“It’s important to you. I get that,” Hickok said. “What I don’t rightly savvy is why.”
Yama folded his arms. “I thought I made myself sufficiently clear. One of the Lords of Kismet is regarded as the real Yama. The one who spawned myths and legends that had persisted to this day. The very being, need I remind you, whose name I took as my own?”
“Again, so what?” Hickok said. “Why will meeting him—or it—matter so much?”
“I regard it as a pootential validation of my calling.”
“Your what?”
“That which we do for a living. You know.” Yama locked eys with Hickok. “Dispensing death.”
“Oh, brother.”
“Why do you grin? That’s what we do. It’s our main purpose in life. Surely you, of all people, realize that.”
“My main purpose, as you call it, is to protect the Family,” Hickok said. “That I have to shoot a few idiots now and then is icin’ on the cake.” Truth to tell, it was one of his favorite aspects. “You ask me, you make more of killin’ things than any of us. With you, it’s practically a religion.”
“I like how you phrased that,” Yama said.
“You would. Which proves my case. You’ve let snuffin’ bad guys stick in your craw to where it’s all you think about.”
“There is an art to dispensing death, as there is to every element of life.”
“I don’t see any art in takin’ a dump,” Hickok said.
“A childish comparison..” Yama sighed. “How can I put this so you will stop pestering me?” He snapped his fingers. “I have it. This should have occurred to me sooner.” He placed his hand on Hickok’s shoulder. “Imagine if you had a chance to meet the real Wild Bill Hickok. Would that not be important to you? To stand in the presence of the man you admire so much that you took his name as your own?”
Hickok had, in fact, sometimes wondered what it would be like to meet James Butler Hickok face-to-face. With everything he’d read about Hickok as a boy—meeting the real article would thrill him no end. “Well, dang,” he said.
“You still don’t understand?”
“That’s the trouble,” Hickok said. “I do.” He thrust out his hand for the Death Warrior to shake. “I’ll let it drop. Blade, you and me are goin’ to southeast Asia and kick Kismet tush.”
“A lot of it, I expect,” Yama said.
CHAPTER 15
It was the last meeting before the Warriors were to depart, held in the library. The tables were arranged in a rectangle, with the Family Leader at the head. The Elders were present. So were all the Warriors not on guard duty on the walls, and their spouses. A.l.v.i.s hovered at the far end, gleaming in the light of the oil lamps, next to Tesla’s chair.
Socrates got their attention by rising and clearing his throat. “A momentous occasion is upon us,” he began.
Blade, seated on their Leader’s right with Jenny beside him, smiled and placed his hand on hers. He knew how worried she was and hoped nothing would be said to add to that worry.
“We are about to embark on an enterprise unlike any other,” Socrates continued. “Not by choice, but because it has been forced on us by the attack on our Home. The Lords of Kismet want to wipe us out. We must ensure that doesn’t happen.”
“The mangy varmints,” Hickok called out, and his wife, Sherry, told him to shush.
Ignoring the interruption, Socrates went on. “They might well pose the gravest threat to our Family since the Big Blast. We know they are powerful, although the full extent of that power has yet to be determined. We know that they control parts of Asia, but again, how much territory is under their sway, we have yet to learn. We know they have successfully crippled the Freedom Federation. It has been months since we’ve heard from the Free State of California, the Civilized Zone, and other factions.” He paused. “It could well be we are the last ones standing, as the old saying has it.”
An Elder named Francis stirred in his chair. “I seriously doubt the other members of the Federation were exterminated. Subjugated, yes. These Lords appear to relish holding sway over humans.”
A tall Warrior with a Mohawk raised his hand. “Why don’t we send a Triad to Denver or California to find out exactly what’s happened?”
“For the same reason, Ares, that we’re not sending Warriors overland to the Pacific Coast and from there on to Asia by ship,” Socrates said. “The time factor, we feel, is crucial. Even in the SEAL, it would take weeks to reach the Civilized Zone or California. Thus, our plan is to resort to the Time Machine.”
“Even so,” Ares said. “Why not send another Triad while Blade and Hickok and Yama are off in Asia?”
Blade felt compelled to speak up. “You’d have us deplete our strength even more?” He shook his head. “The safety of the Family comes first. We must stay at full force, or close to it, in case the Lords of Kismet attack the Home again.” He raked everyone with a meaningful stare. “Besides, you don’t kill a snake by cutting off the tail. You chop off its head. Freeing California and the Civilized Zone does nothing to stop the main threat, the Lords of Kismet, themselves.”
“It is our hope,” Socrates took up, “that the time machine will enable us to strike directly at these self-styled Lords. And with that in mind, I yield the floor to our chief Scientist.”
As their Leader sat, Tesla stood and ruffled through sheets of paper. “Yes, well,” he said, and smiled awkwardly. “The device, so far as we can tell, is operational.” He gestured at the synthezoid. “It would not have been possible without the newest member of our Family.”
“I am happy to serve,” A.l.v.i.s chirped.
“The time machine is a truly incredible device,” Tesla said. “A masterwork of ingenuity.”
Another Warrior, a hybrid with feline features, uttered a sound
