Argonaut Affair

11

"How do your priests deal with this dragon when they come to the grove?" asked Jason.

"They mix a potion into its food which puts it to sleep for a time," Medea said.

"Can we not also use this potion?" Jason asked.

"I fear not," said Medea. "Only the High Priest of Ares administers this potion and only he knows how to mix it. It is his sacred trust and I could not ask him for it without arousing his suspicion. You shall have to kill the dragon before we can get the golden fleece. You can do it, Jason. I know you can."

Jason sighed. "Yes, but does the dragon know?"

The well-worn narrow pathway took them down a rocky slope, through a dense thicket of birch trees. They had to proceed in single file until the trail widened and brought them to a large clearing. They entered the Sacred Grove by passing between two large boulders which had long ago fallen from the heights above. The rock-strewn clearing was roughly circular in shape and about thirty yards in diameter. A number of stone altars ringed its circumference, each with a small bowel-shaped sink carved into it. Each of these sinks held pitch and there were large urns on either side of each stone altar which held oil and incense. Near the entrance to the grove stood two braziers which were always kept burning.

In the center of the clearing stood a leviathan of a tree, ancient and gnarled, its thick branches spreading out all around it in twisted shapes. In the moonlight, they could discern the shape of something hanging from one of the thicker, lower branches, a dark mass that looked like heavy Spanish moss.

Medea lit a torch from one of the burning braziers and started to light the pitch bowels in the altars near them. As the crackling flames leaped up, the dark mass hanging from the lower tree limb reflected the firelight in a metallic, golden glow.

"The golden fleece," said Jason, softly. As Medea poured scented oil on the flames to make them burn more brightly, there was a rustling at the foot of the huge tree and what looked like a mound of earth started to move. The dark shape came at them quickly, moving with an ungainly, splayfooted motion that was deceptively fast. It charged them and stopped with an abrupt jerk about twenty feet away, making hissing and snapping noises. It resembled a small prehistoric reptile, a dinosaur from the Mesozoic era. It was thirty feet long from its head to the tip of its tail. They had scattered when it charged them, but they recovered when they saw that the creature could not come any closer. It strained at them, but a long heavy chain fastened to the tree held it back.

"It really is a dragon!" Andre said.

"It's a monitor lizard," said Steiger, staring at the creature. "Also known as a Komodo dragon. I've seen them before in Indochina, but not as big as this."

"Is it dangerous?" asked Andre.

"Oh, yes," Steiger said. "Komodo dragons are carnivorous. They'll eat wild pigs and deer. They could kill a man. This one is certainly large enough. I don't think it does too well in this climate, though. Probably makes it sluggish."

"It doesn't seem all that sluggish to me," said Delaney, apprehensively.

Jason stood with his back against the rock, his sword held out before him, his gaze riveted to the lizard as its long tongue lashed out repeatedly.

"Kill it!" yelled Medea, crouching behind one of the stone altars. "Kill it, Jason! Quickly!"

"There is no need for haste," said Jason. "The chain holds it fast. Does it breathe fire?"

"I have never seen it do so," said Medea, uncertainly.

Steiger nocked an arrow to his bow.

"That will serve no purpose," said Medea. "It cannot be killed in such a manner. Arrows cannot pierce its hide."

"Who told you that?" said Steiger. He pulled the bow back to his ear and let the arrow fly. It struck the lizard in the throat, penetrating deeply. The lizard thrashed, making hissing, rasping noises. He fired another arrow into its eye and the creature fell. It twitched several times and then lay still.

"But my father told us all that the dragon was impervious to arrows!" cried Medea.

Steiger shrugged. "Your father lied."

Medea flew into a rage. "Oh, how I hate him! I can draw a bow as well as any man! Had I but known it was so simple, I could have slain the beast myself!"

"Then you would have had the golden fleece and you would not have needed Jason," said Delaney. He grinned. "Too bad. Looks like you're stuck."

"You did nothing!" said Medea, turning on Jason. "You merely stood there while your friend dispatched the beast!"

"I took you at your word when you said that arrows would not pierce its flesh," Jason said. "I was thinking how to kill the creature when Creon put an arrow in its throat."

"You were afraid!" Medea said.

"I was not afraid!"

He carefully walked in a wide circle around the dragon and approached the tree. He stretched his arm out to pull down the fleece, but it would not budge. He grabbed it with both hands and pulled again. It moved a little, but still remained draped over the tree limb. With a curse, he put all his weight on it and the fleece abruptly came down. Jason fell and the golden fleece came down on top of him, pinning him to the ground. He struggled to get up, but could not move.

"Fabius! Creon! Help me!"

