[Barry W. Metcalf]

Chapter 9: Keeper of the Byway

Freya sat on the edge of the bed, naked, breastfeeding her baby. The infant ceased sucking and gazed up into its mother's face, its eyes wide and innocent. It burped, grinned and returned to its feeding. Freya returned the smile and, patting the baby's bottom, let her mind dwell on how much her life had changed in the past fifteen months.

After explaining the process of procreation to a wide-eyed Freya, the director had followed up by providing her with a huge collection of DVDs, which showed what she might expect from childbirth and how to care for the newborn. An avid student, Freya had watched them all several times over the period leading up to the birth. By the time the infant was due, she felt as though she'd become something of an expert.

On the wall vid-screen Tarzan and Jane placed their palms together, each bidding a sad farewell to the other. The miserable expressions on their cartoon faces reminded Freya of how she'd felt last time Janus had departed her room, more than a year ago.

Abruptly, the vid-movie dissolved, replaced by the head and shoulders of the Director of Earth Security.

"How are you today, my dear?" he said without preamble.

"Fine, daddy." Freya glanced up from the chubby face feeding at her breast and smiled.

"And the baby?" The director's brow creased in a frown.

"He continues to grow," said Freya, her tone denoting the happiness she felt. "We've managed to produce a healthy boy with which to commence the rebuilding of the human race."

The director's frown deepened.

"Alas, my dear," he said. "I wish the problem of re-populating the planet were that simple."

"Whatever do you mean?" asked Freya, her smile disappearing.

The director sighed.

"What we really needed was a girl, someone who could assist you with breeding duties when she's older," he said.

For the first time in months, Freya felt sadness wash over her.

"I did my best, daddy. I really did."

"I know you did, my dear." The director produced a wintry smile. "I'm not blaming you. What we need to do is return to the breeding schedule...to start again."

"Make another baby, daddy? Is that what you want?"

"That would make me very happy."

"I see." Freya paused while she swapped the infant to the other breast. When she again made eye contact with the director, her face had adopted a stubborn look. "Do you also wish to make me happy, daddy?" she asked.

Taken aback by the firm set of Freya's jaw, the director paused before responding. When he did, his voice denoted caution.

"Of course I do, my dear."

"Then send Janus to me. I will happily re-commence your breeding programme, but with no one other than Janus."

"But Freya...I...I planned to visit you tonight."

Freya thrust out her jaw even further, a defiant light entering her eyes.

"I mean it, daddy," she said. "I have learned many things since my son's conception. I now possess an understanding of my importance to your plans and what it would mean to them should I refuse. I will do as you ask...but only if Janus is the father."

Again the director considered before replying, his eyes steely, studying the girl.

"Very well, my dear." His voice and face had once again become expressionless. "It shall be as you request."

"When will you send Janus to me?"

"Tonight, my dear. There isn't a day to waste if my plan is to succeed."

"Thank you, daddy."

The vid-screen flickered again. The director's face disappeared, replaced by the image of a happy Jane wading through the water to rejoin her man.

Freya smiled. Removing the baby from her breast, she positioned him on her shoulder and patted his back. Her mind turned to thoughts of the evening to come.

***********

The Director of Earth Security sat at his desk and fumed, the vid-screen nearest him showing nothing but snow. He had problems enough with equipment failure throughout the complex without Freya turning against him, demanding he alter his plans just to please her. How dare she! After all I've done for her! Was the girl beginning to show signs of her traitorous nature, just as those women who'd gone before her all those years ago? Well, he'd dealt with them, had he not? He'd deal with Freya, too, but not until she'd served her purpose.

For now he'd give in to her, let her have her way. When the time came, when she'd produced a daughter, he'd dispose of her as he'd done with all the other women. In the meantime, he'd devise of way of handling the scheming Freya. There was more than one to break an upstart teenager who'd suddenly overstepped her boundaries.

He cursed and chose another channel, one of scores that'd once been at his disposal.

It made no difference.

No matter how many times he flicked through them, only five continued to provide a signal. Ten more of the original three hundred and seventy-five spy cameras had ceased functioning this week.

As he cursed, the air-conditioning sputtered and the lights flickered, the building heading towards an irrevocable shutdown. Three hundred years of neglect and obsolescence was taking its toll on the complex and the machinery that kept it functioning.

