Chapter 30

He was not disappointed. The case contained a daily newspaper and a personal letter.

The newspaper had a headline: TERROR GROUP ARRESTED: SCIENTISTS RESCUED. The story went on to claim that as a result of a tip-off, the FBI had stormed an industrial site at an unnamed location in Greater New York, where the terror cell were developing a plot to further their aim of undermining the government.

The scientists were described as being held captive and made to work on a machine that the cell hoped would achieve their dastardly ends; a nicely vague description, John thought. One of the terrorist group had been killed and three others injured, and one FBI operative was injured. An undercover FBI operative was still missing, the paper reported. A spokesman for the FBI revealed a concern for her safety, as she had not reported back for several days prior to the storming of the site, but all efforts were being put into searching for her. The scientists were being questioned, in case they knew something about her disappearance. The spokesman said that four other people known to have been at the site earlier were not to be found, but may have left earlier without being noticed.

Local residents described seeing a number of animals being taken into the facility over the last week or so, but it is unknown what relevance this had to the terrorists plans. The FBI reportedly found no animals inside the building.

The remainder of the news article was mere padding, trying to identify who the scientists were and what the mysterious machine was, that was purported to be part of the group’s plot. It ended with a reference to the editorial. That piece gave no additional information, merely commenting on the FBI secrecy, and why Homeland Security did not appear to have been involved in the operation.

John put the paper down. The basic facts were clear to him. The failure of their operative to report had spurred the FBI to storm the building and take down the group immediately. Perhaps the scientists would be able to explain what had happened to the missing people and the reported animals, but they might not have been in the immediate vicinity when the people were sent. John may have been the only one likely to have been seen in that way. But again, the scientists may want to disguise their machine for what it was, to enable them to continue to work on it.

John guessed they would try a scientific fudge, bamboozling the FBI with terminology that didn’t make much sense. That would stop the FBI for a while, until they brought in their own science experts, then things might get interesting.

He turned to the letter, and opened the containing envelope. The missive was hand-written, and said,

“To whom it may concern, and may survive by this time: The enclosed newspaper will inform you of the outline of what has happened, but we know remarkably little for all our expertise. The machine was experimental, intended to examine the potential for time travel – but backwards only, is our estimation – and so we were unaware of what might occur when we used it. The terrorist cell must have had an insider reporting to them, for they walked in and took over our operation. They seemed to know too much for outsiders, so they must have had someone reporting to them on progress.

As best as we can gather, they intended to send people back in time to change the past, and thus change the present. Their spy – still unidentified, and we hope it was not one of our team – had located a cave and made some alterations to allow basic messages to be sent and received. The people being sent back were to be inoculated with what we believe were nanites, but that resource must have been supplied by their spy, for we had none of that in our possession.

Whatever they had tried to do with their advance soldier, nothing seemed to be changed in the present. They sent back additional personnel, two women – one as a reward to their representative, but the other just to get rid of her, as she was a nuisance to them. They were sent as additional test subjects, but the messages they got back were not very informative, just telling them that someone was replying and asking for more material.

As a result, we can only guess that some of you are alive. If you have done things that should affect the future, there has been no sign of changes, so in that case we are proposing that you are in an alternative timeline and that your future is not our present. Your future will be up to yourselves.

An alternative timeline suggests that the machine cannot be used as a present-altering device, so will not be useful to the DOD as a weapon, but they may demand that we try to to make it one. On that basis, do not expect any more help from this time period. We are randomly altering our machine settings, and destroying any records of what our settings were, so that the FBI or DOD cannot interfere with you as from now.

This means that while you are on your own, you will not be interfered with. Your future is up to you.

Good luck.

There was a scribbled unclear signature at the bottom, from whomever the scientists had elected to send the letter.

John sat back and reflected on this news. They were definitely on their own from now on, it was clear. They could not expect guns or ammunition in future, so what little bits and pieces they had were their total assets. They would have to face the invaders with that, and their own native personnel and equipment.

Should he tell Vickie and Sheila? Should he NOT tell them? They will be asking shortly.

He decided that as they had already accepted there was no return to their own time, it would make little difference to let them know. In fact, they might be glad to hear that the project was a failure.

He looked up, from where he sat, and found a trio of women watching him: Numa, Vickie, and Sheila, all with expectant faces. He gave them a hesitant smile, and beckoned them over.

“Girls, back where we came from, it is over. Let me show you a newspaper headline.”

He pulled out from the case the item he meant, and opened it to show the cover page. Two exclaimed at the headline, while Numa exclaimed at the object itself; a wonder she had never seen before. The actual words meant nothing to her.

