Time Warriors Chapter 4

"We are ready for liftoff, Commander," the commlink buzzed.

Slowly, the H'trch commander turned his head toward the sound of the link. "Initiate the sequence and stand ready for liftoff," he ordered, speaking rapidly, "I'm on my way to the bridge."

The commander had just re-entered his ship from the last reconnaissance mission, and was sick at heart. They had set down a total of four different times at four different locations across Calipt'dor, and all with the same result. Piles and piles and piles of H'trch bodies, as far as the eye could see, with no survivors. Endless body parts, cairns heaped 7 meters high, bodies clogging main city streets ... the horror seemed to have no end in sight. They had even tried to locate survivors below ground, in the mines and nurseries, to no avail.

Children … even the children were destroyed …

He felt the drive engines come to life, and started to move rapidly through the corridors toward the bridge. The ship had been designed for softbodies, but the great H'trch engineering minds had adapted the designs to accommodate the H'trch's greater size and bulk.

What happens, the commander thought bitterly, when we can no longer operate this ship? There are no more great H'trch engineering minds left ... there are no H'trch … they are all slag heaps, now ...

He swung himself through the narrow hallways with ease, angrily pushing the images of the recon mission out of his mind, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. As he stepped onto the bridge, his crew turned to face him. I am responsible for them, he thought grimly. We must be strong together.

Aloud, he snapped, "Take us off planet, Sh'rng. Now!" He pushed himself into the commander's chair above the navigator and glared at the rest of the crew. "To your posts - at once!" he ordered.

"Sir!" they replied as one, moving to their various positions on the bridge. As he watched the ground drop away on the viewscreen, he made a promise to himself. I will find you, Time Lord, he vowed, and when I do, I will make certain that you pay for all the destruction you visited on my people. You will suffer - there will be no easy death for you. No death at all, if I can help it.

His jointed face was drawn back in a grimace as his first mate inquired, "Sir - we have cleared the planet's surface and are in a standard orbit. Your orders, sir? Sir?"

The commander looked at his first mate. "Take her to the jump station, Sh'mg. We will reconn there; once we have secured the area, we will move out."

"Yes, sir," the first replied crisply. However, the commander knew his first extremely well, and could see that she was operating on nerves alone. Her joints need foaming, he thought, examining her. I can't allow her to get run down. She's too important.

"Once you have docked at the jump station, Sh'mg, I want you to get some rest. That's an order," he said, lifting his great hand to forestall any protests on her part, staring directly at her.

"Yes, sir," Sh'mg replied evenly, nodding her head. She knew when to argue with the commander, and when not to argue. In her opinion, this time fell into the latter category.

"I will need you, Sh'mg, to plot a course to the Argus system before you go off duty, " continued the commander. "I plan to go there to pick up supplies and to do some trading - and I'll need you and several others to go off ship with me to negotiate with the softbodies."

"Yes, sir. May I choose the crew, sir? Or do you have others in mind?" Sh'mg was familiar with offship trading and was able to use their universal translator with ease.

"You may choose the crew, Sh'mg, but be sure to include At'tka and Jh'rnd - and don't include Te'rah," the commander replied. "She will be staying with the ship. Also, please insure that anyone going offship has a working chip and a working translator. Check this through the computer. While we're at it, we might as well order up chip exams for everyone - make sure that is coordinated through Te'rah, though. Any questions?"

"No, sir," said Sh'mg, making a mental note to contact the security chief as soon as was practical.

"Fine," sighed the commander. "Let's get on with it, then."

Sh'mg turned to the navigator and started issuing docking orders, all the while thinking of the offship duty they would have in the Argus system. Her helmet covered the top of her head and was about the same color as her rocklike skin, but the flashing energy pulses around the brim showed her mental activity in a way that her face never could.

The commander watched her and knew what she was thinking. Not yet, my dear, he thought, not yet. We still need some of the softbodies. But soon, when we have the Time Lord and her ship, we will subsume them ... all of them ... down to the last soul.

A gentle rain was falling outside the thatched roof house. Tangles of rosewood and boxweed burrowed in the undergrowth, as rain heavy willows bent their branches toward the windows of the cottage.

Warm, inviting light streamed from the interior and outlined the form of a woman. She was standing next to a large window, an abstracted look on her face, holding a large, steaming mug between both hands. Her face gave the appearance of youth, but closer inspection showed the fine lines and creases earned with age; her hair was a honey red, with wisps of gray shot through it. The steam rose in rivulets from the cup, assaulting her nose with its fragrance and warmth, but she hardly seemed to notice. She was layered in somber-hued, thick woolen sweaters and wore wide black woolen trousers banded with green at the bottom. Her eyes were turned inward and unfocused, her breathing short and shallow, as if her consciousness was elsewhere – which, in fact, it was.

