Lilliput Legion

Chapter 6,

"There's nothing there," said Steiger, bending over the charts and studying them closely.

"Or. Gulliver, are you sure that was the correct position?" said Delaney, glancing over his shoulder at Gulliver, who stood behind them, looking down at the charts spread out on the table.

"I'm absolutely certain of it," Gulliver said. "I've sailed as a ship's surgeon long enough to know my navigation, gentlemen. I took a reading with my sextant on the day of my escape. Longitude 110 degrees, 4 minutes east; latitude 30 degrees, 2 minutes south. "

"That would put it approximately 200 miles to the north-west of Perth, Australia," said Steiger… And there's nothing there."

"Quite so," said Gulliver. "I have already told you that the island does not appear on any charts. "

"If that was the case only with the charts available in this time period, " said Steiger, tossing aside the charts that Gulliver had obtained for them, "then that would be understandable. However, ~ he tapped the modem maps spread out before him on the table, "it doesn't appear on any of our charts, either, and that's impossible. You must have made a mistake in calculating the position.".

"I don't mean to argue with you, Colonel," Gulliver replied, "but had that been the case, then I would certainly have noticed it when I escaped, for I would have found myself off course. However, the course I had plotted turned out to be correct, which meant that my original reading had to be correct, as well.

Lilliput Island lies exactly there." He stabbed his forefinger down at the map on a spot that showed nothing but open sea.

Steiger glanced up at Delaney and shook his head. "There's nothing there, Finn."

"Well, there's only one way to find out for sure," Delaney said.

"Wait a minute," Andre said, grabbing his ann. "You're not seriously suggesting clocking out there blind? What if Gulliver’s wrong?”

"We'll wind up very wet," said Steiger. "And those are shark-infested waters."

"Look, I may be a little reckless sometimes," said Delaney, "but I'm not crazy. I'm suggesting that a couple of us clock ahead to base and pick up some floater paks so we can do an air reconnaissance. We can fly a search pattern within a fifty mile radius of Gulliver's co-ordinates, or a hundred mile radius if that's what it takes, — but we're obviously not going to get anywhere sitting around here and arguing about what is or isn't on the map. We're simply going to have 10 go out there and look."

Gulliver cleared his throat. "Excuse me, Captain. "Yes?"

"Did… did I hear correctly? Did you just say that you were going to… to fly?"

"Don't worry, Lem," Delaney said, "no one's going to make you fly. Besides, it takes a bit of training to learn how to use a floater pak. You'll be staying here with Andre and Lucas while Creed and I clock out and fly our search pattern. And if we find your island, we'll come back for the rest of you and see if there are any little people on it."

"Six-inch commandos," Lucas said, shaking his head. “Incredible. If I didn't know better, I'd say we'd run into a bizarre new generation of Drakov's hominoids."

"You know General Drakov?" Gulliver said.

They all spun around and stared at him with amazement. "What did you say?" said Andre.

"General Nikolai Drakov," Gulliver said. "He is the leader of The Lilliput Legion."

"But that's impossible!" Delaney said. "Drakov is dead!"

"Yes, that's right," said Andre, slowly. "And so was Lucas."

Nikolai Drakov stood in Central Park with his hands in the pockets of his elegant, dark wool velour topcoat. A cool autumn breeze ruffled his thick, wavy black hair as he watched a young mother and her small boy from a distance as they fed the ducks with bread crumbs. The dark-haired boy bore a startling resemblance to

Drakov. In fact, he was Nikolai Drakov, or more precisely, a clone being raised under controlled conditions and carefully monitored from time to time by his creator/father.

This was the end result of Drakov's experiments with the hominoids, a subspecies of genetically engineered, human-based lifeforms that were first created under the auspices of Project Infiltrator, headed by Dr. Moreau and funded by the Special

Operations Group. Drakov had deceived the S.O.G. and spirited Moreau away from the parallel universe with promises of generous funding and unrestricted research, the opportunity of developing his hominoids to their fullest potential.

Instead, Drakov had taken control and carefully observed Moreau, studying the process until he had mastered it, and then he took the hominoids in directions

Moreau had never dreamed of. Now, this was the crowning touch, the piece de resistance. He had replicated himself.