Delaney bent down over the fleece. "Jesus Christ," he said. "It weighs a ton!" He grunted and pulled it off Jason. "I'll be damned," he said, looking at the fleece. "It really is gold!"

"Yes, exquisite craftsmanship, wouldn't you say?"

Steiger spun around. "Who said that?" The voice had spoken in English and there was something about it that was unpleasantly familiar.

A tall figure in a long, hooded cloak came out from behind one of the stone altars on the far side of the clearing. A plasma pistol was held in his right hand. With his left hand, he reached up and pulled back the hood which concealed his face. His dark complected Slavic features were handsome, marred only by the long scar that ran from beneath his left eye, across his cheekbone and down to the corner of his mouth. A thick shock of curly black hair gave him a Byronic aspect and his bright green eyes stared at them mockingly. "Drakov!" said Andre.

"Who are you?" said Medea. "Where did you come from?"

"That need not concern you," Nikolai Drakov said to her in her own language.

"It concerns me!" said Jason, moving toward Drakov with his sword raised. Drakov fired a plasma charge at the ground in front of Jason. The white hot blast burst into blue flame on the rocks. Jason leaped back with a cry.

"Think twice before you raise your sword against a god, Jason of Iolchos," Drakov told him. "That was merely a warning. I have no wish to harm you, but if you attempt to interfere, the next ball of fire will not miss you." He looked at the agents, smiled and switched to English. "The same applies to the three of you, of course."

"I should have known," Delaney said. "I should have known we'd be running into you again."

"Yes, we do meet in the oddest places, don't we, Mr. Delaney?" Drakov said. "By the way, allow me to convey my belated condolences on the death of Lt. Col. Priest. He was a worthy adversary. A pity I was cheated of my chance to kill him. However, I see his place has been taken by my old friend Martingale. Or is it Sharif Khan? Tell me, am I allowed to know your real name or will you present me with yet another alias?"

"It's Steiger. Col. Creed Steiger." Drakov smiled. "All the time we've known each other and we're only now being properly introduced. It's fortunate I let you live when I had you at my mercy in the Khyber Pass. If I hadn't, I never would have known whom I had killed."

"A situation you're finally going to remedy, I suppose," said Steiger.

"What, kill you, you mean? Indeed, not. It would upset my plans somewhat if I were to kill you now. Besides, it wouldn't be very sporting with you three armed only with those primitive weapons and dressed in those silly skirts, although the costume looks most becoming on you, Miss Cross. No, your lives are safe enough," said Drakov. "At least for the time being."

"What's this all about, Nikolai?" said Steiger. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Conducting a rather interesting experiment," said Drakov, "of which you three have been an integral part. When I sent the centaur through the confluence, I had an idea you three would be the ones to come. Of course, it didn't have to be you, but I'm rather pleased it was. It's made it all a great deal more amusing."

"So it was a plot to draw us here right from the start," said Delaney. "But why? What do they hope to gain that could be worth the chances they're taking?"

"By 'they,' I assume you mean your counterparts in this timeline, the Special Operations Group," said Drakov. "The S.O.G. has not been entirely responsible for what you've seen. In fact, they will think you were responsible, which is not surprising as I have gone to a good deal of trouble to encourage them in this belief."

"Whose side are you on?" asked Delaney.

"My own, of course. Admittedly, I was forced into collaboration with the Special Operations Group when I first stumbled into this timeline, but I have managed to improve my situation considerably since then. I intend to finish what I started, in spite of your previous interference. Only now with two timelines vulnerable to disruption, the odds of creating multiple timestream splits have increased exponentially."

"Now everything falls into place," said Andre. "Small wonder nothing about this scenario made any sense. There was a lunatic behind it."

"You do me an injustice, Miss Cross. From my point of view, it makes a great deal of sense. I have succeeded in playing both ends against the middle and in doing so I have managed to develop my plan sufficiently to escalate it into its next stage. My creatures have performed rather well, wouldn't you say?"

"Your creatures?" asked Delaney incredulously. "Whoever made those androids had to be a genius. Somehow I don't think you qualify."

Drakov pretended to look hurt. "I'm sorry you have such a low opinion of me, Mr. Delaney. However, you are quite correct, in at least one sense. My creatures are indeed works of genius. I did not create them, I merely provided the necessary inspiration and the funds. In fact, you have already met the man responsible. You will recall the old blind king? He was neither very old nor was he blind. He was most anxious to see how his harpies would respond in a field situation. But you are wrong in thinking them androids. They are the products of rather unusual genetic engineering."

"I don't believe you," Steiger said. "Those women at Lemons were androids. I saw the series stampings on them."

"Prototypes, Mr. Steiger, or may I presume upon our previous relationship and call you Creed? I must say I like that name better than your others. It seems to fit you."

