not their world's past, but another world's almost identical to it. Any actions they undertook had no bearing on their reality's present and future.

Lakesh could only engage in fairly futile speculation on what had happened, and on the system of physics at work. If the chronon theory was correct, then time itself was made up of subatomic particles jammed together like beads on a string. According to the theory, between each bead, each individual unit of time might exist in an infinite series of parallel universes, fitted into the probability gaps between the chronons.

"Besides," Sindri went on, "you're wrong."

"About what?" Kane asked.

"About this being an Operation Chronos installation."

Three pairs of eyes regarded the little man with skepticism, suspicion and outright hostility. Still, his declaration captured their undivided attention, which apparently was his intent.

"If it's not a Chronos facility," Brigid said, "then what is it?"

With a chuckle lurking at the back of his throat, Sindri announced, "It's the Operation Chronos site."

In a tone ragged with impatience, Grant demanded, "Just what the h.e.l.l does that mean? That this is the main headquarters of the Chronos subdivision?"

"It's that," Sindri conceded, "but it's far more. This is indeed the place where the final attempts to coordinate all the experiments and the breakthroughs in time travel were made. It's here where thedebugged and fully functional temporal dilator was built. A pity the nukecaust came along before it could be put to its full use."

"You said it was more," Kane pointed out.

"Yes, I did." Sindri turned smartly on his heel. "And since you will require proof of my words, I'll need to provide visual aids."

Sindri strode down the aisle between the computers, not bothering to check if the others were following him. Kane ran an impatient hand through his hair. To Grant and Brigid, he asked, "Is there any point to us pretending we're not going along with this?"