The young boy he was watching along with his "mother," an earlier generation hominoid, had been part of the first run, a dozen versions of himself born out of petri dishes and artificial wombs, then clocked back to various periods in the past, each to be raised in different environments, but under highly controlled conditions with predetermined key stages of development, the first occurring when they received their cerebral implants in early childhood, enabling them to be programmed at specific points throughout their lives, and the last when they received the scars that matched his own, a diagonal knife slash that ran from beneath his left eye to just above the corner of his mouth.

The first of these secondary versions of himself had already been subjected to this process that Drakov called "time lapse maturation" and had been killed in an encounter with the temporal agents. They now believed him to be dead. Drakov smiled as he anticipated their rude awakening.

He turned and started walking back toward Fifth Avenue. Gulliver's escape had been a minor setback, but it didn't really matter. The temporal agents were alerted to the threat now, but it was far too late. Even as they prepared to seek the secret island base of The Lilliput Legion, the Lilliputians would find them. And this time. his little soldiers would know what to expect.

"Wake up! Cmon, wake up!"

Hunter felt his face being slapped. His head rocked back and forth with the blows as if it were somehow a thing apart from himself and he tried to ignore it all, to retreat back into the warm, thick mist of unconsciousness, but they weren't having any of it.

"Come on, wake up, dammit!"

Whack.!

"He's still out of it."

"The hell he is, he's playing possum. only I ain't buyin' it.

Wake up, you bum!"

Whack.!

An involuntary groan escaped him.

"Ah. there we go! Come on. baby, you can make it! Wakee, wakee!"

WHACK.!

"Stop…" Hunter mumbled, his voice thick and slurred. He felt someone take hold of his chin and stcady his head. "Open your eyes."

His eyes blinked open.

He was tied to a straight-backed wooden chair. Thcre was a blurred face close in front of him and several people standing in the background. He tried to focus in. It came slowly. The blurry images gradually resolved themselves into a sharp. featured, hatchet-like face surmounted by thick, elaborately styled black hair and a custom-tailored, dark silk suit filled out well with muscle. The tie was incongruous. Bright canary yellow. Silk. The breath smelled of cigarette smoke.

Cigarettes.

Right. The cigarettes.

Behind the hatchet-faced, tough guy in the expensive, raw silk suit was another man cut from the same cloth, a smoothly styled sharpie in a mauve suit with a purple silk shirt and a purple tie the same shade as the shirt. And beside him stood the lovely, treacherous Krista, staring down at him as though he were some interesting new bug she hadn't seen before.

“Who are you? asked the hatchet-faced man.

"George Palmer," Hunter mumbled, giving the name that he'd been using.

Whack!

"Wrong. Try again."

“My name is George palmer. I don’t-"

WHACK!

The force of the blow split his lip and he felt blood trickle down his chin.

"Look, my friend," hatchet-face said softly, bringing his face up close to Hunter's,

"we know who you're not, okay? What we'd like to know is who you are. And where you got this pretty bracelet."

Huntcr's gaze was riveted on the warp disc being dangled before him.

"I don't understand," said Hunter. "Why are you doing this? If you want money-"

WHACK!

"Okay, now listen to me, all right? That was the last time with the open hand. I'm getting impatient. Next one’s a closed fist. And if losing a few teeth doesn't loosen you up…"

Snik. The six-inch blade sprang out of the handle.

"That will do, Vincent. Take Krista and go make some coffee in the kitchen. I'll call you if I need you."

Hatchet-faced Vincent gave Hunter a long look and then left the room with Krista.

Domenico Manelli came around from somewhere behind Hunter to stand in front of him, looking like an investment banker in his tailored pin stripes and rep tie. So far as Hunter could tell, there were only three of them in the room now-himself, Manelli, and the smoothie in the mauve suit.

Manelli loosened his tie and took out a pack of cigarettes. He shook one out and offered it to Hunter. "Cigarette? These aren't drugged, by the' way." While Hunter watched, he took

one himself, lit up and inhaled deeply. "I have no need of playing tricks," he said.

