LOST IN THE EMPIRE
PART 6

One little pill.

Rachel looked from the white capsule in her hand to the Warp chamber, tried not to show much reaction to Sid’s spurious comment, tapping Cort on the arm when he glared at Sid, reminding him to swallow his capsule. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sid’s sneer turn positively ecstatic…for a brief second. Then it regained its smirk.

Repressing a shudder, she put the capsule in her mouth and swallowed with a sip of water. It went down her throat like a burning little rock.

Something about this felt…different.

“We’re beaming up in that thing?” she heard Deidre quip. She turned to find the Alabama girl standing nearby, who cocked an eyebrow at the rest of them, imitating the reference they knew so well with all the Southern inflection it needed. “I’m an archaeologist, not a molecular gymnast.”

“You’ll be in one piece when we get there,” Terry replied.

“What if we end up nowhere?”

“You really want me to answer that?”

“Yes, Terry, I want you to play along. Humor me, luv…I need it right now.” The tremor in Deidre’s voice made them all laugh.

“Then this is your chance to get away from it all,” Terry obliged.

Rachel caught Cort’s look. “Another movie,” she said. This time, he rolled his eyes.

“You’ve only a few minutes, guys,” Alicia warned, standing at the warp console with Sid. Or, at least standing over him as he was doubled over the console. Her hand was on the back of his neck, pushing his face against the monitor. “Just commiserating with my precious Sid on preparing your journey,” she smiled sweetly. Sid’s protest was muffled by another squeak as she rubbed his cheek against the glass screen. “He says he is certain things will go well…isn’t that right, nanoboy?” She released him so he could regain some modicum of dignity and perform the last switch as the team collected in the warp room.

Sid straightened his tie, eyes flashing with anger, and before the doors slammed shut threw out at them, “Ta ta! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Deidre was the first to let out a breath…of relief, nervousness?

“Someone remind me why I came on this trip?” Cort muttered. Rachel wrapped her arms around his middle and squeezed. She couldn’t let that…thing…get to her now. Need to think forward, she reminded herself. She smiled up at Cort to reassure him.

“Everyone took their capsules?” Terry asked, looking at Deidre, who smiled over-brightly and rubbed her tummy.

“Mmmm! Breakfast of champions!”

Terry shook his head. “Are you always this cheerful when you’re scared?”

“Only when I’m about to become Nanoboy’s favorite computer game,” Deidre retorted.

“Don’t worry. The capsules will counteract the effects of the extended warp. We'll be fine.”

“Will this take long?” Cort asked.

“It only seems like it,” Rachel said, a little unnerved by the slight tremble she felt as she hugged him. “Everything sort of goes into slow motion….it’ll be over before you know it.

As if on cue, the lights in the chamber went from bright white florescence to a dull ultraviolent blue. Deidre forsook dignity and wrapped her arms around Terry’s free arm. He didn’t protest. As the warp geared up, the lights began to pulse and Rachel could feel the pulse grow until it enveloped them. She looked over to Terry, who seemed to be realizing the same thing she was: the transfer was not as jarring as it had been in the past. Each of their forms appeared to be coated in a bubble that showed the aggressive waves of the transference, but she could only feel them as a sunbather would feel the morning sun.

Sweet! The only thing that remained to annoy was the volume of sound coming from the warp. The bubble seemed to dampen that somewhat, but it was still loud enough to force them to shout. All in all, a vast improvement over the last time she came through. Rachel felt the beginnings of a small seed of gratitude for Sid’s invention…hell, even for Sid himself. Something compassionate must be in him after all! What a neat little pill…!

Rachel turned to look back up at Cort. “See…it’s not so bad…it’s…”

Only…Cort now had his free hand pressed to his head, features twisted in agony. He released her with his other arm and began to sink to his knees, moaning, gasping as though his brain was expanding and his skull far too small now to contain it. She saw a slight trickle of blood come from his nose.

Terry and Deidre were reaching out to hold Cort up, trying to shout to her through the whiney howl.

“Why isn’t his capsule working?” Rachel began to shout, but before Dee and Terry could even begin to answer, she already had the answer forming as though big blue letters in front of her. “NO! He wouldn’t….damn him! I’ll kill him!” She started screaming.

“Help us!” Terry bawled back, now competing with Cort’s vocal distress. “Keep him upright! Stay together! It’s almost….”

