pick-up. And I waited. And I waited. I finally decided to bury the dead. By that time, they had started stinking. I figured I'd put 'em in the ground and say a few words, then clock myself back. At least, that was the plan. Anyway… I buried them all. They're all out there, just beyond the front door of this cabin. But when I was covering up the last man… Jase, I think it was, it hit me. Why bother going back?'
Hunter started to pour himself another shot of bourbon, then changed his mind and drank from the bottle instead. He was chain-smoking cigarettes.
'Why bother going back? Nobody knew about me. Nobody cared. So… why bother?'
The thing that struck Lucas the most about Hunter, while he spoke, was the calm way in which he related this story. Hunter spoke without emotion. There was an animated quality about his speech, but that was not the same thing. There was a frightening coldness about the man, as if a part of him was dead. Or had never really lived. Lucas realized, with something of a shock, that he was listening to the perfect soldier, the ideal assassin. This was a man who would not panic under any circumstances. This was a man who would not know fear. It would be as alien an emotion to him as any other.
'It was raining,' Hunter said, 'and I was all covered with muck from burying six corpses. I sat down on the ground, right in the mud, right on top of Jase, and I considered my options. Only four branches of the service have steady access to chronoplates. Referee Corps, Observer Corps, Search and Retrieve and Airborne. The big boys keep real careful track of theirs, but us grunts can lose one once in a while. S and R might be able to home in on a lost chronoplate, like they home in on the coded implants, but suppose somebody picked the damn thing up and walked off with it? No big deal. They're fail safe. You don't know the sequence, the whole thing goes ka-boom. No problem. If there are any witnesses, it just becomes another crazy story. There are risks involved, but they're minimal compared to the risk of having a loose plate floating around.
'Okay, so I knew the sequence for my plate. I could program it. Sure, S amp;R could trace it, but then why didn't they trace the team through any of their implants?'
'Perhaps it was just a temporary mix-up,' Lucas said. 'Separations happen all the time.'
'Yeah, maybe. It could happen,' Hunter said. 'So I decided to wait some more. I mean, what else was there to do? I could've clocked back, but all the time, I kept on thinking, what's in it for me if I return? They don't give a flying fuck about me, why should I give a damn? Well, after a while, I simply decided that I didn't. It took me about a week or two to figure out how to work a bypass on the tracer function. Then I was free and clear. My implant was out and they couldn't trace me through the plate. If they even knew a plate was missing, they'd figure it got into the wrong hands and self-destructed. I just mustered myself out. I built myself this cabin and then I set about making myself comfortable. It was easy. I had a full pathfinders program file to choose from. After a while, I started getting cocky. Started clocking into peacetime periods and locations. Just floated in, scouted around, blended in, did a little shopping and went home. I'll tell you, pilgrim, it's a fine life. I just pick myself a place and go. Paris in the 1920's, New York City in the 1890's, San Francisco in the 1980's, Greece, Singapore, Majorca, you name it. When I've had enough, I just clock back here. It's nice and quiet, no one bothers me and I go out there and tell the boys about the good times I've had.'
'What about the outlaws?' Lucas said.
Hunter laughed. 'They don't mess with me. We've got an understanding. They don't bother the wizard in the woods and I don't bother them. Fact is, we do each other little favors on occasion.'
'What about your men?' said Lucas. 'The outlaws killed them. Doesn't that mean anything to you?'
Hunter took a long pull from the bottle. 'I don't forget things like that,' he said. He got up and walked over to a shelf, from which he took down an ancient. 45 caliber automatic pistol, a Colt Combat Commander. 'I've got more sophisticated weapons,' he said, 'but I find this very effective, especially at night. All the noise and the muzzle flash, makes 'em think I'm throwing lightning bolts at 'em.' He gestured at his robe. 'This outfit sorta completes the image. Impresses the shit outta them. I just gave them a few convincing demonstrations and then I told them that I wanted the men who killed my boys or they were all dead meat. They delivered.'