He shrugged. "Now that you're tied to that chair, I could shoot you up to my heart's content. A little Pentothol to make you talk, some uncut heroin to make you stop.. or I could call Vincent back in for some of your more basic persuasion. I'd really rather not, though. You strike me as a reasonable man. I think we could discuss things like intelligent human beings."

He shook out another cigarette and offered it to Hunter. Hunter nodded and

Manelli held the pack out so that Hunter could take the protruding cigarette between his lips. Manelli lit it for him with his gold lighter. The man in the mauve suit hadn't said a word. He hadn't even moved. He simply watched Hunter expressionlessly. Hunter decided that this man worried him even more than

Vincent.

“The reason I sent the others out of the room is because they don't know what this is," said Manelli, holding up the warp disc, dangling the bracelet in front of him as Vincent had. “However, I do. And so does the gentleman behind me. In fact he has one just like yours. Now isn't that an interesting coincidence?"

Suddenly, it was a brand new ball game. Hunter stared hard. the man in the mauve suit, but his face gave nothing away.

"I see we have your full attention," said Manelli, with a smile.

"All right, what do you want?" said Hunter. "Let's start with your name."

"Hunter. Reese Hunter."

It was pointless to lie. If they did administer drugs, he'd tell them the truth anyway. The thing was to convince them that he..as already telling them the truth and at the same time withhold some of it.

Manelli smiled. "There, you see? I knew we could discuss things in a reasonable manner. And how about your rank, Mr Hunter?”

"Captain."

Manelli looked impressed. "A captain, no less. And your unit?"

Hunter hesitated, his mind racing. Should he risk a bluff?

'They could easily find out, but how much time would it buy him?

Fortunately, Manelli misinterpreted his hesitation.

"Ah, I think I understand," he said. "You're a deserter, aren't you?"

Hunter chose not to reply, implying assent by his silence.

"Yes, I do believe you are," Manelli said, with a smile.

"That would explain your rather interesting and somewhat reckless behaviour.

Actually, you've proven to be quite resourceful, Capt. Hunter. Your one mistake was that you moved too quickly. You got greedy."

"Am I under arrest?" said Hunter.

Manelli raised his eyebrows. "Why, Capt. Hunter, do I look like a policeman?"

Hunter frowned. "I don't understand. You're not.

And then it came to him. "You're the Underground?"

Manelli smiled. "No. Not exactly." He reached out and removed the cigarette butt from between Hunter's lips before he burned himself. "We'll be back soon, Capt.

Hunter," he said, "Regrettably, we're going to have to leave you tied up for the moment. I'll instruct Krista and Vincent to see to your comfort as much as possible under the circumstances. If you've been completely honest with us, you have nothing to be concerned about. In fact, we might even have a proposition for you.

But if you have not been completely honest with us, then it won't be your comfort that Vincent will be seeing to.",

"He was a gentleman. A very large man, built like a bull," said Gulliver, "with black hair and the most disquieting eyes I'd ever seen. A bright, emerald green, they were. At times, they almost seemed to glow. He was quite-a handsome figure of a man, except for the disfiguring scar upon his face, from here to here." Gulliver ran his forefinger along his cheek, from beneath his left eye to the corner of his mouth. "A wound made with a sabre, I should think, or perhaps a knife."

Simon Hawke

Lilliput Legion

"That's a perfect description of Drakov, all right, “ said Lucas.

They sat at the table in the house on Threadneedle Street, sharing a light meal of bread, smoked sausage and cheese along with a bottle of red wine. Finn poured himself another glass and shook his head.

"I can't understand it," he said. "Forrester shot Drakov. I was there. I saw it."

"I saw Lucas get shot, too," said Andre.

"What are you saying?" said Steiger. sarcastically. "That Drakov had a twin in the parallel universe too, and that Dr. Darkness switched the two of them, as well?"

"I wouldn't put it past him," Lucas said, "but maybe what we're facing here is a result of what Darkness did with me. If there was some sort of temporal disruption that came about from his changing my past, maybe it resulted in Drakov's past being changed, as well."