John gave them a moment to view the story, then told them, “There is a covering letter, from one of the scientists. He says – or perhaps I should say ‘he or she says’, for the signature is indecipherable, that the machine settings are being altered by them so that there is no way to send anyone back to exactly where and when we are; we will not be bothered from back then.

That in turn means no items sent through to help us; we are on our own.

On the plus side, they have concluded that we are starting a new timeline and so what happens here won’t distort the facts where and when they are. That means that whatever we do, and other humans do, it will be OUR world, and only our world. We can’t affect any pre-existing future.”

Vickie asked anxiously, “They can’t bring us back to where we started?”

“Nope. It is a one-way system only, so we have to live with it.”

Vickie declared, “Good. I like our family here: no bitchiness.”

Sheila added a query: “What made them raid the facility?”

“I am sure they were looking to rescue their FBI agent, but they didn’t find her, naturally, for she is here. They will end up presuming she was killed and her body disposed of, though there will be no evidence to prove it either way, even if anyone admits to what happened. The way I read the letter, the scientists didn’t seem to know about Jean Harris being an FBI agent, and her being dumped here; they would only know she was no longer around.”

“Hadn’t we better tell her about this?” Sheila offered.

John saw what she meant, and nodded. “I’ll tell her, if you can send her over to me. I don’t think she will be happy at knowing she is now officially missing, believed dead, even though I told her that was likely to be the case. I think she is still in denial to some extent.”

Vickie agreed. “I think that is the case. She keeps talking of not committing herself to you or any other man; she imagines it will all turn out to be a bad dream or something similarly anodyne. She needs to face the truth; that she is here for life, and has to put up with it as best she can ... and the best is to be married to you, just like the rest of us from her time. You are the best option for anyone from our period.”

John still worried, “She does not seem to like the idea of having children here, I noticed. Is it just the idea of me as their father, or is she against having children, full stop, or what?”

Vickie ticked him off. “John, my dear man; you have to put yourself in her position. She was a career professional, expecting to spend her life fighting crime. She had put the notion of marriage and motherhood on the back burner, and convinced herself therefore that she did not need to have children to be fulfilled.

Being tossed into a stone age situation, unable to use her training here, she is feeling depressed and useless. Telling her that her only option is motherhood is not going to play well with her. Perhaps if you convince her that she would make a good warrior, that would help her to adjust.”

“Hmmm ... now that is an idea. How much fighting training do FBI agents get, do you know?”

“No idea. You’ll have to ask her yourself.”

John nodded, and waited to speak with her once she appeared. Sheila was first back with news.

“John, we found Jean moping around, not knowing what to do with herself. We said that you had news from home, and she brightened up. Then we said that she would be stuck here forever, and her face fell again. Vickie told her to prepare herself to face the facts when you passed them on, so she is pacing around outside, before coming to see you. Vickie will come with her, for support.”

“Good for Vickie. Thanks for your help too, Sheila. I hope Jean gets over her funk.”

Finally the FBI agent appeared before John, while Numa kept herself out of direct sight. Numa saw this as a problem only for people from the future. For herself, she had expanded her horizons and gained in power and influence, so could see nothing but good from the appearance in this time of John and these women.

Jean marched up to the seated John and stood at attention.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

John was surprised at being treated this way, then remembered that as High Chief, he was top dog in this society, and Jean Harris, as a senior FBI agent, was acting accordingly. He replied in kind.

“Yes, Agent Harris. Please sit down, so we are at the same height.”

He waited until she sat cross-legged, and continued, “We have received intelligence that the FBI raided the facility where you were working undercover, and took down the perpetrators. I understand the spur to going in was your failure to report back. They suspected you had been unmasked and, at a minimum, detained. They found no trace of you, but are still searching. As you are here, and not there, they will be unsuccessful in finding you, alive or dead, unless one of the terrorists admit to what they did with you. As that would be tantamount to killing you, in the eyes of the FBI, the terrorists will be loath to reveal that fact. They will also not want to say what they knew about the machine. That machine has a flavour of magic about it, and even the scientists who built it are still unsure of its capabilities.

Another factor is that the machine that was used to send you, me, Vickie and Sheila to here is a one-way mechanism. A letter that came from one of the scientists, along with the newspaper, confirmed that fact, which means that we are all here for life. We make do, or die; it is our choice.

That fact makes us responsible for our own actions in this era. I was a former soldier, so I have been applying my training to the present-day conditions, with the intention of improving conditions for both us and the local populace. I hope that you can help in the same way with your FBI training.”