The director cursed again.

Months ago he'd summoned the top technos. They now worked around the clock, without sleep, surviving on pepto-tabs. But few machines remained from which to scavenge spare parts still in working order. The truth struck him like a blow from a hammer. After surviving the Hoojan War and worse, the equipment they'd inherited from the past had reached the end of its working life.

And nothing the most powerful man on Earth could do would change that.

Of those who remained alive on the planet, not one knew the secret of metals.

To make matters worse, the situation with his special agents had reached critical status.

Of the original twenty-four operatives with whom he'd commenced the year, only one remained. Janus Philk. For some reason beyond his powers of deduction, each one had failed to return alive from his last mission - except Janus. Twelve months ago, the agent despatched to Zargon with the serum for the cold virus had returned, dead. He'd frozen to death. One by one, the others had also died.

Was this the result of another equipment malfunction, or some kind of sabotage? Why, of all his agents, had Janus been the only one to return alive? Had Janus recovered his memory, and was he in the process of exacting revenge? Somehow, the director didn't think so. Certainly Janus had shown no signs of recalling his past since returning from Thurgolde.

No, Janus was not the source of this problem.

Yet Medico 1 and the upwardly mobile Operator 5 had investigated the Indoc systems. After eliminating the virus that'd triggered the original malfunction, neither had been able to find any cause for concern over the encoded material that prepared each agent prior to embarking on a mission. Since the problem had proved not in the programming, where then?

The implants at the base of each agent's skull had been tested and declared fully functional. Besides, the safety relay therein obviously worked. Each operative that'd died had returned home. Except Agent Starko. Was his disappearance and the death of the other agents linked, or simply coincidence? The director couldn't be sure.

In any case, the problem had become largely academic now that a single agent remained.

Could someone else be responsible for the increasing number of breakdowns over recent months? As if in answer, the air-conditioning ground to a halt, restarting again in a matter of seconds.

Somehow the director couldn't believe that any of the inhabitants of the building possessed the astuteness or the guile to be behind the latest problems. All had been chosen from the ranks of the villagers who'd survived the harsh conditions of the Wastelands, the intelligence of whom ranked on a scale with cattle. Everyone had received the same basic programming, including language skills and selected memories to permit them to function within the complex. Besides, their neuro-chip implants were designed to reduce free thought. It seemed unlikely any of the workers possessed the capabilities to undermine him, to plot against him.

Again the lights flickered as one of the vid-screens on his desk winked into life. He thumbed the communicator as the face of Operator 30 came into focus.

"Yes?" barked the director, his irritation showing.

"I've found something you'll want to see," said the operator, his voice devoid of all emotion, his face as expressionless as a store dummy.

"Go ahead." The director's voice held no trace of gratitude or pleasure.

"In one of the last coded reports from Agent Starko...well...it's only a reference really."

"Continue."

"It may take some time to fully unravel the message, but it seems he may have discovered the location of the secret of metals."

**********

"So you think the old man bought the idea you asked me to pass on to him?" Operator 30 sat with his back against the stone upright, letting sand filter through his fingers.

"Of course he did. The message from Agent Starko is, after all, quite genuine." Operator 5 stood on the other side of the megalith, studying an engraving on the lintel. Since his most recent promotion, earned for eliminating the mysterious virus that'd infected the Com-Servo, Operator 05 spent almost all his spare time studying and puzzling over the operation of the rough structure, convinced it was a portal to a better place.

"How did you get your hands on it?" Operator 30 glanced up at his companion and winced. With the powerful, overhead lights behind him, Operator 5's head was surrounded by a bright halo, making his features indistinct.

"The message arrived last year, during the search for a vaccine to fight the virus. Because it didn't relate to the current search, Operator 1 filed it away for future reference. After he was executed, its existence was overlooked. I came across it while engaged in quite another search." Operator 5 spoke without taking his eyes from the object of his study.

"And why did you suggest I inform the director about it now?" Operator 30 stood, brushing sand from the legs of his pink coverall.

"To earn you a promotion...and to buy us some time, of course. While we work on the secret of operating this portal." Operator 5 spoke in the matter-of-fact manner of a teacher instructing his student.

Will it take you long to decode the message?" Operator 30 walked to where his companion stood.