At the sound of voices from the outer room, she started and turned away from the window, a frown marring her features, her eyes refocusing. She walked to the large, planked table in the middle of the room, put her cup down at the head, then moved to the massive wooden doors braced with iron to welcome the new arrivals.

"Ohayo, Yisador – let us in, please – it's freezing out here!"

Bright chatter and smiling faces greeted her immediately when she opened the door. The women on the other side eagerly stepped into the room from the damp outdoors and tramped over to the fireplace to deposit their outer clothes, leaving a wet trail across the solid wooden planks of the floor.

…six, seven, eight … ah, good, Yisador counted to herself, everyone's here. Raising her voice to be heard over the general hubbub, she called, "Ladies, please – there's cider and tea and pastries on the sideboard. Don't be shy, now …"

Talking and laughing, they draped their outerwear across the benches and chairs arrayed in front of the fireplace to dry, then descended on the sideboard. Many picked their way across the table, deftly spearing honeyed breads and pastries at the end of long toasting forks, pouring large, steaming mugs of trumpberry tea and hot, mulled cider for each other, elbowing and laughing as they chose their portions.

After serving themselves, the newcomers turned from the sideboard and moved over to the table, finding their seats with the alacrity of long practice. As they settled themselves, many brought out palmboards and mini swivelscreens from the pockets of their trousers, arranging the equipment on the table next to their food with a minimum of fuss.

Yisador, seated at the head of the table, had several moments to observe her friends. They were as familiar to her as her old quilts, as dependable as the rising of the suns. These were the people with whom she had lived for nearly one thousand years. They were all Matrix Guardians.

These women were not gods in the purest sense, in the sense of the Kamis or Kaious, but their power and intelligence pushed them close to that level. Their cousins, the Time Lords of Gallifrey, were one of the few races that possessed psychic powers that rivaled their own – however, the similarity between them ended there, even though the Time Lords could access the Matrix at the heart of Gallifrey. Matrix Guardians had, in their day, built civilizations on a par with the Progenitors, those that had spawned most intelligent life at the Galactic core – and had laid waste to an equal amount. Their influence was felt in every time stream throughout the galaxy and within those cross-cutting events in each stream; it was subtle and pervasive, sliding its fingers into each crack and crevasse.

Yisador's gaze swept across the assembled women again, and lingered on the empty chairs at the foot of the table. Just as they, in their pride, had been able to make or break civilizations, the Guardians had nearly been broken themselves. Only forty-two years ago their kind had almost been eliminated in a freakish chance encounter with the Saiyans, an upstart warrior race. Some of the women present had been enslaved in that conflict; many others had been killed, while some barely escaped with their lives and were forced to flee their own planet and find a new Homeland. It had only been by the grace of Kami that the Saiyan slaves had been able to escape Vejiitasei after seven long years of captivity and find their sisters. Yisador shuddered involuntarily, remembering.

Taking a deep breath, Yisador called, "Ladies … everyone, let's begin," and loudly tapped her spoon on the side of her mug for order. "Thank you so much for coming on such short notice," she continued, smiling gravely at each woman in turn. "It is a testament to you that you would consider coming so quickly, and in such foul weather."

"Yisa, you know we would come whenever you called," Meryth said, hiding a yawn behind one plump hand. "Whenever the Queen calls, we come. Besides, you always have a good reason for dragging us away from our families and lives."

"What? You have a life, Meryth?" a voice murmured from Yisador's left. "That's a shock."

"Shut up, Stranna," Meryth said agreeably, raising her eyebrow as she sipped her trumpberry tea. "No one asked for your opinion."

"And that's why I'm forced to give it so often," Stranna rejoined, grinning across the table at her.

"Hmph," Meryth grunted, her eyebrows drawn together in mock severity. "You know what they say about—"

"Ladies, can we get started?" Yisador asked again, glancing from Stranna to Meryth in amusement. "And would you two mind fighting somewhere else?"

An appreciative chuckle moved among the women as the two friends chuckled at each other. Waving her hand, Stranna said, "Please – don't let our bickering stop you. Go right ahead."

"Ah," Yisador replied, looking down at her own palmscreen. "Well … I feel that there is something we need to discuss, and without delay. My probability models show that something quite … unusual … is predicted to occur in this timestream within the next several days."

She was silent for a moment. "You all know Theo, my daughter," she began, looking from face to face. "She's recently had an—" and she paused slightly, giving Meryth a significant look, "—unfortunate encounter with a particularly dangerous race called the H'trch on their home planet."

Meryth stared back at her with a perplexed frown. Why did she look at me when she said that? she wondered.

