When Hobbs came forward to the cockpit to check on her, she decided to extend a little trust. "Tell me about this Society we’re going to visit?"
The Padre settled into the navigator’s chair. "The Trevayne Society; do you want the full history going back to the wars of Napoleon or shall I keep it current?"
"That depends; is it a good story?"
Hobbs gave a rare smile. "That, like beauty, can only be judged by the beholder. Suffice it to say, the Trevayne Society is rather like the Secret Service, dedicated to the protection of the Crown."
"What would a bunch of bodyguards know about this Skull prophecy?"
"Ah, now that’s the part of the story that someone like myself would find interesting. You see, not all threats to the Crown are the product of revolutions and conspiracies, and usurpers.
“There is a dark and secret history of the world that the Church has rightly kept hidden from the eyes of ordinary folk because if it were known how close we once stood to descending into Hell, all social order would collapse. Of course, for nearly two thousand years, the Church has not only kept knowledge of the full extent of that evil concealed, but has also stood on the frontlines in the war against the powers of darkness."
Molly bit her lip. As much as she loved her father and loved God for that matter, she did not hold with the Church’s insistence on divine infallibility nor could she blithely excuse its bloody history of oppression, violent crusades or rabid witch hunts. Hobbs did not notice her pensive silence and continued with his story.
"As Christendom spread to the New World, new doors into Hell were opened and the subsequent Enlightenment encouraged some men to abandon the True God and look to other deities.
"Because the Royal House is the keeper of the Church of England, it fell to the royal protectors of the Trevayne Society to root out these cults of demon worshippers and to hunt down and destroy icons of evil power."
"I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk like this," Molly said at length.
Hobbs raised an eyebrow. "Well, I suppose the subject never really came up back on the Congo. However, one cannot believe in God and not accept that there are also devils. The Bible speaks plainly of these evil entities, so as a man of faith, why should I doubt?"
There was a long silence in which Molly sensed that her father wanted to say more, but she didn’t know how to prompt him. Finally, he spoke without her coaxing. "However, I also have some personal experience with the matter. I didn’t actually learn about the Trevayne Society through the Church. After the war, when Hurricane and the Cap and I were… doing things, we ran afoul of some… well, I guess there’s no other word for it; we fought some demons along with their human servants. As luck would have it, there were some of the Trevaynes hunting them as well and we struck a partnership of convenience. Naturally, I was curious about whom these fellows were and, as I was able, I pieced together the story of the Society and its dealings with otherworldly matters."
Molly looked through the windscreen out into the approaching band of blue. "Otherworldly," she murmured. "Are we really going to be fighting demons?"
"Hmmm. Perhaps. In my experience though, the men who desire to control supernatural power are much more to be feared."
Newcombe led Dodge through the laboratory to a section that appeared to have been left alone when the conversion from hangar to research facility took place. The floor was bare concrete and the sheet metal outer skin was visible through the skeleton of wood beams; no finishing carpentry had been done. The area appeared to be a general storage area and the stacked crates, pallets and other detritus formed a labyrinth through which the two men wandered until at last Newcombe pointed to what looked like an old truck with the wheels removed.
"Well, what do you think?"
Dodge looked again, but wasn’t sure what he was supposed to see. The scientist grinned conspiratorially, then climbed onto the strange chassis and stepped out of the exoskeleton he had been wearing. With the framework of rods removed, it resembled nothing so much as a tailor’s dummy or perhaps a childish imagining of a mechanical robot. Newcombe collapsed the device by folding its articulated joints, then placed the compact bundle into a chest mounted in the center of the strange vehicle. The last thing he did was to buckle the clasp of the exoskeleton, reactivating it. Dodge immediately felt the pressure of the force field spread out around the chassis and when Newcombe worked a lever beside the chest, the whole assemblage rose off the ground.
"Pretty keen, huh?" Newcombe was beaming. "This was actually one of the first applications we tried. It was a trick to come up with a lightweight metal frame to conduct the energy field, but since there are virtually no moving parts aside from the controls and since the force field actually helps sustain its structural integrity, we could get away with using hollow aluminum. These levers attach to the control mechanisms of the device so that the craft can move in any direction."
"This is ingenious." Dodge’s praise was not exaggerated. He pushed slowly through the invisible barrier and, once inside, climbed up into the vehicle. "What do you call it?"
"We called it the ‘Float Car’ when we were working on it. To tell you the truth, I had almost forgotten about it."
"It looks like you could transport about ten people. Why did you mothball it?"
Newcombe spread his hands. "The goal wasn’t to figure ways to adapt the one exoskeleton, but to figure out how to duplicate it. If we can ever get that right, well then, the age of winged aircraft will be at an end."
"Well, the Float Car is perfect for getting us to the Outpost."
Only now did Newcombe frown. "If you take the exoskeleton, my work here grinds to a halt."
Dodge looked up at the scientist. "Oh no, Doc. You’re coming with me."
Newcombe’s expression underwent a rapid transformation, spinning through a range of expressions from excitement to disbelief to denial and round again.
"You are coming," Dodge repeated. "You understand this technology better than anyone and I’m going to need every edge. Besides, this is your big chance to study it in its natural setting. You might be able to figure out how to turn the whole place back on."
The tall researcher brightened at this thought, but then his face fell. "I don’t think General Vaughn would authorize this."
Dodge grinned ruefully; he had no intention of asking General Vaughn for permission. Not only would the General, nominally in charge of the research project, certainly refuse such a request, but in all likelihood, upon learning of the break-in and theft of the Staff, he would place Dodge in custody "for his own protection" and demand that the military be given full access and immediate access to the Outpost. "Let me handle that," he said. "I’m sure it won’t be a problem."
Newcombe seemed to accept this. "Well, then when do we leave?"
"We’ll need to get outfitted first: warm clothes, food and water… I’ll take care of all that. In the meantime, you just keep working here as if nothing has changed. This has to be done with the utmost secrecy. Think you can handle that?"
Newcombe grinned like an eager child, but then affected a serious expression. "Cloak and dagger stuff, gotcha."
"Right. I’ll be back tonight to fetch you, say around seven o’clock. We’ll leave right from here, so be ready."
Dodge did not linger for a protracted good-bye. There was too much to accomplish and very little time in which to make it all happen. For his part, the scientist immediately returned to the main laboratory and sat down at a desk to start making plans. He had just begun enumerating the items he believed he would need in order to make a thorough onsite survey of the Outpost when someone entered the laboratory behind him. Newcombe hastily covered his notes with other pieces of paper and looked up guiltily. "Who are you?"