If there had been a steep speed-bump in the line of warp, the next event could not have been less rough, less violent in the way the sound and motion and shielding felt. The blue turned to a rancid color and then to amber, a color that grew a sickening shade of hot orange. Rachel tried to bring Cort’s arm around her waist, to anchor him, to give him something to hold onto. Terry became momentarily fascinated by the light-trail his motions created. Diedre’s head became a dull blotch as she shook her head, denying fear.

The noise reached a horrible pitch and they lurched forward as if they were being tossed out of the chamber like garbage bags, the amber light exploding around them in a fireworks display that left them stunned and shaken.

“Are we there? Is this it?” Rachel heard Diedre gasp. She could only grunt in reply. Her eyes were pulling muscles in their ocular cavity trying to locate Cort, locate Terry. Cort lay at her feet, gray as as a ghost but conscious. She could see him looking up at her in confusion. Terry sat upright nearby, his own eyes connecting with the only other experienced retriever in the group.

This wasn’t supposed to happen!

“Oh, God, incoming!” Diedre moaned and a firepot crashed into a tall stand of pines nearby, bursting out in a ball of oily flame, soaking the trees with livid fire.

“Germania!” Terry screamed and scrambled to his feet.

Rachel whirled, trying to see around her. They were on the slope of an endless hill amid a forest of pine and beech. Below them, a chaotic line of what looked to be mutant bears, but as smoke from the firepot cleared, she recognized swords, axes, blades…a barbaric roar was sounding across the field.

Terry was scrambling to pick up fallen items, tug on Deidre, who had slipped in an effort to climb the slope. He yanked up Cort’s arm, “GET UP! GET UP NOW!”

“Hold the line!” They heard a call above them.

Rachel whirled again to look up the slope now. Cavalry! Roman cavalry charging full speed toward them!

“Stay with me!” They heard the cry again.

Rachel folded to the ground, unable to move. Terry stood over her, yelling unintelligibly just beneath the pounding of hooves. Diedre was trying to push her along, but she flung herself over Cort.

Then, as if her eyes had specifically sought one figure, she riveted upon one horseman, armor gleaming golden from garish firelight, Maximus in full battle charge, disappearing into the German hordes with a battle cry of his own.

^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^

It was almost too much. The reality of it. No matter how many times they had seen the movie...THIS was the reality...this was battle. Hooves thundered and crashed on either side of them as the bodies of charging horses brushed past all too closely. Battle cries, both Roman and German, filled the air, mingling with the screams of the wounded, the crashing of the firepots.

Cort felt Terry pulling on his arm. His mind was just beginning to clear from the effects of the warp. What? This was no quiet, torch-lit tunnel! Terry was shouting, "Get up! Get up NOW!" He tried to get his legs under him, tried to stand. Where? What was happening?

Then he heard the cry, "Hold the line!" and he...knew. The last of the fog, the last of the nausea slipped away, and he was nearly pierced with the knowledge that the shout had come from Maximus. His eyes quickly found Rachel. "Germania?" he said. "We are in Germania??"

She nodded sharply, tugging on his other arm. "Hurry, Darling!"

"CORT!" Terry shouted again. "NOW! UP!"

Three pines grew closely together just to their left. Half-dragging Cort, the four of them ducked behind the trees as the cavalry parted on either side, careening past like some cataract of horses and men. Rachel helped Cort prop himself against a pine and he stood there, panting, watching the cavalry jump the flames and crash into the surprised rear of the German lines. A wild mixture of feelings flooded him. Something had gone wrong. Somehow they were in Germania, not Rome. Yes...they WERE in Germania! His eyes lit with something akin to wonder as the flames died down in one area and he could see through the smolder to where Maximus leaned out with his sword, his blow so strong that the blade embedded into the pine. My...God! This was... real. He tried to take it in, make sense of the fact of it. He knew...had known for some time now...that he, they, were going into Gladiator. But somehow it had not been quite real. Not like this. Now, for the first time, the reality of being in a movie became clear. Now, for the first time, he saw The Quick and the Dead for what it was, what he was. Everything seemed to make...sense. He wanted Rachel to know that he understood. "Ra...." he started to say, but there was no time. Small clumps of combatants were coming back up the slope and an arrow thowcked into the pine just above his head.

"RUN!" Terry shouted, pointing to a larger, denser thicket of underbrush.