"I can't see how," said Finn. "As you said, Lucas, nothing was changed by Darkness altering your past. Nothing, that is, except that you survived. I don't mean to downplay that, obviously, but the circumstances were unique. Your being alive instead of dead hasn't altered any of the events that took place since your death."

"Excuse me…" said Gulliver. "Uh, Finn, would you mind-".

"Don't ask me to repeat it, Lem," said Delaney, wryly. "I'm not even sure I understand what I just said. The point is, either Darkness was right and the uniqueness of this situation hasn't resulted in any disruption at all or you're the disruption yourself, Lucas. Or all of us are."

"I'm very confused," said Gulliver.

"Brother, you're not alone," said Lucas.

"Either way, we're not going to solve anything by sitting around here," Steiger said.

"Lucas, you sure you don't want to-"

"No, I don't think so," Lucas said. "It would only cause one hell of a commotion if I went back with you now and I'd never get away from them. They'd want to debrief me, put me in for observation.." He shook his head. "No, I could do more good here. "

"Right," said Delaney. They got up from the table. "We'll clock back and pick up a couple of floater paks. And while we're at it, “ he said to Luc as, "we'll report your miraculous survival. Or rather, your non death. Or rebirth or whatever. Hell, we'll just report you as being alive and let them work it out."

"Uh… on second thought, Finn, maybe you shouldn't mention me just yet, "said Lucas.

Delaney frowned. "Why not?"

“Partly because it would cause one hell of a commotion," Lucas said, "and I still don't fully understand what's happened to me. Nor can I predict how Dr. Darkness will react when he finds out that the one working prototype of his greatest invention has walked out on him. And I can think of one more reason. With this Network situation that you've described to me, it couldn't hurt to have an ace up your sleeve that no One knows about. "

"Good point, "said Steiger, nodding. "All right, then, we'll leave you officially dead for the time being. But we should let the old man know."

"I agree," Delaney said.

"All right," said Lucas. "You can tell Forrester, but no one else. Oh, and one more thing. Don't mention anything to him about Nikolai Drakov. At least not until we know for sure."

"I'll go along with that," said Steiger. "We'll leave directly from base to check out Gulliver's co-ordinates. If there's an island out there, we'll come right back here and pick up the rest of you. Meanwhile, sit tight." He checked his disc. "We'll be clocking back here in about two minutes, your time." He glanced at Gulliver. "That means don't move around the room much till we get back, Lem. I'd hate to materialise in the same spot where you were standing."

"Goodness. What would happen if you did?" asked

Gulliver.

"Believe me, you wouldn't want to know," said Steiger.

The two men went over to the far side of the room, locked in the transition co ordinates on their warp discs and clocked out. Gulliver stared at the spot where they had stood a second ago and shook his head with amazement.

"It truly is astonishing what one can become accustomed to," he said. "I've just seen two people vanish into thin air and here I sit, calm as you please, eating bread and cheese and drinking wine."

"You've certainly had your share of interesting experiences," Andre said. "All things considered, you're bearing up extremely well."

"What else is one to do?" Gulliver replied… A man can't go jumping out of his skin every time something-Great merciful Heavens!"

He leaped out of his chair, sending it crashing to the floor and spilling wine all over the table as Dr. Darkness suddenly appeared sitting in the chair next to him, one leg casually crossed over the other.

"The Japanese have an old saying," Darkness said, playing with — his walking stick.

"When one saves another's life, that person becomes responsible for the life he saved." He grunted. "The Japanese can be a very irritating people." He glanced at Gulliver, standing back away from the table and staring at him open mouthed.

"What are you goggling at?"

"I… that is, I… I… ai-yi-yi," said Gulliver, holding his head with both hands.

"Articulate chap, isn't he?" said Darkness.

"Now listen, Doc," Lucas began, but Darkness interrupted him.

"No, you listen," he said. "Did you think that I went to all that trouble simply so that you could comeback here and continue playing soldier, perhaps get yourself killed again? Is that what comes of all my efforts on your behalf?"

"'Doc, I didn't ask you to make any efforts on my behalf! I never asked you to do anything!"

"Indeed? And where would you be right now if I hadn't done anything?"

"Well, dead, presumably, but-"

"Presumably?" said Darkness, arching his eyebrows.