"H'trch? Aren't they..." Charline puzzled from the foot of the table. "Wait a minute - aren't they ... silicone? Just rocks - right?" An expression of perplexity crossed her heart-shaped face as she thought about the problem. "I heard something about them a while ago. I'm trying to remember …"

Charline opened her mouth to reply when Meryth decided that she had heard enough. "Why would we have to remember it, Gable?" asked Meryth, shrugging. "You're the historian - you remember everything. We just have to ask you."

Gable scowled at Meryth. "Would it hurt you to pay attention every now and then? This isn't ancient history, you know - this 'universal domination' thing of theirs started about 40 or 50 years ago, and has probably grown since. That race is dangerous to the health of any biological being in their reach."

"Y'know, I was a little busy trying to stay alive back then, if you remember," Meryth snapped back, her eyes flashing. "I didn't have time to keep up with current events."

"No need to get huffy - we were ALL busy 40 years ago," Gable retorted hotly, color flushing into her cheeks.

"Ladies, please," interjected Yisador, forestalling Meryth's angry reply. "Everyone had problems forty years ago. However," she said, glaring at Meryth, "that is not the point of this discussion."

"Then what is the point?" Meryth asked tightly as she swung her squat body around toward Yisador, her eyes a snapping sea green.

Yisador looked at her friend and sighed wearily. "We were talking about Theo, remember. Theo had an encounter with this race several days ago in this timestream. Before she … met … them, their population was approximately one billion. Not huge, but fairly respectable."

" …and?" Meryth prodded irritably, still miffed from her conversation with Gable.

" … and today there are less than two-tenths of one percent of them alive."

Every women around the table stopped tapping on her palmboard at exactly the same time and gaped at Yisador.

"Are you sure?" Gable asked incredulously. "I can't believe that. You must be mistaken."

Unexpectedly Charline spoke out, studying her palmboard as she glanced over at Stranna. "No, Yisador is correct. I've just done a sweep of the H'trch home planet, and ... there is no life there. Nothing like readings that were taken ..." and she gasped, " ... one week ago?"

"Impossible!"

"That can't be!"

Immediately, the other Guardians consulted their screens and palmboards. The next few moments were a flurry of activity as each member verified the information that Charline had found. As the tumult died down, eight women faced Yisador with the same question on the tip of their tongues.

"How ... how did it happen?" asked Meryth, looking as though she would rather not know the answer to her question.

Yisador spoke slowly, measuring every word, watching the effect they had on her friends. "Apparently ... Theo was able to kill the H'trchs by burning the thread of their lives in the Valley of Souls."

The silence in the room was deafening. No one spoke; no one moved; it also seemed to Yisador that they had all stopped breathing.

"But … that's ... impossible ...," whispered Stranna. "Only the Kaious can do that."

Yisador shrugged slightly, her expression unreadable. "I only gathered this information this morning. It's not firsthand, but … fairly reliable."

Meryth stared at Yisador, her florid face a mask of distress. "It has happened before," she said quietly.

Stranna glanced at Meryth sharply, her eyes blue and piercing. "What are you talking about? I don't remember anything like this."

Meryth looked at Yisador, seeking permission; when Yisador gave no visible sign, Meryth sighed, turned to Stranna and said, "It happened before we left Vejiitasei. "

"When?" Stranna snapped impatiently, scowling. "I don't remember it - I never saw anything like it—"

"That's because you weren't outside when Theo dragged Beryan's body across the rotunda," Meryth snapped back. "She dropped over one hundred Saiyans in their tracks right outside the TARDIS. They were laying in piles all over the place. She has to have done the same thing – it's the only explanation."

Stranna opened her mouth to say something, then quickly closed it, looking stunned. The rest of the women were silent as well, assimilating this new information. "Where is she now?" she managed to ask in a strangled voice.

"According to this—" Yisador said, gesturing to her palmboard, "—she went to Gallifrey."

Stranna blinked, looking confused. "Gallifrey? Why not here? Why didn't she come home?"

"I have no idea," Yisador said, shaking her head. Looking at the far end of the table, Yisador raised her voice and asked, "Olean, what have you been receiving? Anything at all?"

Olean had been characteristically silent the entire time the Guardians were arguing with each other, slumped quietly in her chair. She was a fragile woman, long and thin, with weary hands; her eyes had been closed, but at Yisador's direct question, they snapped open and appeared to overwhelm her face with darkness. Psychic pain radiated from their depths – her farsensing talent and her ability to predict future events overpowered her at times, and the pain she endured from Freeza's abuse never left her.

She leaned forward, grasping the edge of the table, and spoke directly to Yisador. "Theo led a rescue mission for the Time Lords - but somehow, in her mind, it really wasn't a rescue mission. It's - it's very confusing." Olean frowned and shifted her body in her chair, unconsciously straightening her back. "She – " and Olean blinked, "—she told the Time Lord council what happened, and now she's off to the Argus system – ostensibly, for some rest and recreation."