“I am prepared to contribute in that way, High Chief.”

“As you will be aware, we have almost no firearms, and little ammunition, so I wanted to ask you what hand-to-hand combat training you were given by the FBI. Can you tell me?”

“Sir, I have to inform you that we were not given training in unarmed combat, other than what could be used to take down and restrain any criminal who was resisting address.”

“No official training in any of the techniques of ju-jutsu, krav maga, judo, aikido, or any other unarmed combat system?”

“No, sir. We were expected to take down the criminals with our issued weapons, on the assumption that the targets were armed with guns. In close quarter situations, we were expected to remove the weapons from the criminals in the prescribed manner, then restrain them with handcuffs. Unarmed combat was seen as an unnecessary extra, as agents might get hurt in the process, or the criminal might get injured, causing the agent to be investigated for unnecessary violence, but agents could learn any of these techniques on their own if they wanted.”

“Ah. Did you take up that option?”

“In part. I had started classes in aikido at a local dojo, to help with apprehending criminals: it has ways of disarming enemies without injuring them; but I had not advanced far before I was detailed to take up my current infiltration duty, so my knowledge of the sport is minimal.”

“That is more than Vickie or Sheila know, so if you don’t mind, will you teach them what you learned at your classes? It will be useful for them to be able to use these to protect themselves. Once they know what you can teach them, the three of you can start on the other warriors, for I would like all of our warriors to know the basics of self-defence techniques.”

She seemed surprised at what John was saying. “I thought you were a soldier, so you should know about close combat fighting.”

“I do, but not aikido. I was taught the British style of down and dirty fighting. Our intention with an enemy was to injure or kill them; to render them hors de combat as fast as possible. They were assumed to be enemy soldiers or terrorists, much the same in our book. The SAS used any and all methods where the situation warranted it, but our general policy is be not seen and not heard if at all possible. Much of our time is spent in intel gathering. We watch, listen, gather info, then use that later to execute decisive strikes at the enemy.”

“I had better stay on your good side, then...”

John gave a brief laugh, “I don’t fight girls, Jean. I know when I am outclassed. You girls use methods that are dangerous to men. I want to be able to father more children, not lose that ability.”

She became serious again, at the thought of children, and John as father.

“So I am stuck here; no reprieve?”

“None, I am sorry to say. We are all in this together, and it would be good if we all worked together to make a go of it.”

She resorted to business mode.

“How much ammo do you have for your automatic rifle?”

“Not a lot, perhaps a few crates in total; check for yourself. The ammunition is stored with the rifle. It is pretty restricted, so I am working on the basis of single shot use, to conserve what we have. Once it is gone, it is gone forever. We can’t even reload our cartridges; no materials.”

“Makes sense, I suppose. No exceptions to the one-shot rule?”

“Only if your life depended on it, and you were being rushed by a mob. Saving the last few rounds is no good if you are dead as a result.”

“Okay. What other modern weapons do you have?”

“A number of survival knives. Rambo-style. They are all-purpose tools, intended for field use when you have nothing else. The handle includes a fire starter kit and a compass – which seems to work here – and a few other design features which I will be happy to show you, such as a fishing line with hooks. I haven’t tried fishing yet. Oh, and you can strap the knife to the end of a long stick, to make a spear, but the locals make pretty good flint spears themselves.”

“What about these bows and arrows that have been appearing? Are they new?”

“They are, but locally made. Do you know anything about archery?”

“Some. My brother was an archer, and did quite well in local competitions. He gave me some training, but it was with modern metal recurved bows; nothing like what you have here.”

“Have you used a crossbow?” John wanted to know.

“Yes, at least I have tried out one or two at my brother’s shoots. They weren’t very good at long distance, but for short distances, they were excellent.”

“Good. I have a spare one that you can have. I use mine mostly to take down game, but sometimes I have used it on humans. It works on them too.”

“As long as you only use it on bad guys.”

John smiled. “You have it in one.”

Sheila says you have a rocket launcher,” she said accusingly. John held up his hands.

“We have one, repeat, one, but only a couple of rounds for it. I used the other rounds in attacking a ship. It is a unique weapon for unique circumstances.”

“All right. I will ignore it. Do you intend to fuck me?”

John took this non sequitur in his stride.

“Jean, if you decide you want me to father your children, then we will make love. That will include fucking, but it will be done as an act of pleasure for you as well as for me. I don’t have any need to fuck girls for fucking’s sake; my wives ensure that I am already fully satisfied.