“Nothing presumable about it. You would have been stiff as a carp." He grunted. “I saved your blasted life for you and what do I get in return? You simply walk out on me, without so much as a by your leave. Would it have been too much trouble to leave a note, at least? 'Dear Dr. Darkness, thank you for saving my life. I am off to make an asshole of myself and perhaps get killed again. Yours in perpetual confusion, Lucas Priest.' It would have taken less than a minute to dash that off.

You couldn't be bothered?"

"Doc, you're starting to sound like my mother," Lucas said.

"I am your mother, for God's sake! I am both your mother and your father.

I gave you life! Life and an opportunity such as no man has ever had before-"

"'Doc, I didn't want it!"

"Well, who asked you?"

"'Nobody did, that's just the point!"

"Wait a minute," Andre said. She turned to Lucas. "'What do you mean, you didn't want it? You'd rather be dead?"

"You stay out of this!"

"I'd listen to her if I were you," said Darkness.

"Well, you're not me!" Lucas shouted. "What am I supposed to do, spend the rest of my life like some kind of laboratory animal on that cockamamie desert planet of yours, waiting around for you to perfect your telempathic terminal or whatever the hell it is before you discorporate?"

"I should think that most people would have found it a small enough price to pay for being brought back from the dead," said Darkness.

"And what happens if you don't perfect it?"

"Don't be absurd. It's already been perfected. It simply requires some fine tuning, a certain amount of training and adaptation on the part of the subject.

Granted, it isn't exactly user friendly, but-"

"User friendly? Are you out of your tree? This damn thing is a time bomb ticking away inside me and I'm stuck with it for rest of my unnatural life, thanks to you!

Did it ever occur to you that I might actually resent being your guinea pig?" He threw his hands up and rolled his eyes. "God, why am I even bothering trying to explain anything to you? You act as if I had to ask your permission to come back to Earth!"

"You certainly should have," Darkness said. "You're a fool, Priest. An astonishingly lucky fool, but a fool nevertheless. It's one thing. to lose your concentration and accidentally translocate to Earth during an idle lapse or while you're dreaming, because in that event, the chronocircuitry computes the co-ordinates from your subconscious and its own inherent database, but to consciously attempt to program a translocation of such magnitude when you're not even certain of the distance was foolhardy in the extreme! Suppose you had mentally tried to program specific transit co-ordinates and overridden the telempathic database function?"

"Well, actually I thought of that, but you said that the telempathic chronocircuitry had a built-in, automatic trip computer or whatever and-"

"My God!" said Darkness. "And so you blithely flung yourself across two million light years when the furthest you'd ever consciously translocated before was across the room?"

Lucas merely gaped at him.

"Two million light years?" Andre said, in a voice barely above a whisper.

"What… what, pray tell, is a light year?" Gulliver asked, hesitantly.

"A unit of distance, determined by the velocity of the speed of light in a vacuum, which is approximately 186,000 miles per second, measured in miles per hour and multiplied by the number of hours in a year, which yields the distance that light travels in one year, which is approximately six trillion miles," Darkness said, — impatiently. "'I thought everyone knew that."

Gulliver tried-and failed-to comprehend the explanation he'd been given. He gave up and took a small flask from his pocket, unstoppered it and slugged down some whiskey in the hope that it would settle his nerves, so that the stranger who had just appeared would stop fading in and out like some ghostly apparition.

Only instead of Darkness becoming more substantial, Lucas disappeared.

"Lucas!" Andre cried.

"Oh, hell," said Darkness, irritably. "His bloody concentration slipped again. "

"Where did he go?" said Andre, alarmed.

"I haven't the foggiest," said Darkness. "Who knows what he was thinking?" He sighed. "Now I'll have to track him through the symbiotracer. With any luck, I'll find him before he panics and thinks himself into a jam. Science would be ever so much more rewarding if one didn't have to deal with people!"

And he vanished.

Gulliver tossed the flask over his shoulder and put his head down on the table. "I give up," he said. "Wake me when this dream is over."