"It's already done." Operator 5 glanced down at the computer printout in his hand, then back again at the lintel.

"But how will that buy us time?"

"We'll pretend you're having difficulty with the code." Operator 5's tone remained patient as he explained his plan. "If we play this right it could take another six to nine months before we need to pass on the information. The director will never know. When the time comes, Agent Philk will be dispatched off planet, giving us all the time in the world to complete our project and leaving no one who might interfere with our plans."

"Do you know how it works yet?" asked Operator 30. "The portal, I mean."

"It has something to do with the sun...something about its alignment. Don't fret...I'm this far," and Operator 5 held his thumb and first finger slightly apart, "from finding the solution." He grinned at his friend and pocketed the printed diagram. "C'mon, it's time we were getting back to the upper level."

**********

Janus listened to his superior without interrupting.

For the first time in many years, the agent felt contentment, the inner turmoil of his life fading to a distant memory. It had been more than a year since the emergency involving the influenza virus. In that time there'd been no new crises with which to deal. Every night for the past six months, he'd been with Freya, holding her, making love to her. He couldn't recall ever feeling happier.

Without the other males in the community to feel jealous about, he felt at peace with himself and, because of this, with all those around him. When not with Freya, Janus dwelled on the hours they'd spent together. Now as he sat in his quarters, his mind pre-occupied with other matters, he only half listened to the director's instructions.

Last night Freya had informed him that she'd again fallen pregnant. If the child carried to term, it would be only the second born naturally in over two hundred years. A feeling of optimism suffused him. The future of mankind once again seemed assured. The single remaining woman on the planet had ensured that with her pregnancy.

And Janus was the father.

In whispered phrases as they lay in bed holding one another, so close their breath fanned the other's face, Freya had also spoken of how she'd been hiding the fact from the director for more than four months, not wishing him to curtail their time together as he'd done with her earlier pregnancy. Medico 1, who performed the monthly tests, ascertaining Freya's health and monitoring her progress, had been easy to fool. She'd been supplying him with her son's urine samples in place of her own, removing all chance of discovery.

Freya warned Janus, however, that the old man was bound to discover her condition at almost any time, when the bulge in her stomach grew too obvious to hide. She wished to continue, of course, seeing Janus as long as the deception lasted.

Sitting in his quarters, the director's words washing over him with less effect than a ray of light, Janus relived his last night with Freya.

He marvelled again at the softness of her skin as she lay naked beneath him; the openness of her wide, green eyes and how they mirrored his; how her breathing had grown ragged, matching his, stroke for stroke; and how they'd cried out together at the moment of release. Somewhere, deep within the recesses of his mind, Janus recalled another time and coupling with another woman. Yet now, as he sat before the vid-screen, his mind dwelling on the previous evening, he could no longer be sure whether this was fantasy or not.

The director, lost in his diatribe, appeared not to notice Janus' inattentiveness. The old man said something about rediscovering the lost secret of metals, machinery falling into disrepair at a faster and faster rate, and technos who could no longer scavenge parts to keep the complex functioning. It all seemed unimportant to Janus, failing to penetrate the euphoria he felt at having been responsible for Freya's latest fertilisation.

The director's voice droned on. They'd been provided with a glimmer of hope. Gleaned from the transcript of a report by the deceased Agent Starko, the secret supposedly resided on the distant planet, Thurgolde.

All the director required was for Janus to undergo the indoctrination process, and the mission could begin.

**********

Thurgolde, the planet of fire, was unlike any place Janus had visited.

Not only hot, but the air reeked of sulphur fumes, making the atmosphere unbreathable by beings such as himself. Flames leapt high into the air from every fissure and crack, dark clouds of smoke blocking out the sun, trapping heat and gases beneath their covering blanket. In addition, the surface of the planet bubbled and flared in a constant state of flux, the heat generated beneath the crust producing a surface that had the same consistency as mud. Very hot mud.

Perspiration ran in rivulets down his face as the heat sucked his life-juices from him. He knew he had to find water and find it soon, but where did one search for drinkable fluids on a planet where the heat turned liquids to vapour in a matter of minutes, where the gases of the atmosphere tainted all surfaces they touched?

