"I'll live," Delaney managed to reply, though his voice was a bit high.
"Nice work," Steiger said to Andre. "You two are slowing down," she said. "You should work out more often. What do we do with him now? We can't just leave him here."
"No, and we'd better get out while we still can," said Steiger. He bent down over Hunter's warp disc and started programming coordinates. "I think we're going to need some help. We'll clock him back with us and turn him over to Curtis. Then we bring the Rangers back with us and hit this place with everything we've got."
"Major Curtis!" the sentry shouted.
Curtis came running. From the direction of the river, four people dressed in ancient Greek costume were coming toward him. Two of them supported a third between them, with his arms over their shoulders.
"Hold your fire!" Curtis shouted.
"Got a prisoner for you, Major," said Steiger. "Capt. Reese Hunter of the Special Operations Group." They dropped Hunter to the ground at Curtis' feet.
"Well done," said Curtis. "Mission accomplished?"
"Not exactly," said Delaney. "We've got a problem. A big one. Hope your boys are ready for some action, Major."
"The whole thing was a setup," Steiger said. "The opposition got suckered in as badly as we did. Our old friend Drakov is behind it all. He's using the congruent universe as a staging area to launch an attack on our timeline using beings created by genetic manipulation. We've just come from his base. We're going to have to go back and hit it before he has a chance to move his operation. Hit it hard."
Curtis was all business. "Sgt. Peck, Corporal Willis, take charge of the prisoner. Lt. Nelson, clock out to Galveston and get the strike force mobilized and back here on the double. Pick up your attack coordinates from Col. Steiger." He spoke into his communicator. "Condition Red," he said. "Repeat, Condition Red. We're going through. Unit will assemble at the picket lines on the double. Move it!"
"Look out!" Peck shouted.
As they had started to help Hunter to his feet, he had uncorked a haymaker into Willis' midsection and now he and Peck were rolling on the ground, struggling. Nelson aimed her plasma pistol at the pair.
"Hold it!" Curtis said. "You'll hit Peck."
Peck had rolled over on top and was trying to pin Hunter to the ground, but Hunter brought a knee up sharply and Peck grunted and went limp on top of him. A second later, Peck wasn't on top of Hunter anymore. Hunter had disappeared and Peck dropped about a foot to the ground onto the space where Hunter had lain.
"What the-" Nelson said. "He got Peck's warp disc!"
"Never mind," said Curtis. "It was set for HQ. He'll have a nice surprise when he clocks in. Get some battle gear for these people, move it! You're busted to corporal, Peck. Private Willis, on your feet! Fall in!"
The Rangers began to clock in at the picket line, ready for battle.
Moreau ran through the clean room of the laboratory, smashing racks of petri dishes and destroying the equipment. Tears ran down his cheeks as he obliterated his life's work, killing his creations before they ever had a chance at life. He knew that somewhere in here, hidden among the others, had to be the creature Drakov had created and he had to make certain to destroy that one above all others. Once that was done, he intended to kill Drakov, even if at the cost of his own life.
Nothing mattered anymore except the ending of it all. He had devoted years of painstaking research and experimentation, sacrificed everything to his work, suffered the derision of his colleagues and the insults of petty bureaucrats and government officials who referred to him at best as "the mad professor" and at worst as a monster without a conscience, "the modern Mengele." He had sought to improve the human condition, to broaden the capabilities of the race, and they had vilified him for immorality, accused him of playing God with human reproduction even while they backed his work and used his developmentally stunted creations as if they were android slaves. They had never given him a chance to allow his creations to develop to their full potential, partly out of fear and partly out of a self-serving justification-it was all right to treat them as sub-human so long as they were not fully developed.
The hominoids were never allowed a chance to stand on equal footing with humans and now they never would receive that chance. It was over. His life's work, wasted. "That will be enough, Moreau!"
Moreau turned to see Drakov standing at the entrance to the clean room, a laser pistol held in his hand.
"You're too late," said Moreau. His voice broke. "I've destroyed them all. I began with the gestation room and once I smashed all the artificial wombs, I finished the task here. There is nothing left. Nothing."
"You're wrong, Professor," Drakov said. "I told you before, I learned long ago not to put all of my eggs into one basket. Did you think this was my only laboratory? You have destroyed all of your own work. My own creations are being kept elsewhere. In fact, the one you were so concerned about has already been born. Even as we speak, it is in its time cycle of maturity. You are the one who is too late, Professor. When the Special Operations Group arrives, they will find three dead temporal agents and the corpse of one of their own people. Your body shall be here, as well. I imagine that Capt. Hunter will receive some sort of posthumous decoration for having single-handedly, at the cost of his own life, eliminated the threat to this timestream. You see, Professor, it all dovetails neatly. What you have done here will only lend credibility to the scene I will create."
"Only it doesn't dovetail quite so neatly, Nikolai," Moreau said. "You will not have any corpses with which to stage your scene because I have released the prisoners and they are long gone."
"You've done what?" said Drakov.
"They'll know now who was responsible for this," Moreau said, "and the only corpse they find here will be yours!"
He hurled a glass specimen jar at Drakov. Drakov jerked his head aside and fired as the jar smashed against the wall behind him, but his shot went wide and Moreau was on him in a flying leap. The laser flew out of Drakov's grasp and skittered across the floor, beneath one of the counters. They fell to the floor, Moreau on top, his fingers digging into Drakov's throat. Drakov dislodged him effortlessly, rolling him over and reversing their positions.
"You fool," said Drakov, pinning him down. "I have three times your strength!"
Moreau's hand clawed for Drakov's eyes. Drakov grabbed it, twisted Moreau's wrist, and broke it. Moreau cried out with pain. Drakov drew back his fist and smashed it into Moreau's face, once, twice, three times-and then the wall exploded.
The Rangers fanned out as they clocked in, circling round the palace complex from both sides and firing their weapons as they ran. The plasma blasts whumped against the walls, imploding them and bursting into washes of blue flame. A black garbed figure came diving out of one of the second-story windows as the palace erupted into flame. He hit the ground in a hard and awkward roll and came up running, favoring his side and holding his left shoulder as he ran.
"Benedetto!" Delaney shouted. "Come on, he's heading for the robot!"
"For the what?" yelled Curtis, but Delaney was already sprinting after Benedetto with Andre running behind him. Deciding that two of them were sufficient to catch one man, Curtis turned his attention back to the assault. They were only a handful, one small unit, and they had to hit hard and keep on hitting hard until the Temporal Counter-Insurgency battalion clocked in from Galveston and came through the confluence to reinforce them. With any luck, they'd already have the job done by the time the T.C. I, strike force came on the scene. They had to get in and get out fast. The last thing they needed was for S.O.G. units to show up.
As Curtis and his squad moved in, a howling mob of half-naked men came streaming out from the compound, bearing down on them. Curtis blinked several times. They seemed to have about six arms apiece.