As the uniformed courier stepped out of the lift tube and approached the security station, the two armed guards posted at the lift tube entrance fell in on either side of him. He glanced at them briefly, but didn't pause. He was carrying a briefcase that was fastened to his wrist by a chain. He set the case down on the desk in front of the sergeant of the guard and reached into his inside jacket pocket for his ID

"Lt. Stroud, Council of Nations attache,” he said. "I have priority classified dispatches for General Forrester."

The sergeant of the guard carefully examined the credentials. "I have nothing on my log concerning dispatches from the Council of Nations, sir."

"They're priority dispatches, Sergeant," said Lt. Stroud.

"This isn't a regular delivery. It wouldn't appear on your log."

The sergeant of the guard maintained direct eye contact with the courier. "I see. Would you open the case, please, sir?'

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Sergeant. Orders."

"I'm sorry, sir, but I have my orders, as well. And I do possess an A-6 level clearance."

"'That doesn't help me, Sergeant. I have specific instructions to open this case only in General Forester’s presence."

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist, sir, “ said the sergeant of the guard. "That case isn't going anywhere until I've seen what's inside it."

Stroud's eyes widened. "Are you serious? Do you realise what you're doing, Sergeant'!"

"I'm following orders, sir," the sergeant said, resting his hand on the butt of his weapon. "'Open the case, please."

Stroud shook his head with resignation and reached into his pocket. The sergeant of the guard's gun leaped out if its holster. The men on either side of the courier instantly grabbed his arms.

"Easy, easy!" said Stroud. "Jesus, what is it with you people? I was only getting the key for this bracelet."

The sergeant of the guard nodded and the men released him. He kept the courier covered with his gun. "Just bring it out slowly, sir, if you don't mind," he said, his voice even and polite.

Moving carefully and deliberately, Lt. Stroud removed the key from his pocket and showed it to the sergeant of the guard.

"Take the bracelet off him," The sergeant of the guard said. One of the men took the key away from him and unlocked the courier's bracelet, removing it from his wrist.

"I've heard of tight security, but you guys are really something," said Stroud.

"What the hell do you think I've got in here, a bomb?"

"We'll find out as soon as we scan it, sir, “ said the sergeant of the guard, reaching down and bringing out a portable scanner gun with a built-in screen. It hummed faintly when he turned it on. "All right, let's see what's in here. If these- are nothing but dispatches, sir, you'll have my sincere apologies and-what the hell"

The lid of the briefcase suddenly sprang open and a filament-thin beam of bright, coherent light lanced up out of the case. The sergeant of the guard screamed and recoiled, clapping his hand to his right eye, which the tiny laser had melted right out of its socket.

Stroud elbowed the guard on his right in the solar plexus, then back fisted the other one in the face. breaking his nose. He brought his right hand down in a sharp, chopping motion and the blow broke the neck of the first guard. then he hit. the second guard again with a strike to the throat. collapsing his trachea. The sergeant of the guard hit the alarm button on the console as more laser fire hit him and he sagged down to the floor. As the alarm klaxon sounded, tiny, black-garbed commandos started rising rapidly up out of the case, carried aloft on miniature floater paks. -

"Go! Go!" shouted Stroud, running around the counter and stabbing at the console, trying to find the switch to cut off the alarm.

In his office suite, across the hall from his private quarters, Forrester heard the alarm and glanced at the security monitor mounted in the comer, just below the ceiling. What he saw was a platoon of armed Lilliput commandos wearing floater paks, hurtling down the corridor. A bright ball of blue-white fire from a miniature autopulser flew at the lens. The image on the monitor broke up and the screen went blank.

"Jesus Christ!" said Forrester. yanking open his desk drawer and pulling out an antique, ivory-stocked; Colt Python. 357 Magnum with a six-inch, vent-ribbed barrel. As he bolted toward the door, he heard screams and autopulser fire coming from the front office.

He stuck his head out the door and almost ran right into a wire-thin laser beam. He brought up his gun and the Colt Python roared and bucked, sending a copper-jacketed, hollow-point. 357 magnum round slamming into the oncoming Lilliput commando, obliterating his entire upper torso and penetrating the miniature floater pak, which exploded in a tiny fireball.