As he plucked his feet yet again from the grip of the mire threatening to swallow him, he turned his mind inwards. He willed his body not to perspire, controlling the flood of fluids from his pores. His perspiration level under control, Janus next turned his attention to the aching in his legs. Hours of trudging through the ankle-deep mud that formed the planet's most common surface had sucked the strength from his finely tuned muscles. Nevertheless, Janus willed the flow of oxygen to his legs to increase, sending vital supplies where he most needed them. At the same time, he monitored his production of lactic acid, ensuring it didn't reach critical levels.

With his memories buried deep beneath his programming, Janus gave no thought to the unique control his mind exerted over his body and its functions. Unknown to him, it was part of the reason he had survived while other agents had perished when faced with similar adverse conditions.

Not for the first time he contemplated using the wings he wore. A souvenir from the planet Hooja, he'd worn them in the event the inhabitants of this planet proved hostile and attacked him. Rumour had it they could fly. He rejected the idea of using the appendages at present as impracticable, for the denseness of the sulphur in the atmosphere made it impossible to see more than a few metres. The wings, he hoped, would be of assistance later in his quest, and he deemed it best not to exhaust the power pack too soon.

Of course, the fact that Janus could breathe at all, here on this distant planet with its hostile atmosphere, demonstrated ingenuity and adaptability had not completely died in the society from which he'd journeyed.

Just minutes before the Earth agent had teleported to Thurgolde, Medico 1 had handed him a strange device. Until now, visiting a planet with a non-breathable atmosphere had meant carrying oxygen supplies and masks. In fact, it had been these items with which Janus had been about to embark when approached by the high-ranking medico.

"Try this, Agent Philk," the medico had instructed, holding out a small object for Janus to take. When Janus had accepted the proffered item, Medico 1 continued, "With this little device you'll be able to breathe the atmosphere of any planet...no matter how noxious."

Janus looked at the article lying in the palm of his hand. To him it looked like two gelatinous pills connected by a curved piece of allum-alloy.

"What do I do with it?" he asked, his voice quizzical.

"Insert the two filters into your nasal cavities," said Medico 1.

Janus did as directed. He ignored the small discomfort this caused.

"That's right," said the medico when Janus had done as instructed. "The allum-alloy will mould itself to the shape of your nose and hold the filters in place."

"What do I do now?" asked the agent.

"Breathe, Agent Philk. Breathe normally. The filters will convert any gases to oxygen."

Programmed to trust his fellow workers and obey the instructions of his superiors, Janus had not hesitated in creating an image of his destination in his mind. In an instant he teleported to that location. The new invention from the technos had been as good as Medico 1 had promised. Despite the sulphurous nature of the atmosphere, Janus had been able to breathe as well as if he'd been a native inhabitant of Thurgolde.

None of which brought him any closer to the fulfilment of his mission. Letting his mind review the information with which he'd been implanted during indoctrination, Janus trudged on.

The Director of Earth Security had instructed him to travel to Thurgolde to investigate the veracity of a report that the inhabitants of the fiery planet had visited Earth in its infancy. It had been further stated that these inhabitants had imparted to the early humans the technology for making and shaping metals. In this way they'd assisted early man, starting him on the road to industrialisation. Now, more than three hundred years after the Hoojan War, there remained no one on Earth who possessed the knowledge to forge metals or manufacture machinery.

The skills of the people of Janus' time had developed along other lines, mainly biological and mental. By discovering a process whereby aluminium atoms could be grafted to biological nuclei, they'd developed alum-alloy and bio-aluminium. These two products constituted most of the requirements of their society.

The demand for the ancient manufacturing of metals and associated skills had now reached critical importance. Janus had been instructed to acquire this knowledge, if it existed at all, and return with it to Earth. If successful, these skills could be imparted to the people of his home planet. If he failed, the survivors of the human race would have to face the harsh environmental conditions without machines.

And he knew he must not fail for the sake of his unborn child. His mating with Freya had been successful; and the entire world depended on the birth. Would it be a girl this time?

All of a sudden, a searing blast of heat shattered Janus' reverie.

Even when in deep thought, a part of Janus' brain remained alert, primed for instant action. As the first effects of the heat blast registered on his senses, the Earth agent reacted to the danger it forecast.