"Prototypes of what?" asked Steiger.

"An entirely new form of temporal weapon," Drakov said. "Their creator calls them hominoids. They are genetically tailored beings made from cloned human cells and gestated in artificial wombs, then surgically and cybernetically augmented at various stages of their natural development. We use time travel to allow them to mature to the various necessary stages, then bring them back at optimal growth periods so that we may progress to the next developmental stage. They are natural beings, yet I suppose you could also call them supernatural, in a sense. Cybernetic implants make them completely programmable.

"The Lemnos women were part of a very primitive, early run of prototypes created under the auspices of the Special Operations Group. It was their intention to create an army of totally expendable temporal soldiers, but they lacked imagination. They were content merely to create an unsophisticated sub-race of humans that would have been little more than cannon fodder. They were afraid to create what could become a competitive species. I, on the other hand, offered their creator a chance to let his imagination run wild and to test his talents to their limits. What scientist could resist such an opportunity? You have seen the results being tested in the field, partially by yourselves. The Lemnos women were only the first generation. The titans were the next, followed by the harpies and the centaur. Each new generation has proved more successful than the previous one. The next generation is even more impressive."

"And I suppose the Special Operations Group is merely going to stand by idle while you disrupt their temporal continuity with your hominoids," said Delaney.

"No, Mr. Delaney, I don't imagine they will. However, the Special Operations Group believes that your people are responsible. They believe that a small commando strike force carried off a successful assault on their Project Infiltrator laboratory complex and captured its director, along with a substantial number of Infiltrator prototypes and genetic culture samples. They think the Temporal Intelligence Agency is now in possession of Project Infiltrator. I imagine they will probably launch a massive preventive strike against your time-line before you can bring Infiltrator hominoids of your own on line in a significant strike against them. And there we have the beauty of this little situation I have engineered."

Drakov smiled. "My plan has threatened your timeline with a strategic temporal strike. The only way you can prevent this strike, or at best delay it, is by helping me complete my operation here. Because if you successfully complete your mission, you will have added your disruptive influence to mine to create a significant temporal adjustment problem in this time period. That will immediately occupy a large portion of the Special Operations Group's attention, thereby preventing them from launching their strike before you can prepare for it. So, in effect, I will be helping you in the short run. But in the long run, by helping me, you will assist me in staging disruptions in your own timeline." He chuckled. "And there is nothing you can do about it. You have absolutely no choice at all."

"He can't be right," said Andre, glancing at the others.

Delaney clenched his teeth and swore softly. "I'm afraid he is. We can't exactly go to the opposition and tell them that we weren't responsible for heisting their Infiltrator Project. In the first place, they wouldn't believe us. And in the second place, even if they did, they couldn't afford to let us go. We'd be too valuable to their interrogation teams."

"We lose out either way," Steiger said. "If we abort the mission, we leave ourselves open to the opposition. If we complete the mission, we'll be helping Drakov."

"I see you grasp the situation," said Drakov. "Consider it a payback for your sanction of the Nautilus. And this time it's my turn to tell you that it's over. You have no options left."

"All right, Drakov," said Delaney. "For the moment, let's assume we let you call the shots. What do you want?"

"That somewhat weighty golden rug at your feet is the key to this entire scenario," said Drakov. "It is not the original golden fleece, but for all practical purposes, that makes no difference. The original fleece came from one of my creatures." He grinned. "Yes, there really was a flying ram and it was I who gave it to Nephele, who was no more a cloud nymph that I am a god. Aietes had the creature killed and skinned. It was the fleece of that creature, a sort of yellow-gold in color, which he first hung in this very grove. However, it soon began to rot, so he had this one made of real gold-thin gold wires fastened to several heavy layers of horsehide. The head is the actual skull of the original ram, covered with a thin coat of hammered gold. I imagine it would be almost priceless in the 27th century, even discounting its historical value.

"If Jason succeeds in bringing it back with him, it will result in the downfall of King Pelias," Drakov continued. "However, two things stand in his way. One is that Pelias has placed a spy among the Argonauts. Regrettably, I have not been able to learn who that spy is. My creatures were programmed not to kill certain key individuals in this scenario, but there is a chance that one of those they did kill was the spy. Unfortunately, there is no way to know for certain. The only one who knew the spy's identity was the High Priest of Iolchos and he died without revealing it. It seems I underestimated my ability to frighten him. The thought of being chastised by a god gave the poor man a heart attack. The second obstacle to Jason bringing back the golden fleece is you, which was why I chose this moment to enlighten you.