It will be an act between a husband and a wife. You are under no pressure to decide anything for the moment, but eventually the locals will expect you to make a decision regarding a man for you. Please discuss this with all the girls who are married to me, before deciding what you might be letting yourself in for. You might fancy a local man instead but remember that polygamy is an accepted family style for men. I have seen no sign of polyandry. Think about it.”

“I will. Do you fancy me, or think of me as just another woman?”

“You are never ‘just another woman’. You will see what I mean shortly, as I am led to believe that my pheromones have been tweaked to make me more attractive to women who get close to me. For most women, it is simply a matter of finding me more acceptable as a tribal leader, but for my wives and for those who started out as concubines, it is more intense. It also makes me feel more strongly for them in return, so it acts in both directions. None of my wives see anything to complain about, and nor do I.

I am telling you this, so that you can be assured that marriage to me will not be a disappointment.”

“Are you saying that, should I marry a local man, I would not be happy?”

“Not at all. It is more of a warning that should you decide on me, you are almost guaranteed happiness with me. There are no guarantees with anyone else, but if you pick the right man, you could indeed by happy; as happy as any normal couple would be.”

“Well, you have laid out your cards fairly, High Chief. I can’t say fairer than that.”

“Don’t take my word for it. Quiz my ladies to get a better handle on it.”

“I will. Can I take part in your archery lessons, and get a knife to practice with?”

“Certainly. Your FBI background is enough for me to trust you with weapons. You can even try out the automatic rifle for familiarity with the weapon, but without any live firing.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“If there are no other questions, dismissed, Agent Harris.”

“Only one thing: can I read the scientist’s letter?”

“Yes, whenever you like, but without taking it away. It is part of our archives for the future.”

“That is a good idea. I can fit in with that rule.”

“Very well. Dismissed.”

“Thank you, sir.”

She left, and John mused that she had adapted by transferring her FBI loyalty to him as High Chief. Well, it was one way of coping with the new surroundings and the lack of any of her previous referents. It would be a first step in adjusting, so give her time, he told himself.

His archery class today had some new additions; warriors who had not yet attempted the bow and arrow, so he had to start again at the basics for them while letting the others continue with their practice. The regular practice was essential for getting their accuracy and distance up to an acceptable level, so if he could get an assistant up to instructor level, it would help him immensely.

When Jean Harris sidled in among the newbies, he got them all to line up and asked a question.

“All those who have handled a bow before now, put your hand up.”

No-one did, then he remembered and looked in Jean’s direction to repeat himself in English. This time she put her hand up, while the others simply had blank looks on their faces. He explained to them, “Our new girl doesn’t speak the local language yet, so I have to repeat things in her language. Please ignore these times, but it appears she has used a bow.”

This got him wry smiles, for they understood the problem of language, for they had heard of other languages. They were glad that all this area spoke the one language, making normal transactions simpler.

He was in the middle of the training when the messenger from the fishers arrived. It was Fresno this time, and John welcomed him with a grin.

“Hi, Fresno. Welcome again. Have you news for us?”

“Your scout, Corvo, is back again, looking for you. Will you come?”

“Not at the moment, Fresno. I have an archery class to deal with, so it may be the morning before I can go. You might as well stay the night and join me going back. That will give you a chance to get together with Jenka.”

That elicit another grin from the lad, for Jenka was his girlfriend in John’s tribe, and hopefully his wife eventually.

“I suppose I will just have to put up with the delay, High Chief John,” he said with a beaming smile on his face. “I had best go and clean myself up. Do you have soap to spare for a bedraggled messenger?”

“I am sure we can help out, Fresno. Why don’t you ask Jenka for that soap, and some hair shampoo? She might even be willing to help you get clean.”

The young man bounded off to find his friend Jenka. John was happy to encourage these two to get together again. Fresno had to tell her about his other love as well, but John was sanguine about that; the locals were okay with polygamy, for such families tended to be supportive of each other and all the children produced.

John returned to the archery, and refused to be diverted by questions about Fresno and Jenka. He insisted on single-mindedness when it came to archery practice.

“Archery demands your full attention, and particularly where a simultaneous arrow attack is required. You have to be able to devote attention to what YOU are doing, while you are co-ordinating it with the rest of the archers. The impact of a shower of arrows is greater if they all land together. It means that no-one can escape your attack by watching for late arrows arriving. Your attack either hits them all, or it is a partial failure. I want MY warriors to be always together when they fire as a shower of arrows.

There is another extra you will have to learn: using fire arrows at night. These will have resinous lumps stuck or tied just below the arrow head, and you will light the lump just before firing the arrow. We will practice with these – unlit of course – so that you become used to the different balance that these arrows will have, and know the slight reduction in distance, but you will partly compensate by firing at a higher angle.