One hand moved to the hilt of his las-sword, while he activated his wings with his mind. The blade of the sword flared into life even as he unclipped it from his belt, and his wings beat with powerful strokes. Janus rose upwards and away from the blistering onslaught. As he did so, his eyes searched for the source of the discharge.

Despite his quick reflexes, he didn't escape unscathed. The hairs on the backs of his hands and fingers curled and shrivelled in the intense heat. The outer edges of the hair on his skull did likewise. And the skin of his ears, nose and cheeks reddened with exposure to the flames. Fortunately, his bio-aluminium battle costume bore the brunt of the attack, saving him from major injury.

Through the haze of sulphur and smoke, Janus caught a glimpse of what appeared to be an enormous animal standing atop an outcrop of semi-solid rock not ten metres from where he'd been standing. At first he took the creature to be a serpent of some kind, for its long neck and head most resembled such an animal. However, as the mist of steam and sulphur gas wafted to and fro around it, Janus could discern its four legs, wings and long, slashing tail.

He wondered what kind of creature he'd disturbed.

Of its hostility he had no doubt, for both its bearing and the wild thrashing of its tail evinced such an attitude. Janus could now see the rear appendage came to a point, and where it flattened, its shape resembled a huge arrowhead. Its head, too, was flat and somewhat resembled that of a crocodile. The nose, however, far from blunt, ended in a curved, pointed beak. Its red eyes glowed in yellow surrounds from high atop its head. And from its mouth a long, red, forked tongue tasted the air, searching for a scent.

Janus hovered, slowing his wing beats to get a better view of this creature.

The scales covering its upper body were pale green in colour. When it reared up and hissed in his direction, those on its lower body were cream. The ribs that gave its wings their shape possessed the same colour as its upper scales, while the thin membranes between these bones were cream.

All in all, it seemed the most colourful and fearsome creature Janus could recall encountering.

The Dragon - Janus now recognised it as such from numerous illustrations he'd studied whilst scanning data in the library at the Government Complex - observed him with baleful eyes and flapped its huge wings.

"Who dares disturb the slumber of Kayra, Keeper of the Byway?" it roared at him in a deep, hoarse voice. As it spoke, small flames spurted from its mouth and smoke drifted in thin tendrils from its nostrils. "Speak your business or prepare to defend yourself."

Nothing in Janus' browsing had prepared him for the fact that the Dragon could speak. He was, for once in his life, taken aback by this development. However, he recovered quickly before the creature could spurt more flame.

"I seek the secrets of metals," he called, wondering if Dragons had always possessed the power of speech. He'd read that they'd inhabited the Earth thousands of years ago. Nowhere was it recorded that they could converse with Humans. "Can you direct me to someone who knows these secrets?"

In an endeavour to show the creature he meant it no harm, Janus deactivated his sword and clipped it back on his belt. Although smoke continued to drift from the Dragon's nostrils, Janus no longer felt threatened by the beast.

The Dragon cocked its head on one side, surveying him carefully before it answered. Eventually it said, "Ah...we've been expecting you."

"Expecting me?"

"Your arrival has been foretold..." The Dragon squinted at him. "My eyesight is not a good as it once was...but I see you are exactly as described. I must apologise for my brusque greeting."

Confusion flooded through Janus. How could this creature have known he'd be here? What manner of being possessed the power to forecast the future?

"Who has foretold my coming?" he asked.

"Ah...that would be telling...but I may say no more. The one who can assist you is named Merlin. Follow the byway that commences on the far side of my sentry point...follow it for about half a league. You'll find he whom you seek in the dwelling at its end."

"Thank you," said Janus. He had no idea how far half a league might be, but he guessed it couldn't be too far. Besides, the Dragon's comments about expecting him filled him with curiosity.

He winged his way past the Dragon atop its rock, and alighted on the barely discernable track. Without the Dragon's assistance, he would never have found it. Although not wide, the path was much more solid than the ground around it.

The Dragon nodded to Janus as he passed, then curled itself into a ball - much like a cat settling on a mat - and returned to its slumber.

Although the temperature remained hot and the air filled with smoke tinted with sulphur, which seemed to hover a few centimetres above the surface, Janus found the going much easier once on the rude pathway. His thirst, on the other hand, had grown to painful proportions. He concentrated on subduing the sensation and continued forward.