"You see," Drakov continued, "there never was an historical voyage of Jason and the Argonauts in this timeline. I made it all happen. The real Jason died along with his father, Aeson, murdered by cutthroats in the employ of Pelias, who now believes that his assassins bungled the job with the boy."

"The real Jason?" Delaney said, looking at Jason, who stood alongside Idmon and Medea, watching them with a bewildered expression on his face as they conversed in English.

"Yes, Mr. Delaney. It was necessary to create several hominoids to complete the mythical cast of this fascinating voyage. Jason is one, Hercules is the other. Neither of them realizes what he is of course. They were created in a laboratory and clocked back to this time period as children to be given into Chiron's care. And the centaur had precise instructions as to how to raise them. In that sense, the experiment has been wonderfully successful. We can create hominoids, place them in a temporal scenario, and have their development supervised by other hominoids, even in the midst of humans. All I need do is check on them from time to time, if you will pardon the pun. The others are all genuine, historical figures who would have followed slightly different paths had I not interfered. Theseus, for example, would never have made the voyage, but would have remained in Athens. Meleager would have found other challenges elsewhere. Argus would have built other vessels. I merely created a detour in their lives."

"So the voyage itself is the disruption," said Delaney. "If we had sabotaged the quest, we would have sabotaged our own mission."

"Which he suckered us into," Steiger added.

"On the other hand," said Drakov, "if you help Jason fulfill his quest, you will not only succeed in dethroning Pelias and altering the history of this timeline, you will contribute to the fame of all the others, many of whom will go on to become significant historical figures in this time period. Hercules is already an excellent example. Reversing the effects of this voyage will be a monumental task for the Special Operations Group, if they can accomplish it. And chances are excellent that they have already begun. I have taken great pains to keep this operation secret, but due to the extent of it, it is doubtful that it has escaped the attention of their temporal observers. They will realize, of course, that Hercules never actually existed in this timeline, but they won't be able to attack the ship without endangering Theseus and the others, whose deaths could be significantly disruptive. And, needless to say, they will wish to capture you alive, if possible. I'll be interested to see how they will try it."

"So that's what you needed us for," said Andre, "to help your Jason hominoid complete the quest and make sure the Special Operations Group doesn't interfere with it."

"Precisely," Drakov said. "Isn't it amusing, Miss Cross? For once, we have a common goal. And your presence in this scenario diverts attention from me. Who knows, perhaps there is a way I can arrange for the Special Operations Group to help me do the same in your timeline. I feel rather like the hunter who has happened upon two stags battling for supremacy. While they are busy ramming at each other, the hunter bags two kills."

Simon Hawke

Argonaut Affair

He touched the warp disc on his wrist and suddenly he wasn't there anymore.

"A god!" said Jason, in a low and reverent voice. "I have seen and spoken with a god!"

"What tongue was that you spoke?" Medea asked. "And which god was it? What did he say to you?" She swallowed hard and dropped her voice. "Have we incurred their vengeance? Am I to be punished for what I have done?"

Delaney improvised. "The god spoke to us in the language of our people. And he did not give his name. He spoke to us because you angered him, Jason, but he wishes you well upon your quest. Yet the gods are divided in their desires. Some of them wish for us to succeed and return to Iolchos with the golden fleece. Others wish for us to fail. In pleasing some, we shall anger others and there is nothing to be done."

"That is because gods are capricious," Jason said. "Chiron taught me so. The only way to please all the gods together is to prevail over whatever obstacles they may set before us, so that they will deem us worthy."

"It may not be wise to defy the gods," said Medea. "Some are more powerful than others."

"And what of my throne?" said Jason.

"One throne is as good as any other," said Medea. "You have a force of warriors behind you. We could seize some other kingdom, maybe just a small one in the beginning until we can increase our army, or perhaps we could join with my sister and march upon my father. Then we could seize the throne of Aea and-"

"No!" said Jason. "I am not some freebooter who takes that which is not his by right. I want only what is mine! Pelias will surrender the throne of Iolchos to me or I shall have his life. That is what I have sworn and that is what I shall do! I will hear no more talk of seizing kingdoms. I have told you what I shall do. Now it is for you to decide. I will go to Iolchos with the fleece. You may come and share my fate or you can stay and face your father and Kovalos. Make your choice now, but do not come to me later with regrets."

"I will go with you," Medea said softly, "if you will have me."

"Done," said Jason. "We have wasted enough time. It will be dawn soon. We must hurry to join the others."

"The boy learns slowly," Idmon said, "but he does learn. Who knows, perhaps he may yet slay this second dragon. Yet I fear that we are not yet done with gods."

"What do you mean?" Delaney asked.

The soothsayer sighed. "We still have a long journey home to make and much can happen in that time." He nodded. "Yes, much can happen, and I have a strong feeling that much will."