Another laser beam singed Forester’s earlobe and one autopulser blast narrowly missed his head as he fired twice more, two handed, then hit the floor and rolled as two little exploding fireballs passed over his head. He came up on one knee and fired again, then cried out with pain as he took a direct hit on his kneecap. The Lilliput commandos had disposed of the security detail and were now swooping down on him like angry hornets. He fired his last two rounds, missing with one and taking out another miniature assassin with the last, then he threw the gun as one of the Lilliput commandos came diving down at him, firing his laser. He felt the heat as the beam grazed his check and then the Lilliputian went pinwheeling out of control as the thrown gun struck him a glancing blow. He struck the wall and the tiny floater pak exploded. Forrester dove through the doorway into his private quarters and slammed the door shut, locking it behind him.

Steiger and Delaney were in the lift tube, on their way up, when the alarm klaxon sounded. A second before the tube delivered them to the penthouse floor, the klaxon was silenced. Both men had their guns out. As they came diving out of the lift tube, they heard the unmistakable sound of Forrester touching off one of his antique firearms and it was the sound of the big magnum cutting loose that saved their lives. Stroud involuntarily glanced in the direction of the sound at the moment that the lift tube doors opened and the quick, diving exit of the two temporal agents caught him by surprise. Instinctively, he fired through the open lift tube doors, but Steiger and Delaney weren't there anymore and Stroud screamed as he was engulfed by two plasma bursts.

It took the Lilliput commandos scant seconds to blast their way through Forrester’s door, but by that time he had already reached his den, where he kept martial mementoes of the past, souvenirs brought back-or rather, brought ahead-by the men and women of the First Division. When the Lilliputians broke through the door and came flying through into Forester’s private quarters, they found him standing at the entrance to his den, armed with an M-16. As they came flying in and started to fan out, Forrester fired several quick bursts of the. 223 high velocity rounds, knocking several tiny invaders out of the air by pure chance, but it was impossible to achieve any kind of accuracy with a fully automatic weapon against such tiny targets moving with such speed.

Steiger and Delaney were racing down the corridor when they heard the M-16 light off. Several quick, sharp bursts were fired, and then the weapon suddenly fell silent. Fearing the worst, they came rushing through the entrance to Forrester’s quarters, heedless of their own safety, and Steiger recoiled with a cry of "Shit!" as a Lilliputian strapped into a tiny floater pak went screaming past him backwards in a line drive, trailing a spray of blood, to strike hard against the wall and explode with a sharp whuumpf as his fuel tanks went up.

Forrester stood in the centre of the room, holding the M-16 like. a baseball bat and swatting at the Lilliputians as they buzzed around him like wasps around a nest, the criss-crossing beams of their tiny lasers creating a fine latticework of coherent light around him, making it appear as if he were trapped inside some glowing spider's web.

"Moses, get down!"' Delaney shouted.

Instantly, Forrester dropped to the floor and Delaney fired his gun. The full intensity plasma charge streaked across the room, incinerating the Lilliputians in its path, slamming into the floor to ceiling window on the far side of the room and melting right through it. Steiger made a running dive and landed right on top of Forrester, covering him with his body, but the remaining Lilliputians were in full retreat, swooping out the ruined window with their jets on full power and dispersing in the night like fireflies. Delaney ran over to the gaping hole, but he held his fire. There were people down there and he didn't want to risk hitting any innocent bystanders:"

As he turned around, a squad of soldiers came running in, armed with laser rifles and autopulsers, all of which were suddenly pointed in his direction.

"'Freeze! Drop the gun! Drop it right now!"

Delaney rolled his eyes, dropped the pistol and raised his hands over his head.

"'Don't shoot, I'm one of the good guys," he said.

"On the floor! Flat on the floor right now!"

"Well, now that isn't very smart," Delaney said. "I just dropped my gun down there. If I got down beside it, I could pick it up and shoot you, you damn fool."

"I said get down-"

"Harris, you idiot, put down those guns.!" Steiger shouted, as he got up off Forrester. "It's over!"

"Colonel! I didn't realise-"

"No, of course not!" Steiger said, furiously. "Congratulations, Harris.

You've just disarmed and captured Capt. Finn Delaney.”