The trick for firing arrows at night is to know that if you use a standard pull that you are familiar with, at a known angle upwards, it will go for a standard distance – give or take a pace or two. We will try to get to that distance from the target, and then our fire arrows should land on the target tent or tents.

Do you all see the idea?”

There were many nods, but Jean Harris wasn’t buying it. She put up a hand, and John fell for it.

“Yes, Ms. Harris?”

“How long do you expect it to take for us all to get that level of excellence, starting from scratch?”

John retorted, “How long is a piece of string? We shall just have to see, as we progress. I don’t need a hundred archers to do the job I envisage, but a dozen or so, firing two arrows each, should manage to put the fear of G ... the Earth Mother up them!

Now, can we get started on this practice, please?”

Once the archery session was over, John went over to Numa to brief her on his departure on the morning for the Fisher village, to meet Corvo and exchange information with him. She knew this would happen, just not when, so she said that his travel pack would be prepared for him.

Leaving Numa, he was soon collared by Fresno, accompanied by Jenka.

“High Chief, I have told Jenka about Cleema, and she would like to come with me to meet Cleema. If they get on, they will both become my wives.”

John smiled. “That sounds great, Fresno. Have you decided where you will live?”

“At the fishing village to begin with, sir, for they are letting me hunt for them, and they seem satisfied with my efforts so far,” he informed John. “If I can become the permanent hunter for the village, that will be enough of a contribution for the village to recognise my two wives, and I can get that formalised.”

“Excellent! Are you happy with this man, Jenka, as a husband-to-be?”

“Oh, yes, High Chief! Chief Numa has already blessed us, while you were at the archery business.”

“Very well. Ask Chief Numa for travel packs for tomorrow, at my request. I want to get away as soon as we can manage it.”

Thinking about being away most of tomorrow, John visited Jean Harris and asked the FBI agent if she could take over the beginners class the next day, while he was absent.

Surprised and pleased, she accepted, and leaned forward to kiss John on the cheek.

“Thanks for trusting me, High Chief.”

John grinned his pleasure, and told her, “It is deserved. I watched you today and you are competent with a bow; certainly competent enough to take on this task.”

Jean preened at this compliment, while John retreated to talk with Numa again.

“Numa, how many girls are learning to read the English language, apart from Raka?”

“All of your wives are interested, but not all are so quick on the uptake as Raka. That girl is clever!”

“Yes, I had noticed. I was thinking that I should go through the books in the library store, and split them into what is for the new reader, and what is for the advanced reader; plus what is not for anyone to read unless I give specific approval. There are one or two books that I believe are not good to read, as they say nasty things about other peoples.”

“I will leave you to decide then, John, my husband. I have no desire to involve myself with reading of books, even when I have learned to read. You can show me which books I might find useful as Chief and as senior wife.”

“A wise choice, Chief Numa. You are showing maturity in your decision-making, as I expected you would. The tribe is in good hands, whether or not I am around.”

“Coming from you, that is wonderful praise, John. I shall try to live up to your expectation.”

John could not resist coming up to her, kissing her soundly, and running his fingers tenderly over her stomach, where her pregnancy was still waiting to produce a bulge.

She smiled contentedly, asked, “A little lower, John.”

He knew what she wanted, quickly slipped his finger into her snatch, and felt her up. She pushed against his finger, then demanded, “I want your cock in there, husband; soon.”

John nodded, “Happy to oblige my baby’s mother. Let’s go to our bed now.”

Numa signalled to Sheila who was nearby, and Sheila signalled back that she would look out for Numa, if anyone came by looking for her.

As they got to their pile of furs, Numa whispered, “Just us, this time, John.”

“Yes, dear,” was all he answered, and they settled in to an evening of lovemaking.

Sheila respected Numa’s desire for an alone time with John, and steered the other wives away for this night, promising them that John would cater to their needs in another day or two. She reminded each enquirer, “Hey, woman, it means me too, you know!”

In the morning, there were many farewells, particularly for Jenka, as there was a realisation that she might not be returning this time. All three were armed; John with his crossbow and knife; Fresno with his spear and knife, and Jenka with her spear.

Fresno asked, “John, will you be teaching the bow to others outside your tribe?”

“I would expect so eventually, Fresno. Do you want to take it up?”

“I do like the idea. It strikes me that a fishing boat could better defend itself if at least some of the crew had bows and knew how to use them.”

“You have visions of other pirates?”

“Not like the ones we dealt with, but more simply, outsider ships wanting to take our catch from us.”