Suddenly, he rounded a bend and stopped. Before him, where the track ended, stood what he took to be an enormous old castle, complete with spires and minarets. Clusters of smaller towers stood at the base of a central column, the top of which sharpened almost to a point before disappearing from view inside an enormous, black cloud. At irregular intervals in the face of the main tower, rough openings appeared through which the man discerned strange red lights that flickered, waxing and waning as though fanned by wind. Whenever the redness grew in strength, a yellow-grey vapour billowed from the openings.

Without taking his eyes from the castle, Janus walked towards it.

The structure reminded Janus of something he'd seen sometime in the past. He struggled with some fragment of memory that attempted to rise from the murky depths of his mind but, like so many other recollections, failed to surface. Perhaps he'd seen such a building while browsing in the library. As he got closer, however, he discovered it less like a castle, but rather more like a gigantic termite's nest, hundreds of metres tall, black smoke billowing from its heights.

A sudden wind shift cleared the yellow smudge, until now obscuring the base of this construction, revealing the presence of a Human. The latter, his back towards Janus, seemed engrossed in what lay before him, stirring the contents of a large cauldron hanging suspended on a metal rod over a small fire.

**********

"I tell you...he can't see or hear us," Operator 5 said to his companion, a trace of irritation entering his voice.

"How can you be sure?" Despite his partner's constant reassurance, Operator 15 remained unconvinced. Since he'd received his recent promotion for decoding the data left by Agent Starko, Operator 15 had become more wary than ever. The basement housing the megalith was the only place within the building where he felt safe from the director's prying eyes and ears.

"Because over the past six months I've completely deactivated his remaining spy-cams." Operator 5's voice sounded smug, full of self-importance. Once again they sat inside Operator 15's quarters, drinking coffee and eating chocolate.

"How did you...oh, the computer," said Operator 15, realisation hitting him like a cold shower. "That bloody computer'll be the death of us."

Operator 5 laughed. Operator 15 knew his friend enjoyed the risks and recognised the signs of a system high on adrenalin. Operator 5 had stated openly how life within the Government Complex - the same routine day in day out, performing tasks set by their superior, going nowhere without permission - had become so boring.

"It'll be our salvation," Operator 5 said. He produced another block of chocolate from his pocket, and handed it to Operator 15.

"How so?" Operator 15 took the gift, but the edginess he felt didn't leave him. His companion's blase attitude worried him.

"From now on we can move about the complex at will. The director can no longer monitor us anywhere."

"I'm sure he has his means." Operator 15 remained unconvinced. Out of habit he glanced over his shoulder.

Operator 5 ignored the comment and the nervous reaction.

"Besides, I expect the computer to help us solve the mystery of the megalith," he said.

"What about Agent Philk?"

"What about him?" Operator 5 paused in mid-bite, a puzzled expression on his face.

"How did he return from Zargon?"

"I don't know," Operator 5 said. For the first time a trace of uncertainty entered his voice.

"I thought you..."

"I did. The indoctrination process had been sabotaged. He shouldn't..."

"What about the virus found and eliminated by you and Medico 1?"

"Oh, that was real enough. Someone had tampered with the Com-Servo long before I started tinkering with it. Anyway, those glitches have been eradicated." Operator 5 shrugged. "As for what I've done...let's just say that there's no one who possesses the knowledge to locate the real changes I made in the encoded material."

"Then how? Is there any way Agent Philk can override the programming?" Operator 15, not one to let his colleague rest until all aspects had been investigated, pushed for an answer.

"I wouldn't have thought so."

"I don't like it."

Operator 5 shrugged. As always, he seemed secure in his own knowledge.

"I don't think he'll bother us," he said. "We'll be long gone by the time he returns from Thurgolde."

"Gone?" Operator 15's brow furrowed with perplexity.

"The portal."

"Portal...where to?"

"I'm not sure...anywhere to get out of this prison. I can't take much more of this...living in a dying community...trapped on a dead planet...ordered around by a crazy man..."

"How?"

"I'm on to something...we'll have it solved before Agent Philk returns."

Operator 15 broke a large chunk from his chocolate block. He placed it in his mouth, chewed it and washed it down with coffee.

"I hope so," he said. "I hope so." He sounded unconvinced.

Part 11