Harris paled. "Capt. Delaney! Sir, I'm sorry, I didn't recognise-"

Forrester groaned and rolled over onto his back.

"Oh, sweet Jesus Christ," said Steiger.

Delaney was at his side in an instant. "Oh, God. Don't move, Moses,"

Finn said. "Don't just stand there, somebody get a goddamn medic!"

Forrester looked like he'd taken a nap on a barbecue grill. His face and skull were criss-crossed with blackened laser tracks, not bleeding because the heat had cauterised the wounds. There was a hole in his right cheek where a beam had gone in at an angle, exiting through the neck just below his jawbone. Part of an ear had been neatly sliced off. His fatigues looked like they'd been shredded in places and there were numerous pinholes in his shoulders and arms. Miraculously, none of the vital organs appeared to have been hit. He groaned again and tried to sit up.

"Don't move, Moses, help's on the way," said Delaney. "Screw that," grunted Forrester. "Help me up."

They gently pulled him up to a sitting position on the floor.

"Anyone left alive?" he said.

"I don't know," said Steiger. "Well, check, God damn it!"

"Harris!" Steiger snapped.

"Yes, sir!" Hams rapidly detailed several men. "You, you, and you, come with me, on the double!"

"Somebody give me a cigarette," said Forrester, leaning against Delaney for support.

Steiger got him one and put it between his lips, lighting it for him. Forrester inhaled deeply and then slowly blew the smoke out. The smoke coming out through the hole in his cheek was disconcerting.

Harris came back into the room. His face was ashen.

"They're dead, sir."

Forrester looked stricken. "All of them?"

"I'm afraid so, sir."

"Where the hell were you?" said Steiger, his voice barely under control.

"Sir, we responded the moment the alarm went off," said Harris, "but there was someone in the tube…" He broke off awkwardly when he realised that the someone he was referring to were Steiger and Delaney.

“Yeah, that was us," Delaney said. "Don't blame Harris, Creed. They were incredibly fast. Whoever trained 'em certainly knew what he was doing.'" He glanced at Forrester. "Next time I warn you about keeping those antiques of yours, do me a favour. Kick me. But why the hell didn't you use a plasma gun?"

Forrester grimaced and pointed at the gaping hole where the floor to ceiling window in the far wall of his penthouse used to be. "That's why," he said, wryly. "I don't see the point in shooting sparrows with a cannon. Besides, bullet holes are a lot easier to fix. Jesus, look at this place!"

The medics arrived and pushed their way through. As they started administering first aid to Forrester, one of them turned to Steiger and said, "We've got to get him to a hospital right now"

"I'm not going anywhere," Forrester began, but Steiger interrupted him.

"The hell you're not," he said. "Doctor, are you willing to certify this man unfit for duty in his present condition?"

"You'd better believe it," said the medic.

"Right," said Steiger. "As of right now, I'm assuming command. "

"The Hell you are!" thundered Forrester. "You've got a mission -

" This is the mission," Steiger said. "In case it escaped your attention, those commandos who hit you were about six inches tall. And that means the Network is involved in this thing up to their necks. Either that or we're all trapped in a Walt Disney movie. Doctor, get the general to the hospital right away. Harris, take your detail and accompany them. You're not to leave the general's side for so much as a second, got me? If any medical personnel give you any grief about it, refer them to me. but he's not to be alone under any circumstances. you got that?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Is there a doctor over there that we can trust?" Steiger asked Delaney.

"Capt. Hazen," said Delaney.

"Yeah, I know her. I'll call her right away and explain the situation. Hams, nobody comes near the general unless Capt. Hazen says its okay.

Nobody. That means no nurses administering pills or drip I. V. 's, no cafeteria workers bringing him his breakfast. no orderlies to prep him for an operation. nobody. Either Hazen clears it or they don't get near him. Understand? If anything happens to him, it's your ass."

"I understand, sir.'"

"God damn it, Steiger," Forrester began, but Steiger cut him off again.

"I'm sorry, sir. My first responsibility- is seeing to your welfare."

"Forget about my welfare. I'll be fine. You can't leave your team short-handed!"

"They're not. They've got some very competent help."