Cort lingered. The German soldier would trip the General's horse in a moment. He wanted to see. He wanted to see Maximus get up from the mud. But Terry grabbed him firmly, hauling him along toward the thicket. They dove headlong into the brush, scrambling to get more deeply into its cover. Crouching there, they waited as the afternoon light faded and only faltering flames lit the battlefield. All of them played the battle out in their minds.

Finally Terry whispered, shaking his head, "Unlike Commodus, we did not miss the battle." His eyes sought Rachel's. "I have no idea what caused this, none." Then to Diedre and Cort he added, "We can only hope that Sid was able to track us, that he knows where we are."

"Where ARE they?" Sid bellowed, leaning over the console with Alicia, his eyes scanning the various screens. All of them were static. Nothing else. He advanced again toward the frightened techs, a look on his face that would cause mushroom toes to curl, had they toes.

"No, Sid," Alicia said, trying to maintain a semblance of calm. "Killing techs won't provide you with your answer."

"True," he replied, turning his gaze on her. "But it might make me feel less...tense."

Returning to the console, his fingers moved rapidly over the controls. Nothing he did brought up a picture on any of the screens. The crease on his brow grew deeper and deeper. He needed to rip something apart. He needed.... Alicia's hand on his arm stopped him again. "Don't," was all she said. "Don't break the screens."

Shaking her hand off, he stomped to the door of the warp chamber, smashing down the lever that would open it. He walked inside, turning slowly, his eyes going over inch of surface. Nothing. Not one clue. Had they even ended up in Gladiator at all? Were they just little molecules scattered somewhere? His lip curled and he looked back out toward the cowering techs. "FIND THEM," he ordered, his voice low, level with deadly promise. No one, not even Alicia, knew how important this mission was, what it would mean for him personally.

"What...now?" Diedre asked, rubbing a cramped leg muscle.

Terry had pulled the small signaling device from a hidden pocket in his uniform. "Damn!" he said, "Damn, damn, damn!"

"What is it?" Rachel asked, her concern growing.

"Can't make contact, can't send a signal of any sort." He looked at her, his eyes dark and serious. "They will have no way of knowing where we are."

"We...we're...stuck?" Diedre gasped. "Here? In Germania?"

"'Fraid so, 'Nolia," he replied, shaking his head. "Looks like we're on our own."

Rachel licked her lips, her hand searching for Cort's. "We're not prepared for this, Terry. Not at all."

"Tell me about it," he sighed. He parted the brush, looking down the slope. "Commodus has arrived," he announced. "When it gets darker, we'll have to slip into camp, try to mingle, not be noticed. See when we can make contact with Maximus."

"Even if we do that," Rachel asked, "how can we get him back? How can we get...us...back?"

He sighed again. "I have no idea."

^ * ^ * ^ * ^ * ^

Nightfall came swiftly in the remaining shadows of the forest. They lay huddled under the cover of the brush, taking advantage of a bowl-shaped dip in the ground that not only kept them out of the stream of icy wind blowing through the woods, but also gave them enough coverage from eyes scanning the area for survivors. They didn’t have to worry too much, though, as most of the carnage was at the base of the hill, the rear attack having swept whatever stray barbarian down into the melee in one frightening rush. While most of the activity was focused in the valley, only one or two soldiers ventured uphill with torches. Whatever they hoped to find could wait at least until morning.

“My one hope is that no one on horseback noticed us standing there,” Terry confessed, as they began to collaborate on their next move.

“We should at least attempt to gather what wood and spoils we can manage to carry before we walk into camp,” Cort said, pointing to the charred landscape beyond their line of vision. They had been watching figures in brilliant red and flashing metal begin to move about the dead, efficiently hauling off what they could and piling bodies into haphazard groups. “There’s bound to be some things we can use to get us through the night.”

“Whatever we do collect, we have to take to the commandant first,” Deidre said. “They clamp down on the pillage after a battle as much as possible. Whatever is collected is distributed, but it has to go to the leaders first, otherwise you two might find yourself executed in the morning.” She pointed to the vale. “Looks like that’s what they’re doing now. We might easily become part of that.”

“But how?” Rachel asked. “Won’t they ask questions? I mean, we hid here and didn’t fight and they don’t know us from a hole in the sky. How do we explain?”

“She’s right,” Cort said. “We need a story fast.”

They could barely see Terry’s face now, darkness reducing his face to mere lines against lighter night, but they could see from the tilt of his head he was thinking hard and fast.

“Say that we were traveling to meet up with the battle, as we had heard there was need for assistance…that we were traveling south on our way to Rome from Londinium. We were just coming upon the battle when the attack went on and we’re reporting to replace any lost. They won’t sneer at that.”