'What did you do with them?' said Lucas.
Hunter smiled. 'I clocked 'em out.'
'Where?'
'Oh, North America, back in the Upper Cretaceous. Figured they'd get a real bang out of that. I wonder how much good bows and arrows were against the likes of Tyrannosaurus Rex?'
Lucas swallowed heavily. The man was diabolical. Worse than that, he was raving mad. But he had a chronoplate.
Life was no longer simple for the merry men and, as a result, they were all somewhat less than merry. Marion was so impressed with Bobby's performance that with Finn Delaney's aid she mounted a G.I. inspection of the camp, destroying all the ale and wine that she could find. She laid down the law on drinking. From that moment on, it was to be strictly moderated.
The merry men were made to rise at dawn and given one hour in which to make themselves presentable for breakfast. Finn and Bobby had instituted the practice of bathing, which had been greeted with a great deal of alarm. Bathing was generally believed to be a health hazard and it took no small amount of cajoling and pummeling to get the outlaws to comply.
Many of the men were lice infested and this malady was cured by making all the outlaws shave all the hair from their bodies and scrub vigorously in wooden tubs while fire-heated water was poured over them. The complaints they made as a result of this were greatly multiplied when there followed the obligatory period of itching from the stubble as their hair grew back. Finn and Bobby did not exempt themselves from this; Finn shaved because he believed in setting a good example and not demanding anything of 'his men' that he would not do himself. Bobby followed suit because he had discovered, to his great disgust, that Marion had gifted him with crabs.
It had taken both of them to wet her down and shave her, which task was accomplished only after her struggles had resulted in her taking some bad cuts from Finn. He finally smashed her in the jaw and told her that if she would not lie still, he would skin her alive. She suffered the treatment stoically from then on, but when it came time to scrub her down, she fought them, clawing like a wildcat. The merry men were more than eager to assist Finn and Bobby in the task.
When it was all done, they all looked like Army boots in training. And, not surprisingly, the process had taken a good deal of the resistance out of them. They were also pleasantly surprised to be free of their tiny livestock at long last.
Breakfast was followed by a general clean-up of the camp as their existence became regimented. The clean- up was followed by inspection, which was followed by a period of drill and calisthenics. Finn was a ruthless taskmaster and he was ably assisted by Marion, who would not be outdone by any of the others. Finn and Bobby also saw to it that there was a variation in their diet and that cooked food was cooked properly. They worked hard and they ate well. Whatever recalcitrance remained vanished the moment they were able to put their new training into practice.
The soldiers had no desire to reform the merry men. They were outlaws and outlaws they would remain. Plying their trade helped them to put their training into practice. The first time, Finn and Bobby directed them in a foray against one of the sheriff's tax collecting parties.
The sheriff's tax collector was well protected by a party of knights and men at arms, a force that ordinarily the outlaws would have refrained from attacking. Finn had Bobby, with a group of about ten outlaws, block the party's progress by jumping out from under cover ahead of them with shouts of 'Stand and deliver!' The sheriff's men reacted in the proper fashion to such a confrontation. The knights couched their lances and, closely followed by the men at arms, they charged — right into the line of fire of the twenty some odd archers Finn was commanding, who were under cover to the right of the trail. The result was that the sheriff's men were caught in a deadly crossfire, from the front and from their flank. At that distance, with the cloth-yard shafts and the incredibly powerful pull of the longbows, armor provided only the most superficial protection. The ambush was devastatingly effective and the outlaws made a tidy haul. Alan-a-dale was inspired to compose a song about the incident. In a short time, Finn and Bobby had instilled within the outlaws something which they had sorely lacked up to that point- esprit de corps.
But there was still one dark cloud on the horizon. There was no word from Lucas.
'He should have been here days ago,' said Bobby. It was late and he and Finn were sitting by the embers of a fire. It would be dawn soon.