Olean's face contorted slightly as she looked at Yisador, hopelessness spilling out of her as she gave her last piece of information. "And she's been having those dreams again – and they're worse, Yisa, because of what's happened with the H'trch." Her expression was wretched as she murmured, "She's not doing very well right now. I'm sorry, Yisador."

"What dreams?" Gable murmured to Charline, glancing down the table at Yisador. "What is she talking about?"

"Shh – I'll tell you later," Charline hissed back, frowning.

Yisador shook her head at Olean's words, staring down at the table. Oh, Theo … she mourned. "Olean, did you see what else is going there in that same time continuum?" she asked, automatically probing.

"No, I did not. Let me look." Olean closed her eyes and concentrated; suddenly, her eyes flew open and she reached for her palmboard, an odd expression on her long face. She looked back at Yisador, plainly unsettled, and said, "I'd like someone else to verify this, please – here are the coordinates – "

Immediately, seven other palmboards were targeted on the space/time vector lines from Olean's palmboard.

"This ... umm ... this doesn't seem quite right," Charline said, frowning, feeling the top of the palmboard with her fingertips. "There's ... there's something else in this continuum that has the exact same probability of arriving at the Argus system the same time as Theo ... which in itself, isn't bad ... but ... it's scale and power factor is ... gigantic. Are you feeling this?" she asked, looking around the table at her colleagues.

"I am," Stranna agreed, squinting at her own palmboard. "Wait—I'm targeting the object .. just a few more—" Her mouth tightened as she curved her hand over the board, forming a slight energy field that bowed out, "—I've got it!" Triumphantly, she showed the object captured in the field to the others at the table. "Now, let's see ... "

Pushing at the temporal field with her index finger, Stranna continued, mystefied, "...it's not quite stable -- and I don't know why. I used my strongest time net ..."

"It's almost impossible to keep vital objects stable – whatever this is, it must be important. We'll just have to work quickly," said Yisador, frowning at the board.

"Well, let's see what's here," Meryth said briskly. "Ladies, are you ready?"

A murmur of agreement went around the table. The Guardians leaned back into their chairs, closed their eyes, and from long practice forged an unbreakable mental link with each other. Outside observers would have seen each woman slightly glowing, with each linked to the palmboard in Stranna's hand by a small strand of energy. Delicate, multihued tendrils of thought permeated the field, gently probing until they met the object under study. Branches of flame fanned out around the object, encapsulating it, then worked their way into it...

Almost immediately, the energy surrounding each woman turned bright red and roared toward the ceiling. The room had become an inferno with Stranna's palmboard as its center. Chairs were toppled, the table was almost overturned, most of the other equipment on the table had been thrown on the floor as all the women flung their palmboards on top of the table. The slight energy field that had surrounded Stranna's palmboard quadrupled in size, with the captured object glowing hotly in the middle.

The Guardians were standing with their backs to the wall, breathing hard, their eyes wide and staring. Once their pulsing energy had turned red, they had been pushed away from the object by their own natural power and had walled themselves off from it in an aura of swirling flame. These women were indeed stronger as a group than as individuals, and now their power swelled and pulsed as Yisador, the Matrix Queen, wielded it as raw, creative energy licking about her hands and arms like chain lightning.

"Close it," she snarled to Stranna. "Close it before it reaches us. Before I destroy it and the ENTIRE time continuum with it, because so help me, if it even looks like it will escape, I will!"

Stranna reached out with her mind. "I can't find the connection!" she shouted to the others. "I need help!"

At once Charline, Gable and Olean forged a sublink with each other; Charline took the lead position, put her hand out and touched Stranna, giving her their combined power and strengths. Gable ferreted out the connection while Charline, Olean and Stranna kept the energy field stable, the strain visible on their faces. Yisador was still facing the object, now grown to ten times its normal size. She was demanding power from every woman in the room as she prepared to vaporize the threat, her aura and her eyes glowing brightly, her hair standing on end.

"Don't fire, Yisador – I've got it!" Gable shouted. "Move back!"

A loud POP sounded; the energy field sizzled, and the object shimmered, wavered, and finally vanished. A collective sigh of relief was exhaled around the room. The ruby flames surrounding each woman winked out, leaving each staring at the blackened palmboard in the center of the table.

Charline, Gable and Olean were the first to recover. Silently, they went about the business of picking up the chairs and the discarded equipment, taking extreme care not to touch the palmboard on the table. One by one, the rest of the Guardians shook themselves out of their daze and started moving again, automatically righting the furniture and any other pieces of equipment they could find. Silence blanketed the room as the women took their seats around the table again, with Yisador at the head. They all stared at each other, waiting for someone else to start.

Yisador cleared her throat and tried to say something, but nothing would come out. The word she wanted to say wouldn't go past the lump in her throat.

"Saiyans," Meryth whispered for her.