No one could come up with a better story, so upon agreeing to the general plot, the four began to pull themselves up from the brush and make their way down the hill. Stars were popping out in the wedges that were opening up between clouds, dusting the heavens with a surreal beauty that contrasted starkly with the death and destruction below. Brush thinned out to charred sticks and smoldering ash, the smell of burned wood already rancid in their noses. Flamed and ruined trees pierced the night air like haggard tokens of war. Deidre checked over the bundles she and Rachel carried, various items they had tucked away for barter and use. Diedre could tell Rachel was fretting over the details of the story already, even though she remained silent, picking her away down the slope as far from stray bodies as she could manage; and she was about to say something when Cort took Rachel by the shoulders and smoothed back her hair to calm her.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “There’s too much chaos to ask so many questions of us. I think all they’ll be interested in is who is still alive and whether or not they can replace the soldiers they lost.”

“Listen to him. It’ll be all right,” Diedre whispered to her, patting Rachel’s back. She had spotted one soldier making his way up the hill to meet them, presumably one of the leaders of a regiment. “I doubt they’ll be too interested in you and me, beyond what chores we can assist with in camp. It’s Cort and Terry that’ll have to answer specific questions.”

“Thanks, Dee, that makes me feel worlds better,” Rachel groused in sarcasm. Diedre took her hand and turned them both away from the approaching soldier to pretend they were interested in looking for more items to scavenge.

“Salve!” The soldier called. Even in the dark, they could hear the slight wonder and curiosity in his voice. “How close was the fighting for you?”

“Salve!” Terry replied, and Cort moved to hover behind him to indicate he was under Terry’s command. “Near enough to realize we missed the best part of it. We were on our way to assist when it began. We didn’t have time to position ourselves.”

“What standard are you under?”

“None here, I’m afraid. We were traveling south when we heard of your company preparing for battle. Have you need of replacements?”

Diedre felt herself grinning broadly in the dark. Terry sounded so smooth and casual in redirecting the subject, she was sure he would become angry if the soldier dared question what he said. She felt Rachel pull her hand away. A furry lump lay at her feet and she pulled at it to claim as a prize, but even in the vague starlight, it became obvious it was heavily soaked with blood. Rachel let it go with a moan and walked on.

“We do indeed,” she heard the soldier say, almost as if taken aback by Terry’s words, but too weary to pursue. “If you need encampment, report to the headquarters tent. But don’t count on much rest. Supplies and men are depleted and we have sore need of every soldier. Send your women to the other camp. They are looking for help as well.”

“We’ll find you,” Terry told them, brusquely, as Diedre looked in askance. She and Rachel headed off in the direction the soldier had pointed, trying to ignore the grotesque masks of death around them.

The field of battle gave way to a smaller vale tucked into a nook of the hill, tents lined in orderly precision like a mini-city, with the hub of the activity in the center where headquarters was stationed. Diedre wondered if Maximus were among those wandering about. There was more light here, as torches and campfires were blazing, and Diedre could see Rachel’s drawn expression, tight-lipped against the sounds of agony drifting over the tents. The wounded were in a tent somewhere on the far side of the camp, but the cries of pain could not be mistaken. The two women gripped each other's hand and hurried past to another clearing where a more haphazard cluster of tents held its own bustle.

“Just act as if all you were interested in was cooking,” Diedre muttered as they approached, a final pang of her own worry causing her to pause. They were dressed in simple tunics, colors drab and non-descript, a hope that by this very feature they would not be mistaken for anything other than char-maidens, or cooks, rather than prostitutes. Deidre could already spy a few of these lounging about, draped in yellow and orange, waiting for some survivors to take up their relief.

“A motley crew, aren’t they?” Rachel whispered before they plunged into the circle of tents. A large fire in the middle was tended by several women intent on their own business.

“Here! Come here and help us with these bowls! Get moving! Too many soldiers wanting their meal!” cried a rather large woman. She seemed to have appeared from nowhere. Grabbing Diedre and Rachel by the napes of their necks, she steered them towards a side tent where other women where in the process of filling bowls with steaming porridge. “You can get yourselves fed later,” the woman barked, almost shoving them into the waiting table.

With a shrug, Diedre began handing bowls to Rachel. They would have to wait until they could set up their own resting spot before worrying about what happened to Cort and Terry.

PART 7

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